Comfortably numb | Stydia fanfiction

Chapter 5

"For the third time, she's not immune to the venom, Scott."

Having known Scott McCall since the two were in diapers, Stiles had long ago gotten used to the fact that you usually have to tell him something three times, before it finally starts to sink in . . .

"But how can you be sure?" Scott asks on the other end of the line, obviously still confused.

"Well, let's see . . . she was with Jackson, he scratched her, and now she's not moving . . . I think it's safe to say she wasn't paralyzed by his charm," Stiles quips.

Lydia watches as Stiles paces back and forth near her bed, while clutching his cell phone to his ear. She can tell by his clipped speech, and the apologetic glances he keeps casting her way, that he's extremely eager to get off the phone with Scott . . . eager to be with her. It's actually kind of sweet, she thinks. But she does not have feelings for Stiles. Does she?

"Well, how long ago did he leave? How far do you think he could have gotten?" Scott inquires, as he rushes toward Allison's car, which she parked two blocks down the street from his house, in order to avoid suspicion.

"Once again, I don't know! Clearly, I skipped the chapter on rich teenage asshats turned supernatural psycho killer lizards in the latest issue of National Geographic," Stiles replies through gritted teeth.

"Well, wait outside of Lydia's, and we'll come get you," replies Scott, as he slips into Allison's car, mouthing the word "Stiles" to her, as he points to his cell phone.

"Um . . . I'm sorry . . . I can't," Stiles answers.

He locks eyes with Lydia for an extended moment, and then, bashfully looks away.

"Stiles, come on! I know you care about Lydia. But you said, yourself, she'll be fine in a few hours. And this is our chance to track Jackson. He might even lead us to his Master," Scott pleads.

Stiles sighs, and runs his hand through his hair nervously. "I'm sorry, Scott. I just can't leave her like this . . . not again . . . not this time. I gotta go."

Stiles walks back toward Lydia. The two then share a few awkward moments in silence, while both try to pretend that Stiles didn't just choose her over his best friend . . . over quite possibly saving the world from a "supernatural psycho killer lizard." Acknowledging this fact would put a lot of unnecessary pressure on both of them.

"So . . .um . . . how are things?" Stiles asks lamely.

His palms are already beginning to sweat. And he's hoping that Lydia doesn't somehow notice.

"Just peachy," replies Lydia, as she exhales deeply.

Stiles tentatively kneels down next to her.

"Listen . . . um . . . would you mind not hovering over me like your some crazy cult leader, and I'm your virgin sacrifice?" Lydia inquires, biting her lower lip.

"My virgin sacrifice?" Stiles inquires, with a goofy grin.

"Shut up," replies Lydia, rolling her eyes.

But she's smiling. He made her smile.

"I . . . uh . . . what do you want me to do?"

"I don't know," Lydia responds. "Lay down, maybe?"

Stiles blinks, as he compulsively scratches an imaginary itch on the back of his neck. "You want me to lie down . . . next to you?"

Lydia blushes slightly. "Uhhh . . . yeah, I just . . . I think it will make me feel less . . ."

"Paralyzed?"

"I was going to say 'helpless,' but yes," she admits.

Lydia watches out of the corner of her eye, as Stiles gingerly lies down next to her, their heads, and limbs now inches apart from one another. "Stiles?" She asks.