Comfortably numb | Stydia fanfiction

Chapter 6 (Final chapter)

Moisture on her palms . . .

It is the first thing Lydia Martin notices when she wakes up, disoriented and bleary-eyed on the floor of her bedroom. But why is she on the floor? And why is her $200 cashmere sweater ripped to shreds?

Then, it all comes surging back to her . . . her "date" with Jackson . . . the stalker, serial killer way he'd acted, throughout it . . . the way her neck felt when he scratched her . . . the way she felt when she crumbled to the ground, not feeling anything at all. Then, she remembers Stiles, and how safe he made her feel, in spite of everything. She remembers the way he stayed with her throughout the whole horrible ordeal, and how she fell asleep with her hand in his sweaty palm.

His sweaty palm . . . the very same sweaty palm she's running her fingers across right now . . .

"I can move," Lydia says out loud, as she tentatively wiggles her toes, and stretches her arms out in front of her.

A mixture of relief and elation washes over her, as she beams over at the still sleeping Stiles, unable to remember the last time she felt this happy. Mere hours ago she was completely paralyzed, and feared she might stay that way for the rest of her life. And now, she feels perfectly normal, almost as if the whole thing never happened . . .

But it did happen, didn't it?

It had to have happened, because Stiles is here, sleeping next to her on the floor of her bedroom . . . except . . .

Stiles is always next to her, in her dreams.

It's gotten to the point where Lydia can't tell whether she's dreaming or awake anymore. And that is a Very Bad Thing . . .

Back when Lydia and Jackson were still dating, he took her to see that Leonardo DiCaprio movie . . . the one where Leo and the girl from Juno would go into people's heads and manipulate their dreams. In that movie, each of the characters had their own totem, some kind of object that could tell them whether they were dreaming or awake. Leonardo DiCaprio's totem was a spinning top.

But Lydia didn't own a spinning top. So, how the heck was she supposed to know whether she was dreaming or not? Then, it came to her . . .

Stiles' lips.

Every single dream she had lately ended with her kissing Stiles. She would start kissing him, and just before things got hot and heavy between them, everything would turn to black, and Lydia would awaken. It was like she was trapped in some "T for Teen" rated show, whose censors never let her get past second base . . .

So, that is what Lydia has to do, she decides. She has to kiss Stiles, and see where it takes her. She'll kiss him, and then either she'll wake up, or she won't. It is rather scientific, really. And it has absolutely nothing to do with her having feelings for Stiles. (She doesn't!)

Here goes nothing. Lydia thinks to herself, as she leans over, and presses her lips against the still- Sleeping Stiles, prying them open ever so gently with the tip of her tongue. "Lydia," Stiles murmurs, with his eyes still closed, almost as if he might be in the midst of a dream himself.

A dream within a dream. This really is like that Leonardo DiCaprio movie. Lydia thinks to herself.

Then, Lydia does something she's never done before. She stops thinking, and just acts . . . acts on the impulses and desires that have been driving her literally crazy for weeks. Cupping Stiles' face with her hands, Lydia pulls him closer to her, so that she can feel his surprisingly taut stomach press against her own.

Sleeping or not, Stiles is an exceptional kisser. Within seconds, his right hand is massaging her back, while his left is exploring her neck, teasing the sensitive area behind her ears, and running his fingers through her hair. And those lips! Lydia has never experienced lips so soft and pliable. . . lips that seem tailor-made to kiss her own.