Stydia | oneshots

Minutes moving slowly

Stiles looked down at his watch. It seemed that the minutes were literally getting slower the longer that he waited. If Lydia were on time, she would inform him that there is some logical explanation that has to do with cognition in relation to space and time, or something like that. But she was late and, therefore, not there to remind him that she was a genius and the he was just plain old Stiles.

It had taken him exactly three months of anxiety, hand wringing, and backing out at last minute for him to ask her out. Like, you don't just ask out Lydia Martin. You have to wait, feel the physical pain that anxiety gives you to be able to say that you asked out Lydia.

He checked his watch again. Only two minutes had passed. He waved his arms in exasperation, wanting to throw the damn watch on the road and drive over it with his jeep. Maybe that would make it go faster. Instead, he decided to lean against the door of his car.

Stiles didn't really know why he was so nervous. It wasn't like he hadn't been alone with Lydia before. He'd been alone with Lydia loads of times. Sure, it was mostly when someone was in mortal peril and they had to figure out how to save them.

Or that one time when Stiles took Lydia to the Winter Formal because Allison had set them up. He felt a smile creep in from the sides of his mouth. It seemed so far away, that night. Temporally thinking, it wasn't. It had been two years. They were in their sophomore year, and now they were seniors.

A sudden pang of guilt hit Stiles in the chest. Thoughts of Allison always made guilt seep into his heart at the worst of times and he knew that he deserved them, but they were unwelcome nonetheless. They brought back the feeling that he didn't deserve anyone. They brought back the familiar gut feeling that the best thing for him to do would be to run away and leave everyone behind.

It would be a lie to deny that he hadn't tried to run away. He did. But he failed, his plans foiled by Scott and Lydia. One of the voices told her to come to his house, so she did. Much to her surprise, he had been packing for a mysterious, indefinite trip that only he knew about. He remembered her arched eyebrow as he tried to come up with a believable (and plausible) excuse to leave Beacon Hills. After hearing him jabber on about a "mission or something", she simply walked over to his bag and dumped it out the window.

"Okay." She had said, shrugging her shoulders. "Leave." Her foot was tapping up and down in disapproval on his floor. "But don't expect me to forgive you. If you leave, I will hate you with every ounce of hate that I am capable of feeling, Stiles Stilinski." He stared down at her and swallowed uncomfortably. With a simple "Hmph!" she walked away. The next day, he went to English class and saw her. She looked only a bit smug.

He looked at his watch again. It was 7:15. She was officially fifteen minutes late and he was fighting the urge to go knock on the door again to see if she had been kidnapped by some crazy person. Which, unfortunately, was a possibility.

The door opened. Stiles immediately straightened up, almost hitting his hand on his side mirror. She looked absolutely radiant, as if there was light being exuded from every cell in her body. Lydia smiled at him as she walked down her porch steps towards him.

"So..." She said, letting her voice drift off. "Are we going?"

It took a moment for him to form the words to respond. She was wearing a short green dress made of some shiny material that made her gleam like an emerald. The dress had a red stripe around the waist that matched her red heels. Her hair was loosely curled and hung loose around her face. "Wow." He managed to breathe out.

Lydia pursed her lips as a blush started heating her cheeks. "You don't look too bad yourself." She told him truthfully. "Maybe we should go?"

Stiles blinked and snapped his mind out of its Lydia-centric daze. "Yes! We should." He stepped back and opened the passenger door for her. "After you."

"Thank you." She said as she stepped into the jeep. He shut the door once she was in and walked to the driver side and got in.

"Oh!" He exclaimed and reached to the back seat, retrieving a box. "I almost forgot." He handed her the small package.

"You didn't have to get me anythi--"

"Yes, I did." He interrupted. "Open it."

She slid her fingers under the tape keeping the box closed and opened it. A smile crept up onto her face. In the box sat a simple red rose corsage. "How did you know?"

"I had a feeling." He shrugged. "I figured it would match your hair and probably your lipstick since you love red--" She put her hand on his neck and pulled him into her, lips crashing together. Stiles relaxed at her touch and his lips moved against hers, breathing in the air that she breathed. His hand reached into her hair and pulled her closer, her body arching to be nearer to his.

With a deep breath, she pulled away, eyes still shut. "Just drive, Stilinski."

Stiles opened his brown eyes to meet her green ones and nodded. He started the car and rested his hand on the gear shift. Lydia put her hand on top of his gently. "To prom."