𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒

Stuck

au their car breaks down in the middle of nowhere

warning: 7000 words

________

"Could you please hurry up? We're already late as it is."

Lydia impatiently tapped her foot against the dark wooded floor, the soft noise of her heel barely echoing through the walls of the Stilinski house hold. Her bare legs were sheeted with sheer tights that were under a maroon skirt. She wore a short, simple tan sweater to match the outfit, not really caring about the temperatures of the winter air. Despite living in Cali, some nights got really cold. Tonight was one of those.

They were supposed to leave ten minutes ago. They were supposed to be on the road and already cruising down streets that would lead them to this fancy banquet they would have to attend. It was for a stupid SNHS meeting, which stood for Science National Honors Society. Stiles and Lydia were big members of it, and had to attend the banquet that the whole club was supposed to go to. The school provided a bus, but Stiles and Lydia ended up missing it because Stiles had to change his outfit. They had to drive.

She was waiting for him to hurry up, since if they didn't leave in the next thirty seconds then they would be late, and it wasn't the kind of late that was fashionable. It was degrading. Lydia Martin was never that kind of late.

The phone in her hand buzzed, and she ignored it, knowing it was the club group chat they designed in order to keep up with each other. It was mostly complains since the two most important seniors weren't there, and that it was going to pour later on. That was one of the main reasons Lydia wanted to get going; she wanted to avoid the rain.

"Will you chill out, woman? I'm putting shoes on," called Stiles, his voice muffled from the distance between them. She could practically hear the humor in his voice and she wanted to slap the smirk that was there right off. She rolled her eyes.

"We don't have all day, Princess," sassed Lydia. "You promised you'd be ready ten minutes ago."

She opened her mouth to say more, but stopped when she saw the familiar brunette standing at the top of the stair case, looking sharp in a white collar shirt that was rolled up to the elbows, a jacket in hand. He wore his khakis and black sneakers that he was wearing to school, and it pained Lydia to know that he took forever to put on the simplest things.

Lydia didn't know how to describe their relationship. Maybe whimsical. Toil. Complex. They were for certain best friends, but Lydia wasn't stupid enough to not know that he liked her. It was painfully obvious in all places, and he knew that she knew. They both knew it, and did talk it out once. But, reiteratively, told her dogged reminders that she did not have to like him back. The most that he wanted was to remain the way they were, and, honestly, Lydia didn't have a problem with either a. dating him, or b. doing whatever he wanted. Sure, they were best friends, but if he asked her to kiss her right here, she would.

"You kill me," she admitted with a hand on the hip. "You take forever and you're wearing that?" Lydia grabbed her pursed from the tiny bench that was near the door and he laughed.

He put his coat on the rack and sauntered into the kitchen. "At least my hair looks impeccable."

Lydia leaned against the door frame of the kitchen and sighed jokingly. "I don't know, Stilinski. You could touch up the sides a little bit more. Just make sure you don't suffocate in the amount of gel you use," said Lydia.

Stiles scoffed playfully, grabbing a box of granola bars and two waters from the fridge. He winced against the cold, but pinched the bottles between his bicep and rib. Lydia tried not to swoon at his muscle flex action, and held a straight face instead- the one he always saw but never dug deep enough to know what it meant. She was relieved.