Strictly Platonic Murder Angst (Stydia)

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Stiles presses his knee sharply into the older looking man's chest, cutting off his air supply within a matter of seconds, and he squeezes his throat between his hands. "What did this guy do?" Stiles gruffs, as the man stops moving. "I told you I would take care of it! And it was my turn!" Stiles shouts, watching as Lydia taps her fingers against her arm as she watched.

Stiles knows better than letting her out of his sight, she always does this, and he sees blood all over the floor of the warehouse. It was just supposed to be one person, but no. Lydia had to get excited and ruin it for them. Now, Stiles can't enjoy his turn and he has to rush. He hates having to rush. He never makes Lydia rush when it's her turn.

"He saw me scream. He heard it, and saw the guy's head explore!" Lydia defends, and Stiles rolls his eyes as he steps over the lifeless corpse. Lydia watches his blue face slowly start turning white, and she grins warmly when Stiles hooked his hands under the guy's armpits to drag him away. "I'll get his legs." She says, skipping forward to help. It always cheers up Stiles when she helps him clean up since she rarely does it.

Stiles doesn't speak to her for a few minutes, even after they start walking in the woods toward where Stiles has taken to displaying their victims, and Lydia starts to pout. She hates when he's mad at her. "It was your turn." Lydia admits, somewhat reluctantly. Stiles grunts as he steps over a tree root, and Lydia pants with effort as she looks around. She has a strange feeling about this place, but Stiles loves it. It's right next to a municipality which means the city cops and sheriff's department fight over the possession of the bodies.

"How hard did his head explode?" Stiles finally asks, and Lydia grins as she looks up.

"Easily three feet on each side. Not my best but I could do better." Lydia says. "When it's my turn again." Lydia adds, after a moment so Stiles knows he can have her turn this time. "Sorry I took your turn."  Lydia adds, with a bit more sincerity as Stiles digs the hole. "You're burying this one?" Lydia asks, putting on her gloves.

Stiles nods as he wipes his head, leaving a thin trial of blood on his forehead. It's cute, Lydia thinks. "Wolves ate the last body. I don't want to deal with that before someone sees it. That's the best part." Stiles says, grunting as the shovel hits a rock. Lydia gets on her knees, digging the earth out around it, and she looks up when she senses something. Stiles watches her, and she puts her finger to her lip to silence him. She hopes it's a hiker or a biker.

Twigs crack with weight burdening them, and Stiles grabs a knife from his holster on his ankle. Lydia holds her breath, sweating with anticipation, and they collectively sigh in disappointment when a deer walks out before freezing when it sees them.

Oh, well Lydia thinks as she gos back to digging the grave. There's always next time.

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