Stydia Oneshots - Teen Wolf.

Like Crazy.

For @alye_18.

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Summary: Between 3b and 4, Stiles and Lydia become closer. Needless to say, Lydia is not a fan of the were-coyote new girl.

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The rain fell in torrential, navy-blue sheets, the dull roar providing lulling white noise that made Lydia's eyelids droop tiredly. She was curled up next to Stiles on his little bed - it was little, a double where hers was a king - He was tapping away at his phone, twitching occasionally, the hand that was resting on her hip fluttering nervously.

Lydia smiled softly at the memory of the first time this had happened. It was the night after they had gotten rid of the Nogistune, and Stiles had shyly asked her to stay and keep him company for a while once she had dropped him home. He never said it, but she knew that he was terrified of what the darkness would bring. So she had smiled and said yes, because she knew exactly how he felt. She had experience on the matter.

They had watched a movie, something lighthearted and comedic, though neither paid much attention to the screen. Lydia had chosen the seat next to him on the sofa, settling down gingerly, fully aware of Stiles' hyper-sensitive reactions to the most innocent of touches. He had been through a lot. And Lydia knew that he just needed someone to feel safe with.

She had leaned her body into his, and he had gone very still, unsure of what to do. Her hand found his and she felt his heart race as she curled into him, resting her head on his shoulder, rubbing soft circles onto the back of his hand with her thumb.

Lydia came over most nights, and the nights she didn't, they would be on the phone for hours, talking about everything and anything. She always had an elated rush of pride whenever she could get him to laugh. They never talked about it, never asked the fatal question: 'So, what are we?'

The jarring ding of Stiles' phone snapped her out of the memory and woke her up a little.

"It's two in the morning, who the hell is texting you?" she asked in an annoyed, sleep-filled voice.

"Um.... Malia, actually," he replied sheepishly. His hand still traced lazy patterns onto her hip, and Lydia frowned.

"Ugh." She sat up, making a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. "What does she want?"

Stiles looked at her, as if surprised by her hostility.

"She wants me to come over to her place," he mumbled. Lydia's suddenly murderous expression must have spooked him, because he hurriedly said, "I mean, Lyds, I'm not going, of course not. She's just lonely."

"Yeah? Tell her to be lonely with someone else." Lydia flicked her hair over her shoulder haughtily.

"Lyds..." Stiles looked at her strangely. "What's your deal with Malia?"

Lydia raised an eyebrow at him, but Stiles didn't take back the question. Instead he waited expectantly for an answer. Lydia huffed in annoyance and said, "Look, I just- I just think she's overselling this whole thing. Like, she's using the coyote thing to play her woe-is-me card. She's not alone, you know. She has her dad. She's just saying it to play to your empathetic side."

"Lyds, she's not playing anything. Why are you assuming the worst?"

"I'm not assuming anything," said Lydia, mimicking his tone. "It's just...she's made sure that everyone knows about what happened with you two at Eichen House - she reminds me on a daily basis - and she's manipulative, Stiles. She knows exactly what to do to get you to feel bad for her."