Stydia Oneshots - Teen Wolf.

Addicted.

Summary: She breaks hearts like it's fun. He's never been in love. Sometimes 'best friends' isn't enough.

.................................................

Lydia's house was cold and full of echoes. His sneakers squeaked on the expensive hardwood floors, and his keys clinked loudly in the otherwise silent hallway. Lydia's bedroom was a welcome burst of warmth and color, though there was no sense of liveliness there. It was a dark afternoon, the kind that matched the thick gray clouds outside.

"Hey, Nim," she greeted him quietly, using his ancient nickname - the one she had made up accidentally, years ago. It was a result of her demanding that he tell her what his real name was, and - after he wrote it down for her - only being able to pronounce the last part. The 'Nim'. He loved it, loved that it was hers. Only hers.

"Hey, Lyds," he murmured gently, kicking off his sneakers and dumping his bag by her door. He joined her in the bed, allowing her to curl into his chest and wrap her leg around his hip immediately, not thinking twice on how strangely physical their relationship was. The constant touching was just part of their dynamic. Normal.

"I look gross," she said, her voice muffled by his shirt. "I'm sorry."

"Hey." Stiles grabbed her hand, bouncing it on her knee playfully. "You look adorable."

Lydia glanced at him for a second, and something flickered in her eyes before she looked away again. Stiles stared at her rapidly coloring cheeks in amazement. Was Lydia blushing?

Her eyelashes brushed her cheeks as she looked down at her hands.

"Thanks, Nim."

"Any time," he said, still thrown by her pink cheeks.

She was silent for so long, Stiles was certain she had fallen asleep. It was familiar - being so close to her, feeling each and every curve pressed against him, drowning in her scent. But it still did funny things to his stomach when she moved a certain way. Like when she shifted slightly, her hips grinding against his the tiniest bit as she adjusted her head on the pillow. He had to stop himself from groaning out loud.

And it wasn't like he wanted Lydia. It wasn't like sometimes in class he caught himself thinking about her long legs, or that he occasionally woke up in a cold sweat after dreaming of her in ways that a guy shouldn't be dreaming about his best friend. The kind of dream that made sure he couldn't look her in the eye for days afterwards. No. Not at all.

She moved a little, looking up at him with soft, emerald eyes. She smiled gently and his heart shattered.

"Why are you so nice to me?" she asked quietly.

"I love you," he said simply. In their friendship, 'I love you' was thrown around like handfuls of confetti. But his stomach still flipped when he said it.

She smiled fondly at him, and Stiles found himself holding her the tiniest bit tighter.

"I love you too, Stiles."

He swallowed hard and forced a casual smile onto his face, wondering why the hell he was having these reactions to Lydia. Painfully nerdy, random-fact-blurting, Greek goddess Lydia.

"Uh... I brought you ice cream?" he offered, distracting them both. "And the F.R.I.E.N.D.S box set."

"You did not." Lydia's face lit up, and she wriggled off him, running to the other side of the room to peek inside his backpack. Before he knew it, she was flying across the room, and she had herself wrapped around him in a fierce hug. "Stiles Stilinski, you are the best friend ever!" Lydia announced, running back to grab the DVDs out of his bag.