I'm constantly on the cusp of trying to kiss you, and I don't know if you feel the same as I do.
- Do I Wanna Know, Arctic Monkeys.
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Lydia had been staring at the remains of the fire for half an hour solid. There was, of course, no essay to write for Slughorn, and as the best student in the class, Lydia wouldn't have needed extra credit even if the option was there.
Stilinski had put his mufflatio charm on the door of her dormitory, making it impossible to tell what was going on in there. Her quill, inkpot and an old half-completed draft essay on the use of beetle eyes in sleeping potions sat neatly on the desk in front of her, in case anyone came to check on her.
She was almost asleep when the soft sound of bare feet brushing against one of the rugs alerted her, and she turned to find Stiles Stilinski looking at her with a puzzled expression.
Lydia waited for him to say something, but he never did. Instead, he flopped onto the squashy couch next to her with a dramatic sigh. Lydia rolled her eyes at the attention seeking display, smothering a smile as she did.
"What do you want, Stilinski?" she asked, refusing to let herself stare at the strip of skin on his stomach that had been revealed when he had thrown his arms over his head, stretching to as close to his full height as he could get on the cramped loveseat.
"I wanted to see you," Stiles replied immediately. He frowned as if that was something he hadn't meant to tell her.
Lydia felt the color rising to her cheeks.
"Oh." She shifted awkwardly in her seat, looking to the doorway that lead to the dormitories. "What did you tell the others?"
"That I was coming to try to convince you to rejoin the game."
"And are you?" Lydia freed herself from the uncomfortable wooden chair in favor of lying on the floor beside his couch.
"Nope." Stiles replied simply.
"Oh."
"Your friend is a terrible kisser, you know," he informed her matter-of-factly.
Lydia started drawing the letter S in the air with her big toe contemplatively, before she realized what she was doing and stopped immediately.
"I'm, uh... sorry about that," Lydia said. "I know you didn't really have much of a choice. It would have hurt her feelings if you'd taken the shot like I did."
"Yeah," Stiles said softly.
Lydia was quiet for a while before she spoke again.
"I'm sorry about that, too. I know I probably embarrassed you."
Stiles chuckled quietly.
"Don't worry, Martin. I'm a big boy. I can deal with a little rejection. And it's not the first time you've turned me down. Or the second, or third, or fiftieth..."
"Okay!" Lydia cut him off, smiling stupidly. "I get it."
Stiles fell into a thoughtful silence.
"Hey, Martin?"
"Mmm?"
"How long does Veritaserum take... to wear off?"
Lydia's veins lit up as though she had been electrocuted, and a tug in her chest forced her to answer.
"Eight hours. For the amount we took, at least."
Her blood fizzed and her stomach flipped at the prospect of being a part of a conversation with Stiles Stilinski in which she physically couldn't lie. Even worse, a conversation where he knew that she couldn't lie.
"So... we still have to tell the truth?" he asked quietly, the tension in his voice sending shivers down her spine.
"Yep."
"So I can ask you anything right now... and you have to answer honestly?"
"That is the general idea of a truth potion, Stiles."
He fell quiet again for a minute, an amused chuckle finally breaking the silence.
"Stiles," he said in wonder. Lydia winced at the realization that she had called him by his first name. "You haven't called me that since... when was the last time you called me Stiles?"
"Third year," Lydia whispered, horrified at her slip-up.
"Third year," he repeated disbelievingly. "Okay... Lydia." Her name sounded foreign, awkward...oddly sexy when he said it. He struggled around the word like he had just discovered it, the I in her name somehow sounding entirely new, like it had been hiding for years, and he had found it.
"If we really can't lie... then tell me why you refused to kiss me when Scott dared you to."
That same tug in her chest built in pressure, until she was forced to release the words.
"Because of Malia," Lydia said.
Stiles' eyebrows knit together, and Lydia had to stop herself from grabbing her wand and attempting to modify his memory.
"What? Malia wasn't... what does she have to do with anything?" Genuine, annoyed confusion laced his voice, and Lydia found the words tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them.
"She likes you."
Stiles' eyes widened for a second, before the fact of it seemed to sink in, and he shrugged carelessly.
"Mmm. That actually does explain a bit. So she's the reason you refuse to admit your desperate, longing lust for me."
"Sure, Stilinski. Whatever you say." Lydia grinned.
Stiles was still again, the room so quiet, Lydia could practically hear his thoughts clicking together in his brain.
"Would..." Stiles began, picking his words with careful precision. "Would you have... y'know, wanted to... kiss me? If she wasn't in the picture?"
The tug in Lydia's chest started up again, numbed by the fact that she felt like she had been struck by lightning. This stuttering, shy, nervous Stiles... she had never encountered him before. A half-second glance confirmed that a blush that had formed on his high cheekbones.
She couldn't answer... she had already told him too much, and she had barely admitted to herself that part of her - a teeny, tiny, minuscule part of her - wished that she wasn't friends with Malia.
"Um." Lydia fought the pull in her chest for another second before giving in. "Yes. I think I would have."
She caught the fleeting grin that took over his entire face as she looked up at him for a second.
"Okay," Stiles breathed shakily, trying and failing to disguise his nervousness. He cleared his throat, sounding a bit bolder when he was able to collect himself. "So what's stopping you right now? There's no one around, after all."
"Because," said Lydia diplomatically. "She's still my friend. And it doesn't matter if there's anyone here. It'd be a terrible thing for me to do, whether she knew about it or not."
Stiles huffed in annoyance.
"Do you want to snog me right now?"
Lydia almost laughed, rolling her eyes at the stupid question.
"Obviously."
Stiles moved in half a second, and suddenly he was hovering over her, a look in his eyes that was uncertain and confident at the same time. His glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose awkwardly, but he somehow made it look... hot. His smirk made it seem as if he had planned it.
"Um..." She tried to form words, but nothing came out except a breathy almost-giggle. Stiles grinned, lowering himself the tiniest bit closer to her. She fidgeted a little, but made no move to stop him.
"Lydia," he whispered, as though he needed to make sure it was real. Make sure she was real.
There was the sound of the dormitory door opening, and it may as well have been a gunshot, the way it startled them.
Stiles shot back onto the couch, hissing a stream of profanities that only continued after he was settled into his original spot. Lydia was a breathless puddle on the floor, her nerves jolting and her skin on fire.
You didn't do anything wrong, she reminded herself, sitting up as Kira came into the common room.
"Fuck, shit, damn, bullocks, fuck fuck fuck!" Stiles yelled into a cushion.
Kira's eyes widened and she giggled, turning expectantly to Lydia.
"Uh, did you break him?" she laughed as Stiles groaned in annoyance.
"Think so," said Lydia, watching the muscles in Stiles' back move under his unreasonably tight shirt. Kira was looking at her with a knowing smile when she finally tore her eyes away.
"Um, what did I miss?" asked Lydia.
Kira sat down on the floor next to her, watching Stiles punch the couch with vague amusement. "Not much. Ally and Isaac are being particularly couple-y, and I snogged Scott... several times." Kira smiled shyly. "Oh, and Lia snogged Danny."
"What?!" Stiles sat up, all thoughts of his tantrum gone.
"Yeah..." Kira looked at him in confusion. "Just after you left."
Stiles' mouth fell into an annoyed grimace, and he glared at the red tassel on the cushion he was holding.
"Why do you care?" she asked curiously.
"Because he likes her. And it would have actually meant something to him." Stiles replied immediately, slapping a hand over his mouth in shock when he realized what he had done.
Kira opened her mouth to reply, but no sound came out for a full thirty seconds. Stiles stared at her, horrified at what he had told her. Lydia was sure that even Scott didn't know about Danny's crush on Malia. If he did, she would have found out about it a lot sooner.
"I... um. Oh, shit." Kira giggled delightedly. "That's... wow."
"You can't tell anyone," Lydia reminded her seriously. Kira looked at her, puzzled.
"Of course I won't tell anyone," she chirped, shrugging. "It's not my secret to tell. Anyway, Lyds, you of all people know how good I am at not mentioning... stuff like that."
Kira pursed her lips as if to keep herself from smiling at Stiles' befuddled expression. Lydia flamed red, muttering under her breath and avoiding his eyes. Stiles watched her in confusion.
"What are you guys t-"
"Anyway," Kira quickly interrupted him. "The game is wrapping up, because everyone's tired, and it's been a big day."
Lydia braved a glance at Stiles. He had an irritated, dissatisfied look on his face, like the last thing that he wanted was to end the night where it was. Lydia couldn't help but feel the same.
"Okay. I'll be up in a minute, I just need to pack up my stuff." Lydia nodded towards the desk that was still cluttered with her things. Kira said nothing in reply, simply raising an eyebrow with the beginnings of a smirk showing on the corners of her mouth. She left the common room, making exaggerated kissy faces at Lydia as she went.
Lydia flipped her off, scowling at the back of her friend as she climbed up the stairs.
"Erm... Martin?" Stiles said tentatively. "I-"
"Don't." Lydia got to her feet, refusing to look him in the eye as she started to pack up her things. She tried to ignore the feeling of disappointment as she realized that he hadn't called her 'Lydia'.
"Why n-"
"Just don't."
"But-"
"I said don't!" Lydia whirled around to look at him angrily.
Stiles stared at her in shock. Lydia could just barely see herself reflected in his glasses; her eyes burning dangerously and her posture the definition of defensive.
Every bit of tension fell out of her at the sight, and she watched, helpless, as Stiles' eyes dropped apologetically.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. He glanced up at her again, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy. Lydia sighed, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "I just... I can't. I can't do that to her. She's my friend."
Stiles nodded somberly, looking uncharacteristically timid as he unfolded his gangly body from the couch.
"Alright, Martin," he said softly. "If that's what you want."
Lydia swallowed hard, forcing herself to not reply. She simply nodded determinedly, bitterness slipping through her veins like venom.
Stiles looked at her sadly once more before turning to go to his dormitory, knowing that his friends wouldn't be far behind. Lydia pursed her lips, crushing them together with enough force that they turned purple. She watched Stiles slink out of the common room, forbidding herself from calling him back.
She didn't sleep that night.
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1. ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED??? Fricking Kira though. Goddamn it. Hehe.
2. I had to edit the bajeezus out of this chapter BC the conversational bits were SO. AWKWARD. But I made it okay so yay me. <3
3. I think I've been spelling dialogue wrong this whole time? Help? Don't think it has the ue on the end but it looks weird without it!!!
Think that's it? Yeah. That's it. Byeeee.
-Z. <3