headlong 71/?
Jan. 3rd, 2012 09:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
januarylightStiles has been eating lunch with Jackson a lot lately, so it isn’t a surprise when Jackson texts him and arranges to meet up during their break. It also isn’t exactly a surprise that Jackson neglects to tell him Lydia’s going to be there; Stiles knows Jackson is weak to her.
“Hey,” he says, deciding there’s no point trying to avoid this. Lydia will say what she wants to say, and putting it off would likely only prolong the agony because she’s evil like that. He’s always liked that about her.
Lydia barely glances at him, far more interested in her nails. Jackson takes pains to make up for her neglect. He’s uncomfortable, and he’s never been able to hide his emotions.
Lydia ignores them both until it looks like Stiles is about to take an interest in the conversation, and then she jumps all over that. “I hate you,” she says, looking like she means it.
“Best you can come up with? Really? You were wishing me luck earlier.”
“You’re going to need it!” That’s probably true, so Stiles just nods, which leaves Lydia staring at him, flummoxed. “You don’t really think you can do this, do you?”
Stiles is so sick of being told what he can’t do, even if it is mostly Derek doing the telling. “I’m going to try.”
“You’re going to fail.”
“Why do you care?”
“I have a personal interest,” Lydia says loftily, folding her arms over her chest.
“What, you think Derek’s going to turn around and decide he wants you instead of me? Derek doesn’t want you at all and if you think that would change if I was out of the picture you’re—“
Lydia’s shaking her head. “I thought he needed me!” she interrupts. “I thought he knew that.” She looks hurt, which is ridiculous, because she doesn’t even like Derek, Stiles knows she doesn’t.
“Needed you for what?”
“I’m the only one suitable. You certainly aren’t. I don’t know what he thinks he’s going to be able to do with you.”
“Uh—“ Derek’s made it clear that he agrees with Lydia, but Stiles isn’t going to give her the satisfaction. “Suitable for what?”
Lydia bares her teeth at him. “Derek’s looking for a mate, Stillinski. It should have been me.” Jackson looks like he’s about to dive under the table to extricate himself from this scene, and it’s that reaction, that instinct that makes Stiles’ stomach sink. “I could have done it. I wanted it, and I would have been so good at it. It was supposed to be my position.”
“He isn’t,” Stiles says, miserable, “—looking. Derek isn’t looking for a mate.” He wants one, though. He told Stiles he wants one.
“Oh, you’re right!” Lydia says. “You must be right, because he’s settled on you, and he has to know that even if you were a werewolf you’d be the worst mate in the universe. There’s no way he’d pick you. There’s no way he’d want that from you.”
Lydia doesn’t seem to know whether she believes her words, but Stiles knows they’re true. Derek has told him as much.
“He doesn’t want it at all,” Stiles says.
Lydia laughs in his face. “If you really believe that then maybe this relationship will be over even sooner than I thought—“
“If you really think that then why are you even bothering?” Stiles asks, because he shouldn’t be the only one feeling like this. “I thought you’d be better at sour grapes by now given how much practice you’ve had at it.”
Jackson falls off the end of the bench. He stays down.
Stiles doesn’t even care that he made Lydia’s face look like that. He doesn’t.
“Wait,” he says. “Wait. You’re upset. You’re upset because you can’t fuck your alpha like that will make you powerful somehow, and Jackson doesn’t even want to, anymore. But Allison is about to break up with Scott again, Lydia. You can just try getting him to fuck you instead. He’s an upgrade from Jackson, right? I realise you tried this before and he wasn’t into you either, but—“
“He was into me,” Lydia says. She looks like she’s about to stroke out right there, but she recovers, as she always does. “You’re just bitter because Derek’s the first person who’s ever wanted you and it doesn’t even matter because you aren’t going to be able to keep him.”
“At least I’m not fucking him like it’s the only way I’m ever going to get a promotion.”
Lydia goes to slap him, swings her arm through the air, stops with her claws brushing his cheek, a fraction’s pressure away from breaking the skin.
“Shit,” Jackson says, fingers white around Lydia’s wrist. He’s fast. Stiles hadn’t realised he was that fast. Jackson flings Lydia’s hand away. Lydia is stronger than Jackson and they both know it, but Stiles has never seen him be rough with her.
“It’s okay,” Stiles says, even though Lydia hasn’t asked for forgiveness, hasn’t said a word, and it isn’t okay, not at all. “It’s—“
“Whatever,” Lydia snarls. She looks spooked, but she’s still angry, too angry at Stiles to care about him right now. “Everybody’s going to feel the same, this isn’t just me.”
“No harm, no foul, right?” Jackson asks, voice shaking. “Derek doesn’t need to know about this.”
Lydia glares at him. Jackson is the only person who doesn’t know he’s going to be the one telling Derek about Lydia’s little incident. He’s rubbing the back of his neck absently, staring at Stiles with blank horror.
“We’re leaving,” Lydia decides, drags Jackson away, their lunches sitting on the table completely untouched.
“At least everybody knows,” Stiles mutters. “Can’t get worse than this.” There’s always a bright side. He didn’t even get turned into some weird, walking zombie-wolf thing like Jackson had that one time. And that had been close. He should be feeling pretty lucky.
“Scott doesn’t know,” Lydia yells back vindictively, twenty feet away. “And we’re not telling him!” Stiles should be glad that he isn’t feeling much of anything at all.
“Hey,” he says, deciding there’s no point trying to avoid this. Lydia will say what she wants to say, and putting it off would likely only prolong the agony because she’s evil like that. He’s always liked that about her.
Lydia barely glances at him, far more interested in her nails. Jackson takes pains to make up for her neglect. He’s uncomfortable, and he’s never been able to hide his emotions.
Lydia ignores them both until it looks like Stiles is about to take an interest in the conversation, and then she jumps all over that. “I hate you,” she says, looking like she means it.
“Best you can come up with? Really? You were wishing me luck earlier.”
“You’re going to need it!” That’s probably true, so Stiles just nods, which leaves Lydia staring at him, flummoxed. “You don’t really think you can do this, do you?”
Stiles is so sick of being told what he can’t do, even if it is mostly Derek doing the telling. “I’m going to try.”
“You’re going to fail.”
“Why do you care?”
“I have a personal interest,” Lydia says loftily, folding her arms over her chest.
“What, you think Derek’s going to turn around and decide he wants you instead of me? Derek doesn’t want you at all and if you think that would change if I was out of the picture you’re—“
Lydia’s shaking her head. “I thought he needed me!” she interrupts. “I thought he knew that.” She looks hurt, which is ridiculous, because she doesn’t even like Derek, Stiles knows she doesn’t.
“Needed you for what?”
“I’m the only one suitable. You certainly aren’t. I don’t know what he thinks he’s going to be able to do with you.”
“Uh—“ Derek’s made it clear that he agrees with Lydia, but Stiles isn’t going to give her the satisfaction. “Suitable for what?”
Lydia bares her teeth at him. “Derek’s looking for a mate, Stillinski. It should have been me.” Jackson looks like he’s about to dive under the table to extricate himself from this scene, and it’s that reaction, that instinct that makes Stiles’ stomach sink. “I could have done it. I wanted it, and I would have been so good at it. It was supposed to be my position.”
“He isn’t,” Stiles says, miserable, “—looking. Derek isn’t looking for a mate.” He wants one, though. He told Stiles he wants one.
“Oh, you’re right!” Lydia says. “You must be right, because he’s settled on you, and he has to know that even if you were a werewolf you’d be the worst mate in the universe. There’s no way he’d pick you. There’s no way he’d want that from you.”
Lydia doesn’t seem to know whether she believes her words, but Stiles knows they’re true. Derek has told him as much.
“He doesn’t want it at all,” Stiles says.
Lydia laughs in his face. “If you really believe that then maybe this relationship will be over even sooner than I thought—“
“If you really think that then why are you even bothering?” Stiles asks, because he shouldn’t be the only one feeling like this. “I thought you’d be better at sour grapes by now given how much practice you’ve had at it.”
Jackson falls off the end of the bench. He stays down.
Stiles doesn’t even care that he made Lydia’s face look like that. He doesn’t.
“Wait,” he says. “Wait. You’re upset. You’re upset because you can’t fuck your alpha like that will make you powerful somehow, and Jackson doesn’t even want to, anymore. But Allison is about to break up with Scott again, Lydia. You can just try getting him to fuck you instead. He’s an upgrade from Jackson, right? I realise you tried this before and he wasn’t into you either, but—“
“He was into me,” Lydia says. She looks like she’s about to stroke out right there, but she recovers, as she always does. “You’re just bitter because Derek’s the first person who’s ever wanted you and it doesn’t even matter because you aren’t going to be able to keep him.”
“At least I’m not fucking him like it’s the only way I’m ever going to get a promotion.”
Lydia goes to slap him, swings her arm through the air, stops with her claws brushing his cheek, a fraction’s pressure away from breaking the skin.
“Shit,” Jackson says, fingers white around Lydia’s wrist. He’s fast. Stiles hadn’t realised he was that fast. Jackson flings Lydia’s hand away. Lydia is stronger than Jackson and they both know it, but Stiles has never seen him be rough with her.
“It’s okay,” Stiles says, even though Lydia hasn’t asked for forgiveness, hasn’t said a word, and it isn’t okay, not at all. “It’s—“
“Whatever,” Lydia snarls. She looks spooked, but she’s still angry, too angry at Stiles to care about him right now. “Everybody’s going to feel the same, this isn’t just me.”
“No harm, no foul, right?” Jackson asks, voice shaking. “Derek doesn’t need to know about this.”
Lydia glares at him. Jackson is the only person who doesn’t know he’s going to be the one telling Derek about Lydia’s little incident. He’s rubbing the back of his neck absently, staring at Stiles with blank horror.
“We’re leaving,” Lydia decides, drags Jackson away, their lunches sitting on the table completely untouched.
“At least everybody knows,” Stiles mutters. “Can’t get worse than this.” There’s always a bright side. He didn’t even get turned into some weird, walking zombie-wolf thing like Jackson had that one time. And that had been close. He should be feeling pretty lucky.
“Scott doesn’t know,” Lydia yells back vindictively, twenty feet away. “And we’re not telling him!” Stiles should be glad that he isn’t feeling much of anything at all.
no subject
Date: 2012-01-03 09:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-05 01:37 am (UTC)It *was* bound to happen. Lydia knows Derek isn't into her, but she thinks he needs a female werewolf as a mate, she's the only option he's had around (and she *would* be good at it, besides), and she seriously wants the status.
*shrug* That's Lydia. I do feel sorry for her, though.
no subject
Date: 2012-01-05 01:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-03 09:50 pm (UTC)