( VOICEMAIL @ PROXIMA ) do you have an iq over 170?

[afieldsmedal]

❝ You've reached Lydia Martin. I'm obviously not available right now, or I'm screening my calls and don't want to talk to you. But either way, leave a message and I might get back to you. ❞


( TEXT - VIDEO - VOICEMAIL - ARCHAIC LATIN )

Comments

[freaking]

[Stiles is double-fisting his mug and a cheese and cracker sandwich--classiest company--and is half-way through a bite when she says I don't think I've heard everything. He stops mid-chew, washes it down with another swig of wine, which is going to take him to tipsyville sooner rather than later, and narrows his eyes a little as he watches her.]

What have you heard? [Because Stiles has been pretty mum about his hookups with Derek, which means Mr. "Don't Tell Anyone About This" has had something to say.]

[afieldsmedal]

Um.

[ shit.

lydia stalls by taking a long, deep sip of her wine. she didn't want to get too inebriated — she had stuff to do later; people to do, too — but who knows if she's already shot herself in the foot. ]

I know you two were at the New Year's party together. Got hit by another dose of — well, you know...

[ i don't know if i'm really that into stiles. ]

[freaking]

Nice. [Stiles nods jerkily, dragging a hand over his face before squinting down into his mug.] Really nice, since he told me to not tell anyone and then--clearly turned around and waved his stupid hypocritical hands and did exactly what he told me not to do.

Anything else?

[afieldsmedal]

No, that was it.

[ she also turned around and challenged derek to a who can make stiles come the most when he's a girl contest, but he didn't take her up on it so it doesn't count. ]

But I'm guessing things didn't go well, and are continuing to not go well since then.

[freaking]

[The thing is, Stiles used to not give a crap if things didn't go well with Derek. That was kind of their default state of existing, for a long time, maybe edging into tolerating and trusting each other back home before they all got unceremoniously thrown into this mess.

And that's exactly what this is: a mess. He doesn't know when he started caring and he hates that he does, feeling the tell-tale numbness in his fingertips that comes with a fresh buzz but the wine isn't really helping him to not feel like shit. It's just amplifying the fact that he feels like shit.]

I kind of refused to talk to him until he texted me and asked about my whole girl... [Stiles gestures vaguely.] Problem. And offered to help with it. Again.

[He sets his mug down on her table for a moment, jaw working as he rests his elbows on his knees.]

So he did, and he was really--into it? Which I thought was maybe just, you know, the vagina thing, if it weren't for the round we had once I switched back. Chip influence-free. And he was really into that.

[His throat's tight, because this current problem is Derek-related but it's not all about Derek, and Stiles doesn't even know how to get into the rest, lacing his fingers together and bouncing his leg, not quite looking at Lydia.]

I could probably deal with him being an asshole if sex wasn't involved, you know? But he insists there's nothing wrong with me and then turns around and is a complete dick and I can't-- I spent the first sixteen years of my life being completely undesirable to basically everyone [There's an unspoken to you in there, because Lydia was everyone, for about as long as he can remember.] so it's a lot easier for me to wrap my brain around someone being totally disgusted by me than really wanting me. And it feels like shit.