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No one who really knows Lydia would call her stupid, but sometimes wonders if Scott really thinks she hasn't noticed his behavior lately. Ever since everyone came out of the final confrontation with Deucalion and the Darach by the skin of their teeth, Scott's been careful and watchful of everyone but especially so with her.
As much as Lydia loves attention, Scott's brand of attention is starting to grate on her nerves. “Scott McCall, if you don't come out of that tree right now, I am going to scream,” she says to herself, slamming one of her new books on Celtic mythology shut, knowing Scott would hear her perfectly well. “You do not want me to scream.”
A moment later, Scott sheepishly slips through her window. “How long have you known?” he asks.
Lydia rolls her eyes. “The whole time, Scott,” she says exasperatedly. “Why aren't you doing this with Stiles or Allison?”
Scott shuffles his feet uncomfortably. “Because Isaac is watching Allison, and Stiles has been prodding Derek for information about his past, so he's been at the loft more nights than not?” he offers.
“Seriously?” she questions unhappily. “That's your excuse? It has nothing to do with what I am?”
He shakes his head. “You're just Lydia,” Scott replies innocently. “Whatever you are doesn't mean a thing.”
Lydia tilts her head, trying to find a lie in Scott's words and huffs when she finds none. “You can watch me from in here, then,” she states. “No reason for you to spend half your nights in a tree outside my window.”
“Thanks, Lydia,” he replies as Lydia flicks off her desk lamp and walks toward her bed. “I'll just-”
“No,” she interrupts as she climbs into bed then pulls back the covers for Scott. “Easier to keep an eye me this way, right?”
Scott eyes Lydia suspiciously as she smiles, patting the bed next to her. “Are you really going to, what, sleep at the end of my bed like a dog?”
“I think you've been hanging out with Stiles too much,” he mutters as he kicks off his sneakers and shrugs out of his hoodie and leather jacket.
“It's not my fault Stiles finds my company superior,” Lydia says before placing a hand on Scott's chest. “Jeans, off. That won't be comfortable for anyone.”
Scott shucks his jeans hesitantly then climbs into bed next to her. Lydia makes a pleased noise before pulling Scott close to her. He squirms for a moment and settles soon enough, his nose pressed into her neck unintentionally. She tilts her neck and sighs when he rubs his face into her neck.
“Scent marking, really?” Lydia asks, and Scott stiffens against her. “I didn't say you had to stop. I was just making sure you know I know what you're doing.”
Scott lifts his head. “You don't mind?”
She shrugs with the shoulder Scott's not plastered to. “Why should I? It's making you feel better, and only werewolves can really notice the difference anyway,” she explains. “There's no shame in it.”
Burying his face into Lydia's neck again, Scott smiles against her. “Thanks,” he murmurs. “I just want to keep everyone safe.”
“I know,” she replies quietly, running her fingers through Scott's hair. “Mmm, leave your jacket in the morning. I have an outfit that'd work with an oversized leather jacket. The more scent marking, the better, right?”
Scott huffs as he nuzzles her neck. “You can't keep it,” he mutters.
“Like I'd wanna keep it,” Lydia scoffs. “Just shut up and sleep, Scott.”
“You first,” he says, and Lydia complies but only because reading up Celtic myths about yourself can be very tiring.