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“What is wrong with you?” Lydia hissed as she helped Allison up from the ground. “You’re a hunter, not a werewolf! You fight with projectiles. From a distance.”
“Not always!” Allison retorted, her head still spinning, then held up one hand to shush Lydia, and the two of them watched as Scott and the twins dealt with Kincaid.
Afterwards, as Kincaid slunk out of sight – beaten and humbled and still dangerous – Scott turned, scroll held tight in one hand, to take stock. The twins were fine, of course – those two always did land on their feet. Kira pulled herself up and dusted herself off. She seemed a little dazed, but when Scott asked if she was all right she responded in the affirmative, bright eyes alight with the thrill of adventure.
“Allison?”
“Oh, fine. I’m fine,” Allison answered, aware of Lydia standing at her elbow. She’s proud of Scott, she is. He’s grown, matured. She still sees flashes of the earnest, awkward, somewhat clueless boy she’d first met, but responsibility has weighed on him, tempered him. He’s learning how to lead and he’s not hers anymore, not like that, but she’s proud of him.
“I need to take this to Deaton,” Scott said.
“Go,” Allison said, “Let us know as soon as you have something.”
“I will.”
***
“So,” Lydia’s movements are all crisp, economical efficiency as she goes about getting an icepack for the side of Allison’s face. “What was that all about?”
“What was what all about?”
Allison is perched on a bar stool in her kitchen and playing dumb. Playing dumb is pretty much guaranteed to never work with Lydia, but that doesn’t stop Allison from trying. Lydia rolls her eyes at Allison and gives her a reproving look.
“You’re an expert archer. I don’t have to explain that arrows are not effective short-range weapons, do I?”
“No.”
“So? What was that all about?”
“Nothing! Things just happened really quickly, that’s all.”
“Uh-huh,” Lydia says, her fingers brisk but gentle as she pulls Allison’s hair aside to inspect the lump rising on the side of Allison’s head. “How’s it feel?”
“That wall probably doesn’t know what hit it,” Allison jokes, grinning and holding the icepack to her head, then wilts under Lydia’s glare. “It’s fine, Lyds, I’ve had worse.”
“It’s not Scott, is it?”
“What?”
“Scott. I know things have been rough Allison, but you don’t need to prove anything to him.”
“What – I – you think I was showing off?”
“Honestly? It would make more sense than you misjudging a fight. You should know better than to go hand-to-hand with a werewolf.”
Allison glares at Lydia, stung, and snaps, “Well, you were supposed to stay out of sight.”
“Oh, please,” Lydia says, tossing her hair and rolling her eyes at the ceiling. “Like I was going to let you get trampled in the scuffle. And don’t change the subject.”
“You – oh.” Allison pauses and studies Lydia.
“What?”
“You’re worried about me. You were worried about me.”
“Well of course I was! Every day it’s a grand new adventure in near-death experiences. We lost Erica and Boyd and none of you are actually invulnerable.”
Allison sets the icepack down on the counter and reaches out to catch Lydia by the wrist. “Lyds. Lydia. I’m careful. I know what I’m doing.”
“Are you sure?” Lydia’s tone is acid, but she’s not pulling away. “Because it didn’t look like it when you got knocked head-first into a brick wall.”
“I had it under control,” Allison says, giving Lydia’s wrist a gentle tug, until Lydia is standing right beside her. Lydia shifts her weight and looks away, then meets Allison’s eyes. With Allison seated on the bar stool and Lydia standing, their eyes are at about the same level.
Lydia narrows her eyes and gives Allison a searching look, then sighs. “If you say so.”
“I do.”
Lydia pulls her hand away from Allison to pick up the icepack and holds it out to Allison. “Ice, Allison. It only helps with the swelling in close proximity.”
Allison takes the icepack and lifts it to the side of her head once more, watching as Lydia moves around the kitchen, reaching down glasses from a cupboard, moving with confidence. Lydia hasn’t left Allison’s side since Allison’s father was arrested, and even before that she’d been spending increasing amounts of time at Allison’s place. Allison likes that Lydia knows where things are in Allison’s house, that she’s made herself at home. Allison watches the overhead lights catch Lydia’s hair, turning it fiery gold, then looks away when Lydia turns back to her.
“I might have been showing off,” Allison mutters. “A little.”
“I knew it!”
“But it wasn’t for Scott.”
There’s a silence and Allison looks up as Lydia walks towards her; she can’t quite believe she just said that. Lydia stops immediately before Allison and sets the two glasses of water in her hands on the island.
“Oh, no?”
“No,” Allison says, her mouth dry.
Allison feels her pulse speed up as Lydia moves even closer, leaning into Allison’s space. “So who were you showing off for?”
“You’re some kind of genius,” Allison says, dropping the icepack once more and reaching out to settle her hands on the curves of Lydia’s hips. “Figure it out.”
“So much for subtle,” Lydia murmurs, and then Allison shuts her up by tugging her forward a last few centimeters and kissing her perfect lips.
For the briefest of moments the kiss is soft and sweet and chaste, and then Lydia winds her arms around Allison and leans in and the kiss turns dizzyingly dirty-hot.
When Allison comes up for air she discovers that she’s wrapped her legs around Lydia’s waist, has both hands buried in Lydia’s beautiful hair and seems to have lost the ability to think.
“Wow,” Allison says articulately. “That was amazing, you’re amazing!”
“I know,” Lydia says, a self-satisfied little smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
Allison rolls her eyes and kisses Lydia again. This time it’s Lydia who pulls away, her eyes dilated, breathing hard.
“Not that I dislike your kitchen but perhaps we should relocate?”
“Fine by me,” Allison says, sliding down off the bar stool onto rubbery legs. She reaches out, twines her fingers with Lydia’s, and leads the way to Allison’s room.
***
“You don’t need to impress me you know,” Lydia says, later. She’s propped up on one elbow on Allison’s bed, staring down at Allison.
Allison is lying on her back, staring at the ceiling. She slants her eyes sideways to look at Lydia. “There’s a lot of competition.”
“There’s no competition,” Lydia says. “And you’re very impressive.”
“Really?”
“Well, you’ll be a lot less impressive if you let yourself get gutted by some werewolf,” Lydia says, her tone pointed.
Allison grins and reaches up to push a strand of hair back from Lydia’s face. “Oh, well in that case. Guess I’ll stick around.”
Lydia lowers her head, leaning down until her lips are brushing Allison’s ear. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
Allison shivers as Lydia pulls back just far enough to look Allison in the eye. Lydia arches an eyebrow at Allison; Allison raises her own back, then tugs at Lydia, flipping her onto her back. Lydia makes a small, surprised sound and Allison leans down and kisses her like a promise.
“With an offer like that, how could I refuse?”
“So no more showing off?”
“I’ll do my best.”
“I’ll take that for now,” Lydia says, and Allison laughs and flops down next to her.
Allison watches the lengthening shadows on the walls of her room and doesn’t look at Lydia as she says, “So, uh. It’s getting late…”
“And?”
“Are you staying?”
“Of course I’m staying,” Lydia says, with a delicate little huff. “I have my own personal bodyguard. Why would I leave?”
“I can think of, oh, at least a dozen people who would be thrilled to be your bodyguard.”
“True. But then who would keep you from walking into traps and getting thrown into walls?”
“Good point,” Allison says, settling in next to Lydia. “So just to be clear - no competition?”
“Allison, you’re a hunter and my best friend and a fantastic kisser. There’s no competition.”