Archive of Our Own

  1. Scott McCall

Lydia honestly didn’t know how she had gotten into this situation. It might have been a testament to how much she had grown as a caring human being, but most likely it was just evidence that she was doubting herself for the first time in her life. Prepare yourself for this: Lydia Martin was planning on asking someone for advice. The horror!

Well, Lydia was forced to ask Scott McCall for advice. More specifically, advice on what to buy Stiles for her eighteenth birthday. This seemingly normal task was made terrifying by these factors: (a) Lydia rarely asked anyone for guidance, as she herself was usually the giver of wisdom, and not the receiver, and (b) she was at that moment unsure of her feelings, and the intensity of those feelings, towards Miss Stiles Stilinski.

Lydia tried to tell herself that she just wanted to be a thoughtful friend, as she didn’t have many true friends to begin with. She told herself that she was imagining things when her heart sped up in her chest whenever Stiles entered a room. She told herself these things because the alternative would be ridiculous. She lied to herself so frequently that she almost started to believe it.

“Almost” being the key term.

So, on Friday, when Scott opened his front door to see Lydia Martin standing there with a hand on her hip and a fake smile plastered to her face, to say he was surprised is a bit of an understatement.

“Uh…hey, Lydia. What are you doing here?” Scott asked with an awkward smile.

He looked the same way she felt, but she was such a pro at hiding any unwanted emotions that Scott couldn’t tell.

“Scott, sweetie,” her smile widened, “can’t a friend stop by just to say hello?”

“But…you’ve never come to my house before. I didn’t think that you even knew where I lived.”

“Don’t be silly. I know where everyone at school lives.”

Scott nodded and then they fell into silence. His face transformed into “Uncomfortable-Kicked-Puppy-Mode” and Lydia felt bad for him, so she spoke.

“So are you going to invite me in? You know it’s rude to leave a girl waiting.”

“Yeah, sure. Sorry. Uh…come on in.” His eyebrows furrowed together so much that Lydia worried he would develop premature wrinkles.

Scott invited her to sit down in his living room. He explained that his mom was working the evening shift at the hospital. This relaxed Lydia a bit, paranoid about more people than necessary overhearing her moment of weakness.

“So…we’re alone, then?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah, I guess. Are you okay, Lydia? You’re acting kind of weird--”

“If I confess that I need help with something, will you swear on your puny little werewolf soul that you won’t tell anyone else about it?”

His eyes widened in concern and he nodded. “Of course. What is it? Is it something to do with Peter again?”

“No, you dimwit.” She sighed deeply. “I need help buying Stiles a birthday present.”

Scott stared at her for all of three seconds and then promptly burst out laughing. “Oh my God, seriously? That’s what you looked so nervous about?”

Lydia sniffed haughtily, not appreciating being laughed at. “Yes. People always flock to me for advice. I thought that if it got back at school that I needed help from you, they would think I’m weak.”

“That’s some pretty weird logic, don’t you think?”

“I can’t change the way I am, Scott.” She smiled tightly.

“Right. So did you have any ideas of what you wanted to get her?”

“Not really. That’s why I came to you. What kinds of things does she like?”

Scott’s trademark “Dumb and Confused” expression was back. “Uh, Stiles? I mean…I don’t know…”

“Are you serious, Scott. She’s your best friend, and you don’t even know what she likes?”

“I know what she likes, okay! I mean, Stiles likes…Stiles things.”

“ ‘Stiles things,’ ” she repeated dryly.

“Yeah, Stiles things! You know, she likes video games and bad t.v. shows and those beanie hat things…and she’s kind of into this really shitty rock band--”

“Okay. Scott.” She interrupted, holding up one of her perfectly manicured hands. “What did you get her?”

Scott grinned. “I got her the new Call of Duty. She’s gonna be so excited when she sees it--”

“What the hell is a Call of Duty?”

Scott’s mouth dropped open in horror. “You don’t know what Call of Duty is? It’s only the best video game ever!”

Lydia rolled her eyes, tutting. “I’m not buying Stiles a stupid video game for her. A girl’s eighteenth birthday is important, Scott.”

Scott smiled, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “You know, if you’re hoping to get with Stiles in the future, you’re probably gonna have to be familiar with Call of Duty. Even if you think it’s a stupid video game.”

A slow, stinging burn crept up Lydia’s face. This was what she had been scared about during these past few months. The fallacy she’d been trying to live under was see-through not only by herself, but by other people as well. If Scott of all people had seen through it, then surely more people had been doing the same. Right?

“Who the hell said anything about me being with her?” With her cheeks thoroughly flushed, and her nose giving the telltale twitch signaling tears would soon follow, she quickly stood up to leave

Scott caught up to her at the door. “Lydia, wait!” He clutched her arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset. It just seemed like the two of you were getting close, and I just thought…you know. Honestly, Stiles would love anything you got her. So…as long as it means a lot to you, she’ll think the world of it. Okay?”

Lydia nodded thoughtfully, swallowing her emotions. In those extra moments, she managed to muster up some of her confidence. And with that confidence, she jabbed Scott in the chest with a painted nail. “And just so we’re clear, I do not have some Sapphic infatuation with Stiles, and you will not tell anyone about any part of this conversation we just had. Got it?”

Once again, Scott frowned uneasily. “Uh…yeah, sure. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Good werewolf,” she crooned, patting him affectionately on the cheek. And with that, she flipped her strawberry hair over one shoulder and sashayed out the front door.

Scott stood in the doorway for a moment, dumbfounded and experiencing a delayed reaction.

Then he ran outside and yelled after her, “Hey! What does ‘Sapphic’ mean?”

Lydia didn’t even bother turning around when she replied, “Look it up, genius!”

2. Sheriff Stilinski

So Plan A didn’t work so great. However, Lydia Martin always had plans A-Z for most everything, so this slight setback didn’t deter her in the slightest. Since she only managed to get a vague idea of a birthday present through Scott, Lydia quickly decided who the next alternative would be: Sheriff Stilinski, Stiles’ father.

So in other words, she had the target, but she needed to work on her strategy. After some deep thinking, she remembered that the Sheriff would be at the school on Monday to question students about the three people who had gone missing. She figured that she’d be able to sneak in between interrogations and talk to him then.

However, that was three days in the future, so she really didn’t have much to do over the weekend.

To pass the time, she caught up with her Quantum Physics book, and translated ancient Latin to stay on her A-game.

On Sunday, her mom spent the afternoon at her creepy cult-like book club, so she texted Aiden to come over and cure her boredom. Meaning, they had rough and dirty sex. Normally, this would be just what Lydia needed, but something was very different that time.

Aiden fucked her repeatedly against her closet door, which was pretty great. But when Lydia came so hard she saw stars, it wasn’t Aiden’s face that was among them.

So...yeah, that happened. After Aiden left, implying he had werewolfy business to attend to, Lydia sat herself down on the bed and had a long heart-to-heart with herself. After all, fantasizing about an awkward, lanky five foot nine girl with wavy brown hair and big doe eyes--ahem--during sex was not a common occurrence for someone like Lydia. As such, she needed to re-evaluate everything she previously knew about herself.

Lydia had mastered the art of denial long ago, but she was also smart enough to realize that this wasn’t something she could just sweep under the rug.

But she couldn’t possibly be a lesbian. She didn’t even like girls!

Ever since she was a little girl, Lydia had it all planned out: She would go to college, marry a muscular athlete, have a family, and use the money she received from her Fields Medal to buy a gigantic indoor swimming pool for said family.

Now these plans were being threatened thanks to this girl who can’t sit still and plays Call of Duty (which, by the way, Lydia never has, and never will, try to understand) as an obsessive hobby.

She sat there and worried so much that she unconsciously started biting her nails-- a habit that hadn’t been present since junior high. Eventually, she decided that excessive anxiety and lack of sleep would only damage her near-perfect complexion; so, with an ache in her heart and one person constantly on her mind, she grudgingly laid down in her bed and fell asleep.

The next morning marked one of the few times in Lydia’s life where she actually dreaded going to school. Her head throbbed, her back was suffering due to the sex, and the knot in her stomach refused to unwind itself.

However, as she was Lydia freaking Martin, warrior girl extraordinaire, she fixed her hair, applied eyeliner that could kill a man, and headed out the door to her car with a swing in her step.

School wasn’t as bad as she expected. Most of her classes thoroughly distracted her from thoughts of the soon-to-be birthday girl, and more specifically, what to buy her.

Between second and third period, she tried getting in to see the Sheriff, but he was busy questioning another student.

Lunch could have probably gone better.

As usual, Stiles was sitting in the seat to her right, with Scott across from her, and Danny to her right, and Allison across from Lydia. Isaac sat to the right of Scott.

Amidst the loud chatter and laughing amongst Danny, Isaac, and Scott, she felt a pair of eyes on her, and she tentatively turned to see Stiles staring at her in concern.

Her knee-jerk reaction to an uncomfortable situation being snarkiness, she snapped, “What’s wrong with you? Did you forget to take your Adderall this morning or something?”

Stiles visibly shrank back as if physically struck, and Lydia immediately felt like the shittiest person on the planet. “Uh…I was just wondering if you were okay.”

“Why would you ask that, Stiles?”

Stiles gestured to Lydia’s hands. “Your nails. They’re bitten. You haven’t bitten your nails in years, and when you did, it was because you were worried about something.”

Something in Lydia’s cold, frigid heart thawed out when she heard that. Seriously, who actually took the time and effort to observe the tiny little habits of another person? Stiles freaking Stilinski, apparently.

She took one of her bitten-up hands and placed it on top of Stiles’. “I’m fine, Stiles. Thank you, though.” And she smiled at her, trying to return the favor for all of the times that Stiles had given her a timid smile, or a mischievous grin, or a full-out laugh.

And she very pointedly ignored the open-mouthed stares she received from all of her friends at the table.

***

Finally, at the end of the day, she was able to sneak in to see Sheriff Stilinski.

He was sitting in the guidance office, finishing up interrogation notes. She knocked on the doorframe to signal her presence, and when he looked up, he honestly looked shocked to see her there.

“Hi, Sheriff Stilinski.” She smiled brightly at him.

“Uh…you’re Lydia, right?” She nodded in response.

“So are you here to give me information about these…incidents that have been going on? If you’re worried about speaking up, I can promise you that anything you tell me will stay confidential, and your name will never be mentioned.

She took a seat right across from him. “Actually, I need some help with something else. It has to do with Stiles.”

The Sheriff let out a deflating sigh. He buried his face in his hands and muttered in a muffled voice, “Oh, great. What did she do now? That kid is always getting into trouble.”

“No, it’s not that!” she interjected quickly. “I just need help getting a gift for her birthday.”

The Sheriff looked relieved, but he still wore a confused expression on his face. “Are you friends with her? I mean, I know she always talks about you, but I didn’t think you two were…friends.”

“In a way, yes,” she replied.

“Well…I don’t really know,” he started, scratching his head. “Did you ask Scott? They have similar interests.”

“I tried Scott, but being the clueless teenage boy he is, suggested that I buy her a video game.”

The Sheriff chuckled, visibly relaxing. “Well, she does like playing those stupid things.”

Lydia hesitated before speaking again. “I wanted to buy her something meaningful. She and Allison and Scott are pretty much the first real friends I’ve had, and Stiles has been there for me more times than I can think of.”

The Sheriff smiled at her. “Well, if that’s the case. To be honest with you, Stiles’ birthday is usually really stressful for her, because it’s so close to the death of her mother.”

Lydia felt as if she had overstepped some really obvious boundary. “I’m so sorry, I probably shouldn’t--”

The Sheriff quickly dismissed it with a wave of his hand and his face scrunched up in the way that it always did when something make him uncomfortable. “Nah, it’s fine.

Before she could stop herself, Lydia asked, “What was Stiles’ mother like? I don’t ever remember seeing her before and I was just…curious, I guess.”

“Well…” The Sheriff leaned back in his chair and sighed. “She was like Stiles in a lot of ways. She had the same…reckless personality that Stiles has. Every week, she’d be trying out a new hobby or activity. And she absolutely loved life…that made me love her even more.”

Lydia smiled and came to the conclusion that she would’ve really liked Claudia Stilinski had she still been alive.

“She loved reading to Stiles. She would read to her every single night, no exceptions, up until Stiles was about seven or eight. Stiles loved it when she would read this one book--oh, what was it called? It was about the big and little hare, and--”

“ ‘Guess How Much I Love You’,” Lydia whispered. She had loved that book as a child.

The Sheriff nodded. “Yeah, that was the one. Anyways, it was a really special book to both of them. Claudia had even written little messages to Stiles on different pages. After she died…I wasn’t in the right state of mind for a while. Every time I would see something of Claudia’s, I would be reminded all over again that she was gone. I thought that if I got rid of her stuff, it wouldn’t hurt as much every day. So one day while Stiles was at school, I gathered up a bunch of Claudia’s things, including that book, and donated them to different stores throughout town. You wouldn’t even believe how mad Stiles was when she found out. She refused to talk to me for an entire week.”

Lydia leaned forward abruptly, eyes wide. “Do you have any idea where it might have been sent to?”

Mr. Stilinski’s forehead creased. “What, the book? I have no idea. There’s a couple of second-hand bookstores downtown. Maybe it would be there. Why do you ask?”

Lydia stood up from her seat and walked out. “Because I have an idea. Thanks for the help, Sheriff!”

***

Later that afternoon when she had unsuccessfully searched the third bookstore in town, she blatantly ignored the troubling voice in her head that accused her of maybe, just maybe, caring about this girl more than she previously thought. Instead, she justified her actions by thinking “everyone loves a good adventure.”

By 6:30, it was almost dark outside, she forgot her pepper spray at home, and her feet were killing her (due to her insanely impractical heels.) She walked into the last possible conceivable bookstore that Stiles’ book could be at, clinging onto a shred of hope. When she asked the apathetic clerk where the children’s books were, he lazily pointed to the back corner of the store. She walked back and scrutinized every book in that section, making sure that she didn’t miss it. Just as she reached the bottom shelf and her faith plummeted, her eyes caught it. “Guess How Much I Love You.” Her heart pounded in her chest as she reached out and turned to the inside cover.

Written in small, erratic lettering that resembled Stiles’, the message said:

“My sweet, precious Stiles! It’s hard to believe you’re six years old already. It’s almost like it was yesterday when I was changing your poopy diapers while your father stood helplessly to the side. You’ve turned into quite a troublemaker since then, but I love you all the more for it. I know already that one day you’ll turn into a special young lady. No matter what happens in the future, just remember that we are both so proud of you, Stiles.

Love, Mommy”

Lydia tore her eyes away and closed the book. She knew there were more messages throughout the pages, but she felt it would be an intrusion to go any further. This was all the confirmation she needed.

She quickly paid for the book and walked to her car, feeling her heart swell with a mix of emotions.

***

While driving to Stiles’ house that Saturday, Lydia wondered how in the world Stiles had agreed to a birthday party in the first place. She obviously hated them. Lydia guessed she was probably doing it to make her dad happy. After all, every parent wants his kid to have a special eighteenth birthday.

Lydia had ended up getting Stiles two gifts: some scarves (because Stiles had developed a recent interest in them) to give her during the actual party, and the book, which she planned on giving afterwards when the time seemed right. Going into it, Lydia realized that maybe it wasn’t the most detailed or genius plan in the world, but it would just have to do.

And besides, she couldn’t just give her the book in front of everyone else there! She didn’t know what reaction she’d get from Stiles, and didn’t want to risk a scene in front of the other party guests.

Speaking of party guests, there weren’t that many. Scott obviously showed up, since those two were joined at the hip. Besides him, only a select few were invited: Lydia, Allison, Boyd, Danny, and a few other people that Stiles must have known since childhood.

The party was extremely low-key, which was an odd experience for someone like Lydia, who was known for throwing notoriously extravagant bashes. Stiles screamed when she opened Scott’s present, the dork. She also really liked the scarves, which made Lydia breathe a sigh of relief. If nothing good came out of the other gift, at least she liked the scarves.

People were starting to leave, with the exception of Scott and Boyd, when Lydia overcame the knot in her stomach and went up to Stiles, who was sitting at her kitchen table.

“Stiles? Do you think we could go somewhere…quiet…for a minute?”

Stiles was distracted from her fixation on the party-sized Doritos bag, and looked up. “Yeah, sure! We can go to my room.”

As they walked up the steps together, Lydia tried to distract herself from her anxiety by focusing on other little things: the pictures on the wall, and even the cheese dust that covered a good portion of Stiles’ right cheek.

Stiles let her go in first, and then quietly shut the door behind them. “So what’s up?” she smiled, albeit a little nervously. Lydia had only been in her room a few times before, and when she did, it was usually because something of dire importance was occurring in Beacon Hills.

Lydia pulled the wrapped book from her Prada Purse, and held it out to Stiles without hesitating. “I wanted to give this to you in private. I found it at a bookstore the other day…I just hope I’m not overstepping any boundaries.”

Stiles laughed. “What, did you buy me the Kama Sutra or something?”

Lydia didn’t answer, and instead just waited while the other girl unwrapped the gift. As soon as she saw cover, her smile dropped. An uncomfortable silence fell on the room. Stiles didn’t say one word as she looked at the pages. Lydia was terrified what would happen next. She didn’t know how Stiles would interpret her actions. After all, she had the reputation of being a stuck-up asshole, so why wouldn’t she buy Stiles a book that her dead mother used to read to her?

The last thing she wanted was for Stiles to think that she bought the book to cause her pain.

Stiles had a hard time looking up. “How…how did you know about this?”

Lydia moved closer to her. “Your dad told me that your mom used to read it to you. He said there were a couple of places it could have been sent to.”

Stiles sniffed and her voice cracked. “How long did it take you to find it?”

Lydia shifted awkwardly. “Oh, you know. Not that long. I just went after school last Monday and it took me a few hours…but I found it. Like I said, not that long.”

Stiles finally looked at her, and Lydia was heartbroken to see that she was crying. She wished that she could take it all back.

Stiles moved closer to her, and Lydia thought that she was going to get punched or something, but then. But then. Stiles wrapped her skinny arms around her and hugged her tight. She could feel the wetness from the other girl’s tears on her cheek, and she reciprocated the embrace, overwhelmed by the desire to make this ridiculous woman happy.

They rocked back and forth for a minute, and then Stiles whispered into her ear, “Thank you so much, Lydia. Thank you.” Lydia squeezed back in response.

Lydia felt small in Stiles’ arms. She felt safe and calm, which was an odd feeling for her. But more importantly, she finally knew what it felt like to selflessly care for another person, and how it felt to be she felt like she was loved and cared for.

***

When she drove home and saw in her mirror that there was cheese dust on her own face, she didn’t even mind. In fact, she laughed about it.

***

The events of third period Art had to be a coincidence.

She, Stiles, Aiden, and Isaac were at one table with Allison, Scott, and Ethan at a table to the left of theirs. The whole class had been working on nature paintings for a few days, and Lydia was working on a painting of a giant leafless tree. Isaac sat to her left, with Stiles across from her, and Aiden across from Isaac.

Naturally, there was a lot of silent tension and anger between the twins and Isaac. They couldn’t exactly wolf out and rip each other’s throats out, so they resorted to intense glaring and the occasional low growl. Stiles looked like she was about to piss herself in fear if the nonverbal peacocking didn’t stop any time soon. Any time the twins or Isaac caught the girl nervously watching them, she would jump and look away so fast that she almost fell out of her seat.

It was a pretty nerve-wracking fifty minutes, but Lydia couldn’t help but laugh when she watched Stiles at work. As the period went on, her painting techniques steadily became more violent and haphazard. At the beginning of class, she had accomplished, at best, a badly painted blue jay. About twenty minutes after that, it had descended into looking like a dinosaur with crazy eyes and furry wings. When Stiles actually noticed her reverse progress, she muttered “Shit” and tried to repair some of the damage, gripping the thin paintbrush so hard that Lydia was worried it would break.

Stiles finally looked up, defeated, with her clothes splattered with black and blue paint. Her eyes met Lydia’s, who had been examining her for the past three minutes. A dark red blush crept up Stiles’ neck and face.

They awkwardly tried transitioning back to what they had been previously doing, Stiles looking down at the table, and Lydia inspecting her flawless nails. Lydia tried swallowing the lump in her throat, but it didn’t work.

But even all of this was better than what happened next.

The tension between Isaac and the twins was reaching ridiculous levels, and Scott looked like he was about to step in between them pretty soon. Lydia suspected most of it had to do with stupid teenage boy hormones more than anything else.

This is what Lydia remembered seeing: Ethan grinning like a psychopath, doing something with his hands on the table that was obscured from Lydia’s vision; Allison’s eyes widening and yelling “Don’t do it!” Ethan holding up a sponge soaked in blue paint, throwing it harder than necessary, Isaac ducking out of the way, and--- the sponge hitting Lydia square in the face.

Nobody made so much as a peep for the first few moments of the aftershock, but then the room erupted into a cacophony of yelling and chairs scraping on the floor; Ms. Anderson running over and giving the twins a detention, Scott dragging Isaac out into the hallway to calm him down…Excluding the testosterone-pumped werewolves, the rest of the class opted to openly stare at the newly-blue Lydia.

Although she didn’t outwardly show it, she was seething with rage. Furious that Ethan had to act like such a toddler, furious that she would get a new reputation as a Smurf, furious that everyone (including Stiles) was staring at her with sympathetic looks. Deciding not to be part of the pity party, she clenched her jaw, held her head high, and rose out of her seat.

Allison started to get out of her seat to help, but Stiles beat her to it, already walking over to Lydia. Stiles led her to the wash station, hand almost resting on her elbow, but not quite touching.

“You can sit here if you want,” Stiles offered, gesturing to a stool by the sink.

Lydia swallowed and sat on the wobbly stool, wondering why she wasn’t arguing about anything.

Stiles turned her back to Lydia and wet a washcloth in the sink.

“Do you want me to…um…help you with that?” Stiles gestured to Lydia’s face.

“I don’t care,” she replied huffily, wanting to maintain any ounce of dignity she had left.

Stiles rolled her eyes in mild exasperation. “Typical Lydia,” she muttered, gently tipping Lydia’s head up at a different angle so she could get better access.

Stiles refused to make eye contact with Lydia, instead fixing her gaze on her blue forehead or cheek. They fell into a comfortable silence with every swipe of the washcloth.

Then Stiles had to go and ruin it. “You know…blue is a good color on you. Reminds me of that cute girl off of ‘Avatar.’”

The blush that attacked Lydia’s face at that comment was so strong that it was a wonder that she didn’t spontaneously combust or something.

“I doubt that very many girls would swoon over being compared to a blue alien, Stiles.”

“Okay. One: Excuse you, she is a human-alien hybrid. And two: It wasn’t my intention to make you swoon.”

Shit, shit, that was stupid. Of course Stiles wasn’t trying to make her swoon. Stiles was just being typical dorky Stiles, and now she probably thought that Lydia was paranoid or hyper-sensitive to imaginary flirtations from a gay woman--

“Just so you know, I’m not…gay or anything. I mean, I like guys, too. I didn’t know if you knew that already or not.”

Okay--from a bisexual woman.

“Oh. Okay. That’s great.” Lydia peeped, effectively ending the conversation.

When Lydia glanced over at the rest of her classmates, she caught Allison staring sympathetically, so she quickly looked down at the floor. God, I wish she would hurry up, she thought.

“So,” Stiles began, a small smirk twitching her lips, “I guess it’s a good thing that acrylic paint comes out of skin…or else it’d really be ‘A-cryl-joy,’ am I right?”

“Oh my God.” Lydia buried her face in her hands, getting paint on them. “That was literally the worse pun I have ever heard. And that’s coming from someone who dated Jackson.”

Stiles was full-out grinning now. “Come on! That was an awesome pun, and I just came up with it on the spot!”

“Nope. No. It was terrible.” She tried to keep her smile hidden, but Stiles noticed it right away.

“See, you’re smiling! Come on, I know you wanna laugh!”

“Give me that!” Lydia yanked the washcloth from Stiles. “You’ve lost any and all paint-cleaning privileges. Forever.”

“Whatever. And I thought Derek was the grumpy one.”

Once again, they fell into a relaxed silence as Lydia cleaned the remaining paint from her face and hands.

Stiles sighed and casually leaned back against the counter. “Hey…the period is almost over…”

“And?” Lydia raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

“And…I’ve come up with a plan.”

“For what?”

“To get a little payback.”

Lydia stared in confusion as Stiles once again turned her back to her and quickly set to work at whatever it was that she was planning. The redhead glanced at the clock and saw there was only about thirty seconds left until the bell rang.

Twenty seconds, and Stiles’ arm flails out and feels around the collection of paint bottles sitting on the shelf.

Fifteen seconds, and Stiles chooses the purple bottle.

Eight seconds and Lydia hears the flatulating-sound of paint being squirted out.

Four seconds, and Stiles turns around gives Lydia the most beautiful, mischievous grin imaginable.

The bell went off with a noisy ring, and Stiles sprinted towards the front of the room with the unknown object in hand.

Lydia was barely off of the stool when she heard Stiles yell “Purple really brings out your eyes, Ethan!” which was followed by an ungodly non-human growl.

Lydia rushed out of her seat and tried to get a view of what had happened. She didn’t make it in time to see Stiles, who had apparently rushed out of the room after completing her mission. But she managed to put the pieces together, what with Ethan sitting there with his now-purple hair, and Scott trying his hardest not to keel over with laughter. The purple-soaked sponge lay as evidence on the floor by Ethan’s chair.

Stiles was absent from lunch that day. Lydia felt a deep sense of unbalance and uneasiness from this phenomenon, which kind of surprised her.

She nonchalantly asked Scott if he knew anything pertaining to her whereabouts, and he replied that Stiles had to spend lunch in a “disciplinary meeting” with the principal.

Even more shocking was that Lydia actually felt guilty. Guilty that Stiles was receiving punishment simply for avenging Lydia’s honor during art class. And especially guilty that all Stiles has ever been to her is sweet and kind and funny. All Lydia has ever done to return the favor is sometimes smile at her, or go a whole day without rolling her eyes at the dorky girl.

She took all of this information in, and knew that she wasn’t a very good person. However, being the proud and stubborn woman she was, she didn’t express these vulnerable feelings to anyone at the table.

Instead, she ate her protein bar in silence and wished the seat to her right wasn’t so empty.

As if some higher being commanded it, Lydia ran into Stiles that same day after school.

Lydia kind of had to wonder if there was a legitimate evil cherub/demon that caused them to oh-so-conveniently run into each other, when all that Lydia really wanted was to get some distance from Stiles. At least until she figured everything out.

“Hey, Lydia!” Stiles gave her the brightest, shit-eating grin she could muster.

Lydia raised an eyebrow in suspicion. “Why are you doing that?”

Stiles’ expression faltered. “Doing what?”

“Smiling like that. It’s creepy.”

Her grin returned. “I have a detention with Ms. Anderson. Aiden and Ethan have theirs with Mr. Harris.”

“…And you’re happy about that?”

“Well, considering it’s not with Mr. Harris for once, yeah. I guess I am happy about that. Plus, art teachers are normally pretty nice.”

For some reason, that was one of the saddest things Lydia had ever heard. Maybe it was that Stiles was so accustomed to detentions that she was grateful for any slight improvement. (Mr. Harris was pretty nasty to most people, but everyone knew that he was especially brutal to Stiles) It could have been that Stiles was such a good person that instead of trash talking the person who have her the detention, she called her nice. Like, who even does that?

But deep down, Lydia knew she felt melancholy because, despite being the motivation behind Stiles’ outlash against Ethan, and ultimately the reason for her punishment, Stiles didn’t feel any anger or resentment towards her.

Feeling dizzy with sadness, (and a tiny bit of love) Lydia bet that she could probably stab Stiles with a freaking butcher knife, and Stiles would still forgive her in a heartbeat.

Oh God. She felt the tears blurring her vision, and she made a point of looking down at Stiles’ shoes instead of her face.

“Whoa. Lydia, are you okay? You got kind of…gloomy there…all of a sudden.”

Lydia sighed deeply. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m just sorry that you got in trouble for my sake.”

The gears turned in Stiles’ ADHD-riddled mind. “Oh. Oh! That’s why you were upset? Nah, it’s fine! I get detentions a lot. And I couldn’t just let Mr. Douche Wolf get away with damaging a lady’s honor.”

Stiles attempted to give a curtsy, but her height and lankiness, added onto her just being naturally clumsy, made her stumble mid-curtsy. She tripped, and landed against the lockers, and it was honest to God one of the funniest things Lydia had ever seen.

She let out an un-ladylike snort and immediately clapped her hands over her face to stop the giggles from escaping.

“Oh, I see how it is, just go ahead and laugh at my pain!” Stiles joked, looking up at Lydia with a crooked smile on her face.

Lydia pulled Stiles back into a standing position, but she noticed that their hands stayed intertwined longer than necessary.

Stiles apparently picked up on this as well. She blushed a light crimson that made the beautiful moles on her face pop out. “Uh…well, I better not be detention late--er, late to detention. Wouldn’t be good to get a detention on top of another detention--that would be like a double detention, right? I don’t think that’s legal. Or is that double jeopardy in court that’s illegal? I could just ask my dad…cause he’s all…sheriff-y.”

Realizing that she was rambling like crazy (and totally not cute at all, Lydia told herself) she blushed harder, if at all possible. “Oh. Sorry. I think I forgot my Adderall today.” She flailed her arm and gestured to herself with an embarrassed expression on her face. “Uh…well, I’ll see you tomorrow!” Stiles grinned goofily and waved. When she ran down the hall to her detention, she managed to only trip twice.

3. Aiden

Contrary to what Stiles said, they did not in fact “see each other tomorrow.”

Due to her lack of sleep, plus her big gay panic, Lydia deemed it necessary to stay home and throw herself a pity party.

In her bedroom.

While wearing pajamas and eating a whole box of Cocoa Puffs in one sitting.

At this stage in her body image career, she didn’t really give a shit anymore. She had gone through countless and unspeakable horrors in the past year (one of which happened to be dating a Kanima), and now she was just coming to terms with the fact that she wanted to sex up a certain brown-eyed girl.

Several times.

In many different positions. Ahem.

This was a huge step in the self-discovery process, considering that before this, she had only been attracted to men.

So yeah, Lydia had every right to eat some goddamn Cocoa Puffs if she wanted them!

One empty cereal box later, she slightly regretted it. But only slightly. Mainly because her drawstring pajama pants were now too tight for her to walk downstairs and snatch a container of Oreos.

As an alternative, she wallowed in her misery and flipped through t.v. channels.

Click. Boring. Click. Boring. Click. What the hell is a Duck Dynasty. Click. The Notebook. Click. Wait--

Lydia flipped back to The Notebook and glared at it as if it was the cause of her current problems. The drawback of staring at it for so long was that she unconsciously became sucked into the storyline. Again. Despite having seen it at least five times.

Lydia was slightly disappointed, but not in the least bit shocked, that Ryan Gosling no longer held the same attraction to her as before.

She shoved some Twizzlers into her mouth and pondered Maybe it was Rachel McAdams that I was attracted to all this time. Maybe Ryan Gosling was my secret lesbian girl-crush…beard. Or whatever it’s called.

Depressed that everything she had known to be good and true was actually a sham, she turned off the t.v. and checked her phone.

Her heart missed a beat when she saw four missed calls and eight texts from Stiles…and only one text from Aiden that said “U ok?”

Rolling her eyes at the sheer tactlessness of men, she scrolled through Stiles’ worried texts. Just as she was about to open the two voice mails left by Ms. Stilinski, she got another text from Aiden:

“I stayed home from school, but Ethan txted me and said u weren’t in school. Is everything ok?”

Okay. That made him slightly redeemable.

She slid out her keyboard and responded, “Yes everything is just peachy.”

“Ur Lying. Want me 2 come over?”

She thought it over for a while, then finally texted, “Fine. But no sex.”

“Whatever.”

Twenty minutes later, Aiden’s motorcycle roared into the driveway. Lydia didn’t bother going downstairs to unlock the door because if he wanted in bad enough, he could climb in through the window.

And sure enough, she soon heard the telltale thump of werewolf feet landing on the roof. Lydia huffed in annoyance and leaned over her bed to unlatch the window.

Aiden swung in gracefully, as if he did that sort of thing often (which he kind of did.)

He looked her over and gave a skeptical eyebrow-raise. “What’s up with you? You don’t smell sick. And you don’t really look sick. So why aren’t you in school?”

“You can smell when someone’s sick?”

“Yeah. In case you forgot. Werewolf senses.”

“Oh. Well. No, that isn’t why I stayed home.”

Aiden smirked. “Aw, are you having boy troubles?”

Lydia snorted softly. “Not exactly.”

Aiden sat down on the extra bed space beside Lydia and snatched a handful of Twizzlers from the bag. “Then what’s wrong? You can tell me.”

Lydia turned towards him in disbelief and doubt. “Are you sure that you aren’t playing some identical twin prank on me? Because you’re acting a lot like your sensitive gay brother right now.”

“If I was in fact Ethan, you’d probably punch me in the face for getting paint on you yesterday. You may never know which twin I am,” he winked playfully at her.

Lydia’s mind immediately went to Stiles. She willed her heart to stop pounding so hard, but of course, Aiden picked up on it pretty quickly. Because…werewolf.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you still pissed about yesterday? Because Ethan wasn’t trying to hit you, he was trying to get Isaac. It was kind of stupid of him. Usually I’m the one doing stupid stuff.”

“I know that already,” she muttered, looking down at her blue comforter.

“Plus,” he grinned, “Stiles cleaned you up really well. There’s not a speck of blue left on you.”

She could practically feel her face catch on fire. Why the hell did I agree to him coming over?

“Whoa. Lydia. Did I say something wrong? Is it something to do with Stiles? Did she do something to you?”

She shook her head, but didn’t say anything.

“Lydia.” Aiden tilted her chin so she was forced to look at him. “You’re starting to worry me.”

Lydia kept her eyes squeezed shut, and Oh God.

He can hear my heart beating, he can smell emotions--he’s going to figure it out--

For a few heart-stopping moments, she could sense Aiden inhaling deeply, trying to gauge what was wrong with her.

“Lydia. Do you like Stiles?”

She clenched her jaw and took a shaky breath. Trying to save any morsel of her former reputation and status, she tried explaining, “It depends on what you mean by ‘like.’ If you mean ‘friend like,’ then sure, I like her. We save each other once in a while, and she isn’t always ridiculously annoying. If you mean ‘romantic like,’ then no. Because that’s just stupid--”

Aiden gently squeezed her hand. “You’re lying. I can smell the arousal all over you whenever I mention her.”

Lydia felt like a panic attack was coming on, it was going to consume her. It was all over--the tears finally came, rushing down her face, and she couldn’t stop them.

“It has to be a phase. I must have ingested some magical water or something that made me like this dorky girl, because there is no way in hell that I’m gay.”

She knew right then that everything was ruined, that Aiden was probably going to be so angry that he would tell everyone at school. The empire that she had worked years to achieve would just crumble at her feet.

Only…it kind of didn’t.

“Come here,” Aiden murmured and snugly wrapped his arm around her.

He let her cry into his shoulder for a good five minutes. Then he talked. “You should know that I’ve had a lot of experience with this kind of thing with Ethan. It wasn’t a phase for him, and it isn’t a phase for you either, Lydia.

And you may not turn out to be gay, which is fine. You could be bi or whatever. But you have to take whatever this is seriously, and you can’t treat it like it’s nothing. You’re going to make yourself sick if you keep denying this.”

Lydia sat there flabbergasted, never expecting to ever receive a guidance counselor-esque pep talk from Aiden, who had always been Mr. Avoids-Deep-Conversations-Like-The-Plague.

She sniffed, impressed, yet not quite able to give up her snarky persona. “…Sometimes I really hate you werewolves and your stupid supernatural senses.”

Lydia could feel his lips turning up against the top of her head.

“Actually, I have a confession to make,” he said. “That whole speech I just gave? I stole it from Dr. Phil.”

An uncontrolled laugh escaped her. “You’re an asshole, you know.” She punched him playfully in the arm.

“I know. That’s sort of my job.

So when did this whole thing start?”

“I don’t really know. It seems like it started forever ago. I’ve always felt weird around her, and I always just guessed it was because she was weird, and so out of place.

I guess things really came into perspective when she opened my gift at her birthday party. It was a book that her mom used to read to her…I thought she would be really upset, because she was crying. But then she hugged me and thanked me for it. All at once, it seemed like everything just fell into place. That making her happy would make me happy. I saw how she looked at me, Aiden, and now all I can think about is making her happy again.”

“You know,” Aiden said gently, “that sounds a lot like being in love with somebody.”

Lydia didn’t argue, or try to deny it. She was too tired for that. “Maybe. But I can’t exactly do anything about it. I know she’s liked me for years, but we wouldn’t be able to work. She’s too good, and I would just end up being a bitch to her.”

Aiden pulled her in closer beside him. “I don’t know,” he contemplated. “I don’t think you’re bad for her at all. Both of you are dealing with some crazy shit right now, and you could really benefit from each other. Maybe if you just tone down some of the drama-queen crap, you wouldn’t end up snapping at her as much.”

They sat there for a long time, Aiden holding her while Lydia talked. Despite what Lydia thought, Aiden didn’t judge her, and he wasn’t mad at all. He didn’t even seem too upset that their sex-capades were over for good.

It seemed like only an hour had passed when Aiden looked at the nightstand clock and announced, “Hey, it’s five, I’d better get going. Scott said he needed to talk to me.”

“Why Scott? I thought everybody of the lycanthrope variety hated you and Ethan.”

“I have no idea. He was kind of vague about it. He just said that we needed to work together to catch the Darach.”

He rose from the bed and retrieved his jacked from the back of the chair. Just as he was about to jump from the window, he turned back and gave Lydia a teasing smirk. “You know, if the whole Stiles thing doesn’t work out…these,” gesturing to his abs, “will be waiting for you.”

Lydia took aim and threw a hairbrush at his head, but he was long gone before it hit the wall.

5:30 came around, and Lydia was bored out of her mind. She had eaten everything in sight, there was nothing on the television, and there was nobody available to text...well, except for Stiles. She quickly ruled out that option, though.

Left with no other viable choice, she did what anyone else would do: raid her mother’s alcohol stash. It’s not like her mother would notice it being gone, and Lydia had perfected the art of inconspicuously stealing booze years ago.

Needless to say, not even thirty minutes had passed before she was rip-roaring drunk.

Being drunk wasn’t common for Lydia, but it did happen once in a blue moon. It was a good way to turn her brain off, if just for a little bit. Being a near-genius had its drawbacks, one of which included that your mind never slows down. It’s always going through dozens of different scenarios, a hundred “what if’s,” and to put it simply, it’s exhausting. So for Lydia, drinking was a way to make things less…complicated.

And at that moment, in her current state, the simplest and most uncomplicated decision was to call Stiles.

Her mind was muddled in an inebriated fog, and she acted on the one sole thing, or rather person, that she couldn’t stop thinking about. It was stupid, and she regretted it immediately, but without considering the repercussions, she snatched her bedazzled phone and dialed the other girl’s number. As soon as Stiles picked up, she said, “Come to house after practice. There’s a key out back beside the rose bush.” Lydia was quite proud that she spoke all of that with minimal slurring.

Lydia was immediately answered with the comical sound of Stiles crashing into something. “Seriously? Like for real?”

Lydia tried to huff airily, but it sort of came out like a manly snort. “Yes, for real…dummy.” Then she giggled at her own cleverness and ingenuity.

“Lydia, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m totally wasted, it’s fine.”

“…Okay, Lydia, I’ll be over soon. Stay where you are, okay?” Stiles hung up without waiting for a response.

Along with excessive gas and sleeping like a rock, a side effect of her drunkenness also included general weepiness.

Mind you, in this instance, about 90% of the waterworks were on account of her just having a plain shitty week. As it was said before, the whole “dramatic self-discovery” process was tiring for Lydia, and all she honestly wanted was for her heart to stop going all “Looney Tunes” on her when she saw Stiles. Or talked to Stiles. Or even thought about Stiles.

So to sum it all up, the crying was 90% shitty week, 7% her stupidity in calling Stiles, and 3% upset stomach and nausea. Mainly from the Twizzlers.

She couldn’t find the courage to call Stiles back and forbid her from coming over, so she sat and wallowed for fifteen minutes, attempting to reconstruct some sense of composure.

She was alerted to the other girl’s entrance by loud footsteps stomping up the stairs. After .5 seconds of watching Stiles in her doorway, she had a mini-epiphany that maybe in reality, she was an extremely masochistic person. Maybe she enjoyed being tortured by seeing Stiles in a cut-off tank top and jean shorts with her bright orange earphones in place, hair still messy and sweaty from lacrosse practice.

She must have been a real sight to see because Stiles’ eyebrows instantly shot up in concern. She dropped her bag to the floor and sank down to her knees so she was eye-level with Lydia.  “Lydia, don’t take this the wrong way. I mean, you’re still super beautiful and anything, but you look like total shit.” She gently pushed back one of Lydia’s strawberry blonde strands from her face. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”

Lydia buried her head in the pillow so Stiles wouldn’t see her cry. Poor Stiles had no idea what to do. She had never dealt with a drunk Lydia before (she had seen Lydia on excessive medication before, but that was different), and because Lydia wouldn’t tell her what was bothering her, Stiles couldn’t do anything to help her. She settled with stroking Lydia’s messy hair while she cried.

Thankfully the waterworks died down after a few minutes of Stiles experimenting with singing to her, and telling absolutely terrible jokes. Anything to calm Lydia down.

The room stayed quiet for a few minutes, with the exception of the occasional hiccup. Stiles breathed a sigh of relief and rested her head next to Lydia’s. “So are you gonna tell me what’s up?” she asked softly.

There was a moment of hesitation…until Lydia murmured something incomprehensible into the pillow.

Stiles sat up again in curiosity and said, “What was that?”

Lydia slowly rose from her facedown position on the bed and looked Stiles straight in the eyes, her own glassy and red-rimmed. “I think I’m in love with you.”

The heartbreak on Stiles’ face was…well, heartbreaking. It hurt Stiles so much to hear Lydia say that, since she didn’t mean it. Of course, Lydia did mean it, but Stiles didn’t know that yet. Stiles didn’t know the extent of the other girl’s alcohol consumption, so she just automatically assumed that Lydia was imagining her as someone else (a.k.a. Jackson) like she had before with the pills. She could deal with being constantly reminded that she’d never have a chance with Lydia. However, having Lydia say it was a possibility and then believe it, even for a second, was too much for Stiles.

She forced a smile and said, “You know I’m Stiles, right? Stiles Stilinski? I know you love Jackson, and I’m sorry he’s not here with you anymore.”

(And on a slightly different note, Stiles never understood how, during the first time she visited the Martin’s house, a doped-up Lydia mistook her as Jackson. Seriously, though. Stiles looked absolutely nothing like a buff, angry, teenage boy.)

“I should probably go,” Stiles muttered, looking devastated.

She stood up to leave, but Lydia’s hand grabbed onto Stiles’ shirt. “Please stay with me,” she whispered. Stiles was sad and disappointed, so she didn’t really want to stay. But honestly, she couldn’t deny Lydia anything.

With a soft sigh, Stiles claimed a spot on the bed beside Lydia and resumed stroking her soft hair until she fell asleep.

Among the few things she clearly remembered of that incident, Lydia remembered whispering, “Of course I knew it was you, Stiles. It’s always you” as she drifted into a dreamless sleep.

***

When she woke up, she felt as if she had been hit by a truck. She heard soothing music coming from an identified source, and then her fuzzy brain put the pieces together that Stiles’ iPod earphones were in her ears. And more specifically, she was loosely gripping Stiles’ green iPod.

And…shit. Stiles had been there, and seen her in that embarrassing condition. Lydia squinted and tried to find Stiles, but she was nowhere in sight.

A panicked feeling hit her. No matter how hard she concentrated, she couldn’t remember all of the details of what had occurred with Stiles. What if I said something really stupid and she left?

She unconsciously bit her nails and glanced at the clock: It was 10:30. Her mother would have been home for a while now.

Lydia ripped the earphones out and threw the iPod on the pillow, and then trudged to the bathroom to wash her face and rinse the garbage taste out of her mouth.

She cautiously made her way down the stairs, praying her mom wouldn’t ask about the alcohol…or smell it on her.

Mrs. Martin was seated at the kitchen table, looking at what appeared to be bank statements. When she heard Lydia coming down, she looked up. “Oh, hi, honey-”

Lydia cut her off. “Did you see a girl here? She’s one of my friends.”

Her mom’s eyebrows creased. “Oh…that Stiles girl, right? She was here up until about twenty minutes ago. She told me that you weren’t feeling good, and that you’d been sleeping for the past few hours. Are you doing okay, sweetie?”

Lydia loved her mom, and knew that she genuinely cared, but she wished her mom wasn’t so clueless about everything. She hadn’t even noticed her skipping school that very morning. “Yeah, mom. I’m okay now.” She paused. “But did she say why she only just left? She came over around six.”

“I don’t know, Lydia. She just said she wanted to make sure you were okay. She actually wanted to stay longer, but I told her I’d keep an eye one you. She seems like a nice girl.”

Right on schedule, Lydia’s “You’re-a-terrible-person-and-don’t-deserve-people-like-Stiles-in-your-life” complex struck her like a slap in the face. “Okay. Thanks, mom.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat and hugged her. Of course, Mrs. Martin was shocked, due to the fact that she hadn’t received this type of affection from her daughter in at least two months. She gratefully hugged back, assuming that the worst of Lydia’s problems included GPA’s and boy drama.

Lydia considered, maybe for half a second, telling her mom everything. Perhaps she’d understand completely and give her super-mom advice, and things would be peachy-keen. Maybe her mom had experienced her own lesbian crush back in the day.

But after that half-second had passed, reality came crashing back in, and Lydia realized how stupid that would be. Not that her mom was prejudiced, but if she knew, then her dad would definitely find out, which would spark eons of yelling between her two divorced parents about “Why my daughter never tells me about important events in her life.” This in turn would lead to calls to teachers and school faculty to make sure that Lydia was constantly protected from bigoted bullies and harassment; in other words, the whole situation would be blown way would of proportion, and all Lydia wanted was to keep the situation low-key until she figured things out.

Her confession left unsaid, her mother smiled lovingly at her, kissed her goodnight, and that was that.

When Lydia returned to her room she remembered about the abandoned iPod on her bed. She curiously flipped through the songs, one by one.  Some of Stiles’ musical choices surprised her, and others just made her smile. “She put two entire Tegan and Sara albums on here,” she whispered fondly. “What a lesbian thing to do.”

After some more skipping, she came across one of their songs called “I Was a Fool”. She immediately fell in love with it. She set the song on repeat, settled herself underneath her covers, and drifted to sleep with the soothing melody playing in her ears.

4. Derek Hale

The next morning, Lydia looked down at the iPod and saw it was completely dead. Oops. She’d have to apologize to Stiles for draining the life out of it.

Obviously, she dreaded going to school again, but she knew that she had to suck it up and deal. She couldn’t have anyone thinking she was weak, or hiding from something. Or someone.

At school, she adamantly made a point of avoiding Stiles at all costs. She knew that at some time or another, she would have to return the iPod, but Lydia saw no harm in procrastinating a bit.

She ditched art class on account of a “terrible headache” and she didn’t even step into the lunchroom, instead opting to eat her lunch in the empty chem lab. And when she sat next to Allison in Calculus, she had a hard time ignoring the other girl’s concerned glances that were directed her way.

She had a concise game plan for the end of the day: She would return the iPod at Stiles’ locker, thank her for the previous night, and then be on her way. Well, that was the ideal plan…but of course, because of her shitty luck, she ended up not being able to find Stiles anywhere in the hallway.

Sighing in annoyance, she stomped (in her four-inch heels, mind you) to the lacrosse locker room, as that was the next logical place to look. In retrospect, the very real possibility of walking in on a bunch of half-naked guys (and one girl) should have been given more thought; however, she was a woman on a mission, and she intended to complete said mission so she could finally stop worrying about it.

The locker room was strangely empty when she got there. Guy clothes were thrown everywhere, which proved the team had been there recently…but the actual players were nowhere to be seen. The only person in sight was Greenberg, who gave her a funny look (but didn’t bother saying anything) as he headed up to the field.

With dainty precision, Lydia stepped over a filthy pair of shorts and turned to go down a different set of lockers. If I knew where her locker was, I could just drop it off--

Her monologue was interrupted when she was suddenly face to face with Stiles, who had a Dorito hanging from her mouth, and a shocked expression plastered on her face.

Approximately two seconds later, she made the horrifying realization that, not only were they only a few inches from each other, but that Stiles didn’t have any clothes on. Well, she had her bra and panties of course, but that was it.

In the three to four seconds following that officially marked the beginning of the end, countless thoughts raced through Lydia’s mind as if her life was flashing before her eyes. Some of these little mind gems included:

“Maybe if I prayed more as a child, God wouldn’t hate me so much right now”

“I can’t believe that I ever thought I was completely straight”

and of course, the one that really took the cake:

“Oh my God, she’s wearing a push-up bra.”

Stiles looked too paralyzed to actually try covering up her exposed body, but she did have the decency to blush. Like, a lot. Especially all over her face and chest. Not that Lydia noticed or anything.

“Um,” Lydia choked, “Where’s the rest of the team?”

“Oh, the guys?” Stiles stammered. “You know…they’re already up at the field…doing lacrosse-y things.”

Stiles didn’t elaborate, so Lydia prompted, “Why aren’t you up there with them?”

“Yeah, about that. I was about to head up, and I had my uniform on and everything, but then Coach told me that I was temporarily banned from practice…because of detentions…and my chemistry grade. So now I’m just changing back into my clothes.”

Lydia felt terrible. She knew that Stiles was responsible for making her own stupid decisions, but Lydia still felt strangely responsible for them. “Well, if you wanted to, I could tutor you in chem. I’m pretty much a pro in that class.” She smiled, and felt some of the good ol’ Lydia confidence returning.

Stiles made a funny face. “Whoa, seriously? You’d do that?”

“Of course I would, silly. It’s the least I can do for all of the times you’ve been there for me.”

Stiles’ eyes widened, as if thinking, “Who is this mystic creature, and what has she done with the cold and heartless Lydia Martin?”

They gazed at each other (Lydia of course refused to look at any part of Stiles’ body except her face) and Lydia’s mind blanked as to why she was there in the first place.

And then finally, finally, she remembered.

“I wanted to give this back to you.” She pulled the drained iPod from her pocket. “Sorry, it died after you left last night.”

Stiles’ face lit up. “Nah, that’s okay. Thanks for bringing it back.”

Lydia asked, “Why did you leave it at my house?”

Stiles smiled a little and blushed. “You don’t remember, do you? You were pretty wasted last night. You kept on yanking the earphones out of my ears, and you insisted on going through every single one of my songs.”

Lydia’s face heated up in embarrassment and she muttered an apology.

“No, seriously, it’s fine!” Stiles insisted. “It was actually pretty cute.” As soon as she realized the full meaning of her statement, Stiles’ whole face flushed beet red and she made a weird, strangled noise in the back of her throat.

Wanting to change the subject, Lydia asked, “So are you going to the pack meeting tonight?”

Stiles visibly deflated in relief that Lydia didn’t comment on her verbal slip-up. “Yeah, absolutely! My favorite part of the week is discussing how to kill supernatural predators while surrounded by a bunch of other supernatural predators.” Lydia snorted at the irony of their lives.

Stiles paused. “Are you going?”

Lydia considered it. She wanted to know what was going on in Beacon Hills just as much as everyone else, and she knew that she’d be able to help in some way. After all, she was Lydia freaking Martin, genius extraordinaire. “Yes, I’ll be there.”

Stiles grinned happily. “Awesome. Well…” She glanced down at herself and laughed. “I should probably get dressed now. Can’t be showing off these fun-bags to the whole world.” She groped her breasts for emphasis, and Lydia felt a lovely warmth spread to her belly.

Just as Lydia was about to get out of there before she completely humiliated herself, Coach Finstock walked in on them. (Jesus, Finstock? Really? Could her day get any worse?)

He yelped loudly and quickly shielded his eyes as if seeing a half-nude girl was the most horrific experience of his life. Well, for him, it probably was. “Jesus Christ, Bilinski!” he yelled, refusing to turn towards them. “Get some freaking clothes on before I have to sign myself up for therapy!”

Stiles flailed in alarm and tried to tug her shirt over her head. “Holy crap, sorry Coach--!”

“Okay, whatever you and your girlfriend were doing? I seriously do not want to know. Just do it somewhere else.” Coach turned and hastily walked in the opposite direction.

Stiles literally looked like she was about to shit herself. “Coach, we weren’t doing--” The door to his office slammed shut-- “anything.”

Lydia was absolutely mortified, and she stared at the floor while Stiles wiggled into her jeans.

“I’m really sorry about that,” Stiles whispered. “I had no idea that he’d walk in on us. I’ll talk to him later so he knows that we’re not, you know--”

“Yeah. Sure, you should definitely do that,” Lydia replied, finally looking up at the other girl. If Lydia didn’t know any better, she’d say that Stiles looked disappointed.

“Well,” Lydia sucked in a deep breath, “I should get going. I’ll see you at seven tonight, okay?”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll see you--” Stiles began, but Lydia was already walking away before she could finish.

Well, I can never make eye contact with Coach Finstock ever again, Lydia decided as she climbed into her car. She now regretted ever promising to go to the meeting that evening. She knew for a fact that things would be awkward with Stiles, and she preferred to not have the majority of Beacon Hill’s lycanthrope population catching on to their weird sort-of-but-not-really relationship.

At her house, she killed time by translating old Celtic runes. She wanted to be of use as much as possible, and more importantly, she wanted to keep her mind off of things (specifically, the image of a very exposed and very attractive Stiles in the locker room.)

The drive to Derek’s loft (if you could even call it a loft) was nerve-wracking, to say the least. She had already made the decision to go over an hour early because, (a) as a non-supernatural person, she didn’t want to be out driving while it was dark outside, and (b) she felt like she would be in more control of her situation if she arrived before Stiles. She knew it was stupid and illogical, but there wasn’t much she could do about that. Once again, she noticed that she was biting her nails, which couldn’t be a good sign.

Once there, she hurried up the steps of the housing complex because, hey, everyone knew that stairways were a prime location for violent crimes. She hastily pounded on Derek’s door and looked around to make sure that nothing would pop out and kill her.

Derek apparently liked taking his sweet old time because it was at least a minute before he arrived to let her in. “Lydia.” His eyebrow quirked up.

In return, she gave him her brightest smile. “Hello, Derek.”

He stared at her suspiciously, as if she was harboring concealed weapons or something. “You’re early.”

“I didn’t know that hanging out with a friend was a bad thing.”

“It isn’t a bad thing. Except for the tiny little detail of us not really being friends.”

“Whatever made you think we weren’t friends?”

“It was mainly that one time you used me to bring back my psychotic uncle.”

“Hey, you knew that he was controlling me, so just let bygones be bygones!”

Derek smirked at her knowingly. “Sounds like something Stiles would say.”

Lydia smiled tightly. “Is it?” Rather than continuing that particular conversation, she wove herself between Derek and the door, and stepped into the loft.

But of course, Derek being Derek, who apparently loved being a general dickhead, wouldn’t let the subject drop. “You’ve been avoiding her.”

Lydia didn’t look at him while she set her bag on the table (which was, annoyingly, one of the few pieces of furniture Derek owned.) “I have no idea what you’re talking about. We see each other all the time.”

“Really? Because according to Scott and Isaac, you’ve been making a point of not sitting by her during classes or lunch.

“Well, I’m flattered that you and those two nitwits are so invested in my social life, Derek.”

“No, not your social life. Just your love life.”

Lydia swallowed hard. “What does Stiles have to do with that?”

“Lydia, you’re not fooling anyone. Stiles literally never shuts up about you, and I can smell the arousal on both of you whenever you’re around each other.”

She willed herself to not overreact.  “Why do you care so much about this?”

“Because you’re part of the pack. So is Stiles. And I’m not going to let a bunch of stupid unresolved sexual tension get in the way of your abilities. Right now, everyone has to focus on catching the Darach, and if you and Stiles are too distracted by staring at each other all the time, it’s only going to make you a liability. So both of you need to get your heads out of your asses so you two can return to normal and actually focus on winning this war.”

God, sometimes I really fucking hate werewolves. She glared at him as menacingly as she could. “You know what? Maybe I do like Stiles a lot--”

“Obviously.”

“But it doesn’t even matter. And do you know why? Because I am eventually going to get over it and move on.”

“Lydia, why are you so set on denying it? Nobody cares if you’re--”

“It’s not because she’s a girl. I’ve already accepted that.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“It’s because she was never supposed to be part of the plan!”

Derek looked puzzled. “What plan?”

“I was supposed to marry a rich guy, and go win awards and medals, and raise a family, but now…I don’t know what’s happening. I just can’t get past the fact that I would like her of all people. She’s so completely out of the range of people I normally date, and even if she were a guy…she’d still be the last person I would ever have imagined I’d like.”

“That shouldn’t be an issue, you idiot. You’re going to have to realize that people at your school literally don’t give a shit who you date. They’re all so wrapped up in their own issues that you dating Stiles would be talked about maybe for a couple of days. Take it from someone who has been unlucky with relationships: when you find someone you actually care about, you can’t just pass it up. Especially when it’s Stiles.

And if you’re worried that she doesn’t like you, like I said, that’s not even an issue. Every time I see her, it’s ‘Lydia did this,’ or ‘Lydia styled her hair this way’ and it gets pretty annoying. It actually makes me hate you a little bit.” He smiled at her playfully.

Lydia gasped in realization. “Oh my God, you like Stiles, don’t you?”

Derek put on his best poker face and said in an unconvincing tone, “No. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She knew that she and Derek were totally going to have that conversation sometime in the future, but she decided to let it drop for the time being. She sighed and bit her nails again. “Even if I wanted this to be a real thing, I have no idea how I would bring up the subject with her.”

“Well, you could start by using this amazing technique I use sometimes, called ‘using your words and being honest with the person.’ ”  

Lydia smacked him on the arm. “Stop being so snarky. That’s my job.”

“Seriously, Lydia. Just talk to Stiles and see where it goes from there. Speaking of which…they’re here.”

Lydia’s eyes widened as she tried not to panic. “Aren’t they kind of…early?”

“Yeah, but so were you.”

Right before her friends opened the door, Lydia whispered, “You know, for being a major asshole most of the time, you’re surprisingly nice when you want to be.”

He scowled. “From this point on, nobody knows we had this conversation.” He looked at her seriously. “I can’t have people thinking I’ve gone soft because I’m giving teenagers love advice.”

She snorted and watched as a variety of her friends, and not-really friends entered the apartment.

The evening wasn’t as awkward as Lydia had expected. She and Stiles didn’t talk much, but they did exchange the occasional smile with one another. Stiles and Scott got into a food fight, which prompted Derek to let out his most intimidating growl and yell at them to “quit reducing the IQ's of everyone in the room with your stupidity!”

Immediately after, when Derek skulked off to another room for something, Stiles grinned and nudged Lydia with her elbow, whispering, “I think we upset poor Mr. Grumpywolf.”

During the same time Lydia let out an incredibly loud laugh, Derek shouted, “I heard that, you moron!” which only made Lydia laugh harder.

The rest of the meeting was…nice. They all discussed different strategies, and what everyone could bring to the table. Lydia was happy that people finally saw her intelligence as an asset, rather than something that she should hide.

Everyone started heading home around ten. Scott and Stiles offered to give her a ride home, but she politely declined. Before she left for the night, she walked up to Derek and said in a low voice, “One more thing. I’m really sorry about bringing back Pater. He’s a total dick.”

Derek responded with a soft laugh. “You’re telling me.”

5. Allison Argent

Having Allison as a best friend was…well, the best thing ever. And as Lydia had never really been best friends with anyone before that year, she appreciated Allison all the more, and tried to never take her for granted.

However, having that close-connection soul bond with a friend ultimately means that person knows when something is up. It’s as if an antenna sticks up on his or her head that signals, Whoa, incoming! Alert, alert! Best friend is currently having a huge gay episode, and I must investigate further!

So yeah, Lydia was 100% positive that Allison knew something was different. Even though it wasn’t as blindingly obvious as random appearing antennae, there were still some subtle clues: The worried looks in class, the constant declarations of “We need to hang out and talk more!” and of course, the most inconspicuous instance was a text sent to Lydia two weeks ago, asking, Do you like Stiles? Because it’s totally okay if you do, I was just wondering!

Gah. (In case you were wondering, Lydia acted like she had never received said text message, and subsequently the two of them never spoke about it.) With this in mind, Lydia’s anxiety was understandable when she got a call from Warrior Princess herself, saying, “Hey, Girl’s Night at my place? Dad’s out of town, so we won’t be under constant surveillance.”

“And what exactly will this ‘Girl’s Night’ entail?”

“Well, I thought we could do some research on Celtic history, watch movies…discuss what happened between you and Aiden.”

Lydia groaned loudly. “Really, Allison? People are being used as human sacrifices, and you’re worried about my love life?”

Allison laughed kindly on the other end. “I was just asking! If you don’t want to, we can have Girl’s Night some other time.”

“No, I’ll come over.”

“Great! You can come over anytime after five. See you then!” And with that, she hung up on Lydia.

She let out a huge huff of air, which blew her bangs over to the side.

A few seconds later, her mom opened her bedroom door and peeked in. She looked worried. “Correct me if I’m wrong…but did I overhear you talking to someone about human sacrifices?”

Lydia froze, trying to think of something to say. “Um…Allison and I were…role-playing. You know, it’s like LARPing, only we were doing it over the phone.”

Her mother didn’t look convinced. “What exactly is ‘LARPing?’

“It’s where a bunch of people go out in a field and joust and pretend to battle. I don’t know, it’s like an extreme version of regular roleplaying.”

“I didn’t know you were into role-playing, sweetie. That seems sort of…out of your interest range.”

“Yeah, well, it was Allison’s idea. She’s been pretty weird since the break-up with Scott. I was just trying to be a good friend, and I went along with it.”

“And what did human sacrifices have to do with it?”

“Well, we were pretending we were in medieval times and an evil…Druid…was sacrificing people in order to finish a powerful spell.”

Mrs. Martin looked thoroughly disturbed, and it was probably smart of her that she didn’t question it further. “Okay, honey. Whatever you say.”

Once her mom shut the door, Lydia grinned to herself.Once again, Stiles’ extensive knowledge on nerdy shit has saved the day.

***

Lydia entered Allison’s house with the attitude that she was going to be confident, that she wasn’t going to shy away from any questions, and that she was finally going to be completely honest with herself.

She walked into the other girl’s room. She knew Allison was going to ask, she knew it, she had to prepare for it--

“Hey Lydia, can I ask you something?” Allison looked up from the bed, a worried look on her face.

Lydia took a deep breath, and let it out. “Jesus, yes, I like Stiles, alright? Just shut the hell up, please!”

Allison stared at her for a few seconds. But then her face lit up with a huge grin, which made her adorable dimples pop. “I was going to ask you if you had heard anything about Deucalion or Kali. I already knew about Stiles.”

Lydia’s mouth opened in disbelief. “What do you mean, you knew? You asked me a couple of weeks ago. You may have had a hunch, but you sure as hell didn’t know.”

“How do you know my best friend senses just aren’t really good?”

“They are really good. But I know for a fact that I wasn’t that obvious.”

Allison sighed, still smiling happily. “You’re right. Scott told me.”

“He what?”

Allison held up her hands defensively. “Please don’t be mad at him! He overheard you and Derek talking the other night, and he told me about it afterwards. He didn’t make a big deal out of it, though.”

“Jesus Christ.” Lydia rolled her eyes and dramatically looked up at the ceiling, wondering if her luck had always sucked this much. “I love how literally everyone I know is in the loop about my love life except me.”

Allison got out of her bed and came towards Lydia, who looked at her suspiciously. “What are you doing? You look like you’re going to murder me with sunshine or something.”

Allison grinned and wrapped her arms around Lydia. “It’s called a hug, silly. It’s what people do when they care about someone.”

“Okay, but why are you hugging me?”

“Because I’m proud of you for being so brave and true to yourself. And I’m glad you felt like you could tell me--”

“Technically, I didn’t tell you because I wanted to.”

“Shh…you’re ruining the moment.”

They stood there, Allison holding Lydia, until Lydia finally felt relaxed enough to return the gesture.

Everything that happened after the hug was, to Lydia’s relief, normal. Allison didn’t press any further questions, which truly showed the extent of the respect they had for each other. They spent about three hours researching, and then they called it a night by watching Easy A.

All in all, a great night. However, despite the awesomeness and distraction that Girls’ Night provided for Lydia, she still had one question nagging her that whole evening.

They had been watching the Lobster Shack date scene in their pajamas, tucked under Allison’s bed comforter, when Lydia set down the bowl of popcorn and turned towards Allison. “I know this is kind of out of the blue…but do you know if Scott told Stiles about what Derek and I talked about?”

Allison’s forehead creased in thought. “Hmm…I’m not sure. I doubt he would do something like that, especially since he didn’t ask you about it first.”

“I guess that’s a good thing.” Lydia felt mostly relieved, but she had a hard time ignoring the knot in her stomach that refused to unwind.

Allison must have sensed Lydia’s apprehension, because she gently squeezed her hand and rested her head on the other girl’s shoulder. “Lydia, I don’t mean to freak you out, but I’m a little psychic.”

Lydia laughed gently. “Oh, really.”

“Yes, really. And you should believe me when I say that Stiles is crazy for you, and the only person who is preventing your epic romance from happening…is you.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“All I’m saying is that the moment she knows you like her, everything will be pretty much fall into place.”

Lydia gnawed on her lip for a moment before speaking again. “So what do you think I should do?”

“You need to tell her, Lydia. It doesn’t need to be anything fancy or something out of a romance novel. This is Stiles we’re talking about here. I bet if you bought her a Star Wars mug, she’d marry you on the spot.

The sooner you make a move, the sooner you two can have gross make-out sessions in the back of her car, and hold hands in the grocery store, and actually be happy together… and all you have to do at this point is talk to her.”

+1 Stiles Stilinski

Even though Allison Argent was fantastic at giving advice and Lydia knew she should have listened to her, she didn’t talk to Stiles for a long time about their weird semi-pseudo relationship.

Shortly after their girl’s night, things in Beacon Hills started escalating. Well, more than it usually did. Deucalion started messing serious shit up, Boyd was killed, and Jennifer was revealed to be the Darach. So honestly, Lydia should get some slack for not putting a potential relationship on the top of her “Drastically Important” to-do list.

Even when Deaton suggested that Lydia be the anchor for Stiles during the sacrifice, and Stiles had looked at her hopefully as if she were the Messiah or some shit, she grudgingly refused to look deeper into it for that moment in time. In case it wasn’t obvious, she was well past the denial she had previously gone through. She just simply knew that there was a time and place for most things, and romance happened to be one of those things.

However, as was the natural cycle of things, Beacon Hills eventually settled down for a while. Jennifer was officially dead, and Deucalion was powerless, off doing God knows what. Lydia and her friends were able to return to a semi-normal high school life filled with homework and extracurricular activities.

Which ended up reminding Lydia that she had promised Stiles a tutoring session a few weeks ago. Stiles was still failing chemistry, and Lydia hated the idea of Stiles having to attend summer school.

So one day, after seeing Stiles for about the tenth time, she decided to put on her big girl pants and gather the courage to go and talk to her.

She had mentally prepared a very scientific and logical explanation as to why Stiles should accept her help, and she ran it all through her head one final time as she walked up to the other girl.

Stiles noticed her, and turned to face her with a bubbly grin on her face.

And…Lydia froze. Completely. Everything in her mind suddenly disappeared, whoosh, gone.

Oh no. She was totally not prepared for this level of cuteness up close. Especially Stiles’ moles.

Anything but the moles.

She stared at Stiles with an open mouth for a few seconds. Finally, all that came out was, “You. Chemistry. My place?”

Stiles stared at her for a moment as if she had just sprouted horns on top of her head. Then she just snorted. “Yeah, sure. That’d be great.”

Lydia put on that weird smile she got whenever things went surprisingly well, and put a hand on her hip. “Good. Be there at seven.” She started walking away, but then she remembered something important, and turned back. “Oh, and one more thing? Bring your iPod.”

***

“Okay, can you explain to me again what the Aufbau principle is?”

Lydia smiled at Stiles patiently. “Basically, you just use it to figure out the electron configuration of an atom.”

Stiles stared down at her homework paper with creased eyebrows. But then after a few seconds, she appeared to have a light bulb moment, and yelled, “Oh! I get it now. That totally makes sense.” She looked up and grinned at Lydia as if understanding basic chemistry was the proudest achievement in her life.

Lydia also felt proud of this little accomplishment, and she couldn’t help the warm feeling that ballooned inside of her chest.

Stiles looked down at the time on her phone and asked, “Hey, is it okay if we get something to eat? I’m starving.”

“Yeah, sure.” Lydia went downstairs and brought back an assortment of diabetes-inducing food: Twizzlers, Doritos, cookies, and chocolate kisses, to be precise.

When Stiles set eyes on it, she gasped in wonder. “Whoa,” she breathed. “Lydia Martin, health-nut extraordinaire, willing to eat all of this junk food with me. I’m so flattered. Seriously.”

Lydia whacked her with a Twizzler. “Shut up. You can eat and study at the same time.”

Stiles groaned in mock agony. “You’re killing me here, woman! My brain has been on chem-overload for the past hour, and yet you still want me to study. Hast thou no mercy?”

Lydia giggled. “Very funny. Fine, you can take a break. But I’m timing you.”

“Good, because I’m a notoriously fast eater,” Stiles teased.

They sat comfortably together, and ate the junk food in silence. Lydia of course went for the Twizzlers while she looked at notes, and Stiles assaulted the chocolate kisses, scattering the tin wrappers all over the bed. Stiles then took a minute to hook up her iPod to Lydia’s iPod dock, and turned it to some quiet song that Lydia had never heard before.

Four or five minutes had most likely passed when Lydia heard Stiles take a deep breath and ask, “Do you remember a few weeks ago when I went over to your house and you were drunk?”

She paused nervously. “No, Stiles, I have no recollection of that horrifyingly embarrassing incident.”

Stiles ignored the sarcasm. “Well, you said something to me while I was there. I feel weird asking about it, and you probably don’t even remember it…but I can’t stop thinking about it.

You said you were in love with me, Lydia. Is that true?”

Lydia’s mouth went dry. A small part of her brain told her that she should just scoff at Stiles and completely deny it. The bigger, more mature part of her knew that taking a chance might just turn out to be the best decision she’s ever made. Risk and Reward, as Coach would say.

She worked up the courage to look the other girl in the face. “Stiles,” she started shakily. Then she noticed something. There was a tiny smudge of chocolate on the corner of Stiles’ mouth. An idea came to her.

She moved across the bed so she was closer. “You have some…” Lydia gestured to her own face, then to Stiles’. Stiles’ face was puzzled. “Some what?” She seemed hurt that the conversation had seemingly been pushed aside.

A beam of courage shot through Lydia. Taking a calming breath, she reached across and slowly wiped the chocolate off with her thumb, all the while cradling Stiles’ face with her other hand. She watched the way that Stiles’ face flushed and eyes fluttered shut; then, without taking the time to hesitate, Lydia kissed her slow on the mouth. She kissed her nose, her temples, her ears, any part that Lydia thought deserved her attention.

Stiles was completely wrecked; she stayed completely still during this, only giving the occasional gasp or content sigh. Lydia tipped back the other girl’s head and pressed kisses against her jawline, while simultaneously stroking the back of her neck so lightly that she could feel goosebumps pop up.

It could have been five minutes, or an hour that passed. She resumed kissing Stiles’ beautiful mouth, and was surprised that she wasn’t bored like she usually was when past boyfriends kissed her. Huh.

Lydia felt Stiles’ lips trembling against her own, and she finally pulled back. She made eye contact with Stiles and saw that her pupils were blown wide.

Lydia caressed her face and murmured, “Was that ‘yes’ enough for you, Stiles?”

Stiles beamed happily and kissed her back, all the while pushing her back onto the bed.

***

Two days later, after they had made out in various and secret locations enough times to put Scott and Allison to shame, Stiles tracked down Lydia before homeroom started.

Lydia instantly noticed the nervous energy radiating from Stiles, which was made obvious by Stiles looking down at the floor instead of her. Lydia’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. She knew that look. She knew it way too well.

“Stiles, what did you do this time?” she said exasperatedly. “Is it something involving detention caused by provoking certain supernatural creatures? In particular, the twin or blond and curly-haired dork variety?”

Stiles looked up at her anxiously and blurted, “I kinda told my dad about us last night? And long story short, he wants you to come over for dinner tonight, if you’re up to it. I mean, you totally don’t have to, because I know that’s kind of a huge step, and I’d understand if you weren’t ready for that yet, and--”

Lydia quickly silenced her with a reassuring kiss. She laced their fingers together and gave her a genuine smile. “Stiles, honestly? I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”