Chapter Text
It all started with Lydia arguing over the phone.
The entire talk sounded like she was talking to the research department of a university, but when Stiles asked her about the person on the other end of the line, Lydia shrugged curtly and said, “it was just my cousin”. She refused to share anything else about her mysterious relative who we haven’t heard of before. For some reason I was unreasonably curious about this stranger.
Eventually, however, I forgot about her.
The next time I was reminded of her existence was when Lydia announced she was going to spend less time with the pack due to a family visit. I didn’t want to prevent that at all, but on the other hand, I wanted to at least see Lydia’s cousin. I honestly had no idea what was with me. Lydia’s matter-of-fact nature tended to irritate me, her outspokenness and stinging comments bothered me most of the time because they were tinted with what seemed to be arrogance pouring off of her.
One day, Stiles and Scott needed a ride, and Stiles insisted we stopped by the Martin residence for some reason which he swore was school-related. I wasn’t intend to argue with him at all, so I killed the engine without a word.
“Hey, Lydia,” said Stiles after having called the girl. I could hear her sigh over the speakers.
“What is it, Stiles?” Her tone was exhausted, but not because of any physical activity, more because Stiles called her. “I told you not to ask anything in the next few days, because I’m busy.”
“I know,” he hedged, flailing his hands. I rolled my eyes. “But you’re the only one who can speak Ancient Latin.”
There was silence over the phone, then Lydia ended the call. I glared at him—I knew he was lying to me. He dismissed me with a wave of hand.
In a few minutes, a shape appeared on the field, and it headed towards my Camaro. I rolled the window down, not at all bothering to shoot a smile at her; I could smell she was furious. By the time Lydia arrived, Stiles had already fished out the papers from his backpack. Lydia put her hands on her hips, her lips pursed.
“Here,” he said, handing over the stack of papers. Lydia shot him a glare, then averted her eyes to roam them over the lines. For the time being, I inhaled through my nose to smell her. As her scent hit me, I had to turn away from her and close my eyes to make sure no one noticed that my eyes flashed and my nostrils flared.
When I looked at Lydia again, she was fixing me with an arched brow, but was graceful enough not to call me out on it. She nodded, and clutched the papers to her chest.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll send you over the translation someday,” she promised, then looked among us. “Anything else?”
“Yeah,” said Stiles. “Is your cousin home?” Lydia rolled her eyes.
“Bye guys,” she turned and walked back to the Martin mansion.
. o O o .
We first got to meet Lydia’s mysterious relative two days later, when we arranged a meeting at our favourite café. Turned out, she disguised the translation as school notes.
Of course, it was on me to drive Stiles and Scott there, and by the time we arrived, the two Martin girls had already been sitting at a table by the window.
Then it hit me.
The intensity of her scent was overwhelming now, not nearly as decent when I smelled it on Lydia. My wolf howled. The net thing I knew was that she’d stood up and Lydia was introducing her to us.
“Guys, this is my cousin, (Y/N),” she gestured towards her, then moved her hand in our general direction. “These are Scott, Stiles, and Derek, respectively.” I wasn’t even over the shock her scent gave me when I realized I had to take her hand for a shake and she was suddenly leaning in to give me a kiss on the cheek, like she’d just done it with the other two. This is a Europian habit, or so I’ve heard.
I felt incredibly awkward as we sank into our seats.
“So,” began Stiles. “How come you brought your cousin, too?”
Lydia arched a brow, slowly, intimidatingly.
“You have a problem with it, maybe?”
Stiles immediately began his trademark flailing.
“No, of course not! I just… wasn’t expecting it.”
“Expecting what?” Lydia asked. “Meeting (Y/N)?”
“Yeah, kinda,” he said, nodding. Even after this incident, I caught Stiles stealing glances over at (Y/N) occasionally. For some reason, it made my wolf rouge, and chased me into vicious rage. I had no idea what was up with me.
However, when I noticed (Y/N) blinking away the moment our gazes connected, modest blush spreading over her face, my emotions settled by a notch. I sipped on the coffee I’d ordered in satisfaction over the reaction I’d gotten from her.
Despite I wanted so desperately to talk to her, I refrained from doing so in fear of Lydia.
“It’s just school related,” Lydia explained when (Y/N) shot her a questioning look. “It was important, because these two,” she said, looking between Scott and Stiles, “would die without my help.” I could pick up on the lie, but it was inevitable; besides, Scott could really use some help, but Stiles wasn’t helpless at all.
“So… how come you brought (Y/N) with you?” asked Scott, only to earn a murderous look from Lydia.
“I told you I was going to be occupied the next few days, but obviously you two needed something and came to me.” Her words were sharp and meant to cut through Scott’s neck. If it wasn’t enough, she added, “Is she bothering you, maybe?” she asked, practically daring him to answer ‘yes’.
Scott closed his mouth so fast his jaw clicked against his skull. With pursed lips and wide eyes, he shook his head.
“Good,” Lydia said, then sipped on her moccachino, as though establishing her victory. There was a faint smile playing at the corners of (Y/N)’s lips, which she tried to hide by raising her cup up to her mouth. Mine twitched up too, but I ducked my head and squeezed my chin close to my chest, subtly.
“Where do you live, (Y/N)?” asked Stiles out of the blue.
“Washington,” she answered. My throat went tight at that piece of information.
“Are you attending tertiary education, or are you still a high school student?”
“College,” she said. It meant she was older than Lydia and the boys.
“What is your major there?” continued Scott.
“Chemistry,” (Y/N) said with a barely-there glee in her tone. I assumed it was for appearance and to make sure she looked contained and coolly elegant, just like a Martin.
Lydia’s lips quivered as she suppressed a smile which I assumed would have been satisfied if it weren’t for her sophistication.
“Lydia’s going to learn Cosmology,” Scott pointed out, but (Y/N) just nodded.
“I know, she told me,” she said. It should have been obvious to Scott, too. “In fact, I’m taking Cosmology classes as well. We usually converse about thermodynamics and time loops.”
“And dimensions,” Lydia added matter-of-factly. They talked about these insane topics as though they were casual subjects everyone discusses everyday. I had to remind myself to close my jaw.
“Jesus,” Scott whines. “Now I’m reminded again how ignorant I really am.”
“Aren’t you always?” Lydia cooed kindly, like she was talking to a young child, all the while managing to be mocking. I had to suppress my smile—Scott was indeed infantile.
Stiles was staring at the two Martin girls in awe, so I had to kick him under the table to drag him out of his daydreaming.
“Dude!” he exclaimed in an accusatory tone, and shot a glare at me. When the others looked at me too, I shook my head and shrugged, conveying without words I had nothing to say. (Y/N)’s eyes lingered on me just a touch longer than they were supposed to.
“And how do you like Chemistry?” I asked (Y/N) only for her eyes to settle on my face again. She blushed, soft pink blossoming on both of her cheeks, making them rosy.
“I like it a lot,” she said genuinely. “Organic Chemistry classes are the best.” Scott looked at her like she was an extraterrestrial.
“Why Chemistry, though?” I continued asking her. I hoped my honest curiosity wasn’t as prominent as I felt it to be.
“I was dwelling between medical doctor and chemist, and in the end settled with the latter. Learning about the human body remained a hobby to me.”
“Let me guess,” Stiles interjected. “You take Anatomy classes, too.”
(Y/N) nodded, and I found myself being fascinated—I hadn’t met anyone, excluding Lydia, who was so invested in sciences.
“Can you tell me an interesting fact?” Stiles asked immediately.
“Like what?” asked back (Y/N) right away, taking a sip from her cappucchino. Stiles shrugged.
“About the human body. Anything,” he said, then looked at (Y/N) with expectant, curiously sparkling eyes. (Y/N) took a deep breath, apparently fishing for a random fact to tell from the top of her head.
“Okay, how about this,” she started. “If you hit someone hard enough on their neck somewhere here,” (Y/N) brushed her long strands of hair from her neck to reveal her skin while talking, making my wolf vicious. She tapped the tips of her index and middle finger to her neck, indicating said spot, “they are going to die of a heart attack.” Stiles fell silent and stared at her in awe.
“Wow,” Scott supplied intelligently. “Why?”
“Because the X. cranial nerve, or the nervus vagus, is there, and it has a direct connection to your aorta and heart.” While (Y/N) was talking, I found both the boys and myself listening to her in daze. “So when you hit that spot, the individual is going to die, no matter what.”
“This is…” Stiles began, but failed to finish his sentence.
“Awesome,” Scott offered. “Rather interesting, but… wow.” (Y/N) grinned.
“I know,” she said with a nod. “That’s why I learn it.”
“You want to go there too, Lyds?” Stiles turned to her.
“Probably,” she said, but didn’t add anything else.
“You’re taking AP Biology with me, though,” Scott pointed out. “I kinda figured.” Lydia smiled a wicked-looking half smile.
“I’m taking AP Chemistry as well, just for your information,” Lydia commented. I found Stiles staring. “I’m still thinking about Astrophysics, so I decided to take AP Physics, too.”
“To work with NASA?” I asked, paranoid that I showed too much curiosity towards (Y/N).
“Maybe,” Lydia gave her vague answer, grinning. I took that as a cue and just succumbed to her with a curt nod. When I averted my gaze, I noticed a book peeking out of (Y/N)’s bag. I cocked my head a bit to get a better look at it. I immediately recognized the author—Stephen W. Hawking. Apparently I’d been watching for too long, too obviously, because (Y/N) recognized me looking at it.
“It’s just Hawking’s dissertation,” she said as though everyone was walking around with such books in their bags.
“What is it about?” Stiles asked, craning his neck to try and take a look at said dissertation, leaning forward a bit.