You Should Come With a Warning - PAKfiction (2024)

Chapter 1: Chapter One

Chapter Text

“My parents warned me
about the drugs in the street,
but never ones with golden
eyes, a smirk and a heartbeat’’.

Lydia Martin groaned out loud, slamming her textbook shut before throwing it off of her small bed altogether. It hit the floor with a dull thump, mimicking the sound her head made as she dropped it onto her pillow.

It was almost one in the morning on Friday night. In the college dorms of Princeton, that meant several parties, freshmen thinking they were DJ’s and disturbing sounds that Lydia didn’t care to think about.

Her room was still bare, her belongings in boxes and suitcases piled at the bottom of her bed. She had barely had time to pull out her favourite pillow before making her bed, inspecting the thin mattress with wary eyes.

It had turned eleven when she flopped down with a nutrition bar and a textbook for her Ancient Languages class that started on Monday. The thin, white walls did nothing to diffuse the noises that came from every side of her, even above and below.

The girl sighed again as someone ran down the hall outside her room, yelling at someone for stealing their keg.
She glanced over with sad eyes at the currently vacant bed to her right. Allison Argent, her best friend and soon to be roommate wasn’t due to arrive until tomorrow evening. Her father had decided to take her on an impromptu road trip before her freshman year started. The two of them travelling from Beacon Hills, California and across the states until they reached New Jersey.

Lydia had received countless picture messages of her best friend; her arms spread wide in front of the grand canyon and grinning at the camera in crowds of Times Square.

The strawberry blonde was ridiculously jealous. Her mother hadn’t even batted an eyelid as her only daughter packed up her life and moved across the country. Natalie Martin had become invested in her country club membership after her estranged husband had left her. Now, Lydia’s mother prowled the golfing greens in search of a man half her age and biceps bigger than Lydia’s IQ.

With Allison still gallivanting somewhere near Long Island, Lydia was alone in an unknown state. She had Danny, of course, the third member of their concrete friendship. He had squeezed between the two girls during History class in their sophom*ore year in High School. The boy had grinned charmingly, and then demanded to know if Lydia’s strawberry blonde locks were her natural colour.

Since then, the three of them did everything together.

But unfortunately, her favourite guy was half way across campus in another student hall. According to his earlier text messages, it was too quiet for him and nothing interested happened. Lydia had scoffed at his complaints, wondering if they should swap rooms.

Co-Ed living was not everyone’s cup of tea. Another bang from the room next door made Lydia startle, yells and curses floating to her not so peaceful new home.

She let out a low moan before throwing her long legs to the floor. The threadbare carpet doing nothing to cushion her footsteps as she marched to her open suitcase. Rummaging through it, grabbed her toiletry bag, chucking it onto her bed and frowning when it bounced off and landed on the floor. The girl grabbed a pair of cotton shorts from the top of her clothing pile, wriggling her hips as she pulled them up her legs. She chose to ignore the fact that her “Vote for Pedro” shirt fell to the tops of her thighs anyway.

Struggling with her long curls, she swore under her breath, trying in vain to cram the messy waves into a bun that sat high on her head.

Face void of make up, she picked up her bag and opened the door with eyes squeezed shut. She half expected to find the hallway on fire and people swinging from the lampshades.

She noted with surprise that the long corridor was empty, if not a little cold. The noises only coming from behind the closed doors that lined the passageway. Looking down at her mismatched socks, she grimaced - but after a quick glance behind her shoulder to mammoth pile of clothes in her suitcase - she ventured outside.

Different songs and beats swan from behind the closed doors, mixing together to create a noise that Lydia wasn’t accustomed to. She wasn’t a party animal - and she was sure that even if Danny and Allison were with her tonight, she would still whine about the crowds of strangers as they tried to drag her from her books.

When a door handle rattled behind her, Lydia yelped and did a little run on the tips of her toes. Disappearing round the corner, she tried to avoid running into anyone as her hair bounced on the top of her head. Stray waves fell into her eyes that she grunted at, tucking them behind her ear only for them to fall back to her cheeks.

As the doors to the rooms finally spread out, Lydia relaxed a little, her hands loosening their grip on her bag as she followed the signs to the bathroom facilities.

Because what normal college freshman took a shower at one am on a Friday night? She was hoping only her.

Peace, quiet and hot running water was what she needed to soothe her tense muscles and clear her head. If she was back home, Allison and Danny would be sitting next to her in the twenty four hour diner, sharing a monster sundae.

‘Allison better get her ass here quick’, the girl thought, pushing open the large oak door that said ‘female’.

Steam and heat enveloped her, the tiles warming her toes in a way that made her feel instantly better. The lights were dimmer than out in the hall and Lydia sighed. A small smile tugged at her lips for the first time since she arrived yesterday.

She navigated the large room easily, finding a bench in the middle of it that she set her bag down on. Shower cubicles lined the walls, each one gloriously empty. It wasn’t until the girl reached for the hem of her shirt that she realised she hadn’t picked up a towel.

“sh*t’’, she muttered, turning around to exit through the door, wondering if she would catch a break tonight. The chances of not meeting any one in the long corridor during a second trip seemed slim. The girl was too busy rubbing her eye to notice the body in front of her. Extremely preoccupied with fixing her goddamn contact lenses, Lydia walked straight into that person. Her hands flew up to catch herself as she yelped at the contact.

“Jesus f*ck!’’

Her hands found their grip on a hard chest. A wet, naked chest - that belonged to a tall boy who was peering down at her with raised eyebrows.

“You’ve got some mouth on you’’, he commented with amusem*nt. His eyes sparkled as he held onto her forearms, stopping her from falling backwards onto the hard floor.

Lydia started up at the stranger in complete horror, her hands still flat against his chest. Her gaze travelled from the white towel wrapped around his waist up to his broad shoulders which were still glistening with water. His hair was a damp mess, almost black in contrast to his slightly tanned skin. Moles dotted his cheeks in a way that Lydia found shamefully adorable.

The constellation of freckles continued down his body and she would have seen that if she had cared to look - but she became mesmerized by this boy’s eyes.

God - his eyes - were framed with longest, thickest lashes she had ever seen on a male. They fanned across chocolate eyes that hide golden caramel specks in them. The shone playfully, even in the dim light, and they were currently running across her body.

She jumped backwards, her hands leaving his skin as his own pair dropped from her arms. She flushed furiously, the steam from the warm water still swirling in the air as watched the boy grin wolfishly at her.

“Isn’t this thegirl’sbathroom?’’ Lydia managed to squeak.

The girl cursed herself out in her head, only growing more pink as her voice came out too high pitched and nervous sounding. The stranger took a step forward and the towel that hung dangerously low on his waist did nothing to hide the muscles that tightened with each movement.

Lydia felt dangerously close to passing out. Perspiration and heat clung to her skin, leaving a soft sheen to it and making her stray curls cling to her neck.

The boy chuckled at the small girl in front of him, watching how she grew more pink as the situation prolonged. She was hot, he thought. Definitely smaller than any other girls he had dated, but her long legs went on for days, disappearing beneath a shirt that was far too large for her.

Was she wearing anything underneath that?

His eyes raked over her, taking in her own wide eyes and stupidly long eyelashes. She didn’t look like she was wearing make up. He took a step forward, noting how she took a quick step back at his advance.

The boy paused, raising his hands slightly in a gesture that he hoped conveyed that he wasn’t here to scare her. The girl bit down on her full bottom lip, a feature that along with her flaming hair, he hadn’t been able to stop staring at. Yeah, she was definitely gorgeous.

“Indeed it is’’, he gave her what he hoped was his most charming smile, “Sorry that I scared you but -’’

“What the hell are you doing in here then?!’’ Lydia pulled herself up to her full height of five foot three, holding out her hands in a silent question as she stared at the boy. Her green eyes were wide and waiting impatiently for his response.

The boy’s lips fell into an ‘O’ shape, his eyebrows raised as the once timid girl in front of him turned into a little ball of fury. He crossed his arms over his chest, letting a smirk fall onto his lips as he caught her gaze flicking to the muscles that twisted over his forearms and shoulders.

Lydia blushed when she realised the boy had caught her checking him out. His lips lifted into a lazy one sided smirk that she instantly hated.

“Well?’’ She demanded.

Lydia watched the boy grin, walking around her to pick up a pile of clothes that she hadn’t seen when she arrived. Her eyes narrowed as she followed his movements, keeping a wide distance from him. He stayed silent until he was only a foot away from her and Lydia had to hold in the gasp she wanted to release.

He was taller than she thought, her head only meeting his shoulders.

He gazed down at her in amusem*nt, his eyes flashing dangerously as they met her own, his pouty lips parted and he then said the last words she expected to hear.

“I had a date’’, he flashed white teeth at her, suddenly resembling the big, bad wolf that her Grandmother warned her about as a child.

“A date?’’, Lydia sputtered, “You had a date, in the girl’s bathroom?’’

The boy sighed dramatically, his gaze dropping to the floor where he eyed her mismatched socks with quirked lips.

“Cute’’, he told her with a wink.

Lydia blushed harder, if that were possible. This boy was infuriating, he was too confident, too close and still far too undressed. Her toes curled under his inspection.

He brushed past her again, this time letting his arm graze her own and making her flinch. He let himself drop to the bench, throwing a towel over his head as he rubbed furiously, drying off in a way that Lydia thought resembled a dog.

“You haven’t answered me’’, she told him, her voice deadpanned and tired. She just wanted a shower, was he leaving soon?

The boy laughed a deep, full chuckle from under the towel and when he emerged his hair looked softer and fluffy, standing on end and making him look younger. His eyes turned golden when he looked up at her.

“Well, I was supposed to have a date but she got side tracked at the library -’’, he began to explain, as if this conversation was a normal occurrence for him. Lydia was beginning to think it possibly was.

“A date in the girl’s bathroom, yes?’’ Lydia cut in with raised eyebrows, her skin still too warm. She was dying to peel her clothes off and step under the jets of water, the day had been long and the night was seeming to drag on further. But she couldn’t bring herself to walk away from this boy.

“I guess you could call it more of a two hour bathing session than a date’’, he did that stupid, half smirk with his lips again and Lydia groaned in disgust.

Well look at that, she could walk away. The girl grabbed her bag with disgust on her features and moved towards the door, rolling her eyes as the stranger chuckled at her reaction. Before she could maneuver across the damp tiles and back into the corridor that she now deemed safer than the bathroom, he called out.

“Hey, what’s your name?’’ He yelled, laughter still in his voice. It made him sound less intimidating, his voice turned to honey.

Lydia spun round with one eyebrow arched, her arms crossing tightly across her chest. His gaze dropped there and she glared at him, becoming more agitated as he merely grinned at being caught.

“Why should I tell you my name?’’ Her voice was haughty and she knew she was being a bitch. But Lydia was tired and this boy was clearly not a friend she intended to gain.

“Because, when I was going to ask you if you wanted to join me in the shower instead… I thought it would sound rude if I said, ‘hey, freshman’…’’ The boy stood up, his lean body becoming a distraction that Lydia loathed.

Her mouth fell into a ‘O’ shape, her jaw becoming slack before she picked it back up and stormed back into the centre of the room.

The stranger’s eyes glinted and grin stretched across his face. He liked this girl, this little firecracker that clearly wasn’t as shy as she first seemed. Her cheeks were an adorable shade of pink and he wondered how she would look spread out on his bed like that. Her underneath him with messy auburn hair and full, pouty lips parted and waiting for him.

He cleared his throat and dropped his hands in front of his crotch, hoping she wouldn’t see the obvious arousal he was trying to hide under the flimsy towel.

“Are you sh*tting me?’’ Lydia was near yelling now, her hair falling out in messy waves around her face as she moved with frantic hand movements. Her finger prodding this strange boy’s shoulder angrily.

He had to bite down on his lips to keep from laughing.

“I did not spend four years of high school fighting for a class on feminism and women’s rights to be accosted by a college frat boy in myOWN GENDER’Sbathroom. I took down our principle at fifteen! Let me tell you now, I will f*ckingdestroyanyone who thinks that because they have dick they can say and do what they want. I mean seriously, does that line usually work for you? Cause let me tell you right now -’’

The boy grabbed the hand that was still poking at his chest angrily. He raised his eyebrows as her words fell short and she sucked in a breath. His lips tilted into a small smile that he quickly hid, her hands were tiny in his own, but by god his chest was sore.

“I was just kidding. Easy Kitten’’, he flashed those dangerous looking teeth at her again, his warm eyes now softer and less teasing than before. “But that was impressive, I’ll give you that’’.

Lydia stammered, still blushing and not entirely trusting of his admission. He was still too close to her and holding her hand in his own. His palms were rough and it covered her own completely. Warmth radiated from his body, leaking into her own as the sweet smelling air from his body wash swirled around her.

“Kitten?!’’ Lydia bit out, snatching her hand back from his warm hold. Who did this guy think he was?

He grinned despite the obvious annoyance and offense on her pretty features. Her emerald coloured eyes seemed darker than before, a sign of her rage. He liked it.

“I was going to go with tiger, but you’re so small and adorable…’’

“I am not adorable!’’ Lydia was close to huffing and she had the undeniable urge to stamp her foot in protest - something she hadn’t done since she was at least four.

The boy grinned smugly as the girl in front of him tried so hard to restrain herself from stomping her little foot. He saw it twitch and her lips were turned into a full on pout. He wanted to kiss it off of her.

Lydia watched as the boy’s eyes met her own before dropping to her lips and back again. She couldn’t help the way her breath stuttered. He bit his lip to contain his smile, it was as if he knew what he was doing to her, what he was making her feel.

This boy made her blood boil.

Completely done with the situation and this stranger, Lydia turned on her heel, grabbing her bag and fleeing the too warm room. She doubted she would ever return to that bathroom now. As she reached the door, she was already mentally planning the time it would take to walk to Danny’s dorm and use his shower.

Lydia was pulled out of her thoughts by the boy who was still standing by the benches, his hands curling around his towel.

“I’m Stiles, by the way!’’

He bid her farewell with a wink that went straight to the juncture at her thighs, making her feel weak. It was the warm room, the steam, the heat; she told herself.

As the door swung behind her and the cold air of the hall hit her with a sharp slap, she realised her mouth was still hanging open and the boy was heard chuckling inside.

Chapter 2: Chapter Two

Chapter Text

“Your words are razors,
but your lips are the
colour of roses’’.

“Allison, I’m telling you he was the most infuriating person I’ve ever met in my life!’’

Lydia was sitting cross legged on her bed, her quilt wrapped around her strawberry blonde head as she wailed at her friend.
Allison was simply smirking at her, folding her clothes into neat piles and placing them into their shared wardrobe.

The brunette had arrived an hour ago, sunkissed and happy as she stepped out the car she had spent weeks in. She had stood at the curb, looking up at the tall, ivy covered building of Princeton. Her father had helped her to her dorm room with her luggage, smiling at his daughter’s excitement as they counted the door numbers down the long, busy corridor.

Lydia had almost knocked Allison off of her feet as she opened the door with slight hesitation. Upon seeing her best friend, she had shrieked with happiness; pushing the suitcase out of the girl’s hand and throwing herself at her. They had clung to each other, overwhelmed with excitement after missing each other for over a month.
Chris Argent had smiled good naturedly, pushing past the squealing females as he set down the heavy boxes of his daughter’s belongings. He had stayed for a little while, catching up with Lydia and asking her how her parents were.
Before he left to start the long journey back to California, he hugged his little girl tightly, telling her to be good and do better. He ruffled Lydia’s hair, making the two girls promise to always look out for each other.
With a wave, he left and then, they were on their own.

“Lydia you literally spent fifteen minutes with this guy. And from the sounds of things, you spent the majority of your time staring at his abs’’, Allison smothered a laugh when she seen her friend’s mouth fall open. Lydia was wearing an expression of total indignation.

“I did not!”

Allison turned back to the pinboard above their shared desk. The long, white table stretched across one wall that provided enough room for both of their laptops, as well as plenty room to study. She stuck her favourite photo of the two of them in the middle, smiling back at their happy faces that had Beacon Hills lake behind them.
Danny had taken it last summer and they both posed for the camera. Their tanned arms were wound around each other and the multi coloured bikini tops they wore clashed horribly.

The brunette grinned upon hearing Lydia scramble off of the bed and march across the room until she was standing beside her. Allison rolled her eyes at her friend, reached past her to grab more Polaroids that she arranged around the other pictures.
Her school books were already stacked in neat piles beside Lydia’s in their bookshelf. Lydia was truly glad she was sharing a dorm with Allison. Their little room already looked like home. With each half of it resembling the bedrooms that the girl’s both knew so well from back in California, Lydia was becoming comfortable there.

“Lydia, you spent four minutes staring at me all glassy eyed as you described the way the water clung to his chest’’, Allison let out a laugh as she spoke. Turning round, she grinned as Lydia turned pink and threw herself back onto her bed. The springs squeaked in protest and they only groaned further as Allison flopped down beside her.

Lydia huffed good naturedly before squirming over on the mattress, allowing her friend room to lie comfortably. Her back pressed against the cool wall and she shivered. She seemed to be constantly cold in this building. The lack of Californian sun wasn’t doing her good.

“So, how was your trip? I need the bullet points from at least the last five days, you got cut off when you called on Monday’’, Lydia pouted.

A wide smile spread across Allison’s face a the mention of her mini holiday and Lydia sighed in relief, grateful that the conversation topic had changed.
The brunette curled closer, her unpacking currently abandoned as she rested her head on her friend’s shoulder.

“Well, remember that guy I told you about? The one I met in LA?’’ The girl flushed pink, a sure sign of some interesting news to come.

Lydia raised her eyebrows at her friend’s gleeful expression, turning onto her side to face her fully face her and hear the story. She blew one of Allison’s brunette waves out of her face and nodded.

“So we bumped into each other at that cafe yeah? He was so cute and let me skip ahead of him in the queue. My dad was waiting for me in the car so I only managed to chat with him for a couple of minutes, but Lyd - oh my god - this boy’s smile!’’ Allison was gushing now, “It pretty much killed me’’.

Lydia chuckled and nodded impatiently, already knowing this part of the story. Allison had sent her snapchat from the cafe, food in hand and the boy’s retreating figure in the background as she posed wide eyed and grinning. She had drawn little red hearts over her eyes with shaking fingers, making Lydia laugh out loud in her kitchen.
Her mother had frowned and told her spent too much time on her cell phone.

“Anyway, we moved on, travelled through LA and hit Arizona. Would you believe me if I told you we bumped into each other again?’’

“Are you kidding me?’’ Lydia lifted one side of her lips into a smile.

Allison shook her head excitedly, a huge smile still gracing her lips. She tucked her hair behind her ears and bit back a squeal as she recalled the memory. The childlike excitement on her face made Lydia want to hug her. The strawberry blonde was excited for her friend too, although she was the cynical when it came to love out of the two - it was adorable to see Ally so worked up.

“I was walking around the National Forest - I took loads of photos! I’ll have to show you th- Ow!’’ Allison frowned as Lydia gave her a quick slap on the arm, urging her to continue the story.

“God, sorry - okay. So, my dad was sitting at visitor centre, complaining about bugs, so I went off on my own. Literally twenty minutes later I see LA cafe guy sitting at the lake’’, Allison sighed, staring at the ceiling, “I swear, we looked up at the same time’’.

Lydia scoffed, rolling her friend out of her bed in protest. Allison giggled, letting herself be evacuated from Lydia’s no romance zone. She tumbled gently to the floor, sitting there happily whilst she rested her chin on the edge of the mattress.

“We sat for hours, just talking and getting to know each other. His name is Scott and he’s so sweet. He told me I had a cute nose’’.

Lydia looked puzzled but didn’t question the strange compliment. Instead, she laughed as Allison scrunched up her elfin features and grinned. She looked so happy, Lydia didn’t dare burst her bubble.

“Want to hear the best part of the story?’’

“Naturally’’, Lydia flicked her long hair over her shoulder as she lay on her stomach, her head cradled in her hands as she waited with growing impatience.

When the brunette stayed silent and merely let her smile grow to a ridiculous size, Lydia thumped on the mattress and whined.

“Ally!’’ She dragged out the last syllable of her friend’s name for maximum effect.

Allison bounded from the floor and threw herself back onto Lydia’s bed, ignoring the other girl’s groan as she landed on her legs.

“He goes here!’’

“What?’’ Lydia’s shocked reply was muffled, her lips pressed into the pillow as Allison tried not to squeal in her ear.

“He goes to this school! He’s a sophom*ore, here! In Princeton!’’ She added, just in case Lydia hadn’t grasped her meaning yet.
“It’s like it’s fate, I swear’’, Allison fell back into the bed beside a skeptical Lydia.

“I’m sure it is babe’’, Lydia kept her expression neutral and she patted the other girl’s hand in a motherly fashion.

Allison sat up, leaning on her elbows to look at her friend. She raised her eyebrows and tried to look stern but failed completely when the smile she tried to hide kept erupting onto her lips.

“I’m surprised you’re such a cynic about love and romance when you’re in your current position…’’

Lydia squirmed under the brunettes knowing gaze and she answered her statement with silence. Avoiding Allison’s stare altogether, she rolled out of bed and let her feet hit the floor. Picking up the last of her shoes, she placed them in the open wardrobe. Her back faced her friend and she remained quiet until Allison got the hint.

“Right. Let’s get Danny, I’m starving’’.

Lydia let out a sigh of relief, dropping the shoes into the wardrobe and closing the door. Turning round, she shot her friend a grateful smile and grabbed a sweater to pair with her shorts.
Allison smiled back, but with concern in her eyes, she opened the door and waited for Lydia to follow her out.

Quickly brushing out her long hair, Lydia grabbed her purse from her desk and quickly looked down at her cell. Seeing five flashing messages and two voicemails - all from the same person - she ignored it, shoving it into her drawer and walking out the door.

“So you’re telling me you travelled across like, nine states, and met the same gorgeous guy in two of them?’’ Danny speared his pasta with his fork, raising his eyebrows at Allison who simply beamed and nodded.

“And then if you’re life isn’t great enough, he tells you he attends the same school you were accepted to, four months before?’’

Allison nodded excitedly again, her chocolate brown waves bouncing with the movement.

The boy looked across the table at Lydia as if to say, ‘can you believe this sh*t?’ Lydia simply shrugged with a half smile. She was toying with her bottle cap, watching spin it on the table top as she tried to avoid the majority of the conversation. She knew where this would lead to.

“So are you hanging out with him again?’’ Danny prompted and wiggled his eyebrows.

Allison rolled her eyes as the boy laughed, popping a fry into his mouth. She was well aware what Danny meant when he ‘hung out with someone’.

“We exchanged numbers and he told me to give him a call when I was settled - so yeah”, she beamed, pink in the cheeks, “I guess I’ll give him a call tonight’’.
Danny turned on the girl who was inspecting the lunch board menu behind him with great interest. The main cafe hall was large and surrounded by brick walls. Intricately carved mouldings trimmed the ceiling and huge, brass chandeliers hung from the arches above them. The long tables and bustling chatter of students clashed with the extravagant decor but Lydia liked the contrast.
Princeton was pretty, she had decided.

“So, my Miss Lydia’’, Danny crooned, “How’s your love life holding up? Missing your man yet?’’

Lydia cringed inside but placed a neutral expression on her face that she was well practiced at. She let her lips curls up and her green eyes shone fondly at her friend.

“I called him when I arrived, told him I was here’’, she shrugged, “I’ve been too busy getting things sorted you know, haven’t had time to call him again’’.

Allison was picking at her burger as she listened to her friend speak. Deciding not to say anything, she shot Danny a warning glance that he chose to ignore.

“The long distance thing isn’t working for you, is it babe?’’ Danny stated bluntly, but his smile was sympathetic.

Lydia faltered and her lips couldn’t grasp the words she wanted to say. Not the true words anyway.

“It’ll be fine, I mean - it’s great’’, she waved her soda bottle around erratically, “It’s not even been three days, right?’’

“Honey, three days without knowing your every move? Jackson will be having an aneurysm - OW!’’

Danny glared at Allison who was mouthing angry words at him, quick and fast. Lydia dropped her head into her hands, rubbing her temples.
She was aware of her boyfriend’s possessive tendencies, everyone was. Including her two best friends. Jackson Whitmore was Beacon Hills’ star lacrosse player, the guy who drove a lamborghini to school and the same boy who chose Lydia to be his girlfriend three years ago.
She remembered when he had asked her out on a date one Friday after school. She had been sixteen and had only managed to nod dumbly. He told her he would pick her up at seven; the rest was history.

Jackson was staying in California to attend Stanford on a lacrosse scholarship. He had urged her to apply there too, and she had. In fact, she’d been accepted. Lydia had been accepted to all the schools that she had applied to.
When she decided that she wanted to go to Princeton, it was for many reasons. She didn’t explain them all to her boyfriend though, some she kept silent, tucked away with her biggest fears and her quiet emotions. They had argued that night, one of many fights to come over the summer before term began.

Lydia had cried as Jackson pulled the car over four blocks from her home, demanding she got out. He had yelled at her, telling her she obviously didn’t care about their relationship as much as he did.

She walked past her house, going straight to Allison’s and using her spare key to slip through the door. When Allison let her curl into bed with her, the girl didn’t even asked what had happened, what was said. And when Jackson called Lydia an hour later, she kept silent as she watched her friend pick up the phone and blurt out apologies and ‘I love you’s’.

The day that she left for the airport, Lydia’s mom patted her on the shoulder, trying not to crease her dress as she hugged her only child goodbye. She left after that, waving as she looked down at her cell, promising to see her at thanksgiving.
Jackson had exchanged an awkward goodbye with Danny, who then stood back with Lydia’s luggage to let the two have some privacy.

Lydia hugged the boy, sniffling a little as she eyed the large plane outside the floor to ceiling windows. Suitcases were being loaded into the cargo hold and the tannoy overhead was calling their flight number.

“Call me when you land, okay? And when you get to your dorm?’’ Jackson frowned down at her, not convinced she was listening to him.
“Lydia?’’

“What? Yeah, of course. I’ll call you when I land’’, she smiled, but it was tired and it faltered quickly. Her boyfriend didn’t notice.

“Call me everyday. And stay away from all those freshman parties, they’re stupid’’, he grimaced. His lip turned up into a sneer as he pulled at the neckline of her t-shirt, tugging it higher.

Lydia could hear Danny tutting behind them. She had nodded before she stopped, placing a hand on Jackson’s arm. She softened her eyes as she met his gaze, smiling hopefully at the boy.

“Jackson, you know I can’t call you everyday - I’ll have classes and homework and-’’

“But you can check in every night, Lydia’’, he frowned as if she had said the wrong thing. Had she?

“Well, I shouldn’t have to ‘check in’. We’ll have nothing left to talk about if we speak every day’’, she laughed a little, the sound not reaching her eyes. Jackson didn’t crack a smile.
“I’ll need a chance to meet new people, experience new things…’’

“You mean meet new guys?’’ Jackson raised an eyebrow, his lips drawn tightly.

“God, Jackson, no!’’, Lydia sighed in exasperation, “How many times do I have to tell you?’’

“I knew you should have came to Stanford with me’’, he complained. The boy wrenched his arm away from Lydia’s soft hold. She winced at the sharp action.

“Jackson…’’

“Why are you even leaving now anyway? Classes don’t start for another three days, are you that desperate to get rid of me?’’

Lydia had closed her eyes and counted to three at that point. When she opened them, she plastered a bright and easy smile on her lips.
“Jackson, it’s a seven hour flight, I’m moving across the country - it’s a big deal! I want to get settled, know where my classes are before I have to find them on the first day and-’’

Jackson had only rolled his eyes at her, stepping backwards with his hands shoved into pockets.

“Your flight’s boarding’’, his eyes were cold and when he walked away he threw his last words over his shoulder, “Call me tonight’’.

She was silent that entire journey, pretending to sleep as she lay her head on Danny’s shoulder and tried not to tear up as she stroked her hand soothingly.

“He’s not that bad”, Lydia tried to joke, her voice sounding weaker than she wanted it to.

Danny only shrugged, dropping the conversation topic as Allison eyed him warningly. The girl halved the cupcake she’d bought, sliding the bright pink icing towards Lydia with a smile.
She accepted it with a grin, knowing that Ally was trying to make her feel better. She loved that girl so -

“Have you told Danny about the half naked guy you flirted with in the bathroom yet?”

Lydia was going to kill her. She glared at the brunette, sighing as she saw Danny out of her peripheral vision. He had straightened up in his chair with wide eyes and pursed lips. He leant forward, waiting for the gossip.

“It’s not what it sounds like”, Lydia ground out, she stared at Allison with contempt and the girl simply grinned in return, licking the icing from the cupcake with more enthusiasm than necessary.

Lydia turned to Danny with a placating smile, hoping to calm him down from the bomb that Allison had just dropped.

“Danny, she’s exaggerating”.

Allison shook her head and laughed at Lydia’s expression. She was not happy.
She tugged on Danny’s shirt sleeve, gaining his attention as they both leaned over the table. Allison whispered dramatically, recalling Lydia’s story and fanning her cheeks with her hand.
Danny lapped it up.

“So he was only in a towel and Lydia practically jumped into his arms -”

“We only bumped into each other, for fu -”

“And then they start arguing right, all passionate and up in each other’s faces, grinding all over the place and sh*t-”

“No we f*cking didn’t-”

Danny was howling by this point, shaking his head in a completely insincere apology as Lydia stared at them both with a deadpan expression. She quickly realised it would be easier for her to wait on them finishing.

She scanned the room and attempted to ignore the way Allison described the strangers glistening body and perfectly messy hair. This was starting to sound like a bad romance novel.
She scoffed and rolled her eyes when she tried to tell their friend that Lydia almost dragged him into a shower stall.
Unlikely, she thought.

It was when Danny was grinning from ear to ear and Allison was miming out God knows what, that Lydia saw him.
She froze and grabbed Allison’s arm, stopping her in her movements. A boy with familiar dark hair crossed the hall, weaving in between tables with long, graceful strides. He was as tall as Lydia remembered and his lean muscles could just be seen underneath his white tshirt.

“Lydia, you’re bright red and you look like you’re about to die”, Danny stage whispered.
Allison was looking at her friend curiously and she was about to question it before she followed Lydia’s eyeline.

Two boys were standing at the till, ordering food and chatting amongst themselves. One was blonde with short hair that curled slightly, his smile was mischievous and the dimples on his cheeks only reinforced that. The other looked an awfully lot like the boy Lydia had described to her that morning.
Grinning like she had just won the lottery, Allison turned slowly in her seat until she faced her best friend.

“That’s him right there, isn’t it?”

“Where?!” Danny practically yelped standing up slightly. Lydia turned beetroot, slapping his arm as she attempted to duck behind a hysterical Allison.

Allison grabbed her friend as she tried to stay upright and control her laughter. The three of them eyed the boys at the counter and Danny let out a low whistle.

“Lydia, get your cute little ass over there and go talk to him”, the boy ordered her with a pointed finger.

Lydia looked mortified at the idea, “No!”, she yelped, “Not a chance in hell. He’s an ass, I wanted to murder him within the first five minutes of meeting him”.

Allison scoffed, “That just means you actually have chemistry! You know, you argue with someone ‘cause you actually want to rip their clothes off!’’

Danny cackled along with her as Lydia just shook her head and prayed for better friends.

“Are we forgetting that I’m in a relationship?” She demanded, eyeing each friend with one delicately arched eyebrow.

Neither of them had the conscience to look guilty.

“We’re just saying, keep your options open!” Allison told her brightly, “And you obviously think he’s hot’’.

“Whatever”, Lydia mumbled. She chose to not delve further into that conversation again. Jackson wasn’t something she wanted to discuss right now.

“Besides, he was only in the freaking bathroom to hook up in the first place! He’s probably got a new girl in his bed every week”, Lydia scrunched her nose up at the notion.

Danny smirked and Lydia could practically see the dirty thoughts floating through his head.

“That’s something I wouldn’t say no to”, he winked, “did you get his name?”

“He said it was Stiles. I mean, what the hell is a Stiles?”, Lydia huffed, hating how this asshole that taken over their conversation.

“Stiles is the guy who you want in your bed’’.

“Allison, please…’’

“Stiles is the guy who’s going to be your new plaything’’.

“What is wrong with you?’’
Despite her annoyance, Lydia’s eyes followed his movements as the chatter faded into silence. He walked through the tables with lunch in hand. Every now and then, he broke off his conversation with his friend to say hi to a girl, or wink to a cluster who called out to him.
He looked just as good fully dressed as he did half naked. His eyes looked darker today, more chocolate than gold. Lydia frowned at her own thoughts - concerned that this was something she took notice of.
The boy oozed easy confidence and he seemed to know half of the student population; there was no way he was a freshman. Lydia was suddenly filled with curiosity for this boy.

Out of nowhere, his eyes darted to her direction, as if something there had called out to him. Lydia spun in her seat, her heart beating at a sickeningly fast pace. She ducked her head slightly, hoping to blend in with the crowds. Allison simply smirked knowingly, finishing her cupcake with the satisfaction of being completely right.

Chapter 3: Chapter Three

Chapter Text

“You got me crawling,
crawling on the floor…
I’ve never met a girl
like you before’’.

Chapter 4: Chapter Four

Chapter Text

“She’s mad but she’s magic,
there’s no lies in her fire’’.

Stiles was standing by the sofas, a beer in one hand and a pretty blonde girl in the other. He had missed her name when she yelled it over the music, Sarah or Heather, or something.
She was telling him about her cat at home and how it had just had kittens. Stiles had nodded distractedly, his lips wrapped around the glass bottle and his fingers tracing circles on the skin of Heather’s hip.

Her words faltered under his touch and she giggled as he gave her his best smile, the beer bottle playing against his lips. Stiles’ eyes raked over her slim figure appreciatively, her small skirt doing wonders for his imagination. He leaned in to her, watching smugly as her eyes lit up at his advance. When he asked Sarah -no- Heather, if she wanted to see his bedroom, she accepted at once.
Stiles was linking her hand with his and towing her through the drunken crowds when he heard someone call his name. Deciding that the voice was indeed male, and therefore unimportant, he ignored it.

“Stiles, you little sh*t, wait!’’

The boy rolled his eyes and stopped in his tracks, turning and watching as Scott pushed through the body of students. Isaac stood taller behind him, a relaxed expression gracing his features that probably had a lot to do with the tequila in his hand.

Stiles sighed, dropping his ‘friends’ hand so he could take another gulp of beer and run his fingers through his already messy hair. It was warm in the small apartment and his skin was prickling. His shirt was sticking to him slightly and a strange feeling had settled in the atmosphere. Judging by everyone else’s drunken antics, no one else felt it. So, Stiles ignored it and continued flirting with every girl who approached him.

“Dude, I need to borrow you for a minute’’, Scott glanced at Heather and gave the girl a small smile. He raised his eyebrows at the sulking look she returned to him and Isaac snigg*red into his tequila.

“Scott, buddy…’’ Stiles flashed his eyes meaningfully at his friend, side glancing at Heather who was now inspecting her nails, “can it wait? We’re kinda busy at the moment’’.

Scott rolled his eyes as Isaac’s hand came from over his shoulder, offering it to Stiles who bumped it with his fist and winked.
Grabbing his best friend by the arm, he hauled the boy forward, ignoring his protest as he called back his somewhat insincere apologies to Stiles’ new friend.

“Well that was just rude’’, Stiles scoffed, stealing the bottle of amber liquid from Isaac and taking a drag.

It stung his throat and burned his lips, the taste staying on his tongue as Scott lectured him over the yells and bass.

“Did you even know her name?’’

“Of course I did, it was Sar- no,sh*t’’, he winced scrunched up his nose and peered back at the blonde girl, frowning when he saw her chatting to junior who looked like he had a steroid addiction.
“Yeah, I can’t remember’’.

Scott shook his head at his friend’s incorrigible words, wondering what had happened to the little boy who played werewolves and vampires with him .
Stiles bobbed his head as a song by Blink 182 came on, laughing with his whole body as Isaac stumbled drunkenly into a table leg. Stiles helped him up, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes in the process.
Scott smiled, there he was.

“Right, guys - this is serious’’, Scott told his roommates.

The three boys were standing round the corner from the open kitchen and he could see Allison and Lydia chatting over the breakfast bar.
He was nervous, looking from the pretty brunette to the two idiots standing in front of him. Isaac had serious tequila eyes and Stiles was still laughing hysterically, bright pink lipstick smudged the base of his neck.
Jesus Christ.

“I love it when he goes all Alpha Male on us’’, Isaac stage whispered, his body swaying with more than just the beat of the music.

Stiles snorted as he tried to hold in a laugh, looking at his best friends serious gaze with far too much humour and alcohol in his body.

Scott looked at them both with a deadpan expression, his sobriety doing nothing for his patience. He waited until the two boys had settled down, watching as their matching smirks faded into guilty gazes.

“Allison is here and -’’

“Ooh, is this National Park Girl?’’ Isaac piped up with excited eyes. He clapped his hands together clumsily, frowning as liquid splashed the sides of the bottle and fell to the carpet.

“The one, the one with the cute nose?’’ Stiles asked, as he helpfully prodded his own scrunched up nose with a single finger.

“Yes and she’s here with her best friend whose approval I would really like to gain -’’

“Psh, say no more dude’’, Stiles held up in hands as if it wasn’t a big deal, “Isaac and I will charm the pants off of these girls and then the two of you can live happily ever after and…’’

His voice faded into the rest of the party noise as he turned away from an alarmed Scott, walking towards the kitchen with Isaac close on his heels. It was less than ten feet to the kitchen, and when Scott entered behind them, he wasn’t really surprised to see that Isaac had acquired a sombrero, which he wore on top of his messy curls proudly.

“Hola!’’ The boy announced, his English/faux Mexican accent slurred but friendly.

Scott groaned, pushing the taller boy out of the way in time to see Allison’s stunned expression. She smothered a shocked laugh that turned into a grin as Isaac took her hand in his and placed an innocent kiss there.

“It’s nice to meet you, National Park Girl’’, he smiled widely and Scott pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

Allison continued smiling, placing her now empty cup on the worktop as she turned and quirked an eyebrow at Scott. He shrugged at her in defeat, letting the girl know that this was clearly a normal occurrence for the trio.

Scott cleared his throat and slapped Isaac’s too-big-for-their-student-kitchen sombrero out of his way.

“Allison, this is my friends and roommates, Isaac’’, he gestured to the boy already taking another swig of tequila, ‘’and Stiles’’.

A tall boy with dark, messy hair and warm, amber eyes smiled down at her politely. Scott placed a shy hand on the small of Allison’s back, bringing her forward rather proudly.

“Guy’s, this is Allison’’.

The girls eyes were wide as she stared at the boy called Stiles. He was scanning the room as she took in his familiar appearance and tried to hold back her laughter.

Stiles. Lydia’s Stiles. Oh my god, this was going to be hilarious.

She pursed her lips as she held back a grin, quickly smiling innocently at Scott as he looked her strangely.

“Are you okay?’’ he asked her, his voice low in her ear.

She shivered from his close proximity before she smiled genuinely at his concern. She nodded and placed a hand on his waist, moving closer to him in the cramped kitchen. Scott was sure the alcohol had something to do with her sudden confidence but he didn’t mind. He leaned into her, letting her silky waves brush against his cheek.

“Where’s Lydia?’’, he murmured in her ear. God, she smelled like vanilla and everything else he loved in the world.

Allison let her eyes wander to the boy called Stiles at the mention of her friends name. He was nursing another bottle of beer, laughing at something Isaac had said. The other boy still had on his ridiculously large hat - but between them - they gained a large amount of attention from female students.

“She just ran to the bathroom, she’ll be back in a minute’’, Allison tried to tame her smirk into a smile, desperately waiting for her friend to return and for the ball to drop.

__________________________________________

Lydia stood in front of the mirror in the tiny bathroom, already annoyed at the fact that she had to vacate a ‘busy’ couple from it before she could use the facilities.
She ran her hands through her hair, starting to think that Allison may have messed it up too much. Her usual curls were twisted into long waves and she looked like she’d just rolled out of bed after a really good night. Her eye’s were still bright, unclouded from the small amount of alcohol that she had consumed.

The girl reapplied her lipstick just as someone else knocked impatiently on the door. She sighed as they yelled at her to hurry. Ignoring them, she smoothed down her dress and gave herself another once over in the mirror. She did look good, she had to admit it. In fact, Lydia was almost starting to wish she had worn the heels that Allison had offered her.
Every girl at the party seemed to be a full head or more taller than her. She was swallowed by the crowds, but at least her feet didn’t ache.

After another thump landed on the door, she wrenched it open, a scowl on her pretty face. With a scrunched up nose of disgust, she side stepped the couple as they stumbled into the bathroom, still wrapped up in each other.
The door was slammed behind them but Lydia was still close enough to hear the moan that came from the muscular boy inside.
“Oh Heather..’’

Making her way back to to the kitchen proved to be difficult and it took Lydia a lot of determined pushing to part the large crowds that seemed to have only gotten bigger.
When she reached the living room, she stood on tiptoe, breathing out a sigh of relief as she spotted Allison at the same spot in the kitchen. She stood beside Scott, looking a lot cosier than they had before. Lydia smiled at the sight before she realised two other boys had joined them.

They both stood tall but they had their backs to her. She frowned in confusion when she seen that one had a large sombrero on his head. By the looks of things, he was attempting to balance shot glasses filled with an amber liquid inside the rim.
Allison and the other two boys were shaking with laughter and intrigued, Lydia made her way towards the group. The lights had been dimmed and the music was sightly softer but the bass was still loud and she felt the floor vibrate with each footstep.

Allison’s face lit up when she seen Lydia and before she could greet her friend, Scott spotted her with another massive grin. He nodded towards her, his arm still around Allison. Tipping his beer bottle in her direction he announced:

“Guys, this is Allison’s best friend and roommate Ly-’’

It seemed to happen in slow motion, as embarrassingly mortifying things always do. Lydia was already placing her best smile on her red lips, prepared yet nervous to meet two new people at once. She usually didn’t do well in these kinds of situations, always relying on Danny or Allison to be there with her. But now, as a freshman in college… well, when in Rome, right?

Yet as the boy with messy brown hair turned around to face her, the smile slipped from her lips as her mouth parted in both surprise and horror. The boy’s familiar golden eyes went wide and Lydia realised that him being fully clothed really didn’t make a difference to how her heart rate increased.
The smile that graced his prominent features filled her with far too many emotions to count, but as one side of his lips tilted higher than the other in that already familiar smirk, her heart danced.

Jesus f*ck, he was pretty.

Before Scott could finish off his introduction of her, Stiles had let his own drop from his smirking lips.

“Kitten”.

Lydia squeezed her hands into little fists at her side, trying to ignore the way her blood boiled at his name for her. Her lips curled into what she hoped was a snarl as she remembered why he had called her that.
Because she wasn’t ferocious enough to be a tiger.

‘Dick’, she thought.

“Wait, kitten? What?’’, Scott looked extremely confused as he glanced between the girl and his friend; wondering why Stiles was positively beaming and Lydia looked furious.

Under his arm, Allison was shaking, her laughter filling her cup as she tried to conceal it from her seriously unhappy friend.

“Nice to see you again’’, Stiles informed her, a smile still playing on his face, “Especially in more appropriate conditions’’.

His amber eyes appraised her, taking in her dress and long legs. They met her own gaze on the journey back up her body and Stiles reveled in the way her cheeks turned a dusky pink and her eyes positively killed him.
“Although I did prefer the shirt and socks last time’’, he winked.

“Wait, do you guys already know each other?’’ Scott was holding his head now, looking worried he had drunk more than he had thought. He looked to Lydia for an answer.

Stiles was ignoring his friend, in fact he was oblivious to everything else in the room. He was gazing at the girl he met in the bathroom. Her fiery temper and adorable socks had been stuck in his mind since. He had surprised himself with how disappointed he had been when Malia had sidetracked him earlier that day.
His eyes had been glued to her as she sat under that tree, her glasses perched on her nose and books on her lap that were nearly as big as her.
She looked like a little bookworm, a shy little thing that wouldn’t say boo to a ghost.

But then, he had heard what could come out of those lips. He grinned at the memory and he was suddenly overcome with the urge to get this little thing in front of him riled up again.

When he stopped daydreaming and took his eyes off Lydia’s pouty lips, he realised that she was speaking.

“-Your friend accosted me in the bathroom, my first night here. Thegirl’s bathroom, may I add’’, Lydia started him down with emerald eyes and long lashes.

Stiles was sure that a glare like that from a girl like Lydia would have brought any sane man to his knees. But for Stiles, well, it pretty much turned him on.
He was glutton for punishment and trouble, he would admit that himself. His usual type of girl was one that was bubbly and just on the right side of chatty. He would nod along to what they said, agreed with the things they loved and then that night, they would be in the back of his jeep or he would be climbing the tree outside their dorm window.

But then there was Kitten. Or Lydia, as he now knew the name she had withheld from him. She was tiny, smaller than he remembered and clearly a head shorter than every other heel-wearing girl in the room. Her lips were just as pouty as he remembered, bee-stung and snarling up at him in a way that got her her nickname in the first place.
But it was her hair, god almighty, her hair.

The strawberry blonde locks that he had only seen in a bun before, were much, much longer than he had imagined. They skimmed her waist, flowing down the black fabric of her dress in waves. It was messy and she looked like she’d just been f*cked into next week. And Stiles loved it.

He was busy imagining her long curls falling in a curtain around his as leaned over his body, kissing his lips before trailing them down his neck, his chest, to his….

“Motherfu-, what?’’ Stiles snapped, staring at Scott who had just punched his arm.

His friend glared at him after hearing Lydia’s words. Despite Scott’s annoyance and Isaac’s ignorance to the scene, Allison was laughing quietly behind her hand, watching Lydia and the situation with humour in her eyes. Stiles liked this girl already.

“I was just being friendly’’, Stiles assured Scott, his smirk quickly turning into a charming smile that Lydia deemed too well-practiced.

She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes at the boy, trying not to meet his gaze as he turned back to her. The girl’s head just met his shoulders and she didn’t like how she was constantly greeted by this boy’s chest - naked or clothed, it was still distracting.

“I was friendly, wasn’t I Lydia?’’

Lydia scowled and she wasn’t entirely sure she liked this boy knowing her name. It slipped out of his lips like honey and her heart jumped at the sound of it.

There was something about this boy that changed her usually quiet demeanor. Lydia was in no way timid or weak, but she wasn’t one for confrontation or battle.
…Or whatever it was that she and this boy seemed to get into.

“Friendly?’’ Lydia scoffed, allowing herself to meet Stiles’ gaze. She stuttered over her next words, startled at the way he looked at her. Like he wanted to eat her up.

“May - Maybe too friendly’’, Lydia watched the boy smirk and she almost growled.

She looked over to Scott who was staring at the pair with fascinated eyes. Batting her lashes and placing an innocent smile on her lips, she told him: “Maybe you could teach your friend some social skills and how to talk to girls’’.

Scott bit back a grin as Stiles looked appalled. He was quick to advance on the girl, enjoying the way she flushed as he moved closer. She stumbled into the bar stool behind her and the hem of her dress swished around her legs, moving higher and causing Stiles to stop in his tracks.
He had had girls flash him on the lacrosse pitch, their bare chests emblazoned with his name, but this girl - this girl made his throat close up and his mouth turn dry at the sight of her thighs.

His meaningful words fell short after his reaction to Lydia’s legs, but she didn’t need to know that.

“I know how to talk to girls, Kitten, don’t you worry’’, he smirked, letting his gaze linger on her lips, “not many of them would have turned down my offer in the bathroom. But if you’re so concerned about my ways with the opposite sex, maybeyoucould teach me?’’

He grinned as she turned fuchsia, glaring at him with those big, doe eyes that were clearly created for more innocent uses. Obviously, someone never told Lydia that.
Stiles was aware he sounded like an asshole, in fact, he knew he was an asshole. But there was something about this girl that he loved to annoy. He adored the way she lit up like a firecracker, they way her full lips fell into a moody pout at his words and her killer stare made him want to fall to his knees for her.
She was fun and Stiles wanted to play.

Lydia surprised him by stepping forward. He grinned and the bottle of beer that was on it’s way to his lips became abandoned. He glanced over his shoulders, seeing that Isaac had disappeared and that Scott and Allison were huddled together by the sink, deep in conversation.

It was just the two of them.

Lydia stopped just in front of him, her head tilted back slightly to meet his gaze. Stiles raised his eyes at her determined expression and he was put off balance by the smirk that graced her ruby lips. It was unexpected and his little Kitten turned into a hunter before his eyes.
She placed a hand on his chest, the same hand that she hand slammed on to him when he collided in the bathroom. Stiles let out a shaky breath at her touch, taking a gulp from his beer in order to hide it. Lydia’s knowing smile told him that she had noticed.

“I’m sure you don’t need my help, in fact, I’m almost certain you’ve had plenty of girls in your bed without my assistance’’.

Stiles smiled at her sudden confidence; marveling over the way the bass fueled his heartbeat but how she could make it stop with one touch. This girl was f*cking magic, turning his oxygen into position with her sharp words. He breathed it all in, loving the way it burned his throat and made his head swim. She was intoxicating and Stiles was certain it wasn’t just the alcohol that was making him feel this way.

“You’ve made an awful lot of assumptions about me, Kitten’’, he loved the way the word rolled off his lips and he enjoyed the fact that she seemed to hiss at the mention of it.

Lydia squirmed at the way he said ‘Kitten’. It dripped from his lips like sex and the once innocent name suddenly had so many sexual implications. Ignoring the way it made her body burn, she shook her mane out of her eyes, glaring up at Stiles.

“Oh yeah? Prove me wrong’’, her eyes shone with the challenge.

Stiles smirked, his lips playing with the edge of his now empty bottle. He thought carefully about his next words and he stalled, leaving the girl waiting. He turned to the counter top, digging through the buckets of ice until the pulled out a fresh beer.
He pulled the top off before lifting it to his lips. Stiles offered the girl one, unable to make the fancy co*cktails that Scott had already produced for her.

Lydia surprised both Stiles and herself by holding out her hand. But instead of taking the unopened one he held out to her, she wrapped her hands around the beer he had already drank out of. The cold glass was a shocking contrast against the warmth of his skin but she tried to ignore that.
Stiles’ jaw went slack as she took his beer, tipping her delicate neck back to take a long drag. When she was done, her lips glistened and she left red lipstick on the rim.

Stiles was sure his heart stopped beating. And when it started again, it was racing three times as fast and his eyes met Lydia’s with a sudden fierceness. This girl was a challenge and she was something he hadn’t really encountered before.
He was at a loss and he struggled to regain the upper hand that he always held. He placed his smirk back onto his lips, annoyed at himself for letting it falter. Quickly opening the beer that he had meant for Lydia, he turned back to her, hoping to shake the girl off balance too.

‘’I’m double majoring’’, he told her smugly. Everyone, both male and female were always surprised when Stiles announced this fact.

Lydia rolled her eyes and smirked, refusing to be impressed.

“Likewise, sweetheart’’, she arched a perfectly plucked brow telling him with her expression that this was not a big deal to her.

Stiles caught on quickly, realising that the girl before him was also taking a double study load. The books that he had seen surrounding her earlier only confirmed his thoughts.

“What classes do you take?’’

Lydia pursed her lips, surveying the boy with cautious eyes. His flirty manner was still there, extremely evident in his smile and the way he leaned into her. But the co*cky smirk was gone and his eyes were softer than before. They were the colour of honey and they shone with a warmth that Lydia hadn’t seen before.

“Ancient Languages and Biochemistry’’, she took a small gulp of beer, trying not to wince at the taste as the bitterness lined her lips, “Mainly cellular and molecular studies’’, she added with a deliberate off hand tone.

Stiles looked down at the girl in wonder, watching as she took another little sip from her beer. She looked around the room nervously, her green eyes never settling on anyone for too long. But when she gazed back at him, determination and curiosity made her stare stick.

“Well, it looks like we’ll be seeing a lot of each other in the science wing”, Stiles told her happily, “Forensic Sciences’’, he explained with a smirk.

Lydia raised her eyebrows, seeing the co*cky manner return in the boy. She was eager to shut him down.

“I doubt that’’.

‘’Why?’’, Stiles frowned, clearly confused by her answer.

Lydia flashed him a beauty pageant smile before leaning into his body, her small frame only an inch away from his own. She stood on her toes, her messy hair tickling his cheek as she whispered into his ear above the music.

“Because I’ll be doing my goddamn best to avoid you’’.

Stiles barked out a laugh as she pulled away from him, leaving him stunned and speechless for a second. Her perfume, or shampoo or whatever it was - had left him breathless. She smelt amazing and his fingers curled into fists as he resisted the urge to place a hand on her waist.

Touches like that were normal for him, an everyday occurrence when it came to girls. sh*t, he only met Sarah - wait, no - Heather an hour ago and he had her wrapped around him in minutes. But he had a feeling Lydia wasn’t used to that.

Instead, he gently tugged on a wild curl, watching it bounce back into it’s wavy spiral. He flashed a smile at her, proving he was unfazed by her words.

‘’I’ve never met a girl like you before’’.

Lydia fought the urge to roll her eyes at such a cliche line, ‘’What’s that supposed to mean?’’

‘’You’re like the perfect mix of adorable and sexy’’, Stiles grinned, moving closer to her as the room grew more crowded and students fought over the remaining dregs of vodka.

The girl quirked an eyebrow and smothered a laugh before she answered, ‘’Isn’t that a line from a Ryan Gosling film?’’

Stiles laughed at her quickness, she didn’t take long to answer him, to retaliate with sharp wit and put downs. He liked it, Lydia kept him on his toes. This was the most fun he’d had at a party in while, including what he usually got up to in bedrooms and closets.

He was quick to recover, looking down at Lydia with golden eyes. His beer was forgotten about, lukewarm in his hand and he was oblivious to the noise around him.

“What I mean is, you’re not like other girls’’, he smiled charmingly, knowing his dimples would be showing.Chicks loved dimples.

Again, Lydia surprised him, shooting back a question to his cliched line that sent him down a peg. The girl almost had him on the floor and he found himself enjoying it, despite the way she had thrown him.

“What’s wrong with other girls?’’ Lydia frowned, asking him sincerely. She quirked an eyebrow as he stood with his jaw slack, his words stuck in his throat as he stared at her.

“…Wait, what?’’

Lydia didn’t miss a beat as she smiled at the boy, her lips curling in a way that told him she knew exactly what she was doing.

“Well by attempting to compliment me by telling me I’m so different from all the other girls, you’re implying that being like the other said females is an insult’’.

She looked up at him through thick lashes, enjoying how he stared back at her in silence. Pleased that she had managed to end the conversation, she walked around the boy and out of the kitchen. Lydia felt his eyes on her the entire time, but didn’t dare look back. At this point, he could have beckoned her with a curled finger and she probably would have obeyed. And that annoyed the hell out of her.
She skirted around the breakfast bar, noting how Allison was wrapped around Scott, their lips crushed together as she dropped her empty cup to the floor.

Deciding that she didn’t want to interrupt her friends good night, she pulled her cell out of her bag. Lydia typed out a quick text, sending it to Allison and telling her she was heading back to their dorm. Ally would shout at her tomorrow, when her head didn’t spin and her lips weren’t busy.

When the front door clicked shut behind her and the noise became a dulled roar, she let out a sigh. Her body felt tense and she was far too hot.
That boy had more of an affect on her than she cared to admit. Even with clothes on, she still saw his bare chest. Whilst he looked at her, she recalled the way the water droplets clung to his lean muscles, his taut stomach.
But then, Stiles would open his mouth and speak.

Lydia gritted her teeth she she thought back to their conversation. Intoxicated or not, she had a feeling he was like that all the time. He seemed to love taking pleasure out of seeing her angry.
Before she could calm herself down again, her cell buzzed in her hand. She glanced at it, expecting it to be a response from Allison.

Instead, Jackson’s name flashed on the screen. She checked the clock above the photo that popped up with his call. 12.45am.
Reluctantly, she answered and began walking down the stairs to the front door.

Chapter 5: Chapter Five

Chapter Text

“You’re playing with fire,
and I have a paper heart’’.

_____________________

Chapter 6: Chapter Six.

Chapter Text

“Our hands touched,
and suddenly...
the air was electric’’.

He couldn’t help smile a little at her wariness of him, and he suspected that she probably had reason to. He flashed those white teeth at her and once again, Lydia was reminded of the big, bad wolf. In the dim light and the small room, she was too aware of this boy, too alert to his movements and how he took another towel from her shelf, walking towards her with caramel eyes.
He draped the fluffy towel around her shoulders, wiping her damp curls away from her face before quickly retreating as if she was on fire, to hot to touch.

_____________________

_____________________

_____________________

Lydia emerged from her dorm to the busy campus grounds, her bag slung over her shoulder and her timetable and map in her hand. The grounds were a hive of noise and movement, students milling from their dorms and apartments, chatting amongst their friends.
Some, who Lydia recognised from last night’s party, looked worse for wear. She crossed the courtyards, the sun shining down on her like a good luck beacon. Her first class started in twenty minutes, and it was all the way across campus.

Chapter 7: Chapter Seven.

Chapter Text

“What are we?
Somewhere between f*ck you,
and f*ck me’’.

Lydia was becoming increasingly aware that she had hardly taken any notes since Stiles Stilinski had sat down beside her.

“Mr Stilinski, glad to see you in my class again’’, He dropped sheets of paper on to the boy’s desk before turning to Lydia, “And Miss…?’’

Chapter 8: Chapter Eight

Chapter Text

“What would I do without your smart mouth,
drawing me in and then kicking me out’’.

_____________________

“Scott, you have two seconds to move your ass or I’m moving it for you’’.

Stiles stood in front of the sofa, a bin bag in one hand and the other pointing threateningly at his roommate. Kira and Scott were slumped on the couch together, Xbox controllers in their hands as they whined at their friend; kicking him out of the way whilst they craned their necks to see the TV he was blocking.

“McCall, you gossip more than a f*cking cheerleader, I swear to god-’’, He was cut off by Malia’s frown and sharp words.

Chapter 9: Chapter Nine

Chapter Text

“Her lips were like the galaxy's edge,
and he was falling into them’’.

Loud rock music was playing from an iPod, the bass competing with the sound of torrential rain against the window. The sun had died, stealing the day with it as a navy sea of clouds took its place. Rain fell hard and heavy, creating another beat in Lydia’s head - another distraction she did not need.

The girl sat on the edge of the sofa, her head in her hands as she tried not to scream. Stiles was lounging on the couch across from her, his body stretched out in a way the made his t-shirt ride up, a sliver of tanned skin showing above his jeans.
This was one of the reason why Lydia was currently averting her eyes, staring at the ground as she tried to keep it together…

“You know I’m right’’.

That was the other reason. The boy had told her this with a smirk at least a dozen times and Lydia was about to lose it. They had paced the room, taking it in turns to vent their ideas, to share their suggestions and that had lasted for all of twenty minutes. Then, he had called her Kitten.

Their study session had turned into an all out war, both of them shouting facts at each other over the coffee table, Lydia stabbing a stubborn finger at her textbook whilst Stiles googled statistics just to prove her wrong. She had yelled and he had complained. Lydia rolled her eyes whilst Stiles smirked at her and both of them raked their eyes over the other when they thought they weren’t looking.

The room was heavy with frustration, tension and chemistry. The bubbled and fizzed together like a magic potion, both of them coming to life when they spoke. Lydia became more animated, more alert and Stiles couldn’t keep a smile off of his face for more than five seconds. They were a dangerous pair, a ticking time bomb waiting to react and Stiles was sure that when it did, it would be nuclear.

He was watching her from his position on the couch, his eyes following the path her pen made as she tapped it on her lips before nibbling the end. He was hard, and had been for the last two hours.
Lydia leaned forward, grabbing her can of soda from the table as she took a sip. Her shirt had slipped down her shoulder, revealing delicate collar bones and smooth expanses of porcelain skin. Stiles hid a groan with a cough, making Lydia flick her gaze to him.

Malia had greeted him last night in his bedroom, wearing nothing but a smile and the boy hadn’t had this big of a reaction to her. Sure he enjoyed it, he was male after all, and human. But f*ck, this girl in front of him - this little siren made him want to drop to his knees and ask her what ball she would prefer. Scott was right, she had him strung up, waiting and ready to play with.

And she suddenly seemed interested in playing with him.

Stiles was quickly realising that watching Lydia was like crack to him. He couldn’t get enough. Her legs were curled up underneath her, her hair piled messily on top of her head. She was watching him from under her lashes, that goddamn pen still playing against her lips. His eyes were heavy and hooded, unable to stop looking at her, they swept across her small frame, enjoying the way she seemed to fit perfectly in the middle of his apartment. In the low light, he could just make out the faint lace of her bra under her shirt; it was as red as her lips and it had Stiles nearly panting.
She had a little smirk playing on her mouth, as if she knew what she was doing. Lydia would stretch her legs out, the bare skin attracting Stiles like a kid craving candy, only for her to tuck them back underneath her again.

More than once, their eyes met, green on gold. She would arch her eyebrow at him, as if to ask him is something was wrong. Stiles only seen it as a challenge. They had argued and fought over their project, from everything right down to the font size. But now, Lydia was playing a dangerous game, a different kind of battle that Stiles wasn’t sure he would win.
It didn’t help that she would blush when he stared too long. Her cheeks would turn an adorable shade of light pink and the boy’s head would be filled with images that would make a p*rnstar cringe.

The boy jumped up suddenly, unable to take it anymore. The silence was deafening between them, the only sound being the rain that tapped against the windows. Thunder rolled in the background and the room crackled with electricity. Stiles was sure that if they touched, they would take out the whole f*ckingtown. And he really wanted to test that theory.

He stood, clearing his throat awkwardly. He gestured to her empty can, raising his eyebrows.

“Want another drink?’’

Lydia glanced up at him, loose curls falling into her wide eyes. She looked like she could steal his heart out of his damn chest and not bat those long lashes twice.

“Uh, water would be nice, thanks’’, her voice was low, husky - probably from all the yelling she had done earlier. She was biting her lip and Stiles really, really wished she wouldn’t.

He busied himself in the kitchen, letting his own hands and wrists hang under the cold spray before he filled a glass for her. He needed to cool down, he needed to get rid of the raging hard on he was currently sporting. Stiles heard shuffling and he glanced over his shoulder, watching as the girl lifted her little body from the sofa and walked into the kitchen to join him.
Her bare feet hardly made any noise on the wooden floor and she looked almost nervous as she approached. She smiled in thanks as she took the glass from his hands, humming when the freezing water hit her lips. She gulped some down and Stiles counted the warps in the wooden counter as she did.

“God, it’s too warm in here’’, Lydia gasped, setting down the now empty cup.

She glanced up at him, the soft light making her skin look luminous. sh*t, she was too f*cking pretty for the dirty things he thought about her.
Her lips moved, making words as Stiles watched them, loving the way the curled around each syllable. He heard nothing, he was too busy thinking how he would happily sell Isaac and Scott to feel that plump lip of hers between his own.

“Stiles?’’

“Huh?”

Lydia quirked an eyebrow, leaning against the counter as she looked up at him, “I said, do you wanna go over the introduction again?’’

“Uh, no. No, let’s take a break - too many werewolf myths for one night’’, he flashed a smile at her, one that was relaxed and didn’t drive her up the wall.

Lydia watched the boy through careful eyes, gently lifting herself onto the worktop. She sat there, her legs swinging as silence enveloped them once more. It wasn’t necessarily awkward, but there was tension there - a buzz in the air that vibrated through Lydia with each nervous breath.

Stiles stood opposite her, his body leaning against the breakfast bar as he drank her in. Long legs, short shorts and a gaze that looked like it was set to kill.
He smirked at her, making her eyes flash dangerously, exactly the reaction he wanted.

"We should get to know each other better", Stiles announced casually.

Lydia looked up at the sound of his voice, her lips parting in order to protest against this idea. But then she met his gaze and saw his lips curl. He was baiting her, daring her - his whole stance screamed out to her in a challenge, and Lydia hated to lose.

“What do you want to know?’’, she tried hard to keep her voice steady and strong. Her fingers gripped the edge of the worktop.

“Let’s start off easy, shall we?’’, the boy grinned, loving the way her tongue swept out to lick her lips. She looked unsure, nervous and he was right there with her. He just didn’t want her to know that. So he stood tall, his arms crossed in front of him.

“Favourite colour?’’

Lydia arched an eyebrow at the innocent question, debating whether or not it was a trick. When she was only greeted by Stiles’ expectant gaze, she spoke:

“Blue, yours?’’, she felt childish, almost, asking such a thing. But the boy only smiled at her, seeming genuinely interested in what she had to say. It was a nice change of pace from the early shouts and arguments they had thrown at each other - and so different from their run-in’s of the last few days.

“Orange’’, the boy smirked, his eyes glancing at her messy curls. Lydia pushed a strand behind her ear self consciously.

He stayed silent after his answer and Lydia quickly caught on, it was her turn now. Thoughts raged through her head and it almost panicked her when she couldn’t decide on one. She didn’t want to be boring but some of the things she was considering made her cheeks flush and her mouth dry.

Then again, the boy certainly wouldn’t be expecting it. She hid her smirk but she new her eyes would be dancing. Stiles noticed it too, his own gaze absorbed in the way her emerald orbs flashed playfully. There was no hint of pink on her cheeks, no blush that gave her away - only a smirk that made his heart beat faster than he would liked to have admit.

“How many girls have you slept with?’’

Stiles choked on the soda he had brought to his lips, her question making him splutter. He placed the can on the counter, turning to the girl in time to see her bit her lip, smothering her silent laughter. Yeah, she definitely wanted to play.
The question made Stiles’ skin burn and he began a debate with himself in his own head. Was he to be honest? Should he lie? Would she care?

“Uh, well-’’

Lydia raised her eyebrows as she waited, loving the way she was making him squirm - it was a nice change and it made her feel powerful. She decided that she needed to feel that way more often, this boy was making her feel things that she wished she didn’t. Lydia needed control.

“I guess, you could say a few - probably not as many as you’re expecting though...’’, Stiles told her, smiling when she frowned. The girl seemed to think she had him all worked out.

“And how many is a few?’’ Lydia asked, her eyes narrowing at him.

Stiles shook his head, chuckling, “Nuhuh, you’ve had your turn Kitten - now it’s mine’’.

He suddenly looked dangerous as he took a step towards her. She could have touched his chest if she kicked out her leg and the idea of contact with him made Lydia’s body burn. He grinned, watching her gulp nervously.

“How long have you been with your guy?’’ Stiles watched her glance at her phone almost on instinct, the device lying silently on the coffee table behind them.

“Almost four years’’, Lydia told him, her voice tight and strained. She didn’t like this conversation topic and Stiles caught onto that immediately. He nodded, taking her answer as short as it was.

“I feel like we should be taking shots’’, Lydia let out a soft laugh as she tried to make the awkward silence disappear. Her fingers played with the collar of her shirt and Stiles found it extremely distracting.

He chuckled, smirking at her words as his eyes settled on the skin she revealed to him. The delicate curve of her neck, the hollow of her collarbones, the buttons that made a treasure trail down her chest.

“I could arrange that quite easily...’’

Lydia smiled, shaking her head slowly and deliberately, “I don’t think so’’.

“Why not?’’ Stiles co*cked his head to the side, surveying her with eyes that were too intense, “Not trust yourself?’’

“It’s my turn to ask the question’’, Lydia fired back, her own lips turned up into a smirk.

Stiles laughed, surprised at how quickly this girl could turn from a little kitten into his own goddamn, wet dream. He couldn’t work her out as easily as he could with others - she was unexpected, a breath of fresh air that had him gasping for more.

So he smiled and inclined his head towards her, silently telling her to take her turn. Lydia tapped a finger to her lip, still grinning as she felt herself relax slightly.

“Ever had a serious relationship?’’ She quirked an eyebrow at him, “Cause I’d put down ten dollars that you haven’t’’.

“Kitten, the last relationship I had was when I was seven and Scott married us in the playground with a birds nest on his head’’, the boy grinned as Lydia let out a laugh - a real one that had her eyes sparkling.

“Hmmm, I knew it’’, Lydia smiled, her gaze settling on Stiles’ in a way that made them both stop for a second. Something inside Stiles pulled him forward, his body gravitating towards Lydia until she was in front of her, almost standing between her legs.

“My turn’’, Stiles murmured, the air suddenly turning warm. Lydia could only nod, her hands suddenly feeling useless as she tried to stop herself from reaching out and touching him. He was so close.

“Are you happy with your boyfriend?’’

The seriousness of the question hit Lydia like a brick to the chest and all playfulness was sucked out of the room. She looked at the boy, wondering why he had asked that, what had gave her away.
Their gaze met for what seemed like hours and no one spoke. The silence stretched on as Lydia debated on what to do; she wanted to yell at the boy, ask him who he thought he was, how dare he? They were hardly more than strangers, why should she discuss it with him?

Instead, she bit her lip and gave a half hearted shrug that she quickly turned into a jerky nod. Her movements were stiff, unsure. Her voice was low and her words were broken when she spoke, her eyes on her nails that she picked at timidly.

“Long distance is hard, you know?’’, she pursed her lips, “He’s still back in California. He gets - Jackson gets worried sometimes...’’

Stiles immediately took the word ‘’worried’’ and changed it to ‘’paranoid’’ in his head. He hard heard Lydia’s conversation the night of the party, the tirade of angry words that had fallen from her lips and into the phone. But he nodded, feigning ignorance and knowing that really, he had no right to argue with her anyway.
He hadn’t even known what had made him ask such a question - he had surprised himself when the words came from his mouth. What had shocked him more, was the fact the Lydia had answered and not screamed at him.

Stiles took another step forward, deliberate and bold. He found himself between Lydia’s legs, her small body only an inch away from his own as she gripped the counter top with white knuckles. Stiles heard her hold in her gasp and it only left her lungs when her lips seemed to part on their own accord. He watched them, captured by the way her full bottom one became caught by her teeth. He wanted to do that.

His hands found their way to either side of her body, his palms flat on the surface she sat on but not touching her - he couldn’t touch her. He would break if he did.
But the silky material of her shirt brushed his arms, teasing him in the same way that her open collar did. Smooth skin the colour of ivory teased him, her bare legs that peeked out of her shorts screamed at him, willing him to place his hands there, to run his rough palms on the insides of her thighs. But he didn’t.

The room was warm, the atmosphere was thick and Lydia was finding it hard to breath. Stiles was close, she was breathing in the same breath as him - his scent making the air heady. Mint and something slightly smoky made her lips tingle and she was desperate to pull him closer and run away all at once.
His fingers grazed the edge of her thighs as he placed his hands on either side of her body, and again, her mind was filled with thoughts of how they would feel on her skin, his thumb coaxing her lips apart, his palms gripping her hips, spreading her legs…

“Do I make you nervous, Kitten?’’

“It’s my turn’’, Lydia whispered, referring to the game they had been playing. Her voice had become unsteady, breathy and they fell onto Stiles lips like honey.

He smiled, “I’m not playing anymore’’.

Lydia’s eyes were wide and Stiles watched them turn from a bright, clear green to the colour of the forest at night. The girl was all shadows and angles as Stiles moved into her, dying to trace his lips across her sharp cheekbones, the arch of her eyebrows, the dip in her cupid’s bow.
Thunder rolled in the distance and lightning lit up the sky. Stiles’ thumb brushed the denim of Lydia’s short and she swore the lights in the apartment flickered. She was ready to explode, and she was sure she was going to take the world with her.

Stiles’ head dipped to meet her own, their noses only a centimeter away from brushing. Lydia held her breath and the boy bit back a groan.

“You haven’t answered me, Lydia’’.

“I have a boyfriend’’, she murmured, her eyes trained on the boys lips. They quirked under her gaze, lifting into that f*cking half smirk he had used on her so many times.

“I know - you’ve told me many times’’, Stiles chuckled. He refused to let the talk of her relationship status deter him. He was too close, too wrapped up in the way she seemed to edge herself forward - into him and his lips.

He let out a sigh that washed over her parted mouth and he smiled at the freckles that dotted her nose. He wanted to kiss them.
“Now, are you telling me that you have a boyfriend because Idomake you nervous?’’ Stiles bit his lip, trying to contain his sh*t eating grin, “Or because you need to remind yourself?’’

Lydia had been close to melting underneath him, stuck between his arms by his eyes that were turning into pools of rich chocolate. Thunder crashed behind the windows again and she came to her senses. She slid to the floor, pushing past Stiles who looked at her with disappointment in his eyes.
Lydia rounded on him, suddenly being the one with the upper hand. She backed him into the counter, pinning him there with fierce eyes and an accusing finger that stabbed his chest.

“Is this your thing, huh?’’ She bit out, working herself up into a little hurricane of anger in his kitchen, “Is this what you do? Hit on other guy’s girlfriends for fun?’’

“Easy Kitten’’, Stiles told her, overcome with the urge to cup his crotch in fear of being pummeled, “That’s not what I’m all about-’’

Lydia scoffed, throwing her hands in the air as she turned on her heel and backed herself into the breakfast bar. She suddenly needed to get far, far away from this boy.

“I’m not a little game you can play, Stiles’’, Lydia warned.

The boy shook his head, filled with the need to tell her she was wrong, that he wasn’t playing her. But he couldn’t get a word in. She continued ranting, her little hands flying frantically as she pointed to him and all other ways.

He finally stopped the girl by striding over to her, grabbing her hands in his. She was breathing heavily from her yelling and her chest heaved. Stiles couldn’t work out why his was doing the same when he hadn’t uttered a word.
Lydia was suddenly silent and all she could feel was his warm hands wrapped around her own. They engulfed her, her little fists captured in his palms and she felt too small, too vulnerable to his touch. His breath was heavy as he stared down at her and Lydia swore under her breath.

He made her head hurt and her body ache.

“Listen up, Kitten, I don’t f*ck around in other people’s relationships - that’s not my thing’’, he bit out, “But let’s not lie about the fact that we both find each other attractive and you weren’t exactly pushing me away’’.

Lydia’s jaw dropped open and she stuttered helplessly, ripping away her hands from his hold. He let her go but didn’t back away, smirking as she seemed lost for words.

“Go ahead, try and deny it’’, Stiles leaned into her, one arm reaching around each side of her body to close her in again. He gripped the counter top with tight hands, his body reacting too much to the heat that radiated from her.
His lips sought out her ear from under her loose curls, “I dare you’’, he whispered.

Lydia was silent and she found that even when Stiles lips stretched into a smug grin before her eyes, she still couldn't find it in her to lie. The boy standing before her was six feet of messy hair and golden eyes that made her feel naked under his stare. He had hands that she wanted on her skin, a smirk that she wanted to feel against her own lips.
She couldn't lie about that, he would never believe her even if she tried to .

"Stiles', Lydia whispered, unsure of what she actually wanted to say.

The boy arched his brow at her, willing her to continue. His gaze was on her lips, watching her bit at them before pulling her lower one into her mouth. He almost swore into them.

Before Lydia could say another word, take another breath - her cell phone rang. It buzzed angrily across the table before it dropped to the floor with a clatter, still ringing obnoxiously in the small apartment.
Lydia froze, feeling Stiles' breath fall heavily on her cheek. Her wide eyes met his own, and coldness drenched her. She felt nothing but guilt as she walked from under his arm, feeling him turn to watch her walk away from him. She stepped into the room, stopping when the phone lay at her feet. Lydia stooped down and picked it up - clicking the screen before she brought it to her ear.

"Jackson, hi''.

Chapter 10: Chapter Ten

Chapter Text

She’s got that good girl faith
and a tight, little skirt’’.

It had been almost two weeks since Lydia’s study session with Stiles. Jackson had called her, interrupting something that she knew shouldn’t have happened. Guilt had flooded her system when she saw her caller ID, his name flashing up at her.
She had answered, only to quickly regret. Jackson had been drunk, slurring down the phone to her. Telling her helovedher, hemissedher,why couldn’t she come home?It had taken Lydia several minutes to try and placate him, to tell him that loved him too, that she missed him as well - but she couldn’t come home. It didn’t work like that.

So Jackson had gotten angry, yelling at her through the device and making the girl flinch as if he was standing beside her, not three thousand miles away. Lydia had quickly hung up, too aware of Stiles who was still in the kitchen behind her. Her cheeks were warming and she had stared at the floor when she told him she needed to leave. Her phone was stuffed into her bag, sitting silently like a time bomb, just waiting to go off again.

He hadn’t stopped her, he didn’t try and make her stay. Instead he had nodded, watching her with careful eyes. The boy had grabbed his car keys and helped her gather her things. They had walked in silence together, down to the car park and into the rain. It bounced off of the pavement and dulled the world with it’s deafening roar.

Stiles had grabbed Lydia’s hand, making her run with him across the lot. They had raced through puddles, water bouncing around their ankles and soaking them right through. When Stiles led them to an old, banged up jeep, Lydia didn’t have the energy to question his vehicle choice. He opened the door for her and helped her in and Lydia noticed how his eyes burned through her, taking in her wet hair and the way her jumper stuck to her skin.

It had only taken them ten minutes to drive across campus and the sky raged above them the whole time. Stiles had parked theJeepas close to Lydia’s buildingas he could. He’d killed the engine, letting the sound of the surround theJeep.
Lydia had been warm, comfortable in the car. It was cosy in a way, almost soothing as she listened to the rain. Stiles hadn’t said a word to her and after the night’s events, she was okay with that. She was in the midst of gathering her things when Stiles eventually spoke.
The girl had had her fingers wrapped around the door handle, ready to run to her doorway. Her key card was already in her grip, her still wet jumper sleeves falling down past her fingers. When she felt Stiles hand touch her knee, she jumped slightly, turning to look at him.

“You know, you should be having fun right now’’.

The boy’s words were vague, and his voice was soft - Lydia hardly heard him over the sound of the car being pelted with raindrops. She gazed up at him curiously, watching as he smiled at her. It was different from the smirks he usually threw at her, or the playful grins she had seen earlier that night.
This smile had looked tired, weary. He tapped out a beat on the steering wheel with his fingers, a small distraction from the words that seemed to be stuck in his throat.

“What is that supposed to mean?’’ Lydia prompted, leaning forward to look at him. Her hair hung heavily from its bun, feeling damp around her neck. Loose curls fell around her face, framing her big eyes and making her look wild.

Stiles found it hard to look at her, her perfume mixed with the scent of rain in the small cab had Stiles fidgeting, on edge. Her bare legs were stretched out in front of her and he drove across the campus imagining all the ways he could pull her over the gear stick and onto his lap.

“I mean’’, Stiles winced awkwardly, fearing she would yell at him again, and in a way, he kind of wanted her to. “What I’mtryingto say is, you’re obviously not happy with this guy...’’

Stiles swallowed hard, wondering if he had crossed the line again. The girl parted her lips as if to speak, but instead she let out a sigh. She slumped against the chair, her head leaning back as she closed her eyes. Lydia was silent for a few moments, taking in what the boy had said to her - what this still, practically a stranger to her, had told her about her own relationship.

She surprised both herself and Stiles when she nodded.

“You’re not happy?’’ Stiles asked, his voice low and nothing more than a murmur. The situation suddenly felt so serious, so intimate in their little cocoon shielded from the rain.

Lydia shrugged and let out a humourless laugh, pulling her phone out of her bag and glancing at the four missed calls on her screen. She tapped a polished nail against it, as if deciding what to do, what to say, what to think.

“Why are you still with him?’’ Stiles asked her, turning to look at Lydia. She gave in and met his gaze, surprised to see how soft his eyes had turned, how warm they looked despite the lack of light both the car and the sky.

“He’s familiar, he’s routine’’, Lydia twisted her lips into a sad smile, glancing up at Stiles through her lashes, “He’s the only guy I’ve been with - he’s the guy who told me that he was going to marry me when we were just seventeen’’.

Stiles smiled slightly, noticing how she perked up at the memory. But then her frown returned and she picked at the frayed edges of her shorts.

“But then he started getting too invested in his sports, took lacrosse too seriously - spent too much time in the gym’’, she sighed again, smirking up at Stiles, “I became a possession, a prize. I was the trophy that sat on his knee at parties and kissed him good luck in front of his team mates’’.

Lydia looked down, some of her hair falling loose and shielding her face. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes but she refused to let them fall, she would not cry in front of his boy. She wouldn’t feel weak - she wasn’t a kitten, she was a f*cking tigress.

She sniffed slightly and looked back up, watching the raindrops race down the window. Lydia felt his gaze on her, waiting for her to say anything, something. But Stiles was patient and he sat silently.

“I still love him. I think’’, Lydia frowned to herself, her own words feeling slightly wrong in her mouth, “I don’t think I love him like I used to though - he’s not the same person. I’m notinlove with him… Does that make sense?’’

Stiles cleared his throat, not really expecting her to ask him a question, or even want his opinion on such a topic. But she was looking up at him so earnestly, that his heart did a little dance in his chest.

“Uh yeah, of course. Of course that makes sense’’, he told her, “You care about him - that’s expected. It doesn’t mean you love him though. Even if you did, you still don’t have to put up with his bullsh*t’’.

His last few words came out slightly harsher than he intended and he cringed, glancing at the girl apologetically. But Lydia simply smiled.

“I’m tired, y’know? Being with him makes me tired’’, she let out another deep sigh, turning her head until her cheek was pressed against the headrest and her eyes were settled on Stiles’. “I don’t know what it’s like to be single, to have fun, to not care’’.

Stiles let out a little grin, “At the age of nineteen, I would definitely recommend you do that soon’’.

“I don’t want to hurt him though. I don’t think I could tell him this’’.

Stiles hummed thoughtfully, his eyes trained on the damp hair that clung to Lydia’s cheek, curling around her jaw. With a hesitant hand, he reached out and tucked it behind her ear. He was closer now, and when he spoke, Lydia felt his low murmurs fall on her neck. His golden eyes met her own and his words made her hold her breath.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do’’, Stiles’ fingers brushed her bare leg as he leaned on her seat, “You should think about what you want’’.

Lydia smirked despite herself, already regretting the words she spoke before they left her rebellious lips, “Are you offering your own kind of fun to me?’’

___________________________________________

Stiles had uttered those words to her over a week ago but they still rang clearly in her head. She had merely smirked in reply that night, refusing to let him know how much he had affected her.
But things had been different since then. Their night of arguing, flirting, yelling and dangerous words had led to an almost friendship.

It had been a strange transition, but her and Allison fit in easily with the three boys. With Allison and Scott's relationship with solidifying each day, it was almost natural that Lydia hung out with Stiles more.Isaac joined them occasionally and every now and again she would see Kira - but for the most part - it was her and Stiles.

Jackson had called her one night when they were in the library together, constantly trying to outwit each other and actually attempting to get some studying done.
She had answered, watching Stiles raise his eyebrows and look away. The boy had been someone she could vent to easily, especially when Allison was otherwise occupied...
He would listen to how Jackson would text her all day, arguing about when she was going to visit, why couldn't she come home for the weekend.

Stiles had never met this guy, but he was quickly forming an intense dislike for him. He constantly kept himself awake at night as he tried to convince himself it had nothing to do with jealousy - he cared about Lydia. As a friend. A friend who he wanted to take up against a wall and sixteen different ways in his bed.

Despite their newly found friendship, their flirting hadn't ceased. In fact, Stiles was sure it had only gotten worse. If they weren't nipping at each other like cat and dog, they were making Isaac uncomfortable with their unnecessary touching and their looks that they held for too long.

Stiles couldn't go longer than a day without calling her Kitten, making her blush and hearing her laugh. He lived to rile her up, only to charm her back down with smiles and flirtatious comments. It’s how they worked. Tension was always palpable between them, their chemistry undeniable. It didn’t go unnoticed by their friends either. Scott and Allison would nudge each other like children as they observed their friends picking at each other, pushing each other to the side so there was enough room for them to squeeze in next to each other. Stiles would play with Lydia’s curls distractedly, his fingers gently lifting the auburn strands up as if they were made of silk. And the girl would let him, not batting an eyelid when his arm could curl round the back of her chair at lunch, when their knees would bump in the cafe.

Stiles hated him. He turned his feisty little Kitten into a silent shell of herself, and Stiles could easily imagine letting his slam into Jackson’s jaw if they ever met.

___________________________________________

Both Lydia’s lips and eyebrow quirked at his greeting, her head turning slightly to face him. She wasn’t all that surprised to find him too close to her - he was always too close to her. His eyes flashed gold and they danced with mischief in front of her.

"Can I help you Stiles?"

"In many,manyways", he grinned wolfishly, taking her book out of her hands and closing it with a quick snap, "but for the time being, you can skip class with me".

Lydia scoffed, taking the book back from his hold and fussing over the fact that he had lost her place. The sleeves of her jumper slipped over her fingers as she thumbed through the chapters and Stiles’ gaze settled on the little floral skirt she wore underneath it, almost hidden by the too-large sweaters she loved. She seemed to have one for every day of the week, all adorably cosy looking - but they made Stiles think of her wearing nothing but one, her long legs bare underneath and how she would look bundled up in his bed.

“I’m not skipping class, Stiles, the doors will be open any minute’’, she told him, looking around at the students who were gathering for Folklore and Mythology.

“Which is why we need to leave now’’, he tugged on her hand, taking her book from her once more as she pouted. He held it away from her grasping reach, looking down at her with eyes that could melt a glacier, “Come on, Kitten, live a little - Scott and Allison are already at ours, we’re watching movies and drinking beer’’.

His lips curled into a smirk as he watched her defences slip. Lydia looked at him, trying not to smile as he realised he had clearly won her over already. The thought of being curled up on the sofa with Stiles nearby beat attending class any day of the week.

“Oh, come on - all we do in that class is go over our project anyway, we can do that tonight, I promise’’, Stiles turned and pulled gently on her ponytail, making her smile and raise her eyebrows at him in doubt.

“We will! I’ll even buy you pizza...’’, he prompted, falling into an easy step with her.

“Fine, throw in some ice cream too and it’s a deal’’, Lydia told him sternly, “And we’re studying in the living room!’’

Stiles smothered a laugh as he nodded, placing his hand on the small of her back and leading her up the stairs to his building. On several occasions, when Lydia had came over to study, he had offered to use the desk space in his bedroom. The first time he mentioned it, the girl had almost fell off of the sofa - she had shook her head so frantically - the idea of being alone with Stiles and in a room with a bed seemed too dangerous to think about it.
Together, they were a bomb waiting to explode, and a bedroom setting seemed like the match they needed to ignite.

“I don’t know why you seem to think I’m so intent on getting you into my bed, Miss Martin’’, Stiles stooped low to murmur in her ear, his voice a sinister combination of warmth, lust and everything but innocence.

“Maybe it’s because you like to tell me you are, at least once a day, Mr Stilinski’’, the girl shot back, rolling her eyes as they climbed the stairwell together.

Stiles chuckled darkly, his eyes landing on the curve of the girls ass as he watched her walk up the stairs ahead of him. Her skirt swished delicately around her thighs and Stiles bit down on his lip to hide the groan he was desperate to let out.

“Kitten, if I really wanted to get you into my bed, you’d already be there and wouldn’t be leaving for days’’.

Lydia let out a soft laugh as she whirled around to face him outside his apartment door. The boy was grinning cheekily, his smirk making his eyes shine. Lydia placed a hand on his chest as she moved into him, looking up from under her lashes as she watched his smirk falter and his Adam’s apple bob.

Her whispered words fell on to his parted lips as he stood silently, transfixed by the little thing in front of him.

“It’s a good job my self-control is pretty strong then, huh?’’, her own words were hushed and sweet, but her eyes deadly and wild.

Stiles laughed, always surprised by her quick wit and sharp tongue, he leaned into her, his fingers curling around the door handle behind her. His body brushed against her own, her chest grazing his as his warm breath moved the hair that curled around her ear.
It was a challenge, a game to them that their friend’s found immensely enjoyable to watch. Who would move away first? Who would give in? Or would they fall the other way, into each other and giving into something else entirely?

It was a game of chicken where the odds were all over the place and the thought of losing, and giving in, didn't seem so bad.

The door opened with a click and Stiles leaned back just in time to see the girl release her full, bottom lip from her teeth. She glanced up to him, her smile giving nothing away as she walked into the apartment and was greeted by Allison and her boyfriend.

“Ha! Itoldyou he would get her to come’’, Allison grinned triumphantly as she threw a piece of chocolate at Scott.

“Says the girl who’s currently ditching class and watching movies with us’’, Allison replied with a smirk. She merely laughed when Lydia tutted and flipped her off.

“You need to work on your willpower Lyds’’, Scott told her through a mouthful of chips, handing her her own packet to nibble on.

Lydia blushed at his words and the use of his nickname for her being used around their friends. Allison merely grinned at her, already aware of what their conversation probably held. Lydia would come home to their dorm flustered and pink after every study session, stumbling over words as she told Ally how the boy was a complete flirt and intent on making her combust.

Lydia simply hummed in reply, not trusting herself to open her lips. He grinned at her silence, watching how Scott shook his head at the pair. Their flirtatious attitude had went above and beyond what he anticipated and the boy wasn’t at all surprised when Stiles let himself drop into the cushions beside Lydia, their bodies leaning into each other in a way that they probably didn’t realise.

Lydia took the can of soda Stiles offered her with a smile of thanks, setting into the sofa as he sat beside her, throwing an arm over the back of her. His fingers grazed her shoulder, gently playing against the sensitive skin of her neck. It was almost natural for the boy, his hands constantly gravitating to her body, however innocent the touch was. But it set Lydia’s body alight, her skin burning and her chest aching with need.

But he didn't always seem to notice. Touching this girl had been a necessity to him, ever since the first day the collided in the bathroom. He was sure she would slap him if he pulled her onto his lap, so settled for any little gesture he could get away with. And that was enough, for now.
She settled into him as she sipped from her juice and Scott started the movie.

“Allison? What’s wrong?’’

Scott’s question gained the attention of both Stiles and Lydia, and they sat forward in their seats. Allison turned, shock apparent on her face. She swallowed, a bubble of nervous laughter breaking free from her throat. She looked at her friend uneasily, discomfort and disbelief etched into her pretty features.

Lydia slowly stood from the couch, walking over to her friend feeling instantly worried and confused, “Allison?’’

She joined her friend at the window, wondering what the hell she had seen. She looked out onto the courtyard the building overlooked, the usually busy campus now quiet and only littered with a few students. Classes were on and the sun had disappeared behind grey clouds, covering the pathways with shadows and the threat of rain.

Lydia spotted a figure moving quickly and purposely across the green People were moving out of the pathway as the boy hauled a heavy bag over his shoulder, pushing past them with a scowl. An extremely familiar scowl.

Lydia’s breath was sucked from her lungs and her stomach dropped.

“Are you f*cking kidding me?’’, she cursed under her breath, feeling Allison’s worried stare on her.

Stiles and Scott joined them, still confused and concerned over what was happening. They stood behind the two girls and Lydia felt Stiles’s hand on her waist as he leaned over her shoulder, his eyes searching for some kind of clue.

“Lydia, what’s going on?’’, Scott asked from Allison’s side, looking from one girl to another with an expectant gaze.

Lydia’s hands went to her temples as she continued to stare out of the window with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“Uh, it’s my boyfriend’’, she felt Stiles still behind her, his body tensing, “Jackson. It’s Jackson’’.

Chapter 11: Chapter Eleven

Chapter Text

“She was broken glass, but he still touched her,
Knowing he would get cut’’.

Anger flooded her system, adrenaline was pumping through her veins. She was on fire, a tiny hurricane of rage as she barrelled out of the apartment and down the stairwell. Lydia took each step two at a time, her little body hurling through the air until she burst out of the front doors. She hadn’t heard her friends yelling for her or their own footsteps pounding after her own. The girl hadn’t felt Stiles catch her hand and she hadn’t felt hers slip from his grasp.
She was confused, irritated, frustrated.

“Jackson?’’

Jackson, now recognising the long curls of strawberry blonde, turned on his heel and made his way back down the courtyard. His bag jostled on his back and he was frowning as he adjusted it, attempting to balance his cell and what looked like a campus map in both hands.

His girlfriend was now only a few feet in front of him, her usually perfect hair was swept into a messy ponytail, her jumper was too big and her skin was less tanned from the lack of Californian sun.
He didn’t like it.

Jackson stood before her, dropping his bag at her feet and pretending that Allison and the two unknown boys behind Lydia, weren’t actually there.

“What the hell are you doing here Jackson? Why-’’, Lydia was quickly cut off, a campus map pushed into her face.

Jackson stabbed at the paper with an angry finger, his voice an irritable growl when he spoke.

“Well it’s not like you’re in class right now’’, he glared over her shoulder at the two boys, “What were you doing?’’ His voice held so much suspicion that it made Lydia’s eyes water.

“Having a break with some friends - we were watching a movie Jackson, for god’s sake’’, she suppressed the urge to roll her eyes.

“Well, you know Allison’’, she gestured lamely to the girl who arched one perfectly plucked eyebrow back at the boy. Jackson ignored her.
“This is Scott, Ally’s-’’, Lydia paused, looking at her friend for confirmation but Scott stepped in.

He offered a hand to Jackson as he finished Lydia’s sentence with a polite smile, “Allison’s boyfriend. Nice to meet you’’.

Jackson gripped the boy’s hand roughly, shaking it as he looked him up and down. When the boy was released from Jackson’s grip, the brought his arm around Allison’s waist, smiling when she squeezed him back. Her cheeks were pink.

“And this is Stiles’’, Lydia told her boyfriend, willing herself not to blush, not to give anything away, “He’s Scott’s roommate-’’

The boy didn’t take it, instead sneering at Stiles with a look of contempt. Lydia felt her body heat up, her cheeks flushing with annoyance and embarrassment. She tugged her hands from Jackson’s, looking at Stiles with an apology in her eyes. The boy simply shrugged letting his hand drop and keeping his confident smirk on his lips.

“I’m Lydia’s partner for our Folklore and Mythology class’’, Stiles explained helpfully, his gaze darting from the girl and back to her boyfriend, “We met on Lydia’s first night here in the ba-’’

Stiles bit his lip to cover his laughter as Lydia stepped out in front of Jackson, wide eyed and effectively cutting her friend off. Her boyfriend had frowned, the suspicion in his gaze only deepening as he took in Lydia’s flushed appearance and the boy’s smothered chuckle.

“I’m not stupid buddy, I know what’s going on. You’re the dude that’s always with my girlfriend, in the library, at her dorm, at your place. I’m already sick of hearing your f*cking name’’, Jackson’s eyes flashed dangerously, “Yeah, I know exactly what’s going on’’.

Lydia knew it was going to happen before it did, but she didn’t have enough time to react before Jackson’s fist sailed through the air and landed onto Stiles cheek with a crack.

Scott jumped out of the way, pushing Allison backwards and away from the uproar that he knew was about to unfold. Lydia had latched into Jackson’s arm once more, pulling him back from Stiles with every piece of strength she possessed, she was yelling obscenities, her eyes wide and her gaze on Stiles.

The boy had been jerked backwards by the hit, the pain exploding through his face like a bullet shattering glass. He heard the sound of bone hitting bone, his eyes seeing stars that seemed to rain down on the campus. When he looked back up his irises were the colour of storm clouds. He grinned and felt his lip split, the taste of metal lining in his lips.

Danny. The name registered with Stiles and when he watched the guy walk over to stand next to Allison he clicked. He was a friend of the girls, the boy he had been told about, the third figure in every photo in their dorm.

Stiles could already feel the bruise blossoming on his cheekbone, under his eye was swelling and the dull ache set in, making his jaw tight and his vision blurry. He was going to have one hell of a black eye.

Lydia was still clinging to Jackson’s jacket, pulling at him, trying to make him move. She avoided eye contact with everyone but him, silently pleading with the boy to go with her. Finally, he relented.

Stiles spit out the blood that had pooled in his mouth, watching in stoney silence as Lydia walked away from him, trying her hardest to keep up with her boyfriend who was pacing furiously across the campus.

___________________________________________

He stood there, utterly confused at the girls appearance so late at night and after what happened. He was sure she was angry at him and he found he was almost nervous under her gaze. He played with the drawstrings off his cotton sweatpants, watching her carefully.
When she crumbled under his stare, Stiles softened instantly, holding his hand out to her across the apartment. The girls eyes filled with tears and she walked in as Isaac closed the door quietly behind her. Lydia went straight to the boy, taking his hand and letting him lead her to his bedroom.

“Uh, we broke up’’, Lydia’s voice was hoarse, as if she had been crying for a while, or yelling, Stiles thought bitterly.

She cleared her throat, looking around the room through the messy waves that fell into her face. She tucked a strand behind her ear, her cheeks turning pink as her eyes fell onto the unmade bed, “Well, I mean - I broke up with him’’.

Stiles was almost frightened at how his stomach dropped and his heart soared at her words. For under a month he had known this girl - this fiery, goddamn gorgeous, little spitfire that made his dick hard and his cheeks hurt from grinning. But she had been untouchable, taken.
This, this news, this bomb she had just dropped, had changed everything and he wasn’t sure what to do, what to say.

Lydia wrung her hands together, looking up at Stiles through her lashes. They stood in silence together and Stiles lips tried to form words but he was still shocked, still amazed.

“Say something, Stiles, please’’, Lydia asked him, her voice soft and unsure.

“Uh, yeah - I mean, are you okay? Is everything okay?’’ Stiles pushed off of the desk slowly, taking a few steps forward before stopping. He wanted to go to her but doubt filled his head. He was at such a loss.
Usually, when he had a girl in his room, her feet never touched the floor before they were in his bed. He was so unsure, so nervous around Lydia. His lips failed to smirk, to say something smart, to try and make her pout.

Stiles ran his hand down her back soothingly, giving her a hug for the very first time. It was almost monumental, the feel of her pressed up against him in something so innocent as a hug between friends. But their unconventional friendship had already resulted in them being in the shower together, crashing together half dressed and soaking wet.

The boy didn’t know what he liked better.

The boy nodded, swallowing heavily as Lydia took his hand and led him to his bed. His mind raced from zero to a hundred, the thoughts that flooded him were overwhelming as Lydia pushed him down to sit on the mattress. She knelt in front of him with a shadow of a smirk, almost like she knew what he was probably thinking.

“I’m sorry’’, Lydia murmured, her fingers still on his face, dropping almost on their own accord to his jawline. She followed the strong curve of it, watching how his Adam’s apple bobbed before he spoke.

“You don’t need to apologise, Lydia - I shouldn’t have… I was out of line’’, he grimaced, “I’ve been told that I can sometimes be quick to anger’’.

Stiles let out a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to rid himself of his thought and the intense heat that had flooded his body.

“Uh, no - I can’t say it’s a habit of mine’’.

“Good, keep it that way’’, Lydia told him firmly. She rose to her feet, her eyes downcast and looking down at the boy almost shyly. It was like they were back to square one all over again - she would forget about about all of their arguments, how he would wind her up something terrible - because suddenly, he was a gorgeous, half dressed boy in front of her.

He gave her whiplash and she never knew what way was up with Stiles - as every day ended and a new one began, she found herself loving it. He brought playfulness to her life. He was sharp and quick; a boy with messy hair who was full of dirty words and filthier smirks. He had became a necessity to her.

Whatever she was feeling must have shown on her face because when Stiles looked up at her, it was with sparkling eyes and the ghost of a smirk. As she blushed, his lips stretched into a grin and he leaned back onto his hands, making his stomach tighten under her gaze.
He reached out to take her fingers in his hold, his rough touch playing with them in his palm.

“Kitten?’’

“Hmm?’’, Lydia couldn’t speak, she couldn’t think, she couldn’t breath.

“Do I make you nervous?’’

“Do I make you nervous?’’

Lydia glanced at him, meeting his hooded eyes with her own. The blush he loved so much rose to her cheeks, making her look too good to be real. Stiles could have sworn that sh*t like that only happened in bad romance novels, in trashy erotic that chicks loved.She was a walking wet dream.

Lydia nodded, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes dropping from his gaze to his lips, scanning over his bruise, the slope of his nose, the curve of his jaw.

If Lydia had exhaled at the wrong time, she wouldn’t have heard his next question - he was so quiet.

“Why?’’

“Because you make me want things I don’t think I’m ready for’’, Lydia whispered, her eyes trained on his lips and adoring the way they fell into a pout when he was listening to her, “I’ve just broken up with my boyfriend of three years and all I can think about isyou. But I just need you to be my friend right now. I know that’s unfair’’.

He swore quietly, slowly dragging his hand back to her knee where he rubbed soft circles.

“I get it, Kitten’’, he looked at her with a mix of emotions that she couldn’t quite decipher, “You know I’m your friend’’.

Stiles returned the soft smile Lydia gave him, his hand moving from her leg to the safety of her sweater covered arm. He rubbed long strokes up and down, an action that made Lydia instantly relaxed. He paused, letting one of her curls tangle around his finger.

“I’ll be whatever you need me to be’’.

Chapter 12: Chapter Twelve

Chapter Text

Okay, so I REALLY struggled with this chapter - I couldn’t get the words I wanted down. And I also didn’t do the scene I wasDYINGto do. So let’s call this a filler, all accept that’s a bit crap and move on. Hopefully the next chapter will be full of what you’ve been waiting for…

“I’d probably still adore you,
with my hands around your neck”.

Lydia woke up to a ringing phone, sun streaming through the window and a warm, bare chest. She let out small sound, not quite awake enough to realise her surroundings. She curled into the heat she was pressed up against, strong arms coming from seemingly nowhere to cradle her into it. It was all hard planes and boyish, smelling skin - a scent that she was so familiar with. Her cell rang again, and she moaned, her brow furrowing and her lashes fluttering as she awoke.

Stiles.

“Morning, Kitten’’.

Lydia licked her lips before she spoke, her throat feeling too tight and her chest burning with need. Her whole body yelled at her with sensations she hadn’t felt with her own boyfriend for over a year - her bare thighs ached for friction, to be touched, anything.

“Morning’’, she whispered, “I didn’t mean - I mean, I didn’t plan on falling asleep. Here’’. Her eyes were wide and full of doubt as she peeked up at the boy from under her lashes, “Sorry’’.

Lydia recalled Stiles putting a film on his laptop, an old comedy that was practically ignored as they spoke throughout the night, their voices getting softer as the morning had drawn near. The girl couldn’t remember falling asleep.

“Huh’’, was all Lydia could manage, her soft, pink lips falling into a small ‘o’. Silence surrounded them once more and the girl found herself sinking into the soft pillow, her fingertips edging closer to Stiles hand, the one that lay so close to her hip.
She didn’t know what time it was, she wasn’t sure if she was late for class - in fact, Lydia was sure she had forgotten what day of the week it was. And before she could ask, Stiles’ bedroom door burst open, sending them both to the other side of the bed, their hearts racing.

Isaac stood there with a devilish smirk on his handsome face, one eyebrow arched as he looked between the two on the bed. He leaned against the door frame, folding his arms and calling casually over his shoulder.

“Found her!’’

“Are you okay?’’, Allison whispered, shuffling towards the other girl and leaning her chin on Lydia’s shoulder.

Lydia nodded, a small smile gracing her lips, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine’’, she glanced at Stiles who had his back to her, the muscles there rippling slightly as he moved.
“Trust me, I didn’t mean to fall asleep - sorry’’, she whispered guiltily.

“Almost half eight’’, the replied, “You’re so lucky that your best friend brought you a change of clothes, aren’t you?’’

And then, as quickly as they had appeared, they were gone. The room was bathed in silence once more, the sounds of Isaac and Scott arguing in the kitchen were muted behind the closed door and Lydia swore she could hear her own heartbeat. They were alone again and Stiles had turned around, leaning against his desk and looking at her through his lashes.
The sun behind him bathed his body in golden light, his muscles rippling under his skin as he moved slightly, his chest rising softly as he breathed. Lydia was overwhelmed, her senses suddenly too alert, too aware of this boy. Looking at Stiles Stilinski was like looking at an eclipse with nothing to protect you from it’s glow.

___________________________________________

Stiles had insisted on walking the girl to class, telling her blushing face that he was going to the science wing anyway, it wasn’t a big deal. But he had lied, it had felt like an extremely big deal. Stiles wasn’t used to waking up next to a girl after a whole night of peaceful sleep.
On the rare occasion that he did bring a girl back to his bed, they never slept and by morning, they were almost always gone. Usually, he preferred their place, their beds or couches. Or his Jeep, somewhere dark and quiet were they wouldn’t be interrupted.
He had never woken up to someone curled around him, his hands touching all of the bare, smooth skin that he could find. Malia was usually one to try and chance her luck, the girl was always intent on making her hooks up with Stiles into something more. She sometimes tried to bend the rules - Lydia tore them down and ripped them up without even knowing they were there. The boy was a goner.
Knowing that his day had started with his legs intertwined with Lydia’s set him off balance and when he walked out into the fresh, morning air with her, he felt a bubble of something new blossom in his chest.

They walked down the steps together, Stiles already mentally cursing Allison for bringing Lydia a short, floaty dress to wear. It grazed her thighs, showing off long legs that Stiles had learned he preferred tangled in his sheets. He turned to the girl, trying to ignore the fact that his two roommates were staring down at them, their grinning faces pressed against the living room window on the fourth floor.

So he stepped back, his arm brushing Lydia’s as she pretended to inspect her nails, her gaze set downwards. Stiles placed a warm hand on the small of her back, gaining her attention and making Erica raise her eyebrows. Lydia felt Stiles palm sear into her skin, the warmth radiating through the soft material of her dress and leave electricity behind.
She raised her chin, meeting the stare of the five foot seven goddess in front of her.

“Erica this is Lydia’’, Stiles shared an awkward glance with the strawberry blonde, his words catching in his throat, “my friend. My friend - Lydia’’.

Stiles groaned, one hand pinching the bridge of his nose. Lydia was beetroot and something dangerous flashed in her eyes. She retracted her hand and went back to gazing at anywhere but the two other people she stood with.

“Relax, Stilinski, if she’s your friend, I’m sure she knows all about your ways by now’’, Erica chuckled, thriving off of the tension that radiated between them. She turned to Lydia again, looking the younger girl up and down, “Besides, I’m surprised you’re not all over this little thing’’.

Lydia looked up with wide eyes, watching the blonde give her an appraising glance. Erica tilted her head to the side, a wicked grin reaching her lips, “You’re just his type’’, she told Lydia before walking between the two of them and towards the doors.
She stopped suddenly as if she had another thought and leaned down from her tall heels. Brushing one of Lydia’s wild curls over her shoulder, her eyes gleamed and she told the freshman with a confident wink, “And mine’’.

“Well, I got horribly embarrassed and you got hit on by a girl who does body shots in her spare time’’, Stiles grinned as Lydia blushed brighter at his words, “Doesn’t seem fair, does it?’’

“Sound like someone’s just jealous’’, Lydia mocked, her eyes sparkling.

“Well, thank you for walking me to class’’, she inspected the ground, her battered converse toeing the worn carpet, “and thank you for last night’’.

Something flickered in Lydia’s eyes before she nodded, turning with a small wave to the classroom doors.

“Wait!’’

Lydia watched how the words fell softly from his lips, his hand faltering from the dip in her body before it decided to stay there, his fingers gathering the soft material of her dress in his gentle grip. The dangerous gleam returned to his eyes, the one that Lydia discovered the first night she met him, and again in their impromptu shared shower. It was the look he gave her when she got too close, when she teased him and argued with him. it was the look she found on his face when she woke up in bed next to him that morning.

Her breath faltered, dying in her throat and she licked her lips, unable to move away.

“I really need to study’’, she murmured, “we didn’t get round to that last night’’.

A smile graced the boys lips and his eyes followed the little fidgeting movements her hands made between them. She was nervous and because of the night before, Stiles knew why.

“Do I make you nervous?’’

The girl had nodded.

“Why?’’

“Because you make me want things I don’t think I’m ready for’’.

Lydia let out a little laugh despite herself, “In your goddamn dreams, Stilinski’’.

Stiles grinned, knowing she would say yes. His hand on her waist tightened slightly, deliciously so. It made Lydia think of all the different ways he could hold her there and all the reasons why he would.
Her body burned.

“Fine’’, she told him, her body stance defiant, her eyes blazing and her words trembling - she was a goddamn mess and she loved it, “I’ll see you after class’’.

Chapter 13: Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Text

“We were victims of the night,
the chemical, physical, kryptonite.
Helpless to the bass and the fading lights.
We were bound to get together’’.

Lydia wasn’t sure when walking into the boys apartment without knocking had become normal. Over the last month, she was a frequent visitor - spending lazy afternoons and long nights studying with Stiles, hanging out with Isaac and Scott and watching endless movies with the girls.So after class, Lydia took the stairs to the fourth floor two at a time, eager to spend time with her friends after an extremely intense lecture on biochemical formulas. She was tired and still emotionally exhausted from what had happened with Jackson.

Her cell told her that since the day before, she had forty two missed calls, sixty eight texts and twenty three voicemails - all from her ex-boyfriend.
Lydia had ignored them all and chose the mature route when she declined to let a furious Allison answer her constantly ringing cell. In the end, she had switched it off. It wasn’t until she had bumped into Danny after class he confirmed that Jackson was on his way back to Beacon Hills.

She had sighed in relief, hugging her friend tightly as she told him thank you at the news. The boy had merely shrugged, rubbing her back softly as he placed a chaste kiss on top of her curls.
He decided to not mention how Jackson had gotten sloppily drunk and yelled at his petrified roommate. It had taken Danny four hours to calm him down before finally leaving him passed out on the floor.

The relaxed feeling didn’t last for long. A mixture of yells and curse floated through the door, and her fingers paused on the handle on the fourth floor of the Davis Building. A series of swears mingled with electronic beeping and when she opened the door to the Stilinski-McCall-Lahey residence, Lydia was greeted with mayhem.

Lydia turned, finding Stiles sitting at the breakfast bar, his hands clasped in front of him as he watched her. A smile was on his lips, a softer version of his trademark smirk but Lydia swore that this one was more dangerous. It melted her and the warm, gold eyes that were paired with it made her feel things that she didn’t want to - not now, notyet- and certainly not in a room full of her friends.

He almost tripped over the stool that he kicked back, patting Malia on the shoulder as he muttered something about ‘’studying’’. Malia watched Lydia carefully and the younger girl was adamant to meet her stare, she wouldn’t let it falter, she wouldn’t drop her own gaze. She noticed how Malia’s blue eyes took her in and it was almost as if Lydia was her prey - the other girl was a predator and she wanted to know her weak spot, how to take her down.

Before Lydia could read to much into the other girls jealousy, Stiles appeared in front of her, taking her hand in his own and grabbing her bag from the floor. He led her through the living room and headed to the hall, ignoring the cat calls that came from their friends.
Lydia couldn’t do anything but blush, her head ducked as Stiles opened his bedroom door. The boy turned and flipped off their friends with a wide grin, telling them that ‘they were studying, to get their minds out of the gutter’.

The door closed behind them and the whistles and hollers from their friend were dulled, and soon, they faded back into the sounds of video games and music.

They were alone again, by the bed that Lydia had woken up in, in the room that she once vowed she would never enter. The situation screamed danger and her body yelled at her in warning. But suddenly, the girl was in too deep and she realised that she wanted nothing more than to be alone with Stiles.
She was single, for the first time in her adult life and she had nothing to feel guilty about. Everything she felt was new and unfamiliar, it excited her and left her reeling.

Lydia was a heady mix of rebellion and curiosity, her fingers ached to reach out to the boy, her lips desperate to feel something against them. Her mind told her no, and deep down, she knew why. Jackson was still a part of her old life that she was getting over, a piece of her childhood that would she would always miss - no matter what.
And the boy in front of her was so different, so new and she didn’t know what to expect. She glanced at the bed, wondering how many girls had been in it before her, how many girls would moan on its sheets after her.

“Kitten, you look like you’re doing anawfullot of thinking over there’’, Stiles told her with a small smile.

She had pulled her hair off of her face during class, tying the unruly waves into a top knot on her head. Stiles took in the slope of her neck, the curve of her jaw, the hollows of her collar bones that peeked out from her dress.

He watched her, watching him, her lips parted and ready to speak. He smirked at her, his elbows leaning on the bed she sat on until there was only a few inches separating them.

“Iwantto kiss you, you know that, right?’’ Lydia’s words were surprising to say the least and Stiles’ eyes flashed with heat before he got them under control.

He didn’t give anything away, and he chose to be truthful to her - to throw what little modesty he had off of the table and not lie to her.
“I do’’, he stated quietly, his voice painfully tight. There was no point denying the obvious, he thought.

Lydia seemed to appreciate his honesty, her lips tilting into a little smirk as she arched one brow at him in a flirtatious manner. She looked down at her nails before glancing back up, her voice small playful.

"Well, because, I mean, we’re attracted to each other...’’

“I believe we’ve discussed it before, yes’’, the boy chuckled, his eyes turning dark and glittering like diamonds trapped in coal.

“And that’s allowed right? I’m allowed to feel that way’’, she professed, her voice gaining strength and passion. She seemed to be talking to herself, battling with her own thoughts as she frowned. Her brow puckered adorably, her bottom lip jutting out into a pout.

Stiles inhaled sharply, his gaze settling on her lips, “No one's stopping you Kitten’’.

“So why do I feel bad?’’

The mood changed, the air becoming still as Stiles let out the breath he had been holding. Lydia looked at him with sad, conflicted eyes. Her fingers fidgeted with a loose thread on his blanket and he took her hand in his own, his thumb rubbing circles into her palm.

“Probably because you’re just out of a long relationship’’, he told her with a half hearted smile, “And you’re not the type of girl to throw yourself at another guy the next day’’.

Lydia only shrugged in reply, words failing her as the noise from the living room grew louder, their friends filling in their tense silence.

Stiles cleared his throat, the sun setting in his eyes as indigo clouds covered the sky outside the window.

"Maybe it's because I'm scared of throwing myself at you".

"Lydia..."

Stiles was left speechless and the tension between them only thickened.It didn’t help that their hands were still intertwined, but the boy couldn’t bring himself to pull away.

“I mean, I don’t know. Maybe, maybe I need to experience being single?’’ Lydia frowned, her fingertips skimming over Stiles’ knuckles, “Besides, I know you don’t do relationships and I don’t want our friendship ruined and do I even want a relationship anyway? Do I want one with you?’’.

She was rambling without much thought but, the implication of her words had Stiles reeling. His mind ticked over quickly, his thoughts jumping from one scenario to another. Lydia in his bed, wrapped around him, waking up beside her every morning, holding her hand, watching her in his apartment, in his clothes.

Some of those thoughts were so alien to him, so unfamiliar that he didn't know how to handle it.

The fact that Lydia was thinking about them, together, as a couple - it confused him. But like he always did, he told the truth. His blunt honesty came with the smirk and the co*cky attitude and Lydia respected it with a fierce passion. So when he responded, she held back her smile that fought to break free.

"We were never really just friends kitten, not even when we first met", Stiles grinned, his eyes still on their joined hands. They were so tiny in his own.

"I'm aware of that", Lydia shrugged, surprising Stiles with her answer.

"You're not going to even try and deny our ridiculous sexual chemistry?" The boy teased, his eyes glinting playfully at her.

Lydia co*cked her head to the side, her smirk slipping from her lips as she turned serious, "No, but I don’t want to be another notch on your belt, Stiles".

Stiles sighed, meeting her gaze, "You wouldn’t be".

"You don’t know that".

The boy let out a breath of a laugh, "Lydia you have no idea what I think about you".

A warm smile crossed her face before it faded, her eyes turning darker as she moved closer to Stiles, "I don't think I'd want to know".

"I think you'd be very intrigued", Stiles chuckled darkly.

The girl shook her head in exasperation, grinning at his words regardless of the seriousness she felt.

"I know what you think of me and my... exploits... but I have a strong feeling that I could never get enough of you, Kitten".

Lydia froze at his admission, her hands stilling in his palm as her stare roamed over his face. His eyes were on her own, golden and deadly serious. His lips weren't smirking, but he bit down on his bottom one and anticipation hung in the air.

It was Lydia's turn, her move. She gulped, too warm in the small bedroom. The sheets underneath seemed to cling to her bare legs and Stiles was suddenly too close, taking up all of the cool air around her.

She let out a heavy, faltering breath and it fell onto his lips.

"I think, Stiles... What I mean is", she swallowed thickly, "I don't wanna take a chance on that. I don't want to ruin what we have. It sounds like a f*cking, terrible cliche but it's true".

Stiles nodded slowly, deciding that he wasn't in a position to argue with her. He was twenty years old and had never had a girlfriend.

He didn't even know if he wanted one. The boy knew for a fact that he would happily sacrifice his Jeep to the depths of hell to have Lydia naked and in his bed. But a relationship seemed terrifying - even with the adorable little thing in front of him.

"Lydia?"

"Hmm?"

"What was the point of this conversation?", Stiles smiled softly, his eyes shining at her as she blushed.

She ducked her head, hiding her pink cheeks as her messy bun brushed against Stiles lips. She looked back up, her face closer than before.

"I think I was supposed to explain that it might be in our best interests to distance ourselves a little-"

"Not likely, Kitten", Stiles scoffed.

"-and maybe not wake up in the same bed again...", Lydia continued with raised eyebrows.

"I can't promise you anything", Stiles grinned.

"But before I could get to that, you distracted me by telling me about all the dirty, naughty thoughts you have about me", Lydia teased, her lips falling into a seductive pout as she made her voice deliberately breathy.

Stiles' chest rumbled as he let out a low growl, his lips quirking into a smirk. She was unreal.

"Isthisus distancing ourselves?" Stiles asked innocently, his nose grazing the tip of her own as he moved even closer to her on the bed. His elbows sunk into the mattress as he leaned in, watching Lydia's pupils dilate under his hooded gaze.

She shook her head wordlessly, her lips falling open slightly as her gaze fell to his own. Stiles let out a curse under his breath and Lydia moved back slightly, the mood broken.

“You’re dangerous, Kitten’’, Stiles said with a harsh laugh, running a hand shakily through his hair. He moved back off of the bed, his body sliding against the duvet before his knees hit the floor again.

“Says you!’’ Lydia shot back, kneeling on the mattress. Her stomach was doing somersaults and she was beginning to think that it physically hurt to look at the boy in front of her.

He grinned before standing, adjusting the front of his jeans and raising his eyebrows at her. He stepped closer, his tall frame towering over her and blocking most of the fading sun that came from the window. He shone in the halo of light around him, but the smirk on his face made him look anything but angelic. His smile was lethal and his eyes called to her, telling her all the things he wanted to do to her.

Stiles’ knee found the bed in front of her and he kept moving forward until Lydia had nowhere to go but down. Her back hit the mattress and her breath left her in a small gasp as Stiles moved over her, his hands found purchase on either side of her head and his legs slotted in between her own. The denim of his jeans rubbed against her bare legs and all of a sudden, Lydia couldn’t remember her own name. The boy on top of her made her forget words - and she wasn’t sure she liked that. No one had caused her to feel this way before. Stiles Stilinski was a walking, talking heart attack - just waiting to happen.

“Do I still make you nervous?’’ Stiles whispered onto her lips.

Lydia nodded, the room bathed in silence as her words became stuck in her throat. Stiles’ loose t-shirt fell forward, the neckline showing off his broad shoulders, his tanned skin. Her body itched to reach up to him, to hook a finger into his collar and pull him down to her. Anything to feel his body against her own. She burned, everywhere.

“Good’’, he told her, “Cause I think you’ve got the power to f*cking kill me, Kitten’’.

He bent his elbows, lowering his body onto Lydia’s until his hips met hers, the slightest bit of friction sending Lydia’s head spinning. Stiles let out a satisfactory hum, his breath coming out too heavy - he was giving away more than he liked.
With any other girl that had been in this position with him, he would have already planted his lips on theirs, taking control and shedding his clothes as he went.

Lydia was a little, strawberry blonde bird underneath him. He was terrified to move to fast, to scare her away and never see her return. She was tiny, fragile and still a little broken from her asshole of an ex. But as always, she surprised him.

“I don’t intend on killing you off just yet’’, she murmured, finally finding her voice. She arched up slightly, her chest brushing his own and capturing the boys full attention. His gaze returned to her lips, searching her eyes before glancing back down to her body that he had trapped beneath him.

“No?’’, he asked her with a laugh.

“Mmm’’, she shook her head, her finger curling into his shirt. Lydia summoned all the courage she had in the world before she brought him down closer to her. Her breath washed his lips as she spoke, adoring the way his mouth fell open and his eyes turned darker than the sky outside.

“I would quite like to enjoy you before I end you’’, she smirked, raising one eyebrow, “Plus, Isaac hasn’t found a suitable place to hide your body yet’’.

Stiles let out laugh that easily found it’s way to his lips. He grinned down at the girl, still astounded over her sharp wit and the way she made him do a three sixty. The little thing below him was really going to end him - and he had never wished for death more than now. If his last view was the gorgeous girl on his bed, he would die a happy man.

“To enjoy me, hm?’’ Stiles repeated, his lips quirked into a sly smile. He leaned down and into her, so close that Lydia could feel the ends of his messy hair fall across his forehead and tickle her own, “Now who’s not behaving Kitten?’’

“Are you referring to the possibility of me murdering you or…?’’

“You know exactly what I’m talking about’’.

There was a beat of silence before Lydia’s eyes flickered closed and the last thing she saw was Stiles’ face inclining towards her.

Then the bedroom door was flung open and he was gone. Stiles left Lydia’s body feeling cold as he backed off and away from her, crossing the room with his hands already pulling nervously on his messy hair.
Lydia sat up, her curls falling free from her top knot and her fingers tugging anxiously at the hem of her dress, wishing it covered more of the flushed skin on her thighs.

Kira stood in the doorway, her hand still on the grasping the handle as she stood frozen, staring into the room with her delicate features twisted into shock. Her little ‘O’ shaped mouth turned into a feline smile before stretching into a grin that made Stiles groan out loud. His fingers were massaging his temples and he winced as Kira opened her mouth to talk.

“Oh. Sorry - was I interrupting something?’’ Kira spoke without any apology in her voice whatsoever and despite the horrendous embarrassment Lydia felt, she struggled to contain her own smile at Kira’s face. If there was ever a person needed to accurately describe the expression “heart eyes’’, it would be Kira in that moment.

“Kira-’’, Stiles all but growled, his eyes glaring at her. He stood uncomfortably, his whole body was tense and it was a stark contrast to how warm he had felt against Lydia.

“f*cking hell, Stiles, don’t burst a vein..’’ Kira laughed at his narrowed gaze, turning her impish grin onto Lydia instead. She eyed the girls heaving chest and mussed up hair and Kira bit down on her tongue to keep from squealing and alerting the whole apartment, “I’m only here to inform you both that we’re all going out tonight’’.

Stiles frowned, looking to Lydia and then back to Kira, “Who’s we?’’

“Well, myself’’, she grinned, “Scott, Isaac, Allison, possibly Danny, Malia and you two’’, she raised her brows and looked entirely too smug, “it looks like you could do with some supervision anyway’’.

Lydia choked on the little noise she made at the back of her throat, staring wide eyed at Stiles who was still glaring at the other girl. She took no offense to his dark looks, only widening her grin as her eyes danced around the room, probably looking for evidence of misbehaving.

“We weren’t doing anything’’, Stiles bit out, very aware of how embarrassed Lydia looked. She was playing with a loose curl, staring at the bedsheet below her with pink cheeks, and Stiles wished Kira would just leave.

“Sure’’, Kira retorted, her voice too high and her words too pronounced, “I’ll let you go back tostudying. We’re leaving in two hours’’.

She slammed the door shut behind her, her long, inky hair bidding them farewell as it swished over her shoulder. They were left in silence once more, the mood effectively broken and the air considerably cooler than it was before. Lydia found it easier to breath and Stiles ran a hand over his face, cursing the existence of his friends and how they didn’t have the ability to knock.

“So’’, Lydia piped up from the bed, “Looks like we’re going out’’, she arched a brow, trying and failing to suppress the smile on her lips.

Stiles chuckled, wondering how the f*ck he was going to survive the night. Vodka, he decided - lots and lots of vodka.

___________________________________________

The large room seemed to move with its own pulse, the throbbing bass acting as an invisible heartbeat, keeping the crowd alive as they danced in their masses.

Lights of pastel and neon shades lit up the room, strobing and flashing in time to the beat before dying out, leaving the couples kissing in the corners of the shadows. The club was packed, bodies moving amongst each the hordes on the dance floor; grinding against each other, arms swaying in the air and hips rolling to the bass line.

Silence had met the girls smirk and it stayed that way until Kira had cleared her throat awkwardly, sending an apologetic glance towards Lydia. Allison had turned in her seat, staring at the blonde with such an attitude that Malia had chosen to look out of the window for the rest of the journey.

Now, standing in the packed club, Lydia regretted her choice to venture outside of the campus. Kira had flung fake ID’s at them, casually telling the two girls that it would be fine, to you know,flirt a little, wink a little.
It had worked as Kira had said it would, and the bouncers guarding the door had let them in without a looking at their cards, instead grinning appreciatively at the foursome.

The girl grabbed her hand and pulled her through the crowd, shimmying her way between dancers and drunk students. For the first time since their impromptu night out was announced, Lydia grinned. She looked over her shoulder at Allison, their hands intertwined as they all tried to stay together. When her friend’s sparking eyes et her own, she laughed out loud, suddenly filled with excitement for what her first night as single girl could hold.

___________________________________________

Tequila. Lots of tequila - and rum - that’s what Lydia’s first night as a single girl involved. Isaac had monopolised her, claiming the strawberry blonde as his new drinking partner. Scott had laughed as Allison protested from his arms, warning the English boy that he had to look after her Lydia. Isaac had saluted in mock agreement before dragging the girl to the bar and away from Stiles’ dark gaze.

Stiles had been shell shocked when Kira appeared before him, dragging a grinning Lydia behind her. She was already flushed from the warm, sticky air in the club, but her cheeks turned pink as Stiles set his eyes on her. Lydia’s hair was wild, her long auburn locks were twisted into messy curls, half of it pinned up so her massive eyes were on display. Her lashes were darker than he had ever seen them and they were ludicrously long. Her cheekbones were sharper, her face glowing and her lips painted in a colour that made Stiles think of long kisses and bitten lips.

She was taller, her pretty face almost meeting his own as he took in her long, long legs and even higher heels. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to get used to the way she could meet his eye. He preferred her being tucked against him, her small frame being held up by her larger than life attitude, not stilletos.
But then she turned around, happily greeting Scott who already had Allison on his lap in his barstool, and Stiles almost dropped the beer he was holding.

The dress that she wore, although short, was seemingly innocent. It was floaty and moved with her body, unlike the second skin Malia wore. The dark material was held up by thin straps but the back of it showed off more of Lydia's skin than Stiles had ever seen .

Stiles was confused at first, wondering where the other half of Lydia's dress had gone. Her bare back, dotted with cute little freckles here and there, was on full display for the world to see. The dress scooped just above her ass, covering the parts of her that would have made Stiles kill a man.

But that long expanse of bare skin was enough to make him blindly grab the shot of green liquid Isaac held out for him. He downed it, relishing the way it scorched his throat as his eyes burned into Lydia's body.

He was desperate to pull her over, to to run his hands down that smooth length of skin that was on show for him. There was no interruption of a bra strap on her frame and Stiles swore into his beer at the thought of her bare underneath.

She waselectricbefore him, her laughter filling the air and mixing with the music. She argued playfully with Isaac has he handed her new, colourful shots to drink, laughing when Scott told her no.

She brought the glass to her lips and tipped her head back anyway, making Isaac and Kira cheer. Stiles grinned as Lydia set her eyes on him, squeezing past Allison and the packed crowds to reach him.

Her lips turned up into a smile and Stiles knew her tongue would already be stained green and blue from the alcohol. She would taste like raspberries and apples, Stiles concurred, and he was dying for a taste.

"Kitten", Stiles greeted her, one hand finding it's way to the small of her back.

His fingertips brushed her skin and he almost sighed in relief at the contact. He brought his arm to curl around her and he didn't have to do anything else as she stepped into his body, smiling up at him with eyes already buzzing from her shots.

He was probably going to kill Isaac later.

"Hello", Lydia purred, living up to his nickname for her. She had fancy little flicks at the corners of her eyes, and Stiles swallowed heavily as she set her fluttering gaze on his lips.

"I like your dress", Stiles told her over the music, the seemingly innocent statement spoken into her ear with a smile. Her hair brushed his cheek, his lips, his neck.

"Oh, you do?", Lydia countered, her hand finding its way inside his open shirt, curling around his waist and against his white T that clung to his body.

Stiles took a long drag of beer from the bottle, making a strangled sound of agreement that made Lydia grin.

He leaned against the bar, Lydia falling into his parted legs and against him. He knew that they had all of their friends attention by now, but he couldn't find it in him to care.

Malia had joined them, her knuckles tight around her glass of pink vodka as she watched Stiles stand with Lydia. He had discarded his beer bottle on the crammed bartop, still half full, so he could place both of his hands on Lydia's hips. His fingers grazed the opening of her dress, skimming the bare skin of her back.

"You know, as fantastic as your legs look in those heels, I'm not sure I could get used to you this tall", Stiles chuckled, adoring the way Lydia was leaning into him.

"Mmm", Lydia pouted, "they hurt like a bitch".

She grinned as one of her hands slipped up Stiles' chest and around his neck, resting there as her nails lightly scratched at his skin. He erupted in goosebumps and his grip on her waist tightened. If the club wasn't so loud, Lydia would have been able to hear the groan that left his lips and the shaky breath that followed.

Lydia stumbled slightly, moving further into the boy and pressing her small frame against him. She was warm from the crowded club and mass of bodies, but she was trembling from the proximity of the boy in front of her.

But she felt confident and deliriously happy for the first time in months and she giggled at the realisation of it.

"Lydia, are you drunk?" Stiles raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her, his lips set in a tight line as if he was trying not to laugh.

"No!", the girl protested, "I'm tipsy".

"Tipsy?", Stiles repeated with a half smile. He looked down at her, watching her pretty face change from sky blue to aqua and pink from the lights. Somewhere behind them, the hiss of a smoke machine was heard and suddenly clouds fell from the rafters, making people cheer.

It surrounded them and the cool, damp mist making Stiles hands slide against Lydia's back, slipping down until his touch grazed the bottom of her dress.

"Tipsy", Lydia agreed. Both of her hands found their way to Stiles' neck, her body flush with his own and her arms curled around his shoulders. She brought her lips to his ear, standing on her toes and making their hips push into rah others.

Stiles groaned and this time Lydia felt the vibrations through her chest.

"I'm happy tipsy, buzzed tipsy, I-don't-care-tipsy", her lips brushed the boys ear and he shivered.

"I'm electricity-in-my-veins-tipsy, too-warm-tipsy and desperate-to-do-something-I-shouldn't-tipsy".

Stiles frowned, pulling back from her slightly as he looked down at the girl in confusion, "Kitten-?"

His words were cut off as Lydia fell into him, her hands finding his face as she cradled his jaw, her fingers splayed out across his sharp cheekbones. She pushed her lips to his, softly, firmly, gently, hurriedly - but with so much confidence that she shocked herself.

Chapter 14: Chapter Fourteen.

Chapter Text

“Cause there’s no drink or drug I’ve tried,
to rid the curse of these lover’s eyes,
and I feel numb, beneath your tongue’’.

He trailed lazy fingertips down her spine, trying to entice shivers from her but the boy was caught out when he felt Lydia’s tongue slip between his lips, letting him taste her, tease her. His hands stopped their games and gripped her hard, forcing himself to stay grounded - but he was tethered to her, he wasn’t going f*ckinganywhere.

Their lips parted with reluctance and Lydia was set back down on her feet as Stiles’ arms loosened from around her waist. She breathed in the warm air and the taste of smoke lingered on her lips along with the boys kisses.

Stiles swore under his breath as he gazed down at the girl with hooded eyes and a parted mouth. Her lips were swollen from his own, her lipstick slightly smudged and he knew that he would also be wearing some. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright and wide. He reached up, gently swiping his thumb across the corner of her mouth, fixing her make up and grinning when she let out a small laugh.

Then there was Malia. Her blue eyes shone with either anger or tears, Lydia wasn’t sure, but when her gaze fell onto the tall blonde - guilt stabbed at her chest. Malia’s lips turned up into a sneer, a mask of indifference slipping over her face before she took one last glance at Stiles before she flipped her hair and stalked away.

Lydia pursed her lips, the heat and exhilaration from the kiss fading slowly as Malia disappeared into the crowds. Stiles’ hands slipped from her waist and caught her hand, tugging on her slightly in order to capture her attention.
She tore her stare away from the other girl and ignored the sh*t eating grins from her friends, her gaze met Stiles’ own and he smiled at her. Heat still lurked in his golden eyes, a new type of lust that she hadn’t yet seen before. His thumb rubbed circles into her palm and he walked towards the dance floor, leading her with him with raised eyebrows.

His hands found her hips once more, his long fingers splayed across the bare skin on her back as he teased the edges of her dress. Lydia didn’t need much persuasion as she moved into him, the boy’s tall, hard body flush with her own. Heat clung to her, making her dress stick to her, making the boy’s hands slip across her skin. She brought one hand up to his neck, holding herself against him as she started to move. Lydia began a dance, a slow, dangerous rhythm that had both of them breathing too hard and too fast.

Her hips swayed to the low beat, Stiles’ rough palms guiding the girl as he moved against her. Every action was slow, deliberate - done to tease the other, for the places that ached to grind together, the friction making them burn from their insides out.
Stiles moved into her body, her hand curling around the nape of his neck and he stopped slightly, his head lowered and bringing their lips closer together. His nose bumped gently against her own as he moved closer, dipping his body to meet her mouth and match the the beat of the music.

Teasing touches dropped to her thighs, his rough palms skimming over the tops of her legs as raw heat began burning through the thin material of her pretty dress. Lydia continued to move to the music, her hand reaching back up to hang from the boy’s neck. She tethered herself to him, both of them rocking against each other as Stiles’ hands continued their journey until the found the bare skin of Lydia’s legs.

His fingers toyed with the hem of her dress, his touch grazing her upper thighs as he smirked into her neck. She arched her body, letting her head fall to the side in invitation. Lydia’s eyes slipped closed and her lips parted when Stiles placed kisses along her skin, his teeth grazing the curve of her neck and his fingers causing mayhem to the inside of her thighs.

They both knew that somewhere, in the depths of the club’s shadows, their friends would be watching them. And they were, with those shocked expressions painted on their faces - and not because they didn’t expect it to happen, they did - it was inevitable.

__________________________________________

When the apartment door was flung open, Stiles fell into it with Lydia wrapped around his waist, his hands under her dress and caressing all of the soft skin and silky lace that he could find. His keys fell to the floor with a noise that was ignored - or possibly not even heard - and the boy used his foot to kick the door shut behind them.

They stumbled into the dark apartment, the shadows from the moonlight falling across their bodies and Lydia toed off her heels as her legs were wrapped around Stiles’ back. They dropped to the floor with a thump and when Stiles let Lydia slide down his body, she only reached his shoulders.

“That’s better’’.

He grinned down at her, strawberry blonde curls falling across her wide eyes and swollen lips. His own face was flushed, heat rising across his cheeks and down his body. The girls dress hung from her small frame, one strap slipping precariously from her shoulder. Stiles tucked his fingers underneath it, his knuckles running back and forth along her skin and making her shiver. He tugged gently and Lydia smirked as she stepped forward, Stiles’ lips falling onto her own immediately.

The boys hands cradled Lydia’s face, his thumb dragging over the corner of her full lips as he kissed her. They swayed together, lost in each other’s touch as their mouths moved more impatiently, more feverish and desperate.

“Kitten”, Stiles voice was low, and almost growl and his eyes were closed as he spoke. He was close to the girl, his lips just brushing hers when he talked, “If you want to stop… you’re going to have to tell me now’’.

“Stiles, please…’’, her words were a plea and her voice was a whimper.

Chapter 15: Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Text

Um, NSFW? I've NEVER wroteanythinglike this before. I'm going to go hide under my bed now.

“A backless dress and some beat up sneaks,

my discothèque, Juliet teenage dream,

I felt it in my chest as she looked at me”.

His hands were playing havoc on her skin, his mouth hovering so close to her own, grazing her lips before pulling away again. The boy, shaking with anticipation and panting with lust, was surprisingly calm. His words, although hoarse and low, were collected and sincere - piercing the through the dark room with shocking clarity.

“Lydia?’’

“Good’’, his voice rang with finality and his next movements made Lydia’s heart beat faster.

His fingers that were still hooked around the delicate lace of her underwear finally moved. Stiles’ golden eyes were set on Lydia’s own shocked pair when he slowly dragged the material down her legs. The dark lace dropped from her feet and fell to the floor - and when Stiles moved back into her embrace and crushed his lips to hers - she felt completely naked despite the dress she still wore.

"Bedroom", Lydia mumbled.

"I could have sworn that about a week ago, you refused to step a foot inside my bedroom", Stiles chuckled into Lydia's neck, his words whispered to her between kisses.

The girl chose to ignore him - instead tutting in exasperation before she moaned - Stiles effectively cut off her complaint as brought the back of his hand to her head, crushing their lips together and sweeping his tongue back into her mouth.

Stiles kissed like he lived out each day, Lydia deduced - smoothly, confidently and in a way that would probably get him slapped. He smirked against her as she let out a gasp, her hands curling uselessly upon his chest. Stiles' hands came up to grip Lydia's hips - nothing separating his touch on her skin under her dress.

"Bedroom, yeah?" Stiles grunted, his breathing quickly becoming laboured as his hands mapped out Lydia's tiny waist, the delicate ripples of her ribs. His fingertips trailed up the sides of her breasts and back down again, and he smirked when he felt her sharp intake of breath.

He took Lydia's moan as a sign of agreement and he wasted no time in grabbing her small body and lifting her back up from the table. Together, wrapped around each other and panting into the others parted lips, they stumbled across the dark apartment. The scrap of lace that was Lydia’s underwear was left at their feet, the only evidence left behind that proved their relationship had stepped up a level.

“Jesus, f*cking Christ, Kitten - stop,stop...’’ Stiles tore himself away from the bed, sitting up so suddenly that he had to grab Lydia so she didn’t fall off of him. He held her to him, his hands splayed across her naked back as he tried so hard to get his breathing under control.

Chapter 16: Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Text

“I'll use you as a warning sign,
that if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind.
I'll use you as a focal point,
so I don't lose sight of what I want’’.

The girl was quiet and she blushed again, making Stiles grin out of habit, her face burrowing into his chest. It wasn’t until Lydia nodded her head in answer that Stiles relaxed. He felt her long lashes brush against his skin as she blinked, her movements slow and still laced with sleep. She felt smaller and more delicate than ever like this, curled in his arms and wrapped in nothing but soft sheets and his arms. Her long hair fanned out across his chest and onto the pillows under them and he was dying to reach out and stroke it away from her face, to place a wavy strand behind her ear - but he held back because suddenly, that seemed a very romantic thing to do. Stiles let out a heavy breath when he realised that everything they were currently doing, their entire situation right now, was something that screamedcouple.

A stab of panic pierced his chest and the boy ran a worried hand through his own messy hair instead. Stiles wasn’t sure if it was the erratic beating of his heart that alerted her, but Lydia looked up, her head moving away from his chest as she sat, pulling the blanket with her.

He swept her hair over one shoulder with careful hands, his fingers dancing along her back and his words falling hot and heavy onto her skin.

“Stiles...’’, Lydia said once more, her voice weak and her body finding comfort in the way his own lean frame curled around her. Stiles smiled but he let out a sigh, leaning forward to rest his chin on the girls shoulder. When he next spoke, his words were mumbled into the skin on her neck.

“Talk to me, Lydia’’.

“I know’’, Lydia murmured back, “It was just... sensitive’’.

Lydia met his heated gaze and she was only made more aware of the fact she naked underneath her blanket, and so was he. The space separating them seemed much smaller than before and she swallowed heavily, her mouth suddenly dry and the air too warm.

“Not the point, Stilinski’’, she muttered to the mattress. Lydia had too much common sense to even try and deny what he said. The boy was right, and Lydiahatedtelling him that he was right, regardless of the topic.

Another wash of silence bathed them and Lydia watched the door through careful eyes, she was sure one of their oblivious friends would come crashing through it. But it seemed safe and the smell of coffee and bacon snuck under the doorframe instead.

Isaac was the first to talk and Stilesjust knew, that there was a strong possibility of him punching someone that day.

The toaster pinged once more, alerting the group to Isaac’s second batch of pop tarts. Not missing a beat, Stiles made a grab for them, throwing them on a plate and dodging Isaac’s calls of protest and slapping hands. Kira called after him as he slid down the wooden floors of the hall, her own little feet padding after him like a toddler on speed. Eventually, once he reached the door to his room, Kira slipped to the floor with a yelp, the cause being the blanket she insisted on wrapping around herself everytime she stayed at theirs. And then suddenly, Stiles was safe.

__________________________________________

Lydia was going to kill him. The boy beside her was still laughing silently behind his textbook, his shoulders shaking against her own in a way that made her thoughts turn murderous.

The teacher smiled, “Excellent, I’m sure you and Miss Martin will enjoy the alone time tonight’’, the class tittered, “I hear tracking lunar cycles can be almost romantic as stargazing’’.

Lydia’s stomach dropped as the assignment became more clear to her and Stiles let out a soft laugh beside her. Alone time was the last thing she needed with Stiles Stilinski at that moment.

“Class dismissed’’, announced Professor Hale.

Chapter 17: Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Text

"I know it's late but I can't help but think here,
that the day hasn't shown all its cards.
Now it's out to the stars or the ocean,
let's not retrace our steps to the car".

Their home was a battlefield, two sides of the same family that Lydia was stuck between her. Her father was more accustomed to plane journeys and business trips in San Francisco than he was family life. But he would find her favourite things all over the world, sending her first editions of her childhood books in Parisian markets, vintage novels from book stores in England and new shoes from Milan. Every time a young Lydia would receive a perfectly gift wrapped box in the mail, her mother would add another man to her ever growing list of playthings and another shot of brandy to her morning coffee.

_____________________________

The breeze lifted and tugged at his messy hair, and Lydia pulled her arms around herself, her knitted jumper too big as always and making her look tiny.

Chapter 18: Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Text

‘’I kinda like the way you

bring me to my knees’’.

The old Jeep rumbled and groaned as it made its way down the dirt track, trees surrounding it and brushing harmlessly against its roof. Lydia was playing with the hem of her jumper, the green threads becoming loose as she grew more and more agitated.
They had been driving for just over twenty minutes, and the air inside the car was thick with tension, hot with their shared breaths and silent with hidden anticipation. She couldn’t help but sneak looks at the boy sitting next to her, his profile strong in the moonlight. He had never once taken his eyes off of the road, not that she had noticed anyway, but every time her gaze landed on his face, his lips would curl up into that f*cking smirk. He knew - how could he not?

Lydia was watching everything, she was so aware to his movements that it was almost too much to bear. He sat too close, his arm brushing her own as he shifted unaware of the effect he was having on her. She would watch how the muscles in his arms would move and ripple as he switched gears, how he gripped the wheel just that little tighter when she looked at him.

Stiles squeezed the wheel a little harder than necessary as he turned down the small, narrow road. They were almost at their destination and the boy was desperate to get out of the Jeep. The small space was filled with Lydia, he was surrounded by her perfume and he felt her arms brush his own every time she shifted restlessly in her seat. Plus, she kept looking at him - those big, pretty doe eyes with too long lashes that made him feel f*cking weak.

She looked like a goddamn X-rated Disney princess, with hair made of gold and lips that tasted like tequila.

Stiles smiled as he watched her, childlike wonder and innocence radiated from the girl who was wrapped up like a multicolored Eskimo, “You see a lot of stars back in California?’’

“My dad would take Scott and I out on camping trips every summer though’’, he told the girl as they spread out the quilts together, notepads and textbooks trapped between them, “We would go out to Green Mountain and spend a week trying to figure out how to make a fire and prove that werewolves were real’’.

Lydia’s hands had long forgotten the pen she had been holding and instead she found constellations in the freckles across Stiles’ cheeks, the moles on his neck and his shoulders as she tugged impatiently at the neck of his shirt. His lips were right there and her fingertips were reaching for the corner of them, her touch skimming along the edges - and somewhere, deep in his chest, he made a noise just for her that had her wriggling closer.

Lydia gave him a look that would have made a weaker man fall to his knees and beg for mercy, but instead, Stiles smirked. The girl batted away his wandering hands that were moving closer to the button of her jeans, hating the fact that she enjoyed his touch and hating it even more that she felt she had to stop him.

“Kitten, there is literally no reason we can’t do what we want to do’’, he took her hand in his, playing with her fingers and tracing patterns on her palm. When Stiles spoke again, he looked at Lydia from beneath his lashes, his eyes warm and playful, “We’ve already discussed the fact that we’re attracted to each other, what’s stopping us?’’

“We’ve also discussed the fact that you are the biggest man whor* on campus, and I’m not up for being the girl that is number forty-seven on your checklist whilst also being the friend that wakes your lazy ass up for class every morning’’, Lydia deadpanned.

Stiles tried to smother a grin at the redheads cutting words, but it didn’t work. He chuckled, tugging on her hand gently until she relented, allowing him to pull her closer until their knees bumped.

"Malia is an... issue that I'm dealing with right now", the boy chose his words carefully, leaning back into Lydia with slight, subtle movements. But the air between them because warmer and her body visibly tensed. But she didn't move away, "And I don't think there's any competition with you involved, Kitten".

Lydia ignored the compliment and pursed her lips instead, narrowing her eyes at her friend, “Stiles, Malia is a girl you’ve strung along, not an‘issue’to deal with’’.

"I'm usually rather distracted when it come to you, Kitten", he replied, honest as ever.

Lydia couldn't help the tiny smile that graced her lips upon hearing his words. This was the Stiles she liked, the Stiles that put a comforting hand on the small of her back when the courtyard became too busy, the boy that would always relent and give her the last slice of pizza at midnight.

The second side of Stiles made her bite her lip and would melt her with a single smirk. He would taste like whisky and whisper dirty things in her ear with his hand too far up her thigh.

The third Stiles would evoke narrowed eyes and heavy sighs of frustration from her, this was the Stiles she would see leaning against the corners of library stacks, another girl beside him with her hand on his arm.

Stiles number three was currently present, with amber coloured eyes and an annoying endearing smirk on his lips. But Lydia tried to ignore it, her eyes settling back to the safety of her notebook, lined paper covered in notes and diagrams of lunar phases.

Stiles let out a bark of laughter, his hands falling back as he leaned against the cold roof of the Jeep. He eyed Lydia with pursed lips, hating that he was giving her the satisfaction she wanted. He cleared his throat, “I could, but where’s the fun in that?’’

The girl rolled her eyes, just like Stiles expected. After a quick glance at her watch, she sighed and packed her books back into her bag with cold fingers.

“Stiles, that is exactly why we wouldn’t work’’, Lydia told him, her back turned to the boy as she carefully let herself slip down from the roof to the ground.

The boy let out a scoff before he flopped to his stomach, shuffling until he could see over the edge of the roof and look down at the girl below. Lydia dropped her bag in the long grass and placed her hands on her hips as she stared back. Her eyebrows were raised and expectant, her whole body ready for the argument she knew she would get in reply.

She sent him a pointed glare and Stiles scowled in return. Their heated stares grew in intensity and after a few seconds, Lydia let out a heavy sigh and clambered into the jeep and out of his sight. Stiles scrambled at the roof, grabbing his books and the blankets before letting his own body drop to the grass. His mind was racing with thoughts that turned angry and annoyed as he flung the quilts into the trunk, his books landing noisily on top. By the time he had slammed the door shut and wrestled his way into his seat belt, the boy was seriously pissed.

He turned to Lydia with quick movements, his eyes only narrowing more as she raised her eyebrows casually at him, waiting for the boy to speak.

“Right, so you won’t go out on a date with me because you’re worried that it wouldn’t end well and it would ruin our friendship?’’ He stated.

The girl nodded, thumbing carefully through her notes that were still on her lap, “Correct’’.

“And you’re pretty damn certain it would end badly because you think I f*ck around’’, Stiles continued, a scowl appearing on his features as he said the words out loud.

Lydia winced at his harsh word choice but nodded anyway, refusing to lie to her friend. She sighed and dropped her notes, turning to look at Stiles with soft eyes, “Well yeah, sorry Stiles, but you can’t argue with that - I’ve known you a few months and I’ve witnessed more girls leaving your room than I’ve seen in class’’.

“Well, what made you decide to be one of them last night?’’

Stiles regretted the words as soon as they left his lips - they were harsh and cheap - things he didn’t associate with Lydia. But he was annoyed and his ego was battered, so, too stubborn to apologize, he stayed silent and waited for her reply.

Lydia’s jaw dropped as she took in the words that the boy muttered, praying that she hadn’t heard him correctly. But as she stared at him through narrowed eyes, he merely shrugged at her, a look of boredom on his sharp features.

Ready to spit fire, she turned to face the windshield, her breathe falling in heavy huffs as her anger grew. She slammed her bag on the floor beneath her before cramming her once neatly folded notes inside, the silence that came from Stiles deafened her.

“Because, I wanted to get off and figured you wouldn’t put up much of an argument’’, she seethed, her skin uncomfortably hot, “Next time, I’ll ask Isaac, yeah?’’

Lydia knew she would never do such a thing and she also knew exactly why she kissed Stiles at the club. Deep down, she suspected Stiles was aware as well - but the boy took her cutting words as truth and the response she received was the roar of the engine and the squeal of tires as he shot out of the field and back to campus.

_____________________________________

In the next hour, the only sounds that Stiles heard was the thump of his Jeep door being slammed shut as Lydia stalked towards her dorm, never looking back and never meeting his eyes. The second, was the glorious crack of a bottle of whiskey being opened.

He arrived at his apartment near one am, his thoughts still shouting at him for being such a dick. But his blood was still bubbling angrily under his skin and he had no room for rational sense - the part of him that screamed‘go back to her, say you’re sorry you f*cking dick, tell her you didn’t mean it’ was drowned out.

So instead, he poured a glass of amber coloured liquid and fell onto the couch, Isaac beside him and taking drags from a joint that was already half gone. The room was dim and smoke clouded them, making everything else seem far away and foggy - just what Stiles wanted. The air was too sweet, the whiskey he swigged too sharp and his thoughts of Lydia too loud. The TV murmured in the background, gunshots from a bad action movie making his head hurt.

Isaac dropped his head to his shoulder, looking at Stiles through hooded eyes as he blew a steady stream of smoke from his lips. He offered his friend the thin roll up, the end burning amber and glowing temptingly.

“Want a hit?’’

Stiles let out a snort of laughter despite finding no humour in his next words, “Nah man, wasn’t a date’’, he took another long drag before passing it back, “Lydia doesn’t date guys like me’’.

“Guys like you?’’ Isaac mumbled, his lips wrapped around the end of the joint and an eyebrow arched at the other boy, “Clarification please? Because I’m assuming you don’t mean brunettes’’.

“No, man whor*s, guys who sleep about, me’’, Stiles replied with false cheer.

“Ah, I see’’, Isaac nodded slowly, his legs stretching out before him until they rested comfortably on the coffee table, “So, does that mean I’ve got a shot with her?’’

Stiles let his fist fall into Isaac’s chest, his friend’s laughter slightly dulled by the force he put behind his hit. He knew the British boy was joking, but he still didn’t like it - and Isaac knew that by the way Stiles’ eyes glinted dangerously.

“f*ck you, where’s Scott? He’s better at this sh*t’’, Stiles groaned, looking around the empty apartment for their usually sensible friend.

“He’s at Allison’s and shut up - I’m good at this sh*t too’’, Isaac whined at Stiles’ dubious expression.

“Fine’’, the dark haired boy relented.

“Okay, mate, I hate to tell you but you do get a lot of chicks in your bed’’, Isaac took another quick puff before passing it to a disgruntled Stiles before continuing, “and usually, I’m impressed by that. But girls like Lydia like a bit of loyalty, she was in three year relationship - that should tell you everything man’’.

Isaac nodded wisely and Stiles shook his head with a smile, knowing that despite his friend being higher than a f*cking kite, he was still right.

He placed the joint between his lips, the sickly sweet smell invading every sense he had. His eyes burned and his vision became hazy as the smoke dipped and swam around him. His chest burned as he inhaled and he let his head fall back onto the couch as he blew smoke at the ceiling.

“Just last night she was all over me though, bro, you seen it right?’’ Stiles argued, his voice becoming hoarse and gravelly, “and sh*t dude, when we got back here, she was f*cking dangerous’’.

“I know’’ Isaac placated, his light hair flopping across sleepy eyes as he chuckled, “Man, that kiss was something else’’.

“You have no f*cking idea’’, Stiles groaned in reply, taking another swig of whiskey, “so, I have no idea what she f*cking wants’’.

Isaac let out a laugh, taking another hit and letting more hazy smoke cloud up the room, “Probably a f*cking apology for a start, you dick’’, he scolded and Stiles winced, instantly regretting telling the boy what he had said.

“Apart from that, I reckon little Miss Lydia only wants two things’’, the blonde boy stated simply, holding up the appropriate amount of fingers and eyeing Stiles with a smug smirk playing on his lips. He blew another cloud into the air.

Stiles scoffed, not believing his friend for a second, “Oh yeah?’’, he taunted, “what’s that then?’’

Isaac sat up from the couch and stretched, stubbing out the dying bud on an old plate he used as an ashtray. He ran a lazy hand through messy hair and looked back at Stiles with a grin, “Loyalty and org*sms, of course’’.

He stood, his tall frame towering in the room as he took away Stiles’ empty glass and padded barefoot into the dark kitchen. The boy clattered around clumsily for a few minutes before reappearing behind the couch, clapping Stiles on the back.

“Too bad you can only manage to give her one of those, huh?’’ Isaac chuckled. He turned, heading for his room and not waiting for Stiles to reply, “Night, man’’.

“That was literally no f*cking help whatsoever’’, Stiles mumbled to no one in particular. He rubbed his eyes and ran a tired hand across his face in frustration.

Left with his thoughts in the darkness and the heavy ache in his bones, Stiles let out a sigh. His words tasted like whiskey and bitterness, his stomach coiling uncomfortably as he allowed himself to think on the things he said to Lydia earlier on. He swore into the empty room and picked up his cell, his finger hovering over the one name in his contact list that made that stupid, niggling sensation settle slightly.

He pressed the call button and brought the device to his ear, letting a smirk fall onto his lips as a husky, caramel laced voice answered.

“Cora, hey’’, Stiles stood, grabbing the neck of his t-shirt and shrugging it off, “you busy?’’

Chapter 19: Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Text

Just listen to 'Love Like This' by RY X on repeat. This is a smallish chapter as I've been stupid busy with work and I still need to pack for my holiday on Tuesday! If I can update before I leave, I will, I promise. In the meantime, let me know what you think of these two idiots..

“Here it comes,
that heavy love.''

Lydia woke up to stiff limbs and a headache that made the hazy, morning sun seem like a nuclear explosion. She twisted in bed, the sheets wrapped around her bare legs and tangled across her hips. Somewhere far, far away, she heard whispers and muffled laughter, the hiss of a coffee machine and rushed footsteps.

The girl stretched and turned over, curling into a ball as she tucked her knees into her chest. With sleepy eyes, she attempted to glare.

Allison was perched on the edge of her own mattress, her feet swinging happily as she observed her friend with a grin. Scott lay behind her, still protected by the warmth of the duvet. But upon seeing his bare shoulders - bronzed and golden against the white sheets - Lydia made a half-hearted noise of disgust, her petite noise screwing up childishly before she moaned and headed into the safety of her covers.

“Really guys? When I’m quite literally six feet away?’’

Scott had the decency to blush and look embarrassed, his brown eyes studying the expanse of the white ceiling as he pulled the sheet up to his neck. Allison’s grin merely grew, her eyes far too alive for such an early time. The clock was barely pushing seven o’clock and Lydia groaned at her friend, only her eyes and mess of vibrant curls visible from her nest of sheets.

“Nothing happened, get your mind out the gutter’’, Allison told her, her long legs curled underneath her, “At least not after you barged in at ridiculous o’clock last night.''

Lydia flinched at the memory, her blood fizzing inside her veins as she recalled the words her and Stiles had shared. How she had stormed up the stairs once and he had roared away in the jeep. She had practically ignored the lump in Allison’s bed, the shape too large to be just her friend. But Lydia had clambered into bed anyway, throwing her jeans at the wardrobe door with a thump. Her cell tumbled out of the pocket and hit the floor with a crash, and her head did the same to her beaten pillow.

“Yeah’’, Scott piped up, his hand finding it’s way round Allison’s waist and his fingertips stroking the bare skin on her hip distractedly, “We thought you would have just crashed at mine with Stiles?’’

Lydia sat up with a scowl etched on her face and Scott gulped, retreating to safety behind Allison. The strawberry blonde flung her legs out of bed, thankful that she had chosen an extra large shirt to sleep in as she stormed around the room with bare feet. Grabbing her shower bag and a clean clothes, she growled, “Please don’t mention that asshat’s name to me.''

The girl grabbed her room key and headed to the door, leaving both Allison and Scott with mixed expressions of surprise and exasperation of their faces. Before the door slammed shut, Lydia threw more words over her shoulder.

“At least not until I’ve had four cups of coffee and located a f*cking battle axe.''

The door shut with a harsh click, making the lamps on the bedside tables rattle with indignation. Silence swept over the room and Scott broke it with a sigh, sinking back into his girlfriend’s bed as he wiped tiredly at his eyes. Allison joined him with a small smile, and it grew when Scott wrapped his arms around her.

“What’s your idiot of a roommate done to my friend now?’’

Scott let out a humourless chuckle and burrowed his face into the crook of the girls neck, “Oh, f*ck knows’’, he chuckled placing a kiss on her skin, “But I’m pretty sure he’s got a lot of grovelling to do.''

Allison nodded, her fingers threading through Scott’s hair, “I have no doubt about that whatsoever - she’s not kidding - if anyone can find an actual battle axe in New Jersey, it’s Lydia.''

_______________________________________

Lydia didn’t feel much better as she stood in the shower, her fingers absentmindedly twisting the dial until the water was almost too hot to bear. She doused herself in coconut bodywash, her eyes staring at the tiles as she went over last night’s conversation in her head. Every time Stiles’ last words rung in her head, a sharp pain stabbed at her chest until it was replaced with anger - a hot, fresh fury that swept over her.

The chatter of other girls around her became deafening as the time for class grew closer, and after hearing a group of juniors talk about how ‘Stilinski really needed to have another party soon’, Lydia pulled herself away from the stream of comforting heat.

Dressed and somewhat frazzled, Lydia stormed the busy corridors and made her way down the stairs, her shorts sticking to her still damp skin and her hair in untamed waves that threatened to wind their way around her neck. She was struggling with the balance of her heavy bag and the mountain of books she was carrying, the busy quad becoming an obstacle course as she trudged by the cafe with a look of longing.

She was late, her body uncomfortably damp after her too long shower and she was craving caffeine like a drug addict coming down from a week long high. The only good thing that was coming from the terrible morning was that her first and only class of the day was Biochemistry - mind numbing at eight thirty am, but completely void of a certain boy. Or so Lydia thought.

As she rounded another corner with speed and she stopped short in her tracks abruptly - almost causing her belongings to fall from her arms. Luckily, she kept her grip of the large textbooks and thankfully so - she would have hated to see Stiles’ tentative, ashamed smile turn into a smirk.

He stood leaning against the wall outside her lecture hall, a take out cup in one hand and the other stuffed in his pocket as he watched her with careful eyes. Lydia took a step forward, tugging at her shirt that was falling precariously off of one shoulder. Stiles followed her movements and Lydia knew what he was doing - he was too aware, too attuned to her by now. The boy knew the girl was mad - and he didn’t need to look at the scowl on her face to know.

But he winced anyway as their gazes finally met, and he had the right to look a little afraid. The hallway emptied, the rush of students eventually dying down to the stragglers as classes began. Lydia looked at the open door to her lab and back to the boy - only hesitating when Stiles held out the cup of coffee. She stared him down, a perfectly arched eyebrow quirked.

“Venti, non-fat latte, with a half shot of caramel, no whip’’, Stiles told her, offering the cup with a small smile, “Extra shot of espresso.''

“Extra shot of espresso?’’ Lydia repeated with narrow eyes, careful not to fall for the sad little smile he was giving her - it had worked in the past, but usually over little things like who ate the last slice of cake, or whose turn it was to take back the library books.

“Well, I figured if you felt anything like I did last night, you didn’t get much sleep either’’, Stiles sighed, his voice nothing but honest. He gazed at her with those brown eyes, little puddles of gold mixed in. He looked tired, the skin underneath them tinged with purple and red and Lydia was sure he had rolled out of bed earlier than he needed to, just to meet her.

Lydia tried hard not to let her hard stare waver, but she accepted the drink. She convinced herself it was because she really needed it to stay awake - he was right, she was tired. It certainly had nothing to do with the soft smile he was giving her, or how he had remembered her stupidly obnoxious coffee order.

“Kitten’’, Stiles began, his voice quiet.

“Don’t call me that’’, the girl replied sharply, her eyes settling back onto the open door of her lab, “You don’t get to call me that, not after last night.''

Stiles looked like a kicked puppy and Lydia could feel her stomach twist unpleasantly - she wanted to hug him, or cry, or both. But this was how she allowed Jackson to get away with things. He would turn up to their dates over an hour late, but he would have flowers, so that was okay, right?

“Lydia...’’, Stiles tried again, a hand outreached as if he wanted to place it on her waist, “I’m so, so sorry.''

“Stiles’’, Lydia replied tiredly, “I need to get to class.''

The boy pleaded silently with her, his eyes warm and boring a hole into her f*cking heart. He had thrown on an old pair of jeans and a white t-shirt and he was all crumpled and bed worn. Messy hair fell into his eyes and Lydia just knew he would fold her up into his arms if she asked him to. She really, really wanted to ask him to.

But instead, she gave him a ghost of a smile, nothing more than a trace on her lips as she walked to the door. She turned, and thanked him for the coffee with a soft voice.

“Can’t we talk?’’, he tried again, “Please?’’

The professor had greeted her classmates from behind her, and the clamour of stools on the floor made her attention waver. She looked back at Stiles, his hands fisted back into his pockets as if he didn’t know what to do with them. He gave her another hopeful smile.

“I’ll come by after class, okay?’’

Stiles’ lips stretched into a happy grin that he quickly tried to tame as he nodded coolly. He walked away seeming more awake, looking back at the girl who was taking small steps into her classroom, watching the boy with the same look in her eyes that he had.

_______________________________________

Stiles felt the hours drag by as he sat in his living room, Kira and Isaac arguing beside him. The two friends were lazily swapping insults as they debated which movie to watch - both of them happily ignoring the stacks of books and essays on the table.

Stiles too, dismissed his half written hypothesis, and instead went from staring at the clock to idly rearranging the pile of DVDs and games beside him. The minutes seemed to turn into days as he waited for Lydia - his heart feeling heavy and anxiety bubbling uncomfortably inside him.

Finally, three hours after he first saw her, she appeared in the apartment, letting herself in with a mountain of books in her arms.

Stiles leapt up, ignoring how Isaac and Kira let out an "aww" at his actions. Resisting the urge to flip them both off, he met Lydia by the door, taking her books from her and offering a tentative smile. When she returned it, the feeling of dread he had hosted since last night faded slightly.

She looked tired, he noted, her hair messier than usual and her eyes a dull green. The boy instantly felt worse, knowing that he had kept her up last night - and not in the way he wanted to.

“Can we talk now?’’ Stiles asked, his voice low, “I really need to talk to you.''

He realised he sounded desperate, and he was, a trait that Stiles rarely felt or chose to show when it came to the opposite sex. But it had been almost twenty four hours since he had said those stupid f*cking words to Lydia in his jeep and he would be damned if he allowed her to think he actually meant them any longer than necessary.

So when Lydia nodded, Stiles let out a sigh of relief, “My room?’’

Still uncharacteristically quiet, Lydia nodded once more, crossing the room and smiling warmly at Kira and Isaac as she passed. Their footsteps seemed to echo down the narrow hallway as Stiles’ bedroom neared - a room that held awkward silences, study sessions, their first hug and the hottest make out session Stiles had partook in. Suddenly, the boys mouth was dry and the hall seemed smaller than usual - his heart raced and he couldn’t decide if he wanted this girl wrapped around him or a hundred miles further than he was.

The decision was made for him as Lydia opened the door and walked into his room as if nothing was wrong. Afternoon light flooded the room, his bed unmade and textbooks littering his floor. The whiskey glass from the night before sat on his bedside table, empty and shouting for attention. Stiles cleared his throat awkwardly and clumsily pushed it into an open drawer as Lydia hid her smile.

“I’m not an alcoholic, I swear’’, the boy joked nervously, watching as Lydia disposed of her heavy bag and herself perched on the edge of his desk, “Last night just called for some… calming down.''

Lydia arched her brows and her wide eyes held everything Stiles needed to know. She was still pissed. Her full lips were set in a grim line and the boy winced, dropping onto the mattress and facing her with more courage than he felt.

“Kitten’’, Stiles paused, watching her reaction, waiting for a telling off. He held his breath, bit his lip, but the girl stayed silent. He thanked every entity he had ever been taught about before continuing.

“I meant what I said this morning, I really am sorry - you have no idea how much’’, Stiles gushed, leaning his arms onto his knees - anything to get closer to the girl before him, “Last night… what I said last night was stupid and childish… and really f*cking hurtful.’’

Lydia did nothing but blink, her eyes becoming glassy as she thought back to the boys harsh words. She shrugged, unable to say anything just yet. Her fingers played with the frayed hem of her shorts, her gaze darting to the floor before finding Stiles’ again.

“I’m an idiot, Kitten, you know I didn’t mean it, right? I don’t think of you like that, I would never, ever think of you like that.’’

"What do you think of me Stiles?" Lydia asked, her voice husky after spending quiet hours in her classroom, "What am I to you?"

Stiles startled, her question catching him off guard. It was a variation of the usual, "so, where is this going?", that he usually got from girls. But he never got a chance to respond, instead, Lydia pushed herself off of the desk and started pacing as she spoke.

"Because we're caught in this loop, Stiles, a balancing act between being friends and something different. And all it will take is one push either way!" Lydia let out a deep breath, staring at the boy with wide eyes.

"I don't know what way I want it to go", she admitted, "God, Stiles, you seem to push me over the f*cking edge every day."

Stiles stood, swallowing heavily as he looked at Lydia with hooded eyes, "What way, Kitten?"

He took a step towards her, his tall frame surrounding Lydia in a way that infuriated her. He gazed down at her, heat and intensity burning in his eyes. Stiles licked his lips, his stare searching the girl's face for a sign, for something.

"What way are we gonna go crashing down, huh?"

His hands tentatively found their way to her hips, his fingertips skating across the denim on her shorts. A switch was flicked and all of a sudden, he was there. Stiles was against her, his movements unsure, his touch patient, asking. And his eyes were gold, his hair still messy from the morning and his lips were right there.

"Who says I want to go falling down anywhere with you?" Lydia asked quietly, her voice nothing more than a murmur as she kept her gaze focused on his mouth.

"Don't try and lie to me Kitten", Stiles laughed through his nose, his fingers curling around her hip, "You either want to kiss me or slap me right now, and I wouldn't blame you for the latter."

Lydia considered both options and she brought her hand to his cheek, her fingers brushing over those cheekbones that were too pretty to belong on a boy. They grazed down his jaw and she felt it clench under her touch, the skin prickle on his neck as her fingers delved into his hair.

"Lydia, I really am sorry", Stiles whispered again, his words warm on her cheek as he leaned into her, "I know you hate those f*cking lines, but this isn't one: you truly mean more to me than that."

He shook his head at his own words, Lydia's tiny fingers still curling into the hair at the nape of his neck. Stiles was warm all over, his body feel like a live wire as Lydia clung to him.

"I don't know what that means just yet, cause trust me Kitten, I'm not f*cking used to this."

The girl made her decision and only just managed to stand on her toes before Stiles ducked down to meet her halfway, her little hand pulling him down by his neck in a rush.

Their noses bumped as their lips clashed and everything was clumsy and impatient. And it was so good and so different, there was no alcohol running through their veins and Lydia could see clearly. She could feel Stiles under her touch like a f*cking live wire.

Sun still streamed into the room, a contrast to the dark night they had shared not long ago. Stiles could see her in front of him and he battled between kissing her and looking at her, Lydia’s face no longer hidden in shadows and his hands seeking out places that weren’t invisible in the dark.

So Stiles pulled back, just a fraction to look down at Lydia, his lips slightly glossy from her own, his eyes dark and gazing at her with such intensity. But Lydia let out a noise of protest, a sound that Stiles would forever remember as she clasped his jaw in her hands once more, dragging him back down to her. They stood there, staggering together as they bumped into the desk, stumbling over one another's feet, swaying like they were goddamn wasted.

Each time Lydia’s tongue stroked over his own, Stiles’ hold on her waist tightened and she moaned until his fingers gripped into her skin and she was sure that she would fall to the ground if he wasn’t holding her to him. This time, he didn’t taste like beer and she couldn’t feel the tequila in the back of her head, the burn in her chest was from him, not alcohol and she wanted to crawl on top of him because he infuriated her to inexplicable levels.

So when he growled into her lips because she wasn’t close enough, she nipped at him and he kissed her deeper in return - it turned into a goddamn battle and neither were sure who was winning. Little hands snuck up the front of Stiles’ shirt and his eyes squeezed shut tighter in response because a touch that innocent was never meant to feel that f*cking good. His head was swimming and everything he felt, tasted and touched was Lydia. Between their kisses and heavy breaths he knew he wanted to apologise again but the girl whimpered every time he tried to drag his lips from hers.

So he gave up, using actions instead to show her how she was different, how the ugly words he had said to her were bullsh*t, how he was nothing but a stupid boy who needed to grow up. Stiles inhaled shakily, his breath stuck in his throat as pulled away from Lydia just slightly, his eyes still closed and his forehead resting against her own. His neck hurt from stooping down to meet her and his chest was heaving but he didn’t care. Lydia was looking at him questioningly, her brow furrowed in confusion as he ever so gently took her face in his hands, his rough palms covering her flushed cheeks as his thumbs grazed the delicate line of her jaw.

When he kissed her again, it was deliberate, slow - so f*cking slow that it pained him - and he felt every goddamn pass of her lips in his f*cking bones. His eyes were scrunched tight and Stiles let out a groan when Lydia’s hands fell on top of his own, clutching at him like a lifeline as he continued, long, slow sweeps of his lips over hers. It was first kiss, a sober kiss, an apology kiss - the only kiss that Stiles had taken his time to give to someone he really cared about.

It wasn’t foreplay or an introduction to sex but it felt every bit as good, if not better. ‘Cause Lydia was warm all over and her breath was falling heavily into Stiles’ parted lips and she swore he tasted sweeter than the coffee he brought her that morning. She was dizzy and she clung to him, her hands over his as he mapped out patterns on her cheeks and down her neck, bringing every nerve in her body to life. Her toes ached from standing on them but she was desperate to get closer to this boy and his achingly slow kisses - and she didn’t care.

She melted underneath him, his lip soft and bowed and folding so perfectly between her own. He took his time, something Lydia had never witnessed him do, as he trapped her bottom lips between his own.

Their kiss turned deeper but it never sped up in its pace and Lydia was sure she was going to scream at how frustratingly good it felt. The girl tried to lick into his mouth, to tease his lips with playful teeth that he loved a few nights ago. But Stiles wasn’t giving in, he was trying to prove a point to Lydia and she was making it impossibly hard every time she let out a little sigh or whimper.

The boy tried to remember that this was for her benefit, for their friendship - their relationship - to fix something, anything. But Stiles was getting off on the little moans that broke their kiss and made it crumble, her hands leaving his and pushing up and under his shirt again.

Everything was exploratory and Stiles felt like the first f*cking man on the moon. Every little thing about this kiss made him ache, right down to the bones inside his body - because it was Lydia and she was right - together, they were f*cking catastrophic. They were an atomic bomb and a force to be reckoned with - and Stiles felt like he was floating over the galaxy.

When their lips finally parted with a shared sigh and shaking hands, the afternoon had faded and Stiles seen the goddamn sunset in Lydia’s eyes.

Chapter 20: Chapter Twenty

Chapter Text

“Hey, did you hear about the one that got away?
They said, she looked left, he turned right,
meant to be together but not that night.’’

Three weeks had passed since Stiles Stilinski had given Lydia a kiss that made her toes curl and her heart drop. Three weeks, two days since they had stumbled apart with clumsy feet in his bedroom, her hands fisted in his shirt and his fingers splayed across her cheekbones. Three weeks, two days, seven hours since they had stared at each other with wide eyes and panting chests, their lips swollen and their eyes hooded.

Three weeks, two days, seven hours and twenty five seconds since Lydia had last kissed Stiles. Their strange and unusual friendship had gained an extra trait, one in which they flirted relentlessly, argued like children and spent almost every waking (and sometimes sleeping) hour with each other.

They acted like their kiss hadn’t happened, as if the only thing that occurred that day was an apology and a mending of their friendship. Their friends weren’t as convinced, watching the pair lie casually on the sofa together, their legs entwined and the ever present clothing that belonged to Stiles, draped on Lydia’s body.

‘Cause alone, she puts up an electrical fence between them, and never once does Stiles chance death by getting too close. But when they’re in public, among their friends and roommates, the fortress comes crumbling down and they become bumbling magnets - bumping and swaying into each other, brushing innocent hands and other body parts that are always too clothed and hidden. They graze each other on the arm and sometimes the thigh for no good reason other than that it’s like capturing f*cking lightning in their hands.

And Lydia’s still unsure why she does it, why she hides from Stiles in certain ways. Sometimes, late at night, on the rare occasion that she’s in her own bed and she’s convinced both herself and Stiles they don’t need another sleepover, she wonders if she likes the feeling of longing, the way her heart drops when she sees him and races when he sits next to her.
If it’s because she secretly adores they games they play, how they challenge and tease each other through touches and hidden glances. How he sits next to her during movie night and throws a casual arm over her shoulder, ignoring Scott’s grins and Isaac’s knowing laughter.
Then the girl would turn her thoughts into logical reasonings, knowing that it should be because of how she was in a long term relationship that ended sourly, she needed a break from boys - she should be focusing on her studies.

But then her phone would light up with his name and she would read his text and grin at how he wanted her to meet him in parks at ridiculous hours in the night, promising her her favourite lattes and the pillow forts in his bedroom if she left her pepper spray in the dorm.

What they had was so innocently friendly that it was sinful, their entire relationship was surrounded by a heady lust and an almost uncontrollable desire - the need to climb into the lap of her friend and bite his bottom lip was inexplicable and Lydia f*cking adored it. Stiles made her feel carefree, a little more alive than she usually did and the way he looked at her had her leaving fingernail marks in her palms.

So Stiles allowed this, watching as his friend’s eyes would brush over his arms, how Lydia would follow the quick, sharp movements his hands would make. He loved how she blushed under his touch, innocent or not, as he sprawled out next to her on the couch. They would be together in class, at lunch, in the library, in her dorm, in his bedroom. They were inseparable - bound by two kisses they shared, one too hot to bear and the other permanently imprinted in their thoughts.
Lydia was a wild card, a little hurricane of rose and gold waiting for him outside lecture hall doors with bright eyes and a bitten lip. She would surprise him by shouting ‘bullsh*t’ the loudest during their nights playing cards with friends, make him burst with laughter as she argued with their professors and leave him breathless when she watched him with silent lips and knowing, dark eyes before hiding behind long, fluttering lashes.

He never pushed her, not too far, never away from him and he never understood her reservations, not fully. Stiles was still in awe of this girl, who barrelled into his life in the middle of his shower. The boy would lie in his bed at night, caught between sleep and real life as he wondered if Lydia was scared to jump with him, if she was still caught up in feelings for her ex - or if she simply didn’t feel that way about him.
Then he would remember how she would curl herself around him when she fell asleep during movies and study sessions, how she could slip her hand into his own so easily as she led him across the quad to the coffee house in the early morning hours. Stiles could never forgot the way her breath faltered when he kissed her, how her eyes turned into charred emeralds when his lips dragged across her neck and his fingers found their way under her dress.

And their friends would laugh, not so subtle chuckles that they tried to hide behind their hands, as they all witnessed the same events. ‘Cause whilst Allison’s eyes were watchful and protective, Stiles’ roommates would tease and taunt with pursed lips and knowing smirks, sly gazes that would be trained on the hand that would make it’s way to Lydia’s waist or the hoody he would give her.
Kira’s grin would be brighter than a million suns, her love of romance and happy endings directed towards the two friends who were oblivious in their roles in her own little love story. Malia would watch them too, with a face that was slightly crumpled with sadness and internal thoughts that told her Stiles was never like that with her, never. Texts from girls would flash tauntingly from the boys cell and everyone would forget the movie they were laughing at as they all held their breaths. But Stiles would ignore it, his amber eyes never leaving the screen and one arm still slung around Lydia’s shoulder as he dismissed the alert.

All of their friends knew the games they played, the strange, ‘will they won’t they’ relationship that they had fallen into head first. Bets were made on a regular basis and usually, they consisted of when the next argument was going to be rather than their next kiss.
Stiles and Lydia worked together like mixing nitrate and acid - they would bubble and fizz together until they combust - an explosion that sent both of them skyrocketing. That was what the oddball mix of students dealt with amongst the studying and laughter, parties and stupid amounts of alcohol.

So on Friday afternoon, Stiles wasn’t surprised to enter his apartment after class to already find Lydia there waiting on him.

The door in front of him held the muffled sounds that usually leaked from his apartment, the beeping of video games and excited yells and curses. The smell of popcorn and laughter that bubbled up and out of the keyhole. When he opened it with tired hands and an armful of books, sunlight flooded his vision from the open windows, blinding him only for a second as another body, a smaller one, crashed into his.

He looked down to see a mess of auburn hair against him as Lydia bumped her head clumsily into his chest as if she was a little cat awaiting her humans return. She softly head butted him again and he chuckled, letting his bag drop from his shoulder to the floor as he put an arm around the small of her waist. Wary of Isaac and Allison staring at them from the kitchen, he gave his friend a little squeeze, dropping his lips to her ear.

“Kitten’’, he murmured, “You know how much I like it when you say ‘Hi’ this way.’’

Stiles still couldn’t see her face that was buried in his chest but he knew she was smiling, her own hands coming up from her sides to cling to his shirt. Finally, she looked up at him, her chin resting against his body as she blinked and pouted.

“Isaac stole the last poptart’’, she complained.

Stiles looked back up in time to see his friend grinning around the frosted treat, sprinkles stuck accusingly to the fingers he waved at Stiles. Allison laughed, finishing off her own pastry as Kira yelled obscenities at the TV in the living room.

“Aw come on, Lydia, no need to tattle to your boyfriend’’, the boy drawled through a mouthful of crumbs and winked knowingly at Allison who only laughed harder, both of them waiting for the outburst that was going to happen.

“He’s not my boyf-!’’ Lydia’s voice gained volume as she wiggled out of Stiles’ embrace and spun on her heels to face the blonde. Her cheeks turned pink and her eyes flashed dangerously, her usual argument prepped and ready to be yelled.

Stiles caught her round the waist and pulled her into his body just as she took a step towards a wide eyed British boy. He grinned, his hand slipping over her skin as her top rode up and her voice faltered.

“Settle down Kitten, before I have to get you a little bundle of yarn to play with’’, he whispered as a slow, sh*t eating grin spread over his lips.

He watched Lydia’s eyes narrow. The elbow to the his stomach was admittedly deserved and he let out choked laughter as he released her, watching her tiny frame scramble into the kitchen so she could give a still chuckling Isaac a swift punch to the arm.

The taller boy winced and pouted good naturedly as he rubbed the spot Lydia barely managed to brush, his eyes meeting Stiles’ with a playful glint. His eyebrows rose in question, “where’s Scotty?’’

Stiles shrugged, finally dropping his books onto the couch beside Kira, who yelped as the cold, leather covers came into contact with her legs.

“Well, he’s twenty minutes late and he promised me he’d give me a ride to archery training’’, Allison sighed, peering out the window and into the parking lot for the umpteenth time.

She frowned, turning back in time to see Stiles swat playfully at Lydia’s ass as she sauntered past him with the remainder of popcorn that she had wrestled from Isaac. She smirked at his guilty eyes and smothered grin, merely shaking her head at the pair.

“Lyd, can you give me a ride?’’

“I, for one, would love to see Lydia give you a ride Allison’’, Isaac called from the kitchen gleefully, his back turned to them as he cackled and shoved a pizza in the oven.

His comment made even Kira drop her controller and scrunch her nose up adorably, joining in with the choruses of “Jesus christ, Isaac’’ and‘Really?!’’ that came from the girls.

Lydia rolled her eyes and looked up at Stiles from her spot on the armchair, her eyebrows raised in waiting. Her hair was loose and curling around her shoulders, still messy from chasing Isaac around the breakfast bar. It took the boy a second to get the words out of his throat as he gazed back at her.

“What?’’, he asked through strained laughter, “Do you want me to disagree with him? Cause I can’t do that, sorry’’.

“You’re a dog’’, Lydia stated as she gave the bowl of popcorn to a delighted and distracted Kira, before she stood and grabbed her car keys.

She brushed against Stiles, some would say deliberately, as she passed: her hips brushing over his and her hair tickling the lengths of his bare arms. The boy grinned, gently grasping her elbow as he pulled her back into him, just enough so he murmur in her ear with hot, sharp words.

“If you pet me, I’ll-’’

Lydia turned swiftly, a grin fighting to break free from her lips at his words. Her cheeks tightened and her mouth twisted, a little dimple appearing beside her freckles as Stiles stared her down with challenging eyes. She was close to him, too close due to him pulling her back against his frame. Her auburn head brushed his chin as she looked down at the floor and then back up at him through fluffy, too long lashes.

“You’ll what, Stiles?’’ Lydia let her voice drop lower, her lips falling open slightly as she licked at them, “You’ll give me a bone?’’ She arched one eyebrow as the boy let out a wide grin before nodding enthusiastically.

“I’d be happy to’’, he growled, still too low for anyone but Lydia to hear.

The girl rolled her eyes and smiled, knowing that he was watching her as she grabbed her jacket and walked to the door. Allison followed with a smirk, throwing Stiles a grin over her shoulder, “I’ll make sure she comes right back to you, don’t worry Stilinski’’.

“So thoughtful of you Ally’’, he snarked, bring his hands to his chest dramatically before flopping down onto the couch and stealing the xBox controller from Kira.

“Hey!’’, she whined, batting impatiently at the boy’s hands.

“Not a chance, pipsqueak, you spilled milkshake on the rug yesterday’’, he deadpanned, watching as Kira frowned and stared at the bright pink mark on the rug before them. She conceded, placing her hands delicately on her lap instead.

“But Isaac threw his shoe at me’’, she whined, frowning when Stiles stared at her blankly.

“And that’s our cue to leave’’, Lydia laughed, she shot Stiles an amused look, “Enjoy babysitting’’.

Lydia pulled Allison by the hand, the friends heading to the door, both with small smiles playing on their lips. Lydia stepped out into the hall, muttering to the other girl about how she was going to end up late to her class, but when her gaze met Stiles', she faltered, the words dying in her throat and her lips quirking upwards.

The boy had his head leaning back and resting against the sofa cushion as he turned to look at her. His gaze was teasing, predatory and his grin only grew as he watched Lydia blush. It was a silly little game, he knew that, especially for friends to play - but Stiles had sworn a few weeks ago that he would take any opportunity he could to see that girl turn pink for him.

Allison's soft laughter came from behind her and she startled slightly, her toe hitting against the door jam as she moved with sudden a quickness. The longing to get away from the apartment - and Stiles - hit her like a tonne of bricks and she practically raced down the stairs and into the crisp autumn air. Her friend could be heard chuckling behind her the whole way down, a sound she was accustomed to, as well as the accusatory glance Allison was burning into her back.

Lydia turned over her shoulder as they crossed the parking lot, her keys fumbling in her hands as they reached her car, "What?'', she bit out, exasperated at the brunettes stare.

"Can't you just do it with him already?'' Allison snickered, climbing into the passengers seat and shoving textbooks that weighed more than her out of the way.

Lydia joined her, slamming the car door more harshly than necessary before revving the car to life. She drove out of campus, her eyes narrowed and focused on the road, rather than the smug smile she knew Allison was wearing.

"Do it with him? Really Ally, are we fourteen again?'', Lydia was stalling, avoiding the question altogether and both girls knew it.

"Fine'', Allison shrugged, she inspected her nails with quiet glee, "Would you prefer if I asked you why you and Stiles haven't fuc-''

Lydia cut her off with a slap to her thigh before her hand returned to the wheel, her eyes wide and her lips parted as her rebuttal fell on her lips. Allison was grinning, looking out of the window so her friend wouldn't be inclined to inflict any more bodily damage. Her shoulders shook as she let out silent laughter, the only sound in the car being Lydia's stuttered protests that only sounded like squeaks.

"Use your words, Lyd'', the brunette mocked.

"We've been over this'', Lydia told her, her lips pursed and body tensed. She sat up straight in her seat, knowing she was being scrutinised by the girl that knew her too well. Her fingers drummed an off-rhythm beat on the steering wheel.

"Stop fidgeting'', Allison smirked, "And no, the last time we went over this, you told me you were both just friends - then three days later you made out in his bedroom after and an argument over the last time you made out... drunk and naked... in his bed.''

Lydia frowned.

"And now, we're back to watching the pair of you acting like sixteen year olds in heat - I mean, seriously, can you not stop touching the boy?''

Lydia huffed.

"I seriously don't know why you just don't give in and proclaim your love for him or something'', Allison sighed dramatically, letting her head fall to the side so she could gaze at her friend through locks of perfectly styled waves, "Honestly, Lydia, what gives?''

The strawberry blonde bit down on her lip, chewing nervously as she stopped at a red light. She gave her friend a quick glance, sighing when Allison arched an eyebrow at her in return.

"Is it Jackson, are you not over him or something?'' Allison prompted, "Is he still calling you all the time?''

"Well, yeah'', Lydia answered and Allison frowned, "I mean, yes, he's still calling me, but I am over him'', she explained.

The light turned to green and Lydia accelerated, nodding when Allison wordlessly pointed to a Starbucks down the street. They drove in silence for a few minutes before Lydia pulled over, killing the engine and bathing them in more silence. The blue skies and bright sun gave the impression of summer outside but the morning frost was still decorating the edges of her windows and a mess of fire coloured leaves blew down the street.

Allison sat patiently, watching her friend with careful eyes, taking in the way her cheeks were slightly flushed and her brow was furrowed, she cleared her throat deliberately, "Lydia, are you sure you're over Jackson? I mean itwasa long time and-.''

Lydia nodded furiously, her gaze unfocused and staring ahead of her before she turned, setting wide, green eyes on her friend, "Allison, I can assure you, I'm over him. Yeah, you're right, it was a long time - but I'm pretty sure I fell out of love with him way before I even moved here'', she shrugged, her nose scrunched slightly at her words.

"So what's the deal with Stiles, then?''

Lydia let out a small chuckle, "That's the million dollar question, isn't it?'', she answered cryptically before nodding to the invitingly open door of the cafe, "Coffee?''

Lydia was sat in one of the big armchairs by the window, her tired body sinking into the cushions as her feet barely skimmed the floor. Allison was at the counter, ordering the largest, strongest coffee she could for herself, as well as Lydia's stupidly complicated one. The brunette had grimaced and groaned when she had rhymed it off, grinning at her friend's annoyance.

Allison was just paying when Lydia, caught sight of a girl across the room, a petite little thing with olive skin and long, dark hair. She was staring, dark, catlike eyes set on Lydia with a strange curiosity filling them. Lydia looked away before glancing back, seeing that the girl was still watching her. She smiled, out of habit and the manners that her mother had drilled into her from a young age, but the girl didn't return it, instead, finally dropping her stare back down to an open textbook on her table.

A few more minutes passed as Lydia picked at her nails and twisted her napkin until it turned into confetti on her lap - her skin prickled, her neck burned and she could feel someone staring at her, again. Just as she looked up to sneak another glance at the girl across the room, Allison sat down in the seat opposite from Lydia at their small table, blocking her view.

She frowned absent-mindedly as Allison passed her a mug filled with sweet scented caffeine, her stare still set over Allison's shoulder as she stretched in her seat. Ally watched her with furrowed brows and her coffee halfway to her lips, a confused smile playing there.

"Lydia? What're you doing?'' The friend twisted in her seat too, turning around and looking for what Lydia seemed to be staring at. Nothing was there apart from a scattering of people: couples holding hands, high school-ers taking photos of their frappuccinos and students sat alone, studying around a pile of books.

"What? What are you looking at?'' Allison asked, scoffing when Lydia hushed her and batted at her shoulder, trying to get her to move out of the way.

"You see that girl over there?'' Lydia whispered conspiratorially, "There, by fire exit?''

Allison glanced over her shoulder, taking a sip of her coffee as she surveyed the room. Her eyes fell on a girl who was sat alone in the corner, her eyes downcast as she read from a book.

"Who, Lara Croft?'' Allison asked, not so quietly as Lydia kicked her under the table.

The girl in question was wearing all black, Lydia had noted, from her skinny jeans, to her tank top and the bulky, intimidating combat boots on her feet. Her hair, sleek and poker straight, hung down her back and matched the rest of her outfit. Lydia tilted her head to the side and her lips quirked upwards before she nodded in approval, "yeah, Lara Croft over there.''

Allison sat back, her eyebrows raised as she looked at her friend, coffee still in hand as it warmed her fingers from the biting air outside, "Well? What about her?'' She pressed.

"She keeps staring at me'', Lydia muttered distractedly, her eyes still on the stranger who seemed to be way too interested in the textbook before her, "And she hasn't turned the page in at least five minutes... And I'm assuming you're not going to your class seeing as it's now twelve thirty?''

Allison shrugged, glaring at her watch as if the object was to blame for her Starbucks craving, "Yeah, I guess so. Besides, this is better, I get good coffee and to hear the Stiles gossip'', she took a healthy sip and flinched at the heat, "Plus, it's too f*cking cold outside to shoot arrows straight.''

"You always shoot straight'', Lydia commented, her fingers dipping into the whipped cream Allison had requested for her.

Her friend grinned widely, "I know".

Lydia smirked and was still licking the cream off of her finger when someone dropped themselves into the empty chair between them, heavy boots thudding on the wooden floor and their collection of rings clinking on the table top.

The two girls exchanged a look, eyebrows raised mouths slightly parted. The girl from across the cafe was sitting between them, her dark eyes glittering like coal as she set them on Lydia with a sly smile. She leaned forward, spicy perfume curling around the air between them.

"You're Lydia Martin, right?''

The stranger's voice was surprisingly husky for someone who was the size of a pixie, her hair swinging around her shoulders as she tilted her head and took in Lydia's surprised appearance. Allison, for once, was taken aback, her face a picture of confusion as this girl moved closer to her friend.

"Excuse me?'' Lydia managed to ask, her brow furrowed and her latte abandoned,"How do you know my name?''

"There's not many girls with strawberry blonde hair and doe eyes around here, sweetheart, especially ones who carry Biochemical textbooks in their handbag'', the strangers amused eyes dropped to the bag sat at Lydia's feet, her class books sticking out of the opening.

"Anyway, that was his description of you, not mine'', she clarified with a smile, dragging a ring clad finger over the rim of Lydia's mug. She gathered the whipped cream that dripped before sucking it into her mouth. She grinned, "It's cute, right?''

"Sorry, but what?'' Allison asked.

She was ignored and the Lara Croft lookalike continued to smile at Lydia, playing with the ends of her own hair. She quirked an eyebrow, waiting for the words that she knew Lydia was going to ask.

"Do I know you?'' Lydia edged, her voice hesitant, "Who described me? Is this a prank or something cause I really don't have ti-.''

"Stiles'', the girl confirmed casually, her finger reaching out for more whipped cream. She hummed around her finger as she licked off some caramel drizzle too. Lydia frowned down at her hijacked latte but her interest was piqued at the ever familiar name.

"Stiles Stilinski?'', Allison asked, a cautious smile on her face.

The raven haired girl finally turned to her, her eyebrow arched in a way that made Allison sit up a little straighter, "How many Stiles' do you know?''

"You know Stiles?'' Lydia asked, "Of course you know Stiles, which female on this campus doesn't know Stiles?'' She frowned as the girl laughed, nodding slightly as if agreeing with her.

But Lydia wasn't in the mood for this stranger's conversation, however much it had raised her interest. This girl was pretty, cool, edgy. She looked like someone who didn't take any sh*t and would slit your tyres in the middle of the night if you mentioned how small she was. She was most likely Stiles' flavour of the week.

"Look, I don't meant to be rude, but, I really don't want to hear about Stiles right now'', Lydia explained, "If he's not calling you back or something, there's nothing I can do about it - trust me, girls have asked me before and-''

"What's your name anyway?'' Allison interrupted, clearly more intrigued than her best friend was at the appearance of this mystery girl and her cryptic comments.

"Cora'', she told them with a flick of her hair, she turned to Lydia, "And I know all about you because Stiles told me a few weeks ago. I think it was around the time you were both royally pissed at each other.''

"That could have been any time in the last four months'', Ally stated dryly, ignoring the way Lydia scoffed at her from across the table.

"Anyway, he'd just got back from dropping you off after studying or something and he invited me round to his that night'', Cora explained with a shrug, eyeing Lydia's lukewarm latte once more.

The redhead's stomach lurched unpleasantly at Cora's admission and heat crept across her neck and chest in discomfort. She knew the night the girl was referring to, the night after they had first kissed, the night they had ended back in Stiles' bed and she woke that morning curled around him. It was the day that Stiles had tried to convince her they would be good together, that they should go out on a date - and then he had ruined it all in the Jeep with stupid words.

She blinked, clearing her throat that had become strangely tight, "Uh, he called, he invited you round to his that night?'', she stumbled over the right words to say, ignoring how Allison was watching her cautiously.

Cora nodded slowly, wondering why Lydia looked flushed, why her fingers were curled around the napkin that she had taken from the table, "Yeah, I went round to his at like two in the morning? Honestly, that boy kept me awake for freakinghours, I mean he just would not stop...''

Lydia was sure she visibly flinched because Ally's foot found hers under the table and she knocked them together softly in a way that meant comfort and understanding. Cora continued talking, her hands gesturing lazily as she sat back and crossed her legs as if she were at home.

"...Going on aboutyou'', she gushed, "Don't get me wrong, it wasn't like he was complaining, although you did piss him off that night. But he went on and on and on about you and how he didn't know what to do or how to fix it'', Cora sighed heavily, oblivious to the way the two other girls were staring at her.

"I'd never seen him get so worked up over a girl before.''

Lydia waved her hand impatiently, making Cora stop talking and glance at her with amusem*nt in her eyes, "Wait, so you didn't sleep together?''

If Cora was shocked at the girl's question, she didn't show it, instead, simply smothering a smile and shaking her head.

"So you've never had sex with Stiles?''

"Jesus Christ Lydia, this is the wrong kind of twenty questions'', Allison exclaimed, her eyes wide and staring at her best friend.

But the redhead dismissed her with a flap of an impatient hand, never taking her eyes off of Cora who was still grinning. Again, Cora shook her head and dropped the last puddle of whipped cream into her mouth. Lydia didn't notice.

"Why not?'' Lydia demanded, a little more harshly that she intended, because this time, Cora did laugh and Allison swore.

"Lydia!'' The brunette hissed, exasperated and little embarrassed by her friends behaviour.

"What?'' Lydia protested,"Stiles sleeps with everyone!''

Allison was silent for a moment, processing the information before she conceded, leaning on her elbows as she nodded sagely and said, "thatisa good point.''

They both looked at their impromptu guest, waiting impatiently for an explanation as to why she was not part of Stiles' impressive harem.

Cora looked between the two girls with arched brows, before scoffing and muttering something about 'privacy', but she relented and shrugged carelessly, "When I met Stiles in freshman year I had a boyfriend and that was that, we were friends instead, we spoke, I laughed at him picking up girls at bars and he helped me through a crappy relationship.''

"So, you're single now?'' Allison prompted, watching Lydia who was watching Cora. Tension crackled in the air.

The girl nodded.

"Why haven't you slept with him then?'' Allison whispered dramatically, making Cora laugh again.

"Have you both considered the possibility that I'm not attracted to him?''

Lydia paused and tilted her head before asking with hope, "Really?''

"Of course not, that boy is a beautiful specimen'', Cora stated as if it were obvious, "I've seen him topless way too many times in the last two years: I would do terrible,terriblethings to him.''

The tension doubled and Allison wasn't sure if Lydia was going to smack this girl or cry. She was fidgeting restlessly, her auburn hair pinched between two fingers as she curled it around them before tugging distractedly. Cora's dark gaze settled on Lydia's and she smiled slowly, her lips dragging out across her tanned skin. They curled, devious, secretive and knowing, and Allison was sure that Lydia was ready to explode - no matter how many times she denied her feelings for Stiles.

"I guess, I could have slept with him after I broke up with Boyd'', she mused thoughtfully, eyes still glinting at Lydia, "We've been drunk together enough times - and there was that time during Spring Break last year. f*ck, that night he invited me round would have been a perfect opportunity!'' Her voice was overly false, too gleeful and Lydia hated it.

Lydia sighed, clearly her throat before she spoke, determined not to let any weakness show, "Well, what's stopping you?''

She gathered her shredded napkins, dumping the white squares into her now cold latte as she stood, gesturing to the door as she caught Allison's eye.

"Well, what's so adorably interesting about this whole situation,Kitten, is thatyou'rethe one who's stopping me''.

Lydia and Allison halted on their way past Cora, their arms looped and their heads turning simultaneously, "Come again?'' Lydia asked, as Allison blurted out, "The f*ck?''

Cora smiled, a softer smile, an easier smile than the smirk that had played their before. Her eyes suddenly seemed less dark and she looked at Lydia with a mixture of curiosity and affection.

"Because, sweetheart, Stiles has no interest in looking at any other girl who isn'tyou''.

She swallowed heavily and leaned in, listening to Cora talk.

Chapter 21: Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Text

This is a pretty short chapter I’m afraid! Sorry, I’ve been stupid busy this week and I would rather give you guys something little to read rather than nothing at all.. so here you go!

“It’s when fate’s running late, we tend to mistakes.
Round and round, love to love,
it’s either way too much or not enough.”

When Lydia raised her hand to knock on the door of apartment 24B, she felt unnaturally queasy. This probably had something to do with the fact that she never asked for entrance to the boy’s home - she usually walked in, ate their food and took up half of the couch. So when her heart thundered and her chest created a storm at the sound of someone’s footsteps approaching, she wanted to yell at herself.

It had only been three hours since she was last there, playing Xbox with Kira, winding up Isaac and waiting for Stiles. Two hours since she had bumped into Cora and her thoughts and feelings had been scattered amongst latte cups and shredded napkins.

Lydia couldn’t really blame Scott for looking confused as he opened the door to her, seeing her standing there with a shy, almost embarrassed smile. She did a little wave.

“Um, hi?” The boy questioned, trying not to smile at Lydia’s expression. She looked like Bambi caught in headlights.

“Scott!” Lydia breathed, relieved that it wasn’t another tall, dark haired boy who had answered, “hi, hello - uh, is Stiles here?”

The older boy nodded, amusem*nt still dancing across his strong features. He opened the door wider for her, an uncharacteristically empty apartment behind him. The TV was off and most of Isaac’s impromptu feast had been cleared up and cleaned away. Soft rock music could be heard behind a bedroom door in the background and Lydia’s heart pumped at a faster rate than she had ever learned about in classes. Adrenaline rocked her, Cora’s words bouncing around in head like a goddamn boomerang that just wouldn’t go away.

“Look, I’ve seen Stiles with girl after girl, all of them jumping into his bed like it’s a lifeboat”, Cora smirked, arching a brow, “It’s been almost four months since he met you and I’m pretty sure half of the female student body think he’s taken up priesthood.”

She had sighed, leaning back in the large armchair with nonchalance, “I’ve never seen him like this before.”

For the first time in an age, she felt uneasy in the apartment, her shoes making too much noise on the wooden floor, the light too bright, her breath too heavy, too loud. She turned, looking at Scott who was still watching her with bemused eyes. But he didn’t question her, seeing the tense set of her shoulders and her bitten lip was enough for him to leave her be.

“He’s in his room, I think he’s just getting ready to go out”, he told her casually, moving into the kitchen, “want a soda?”, he asked, holding up a can.

Lydia was already moving to the hallway that led off to the bedrooms and bathroom, shaking her head with a small, polite smile. Her heart was still racing in her chest, desperate to get to the place that she wasn’t sure she was ready to go to. Her thumbs found the too long sleeves of her jumper and she tucked them into her palms.

“Uh, no - no thanks”, she jerked her head awkwardly in the direction of Stiles’ room, “I’m just going to go, uh, go see Stiles.”

She cringed at her own nervous voice, feeling completely idiotic that she was talking to her friend - and her best friends boyfriend - like he was a total stranger. But Scott still had a little smile playing on his lips and he nodded at her, bringing his drink to his lips. Before he took a sip, he grinned and told her: “Sure thing, Lyds.”

Looking down the hallway, to the last door on the right, Lydia felt her breath stutter out of her. She took a few steps and cringed and how loud her footsteps sounded to her. Her movements felt clumsy, awkward, like she was underwater. The song changed a different melody flooded out from underneath the door and she could hear muffled movements from behind it. Soft, slightly out of tune, singing joined it and Lydia smiled, taking a few steps. Something dropped to the floor with a thump and a desk rattled as a groan interrupted the lyrics.

Before Lydia could raise her hand to knock once again, the door swung open, her little fist meeting air instead of wood and she was greeted by a surprised Stiles. His lips fell into an ‘O’ as he saw her, before they soon stretched into a genuinely happy smile. His hair was messy and still a little wet from a shower, his grey top sticking to his damp skin. Lydia’s eyes fell over his broad shoulders, his arms that had been clumsily pulling on a shoe. But all of his movements stopped as he moved to let her in the room, the converse falling to the floor for what Lydia assumed to be the second time.

“Kitten”, he murmured in greeting, his voice dropping to that slightly lower octave - the one he seemed to use just for her, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

The girl stumbled over an appropriate response, his nickname for her still vibrating through her body in ways that shouldn’t have been allowed before four in the afternoon. She shrugged slightly, watching as Stiles’ face took on the same bemused expression that Scott’s had. Was she really that transparent? Stiles was still smiling as she floated aimlessly around his room, picking at the little knick-knacks on his desk as if it were the first time she had been there.
She avoided the always messy bed - the one she knew too well - the one that smelled like Stiles and fresh laundry, the one with only two comfortable pillows they always fought over and the one with the chipped headboard from when a wrestling match with Isaac got out of hand.

“Allison, said she’d bring me back to you, right?” Lydia quipped, her hands playing with the pages of an open Ancient Folklore textbook.

Messy, harsh sketches of Wendigos stared back up at her, an Algonquian legend that they learnt about in class last week. Stiles had teased her afterwards, pretending to bite down on her neck before eventually nipping playfully at her shoulder as they left the lecture hall.

Her cheeks burned at the memory of his lips against her skin again and she finally looked up and met his gaze. The girl regretted doing so almost immediately and she bumped her hip clumsily into the edge of the desk. He was standing beside his chest of drawers, leaning against it as if he was f*cking James Dean himself. Stiles was looking at her with those amber eyes under black, sooty lashes and wearing a self satisfied smirk that Lydia was thinking about banning. His stare traced over her, something she was used to by now, but his eyes turned soft as they met her own.

“So, is Allison with Scott?”, Stiles asked, his brows raised as if he already knew the answer.

“Uh, well, no?” Lydia replied, her voice a little too quiet, too hesitant, too soft.

Stiles smiled and let out a laugh with a breath, taking a step towards her as he pushed away from the cabinet. His hair was drying a little, making it stick up at odd angles and look impossibly soft and tuggable. Lydia glared at it.

“Is there something you wanted to tell me, Kitten?” He pulled gently on her hand and she released the hem of her jumper, her fingers curling around the tips of his own without even thinking.

He guided her to him, his movements soft, careful, as if he was worried he would scare her off. Stiles was always worried he would scare her off.

Their legs bumped together, Lydia’s body too warm under her sweater despite the colder winds outside. Her fingers were still clutching to his and it didn’t take long, or any persuasion, for Stiles to link them together.

“Why do you look so nervous?” Stiles chuckled with a smile, his smirk melting away as he took in the girls pouted lips and worried eyes, but it returned with a vengeance when he couldn’t help but add, “Kitten… do I still make you nervous?”

She swatted at him good naturedly, her hand batting his chest as he grinned. Her smile faltered only slightly and her neck warmed - but Lydia refused to let the boy know that, yes,yes he f*cking did. But by now, Stiles knew her a little too well - he could read her like the novels piled on his floor - so Lydia sank down to the mattress and Stiles followed. He knelt down on the floor in front of her, careful not to let her nervous looking gaze stray too far from his own, he frowned slightly, his lips pulling together as the girl remained silent. His hands, too big and too warm, covered her knee and upper leg, squeezing gently until she looked up at him.

“What’s wrong, Kitten? Have I done something…?” He trailed off with worry etching into his features and Lydia was quick to react.

“No! No, Stiles, no, you’ve not done anything wrong”, her hands covered one of his, fingertips tracing over calloused knuckles that had once grazed over her ribs, her hips, “It’s just, I mean-”

Lydia stumbled and tripped over words as her mouth twisted unhappily, the words feeling stuck in a mouth that was too dry. She ran her fingers over her lips, burning inside as she saw how Stiles followed their movements with curious eyes. They flicked back up to meet her gaze, dark, predatory and she mentally wrote her own obituary.

“What I wanted to say, was-”, Lydia cut herself off again, but not because the words wouldn’t come out.

She frowned, looking down at Stiles’ other hand, the one that wasn’t trailing fire over her knee. The one that was clutching the keys to his Jeep. She looked up, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip for the fifteenth time that day.

“sh*t, sorry, do you need to go somewhere?” The girl winced, feeling stupid that she had burst in on him like this. She started to move, rising from the bed and feeling Stiles’ hand slip from her jeans, leaving heat and electricity and f*cking sin itself behind.

“Huh?” Stiles answered intelligibly stepping back so Lydia could stand up without their faces being inches from each other. He coughed distractedly, his eyes still roaming over her face that was full of question.

“Oh!” He murmured, finally staring down at his keys as if he had just remembered they were there. Blinking, he swept a hand over his face and nodded slightly, “uh, yeah, crap - I was supposed to meet Malia at five.”

He began the hunt for his shoe once more and Lydia let the surprise leak onto her face as he turned his back. She swayed slightly and her brow furrowed, her lips falling open in a silent question - the one she was too scared to ask. But she did anyway.

“Malia?” Her voice sounded strained, even to her own ears, but Stiles was already on the floor, looking under his bed for his missing sneaker, “What, what’re you guys up to?”

She bit back a curse, knowing that she already sounded like the jealous girlfriend. When Stiles clambered back to his feet, now both covered in his shoes, he merely shrugged, looking like he couldn’t really be bothered leaving the room. He waved a casual hand in the air.

“Nothing much”, he explained to Lydia, running a hand through his unkempt hair, “Scott told me I should probably talk to her, y'know?”

Stiles met Lydia’s eyes and she straightened visibly, her hands clutching her sleeves once more as she painted a smile onto her lips. She felt fake, unnatural, like a doll. But she nodded as if she understood, watching as Stiles rolled up his sleeves and retrieved his cell from the desk.

“He keeps telling me I should at least explain to her, let her down easy”, the boy winced, “It’s awkward, her hanging out with us and there being all this tension - I feel like she hates me.”

'Tension’, Lydia thought, shaking her head at the word with a wry smile that contained no humour. She took a few steps towards the door, “I don’t think she hates you Stiles, in fact, her feelings for you are probably nearer the opposite end of the spectrum.”

Stiles scrunched his nose at the her words but the girl was too busy looking longingly at the exit to notice. He moved towards her, his hand brushing the small of her back as he grabbed his jacket from the hook on his door. He shrugged it on, his eyes still carefully taking in Lydia’s expression, how her face was practically hidden behind her hair. Her arms were folded, the toe of her boot scraping dejectedly against the floorboards. He cleared his throat, hoping she would look up.

“So yeah, basically, I just thought I’d go over, and yeah, clear the air with her”, Stiles said with a small smile, which Lydia returned half-heartedly.

She nodded again, still quiet as Stiles bumped her shoulder with his arm. He stood in front of her, giving her sleeve gentle little tugs until she gave in and unfolded her arms. He smiled, having won, and leaned into her.

“What was it that you were wanting to tell me?”

Lydia felt his breath moving the small hairs that curled around her cheeks, she felt the warmth radiate of his solid frame, his height making her feel small and dainty. He smelled so good, like mint and fresh laundry and everything f*cking precious in the world. She smiled and it hurt, her words becoming too thick and too heavy to push from her throat. They became stuck in her mouth, feeling wrong and bitter on her lips, but she spoke them anyway, ignoring how her chest stung.

“Uh, I was just going to say”, Lydia’s voice was low, monotone, “I was trying to tell you that-.”

Stiles waited on her with an expectant gaze, a little smile playing on his lips and he looked so encouragingly at the girl that she faltered once more, her smile becoming heavier on her own lips.

“That, I’m feeling pretty nervous about this presentation on Monday”, she nodded more at her own words than him, ignoring how his smile slipped slightly and little lines appeared between his brows, “You know, for Professor Hale’s class?”

“Hale’s class?” Stiles repeated with doubt in his voice.

“Yeah!” Lydia enthused, her eyes wide.

She rolled with the lie, her tongue still twisted and the words still jarring in her throat. Stiles arched a brow at her, disbelieving and slightly amused. Lydia clasped her hands together, as if praying for a swift exit.

“I just hate talking in front of people”, she told him, her hands fluttering in front of her with nervous movements, “just, yuck”, she added for extra effect.

“Kitten, you argue with half of the class every week”, Stiles responded, laughter humming in his words. His lips were tilting upwards, a smile growing on his lips just for her as he watched her blush, “and loudly, may I add.”

“I do not”, Lydia argued back ironically, her lips twitching as she tried to stop herself from pouting.

“You told Greenberg that his opinions were archaic and taken straight from the Xbox games he plays due to his lack of social life”.

Lydia tried to keep her expression neutral as she calmly argued, “the boy thought Red Dead Redemption was an accurate portrayal of how the myth of zombies appeared in Northern Mexico.”

Stiles’ lips twitched.

“You told our lecturer that you thought his presentation on Salem witches was overtly sexist and unnecessary.”

“It was!” Lydia huffed.

“You then proceeded to tell him that that was probably the reason he was single.”

The girls rebuttal was caught in her throat as she stared at the spot behind Stiles’ shoulder with wide, guilty eyes and parted lips. She bit down on a smile, refusing to give in.

Taking a deep breath that was filled with hidden laughter, Lydia continued, “standing up in front of everyone is different.”

Stiles hummed in response, doubt still obvious on his face. His car keys jingled in his hands, cutting through the atmosphere with noises too sharp to match the softness of their eyes.

The smile that had broken free on Lydia’s lips, slid away, weakening as she glanced at the clock on Stiles’ bedside table.

“You sure that’s it?’’ Stiles asked, his keys digging into his palm.

He watched the girl with eyes that were too soft, too readable - but she was refusing to meet them to see. Stiles took in how she curled her fingers over the knitted fabric of her sweater, how her lips were too red from the teeth that nibbled at them with worry. His fingers twitched around the metal - aching to drop the keys and reach out to her, to hug her, to take her hand, to let her sink down into bed with him.

“Yeah’’, Lydia’s words cut through his haze, images of her arching her body on top of his own leaking from his mind, “That’s it, promise’’.

Stiles’ lips twisted and he tried hard not to let the disappointment show in his voice, “okay, Kitten, if you say so’’.

Together, the walked slow steps to the doorway and into the hall, their shoulders brushing as if the world itself demanded that they touch. Stiles’ fingers wrapped around his keys whilst the other hand grazed Lydia’s hips as she walked down the hall next to him. The air hummed, his body crackled and something buzzed.

It took the boy a few seconds to realise that it was his cell and he was sure his face fell when he read the text from Malia. Despite feeling bad about his reaction, he turned to Lydia, both of them aware of Scott who sat reading from a music magazine in the living room. Stupid keys clinked noisily in his hand and Stiles sighed.

“Uh, that’s Malia, she’s already at Deaton’s so…’’ He gave her a little smile, hating how her gaze seemed to be focused on the door.

Lydia swallowed heavily as she dragged her stare away from the now full out heavenly glow the front door seemed to be emitting. Her eyes found Stiles’ and she could only return his small smile with half a heart. He pulled on one of her curls, his touch gentle and distracted.

“You better go’’, Lydia told him, swaying on the balls of her feet - she felt stupid, small, unnecessary.

“Right, yeah’’, Stiles nodded, frowning, “Uh, I’ll see you at the party tomorrow night?’’

“Party?’’

“Yeah, the one at the frat house - I thought Allison had said?’’ Stiles explained.

Lydia rolled her eyes, knowing her best friend was probably waiting to tell her at the last minute so she couldn’t - and wouldn’t - back out of it.

“What frat house?’’ Lydia asked grudgingly, knowing the answer probably wouldn’t change her hesitance to go.

“I don’t have a clue’’, Stiles told her with a lopsided smile, “the Greek one?’’ He shrugged.

“Stiles, they’re all Greek’’, Scott deadpanned from the couch, his feet tapping out an imaginary beat that had his magazine shaking slightly.

Stiles merely grinned in reply, his eyes never leaving Lydia’s face. Another few beats of silence past and Lydia was becoming close to throwing herself at the boy, pushing her lips to his and begging him to stay here with her. But she was bigger than that, so she pushed at the boy’s shoulder good naturedly, throwing him off balance and towards the door way.

“Go!’’ She urged with another false bout of cheer, “Malia will be waiting’’.

“Right’’, Stiles took a few steps backwards, his eyes still too warm and soft and all over Lydia’s body and face, “I’ll see you tomorrow night, Kitten’’.

Lydia only managed to smile tightly and nod before the boy was out the door and on his way to see another girl.

Chapter 22: Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Text

“Now we’re lost somewhere in outer space, in a hotel room where demons play.
They run around beneath our feet, we roll around beneath these sheets.’’

Stiles sighed, the morning sun still too dull and hazy to signal the beginning of a new day. So he turned in bed, facing the clock that told him it was only seven am on a Saturday. His eyes hurt from lack of sleep, his head still aching from the thoughts that had lay there all night. The boy’s bare skin was a contrast of olive and darker freckles against white sheets that still had the smell of Lydia’s perfume lingering on them so Stiles rolled over again, his face crushed into the soft fabric as he let out a little grunt of annoyance.

He heard one of his roommates in the kitchen, the soft hiss of the coffee pot as it came to life. Going by the muffled singing that came from a particularly husky throat, Stiles knew it was Scott. So he came to life a little more, stumbling out of bed and away from the comfort of his mattress. The autumn chill had leaked through his large window, biting at his skin with a nip that made its way to his bones. He shrugged on some sweatpants and grabbed an old jumper from his desk chair to pull over his head too, cursing when the same familiar smell of Lydia washed over him again.

It seemed like there was nothing that the girl hadn’t touched in his room. She was everywhere, in his clothes that she liked to borrow, in the sheets she had spent nights wrapped or tangled in, in the books and doodles she left in her wake.

Stiles padded barefoot into the kitchen, squinting slightly at the light that streamed in from the open blinds. The smell of coffee in the air and the sounds of an old punk rock band singing about their very first kiss came from the radio.
Scott stirred what looked like eggs in a frying pan before pouring some coffee into Stiles mug and handing it to his friend as he slid into a seat at the breakfast bar. Scott frowned to himself, turning back to his cooking as he spoke to Stiles over his shoulder.

“You’re up early for someone who didn’t get home until three in the morning’’, the boy scraped the spatula across the pan, not seeing how Stiles winced at the noise.

“Yeah’’, Stiles’ voice was low and gravelly, still filled with sleep and he wiped a hand over his face, “I guess Malia had more talking to do than I did.’’

Scott turned back around, frying pan in hand as he piled some eggs and bacon onto two plates. He slid one to Stiles with a nod before taking the stool opposite him and digging in. The two boys sat for several minutes in a comfortable silence, the only sounds being the radio, their forks against empty plates and Isaac’s muffled snoring from his bedroom.

“So, how did it go with Malia?’’

Stiles let out a tired sigh, knowing that this conversation was obviously going to come up. It was Scott who had urged him to clear things up with the girl, to try and find a way to bring a little less awkward tension to their newly found group dynamic. Stiles had just wished it didn’t have to be spoken about as early in the morning.

“Uh, it went well, I guess’’, Stiles’ eyes were still set on the remainder of his food, watching with too much interest as he pushed his breakfast around the plate, “We talked and I told her how I felt’’, the boy nodded, his words trailing off.

Scott stood and narrowed his eyes at the other boy, watching how Stiles was hunched over his plate, his broad shoulders set into a defensive hunch as he avoided eye contact.

“Good - that’s great, man’’, Scott told him with a nod, still trying to get Stiles to look at him, “How did she take it?’’

Scott leaned against the counter, his mug of coffee in his hand as he stared down his friend. There was guilt in the other boys face and Stiles’ tired eyes finally met Scott’s. One raised their eyebrows expectantly and the other sighed.

“Look, you can’t get mad, okay?’’ Stiles told his friend, “I didn’t mean to do it, I told Malia everything you told me to say! She just caught me off guard and, and-.’’

“And what, Stiles?’’ Scott asked, his coffee cold and forgotten about, “What did you do?’’

Lydia had awoken to another body in her bed, a slim, tall figure that curled itself around her, their chest to her back. It was too warm and too early, the sun too bright and the world too ready for another day - something that Lydia wasn’t prepared for.
When the body behind her spoke, their breath moved the hair on Lydia’s neck and made her groan out loud.

“Care to tell me why you didn’t meet Danny and I at the cinema last night?’’

Allison’s words were light and soft, but Lydia knew her friend too well and she caught the edge of annoyance that laced her lips. Lydia wiggled away from her friend, turning to glare at the brunette when she caught the quick foot that had been meant to kick her out of bed.
It was too early, Lydia had decided, her eyes still burning with the sleep she hadn’t found last night. Her shirt was tangled around her ribs and the cotton of her shorts suddenly seemed too tight, too uncomfortable around her skin.

“I wasn’t in the mood for a movie, sorry’’, Lydia grunted into her pillow, wishing, praying and hoping that Allison would take the hint and leave the subject alone.

She didn’t.

“Is this about Stiles?’’ Allison edged carefully, “About what Cora told you?’’

Lydia considered lying, she also considered just not talking, but by the time she had pushed her copper head further into her pillow, her friend had shuffled closer. Ally placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, poking an impatient finger into the hollows of her collar bones until Lydia squirmed and surfaced.
She turned to the brunette, wide, green eyes meeting concerned brown ones. Allison held her stare, prodding another playful finger at Lydia’s scrunched up nose until the redhead sighed and caved. Together, the girls pulled the sheet up and over their heads, locking them both into a little cave made of cotton and the secrets they had shared over the years.

It was a childish thought, but no matter where they were, what age they were, it always seemed quieter under the duvet that they held up with pyjama clad knees and bare, bed-warm feet. Safer and shielded from the sun that had seemed like a spotlight in an interrogation room, Lydia turned to Allison.

“So I went to talk to him after you dropped me off yesterday.’’

Allison’s mouth parted slightly in both surprise and understanding, “so, you didn’t really go to the library?’’

Lydia shook her head and swallowed heavily before continuing, “I guess I wanted to talk to him, ask him if what Cora said was true.’’

“You were really going to come out and ask him that?’’ Disbelief coloured Allison’s tone and Lydia knew better than to be offended by her friend’s surprise - Lydia was not one to confront people, not in situations that could quickly become awkward.

“Yeah, I mean, why not right?’’ The strawberry blonde shrugged, “We’ve went from arguing to making out and back again for the last couple of months and I still don’t know where the hell we’re at.’’

Lydia sighed again, rubbing tiredly at her eyes until stars swam across her vision and the sun made their little tent glow gold, “I know, it’s partly my fault too - I don’t know what I want. But I don’t know what he wants either! ‘Cause just when I think I might be falling for this guy, he does something stupid!’’

“Lydia’’, the other girl’s voice was soft, “What happened last night?’’

Despite Allison’s persistent tugs on her arm, Lydia’s face found it’s way back into her pillow and she mumbled her words with flushed cheeks and eyes that were squeezed shut.

“I went over to tell him how I felt, I suppose’’, Lydia’s words were garbled and Ally had to lean in closer to her properly, “I mean, I don’t think I had really thought it through - I just turned up and was suddenly in his room.’’

Her friend was holding her breath at this point, close enough to the other girl so that their tangled, bed- mussed hair clashed and mixed on the pillow. Allison’s fingertips skated circles over Lydia’s back, her friends choice of bed-wear making her smile.
Cartoon cat faces stared back at her from Lydia’s hips and Allison gave one of the them a little poke, prompting Lydia to continue her story.

“So there I was, standing in his room like an idiot, talking absolute sh*t and not making any sense until I realised he clearly was on his way out somewhere. And god, Ally! I felt so f*cking stupid!’’

“Oh, babe’’, Lydia felt a hand stroke over her hair, brushing it away from her forehead. She turned her head to the side, finally surfacing from the pillow so that Allison could see the hurt in her eyes.

“Lyd, what happened? Where was he going?’’

“To see Malia.’’

“YOU’RE GOING OUT WITH HER?’’ Scott’s roar was loud enough to stir Isaac, who came lumbering into the kitchen with his Iron Man bed sheets wrapped around his waist.

“What’s going on?’’ The blonde boy mumbled, one hand holding up his makeshift pyjamas whilst the other dug into the leftovers on the cooker.

“Captain f*ckboy over here is taking Malia to the frat party tonight’’, Scott accused, pointing at Stiles who now had his head in his hands.

Isaac snorted, needing no more information on the topic, he shook his head, his dirty blonde curls falling into his still sleepy eyes. He strolled over to the breakfast bar where his friend sat, giving Scott a smirk and a wink as he let his elbows fall onto the table with exaggerated arrogance. Picking at a slice of bacon that sat cold on Stiles’ plate, he prodded his exasperated friend with a finger. When Stiles looked up with narrowed eyes, Isaac grinned.

“Does that mean I can hook up with Lydia tonight?’’

Isaac had wisely and quickly moved out of the way, so when Stiles fist swiped out, it only caught air and the corner of Iron Man’s two dimensional face. Scott was grinning, clapping Isaac on the back as the boy walked past him to make his own mug of coffee. By the time the machine beeped for the second time that morning, the two friends were standing side by side and judging Stiles from the other end of the kitchen. Stiles rubbed another tired hand over his face, trying hard to ignore how the two boys he had mistakenly chosen as friends looked at him with despair on their faces.
S
tanding, the let his empty plate drop into the sink with a clatter before mirroring his roommates and leaning against the worktop. Letting his arms drop to his sides, he gestured to the two boys with open palms and an expressionless face.

“Right, come on then’’, he bit out, “drag me to the ground, you little sh*ts.’’

Scott was the first to jump in, with Isaac standing grinning beside him, “dude, at what point did I tell you to ask the girl you were trying to let down gently out on a date?’’

Stiles rolled his eyes at the obvious question and his hands flew to his hair and tugged as he took a step towards Scott. He frowned, the words he wanted to say stuck on his lips, the words he wanted to say sounding like horrible excuses that simply weren’t true.

He flung his upper body back onto the cool worktop of the breakfast bar, his cheek pressed against the counter and his arms hanging tiredly by his sides.

"I didn't ask her out!'' Stiles exclaimed, already far too agitated for such an early morning, "She asked me.''

"Maliaaskedyouout?'' Isaac asked, eyebrows raised. He peered into the fridge he had just opened before reappearing with more bacon and a carton of milk, "of course she did, it's Malia we're talking about.''

Stiles nodded and pointed a hand at Isaac, looking at Scott as if to say, 'see? He gets it.'

"Scott, I told her everything you told me to say'', Stiles let himself fall into one of the stools once more, his fingers tapping out a beat on the table surface, "I said that I wasn't looking for anything more than a friendship with her, that she was a cool girl and I was sorry for the way things played out between us.''

The other boys nodded and exchanged looks with each other before turning back to Stiles. Scott leaned against the breakfast bar, a solemn expression on his face as he asked his friend once more, "so how the f*ck did that lead to a date tonight?''

Stiles looked back with wide eyes, a hint of what looked like fear in them. He swallowed heavily and looked back and forth between the two other boys, one hand tugging his already messy hair.

"Dude, I really don't know.''

"Did she drug you?'' Isaac exclaimed, his hand hidden in a box of Cheerios, "cause if she did, that's totally not cool man.''

Scott looked like he was going to roll his eyes and berate the English boys accusation but he turned to Stiles with raised brows and a questioning look on his features. "Dude, do you think..?''

"No, she didn't drug me!'' Stiles protested with a scowl, "I didn't drink anything for her to attempt that.''

The two other boys nodded wisely, looking relieved. Stiles, on the other hand, looked more tired than he had when he'd woken up. His fingers rubbed circles on his temples and he let out a groan.

"She just, she was all... God, guys, she just came out with it and I panicked and I'd already tried to explain to her that I wanted to try and get past the whole one night stand attitude - that I wanted to try and get to know someone better, yeah?'' Stiles looked at his friends expectantly and they once again nodded, both of the boys now holding bowls of cereal in their hands.

"I guess she assumed I meant her 'cause the next thing I know, she's talking about Greenberg's party tonight and what she's wearing and the time I should pick her up'', Stiles slapped a palm over his face, grunting in frustration.

Through a mouthful of cereal, Isaac piped up smugly, "so it's safe to say she didn't click onto the fact it was Lydia you were talking about?'

"Obviously not, asshole'', was the biting reply that was returned.

Scott sighed, set down his bowl and walked over to his best friend. Stiles lifted his head as he approached, looking back at the dark haired boy glumly.

"Look man, I know you're trying to be a good guy here - and you are! You are a good guy'', Scott clarified softly, "all I'm saying is, you've got the strangest relationship with Lydia I've ever witnessed and I don't think either one of you know what you are doing... am I right?''

Stiles nodded.

"And then there's Malia'', Scott continued, "a nice, pretty girl who really likes you. You know, you could actually use tonight to genuinely try and get to know her, you never know what'll happen.''

As much as Scott's words made sense to Stiles, the boy knew it wouldn't go that way. His stomach had plummeted last night when Malia had spoken excitedly the party, the word 'date' popping up over and over again. She had grinned at him and he had smiled back weakly, his mind on another girl and the thought of how she would look when he showed up with Malia.

"I know what you're thinking'', Scott lowered his voice and Stiles' lips quirked up into a humorless smile, his friend knew him too well. "But, aren't you guys just friends? I mean, has anything else happened between you's?''

Stiles thought back to when she kissed him in the club, how he took her back to his and the spent hours kissing and touching in the dark, wrapped around the sheets in his bed. He remembered the words he spouted to Cora, despite how drunk he was, he remembered them all. They were f*cking ingrained in him along with the feeling of how her lips felt on his. And then, when she had kissed him again and he had kissed back with an intensity he had never experienced before, how good it felt with Lydia, how everything with her was warm, slow and deep and made him feel like he was floating.
The mornings he woke to the girl still asleep beside him, with the TV screen playing the credits and a textbook still on her lap and clothes still on were the best mornings. He looked forward to lectures with her, to the notes she scribbled in his margins, the way her muffled giggles made chest burn from laughter.

So when, Stiles smiled faintly and shook his head no in response to Scott's question, he felt sick.

Silence enveloped them once more and Stiles dropped his head to the counter, telling himself this was why he never got involved with girls in the first place. 'Cause they made your head hurt and your heart ache, burning down the sanity you thought you once had with f*cking strawberry blonde curls and lips that were probably inherited from the Devil himself.

Isaac's slow, noisy crunching could be heard through the tense quiet and a smirk laced his lips as he spoke once more, "I guess I could do you a solid and take Lydia to the party tonight.''

Stiles lifted his head to glare at the taller boy as Scott turned and gave him a look of warning. Still grinning and taking no heed in the dangerous slit of Stiles' eyes, he continued.

"Do you think she'll let me call her Kitten too?''

Allison had returned with two Starbucks cups in hand, a bag of still warm doughnuts tucked under her arm and a sympathetic smile on her lips. Her friend was nothing more than a little lump underneath her duvet, her copper hair spilling out and over the side of the mattress and looking like flames in the morning glow.
The bed dipped as the brunette sat, hearing only a gurgled moan in return. She prodded at Lydia, slipping the bag of sugary treats under the blanket, much like her Stiles given namesake, she reacted quickly, one hand shooting out to grab at the doughnuts. The disappeared under the duvet and Allison rolled her eyes as the paper crackled and opened. A moan of delight was heard and the girl waited for several minutes before Lydia surfaced without a frown and one doughnut less in the bag.

She sighed, thanking her friend silently for the breakfast with a gentle butt of her head to Allison's shoulder. The girl replied by patting Lydia's messy curls and taking a sip of her latte, handing Lydia her own. Silence stretched by comfortably, the sun outside getting higher and making Lydia moan in response to its bright light. When the last doughnut was split between them and the coffee cups sat abandoned and empty, Allison spoke.

"Look, we don't actually know what happened last night'', she said reasonably, her legs stripped of the sweatpants she had pulled on and now lying beside Lydia's, "there's a chance that they just spoke - they've not hooked up in months.''

Lydia grunted.

"Remember what Cora said? How she had never seen him so interested in just one girl?''

Allison's words made Lydia sigh, because, how could she have forgotten what Cora told her? Their encounter with the older girl hadn't left her mind, the curious and almost unbelievable words she had spoken were now ingrained into Lydia's mind. She turned to her friend, pouting and letting her head fall onto her shoulder.

"I guess'', Lydia shrugged, "It's just that I hear that from a total stranger and then he proves me wrong - again - by doing the opposite. He hurts my head. How am I supposed to know what he got up to with her? Isn't he f*cking famous around here for hooking up with everyone and anyone?'' she whined.

"Fine, I'll call Scott, okay?'' Allison said reasonably, rolling out of bed and grabbing her cell from the desk, "I'll just ask him what Stiles was doing with Malia last night and then everything will be good, yeah?''

Lydia rolled her eyes and found her now natural position of 'head in pillow'.

"You're as subtle as abrick'', she yelled, her voice muffled.

Allison shushed her, waving an impatient hand that was ignored as Lydia continued to groan into her pillow, sounding more and more like a dying whale as Allison's phone rang. When Scott finally picked up and Allison responded with a bright and cheery 'hello' - too cheery, in Lydia's opinion - the redhead crawled out from her cave and watched her friend warily.

"Listen, Scott, I was calling to ask-''.

The girl was cut off and only the muffled voice of Scott could be heard from the other end. When Allison's lips parted and a confused expression passed over her pretty features, Lydia stood, a frown etched onto her face.

"Uh, sure, yeah... no problem'', Allison spoke slowly, looking at Lydia with puzzled eyes. When Lydia raised her eyebrows in question, Allison merely shrugged and mouthed, 'no idea'.

"Hello? Yeah, okay'', Ally batted Lydia's hands away, before giving in and allowing the smaller girl to tug the phone down to her own ear level. Together, the listened to the noise in the background, muffled yelps and the strained voice of Scott telling them, "I need to go, I'll call you later!''

The line went dead and the girls stood in the middle of their dorm, cell in hand and confusion lingering around them.

"For f*ck sake, Isaac, you're getting blood over the floor!'', Scott moaned, "Get your head over the sink!''

Scott was tucking his cell back into his pocket and avoiding the spots of blood Isaac had managed to dot over the kitchen floor. He turned and pointed an accusing finger at Stiles who was sitting on the opposite counter, a bruised hand nursing his jaw.

"You!'' Scott yelled.

Stiles pouted.

"You're such a little sh*t!'' Scott complained, guiding Isaac to the sink, "was that really necessary?''

Stiles looked over to his friend, his mind ticking over as Isaac moaned when more blood dripped from his nose. He took in the boys disgruntled features, his narrowed eyes that were still glaring at Stiles as Scott helped him wipe away the blood with old cloths.

“It’s not even nine in the morning, for f*ck sake’’, Isaac grumbled unintelligibly, his nose swollen, “we’re f*cking sober!’’

His complaints were ignored and Stiles turned to Scott instead: “Yes’’, Stiles answered bluntly, hating the way the word ‘kitten’ sounded on someone else’s lips.

Isaac scowled and Scott sighed, both of them looking at their friend with various degrees of annoyance. Isaac turned, leaning against the counter and swiping at his nose. He batted away Scott’s hands with a huff, still eyeing Stiles warily.

“He deserved it’’, Stiles continued, “he winds me up, every time!’’

Scott looked sheepish as he glanced at the third boy, his hand scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“You are a bit of a dick.’’

Stiles snigg*red and Isaac rolled his eyes, throwing the dish towel he’d used to wipe at the floor in Stiles’ general direction, “I have such good friends’’, he snarked.

“You know Lydia is a sensitive subject’’, Scott remarked, handing both of his friends some ice packs, “play nice, Isaac, for once in your life.’’

“He’s the one who hit me!’’ The boy complained fiercely, taking the freezing gel and applying it to his nose. He winced, glaring at Stiles once more.

Stiles simply smirked, taking his own ice pack and pressing it against his jaw, “whatever, you got your own hit in too, okay?’’ He gestured wildly to his now bruising skin and Isaac smiled in satisfaction.

“Okay?’’ Scott clarified, looking between the two beaten and bruised boys.

When they both nodded he sighed, looking back down at his cell and wondering if it was safe to call his girlfriend back. When Stiles and Isaac moved into the living room and started yelling about whose turn it was with the less broken controller, he sighed, pocketing his cell and rubbing his tired eyes.

When Kira turned up at the girls dorm at eight o’clock that night with a bottle of tequila and some apple flavoured vodka, Lydia wondered if they would ever make it across campus. She was sitting in her desk chair, letting Kira tease her hair into messy waves that draped down her back as she helped Allison pick the perfect colour of lipstick.

Music was blaring from all directions, not just their room, and the hallway outside was packed with students going to and from parties and get togethers. Outside, the courtyard was filled with people from bars downtown, all shouting louder than the other about the two for one shot deals they had that night. The night was still early, and the sun was yet to properly set, but Lydia felt a buzz in the air that wasn’t always there. It tugged impatiently at her stomach, making her hands unsettled and her bones vibrate.
So when Kira happily and proudly declared that her hair was finished, Lydia jumped from the chair, thanking her friend before diving into her wardrobe.

“So, how come Malia isn’t getting ready with us tonight?’’ Allison asked curiously, ignoring Lydia’s obvious glare at her more obvious question.

Kira, either oblivious or not bothered, simply shrugged, “I think she said something about a date, so he’s picking her up at ours’’, her fingers reached out to pick an electric green nail polish, “she didn’t really say much about it.’’

Allison merely nodded in reply, carefully applying a deep shade of purple to her lips. Lydia’s hands, however, halted at her friend's words and second, she wondered if the date was a boy she knew well. Fingers lingered on the safe, cotton fabric of a sun dress she adored and her heart suddenly seemed as if it was beating from inside her head. Swallowing the unease she felt, she turned and reached over Allison to grab the bottle of tequila. Forgoing the shot glass that was on her bedside table, she tipped the bottle back and let some of the amber liquid spill into her lips. She winced at the taste, letting the burn warm her throat and her friend’s shocked laughter settle her nerves.

Turning her back on the two girls, she rooted around her wardrobe before returning with another dress in her hands. Holding it against her underwear clad body, she raised her brows and gestured to it smugly.

“What about this?’’

When Allison whooped and hollered in reply and Kira raised her arms with an excited squeal, Lydia nodded, setting the dress to one side - hoping, wishing and f*cking praying, that tonight went the way she wanted it to.

It didn’t.

A boy that she knew who would taste of whiskey, who had eyes the same colour.

So when Lydia teetered up the crowded front steps in Allison’s borrowed heels, her two friends giggling behind her, the last thing she expected to find was the boy she had been aching to see, hand in hand with another girl. Lydia’s heart fell and her head tilted to the side with morbid curiosity as her eyes took in the sight of Malia’s pretty reduce skirt, her little matching top showing tanned skin and impressive cleavage.
Her stomach bubbled at the way one of her manicured hands curled around Stiles’, how the other brushed his chest as she laughed at something he said - and when Allison murmured her name sadly in her ear, she didn’t really hear it. ‘Cause it would hurt too much to accept the pity her tone held, it would be like admitting defeat to let her friend comfort her.

Lydia smiled brightly instead, sharing a look of warning with Allison that meant, ‘don’t, please, don’t say it.’ Allison nodded and shared the same bright, too false smile with her best friend, allowing Lydia to lead Kira and herself to the mess of the kitchen. The smell of liquor hung in the air, draping around Lydia like an uncomfortable weight and the smoke that was almost too sweet to bear swam around the room. The girl grabbed the first bottles she saw, handing the other two girls a beer as she took a long drag.

“Are you okay?’’ Kira yelled over the thumping music, turning to scowl at a freshman who bumped into her clumsily.

“Peachy’’, Lydia replied, ignoring Allison’s watchful stare, “can we just have a good night without the guys? Please?’’ She asked, spotting Isaac’s tall frame over the heads of other drunken students.

Where Isaac, was the other two weren’t far away. Like the angels Lydia knew they were, Kira and Ally nodded, pulling her onto the makeshift dance floor in the space between two couple covered couches. Lights were dimmed and the crowded yelled their approval as someone turned on a set of old DJ lights, the room filled with neon and making Lydia’s skin turn aqua. She moved to the beat, grudgingly at first as self consciousness flooded her veins, leaving no room for alcohol.

But Ally grabbed her hands, both of them cold from the icy bottle she had now abandoned, and together they moved. Hips swayed and laughter bubbled in Lydia’s chest as Kira let out little excited hoots and hollers, Allison’s dangerous smirk drawing in attention around the room. The brunette pulled her friend closer, grinning and swaying until their hair mixed and draped over each others bodies - copper with chocolate. Their bodies bumped as the music picked up, Kira twirling beside Lydia and singing just as loud as the music, her arms in the air and her eyes daring anyone to laugh at her. No one did.

Lydia let out the grin she was fighting, her hands finally freeing themselves from the tight fists they had created. She reached up, finding comfort in the lengths of her curls as she played with the ends, her hips swaying and dropping with the beat. Ally encouraged her with hands on her waist, her tight dress enhancing every touch, feel and twist of her body. Soon, she was laughing again and Kira handed her cups filled with pretty, pink liquid that sparkled like galaxies and tasted like electricity.

But then Scott was there, grinning and kissing Allison hello, taking her away from Lydia and into his own arms; and suddenly, there was no confidence anymore, no support. So, Lydia looked for Kira in the crowds, only to see Isaac behind her with too many bottles of bourbon in his hands, his hair damp and lipstick on his neck.
Behind him, was Stiles, alone and with eyes darker than coal. His gaze was set on her, piercing and direct as he moved across the room and through the hordes of dancing bodies. His eyes slipped down her frame and she saw his lips stumble over a curse that slipped out unheard over the music and Lydia smirked, her hips shifting to the bass in response. She spun, away from him and to Kira, who grinned and took her hands, both of them beginning to move once more.

Stiles swore out loud when he saw her, a muttered ‘f*ck’ that faded into throbbing bass lines and beating drums. She wore a smile that was cherry red and a dress with long sleeves and a high neck - black all over and contrasting strikingly with her hair that looked like she had just rolled out of his bed. The problem was the way the dress clung to her, hugged her f*ckingeverywherelike a second skin. It stopped high on her legs, curving around her thighs in a way that made Stiles wondered how she’d managed to walk. Heels that he knew were definitely not hers brought her closer to his height, and when he got near enough to her, his lips came to ear without having to stoop and he reveled in it.

“Kitten’’, he toyed, his voice gravelly from the shouting he had done earlier when trying to talk, “you didn’t tell me you were here.’’

His hands found her hips as if they were magnets, both of them two opposites that not even the universe would let stay apart. Lydia let the heat of his palm burn her for only a second before her body dipped and twisted out of his grasp as another song kicked in. Stiles raised an eyebrow as he looked down at her, his lips twitching into an almost smile. Lydia smiled back, saccharine sweet.

“You seemed busy’’, she yelled back to him, the thump of the drums now in her rib cage, so loud that she wasn’t sure if her heart still had its own beat.

She continued to dance, an exuberant Kira by her side, whose own enthusiastic moves pushed her into Stiles’ body more than she would have liked. Lights flashed, turning the boy’s bemused face from fuchsia to bright blue, his eyes staying that forever burning shade of chocolate. He leaned in, deciding to leave his hands by his sides as his lips brushed her ear instead.

“You know I’m never too busy for you’’, he told her with obvious honesty, pulling back only slightly, just enough to see her lips part and her eyes soften a little.

Lydia had an edge to her tonight and Stiles wasn’t sure what it was or what caused her mood, but he was sure he was going to get cut from it. She seemed to have pulled herself tighter, her eyes were still guarded, her expression wary. Kitten looked pissed - and not because of the alcohol.

"I assumed you would want to be left alone with your girlfriend", Lydia bit, letting her emotions show more than she wanted to.

She avoided his gaze and Stiles licked at his lips as he nodded in understanding. His fingers brushed her own as the crowd made them sway with the music, unintentional and infuriatingly close.

"My girlfriend?" He queried, "Kitten, unless you're setting me up without my knowledge, I'm not sure I know what you're talking about."

His lips were dangerously near again; if Lydia turned her head she was certain that they would brush her own and she felt the familiar prickle of heat grace her neck, her chest, over her thighs. She laughed humorlessly, the sound swallowed by the roar of the crowd around her. The girl lifted her chin to meet Stiles amused gaze and she became braver as his eyes dropped to her lips, the ones only inches from his own.

"Girlfriend, date, f*ck buddy for the night, whatever", Lydia told him with cutting lips that tasted like vodka, "go find Malia, Stiles, I'm sure she'll be looking for you."

Without waiting for his response, she turned, her body brushing up against his one last time as she battled her way out of the pulsing crowd. Kira followed quickly with a concerned Allison behind her, her hand leaving Scott's.

"Stiles?"

Malia snapped her fingers in front of the his face, watching with an irked expression as the boy finally came to life, looking down at her confused.

"Huh?"

"I've asked you three times now if you want another drink", Malia frowned, her pink lips turned down, "are you even listening to me?"

Stiles immediately felt bad, guilt settling in his stomach. He had been standing in the corner of a crowded games room, Malia by his side and Isaac playing pool with some lacrosse players. His mind has been practically black, the pounding music nothing more than a dull roar in his ears. His eye were fixated on the wide archway in front of him, waiting impatiently for a flash of strawberry blonde hair. He hadn't seen Lydia, or Kira and Allison, in over an hour.

"Sorry", he breathed with an apologetic smile, before repeating, "sorry, I'm just tired."

Malia simply smiled in return, her body brushing up against Stiles' in a way that he knew was deliberate. He swallowed a sigh, sharing a glance with Isaac over the pool table. His friends features could only just be seen in the dimmed light, but Stiles could make out his knowing stare and the infuriating smirk on his lips as he potted the black.

Shaking his head, Stiles bit his lip, looking around the room for an escape. He downed the rest of his beer, still feeling like the most sober person in the frat house after only having two bottles. He glanced at Malia's empty cup before leaning into her and telling her he'd bring her another drink.

Once Stiles found himself back in the living room, it wasn't difficult to spot Lydia. She was tucked into a corner of the room, Allison and Scott standing nearby. Her small frame was illuminated by the still flashing lights, her hair turning neon and her porcelain skin a pastel shade of lilac. Her eyes found his briefly before she was hidden by another body, someone who stood too close to her for Stiles' liking.

He slipped between the gyrating bodies with ease, ignoring the way other girls looked at him, their lips curled and their eyes curious. The air now too warm, filled with heat from the bodies and the floor was sticky under his feet. His golden gaze was set on the strawberry blonde head a few feet away from him and he felt an almost animalistic urge when he watched the stranger place his hand on her waist.

He cleared his throat as he came to halt beside the pair, feeling smug as he stood just a few inches taller than Lydia's new friend. Stiles wrapped his lips around the fresh beer he had grabbed from a table and he took a long drag to stop himself from grinning. Lydia was glaring up at him, her eyes an emerald blaze of fury.

"Stiles", she ground out in greeting, one hand curling into a fist, the other gripping her red cup until her knuckles turned white.

"Hello again, Kitten", he winked, his lips curling into a smile as he watched the stranger frown at him.

Tension crackled in the air and when Stiles made it obvious he wasn't planning on leaving, Lydia rolled her eyes and sighed. She gestured impatiently towards the guy who was still standing too close to her.

"Stiles, this is Jordan Parrish. Jordan this is my friend'sroommate, Stiles."

Stiles let out a breathy laugh at Lydia's attempt to piss him off but instead he leaned into her, his eyes still fixed on the Parrish guy.

"Naughty Kitten", he tutted, chuckling into her curls when she inhaled sharply.

Stiles looked the older boy up and down before conceding and shaking Jordan's offered hand. He grinned impishly at Lydia as if to say, 'see, I can behave'.

Awkwardness and the beat of the bass bathed them and Lydia took a large gulp from her cup, wincing at the burn of alcohol that tasted like sugar and coconut.
Stiles raised his bottle to his lips too, hiding another smile and Lydia glowered at him as her new acquaintances studied his shoes. In the corner, Allison and Scott stared at the trio, both friends shaking their heads at at Stiles' audacity.

"So!" Jordan said brightly, finally interrupting the smirks and glares Lydia and Stiles were silently sharing, "you go to college with Lydia?"

Stiles plastered a polite smile on his lips and turned to the boy, "oh yeah, we spend a lot of time together, don't we Lydia?"

Lydia smiled tightly, her eyes narrowed into slits as she tried to avoid the sly fingertips that Stiles was using to brush against her hip.

“What about yourself, do you go to Princeton?’’ Stiles asked Jordan, his eyes glittering with silent laughter as Lydia fidgeted beside him, her lips pursed and her cheeks flushed.

“I used to - I graduated last year actually. I work as security down at the mall’’, the older boy smiled, oblivious and unfazed by the smirk Stiles wore.

“Ooh, ambitious’’, Stiles quipped, his words light and playful but his still eyes sparkling dangerously as his lips twitched, a sure sign he was fighting off another smile.

“Right, that’s it’’, Lydia stated, and before either boy could ask what she meant, she grabbed Stiles’ hand and dragged him away.

He snigg*red as Lydia pulled at him with surprising strength, loving the way he was able to watch her body sway and twist through the crowd in front of them. Stiles had enough time to throw a wink over his shoulder to a confused Jordan before Lydia lead him round the corner and out of sight, his beer bottle hanging from his fingertips and a slow, wolfish smile stretched out on his lips.

The door slammed shut, another vibration that Stiles felt in his chest along with the bass. A song started up from the living room, a low, dirty beat that pulsed through the crowded house. The room was dark until an agitated Lydia found a switch, bathing what seemed to be a lounge in a yellow glow. The light flickered as pounding feet ran around on the floor above.

“Are you drunk? Is that why you’re being such an asshole?’’ Lydia bit out, her arms crossed over her chest and making that f*cking dress seem even more tighter.

Stiles drained the last of his beer before setting the bottle down on a table with a clink. He walked towards Lydia with slow, deliberate steps, his eyes dark and dangerous, “ no, are you drunk? Huh? Is that why you’re with that guy?’’

The girl looked like she wanted to yell at him and Stiles didn’t blame her, he was stripping the emotion she usually made him show from his face, only his hooded eyes giving away the effect she had on him. Lydia pulled herself up to her full height, the added heels making her an intimidating opponent.

“Screw you, I’m not f*cking drunk’’, she hissed, “I can be angry with you without needing the excuse of being wasted, Stiles, surely you know that by now.’’

“Well aware, Kitten’’, he smirked, reveling in the way her eyes lit up angrily at his sarcasm, his relaxed posture.

He leaned back against the wall, his eyes still meeting hers in utter defiance as lyrics from someone’s iPod speakers floated into their empty room.

‘He said ooh baby girl, you know we’re gonna be legends.’

The light fixture above flickered and rattled once more, thumping steps and raucous cheers from above making Lydia look up, only to have her gaze stolen by Stiles once more. She took a step forward, her hands going to her hair as she bit down on her bottom lip. It was the same dance as before, the same game they had already played. Stiles knew the look on her face well, recognizing the way her hands twisted into her curls, how her eyes became darker versions of the green jewels they usually were.

‘I’m the king and you’re the queen and we’ll stumble through heaven.’

“What’s it going to be this time then Kitten? You wanna yell at me? Huh? Wanna get it all out?’’ Stiles hated himself as he let the words fall from his mouth but he continued anyway, the tension in his head, his body, in the entire f*cking room pressing into him, “Well?’’

He gazed at Lydia with wild eyes and she glared at him, her own eyes the prettiest weapons he had ever seen. The boy took another brave step forward until only a few feet separated them. From here, he saw the rise and fall of her chest, the twitch of her nose that told him to tread carefully, very f*cking carefully.

‘If there’s a light at the end, it’s just the sun in your eyes, I know you wanna go to heaven but you’re human tonight.’

He ignored it and took one more step.

“Or are you just going to kiss me again?’’

Lydia let out a noise of disgust and her hand flew out to catch Stiles on the chest, her bottom lip trembling. Her mouth spouted curses as the boy caught her wrist, looking at her with the ghost of a smirk. He pulled her forward slightly, always gentle, always aware of how tiny she was in comparison to him. Small - but definitely not weak.

‘AndI'vebeen sitting at the bottom of the swimming pool, for a while now, drowningmy thoughts out, the sounds.’

“Don’t hit, Kitten, it’s not nice’’, he mocked softly, his stare falling to her now heaving chest, her whole being was crackling and fizzing with anger and Stiles knew he had already willingly sacrificed himself to get burnt.

“You’re not f*cking nice!’’ The girl spat, her voice breaking and making Stiles crumble with her.

‘But do you feel like a young god? You know the two of us are just young gods. And we’ll be flying through the streets with the people underneath, and they’re running, running, running again.’

She stumbled backwards slightly, swearing in protest as she finally kicked off Allison’s heels and brought herself down to her five foot three frame. Stiles ignored the urge to smile.

“You!’’ She ranted, “You think this is all one big game, don’t you? Is that it, Stiles? Do you just likeplayingwith me?’’

‘And we’ll be running, running, running again...’

“Did you tell Cora to tell me those things? Huh? Was she all part of this plan to make me actually believe you liked me? Did you enjoy the look on my face when you told me you were going to see Malia last night?’’

Stiles swore under his breath, running a hand through his hair and making it a rough mess. He backed up, his hand curling against the edge of a desk as he stared at Lydia.

“You spoke to Cora? How…?’’ He licked his lips nervously, “When?’’

“The other day, she introduced herself to me in Starbucks’’, Lydia spat, “she was telling me all about how you’re sodifferentnow, how you haven’t been throwing yourself into a different girl’s bed every night’’, her tone was short, mocking and her smile was scathing.

Lydia threw her hands out the sides and she scoffed, watching Stiles as he stared at the ground, his jaw clenched.

“And I believed her, like anidiot, because I knew what you were like before Stiles, I’ve heard it all from pretty much every girl on campus’’, Lydia shook her head, “and on day one, I told myself I would stay away from you - because, you, Stiles Stilinski, should come with a f*cking warning.’’

Stiles let out a bitter laugh and finally lifted his head, looking at Lydia with such fierceness that she took a small step back. Her hands dropped to her sides and she suddenly wished she had another drink to dull her senses.
He swiped a thumb over his bottom lip, her words resonating within in him along with the same pulsing beat from the music outside the closed door. The walls seemed to vibrate, matching his erratic heartbeat that he was sure Lydia could see under his shirt. He was done - laid bare - and tired.

“You think that I’m playing with you? That I would do something like that?’’ His voice was eerily calm compared to Lydia’s coarse and cutting words, “you think I’m toying with you, getting off on watching you blow up on me like this?’’

When the girl could do nothing but shrug helplessly, Stiles slammed his palm onto the table, his still bruised knuckles protesting heavily through his alcohol laced veins. His lips tasted like blood as he bit down on them, staring at the girl who he knew had a cherry flavoured tongue and fire in her throat.

“I f*cking hate this, Lydia!’’ He groaned, “I hate seeing you like this, I hate that I’m here with a girl that isn’t you and most of all, I hate that you don’t f*cking get it!’’

He moved forward again, pushing away from the desk and taking careful steps towards Lydia when he seen that the girl didn’t move away. His hands hovered by his sides, his fingers twitching and his body aching to touch her.

“I’ve done everything I thought was right’’, he murmured, “maybe not in the right order, maybe not before I let you kiss me that night ,before I took you back to my bed - but I gave you the space I thought you wanted, the time you told me you needed.’’

‘He said ooh baby girl, don’t get caught on my edges, I’m the king of everything and my tongue is a weapon.’

“And it was hard, Kitten’’, Stiles laughed humorlessly, “it was really f*cking difficult. ‘Cause I’ve never encountered a girl like you before - you’re quiet and deadly and you’re smarter than someone who’s a thousand years old, and sometimes, you look like you can talk to the wind.’’

‘There’s a light in the crack that’s separating your thighs...’

“You kiss me, twice, looking at me with eyes like sin and telling me you want me, that you really do, you just don’t know when’’, Stiles continued, “And I got that, I understood that, but you play and you tease, Kitten, you touch me and curl up beside me and I don’t know what to think anymore.’’

‘...and if you want to go to heaven you should f*ck me tonight.’

“So don’t get all pissy when I turn up to one party with a girl who does like me, who’s told me that she wants to be with me. I’ve played all the games there is to play, Kitten, and I’m bored now.’’

He moved closer, just by a fraction, but it was enough for their hands to brush by their sides and the tiny hairs on Lydia’s arms to stand up. Her dress suddenly felt too tight, the air was pressing down on her, the music, Stiles’ words fighting for dominance in her ears. Bass rocked through her, the floor under her bare feet thumping to a drum beat she was too far away to actually hear properly. Stiles was there, he was always right there.

“I make you nervous, Kitten, IknowI do’’, the boy leaned forward, his neck bowed as he melted into Lydia’s smaller frame. His lips found her ear, his words creating havoc in her mind, “Cause you’ve never been able to hide it. But just say ‘f*ck it’ and do what you want for once.’’

His fingers grazed the inside of her wrist and she inhaled sharply, her initial anger replaced with something else - an emotion just as strong but more heady, red hot andso f*cking aliveinside her.

“Just stop f*ckingoverthinkingeverything’’, the boys words were on her lips now, little bites of his warm breath falling against her, “Stop telling yourself that you’re notallowedto want me.’’

She closed her eyes, a whimper in her throat and her own fingers finding their way between his. His palm was warm in her own, nothing like the unfamiliar hand that Jordan had placed on her waist earlier. Stiles was there, right there, always there.

“I know you do, Kitten, you want me just as much as I want you’’, he whispered into her skin, his cheek pressed to hers as his lips hovered above the curve of her jaw, “it’s not a goddamn crime. Lydia, I don’t want anyone but you.’’

Lydia tasted Stiles’ final words on her lips when, for the first time, he kissed her. She forgot how good it was, how good it felt, for his lips to be pressed against her own. And they stood there, together, motionless and dazed as their mouths dragged away from one another's, only for a second. ‘Cause after they sucked in a breath of relief, of desperation, they fused themselves to each other and Lydia f*cking whimpered, because Stiles kissed with his entire being, from the way his hands found her waist, the curve of her hips, the tilt of her chin, to how he moaned into her lips, tasting her with his tongue. She traced his cheekbones with trembling fingertips, her hands delving into his hair and tugging eagerly as they stumbled and swayed with pent up tension.
Lights above flickered once more, but this time, neither of them heard the shouts and roars from the party.

Stiles pinned Lydia against the nearest wall with a smoothness that the girl would never get over, his rough palms cradling her bare thighs as he held her to his body, her legs curling around him without the need to be prompted. They were gasping, their chests panting, as Stiles looked down at the girl pressed underneath him like she was made of gold. His feverish lips made paths from the corners of her open mouth to her nose, brushing her eyelashes before sweeping over her forehead. Lydia clung to him, mewling in impatient protest until he pressed his mouth back to hers, groaning low and heavy into her as she bowed her body into his own.

His hands pushed into the confines of her tortuously tight dress, his palms trapped between the material and the warm skin of her thigh. Stiles pressed himself into her, deciding that if he could live off the way Lydia moaned his name, he would. He traced the edge of the girls underwear with skilled fingers, the lacy border teasing him just as much as it did the first time round.

“Stiles.’’

The boy merely nodded in reply to the girls moan, his hands tightening around thighs, cause f*ck, he was so hard he was going to punch through the wall. Lydia was wriggling against him, her back against the cold paint and her front pressing into his. The godforsaken dress was dangerously high now, lace peeking out from underneath and taunting Stiles in the low light. His black eyes dragged over her gasping lips, swollen and pouted and he squeezed them shut, everything - her touch, her smell, her taste - too much for him to bear.

“Stiles, please.’’

Lydia whimpered again and Stiles into the skin on her neck, his hands giving up on trying to still her eager hips that were desperate to seek friction on his.

“What do you want, Kitten? What is it?’’ Stiles’ voice was nothing more than a soft, low murmur and he was sure the only way the girl heard it over the music was ‘cause they were whispered into her parted lips.

He would have gave her his entire goddamn world if she’d asked him then and he would have handed it to her on a silver platter.

But when she told him in a voice laced with desire and sin, “please, I need you’’, he groaned, his body stilling against hers before he grudgingly let her slip down his tense frame.

Lydia moved slowly to the floor, her toes finding the cold carpet underneath her with shock and confusion. She was still against the wall, with Stiles holding her to him with every hard plane of his body. His arms were round her waist, his fingers pressing into her waist just on the right side of pleasurable. His eyes were a bolt to her chest, hooded and heavy, set on her own like and looking like contained fire. The boy was no stranger to quick fumbles, drunken hook ups in strange rooms at crowded parties - but looking down at the girl before him, with hair that was messy from his eager hands and lips that were swollen and matching his own, he shook his head.

He soothed away the look of rejection that swept across Lydia’s face with kisses lighter than before, knuckles and fingertips that brushed cheekbones and the slope of her neck. He tugged her into him with gentle hands, placing more slow, achingly deep kisses on her lips before stealing her breath away all over again.

When they parted, Stiles kept his lips on the corner of her own, savoring the feel of them against his as he spoke softly.

“Not like this, not here Kitten’’, he was so quiet against her, soft and hard all at once, gentle lips and demanding hands, “Not that, not like this, not withyou.’’

Chapter 23: Chapter Twenty Three.

Chapter Text

"We were in love, but in all the wrong f*cking moments.’’

It was still dark when Lydia woke up on Sunday morning, her hair clinging to her damp cheeks and neck. It was too warm in Stiles’ room, the windows shut tight against the October cold that had left a slight frost over campus. But in bed, with Stiles’ shirt wrapped around her and vodka still burning through her veins, she was too hot. Her phone told her it was just past seven in the morning, which explained the unusual silence that was clinging to the apartment. She smiled at photo Kira must have placed as her wallpaper, the three of them scrunched together to fit into the frame. Allison was laughing at something she couldn't see and Lydia was squashed between her and Kira, their cheeks pressed together with smiles brighter than the violet lights that swam over them.

More memories of the night before came back to the girl and she turned in bed, the sheets gathering around her waist and her lace underwear twisting against her hips. Her hands found the cool side of the mattress, empty and not slept in. She gazed at the empty pillow for a beat, for two, before remembering stumbling into the room with Stiles only four hours earlier.

“Kitten, behave, please’’, Stiles muttered, a ghost of an amused smile on his lips.

They were in the hallway of his building, their friends standing around them in various stages of drunk and disorderly. Kira was falling asleep against Allison, a little furrow between her brows as she garbled impatiently at Scott who was still trying to fit his key into the lock, for the sixth time. Allison merely giggled at her boyfriend's fumbles, choosing to observe rather than help. A red cup was still in the hand that wasn't clutching Kira, the pretty pink liquid glittering dangerously inside it. She took a sip and hiccuped.

Isaac was stumbling behind them, singing to himself as he inspected the small, ceramic elephant he seemed to have acquired. He twirled, rather gracefully for someone as intoxicated as he was, before promptly leaning against the wall and closing his eyes.
With their friend’s attention so distracted - and well, limited - Lydia was taking advantage. She was leaning against Stiles who welcomed her embrace happily, her tiny little body tucked into his as she held her heels in one hand and placed the other on his waist. When Scott swore loudly and tried to open the door for the seventh time, Lydia pressed her face into Stiles chest, grinning into the soft fabric of his shirt as her fingertips danced along the edge of his jeans, warm skin coming into contact with her own. She glided over the ripples of muscle she found there, dipping her fingers into the hollows of his hipbones.

The sharp intake of breath the boy took only encouraged her and she only halted when he swore into the top of her head, the sound muffled by her tangles of curls.

“That’s not behaving’’, Stiles coughed out with a laugh in his throat, “not at all.’’

But the girl looked up at him with magic glittering in her eyes and he felt a fire pop and fizz inside his bones. Lydia rested her chin on his chest, the top of her copper head barely reaching his shoulders as she let out a smile that she saved only for Stiles. He battled with the urge to kiss her again, right there, in front of everyone. But he crushed it back inside of him, swearing internally at it before he slammed it back into the box he’d hidden it in for months and settled for tapping her nose affectionately. She grinned up at him, freckles dancing across her cheeks, a remainder of the summer and fuelling every fantasy Stiles had ever had about her, ‘cause god almighty, the girl was f*cking gorgeous.

So when her little hands, soft and warm and seemingly on a goddamn mission, found their way back up his shirt, he allowed it with a smirk. ‘Cause he was a weak, weak man and he could still taste the apple vodka she had drank in his own mouth, feel her lashes flutter against his cheekbones. With more sleep lacing her actions, Lydia lay her head against Stiles’ chest, her palms soothing themselves across the boys ribs, enjoying the way his body tightened at her touch.

When Scott swore once more, loudly enough to evoke an angry response from their neighbouring students, Isaac came back to life, tucking his little elephant into his shirt pocket before squeezing between an irritated Kira and Allison.
Upon seeing Isaac roll up his sleeves and raise his leg, ready to kick down the door with nothing more than the announcement of “I know what to do, I seen this on TV’’, Scott hurriedly jammed the key into the door, finally succeeding and allowing everyone to spill in.

The friends said their good-nights - some mumbled, some groaned - and they went their separate ways. Scott led Allison to his room, the girl blowing Lydia a kiss goodnight with lips that still shone purple. Isaac, drunk, but ever the gentleman, presented his bed to Kira with a flourish; and he good naturedly stooped down so the girl could thank him with a kiss to his cheek. He then headed to the kitchen, smiling at the fridge as if it were a long lost friend.

Then, like before, they were alone. Lydia didn't hesitate when Stiles took her hand and led her to his room, the welcoming and familiar scent of everything Stiles washing over her as they stepped into the dark. And when the bedside lamp was clicked on, illuminating the room and them in a soft glow, Lydia forgot about the last time she was there, she forgot about Malia who had disappeared at the party. ‘Cause Stiles was looking at her with eyes sweeter than honey, his shirt already half unbuttoned. His lips were still a little swollen from her kisses and Lydia’s stomach dropped and twisted at the realisation. She bit her lip when he walked over to her, his shoes only just making noise on the floor, her shallow breaths the only sound in the room.

His fingers found the hem of her dress and his questioning eyes found her and she swallowed heavily, nodding - Lydia could hardly speak, but she refused to take her eyes off of his heavy stare. Rough palms brushed across her thighs and bubbles pressed against her ribcage. Her heart was pounding, a thundering beat that championed over any bass line she had danced to earlier.
The tight fitting fabric practically peeled away from her body as Stiles dragged it up her hips and over her head. When he let it fall to the floor, Lydia didn't protest, her eyes too busy watching how the boy’s lips parted at the sight of her.

The boy almost fell to his knees, not because he hadn't seen her like this before, he had - and with less on too. But it was because this time, there was no heavy alcohol fuelling their actions, urging their lips to move quickly and with greed. They were silent, observant, nervous and so f*cking aware of their eyes on each other. When the girl fidgeted on the tips of her toes, her hands curling around the edges of her inky black underwear, Stiles cleared his throat, turning away until his trembling hands found the handle of his drawers.

Confused, but with a smile on her face, Lydia allowed Stiles to gently tug one of his T shirts over her head, the scent of the familiar cologne hugging her and clinging to her hair. The soft cotton fell to her knees and she instantly felt warm and heavy with sleep. So when Stiles opened his arms, she tumbled into them, wishing she could crawl up his body and smiling when she silently asked herself, ‘why couldn't she?’

But the boy had other plans, because when Stiles had finished dropping kisses onto her forehead, her eyelashes, her cheeks, her nose, he smoothed back her unruly curls and nudged her gently into his bed. Pulling the covers around her, he smothered a smile, adoring the way she pouted drunkenly at the loss of contact with him. He turned facing away from Lydia as he pulled his shirt over his head, his back twisting and stretching, making cords of muscles ripple under his tanned skin. His jeans pooled to the floor next, his belt buckle scraping against the ground as he kicked the offending fabric into a dark corner.
When he turned back, grey sweats sat low on his hips and his hair was falling in front of his eyes. He looked like a softer version of the boy Lydia knew, despite the muscles that defined his stomach. Stiles’ eyes were honey, his smirk now a smile and his body radiating heat as he knelt down beside the girl.

Lydia squirmed impatiently under the sheets, excited and near enough breathless as the boy took small, careful moves towards her. His fingers found her legs under the covers, dancing over her skin before they curled around her thighs. Stiles tried not to grin as he shifted little frame across the mattress, her legs falling open for him as he settled between her hips.
Neither of them seemed to breathe in that moment, and despite the duvet that still separated them, Lydia’s skin burned and Stiles’ body was tensed. He braced his arms on either side of her head, his hands absent-mindedly delving into her curls. The boy smoothed stray locks from her forehead, his eyes taking in her expression of surprise. She studied him too; his slight stubble, the dimple in his right cheek, the little mole on his left. They became stuck in a moment they both knew all too well, that white hot burn of ‘’will we, won’t we’’ hanging over them, clinging to them both.

Stiles brushed his lips over Lydia’s, once, twice, groaning into her mouth when she arched against him. He pulled away, his eyes dark and heavy, from her, her lips, the alcohol and the need to sleep.

“We have a lot of talking to do, Kitten’’, he mumbled to her, his face pressed into her neck, the cold pillow against his cheek.

Lydia nodded, knowing he could feel her agreement. But when the boy stayed silent, she did too, refusing to push and instead curling herself around him. Her cheek fell onto his messy head, her legs by his hips as her fingers traced patterns and mapped out invisible roads on his back. He stretched on top of her, his weight becoming slightly heavier as he pressed her into the bed. He was solid, warm, real and Lydia’s breath stuttered.

He must have heard it - felt it even - because he laughed onto her skin, lips grazing her neck. He turned to her, his chin lifting and his mouth centimetres from her own. There was no prelude to this kiss, no shot of vodka to tip into her lips, no apology to hear, no temper to rise or argument to battle. And that’s what made her heart stop, as her eyes settled onto his lips and took in the edges of them. They parted and she exhaled, his cupids bow twitching as he fought off a smile. Her eyes searched his face until they met his own, warm and hiding laughter. Stiles took his time as he moved the few inches into her, his hips pressing down and his nose nudging her own. He was slow, deliberate, unabashed, just like he always was and he dragged his lips across Lydia’s like he had all the time in the world.
‘Cause really, lying there in his bed, tangled together, they both suddenly felt like they had.

Minutes and hours passed, and what felt like a year later, Stiles tore himself away from the girl. He would have smirked at her pout and heaving chest if he hadn't felt the same. She was tousled, blushing, from her hair to her toes and Stiles swore at the sight of her. He crawled out of bed, his hair a mess and his swollen lips parted as he sucked in deep breaths.
He pointed accusingly at Lydia, who was watching him from a tangle of sheets. Words escaped him completely and there was no sharp wit or sarcasm left in him. He was unravelling because of this girl, wildly, shockingly and rapidly.

“Where are you going?’’

Stiles stopped his hand on the door and a little smile tugged at his lips. He looked down at her, a wash of gold hair and rosy cheeks on his white sheets. He almost tripped over his own feet in his haste to get back to her, leaning down to place another messy kiss on her lips, grazing one onto her corner of her eye, her jaw.

His voice was heavy and rough as he mumbled into her ear between kisses and smiles, “to the couch.”

Lydia frowned, her eyes still clouded from the heavy, solid weight of his body that pressed into her own. She licked her lips, tasting him and the remnants of vodka. The bed suddenly felt cold without him but when Stiles spoke reason to her, she listened.

“Kitten, I’m trying to do this right, okay?’’ He murmured gently to her, the other occupants of the apartment now asleep, “I wasn’t going to mess around with you in a drunk frat house, and I’m not going to do it with all of our friends snoring a few feet away either.’’

He leaned into her, his knees causing the mattress to dip. One finger played with her bottom lip and he inhaled sharply as he gave it a little pull, watching them part for him. He trailed it down her neck, across the collarbones that were peeking out from underneath his shirt. Her own curious fingers hooked into the top of his sweatpants, drawing him nearer, closer to her and the lengths of her parted legs that were bare and warm from his body earlier.

His hand caught hers and he smirked, pain etched into his lips, “you’re making it incredibly difficult for me to be a good guy here, Kitten.’’

“Some could even say it’s becoming exponentially harder’’, Lydia quipped, her eyes too bright and aware for three am.

Stiles chuckled darkly, feeling her fingers wiggle free from his hold as they danced across the sensitive skin just below his navel. Lydia traced the outline of his abdominal muscles, biting her lip at the way they clenched and tightened under touch. She had only just managed to capture the boy’s bottom lip between the two of hers before Stiles sighed shakily and pulled away.

“I’m now more certain than ever that you’re trying to kill me woman’’, Stiles told her.

“You weren’t sure before?’’ Lydia asked, laughter shining in her smile. She was f*cking glowing beneath him, little hands skimming over any inch of his bare chest that she could reach.

“Well’’, Stiles pondered thoughtfully, fighting off his own grin, “when you accosted me all those months ago in the bathroom, in those little shorts, I thought there was a possibility that you hoarded homicidal tendencies.’’

“I didn’t accost you!’’ the girl squealed indignantly, finally making Stiles release the laugh he had been holding.

“I know’’, he admitted, placing one last kiss on her lips, “but I’m glad you happened to be there that night.’’

Stiles watched Lydia’s eyes soften, the playful grin slip from her lips as she took in his words. They were the closest he had came to admitting his feelings for her, the furthest from the usual teasing they partook in. So, with her still lying quietly, he smiled, reaching for the door handle.

“Night, Kitten.’’

It was that memory that led to Lydia tumbling out of the same empty bed that Stiles had left her in. She found her footing on the cool floor, the cotton of Stiles’ shirt falling almost to her knees. She ran a hand through her tangled hair, tiptoeing over her forgotten heels that lay by the bed. Her dress was in a pool beside them and her cheeks burned at the reminder.
Her head, unclouded and free from the effects of last night's alcohol, told her to find the boy whose aftershave clung to her skin. So, she twisted the door handle, wincing at how it squeaked throughout the quiet rooms. The air didn’t move as she stepped out into the hallway, dust motes floating in the strips of light that the blinds let in. Soft snores came from all directions and Lydia took delicate steps towards the living room, the tips of her toes dancing across the floor boards.

The empty kitchen held the evidence of Isaac’s late night cooking, empty packets of pasta scattered across the counter tops. The lights were all off, the hum from the fridge making the air vibrate. Muffled breaths came from the living room, the shape of two bodies spread out on both couches. Too long legs spilled over the armrests, fluffy hair poking out from underneath heavy arms and mismatched pillows. Lydia smiled, skirting around the sofa that Isaac lay upon until she was looking down at a dark, messy head.

Quietly, she dropped to her knees and curled both hands around the edge of the seat, her chin balancing on top as she smiled at the sight. Stiles was still asleep, his lips slightly parted and early morning sunlight draped across his skin in stripes. His breath hitched and eyelashes fluttered, opening just a crack to see Lydia before him. He smiled, sleep clinging to his body, still warm from bed, as he turned to her, pillow creases etched into his cheek and neck. His muscles moved and rippled as he shuffled towards her and he closed his eyes once more when Lydia’s eager hands sought out the soft curls at the nape of his neck.

“Y’okay?’’ the boy mumbled into his pillow, his amber eyes watching her carefully.

Lydia knew his question held more weight to it that it seemed and she thought back to the words they exchanged last night; both ones that were yelled and the others that were admitted between crushed lips. The girl nodded, a shy smile on her face that Stiles was accustomed too. He grinned in return, watching with his hazy vision as Lydia leaned towards him, his shirt that she wore brushing his bare chest.

Their eyes were bleary with sleep but set on each other with a fire neither could explain. Stiles’ stare held everything he had said the night before, all the kisses he had pressed to her lips, into her skin. There was no hesitation as Lydia leaned into him, feeling his bed warm body pressed against her own. He was soft and hard all at once, his mussed hair feeling like silk between her eager fingers. She clung to him, little hands curling into the nape of his neck and Stiles hummed into her lips as she pushed them to his own.

The boy lifted his neck slightly from his pillow, his body twisting almost uncomfortably as he tried to feel more of Lydia, his lips pressing greedily to her own. He came awake underneath her, his blood racing in the veins under his skin as the girl melted into him, her own little body draped across his chest. One of his hands threaded into her messy curls whilst the other played with the hem of his shirt that danced around her thighs. Lydia pushed herself into Stiles further, her chest meeting his, their noses bumping clumsily, as she made that same goddamn shirt ride up her frame; grazing against the curve of her ass.
Curious fingertips touched lace and Stiles let out a gentle curse, the expletive sounding far too weak on his lips as the girl kissed it away, her soft skin becoming a hazard to the boy. Their lips met again and again, sweet and soft and gentle and for the first time, sure.

Stiles hummed happily into her and Lydia's heart dropped at the roughness that rumbled in his chest. Behind them, Isaac fussed in his sleep, rolling over until he became comfortable again. They stilled, Stiles’ hand curled around Lydia’s thigh as he fought the temptation to pull her on top of him, to see her straddled across his hips in nothing but his clothes. But Lydia bit her lip, her curls falling into her face and hiding her almost shy smile as she pulled away.
Stiles sat up with her, hating the distance she was putting between them, but when Isaac grunted again, he glared at the interruption, the reminder that they weren’t alone.
The blanket he had fought the other boy for a few hours earlier dropped from his hips and pooled at his feet, and he grinned when he caught Lydia’s gaze falling to his crotch. It was morning and he was young, healthy - as well as in the presence of a scantily clad girl that he was falling for more and more - it was expected. So he shrugged in response to her stare, grinning wider when she blushed at being caught.

The apartment was silent once more and Stiles could hear the soft breaths that left Lydia’s lips, her eyes wide and glancing between a sleeping Isaac and himself. She was thinking, he could tell that much by her parted lips and furrowed brow. She was still kneeling on the floor, her bare legs resting against the cold floorboards. Hi shirt seemed to be climbing higher up her thighs, the material grazing the tops of her legs and making Stiles’ chest fall heavier with each breath.
With graceful movements, Lydia rose to her feet, offering the boy her hand as she went. Stiles took it without question, without hesitation; ‘cause by this point, he would walk to the ends of the earth with this girl and jump off the edge if she whispered the command in his ear.

Somehow, the boy knew she was leading his back to his room, back to where his bed sat. So he followed her, her fingers curling around his own as he followed her silently, willingly. He had never experienced this before, had never had a girl take command like this, so quiet and unassuming yet so blatantly confident in her actions. He was a putty in her hands, his lips parted with an anticipation he had never known to be so strong.

Their bare feet padded softly on the floor, their breaths caught in their chests, burning in their throats. Stiles’ eyes were set on the sway of the girls hips in front of him, the way she walked quietly on the tips of her toes and yet was still so much smaller than him. He wanted to grin, to yell, to catch her and crush her to him. So he did.

Lydia’s surprised gasp turned into laughter, a sound that made Stiles’ heart a little quicker as he pulled her back to him. He pressed her against the wall before his bedroom door with heat racing across his body and an ache he burned with. He was impatient, too eager to touch her, taste her.
He grinned when Lydia responded with the same enthusiasm, her hands fisting into his hair, her lips crushed to his own. The boys arms wrapped around her little waist and he lifted her frame from the floor with ease, bringing her closer to his mouth so he could kiss her with the deep, confident strokes of his lips.

Lydia moaned into him, forgetting about the closed doors around her that hid their sleeping friends. Her own arms fell across Stiles’ broad shoulders, his bare skin warm as her hands skated across them. She clung to his neck, not even the slightest bit surprised when rough hands found the undersides of her thighs and lifted her up. Pressed between a wall and Stiles was becoming a frequent situation for Lydia, and one she wasn’t entirely opposed to. It gave a new meaning to the phrase, ‘stuck between a rock and a hard place’.
The girl would have chuckled at the innuendo except deft fingers trailed along the inside of her legs and hips pushed into her own. Stiles was arching into her, letting out a low sigh as if this was something he had been waiting to do for a long time.
Her nails scraped against his back and he let out a low hiss that’s laced with pleasure into her lips. She smirked and he grinned, shaking his head so their noses bumped and his mouth ended up sucking on her neck. Stiles’ was rough and Lydia encouraged him with thrusts of her hips, tightening her legs around his waist. So he splayed his hands across her bare stomach as he rucked up her shirt, the one that now smelled of peonies and cherries and everything Lydia. Their kisses turn deeper, more desperate, greedy, cause this might just beit, this might just be their chance.

When Lydia speaks, it’s mumbled and all lips and seeking tongues andf*cking hellshe moaned for him. The clamoured together, past the point of clarity and being rational, mature adults. Lydia almost sobbed at the heat between her thighs and the ache that comes when Stiles grinds into her, only thin cotton and sparse lace between them. All she can hear is their heavy breaths, the sound of her lips leaving his own only to press back against them with a moan bitten between.

Then, muffled voices swan from underneath one of the closed doors. Familiar voices that yawned and spoke quietly, their words still filled with sleep. As they drew closer, Lydia stilled underneath Stiles’ touch and he tore his lips from her own, his heavy breath mixing with her own. They heard Scott, then Allison speak once more before footsteps padded over creaking floorboards.
Lydia slid from the boy's body, his hands skimming over her hips and waist as her feet found the floor. Lydia looked up at Stiles’, watching how his eyes stared at her lips. She pulled and tugged at the hem of her top, suddenly wishing it was longer. Stiles licked his lips, a sure sign that he was nervous, about to say something.

Lydia waited, the silence broken by their panting chests and the sound of their friends coming alive in the room only a few feet away. Stiles’ eyes flicked from her to the doorway, his hands fidgeting and tightening around her waist. Rough palms trailed across her forearms, brushing down until they curled around her own. He tugged her on her fingers gently, asking silently for her attention.
Lydia tore her eyes away from Isaac who had awoken and was now standing in the livingroom. He gave her a small smile that she seen over Stiles’ shoulder before wandering to the kitchen.

“Lydia?’’

“Huh?’’ was the girl’s eloquent response.

Her lips were still swollen, tingling from the feel of Stiles’. She never got over it, the way he consumed her, sent her flying. She gripped onto his hands more tightly, her body swaying as she bumped into his chest. The air was buzzing, vibrating with an electricity that only came with Stiles’ presence.

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?’’ Stiles asked her quietly, his nervous eyes still darting back to his friends bedroom door.

“What?’’ Lydia replied, her eyebrows raised. She was not expecting such a question, at all and especially now. “Uh, I’m not sure, why?’’

Scott’s door clicked open and it hung slightly ajar, shadows from bodies moving were cast across the hallway floor and Stiles swallowed heavily. The rest of his words became stuck in his throat and nerves skittered across his body, making him lick his bottom lip. Lydia was looking up at him expectantly and he swore to himself. He didn’t want to do it this way, not like this, not here. He was going to ask her properly and hopefully without an audience. Scott’s voice became clearer and the boy laughed at something Allison said. The door creaked open a little more.

“Come home with me, come to New York’’, Stiles blurted, his invitation murmured softly and in a rush.

“I want you to meet my dad, see the sights’’, Stiles took a deep breath, his chest burning, “And I really don’t want to be without you for five days.’’

Lydia took in a soft breath at Stiles’ admission, her eyes searching over his face for any signs of regret, embarrassment. She blushed when she would none and as her best friend and Scott stumbled out of the bedroom with sleepy smiles, she looked back to Stiles and nodded.

She wasn’t prepared for the blinding grin that lit up his face, like the sun rose behind his amber eyes. He was gold and he warmed her skin when he squeezed her hand, made her lips burn at the soft, gentle kiss he placed there.

Now she had to tell her mother she wouldn't be home for the holidays.

Chapter 24: Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Text

“You took my soul and wiped it clean,
our love was made for movie screens.’’

Telling her mother that she wasn’t coming home for Thanksgiving was a lot easier than Lydia had originally anticipated. She was hastily locking the door of her dorm room, her bag slipping haphazardly down her arm as she balanced her cell between her ear and her shoulder.

“Another cruise?’’ Lydia asked, not even remotely surprised, “God, mom, just buy yourself your own boat, you’d probably save money.’’

“Well honey, Paolo only suggested it last minute and who am I to say no to Thanksgiving in the Maldives?’’

“Paolo? Mom, who’s Paolo?’’ Lydia scrunched her nose, jamming her keys back into her bag as she maneuvered down the stairwell. It was the Sunday before Thanksgiving and students were preoccupied with moving back home for the holidays. Impatient suitcases bumped at Lydia’s ankles and plane tickets were stuffed into purses and wallets as she descended to the front door. When she stepped outside, winter bit at her skin and she wrapped her knitted scarf around her neck, her nose buried in the warm fabric as she continued a now muffled conversation with her mother.

“Oh! Our gardener, you know him! Very nice young man.’’

“We have a gardener? Wait, how young is this ‘nice young man?’’’ Lydia queried, her boots clicking across the courtyard as she made her way off campus.

“Anyway’’, the older woman continued, “speaking of nice young men, who is it you’re staying with?’’

“A friend, mom’’, Lydia told her distractedly, her steps quick as she skipped across the busy road, wincing as a van beeped impatiently at her, “He lives in New York and he asked me if I, you know, wanted to see the sights.’’

“Allison will be there too’’, she added, hoping that that piece of information would lessen the curiosity in her mother’s voice, “there’s a bunch of us going.’’

“I see - Susie, be a dear and order me another Prosecco, I’m just going to the cloakroom -’’, Lydia rolled her eyes as the familiar words of her mother’s country club entrance interrupted their conversation.

Lydia jumped over a puddle on the sidewalk, smiling shyly at a guy who grinned appreciatively at her as she passed.

“Mom? Mom…Mom”, Lydia huffed, eyeing the greying skies with wariness, she wasn’t far from her destination, but the clouds decided to open, she wasn’t hanging around in the rain to continue her phone conversation.

“Yes dear? Oh! Sorry honey, I’m just having brunch with Mrs Whittemore, she misses you so, she was just telling me how good Jackson is doing”, Mrs Martin rambled cheerily, her voice lifting at the gossip she was about to give, “did you know, he’s been scouted for a lacrosse team in LA?”

“No, mom, I didn’t”, Lydia rolled her eyes and repressed the teenage urge to add on ‘and I don’t care either’. But she held her tongue and continued her quick walk down the street, grimacing at the way the wind picked up and played with her curls, turning her cheeks pink with the cold.

“Oh, yes, he’s doing so well for himself, such a fine young man - I bet he misses you honey, why don’t you consider spending Thanksgiving back home with Jackson? Oh! That would be so nice!”, her mother gushed and Lydia could only imagine her hands flapping excitedly, “it would give you both a chance to talk, don’t you think?”

“Mom, I really don’t think Jackson and I have much more to say to each other’’, the girl admitted softly, she could almost feel her mother’s annoyance through the phone. Bottles clinked and woman laughed falsely in the background, making the cold air in Lydia’s throat taste bitter. She was used to such noises, used to the afternoons spent beside her mom in stuffy country clubs, picking daintily at the cucumber sandwich that had been ordered for her.

Without really listening to her parent’s snippy response, Lydia rounded the last corner and felt her lips tug upwards into a smile.

Stiles and the rest of her friends could be seen from across the ice covered street, their faces warm from the fairy lights that were strung around the window of Deaton’s bar. Smiles tugged at their lips and laughter she couldn’t quite hear yet rippled through the air. Stiles was talking animatedly to Isaac and Kira, Allison perched on Scott’s knee beside him, one hand running affectionately through his dark waves as they listened to their friends.

He grinned and it was golden.

Stiles warmed the air around her, made her mother’s insistent voice dull to a mere murmur in her ear. The cell slipped slightly in her hand and Lydia caught it in time to agree half heartedly to whatever her mother was saying, her heart beating a little faster than it had before.
The boy was watching her through the window, his navy beanie covering his messy mop of hair. As fall had settled over them, Lydia had found she liked Stiles bundled in big hoodies and bobble hats just as much as she liked him shirtless.
He smirked as if he knew her thoughts and Lydia turned more pink in response, which of course made the boy grin harder. He pointed at a drink on the table beside him, one he had obviously ordered for her. Behind the glass, Isaac said something, making Scott splutter into his beer and Stiles take a whack at his shoulder. Kira smiled and waved exuberantly as Lydia began to cross the road, more spring in her step than before.

“Mom, I gotta go, I’ll talk to you later?’’

Lydia had ended the call just as her mother told her to enjoy the holidays and behave. Her heart thumped with every step she took towards the bar, the squeak of the old oak door making something in her stomach quiver with excitement. Everything was a little different now, everything held promise and the glimmer of something new.

Soon, the day fell darker, the sun turning to lava as it melted behind clouds made of hidden rain and Lydia found her body becoming tucked into Stiles’ side. The food they had ordered was shared out amongst the table, their laughter becoming louder as the bar filled up with students without classes and homework. Stiles’ arm was curled around Lydia’s waist, his fingertips tracing heat across the skin he hand found buried under her knitted jumper.

“You’re taking her home with you for Thanksgiving?’’ Malia rose her brows with distaste, an accusing finger pointed at Lydia, “her?’’ she repeated.

The entire table drowned in the silence, the fairy lights above them still twinkling cheerfully, apparently, unaware of the sh*t that was indeed, about to go down. Allison busied herself with looking out of the window at passers-by as her boyfriend picked idly at a loose thread on her cardigan. Scott kept his eyes low, the complete opposite of his other roommate. Isaac was glancing upwards with a slight smile on his lips, looking from Stiles and Malia with eager eyes as he ignored Kira’s weak attempts at luring Malia to the bathroom.

“Malia, let’s just go talk… maybe you shouldn’t do this here?’’ Her protests fell on deaf ears and eventually Isaac shushed her by patting her leg impatiently, his arm slung casually over the back of her chair as he told her, “just watch - Captain f*ckboy is up to bat.’’

Stiles was yet to say anything, instead staring at the angry girl with his jaw slack and nerves hidden in his amber eyes. Before he could stutter out a response, Malia rounded on him once more, much to the amusem*nt of Isaac.

“You finally, finally, take me out on a date after months of spending nights in my bed…’’

“Uh, Malia, I didn’t technically ask you-’’ Stiles stuttered in a way that was so unlike him, causing Lydia to raise her brows and Scott to squeeze his eyes shut.

Malia ignored him, Isaac laughed at him.

“-In my shower, your stupid jeep, my couch, that closet at that party…’’

Lydia cleared her throat as she placed her now empty glass of wine back on the table, much more harshly than needed. At the sound of glass on wood, Stiles chanced a look at the strawberry blonde and he winced when Lydia chose to set her sight on Kira instead.

“Malia…’’ Stiles cringed.

“And then you disappear at Greenberg’s party, you don’t talk to me for almost two weeks and then suddenly you’re taking some random freshman home with you for the holidays?’’

Allison slipped off of Scott’s knee as she tugged at her skirt, gesturing to the bar with awkward hands, “uh Lyds? You wanna get another drink?’’

Grabbing Isaac’s unfinished beer from his unexpecting hand, Lydia shook her head, raising the bottle and taking a long drag. With a small gasp and heavy breath, she tore the it from her lips, handing the empty glass back to a shocked and impressed Isaac. With a smile that was anything but happy, Lydia told her friend, “nope, I’m good right here.’’

The boy opened his mouth to respond but yet again found himself speechless. For once, Lydia didn’t focus on the way he nervously licked at his lips, how his mouth fell into a pout as he thought of what to say.

“I said that?’’ Stiles eventual reply came from unsure lips, with a tongue that tasted of little white lies.

“He said that?’’ Isaac reinforced, with a hidden smile his voice and the beginnings of laughter building in his chest.

“I’m positive you were supposed to say that’’, Scott confirmed, still looking at the floor.

The air hummed around the group, filled with tension and an awkwardness that wasn’t there before. All eyes were on Stiles, waiting for his response, his excuse, his way of ending the situation. Instead, he let out a breath and drummed deft fingers on the edge of the table, looking between Malia and Lydia with nothing but wariness on his features.

The redhead simply rose her eyebrows in response, the same humourless smile on her lips that told the boy that she was not finding this amusing in the slightest. Kira was standing beside Malia now, her eyes etched with worry for both of her friends. Allison was glaring at Stiles in warning, her gaze darting pointedly to Lydia. Stiles was frozen, his throat becoming tighter and it was suddenly difficult to swallow.

“What’s our thing, Stiles?’’ Lydia’s voice was even and eerily calm, making Stiles back away slightly. He knew the danger that came with a level headed Lydia. In all honesty, he preferred her yelling and cursing him out, he could handle that.

“Aww, dude, what’s our thi-’’

“Shut UP, Isaac!’’ Stiles’ foot met the English boy’s shin, making him swear aloud and the table shake.

“Lydia!’’ Stiles, Allison and Kira called out at once.

The scowl on Lydia’s face was answer enough to Stiles’ soft demand and the boy swore in return. The Jeep was crawling along the road, the window down as the boy braced the cold as he hung out of it, watching Lydia with sad eyes and regret leaving his chest burning.

“C’mon, Kitten, please - it’s freezing’’, he pleaded, ignoring the car that blared its horn behind him.

“Don’t call me that’’, the girl growled in response, the autumn wind making her cheeks pink and her appearance less ferocious than she wanted it to be. She crossed her arms tighter around her chest.

“Oh’’, Stiles chuckled humorlessly, “we’re back to that, are we?’’

Lydia shot him a look that would have killed a normal man, but Stiles was Stiles - and Stiles was used to such looks. He simply smirked in response at her fire, his arm hanging casually out of the window and that damn beanie hiding his messy mop of hair.

“Fine,Lydia, please, get in the car, it’s f*cking cold.’’

“No.’’

“For f*ck’s sake woman’’, Stiles huffed, slamming on the brakes. Another car sounded its horn in protest and the boy waved it past him with agitated hands.

The girl turned to him, spinning on the heel of her boots until she was only inches from the car, from Stiles and his wide, worried eyes.

“Do not, ‘f*ck’s sake me’,asshole!’’ Lydia exploded, her hands curled around the window frame.

The boy leaned backwards, away from the anger that rolled off the girl in waves. Her cheeks were too pink, her freckles from summer faded under her porcelain skin. Her lips were full and pouty and open as she prepared herself to spout more pissed off words at him and the boy was totallyf*cked, because suddenly, Lydia was a tsunami of water that burned.

“You told me that you spoke to Malia! You told me that you had explained everything and I believed you, once again, like a f*cking idiot!’’ Lydia ranted, her arms flailing as she battered little fists onto the window frame of the jeep.

“You just make me think things that I’m sure that will never happen, Stiles’’, Lydia told him, her expression turning softer, sadder, hopeless, “I get my hopes up and then… then nothing.’’

She turned abruptly, the hazard lights from the Jeep turning her face and body shades of amber and red as she walked away from Stiles. The boy cursed again as he fumbled with the handbrake, ignoring the protests from other drivers as he moved back onto the road, his eyes set on the girl who was making it her life mission to get far, far away from him.

He slowed as the lights in front of him turned red, bathing the inside of the jeep crimson. His breath came out in bursts of frost, making the air in front of him turn to smoke and he cursed as Lydia disappeared from view.

“Motherfu-’’ Stiles slammed a fist into the steering wheel, flipping off the guy who tried to overtake him in a shiny BMW.

He craned his neck, trying to see around the busy traffic and the darkened shadows that led into the park surrounding campus but there were no glimpses of strawberry blonde hair, no angry little hurricanes kicking up fallen leaves. As the light turned to green, Stiles kicked the engine to life, hammering his foot to the floor and turning into the campus grounds just as the sky cracked open and the streetlights turned into rainwashed mosaics on his windshield.

“Stiles, I don’t want to do this.’’

Stiles turned with a scowl to find a boy facing him with a expression of annoyance. He was built solidly, his light hair cropped close to his head. Small, dark eyes showed a glint of a threat as his hand continued to force pressure on Stiles’ shoulder. Shrugging it off, he stood a little taller, turning to Lydia who looked slightly disgruntled at the interruption.

“Uh, no Aiden, it’s fine, thank you’’, she told the boy with a polite smile, “Stiles is a friend’’, she added as an afterthought.

“You sure?’’ the boy grunted, eyeing Stiles up and down as if she had just found his next meal.

Stiles rolled his eyes and began to talk, irritation dripping from his words, “Dude, are you deaf? She said she’s fi-’’.

But before he could finish his sentence, Lydia cut him off with a slap to his side and he grunted in return. Smiling that ever polite smile at the other boy, she told him once again, thank you.

“No problem’’, Aiden told her, suddenly full of smiles and light, “If you need anything, I’m right down the hall like always.’’

As he walked away, Stiles scoffed, staring at his retreating back with a million questions flying through his mind. Seemingly aware of what he was thinking, Lydia rolled her eyes and let out a little noise of protest, letting the door fall open as she turned on her heel and march into her room, leaving wet footprints in her wake.

“Right down the hall, huh?’’ Stiles mocked, stepping through the open door that he assumed was an invitation inside, “Does he tell you that a lot?’’

The boy gaped at her brave words, his jaw hanging slack as he stood on the spot, “excu - excuse me?’’

“Are you forgetting the club? The night in my bed? When I kissed you in my room, at the party?’’ Stiles listed, eyebrows raised and his voice slick with smugness, “I’d call that making a move, Kitten.’’

“I’m sick of random hook up’s Stiles!’’ Lydia let out in a rushed breath, her hands were by her head, her cold fingers press into her temples as if it hurt to talk, “I don’t want to be the new girl you go to when you’re drunk, I don’t want the only reason you kiss me to be an attempt to stop me arguing with you!’’

“Lydia, I’ve told you!’’ Stiles argued, “It’s not like that with us, it’s different with you!’’

“Yeah, Stiles, exactly!’’ Lydia threw back, her voice getting louder, her eyes turning glassier and her hair dripping water over the floor, “You’ve told me! You’ve told me it’s different but no explained why, or how, or f*cking shown me!’’

Her hands were tangled in her hair, twisting her wet curls in annoyance as she looked at the boy with eyes filled with despair and the inevitable dullness of someone giving up.

“You don’t explain to me, you don’t tell me what you want! And when I finally think we’re getting somewhere, you decide to just not tell Malia that you don’t want to randomly f*ck her every now and again. How convenient for you!’’

Stiles let out a noise that sounded a lot like a growl and it rumbled through his chest with annoyance following it. He stared at the girl, not used to the hate she was spitting, the real anger that flooded her pretty, green eyes.

“So what is it, huh? Did you just wanna wait until you gotboredof me? Make sure you had Malia waiting for you? Is that it?’’ Lydia stepped closer, her voice shaking slightly and her hands trembling, two sure signs that her body was betraying the bravery in her voice.

She pressed her hand to her damp sweater, the material cold against her hands. The fire she spat died on her lips and left the taste of bitterness in her mouth as looked at the boys face.

“I make you feel cheap?’’

Stiles’ voice was softer than before, a harsh contrast to Lydia’s shrill yells. His face had fallen, his smirk slipping off. He looked at her with a sudden hurt in his eyes, his brow furrowed, and when he spoke again, his voice cracked a little, “did I?’’

Instant regret flooded Lydia’s body, making her feel too warm and uncomfortable. It rose over her neck and made the damp clothes she wore itch and scratch against her skin.

“No’’, she admitted softly, “I just - I guess I thought I could do the whole casual thing with you.’’

She toed the carpet with her boot, watching the material turn darker in the spots she dripped rain water on to. A blush crept over her cheeks and she could feel her eyes turning glassy, a sure sign of the embarrassment she felt at her admission.

“I tried’’, she continued with a dry chuckle, “turns out I can’t, who would have thought?’’

“Welcome back, Kitten.’’

Heat flooded her, and Lydia wasn’t entirely sure if it was anger or something else. Deciding the first emotion would be the best to act on, she turned on her heel to face the boy, her chin tipped upwards defiantly as she raised one arched brow and asked:

“Got another naked date waiting on you?’’

Stiles huffed, a trace of laughter lining his voice when he told her, “you just don’t know when to quit, do you?’’

Lydia opened her lips to cut him with another sharp retort, but the boy raised his eyebrows and she decided not to, wrapping her arms around her body instead. The air inside the bathroom was warmer than her own dorm but she was still cold. The empty room held nothing but leftover steam from someones shower and the slow, steady drip of an old pipe. Her gaze had settled on the tiled floor, but when Lydia looked back up, Stiles was in front of her.

“What’re you doing?’’ She asked harshly, her voice still laced with a little anger.

Stiles curled his fingers around her sodden jumper, lifting the knitted material from where it hung around her knees.

“Getting you warm’’, he muttered, “you’ve been shaking ever since you got inside. Now, lift your arms.’’

“No.’’

“Kitten, for once in your f*cking life, can you do as you’re told?’’ the boy huffed, exasperated.

“No.’’

“Alrighty then’’, and with that, Stiles yanked the jumper over her head, watching with a little amusem*nt as auburn curls spilled everywhere and a tiny noise of surprise left her lips.

Flustered, Lydia reappeared, now in a blouse that was equally as damp as the previous layer and she glared at Stiles as he dropped her sweater to the floor. It landed with a squelch and soft thud on the tiles, and Lydia narrowed her eyes at Stiles’ satisfied grin.

“You’re an asshole’’, she told him.

“I know, you’ve mentioned that before’’, he replied smoothly and calmly. “Get in the shower Kitten.’’

Lydia stopped pulling at her damp shirt, two fingers delicately holding it out and away from her body. She peered up at the boy with disbelief in her face, “you’re f*cking kidding me, right?’’

“As serious as a heart attack, sweetheart’’, he told her, already dropping to his knees in order to pull her boots from her feet. He stood, the two shoes in his hands as he pointed to one of the numerous empty cubicles, “get your cute little butt in there.’’

He grinned as she scowled, determined - but failing - as she tried to stand her ground as the boy edged her much smaller frame towards the showers.

“I’m not showering with you standing outside!’’

“I’d be happy to join you, Kitten, you just need to ask’’, Stiles bit back, his hands on her hips as he steered her towards the other wall.

Lydia dug her heels in at his response and her face crumbled into anger and disappointment once again, “see!’’ she yelled at him.

“This is what I’m talking about!’’ the girl fumed, pulling away from him and yanking her shirt off until she revealed soft, pale skin and jade green lace, “it’s all words and flirting and sex with you!’’

She fumbled clumsily with the button of her jeans, watching with a little hidden glee at her friend’s expression. Shrugging out of the wet, skin tight material proved to be a challenge but when Lydia managed to get out of the denim, she had the pleasure of kicking them to Stiles feet. Standing in underwear that was adorned with little hawaiian flowers and electric colours, she pushed a hand into a shocked Stiles’ chest.

“I’m not going to lie and say I don’t want you Stiles, cause I do’’, she took her time to look the boy up and down, her lip tucked between her teeth as she did so, “I do’’, she confirmed.

“But I need something Stiles, something else to let me know that it’s not just me, I’m not falling on my own here’’, Lydia’s voice turned a little desperate, a little hard with built up frustration, “and I honestly think I should just give up, ‘cause I don’t know what else to tell you.’’

With that, she turned round, stepping into one of the stalls and pulled the curtain behind her, leaving Stiles standing with her boots in his hands, her wet jeans at his feet and his jaw on the floor.

Pipes creaked and squealed and then there was water pouring from the shower, battering against the flimsy curtain that did nothing to really hide the outline of Lydia’s body.

Boots dropped to the floor, the little gold buckles clattered against the tiles. Jeans were kicked of the way, wet shirts slipped under his sneakers and Stiles braced himself against the frame of the cubicle, his fingers curling around the damp tiles.

His forehead rested against the back of his hand he took sharp intake of breath, warm, humid air filling his lungs and making everything f*cking burn. A ghost of a smile traced his lips and it was nervous and hesitant and his thoughts were so stupid and brave.

His voice was hoarse and he felt a little breathless but he licked his lips and opened his mouth anyway.

“Kitten?” He called out, raising his voice just a little so he could be heard over the rush of water.

“Yes, Stiles?” The girl called back, sounding tired and a little hopeful.

“Tell me”, the boy swallowed, squeezing his his shut, “tell me what you want right now, what you’re thinking. Anything, Lydia, please.”

Silence came back at him, only the dull roar of the shower, the beat of the water on the tiled wall. Her shadow moved behind the curtain, her arms reaching up to comb through her hair before her chest heaved and she turned to him. The curtain remained in its place, her face hidden from him, but he heard her.

“What do you want to know Stiles?”

“What are you thinking, what - what do you want for us? From me?”

The curtain scraped back on its rail, revealing a sight that Stiles knew he would never forget. Pale, wet skin and long auburn hair that clung to every curve and expanse of skin he had the pleasure of seeing. She watched him closely with wide green eyes and pink cheeks, her tiny frame bathed in warm water and mismatched underwear. Lydia wrapped her arms around her midriff, shielding under body from the cooler air that she had allowed in, shying away from only that, and surprisingly not Stiles - never Stiles.

“I told you, Stiles”, she muttered, her voice only just heard over the shower, “I don’t wanna share you.”

Lydia was sent backwards are Stiles tumbled into the shower stall, his clothes becoming instantly soaked as they clung to his body and became pressed up against her own. He was cold and hot all at once, soft and hard and Lydia was so close to him. She was ready to give in again, to kiss him before things were resolved 'cause his lips were right there and his hands were on her waist, curling into her bare skin. She would see water drops clinging to his lashes, feel the rough denim of his wet jeans scratch against her thighs.

Her back was against the cold tiles, his warm body in front of her and two strong arms encasing her between. Lydia had been there before but experience didn’t stop her heart racing and her eyes darting over his face for any sign of what was about to happen.

But he only stared back, his own amber eyes flicking over her features. He licked his lips and Lydia’s breath stuttered.

“I’m not sharing you either.”

His forehead met her own as he spoke, low and slow and deep and rough. It vibrated through and created an electrical current under skin, a live wire that led right back to the boy in front of her.

One hesitant hand came up to cradle her cheeks, ghosting over her jaw before tucking tangles of strawberry blonde locks behind her ear.

“I don’t want any more games, Lydia”, Stiles told her, his body coming closer and lining up with her own.

She nodded in agreement, her voice lost as her hands came up to fist the wet material of his shirt in her grip. Her knuckles grazed against his ribs and he was solid and he was there and she was sure he was trying to tell her that he was hers.

“I’m gonna take you on a date, Kitten”, he whispered into her neck, his voice so soft and serious and with determination lacing everything, “in New York, me and you, I promise - I’ll make everything so much better, please let me.”

He took Lydia’s face in his hands, his fingertips tracing over the high planes of her cheekbones as he looked down at her.

“Me and you, dating, together, doing something about this ridiculous thing we have going.”

He swallowed, a smile pulling at one side of his lips in a smirk that was so familiar.

“How about it Kitten?”

Chapter 25: Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Text

“Maybe soul mates are just two ordinary people who were too stubborn to let the world pull them apart.’’

With the hot water still beating down on her and Stiles Stilinski’s wet body pressed against her, Lydia wondered if this was what melting was supposed to feel like, because right then, she was sure she was less than solid.
The air was warm with steam and the shower rose in temperature as it splashed against the tiles and his breath washed over her and it was so warm too, hot like his words and the way his hips pressed into hers. Her knees were weak and she felt his gaze on the skin that she had so brazenly bared before. Now her confidence slipped and doubt fell over her, the boy’s question hanging in the air between them, bouncing off the wet tiles.

“I’ll fix everything, I’ll tell Malia -f*ck, I’ll tell the entire campus - that it’s just you,'' Stiles licked at his lips anxiously, his words mumbled, drops of water pouring back over them and sliding down his neck, “only want you, Kitten, only have for a while now.’’

His shirt was soaked, stuck to his chest like a second skin and cords of muscle rippled underneath it as he brought his hands to either side of the girls head, bracing himself against the tiles. The sound of water battering against the floor mixed with their heavy breathing and Stiles couldn’t stop himself from dropping gaze from her lips. They were parted, full and pink and right there. She bit down on her bottom one and Stiles fought to hide his grin ‘cause it was Lydia and he could read her like his favourite f*cking book.

He dropped his voice another octave, brought one hand down so his fingers could trace over the dips and hills of her collarbones. She squirmed slightly at his touch, her eyes locked on his and her lip between her teeth. The girl's chest rose, quicker and quicker, faster and heavier until it met Stiles’ and her fingers clamped around his biceps and she pulled at his shirt until he stooped down to meet her and gave her what she wanted.

Her eyes were closed and her mouth brushed against his jaw as she stood on her toes to meet his height. Her words licked against his skin like the hot water, making him curl into Lydia, just to be that little bit closer. He held her waist, his fingers wrapped around her tightly as he held her to him, scared she would slip.

“Just me?’’ Lydia asked, her voice small under the beat of the shower.

The nod of the boy’s head was enthusiastic and his wet hair flopped about in a mess and he brought his hands from her body to her face, cupping her jaw and smoothing back the strands of dark hair that clung to her cheeks. He kissed her nose, quick and tender, pulling back to rub his own against it and murmur soft words to her.

“I promise,’’ he told her, “you have no idea how much I want it to be just you, no one else, I swear to god, Kitten.’’
Stiles ran a hand through his now soaking hair, pushing it back and off of his forehead as rivets of water trickled down his tanned skin. His eyes were bright, alert and the colour of the sun as they looked down at Lydia with nerves and excitement.

“So?’’ he asked, “what do you say?’’

Lydia’s hands fisted the hem of his shirt, her fingers playing and tugging at the wet material. It stretched easily, weighed down by water and revealing sharp collarbones that matched his cheeks, his jaw, his cupid's bow. She licked her lips nervously as he done the same, both of them grinning despite the tension in the humid air.

Just as the girl parted her lips to reply, a pipe behind the tiles squealed angrily and the water faded from hot to warm, from lukewarm to freezing. The pair yelped, scrambling together with the shower curtain, a tangle of limbs and auburn hair. Their feet met the cold floor, Lydia’s jeans and shirt beneath them. Clumsy toes kicked at forgotten boots and they both searched the bathroom for a towel, for anything.
They stared at each other for a few seconds, Lydia’s mouth parted as she silently asked the boy what they were supposed to do. Grabbing her sweater from the floor, Stiles leapt into action, laughter in his chest and a smile in his eyes as the girl allowed him to drag it over her head and down her body. It reached her thighs, the cream wool grazing her skin and making everything about her so f*cking soft.
The boy halted, just stopped in his tracks, as he bent back up from picking her clothes from the floor. His breath caught in his chest as he watched Lydia watch him and she was soaked to the bone, her hair a tangle and her sleeves too long and tucked into her palms. She was f*cking gorgeous, a beautiful mess like a sky full of stars.

With her jeans and boots tucked under his arm, Stiles took her hand in his, leading her out of the bathrooms and into the hallway. With a quick check, he made sure the halls were deserted and together they ran clumsily to her dorm, laughter flowing behind them and water dripping on the floor. There was a chill in the air from the old windows, a bite to the atmosphere surrounding them but as Lydia fiddled with her key card, she wasn’t sure if it was from the weather of the boy standing behind her.
She felt his presence everywhere and when they tumbled into her dark room, she realised she wanted him everywhere too. His touch, his lips, his taste.

She was overtaken with impatience and she didn’t bother to reach for a light switch as Stiles let her sodden clothes tumble onto the floor. There was no noise apart from their heavy breaths, the sound of water dropping from Lydia’s hair to the floor. Her breath left her with a shake and a sigh and she padded softly over to where Stiles stood, softly illuminated by the amber lights outside her window. It was still raining, heavier now and there seemed to a storm brewing, one made of purple skies and clouds filled with smoke and it took over the town and her heart.

Lydia’s hands found Stiles’ chest and she flinched slightly at the cold material. Her fingers sought out the lines of his muscles, the hem of his shirt that she slowly but confidently peeled away from his body. The boy watched her carefully, with eyes made of fire and just as warm. He didn’t stop her, he didn’t question her because his Kitten seemed to be on a mission, her bottom lip tucked sinfully between her teeth as she concentrated on her task. So he lifted his arms obediently, laughing slightly to himself when her small frame couldn't reach any higher. He stepped back with a smile, his fingers curling around the back of his shirt as he dragged it up and off of himself. He dropped it to the floor with a soft thud, finding himself to be uncaring when it came to the water leaking onto the carpet.
Lydia apparently felt similar because she toed his shirt to the side, the dark room making it turn invisible as the shadows swallowed it and the girl stepped into the pool of light that flooded from the window. She lit up, her hair curling at the ends and her eyes glowing as she took in the sight of his bare skin. Her hands came back up to play, slightly cold but so small and soft as she mapped out the freckles on his skin from topless summers until the soft line of hair underneath tempts her hands lower.
Her touch is light and innocent, but there, in the dark of the room, with clothes already on the floor and not a lot more of their bodies, Stiles is on fire. The boy sucks in a breath, his hands clenched into fists at his side as he lets the girl explore. Her expression is one of curiosity and he can see the possibilities rising into her eyes.
Lydia’s palms smooth themselves out across his broad shoulders and she stops, her eyes emeralds in the street lights and staring up at him, daring him, tempting him.

When the words fall out of her mouth, they aren’t a question, they’re a statement, a promise and hidden ‘yes’ to his offering before.

“Just me and you’’, she says and it falls from her lips as a whisper but when it hits the boy, he detonates because her words are bombs and her lips are deadly and suddenly she’s attached them to his.

She was soft all over and hesitant in his arms, and Stiles doesn’t even realise how close Lydia is until his rough palms battle their way under her jumper and he’s suddenly touching skin. But she didn’t seem to mind ‘cause Lydia pulled him closer, her toes burned as she stood on them, clutching at his neck as she pressed her lips to his own.
Despite her frantic mind and wild heartbeat, her lips are slow against his and Stiles dictates the kiss, washing his hands over her ribs in motions so soft and sweet. He hummed into her, his delight present all over his body as he swayed closer, clumsy and bumbling and impatient and greedy. He slowed her down, pressing his lips to hers, letting the little space between them flood with cool air as he took deep panting breaths. He needed slow, he wanted slow.

“Kitten,’’ he hummed into her lips, “you, y’kay?’’ His words are stuttered and his breath trips over them, ‘cause Lydia had her hands on his stomach, trailing down the ripples of muscle she found there, her fingers dipping into the slants of his hips.

Lydia nodded, her pillowy lips brushing over his own at her movements. She holds a smile on them and with her eyes closed, she looks angelic. Stiles’ wouldn’t have known she was nervous if he didn’t know her as well as he did. Her sleeves were still long on her arms, the hem tucked into her fingers as her knuckles touched every freckle and mole on his body.
But she surprised him by dropping her hands suddenly, everything in him screaming back out for her touch. The girl stepped back, her fingers curling against her sweater, gripping the hem and pulling it upwards, her arms stretched out above her head until Stiles could see her face again, the wet clothing dropped to the floor. She was flushed, her chest heaving with nerves, excitement, anticipation and it pushed at the cups of her bra - green lace stuck to her damp skin in a way that made Stiles’ legs feel weak.

‘Cause he was. He was a weak, weak man around Lydia Martin and he knew it. She left him a wreck, a ruined mess since the day she cursed him out in that damn bathroom.

But there she was, his hurricane of a girl standing in her dorm with a fire in her eyes and flowers on her mismatched underwear. She didn’t stutter under his stare, she didn’t falter one little bit. But Stiles reminded himself they’d been in this position before, with less clothes and more alcohol and fingers pressing into skin and lips sucking at lips. Despite the dark room, everything was so much f*cking clearer now.

His jeans had grown uncomfortable, wet and cold and heavy on his skin but Stiles couldn’t bring himself to take them off, not like that. He needed Lydia’s hands, her approval, the little nod against his lips that he already knew. When he crossed the floor to her in a few easy steps, the wet denim scratched at him, dragging down his hips and exposing the black band of his boxers. Stiles watched with complete curiosity at Lydia’s eyes travelled down his frame, stopping at the material stretched across his lips before meeting his eyes.
She was closer now and Stiles felt awed. He wanted nothing more than to suck and kiss bruises into her skin, have her lips on him somewhere, anywhere - he wanted, no needed, to know what she tasted like today.

It didn’t take long for his hands to find her waist, his long fingers curled around the soft skin there. He brought her to him, her body much more naked than his and suddenly the air in the dorm was so much warmer and heat stuck to his skin. Stiles’ mind was clouded and full of thoughts he couldn’t form into words, he wasn’t on autopilot this time, he didn’t and couldn’t let his body and wandering hands rule out the importance of who was in front of him.
But Lydia was making it so f*cking hard to concentrate and her little hands crept up his chest, her skin hot on his own and her fingers curled around the base of his neck, pulling him back down to her. She was hesitant this time, her lips were pulled between her teeth before she brought them to his in a kiss, and Stiles pulled back, looking at her with concerned eyes.

“Are you okay?’’ he repeated, his words whispered into the dark room. He let his hands squeeze her waist, comforting her as he waited for her answer.

He got it with a smile, a duck of her head before Lydia said, “it just feels like we’re doing everything backwards, you know?’’

Despite her unsure words, the nervousness flooded off and away from the girl, her voice light and matching Stiles’ quiet tone. She was still smiling as Stiles looked down at her, her green eyes dancing in what little light came from the window.

“Kitten,’’ Stiles voice cracked a little, his throat dry and hoarse from the way her body was pressed against his, “we don’t have to do… this… not right now. We can wait, I don’t want to fo-’’

Lydia cut him off with a shake off her head, her hands on his shoulders as her chest pushed up against his again, the material of her bra making something in his stomach drop and other parts of his body jump.
Her fingers found the ends of his dark hair at the nape of his neck and she played with them, making fire and ice run down his spine. His hands were still settled above her hips and they tightened on her skin at the touches she gave him. Stiles pulled her further into him, his tall frame towering over her in a way that made Lydia feel safe and secure and weak all at once.

“Stiles,’’ Lydia murmured, her lips level with his chest, “I told you a few months back that I wanted you,’’ she looked up at him unashamed, with big green eyes and truth in her voice, “that’s not changed, I thought you would’ve known that.’’

And Stiles did, so when he cleared his throat and nodded, it was with a hint of the smug smirk that the girl knew so well. He licked his lips as he watched her grin in return, his hands travelling up and down the smooth expanse of her back.

“We are doing everything backwards - I spent the first month of knowing you, pretty much hating your entire existence and-’’

“Harsh, Kitten,’’ Stiles cut in.

“And we’ve made out and rolled around in your bed and we’ve never been on a date-’’

“Hey, I took you out to that spot when we were studying the lunar cycles!’’

Lydia rose an eyebrow, “yeah, and remember how that ended?’’

“Touché”, the boy retorted with a wince, the cutting words and sharp arguments flooding back to him.

Lydia turned softer, her hands mapping out the planes of his chest as she walked backwards, taking Stiles with her. They were clumsy and they tripped over shoes and the edge of the rug but Stiles was focused on the gentle tilt of Lydia’s lips, the way she was still smiling at him, how he was still wrapped around her and determined to not let go.

“My point is,’’ she spoke into his lips, “that despite all of that, I still want you. I want you. And if you can promise me right here, right now, that after tonight, you’ll still want me too - then I’m yours.’’

Stiles’ eyes were wide and they raked over her face and pretty features as prettier words fell from her lips. Words that sounded so good and so promising and words that made him hard. He gulped, swallowing heavily as Lydia looked up at him, the silence making her bite and chew at her bottom lip.
Stiles nodded, his movements jerky and almost frantic as he clasped her flushed cheeks in his hands and stooped down to kiss her.

She was warm and she was sweet like honey and something that made Stiles groan into her. He whispered and moaned nonsense past her lips but Lydia could make out sounds and words of agreeance in his mumbles.
Pulling back with eyes that had turned to coal, Stiles nodded again, his swollen and bruised lips mirroring hers.

“Just you - no one else, I swear,’’ he rushed, his fingers digging into her hips as he lifted her frame onto the desk she wrote her essays at, “f*cking hell, Lydia, you’ve owned me for months now.’’

He pushed his lips to hers, his body following as the girl wrapped her bare legs around his hips in a way that was becoming achingly familiar. His hands were in her hair, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. Seconds turned into minutes before they broke apart, both breathless and panting as clung to each other, both refusing to take their hands away from any bare skin they could find on the other.

“Does this mean you have a girlfriend now , Stilinski?’’

Stiles felt the smile against his cheek as Lydia licked, kissed and nipped at his jaw, the teasing in her voice doing nothing to help the way his body reacted to her own. Bare skin was everywhere, hers soft and a burning shade of amber in the street lights from outside.

His laugh rumbled through him, vibrations fizzed across his chest and between them. Large, rough palms coasted down at ribs, the dips in her body taking his hands on a ride across her skin. He nipped at her bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth for a taste.

“I don’t know, Kitten,’’ Stiles matched her taunting tone, his voice low and playful, “you’re sure you’re a girl, yeah?’’

He grinned at the noise of protest that left her lips, the little laugh that came after it. Lydia tucked herself into his body, her tip of her nose brushing against the sensitive skin of his neck. Her hand found his much larger one on her waist and she linked her fingers with his. Taking Stiles’ hand with her, she started a journey down her body, skimming down her stomach until she reached her thighs, Stiles’ palm spreading warm over her legs. Her breath hitched as she slowly slipped their joined hands between her thighs, fingers and palms meeting cotton and heat and shower soaked material.
A minute of utter silence bathed them. Stunned silence, shocked silence, silence filled with electricity and colossal amounts of tension. It swam around them, swirling amongst their panted breaths, their parted lips. Finally, Lydia spoke:

“Wanna find out?’’

Lydia’s back hit the cold wood of the desk, a shocking contrast to the warm palms that now covered the inside of her thighs, spreading her legs so the body they belonged to could fit between them. Stiles hovered above her, his hands curving round to grip her hips, her ass. His eyes were dark and hooded, lazily raking over her body that was spread out for him. His lips were parted, glistening slightly in the dark as he licked at them, pulled them between his teeth. He palmed at at hips, his hands dragged across her skin, still damp from the shower but warm from the building temperature in the small room. Fingers dug into her sides and Lydia hissed as a messy head dropped to her stomach, dragging out open mouthed kisses on her skin. His nose nudged at the lace cups of her bra, impatiently moving it out of his way so he could suck and lick at the sensitive dips and hills there. All too soon, he moved away, kissing a line down the girl's body until he could dip his tongue into her hipbones, skate his lips across the edge of her underwear.

Lydia let out a strangled cry, fisting his hair in her hands as Stiles smiled into her skin, nipping playfully before soothing away the sting with a kiss and a stroke of his tongue. He took his time, moving over body slowly, greedily, travelling down until his lips pressed heat to where she was already hot.
His lips mouthed over the soft cotton of her underwear, the little flowers turning darker in colour under the ministrations of his lips and tongue. And Lydia arched her back at the touch, a gasp leaving her throat that left her burning up inside. She bowed upwards, her fingers tugging at the boy’s hair, dragging back up her body as his lazy smirk came into view, his eyes filled with sin. He wanted to explore, to touch, to taste everywhere. His one night before with Lydia had been blurred by vodka, cloaked by the pitch black of his room at night. They had both shed some clothes, but never enough to fully feel each other, skin against skin, heat meeting heat where it mattered.

This time, was going to be different, he told himself, making a silent promise to her. No rushed hands or fumbles underneath dresses. Stiles remembered months ago, a tipsy Lydia leaning into him during a game of truth or dare with their friends in his living room. Telling only him how her ex had been efficient and quick in bed, no rumpled sheets or messed up hair. No kiss bruised skin or bitten lips.
He had pouted to her then, a good-natured, humoured reply to the girl who was nothing more than friend. In his head he had imagined her stretched out on his mattress, up against his wall, tucked underneath him, moving slow and hard on top of him.

Stiles placed one last kiss to her hipbone, a soft, pretty little piece of skin that seared under his lips. He made a promise then, to love her and make her wild.
But if the boy thought that he was in charge, he was very much mistaken. Before Stiles could wrap long fingers around the waistband of Lydia’s underwear, the girl sat up, her chest panting and her hair drying into curls and tangles around her flushed face.

“Up,’’ she commanded, her voice husky and low.

Stiles’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, his lips parting as the girl before him slid off her desk, one bra strap hanging teasingly, tauntingly, dangerously off of her shoulder. She moved quickly, her eyes roaming greedily over his bare chest,staring at the bands of muscles that twist and ripple as he stood up straight. The smile falls from the boys face as Lydia moved him backwards, his hands falling from her body. Soon, it returns in the form of a co*cky smirk, her touch running across the edge of his jeans. His mouth falls open as her fingers hook underneath the waistband, tapping teasingly on the button that’s still holding them on his narrow hips.

“Off,’’ is the next instruction to fall from her lips, red and sharp and laced with promises.

Together, they fumbled with his belt, the leather snapping harshly in the quiet room as it was whipped away from his hips and dropped to the floor. It joined the girls boots, her jumper, Stiles’ soaking wet shirt. His jeans follow, pooling at his feet before Lydia kicked them away for him, her body slamming into his once more with a greed and an ache that he feels just as much as she does.

Something detonates between them then, reality hits them as they fall into each other, naked skin pressed against wet underwear and green lace. Stiles gathered Lydia into his arms, cradling the back of her head as he brought her lips to his, both of them groaning into one another, pushing, pulling, sucking, licking, nipping, kissing.
His hands were everywhere and nowhere near all the places he wanted to touch at once. He brushed gentle fingertips down her cheeks, along her jaw as he kissed her, deeply, slowly. Lydia felt his touch dance along her back, sending fireworks down her spine as deft fingers unhooked her bra. Greedily, his hands fell away once more, instead, grazing along the curve of her ass, her underwear still in the way. She pulled eagerly at his neck, his broad shoulders - anything to get him to come down to her height - anything for her to be able to kiss him more deeply, to feel the push and pull of his lips with her tongue. She wanted his teeth on her neck, his mouth on her chest.

One rough hand found its way underneath her thigh, pulling it up against his hip until Lydia could feel him through the little layers they had left. He was hard and something in the air fizzed, making Lydia’s skin burn and her eyes close tightly. His breath was harsh and she swallowed it along with his kisses. They turned and tumbled and danced clumsily across the bedroom floor together, spinning in the darkness until the boy managed to get Lydia in his arms again, his hands cupping her ass as she pressed her entire body to his chest.
She wriggled and rocked against him, her mind dizzy and her lips numb. Cries and moans bit through kisses that tasted of sugar and Stiles, and the boy swore when her hips met his.

“Bed,’’ was the next instruction, a beg and a prayer and a wish uttered through two pairs of parted lips.

Stiles nodded, agreeing with everything she said as he crossed the room, the light and shadows making Lydia’s skin glow and dance with patterns in the dark. His knees found her bed and the fell onto it, Lydia underneath him and clinging to his body in a way he didn’t ever think he would get used to. Finally, with gravity on their side, he could settle a little of his weight on top of the girl, one arm bracing his body by her head whilst the other kneaded the skin on her hip, his fingers curling around the edge of her underwear as her soft cries of his name bounced off every wall.

He pressed down into her, just slightly and he hissed through his name as the girl moaned, her hips pushing back up to meet his as he arms curled around his neck. Her little feet were skimming along his legs, coming up to his waist as Lydia pinned him between her thighs. Toes pushed at the band of his boxers and Stiles chuckled into her mouth, loving how she responded with a grin against his lips, her teeth grazing his skin. She was as impatient as him, as greedy, as frantic - and he adored it.

Their hips rolled and curses fell and flew from their mouths when they weren’t fused together. Everything was warm and deep, with damp skin and tangled hair. They were all lips and tongues and hands and teeth and Lydia was flying, crying out with every push that Stiles rocked against her hips. The boy was fire and she was already burning.

Her fingers were shaking when they met his on her hips, insatiable hands that gripped her underwear with a desperate edge that they were both so f*cking aware of. A little sob escaped Lydia’s throat as they slowly pulled the material down her legs, Stiles’ calloused palms skimming along her skin as they went. He touched her hips, her thighs, her legs, her calves before he dragged them over her feet. They fell into the abyss of the dark floor and his eyes scalded her as he sat back on his knees and looked down.

Pale skin on white sheets and strawberry blonde hair that was nothing more than a hot mess by that point. Her toes curled under his gaze and her thighs were warm and prickled with goosebumps under his touch. She groaned and parted her lips in anticipation when his fingers travelled back up her legs, barely dancing along the inside of her thigh. She gasped and he hissed and swore when his finger swept down the length of her, soft skin under the pad of his thumb.
Stiles fell into the girl, hovering over her, their parted lips barely touching as they breathed in each other’s sobs and moans and aching whimpers as his fingers dipped and curled inside of her. Her hands were wrapped around his wrist, not guiding his movements, not telling him to stop, but daring him to try and move away. It was ecstasy, fire on her skin, tequila in her blood, vodka on her lips and it was all Stiles. He took away her moans of pleasure that he created - that he owned - with kisses unbearably light and sweet and smiles that made her stomach curl with too many emotions.

His hands smoothed back her hair when she came with a high, needy moan, her back arching from the bed and her nails digging into his shoulders, his fingers working eagerly until she called out his name and crushed her lips to his. Stiles took it all, his eyes hooded and heavy as he watched her come undone, totally fall apart just for him. He was high, he was flying, he was floating on f*cking air and it was all Lydia.

Lydia sat up with heavy bones and legs that shook, her hands making quick work of discarding the boys underwear. He was hard and soft and smooth and desperate when she reached out for him and he jerked under her touch and groaned her name. He captured her hands in his, placing a kiss on each palm as he squeezed his eyes shut and admitted with a growl into her lips:

“I’m already close, Kitten.’’

But she smiled and wrapped one little hand around him anyway, stroking until his head fell back and his lips fell open and his knees almost collapsed under the him. His hands were shaking and his chest was panting when he leaned back over her, the bodies brushing against each other in ways that made them both moan and clench their teeth.

“Top drawer,’’ Lydia told him, her lips leaving open mouthed kisses on his jaw, his neck, his chest, the corner of his lips.

The foil packet fumbled in his hands and Lydia wasn’t much help with her frantic actions that made them drop it into the mess of sheets twice, smiles on their lips and laughter filling the silence. But it turned to awe and quiet as the girl managed to get everything right and with her hands back on him, Stiles felt almost pained. He settled between her legs, his hands cradling her face, bracing his weight on top of her and they let out strangled noises of f*cking euphoria as he rocked his hips slightly, slipping into her.

Lydia was almost savage as she gripped onto the boy, her hands roaming over parts of him she didn’t get to touch everyday and her mind was spinning because, f*ck, everything felt so good. She clung to his shoulders, her hands pushing and pulling his hips as she silently asked for harder, faster. His heavy breath was in her ear, his low, throaty moans that came with kissed on her neck, open mouth and hot on her skin.

His hips rolled over her own, deeper, more sure and confident and Stiles found her little hand with his, pinning into the pillow as their fingers intertwined. The other brought her leg up to his hip and he grinned at the gasping moan that Lydia rewarded him with. Her lips were swollen from his, a shade of red that no lipstick could ever mimic and he sighed when he dropped back down to her, kissing her slowly, deeply, carefully, and his movements matched his mouth.

They moved, tangled together, for what seemed like hours. Car lights outside flashed over the windows, creating stripes of red and white when Lydia rolled her hips on top to Stiles, her body rocking against his as he sat in the middle of her messy sheets, his arms around her waist, roaming over her skin.
Everything became too good and their throats turned raw and eventually greedy kisses turned to mouths parted against each other, foreheads leaning on the others for support.

Lydia fell apart first and Stiles made sure of it. He had tucked her back underneath him, his hips driving forwards until her sighs turned to moans and whimpers that got higher and louder. His hands left hers to stroke between them, his lips pushing against hers in desperate kisses, his persuasive words whispered and groaned into her mouth. He told her how good she felt, how amazing she was, how f*cking pretty she was.

He told her to let go and she did, exploding to f*cking stardust and galaxies and she was sure the moon and the skies in the window outside turned to lilac and pink. Stiles fell after her, his body moving faster and harder and deeper until his moans grew louder and urgent and desperate in her ear. His body stilled but his lips pressed everything he had into her skin, on her neck, her lips. And they kissed slower, lazily, her hands in his hair and his roaming over her back as he cradled her to him.

“You okay?’’ He panted.

“Yeah,'' Lydia answered, breathless and gasping for air.

“You’re shaking, Kitten,’’ he told her, and there’s pride and happiness and a smile in his voice.

“I know,'' she tells him, unabashed and rosy cheeked, with the same emotions he felt shining back at him.

It was three am when they fall asleep, Lydia on her stomach and cradled between Stiles legs, her cheek on his chest and sheets that are crinkled wrapped around them. Their faces are still flushed, Stiles fingers curled into the girls fiery hair. In their sleep they fumble together, lips seeking out the others naked skin, just to press a kiss to their cheek, their chest, their neck. The other one smiled, lazily, sleepily, barely awake but so f*cking happy.

Chapter 26: Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Text

This is a mess of a chapter and I hate it. I'm sorry it took so long. Thanks for being so patient you lovely people.

"I'm thinking it's a sign, that the freckles in our eyes
are mirror images and when we kiss they're perfectly aligned.''

The car engine made the window vibrate angrily underneath Lydia's head, her messy bun wobbling precariously on top of her copper curls. Her shoes were kicked to the floor, her legs curled underneath her, a woollen blanket around her small frame as her eyelids drooped heavily. Allison was beside her, her own long legs covered in soft sweatpants and stretched out on Lydia's lap, her phone screen illuminating her face in the dark morning, the sun only beginning to rise in front of the queue of traffic they were stuck in.

It was Monday, only eight am, but the Holiday rush was making getting to New York a challenge no one had really anticipated. There were three days left until Thanksgiving and Stiles had convinced them that leaving Princeton early would ensure they would arrive without any hassle. Every other student on campus and within a fifty mile radius seemed to have similar ideas and the one hour journey had turned into three. They were stuck just outside of New Brunswick, on a road that was framed by red and amber trees and the sound of power drills hammering into the roadside. Construction vehicles beeped and groaned outside of the Jeep, making Lydia curl into herself further.

If she really tried, she reckoned she could have slept through the noise, but then, every now and again, Scott would say something and Stiles' voice would answer.

And that had her eyes peeking out over the top of her blanket nest, her cheeks warming as she blatantly checked him out from her seat in the back. She sat diagonally from him, just at the right angle to see the cuts of his jawline, his angled cheekbones, the slant of his nose that she had never really found adorable until that moment.

Her toes curled inside her fluffy socks as she thought back to how they had woken up hours earlier, when the sun hadn't made the world warm yet. The wind had battered her windows in the old dorm building and her cell had told her it was just past five am. Her body ached in ways she hadn't felt for a long time, sensitive and tender and hooked up to a live wire. The sheets moved when she did, her torso tight from the way she had curled herself into the body next to her. She had stretched, shifting slightly, moaning a little into the dark room as she did so. When Lydia had settled back down, she lay her cheek against the pillow, smiling as bourbon coloured eyes gazed back.

The second time, it was slower but rougher. Stiles had kissed her with a laziness that wasn't there the first time, both of them still laced with sleep and without the urgency their frenzied hormones had given them before. His mouth had slanted over her own and Lydia had responded with a little sigh and she offered no resistance when she let the boy roll her to her side. His hands were everywhere at once, teasing, grazing, stroking and she had been panting into her pillow with the least amount of shame.

His lips had been on her neck and after the second hurried fumble in her bedside drawer, he had rocked into her from behind, both of them on their side and Lydia's hand curled around his neck so she could pull him down to meet her lips. He left teeth marks on her shoulder when they both came, his moans muffled in the crook of her neck, his fingers leaving bruises on her hips.

She had clawed at his neck in response, gripped a handful of his dark hair in her fist, pulling as she wriggled in his arms, whimpering under his careful and concentrated fingers.

They had lay until half past six afterwards, half asleep with smiles on their lips when they weren't attached. Stiles had kissed his way down her body and back again, twice over and the girl felt legless, her body pulled into the mattress by an unseen force that was desperate to make her stay in bed all day long. So when Stiles had bit her earlobe and told her he needed to go home to pack, she had actually pouted. He kissed it away and ended up between her legs for a third time, her bare thighs bracketing his hips as his hands roamed and wander to all the new places he had found on her body. When she came again, it was with Stiles' palm clamped over her mouth, two fingers inside of her, muffling the moans from her neighbouring students that had sounded very much awake and moving next door. Lydia hadn't found it in her to care.

He had been dressed and leaving as Allison had walked through the door, suppressing a badly hidden smile as she greeted the flustered looking pair good morning. Stiles had nodded politely to the brunette, backing out of their doorway as he kept his heavy gaze and playful smile on Lydia, who was in the middle of the mess that was her bed, swamped in the sweater he had left for her.

The strawberry blonde had eyed her friend warily, watching as she skirted around the mess of clothes on the floor, raising her brows at the overturned lamp on their desk and the riot that was her hair. Allison had smirked at the hand prints on the window, bit her lip at the sheets that were hanging off of the mattress.

She had only said one thing to Lydia and that had caused a hairbrush to be launched in her general direction.

"Finally. But, you better have not done it in my bed.''

She had texted Scott within seconds and Lydia had the pleasure in hearing that Stiles was receiving the same treatment in his apartment from his friends. When the blue Jeep had pulled up in front of their dorm an hour later, Lydia had showered and packed, thrown Stiles jumper back on with her jeans and avoided all eye contact with Scott until he relented and sat in the seat in front of her.

The tension and awkward humour in the air had finally disappeared as they drove away from campus, last night's drama and events almost forgotten about as sleep kicked in.

Now, as the construction workers brandished power tools worryingly close to the Jeep, Lydia yawned and Allison shuffled her body lower into the seat, her toes prodding into Lydia's ribs. The girl scowled in annoyance, tearing her eyes away from Stiles' profile to look over at the brunette.

"What?'' Lydia grumbled, rubbing tiredly at her eyes.

The other girl said nothing, merely grinning back at her friend, wiggling her eyebrows comically as she too, stole looks at Stiles. The boy looked as tired as Lydia did, but despite the reddish smudges under his eyes, he had never appeared more alive. The air around him buzzed and hummed and he had taken to drumming out a beat on the steering wheel when they were stopped in traffic. The queues were long and Scott had groaned several times over, but Stiles had simply shrugged and used the opportunity of them stopping to reach back and stroke the nearest part of Lydia he could find. He pulled playfully on her toes until she squealed, traced patterns on her calf as she woke up from a nap, played with her fingers between his until his arm grew sore and uncomfortable from the position he had put it in.

Scott made retching noises from the passenger seat, grinning and laughing at Lydia's blush with Allison - but despite their teasing, neither one of their friends lets up on their displays of affection. Finally, when they were only an hour away from New York - and stuck in another traffic jam - Scott sighs and tells Stiles he'll drive the rest of the way. Normally, an argument would ensue about how no one drives the jeep apart from him, but Stiles grinned and all but threw himself out the driver's seat, passing Ally in the midst of the rows of cars. She laughed as he grinned at her, the early afternoon sun finally bringing a little more warmth to their faces.

Allison slapped Scott's ass as she opened the passenger door, pushing her boyfriend over to the drivers side. They both buckled up and the girl ignored Stiles' protests as she propped her feet on the dash, her fingers twirling the dial to find a suitable radio station. He almost continued until he remembered the girl beside him, bundled in his sweater and a blanket. And she looked so adorable and warm and soft - and Stiles knew exactly how she felt under his clothes, how smooth her skin was, how she had a freckle where her hipbone dipped on her right side. He knew the noises she made when he kissed down her body, that she swore so impressively, Isaac would have blushed, when his teeth grazed her thighs.

He moved into the smaller, more impracticable, middle seat with the dodgy spring and the seatbelt that didn't really work right. But he was closer to Lydia and he smiled when the girl immediately moved into him, her cheek to his chest - just at the right height for Stiles to drop his chin on top of her curls. Stiles could've sworn she purred as he sank his fingers into the tangles at the nape of her neck and he chuckled until she responded by pushing her little hand under his shirt, her palm making slow sweeps over his stomach muscles.

He caught Scott's eye in the rear view mirror and he rolled his eyes good naturedly at his friends grin. He understood the other boys curiosity though, this, this relationship he had with this girl was a novelty, a new thing in the world that exploded into his universe like a pretty, little atom bomb.

In his head, the word "boyfriend'', still made him a little uneasy, but looking down at the strawberry blonde head of curls beside him made the anxiety in his stomach settle. The thought of Lydia tucked up beside anyone but him made something else claw at his chest, something ugly and green, with a fierce protectiveness living inside it. But he smiled at Scott, letting that gut wrenching feeling die with the ugly thoughts that came with it, instead, threading his fingers with the girls, one thumb rubbing over her palm as she dozed easily and the traffic slowly moved.

_______________________________________

"Dad? Hey, Dad?''

Lydia followed Stiles with careful, cautious feet into the Stilinski household, her eyes taking in the chaotic home with a small smile on her face. There was books on the staircase, striped scarves and woollen hats lining the hooks on the walls. Pictures were encased in mismatched frames, elegant and ornate, lopsided and askew. Each filled with smiling faces, a smaller version of Stiles and a beautiful woman with dark, raven hair. They had dropped Scott and Allison off a few streets down before pulling up outside an old Brownstone house, the street lined with trees that had probably once held an abundance of leaves. Instead, they coated the side walk in red, amber and brown and crunched under the sneakers Lydia had eventually slipped on her feet.

The blanket she had worn had slipped from her shoulders when they crossed one of the countless bridges that spanned over the Hudson River half an hour before.. The Empire State Building was in front of them and the boys had laughed and grinned at their girlfriends excitement. Lydia had came to life suddenly, gripping Stiles' hand as she pressed herself and her smile against the window. Her hair had matched the colour of the trees they passed in Central Park, the pumpkins that lined that windows of the bakeries on 1st Avenue. She was a long way from home, from the much smaller, less intimidating streets of Beacon Hills.

Everything was big, busy, alive and exciting.

But as she stood before the beautiful, old buildings that held Stiles' home, the excitement lessened and the sensations in her stomach turned to nerves. Her back faced the Stiles, the boy behind her as he pulled their bags from the trunk. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, looking up at the tall windows and taller roofs. One of the front windows was opened and the smell of an early lunch floated through it, a softly whistled tune accompanying it that made Stiles smile.

He bundled up the concrete steps, both his and Lydia's bag in one hand as he took hers in the other. The whistling became louder as they reached the stoop, an old, wooden door the only thing separating them from an occasion that even Stiles seemed to be nervous about.

But he opened the door with a flourish, setting their bags down beside a small pile of boots and shoes. The wide staircase led up to what Lydia assumed was bedrooms and a bathroom or two, but she wasn't entirely sure of the open layout in front of her. There were hardly any doors, and instead, Stiles led her through an archway, the walls painted a mossy green that made the mismatched couch and armchair look warm and cosy. They were crowded around a huge fireplace, another surface adorned with photo frames old and new. There was a coffee table heaped with more books, some with tattered spines and others with titles that included "crime and law''.

Wooden floorboards were worn under Lydia's feet but richly coloured rugs made the room warmer and softer. Another window was slightly open, letting in the sounds from the street, the wind that held a slightly crisp edge. But the sun was shining still, leaking into the parlour room that Lydia had decided that she adored.

There was a wooden piano standing against one wall, a knitted blanket folded neatly on top of it, aged baseball bats leaned against its side and a few cared for plants were dotted around the room, hanging from ceiling corners in a way that reminded Lydia of a miniature greenhouse. Everything about the Stilinski household was warm and soft and fresh, and it was such a massive contrast to Lydia's mother's home that it baffled her. There was nothing too white, too modern and clinical that was passed off as "art''.

Tables and floorboards creaked and groaned, and the edges of the rug frayed and there were various lines on the door frame marked with Stiles' name and age. The house was old and lived in and loved. It was the bigger version of Stiles bedroom back in Princeton, with dark wood and little trinkets and pages of books scattered around and it already seemed so familiar to Lydia.

The whistling was still present, coming from another room that was accessible through another regally decorated arch and one little step. The kitchen was a just as chaotic as the living area, with the same warm toned walls and huge range cooker that looked older than the two college students. Copper pots and pans hung from a rack above it and fresh herbs dotted the windowsill that looked out onto the main street. Something on the hob was boiling in a pot, and sat at a wide, oak table in the middle of the room, was a man reading a newspaper. The chairs were mismatched and one side of the table was finished with a long bench with no back, but sat at the biggest chair of them all, appeared to be Stiles' father.

Thinly rimmed glasses sat on his nose and he was almost hidden amongst more books, some decorated with illustrations and recipes for pies. He still had his uniform on and his badge hung from the pocket on his chest, a pen tucked behind his right ear.

Mr. Stilinski was just as handsome as his son, his hair a sandy brown underneath the little grey that had started to show. His eyes were as blue as Stiles' were brown, both men had eyes that held more than the one colour and the Chief of Police had eyes that twinkled when he grinned. Lydia watched this as he looked up and saw them, standing with a smile as Stiles immediately stepped into his father's open arms, both of them heartily clapping each other on the back as the mumbled their hello's into each other's shoulder.

He was tall and lean like his son, his years of police training keeping him fit and healthy and he turned to look at Lydia with a smile that was warm and golden. He glanced at his son expectantly, waiting for a proper introduction.

"Dad,'' he began, placing a reassuring hand on the small of Lydia's back, "this is Lydia. Lydia, this is my dad.''

There was no fanfare or huge preamble, and no one mentioned the "G'' word but Lydia was okay with that. Going by the look on Stiles' father's face, she quickly realised that this mustn't have happened a lot. 'Cause he grinned wider, opening his arms too for Lydia. And she stepped into them, receiving a warm hug from the older Stilinski man. He squeezed her shoulder, holding her at arm's length as he smiled and took her in.

It was then that the girl wished she had changed from her sweatpants and she pulled slightly at the hem of Stiles' sweater.

"So you're the girl that has my son wrapped around her little finger?''

Lydia flushed and stuttered and she turned to Stiles who was already picking at piles of veg on a chopping board. He turned, crunching on a slice of red pepper as he shrugged and smiled good naturedly. Completely unfazed by his father's words, he told him, "yeah, pretty much.''

His casual statement made Lydia blush harder, a warm pink covering her cheeks that she hoped she could pass off as heat from the kitchen. But the Chief simply winked at her, still smiling and seemingly shaking off his own surprise at his son's' words. Apparently, Stiles dating was a shock to everyone.

After Stiles' father turned down the heat on the casserole he was making, they moved into the parlour whilst father and son discussed the traffic and how college was going. Lydia sat next to Stiles, her body sinking into the comfy couch as the boy rubbed circles into her knee. The Chief asked Lydia about her own studies, her family back in California, all whilst Stiles proudly told his father of Lydia's ridiculously impressive grades. She blushed and the Chief laughed and more conversations poured as the two Stilinski's pointed out old photos that led to hilarious stories and mishaps that included a younger Stiles - and usually Scott.

Eventually the clock ticked forward and the sun sunk into navy clouds, sending brilliant streams of orange light into the living room, bathing the three of them in a late evening glow. The smell from the kitchen was rich with spices, warm and inviting. The Chief stood from his armchair and stretched, telling Stiles to be a gentleman and show Lydia to the spare room while he got dinner out on the table.

The boy nodded automatically as he stood, taking a few steps to the hallway before turning and rounding on his father with one raised eyebrow.

"The spare room, really Dad?''

Lydia chose to inspect the staircase as Stiles frowned at his father's amused smirk.

"Yes, really, Son.''

"But-''

"Stiles, just do as you're told for once and show Lydia where the spare room is.''

A silent stand off ensued, with both father and son staring at each other with varying degrees of annoyance. Lydia bit her lip to keep the laughter from escaping, toying with the edges of the sweater she wore instead. When Stiles huffed and the Chief grinned, it ended and Stiles picked up both of their bags again before gesturing to the girl to head up the stairs.

_______________________________________

"Lydia Martin, I've seen enough sh*tty, teen movies to know how this is meant to go. Now, get your cute, little ass in my bed. You're supposed to sneak in.''

It was nearing two am and Stiles was standing in the open door way of the spare room, playfully glaring at the girl who was already tucking into her bed.

"Oh really?''

"Yes, it's like, the unwritten rules,'' he told her, his whole, entire being silently telling her 'duh'.

Lydia rolled her eyes and fussed with her hair instead of answering, choosing to unravel the bun that her curls had been held in all day. They had enjoyed a dinner with Stiles' father, sharing stories and conversations about college classes and childhood over warm, buttered rolls and a casserole that was apparently an old family recipe. Eventually, the night had grown darker and the Chief had finally unclipped his badge from his shirt, laying it on the table by his armchair before announcing that it was time for him to go to bed. He had told Lydia for the fourth time how lovely it was to have her here with them, how welcome she was in their home, smiling at her with the same warmth that she saw in his son. He had clapped Stiles on the shoulder, pride exuding from him as he exited and climbed the stairs to bed, the house and it's floorboards creaking with him as he went.

"There's rules?'' she responded, her voice mocking and playful.

Stiles faltered for only a second, one corner of his lips edging up higher than the other as he shuffled awkwardly in his cotton pyjama pants.

"Yes,'' he stated.

Lydia smothered her grin and smoothed out the blankets that covered her, the crisp, fresh sheets that adorned the double bed she had been given for her stay. She looked back at the boy in the doorway, the one illuminated by the soft glow of the bedside lamp, the one who was grinning at her in way that made heat pool in her stomach.

"Do the rules include listening to your dad and respecting the guidelines he blatantly laid down?''

The boy danced around her words slightly, his smile only dropping for a second before he perked up, eyeing the thin strap of her tank that slipped from her shoulder. He shook his head.

Another smile was smothered as Lydia grinned to the blankets instead, her fingers twisting in her lap.

"Do the rules include me sneaking into your childhood bedroom and having painfully quiet sex with your dad down the hall?''

His lips fell into a little 'o', the same shape they always made when Lydia surprised him, which, when he thought about it, was rather often. Stiles quickly turned his shock into a grin, one that only widened when the girl before him warmed under his gaze and he nodded exuberantly at her question - despite the fact he was sure it was rhetorical.

Which is why he was shocked again when the girl smirked and slid out of bed, brushing past his body as she sneaked expertly down the hall and slipped into his room. She looked back, just once, through the crack in his door, an eyebrow arched in a silent question.

One large, rough palm spanned the width of her torso and his fingertips dragged down the ridges of her ribs, skimming the underside of her breast. Stiles had thought he had seen all of the Lydia's there was, he had even picked out his favourites. Sleepy Lydia with her too long jumpers and messy hair, Lydia with her glasses on, thick rimmed and a rare sight - one he only usually seen in the college library, late at night when she tasted like cinnamon and coffee.

Then there was the way her cheeks flushed pink as she argued with him, her eyes bright and her lips wet from when she bit them in frustration, the edges of them curling when he called her Kitten to tease and ramp her up. It always worked, and the boy gloated in the way she turned into a little storm before him.

But they all had nothing on this Lydia, the one that was greedy and eager and completely and utterly desperate for him. She was insatiable and Stiles adored it, she was alive underneath him and hands pulled and touched until Lydia became impatient and she wanted to be on top.

He let her, lying back on the pillows as she rolled and rocked her hips over him. He was weak for her, a lazy smile on his face that was interrupted by quiet gasps and low groans as she pulled more pleasure from him than anyone had ever had before.

There was fire in his bones and Lydia's hands and lips soothed the burn under his skin. And he let her, watching with heavy eyes and complete awe as she leaned down, her hands on his bare chest, tracing the dips of his clavicle. Her lips were heavy on his, deep and sweet and he grunted into her, his hands dancing up her thighs, dragging over her hips, her back. His palms were huge on her small body, fingers pressing bruises into her tiny waist and he could hold her to him so easily, control her movements to what he wanted and what he needed - but he didn't. His knuckles skimmed over her skin and he curled his hands just above Lydia's thighs instead, accepting everything she gave him with heavy breaths, fluttering eyelids and small, playful grins.

"More,'' the girl told him, choking off a moan as he pushed up into her.

"Demanding,'' he mocked, but Stiles helped her move faster anyway, giving Lydia what she asked for, 'cause he realised a while ago that he'd never really been able to say no to her.

So he rolled her gently, careful of the noisy springs as he tucked her underneath him again. She clung to him immediately, her hands finding purchase on the broad planes of his shoulders, curling round his arms, skimming down his back. He almost laughed then, the thought of Lydia in his old bed, surrounded by baseball paraphernalia, old, curling posters of Blink 182 and Weezer. But she arched under him, causing one fist to tighten its hold on his pillow behind her head. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his eyes squeezing shut as Lydia made little noises, her teeth biting at his shoulder.

"Faster, please,'' she asked, her voice quiet and cracking.

He obeyed and Stiles hooked one of her legs up higher, rocking into her deeper as Lydia struggled to contain the little yelp he created on her lips. Stiles grinned at the sight of her clamping her hand around her mouth and it was a smile of sheer joy and happiness that became contagious and the two of them fell apart together, panting and gasping for air with grins on their lips.

They lay tangled together, sweaty and too warm for hours, not one of them wanting to move as they dropped kisses on each other's lips and bodies. Hands traced curves and muscles and they whispered quietly to each other, silly little things that meant nothing and everything at once. On more than one occasion Lydia had to smother face in Stiles' pillow as laughter trickled out of her, too loud for the darkness that bathed the house. Eventually, their bodies became heavier, their lips tired and their cheeks aching from smiling so much. Sleep caught up quickly and Stiles moaned childishly when Lydia slowly crawled out from underneath his arm. She smiled in response, smoothing back his hair before dropping a kiss to his forehead and pulling on the pyjamas he had tugged off of her the minute he had gotten her in his bed.

Lydia yanked her shorts back up her legs, the embarrassed flush that was usually there gone as Stiles' amber eyes watched her from his bed. He followed her movements so carefully, with eyes that were softer than his bed mussed hair. When she smiled once more and turned to the door, his hands caught hers and softly pulled her back down to him. She landed next to him on the mattress and the girl could do nothing but sigh happily as the boy pushed his lips to hers, tilting her head with his hands so he could kiss her goodnight, deeply and slowly. When almost twenty minutes had passed, they emerged once more, their lips swollen from each other's and their chests heaving with what little oxygen they had left. Stiles pouted playfully as he watched the girl leave his bedroom and creep back down the hall to the spare room, the sounds of boy's father snoring following her all the way.

_______________________________________

"C'mon, Kitten, wakey wakey.''

Lydia's head rose from the pillow, her eyes bleary and filled with sleep and confusion. Looking at the clock on the desk beside her, she hissed in disgust to see that it wasn't even six am. But it was New York and the city was already alive and the air pulsed with possibilities. Stiles was there, hovering above her in the dim morning light and he was so f*cking pretty it hurt. He smiled as she blatantly looked him over, her eyes skimming from his own before dropping to his lips. And he ached inside, his body and mind yelling at him to climb into bed with her, to feel her little body warm and pressed up against his own.

The covers slipped from her as she shifted, becoming a little more awake underneath him. His too large shirt fell from her frame, revealing soft skin and sharp collarbones that were still decorated with the marks he left the night before.

"Stiles, what the hell?'' Her voice was soft and raspy and the moan she made when she stretched herself out below him became embedded into Stiles' skin.

Her lips pouted and Stiles grinned when Lydia let her hands reach up and wander over his chest, her frown deepening when she realised he was fully clothed. She pulled him down anyway, her face nuzzling into his neck in a way that he had become familiar with a few mornings before. She clung to him like a limpet, murmuring sleepily when he chuckled at her, groaning when her wandering hands sneaked into his hoody, her fingers skimming over his sides.

"Time to get up pretty girl,'' he whispered to her, kissing a path from her neck to her cheek.

"Huh? What? No,'' is the muffled response that comes from the space between his shoulder and neck. He can almost feel Lydia's brow furrow against his skin and he let out another laugh into her mussed up hair. He dropped another kiss behind her ear too, just 'cause.

Stiles hummed playfully, letting Lydia pull him down into her a little more. He settled between her legs that she separated for him, his forearms bracketing her head as his hands smoothed back the stray curls that fell over her cheeks. The feel of his bodyweight on top of her own had the girl waking up a little more and she wriggled slightly against him, her eyes still closed but her lips parted as her breathing quickened.

Stiles dropped his face into the crook of her neck, groaning in defiance as he told himself that this was not what he sneaked into the spare room for.

But like always, Lydia was warm and soft and just as tempting as she was the first time he met her. The sheet was still trapped between them but the girl raised her knees on either side of his body, creating a cradle in her hips that was just for him. And he fit there perfectly and it took everything Stiles had to not rock his body into her cause, f*ck if he wasn't already hard.

"Kitten, I've got something planned, come on,'' he enticed, his voice light, playful and full of promise but it dropped a few octaves when he let out a rasping "f*ck'', when Lydia's hands scraped through his hair, pulling slightly on the longer ends of it.

She grinned, finally allowing her eyes to open and adjust to the light that flooded in from the window. Stiles took up most of her view anyway, the room around her fading into the shadows the morning still held as he smirked down at her. She could feel how hard he was, pressing into her thigh with nothing but the sheet and her thin sleep shorts to separate them. She smiled wider, brighter 'cause after one night in bed with Stiles, she had picked up an infinite amount of secrets about him. Like how he loved her hands in her hair, how his hips canted into hers with the slightest tug on his messy ends. She did it once more, twice more, just to feel the pressure of him pushing into her - the hard, broad planes of his body that were so male and still so new to her.

"S'early'', she commented, her voice quiet and soft.

Stiles nodded, his lips pressed onto her warm cheek, his smile ghosting over her skin as she let out a little yawn.

"It is,'' he agreed, "but I wanna take you somewhere and it'll get real busy soon so we have to leave now, alright?''

"Mmm...'' Lydia groaned, her noises muffled as she pulled Stiles back down and into her again, her nose pressed into the soft skin on his neck.

"C'mon Kitten'', he cajoled once more, his own lips falling into a semblance of a pout, "I wanna take you out on a date, remember?''

He grinned at the way her head fell back onto the pillow, her green eyes wide and full of wonder and questions. She lit up, her lips tilting upwards as something in her decided it couldn't contain the happiness she felt at his simple words. Lydia bit down on her bottom lip, playing with it between her teeth in a way that Stiles knew she was hiding her grin.

"A date? Really?''

He nodded as something fierce and primal in his chest reprimanded him and he looked down at the girl beneath him, the one who was the f*cking definition of joy at that moment, and he kicked himself. 'Cause why the f*ck hadn't this happened sooner?

Confusion clouded her pretty features as Lydia craned her neck to look at the clock once more, checking to see that, yes, it was only six in the morning. She co*cked an eyebrow at the boy and he grinned happily, proud of the plan that sat quietly in his head.

"Where the hell are we going at freaking dawn, Stiles?'' Lydia asked, baffled, as the boy pushed one last kiss to her lips, moaning into her a little as he let his mouth linger on hers, "Is there anywhere even open at this time?''

He smiled as he turned back to her, his grin taking up the whole room as she propped herself up on her elbows, blowing stray waves of copper out of her eyes.

"Kitten, there are places in New York that are just closing right now,'' he quirked an eyebrow at her, "And we're going for breakfast.''

"Breakfast?''

"Breakfast.''

"This is starting to feel very 'Coyote Ugly','' Lydia quipped, a smile drawing the corners of her lips up. She swung her legs out of bed, frowning at the cold air that met her skin.

"Slip some Jack into my coffee and you could have me dancing on a bar for you, no problem,'' Stiles smirked, his eyes on her bare thighs and his tongue peeking out of his lips.

He held out a hand to her, which she took without hesitation. Stiles pulled her up and into him, smiling softly as she stood on her toes, her eyes already heavy and half closed as she pulled his lips into a kiss. He sighed into her, letting his hands span the width of her back and allowing her to have complete control as she cradled his jaw, pulling him down to her so she could kiss him deeply, slowly. When her breath picked up and Stiles heard the now familiar hitch in her throat, he pulled away with regret written on his face.

"We're not gonna make it further than that bed if you keep that up.''

The boy meant it as a joke but the words were said in a voice that was low and gravelly, with eyes that were dark and trained on Lydia's lips. His hands were still on her waist, his fingertips digging into her skin with just enough pressure to make her heart a little unsteady.

"You say that as if it's a bad idea," Lydia smirked, her hands twisting the ties of his hoody around her fingers.

Her expression was coy but her words were deadly and the glint in her green eyes told Stiles that the girl knew exactly what she was saying. He let out a heavy breath at her teasing and he chuckled in response to her grin. She led them backwards and he let her for a few steps, knowing that the girl in his arms liked a little control. When their knees brushed the bed, he tutted, pulling away gently and moving towards the door, laughing slightly, his head shaking 'no' at her for what was possibly the first time ever. He pointed to the bag that was still full of her clothes, sitting underneath the window that let in what little morning light was there.

"Get dressed, I'll see you in ten,'' and with one last grin, he left, leaving the girl half asleep and slightly confused.

Chapter 27: Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Text

“Meet me in the hallway, bite your lip when I say,

never have you left my mind.’’

Lydia clung to Stiles’ hand as they navigated the busy streets of Manhattan. Their fingertips brushed and twisted and tangled as boisterous crowds done their best to pull them apart, but Stiles hung on, grinning down at the girl who hadn’t stopped looking up.

Her hat was pulled down over her ears, her auburn locks tumbled out of the cream wool like fire from ice and the bobble on top wobbled adorably every time she spun around to look at something new. She hopped over icy puddles and the large grates on the sidewalk, smiling happily the entire time. The pair were still soft with sleep and Lydia had laughed at the scarf Stiles had wound around his neck until she realised how cute he looked.

They strolled past the west side of Central Park, the green expanse still fairly empty at such an early morning hour. But there was couples on park benches, feeding ducks and birds with crumbs from their breakfast leftovers, one joggers braving the biting cold. The wind left a pink flush across Lydia’s cheeks, turning Stiles’ nose a little red and she had grinned and grasped the boy by the ends of his scarf, pulling him down to her height so she could kiss his lips quickly.

They laughed and smiled into each other’s mouths and Stiles found himself pulling the girl closer out of instinct.

Lydia lit up when they came into line with the Museum of Natural History, pulling eagerly on his hand until they reached the concrete steps. They stood before the huge building, basking in what little warmth the morning sun and blue skies gave them. The boy found that whilst the girl took in the ornate carvings and scriptures etched into the stone, he took in her.

Her chin was tilted upwards, the sharp rays of light making her green eyes look too bright and almost other worldly, her Californian tan had slipped from her skin with Summer, leaving tiny freckles in its wake that dusted her nose. Her lips were a little parted and her breath froze in the air before her, making everything around her f*cking sparkle and shine.

Stiles didn’t know it was really possible to feel like this over someone, and he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with these brand new feelings. So he gripped her hand in his a little tighter, allowing the sheer joy in her own expression to lift the corner of his lips as he tugged her gently down the sidewalk and silently remembering to take her back one day.

They passed drunken students and festive couples tumbling out of closing bars and Lydia became wide eyed when a barefooted girl fell out of a club named ‘The Nemeton’, the lights inside still flashing purple and cyan. She narrowly missed barreling into Stiles and Lydia and she let out a husky ‘whoops’, before she picked up her heels from the sidewalk and left them alone again with a wolfish grin.

The sky had changed from pink and lilac to bright blue with no clouds by the time they reached Columbus circle. The roads had become busier and yellow taxi cabs flashed past them on the huge intersection. Lydia’s eyes were trained upwards again, a smile on her face as she took in the tall buildings and the statue and fountains in the middle of the circle. She let out a squeal, grinning when Stiles laughed at her excitement. The boy slung an arm over her shoulder, biting down on his lip when she easily tucked herself into his hold. She smelled like the perfume he knew so well and the spices that came from the kitchen in his own and the realization made something in his stomach twist.

He was nothing but a kite in a hurricane when it came to being with Lydia Martin. She was dangerous and wild and he was in too goddamn deep to escape - but flying around New York City with her, with ice biting his skin and her hand tangled in his - he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Her hair flew in front of him like red ribbons and he had to bite his lip from laughing because her little hands pulled him along, impatient and excited despite the fact she had no clue where she was or where she was going. But he let her, her fingers clinging to the ends of his own as they rushed over the crosswalk with the rest of the crowd.
They fell back into each other once they had reached the safety of the sidewalk, Lydia’s body leaning into Stiles’ as he threw his arm back over her shoulder. Together, the walked past more bakeries and deli’s that had just opened their doors, the smell of pies and fresh coffee pouring out from them invitingly. Bookstores older than Stiles sat still closed in the early hours, but that didn’t stop Lydia from standing with her nose pressed to the cold glass of the window, gasping over the first editions of classics that sat on display.

After another twenty minutes of pulling Lydia along the streets of New York, laughing when she gasped at the sights or dragged him to another store window, they reached their destination. It stood on the corner of another ridiculously tall building, the front of it covered in neon signs and old fashioned movie posters. A canopy protected its front door step and there was nothing but colours to be seen through the windows. A large, red sign flashed in the morning light: “Ellen’s Stardust Diner.’’

Lydia raised her brows in question, a small smile on her face as old time jazz songs crooned out from the open door. The smell of waffles and syrup and coffee and bacon followed it, a tempting mixture when Stiles was involved too. And the boy in question was merely grinning at her confusion, leading her under the little canopy until the reached the door, which he opened for her with a grandly exaggerated swoop of his arm.

“After you, Kitten.’’

_____________________________________

Lydia finished off the last of her pancakes with a satisfied hum, licking the remainder of syrup from her fork as Stiles watched her with a grin from behind his coffee. They had both shed their coats and warmer wear once they had been seated in a booth, and the boy had hair that was still messy from sleep, soft eyes and a warm smile. They had chatted happily amongst their meal, sharing bites of waffles and mini apple pies that Lydia had deemed not breakfast appropriate but had ate anyway.
They were happy in their quiet little corner, their knees knocking under the table as Stiles licked away whipped cream from his top lip, making Lydia laugh into her chocolate with whispered inappropriate jokes. The sun shone through the window they were sat at, the strength of it warming their faces and making the boys eyes that light shade of gold that Lydia adored.

After rolling her eyes at another dirty joke that was chuckled to her over the table, Lydia grinned, letting her gaze roam over the eclectic dinner, from the bright neon lights to the red leather booths and checkered floor.

She bit her lip almost shyly, looking over the table at the boy who gazed back with mischief and gold on his eyes.

“So why here?” Lydia asked, her voice soft and warm like the coffee cup she playing with, her finger carefully running round the rim of it.

“Huh?” Stiles frowned a little, enough for his brows to furrow.

He looked a little confused, a little put off and Lydia wondered if she had said something wrong. But the boy smiled slightly, his fingers instantly finding the back of his neck in a gesture she recognized as unease. Both of them fell silent, the only sounds coming from the clinks from other diners cutlery, the soft chatter among other morning goers.

“Uh, my mom,” he began, his voice low and rough with emotion, “my mom brought me here a lot.”

The conversation turned quiet and soft, a little warm and edged with sadness - just like Stiles’ eyes. Lydia nodded slightly at the mention of the woman Stiles never really spoke about. There was an absence of a mother when he spoke about home and his dad, and the girl was never brave enough to ask or inquire. She knew from conversations with Scott that Stiles’ mom had passed when he was younger, a few years ago.

“She had a tumor, you know?’’ Stiles explained, inspecting the dregs of coffee on his mug, “up here.’’ He tapped his head and lifted his chin to look at her.

Lydia smiled gently, encouraging him to talk with hands that held his and eyes that threatened to fill with water.

“I was fifteen. It was a few weeks before Christmas. Around this time,’’ he nodded to himself, as if confirming the information he was telling her.

“I did stupid things with stupid friends. Caused my dad too much grief, stole too much whiskey from his office,’’ Stiles grimaced at the memory, “Scott and Kira would find me and drag me home every other night, sober me up and made sure I didn’t fail every class I took.’’

Stiles sniffed, coughed and cleared his throat before he brought his eyes back up to meet the girls. He returned the smile Lydia gave him, took her hand that she offered across the table. He linked their fingers together, playing with her smaller ones between his own as they let the comfortable silence wash over them for a few minutes.
Lydia did pry any further, did push any questions on him. She knew a little about Stiles’ past from Scott and Kira, how he had missed weeks of school after his mother passed, sitting at home and comforting his father as they shared their grief together. How after the first Christmas without her, he had went off the rails. Drinking, smoking, crawling to school the next day in the same clothes and smelling of weed and beer and a different girl's perfume. It had taken years to pass before the “holiday tradition” of Stiles getting wasted finally came to an end.

They finished their coffees in mostly silence, their fingers still twisted together on top of the table. The diner became busier as the morning grew into early afternoon and the streets outside held growing crowds of New Yorkers. The mood had changed, just a little, to something deeper, heavier, tinged with nostalgia and sadness. There was also something lurking at the back of Lydia’s mind, pulling at her chest, sitting heavily and itching at her with worry.

_____________________________________

Stiles’ eyes were an unbearable shade of gold across the table. The space was crowded, her elbows bumping into Allison’s as the brunette reached for the steaming platter of roast potatoes in the middle of the table. Scott and his mother, Melissa - not Miss McCall as the woman had told her early with a warm hug - sat at around her, opposite Stiles’ father at the head of the table with a smile and a glass of wine raised in a toast. It was a room filled with chatter and laughter and the smell of spices and glazed ham.
Stiles was quiet in comparison, staring from his still full plate back to Lydia with a small, sad smile on his lips. He shrugged at her looks, dismissed her silent questions, moved his foot from her own under the table.

Scott dipped his own head at her questioning gaze, trying to avoid how his own girlfriend frowned at him too. Stiles was worrying his lip between his teeth, biting at them in a way that was unfamiliar to Lydia. There was no teasing in his eyes, no mischief or warmth coming from the way he slouched in his chair. And when his cell beeped with a new text, he ignored his father’s annoyed tut, opening it and rubbing a hand over his forehead as if he was tired with the world. Thanksgiving went on around them, full of pumpkin pies and turkey and people’s laughter. But it seemed to skip over Stiles, casting him in his own little dark shadow that licked coldness at Lydia’s toes.

After Stiles spent the text few seconds typing out a text furiously, all Lydia managed to see was a name on the screen. A text message from someone called “Raeken.’’

When the clock turned to ten pm, and dinner and clean up duties were officially over, the four friends traipsed out of the house, yelling their goodbyes to the two parents that sat awfully close on the couch, before making their way to the Yukimura residence.

They managed to walk five blocks down, their hands shoved deep in their coat pockets, hats pulled down past their ears until Stiles finally spoke. His voice was dry and a little hoarse, filled with enough emotion that Lydia knew something was wrong.

But when he told them that he’d catch up, he was just going to pick something up from an old friend, he didn’t look at Lydia. In fact, he didn’t really meet Scott’s eyes either - and the other boy swore under his breath before telling Stiles:

“Don’t f*cking do this man.’’

But Stiles kicked at a leaf on the sidewalk, chewing on his lip as his eyes turned a little watery, red around the edges. He sniffed, looking straight ahead and told the three of them he’d see them at Kira’s in half an hour. And then he left.

_____________________________________

Lydia sat in Kira's bedroom with Allison by her side and her heart in her throat. Despite her warped relationship with Jackson, she hadn't really known true dread until then, the sensation that hung over you like a nightmare, an ache that settled over your entire body. Some of it was due to Stiles being drunk and upset, a badly mixed potion of emotion and alcoholic chemicals. She was worried and it showed in the bite marks on her lip, the slight metallic taste on her tongue. She sat for hours, watching her friends watch her, looking out the window at the groups that clambered to and from bars and clubs, bottles in their hands and significant others on their lips, under their arms.

There was also the sickening thought that lurked at the back of her head, growing bigger and coming closer - bringing doubt and insecurity and worry with it. Her blood pumped, her head spun, her throat went dry and her stomach sunk at the very real, very possible chance of Stiles ending up in another girl's bed that night. ‘Cause the boy didn’t turn up, and the boy didn’t go home.

When Lydia woke up, her cheek was pressed against Kira’s denim covered thigh, Allison stretched outside her with her jumper rucked up against her ribs. The three of them were spread out on Kira’s bed, fully clothed and a tangle of limbs that had fallen asleep on top of the covers. Pillow creases marked their faces, lined their cheeks, and Lydia stretched herself or slowly, confusion and sleep blurring her eyes and thoughts until she spotted her cell phone lying on the floor by the window.

Everything came flooding back to her, slamming into her like a sixteen wheeler until the breath knocked out of her chest.

She scrambled out of bed in an ungrateful fashion, the same nauseous feeling she harboured in her stomach last night coming back to the surface. Her fingers shook when she picked up her phone, the battery flashing in warning.

Six missed calls from Scott, one voicemail and two texts, the last at twenty to five in the morning. She checked the time, swearing when she saw it was almost eleven am.

The voicemail held nothing but static noise, thumping music and garbled conversations. She picked up someone shouting, Stiles name being called and a muffled curse before the line went silent and only dead air crackled back at her.

The two texts were more positive, held more information in what little words Scott had sent.

The first was at just after three am:

“At the bar, found him. Don't worry.”

The next was nearing five in the morning and was sent long after the girls had fallen asleep:

“Got him home, his dad's not back from work yet so I'm staying with him.”

Lydia breathed out a sigh of relief, ignoring the ache in her chest that signified all of the doubts and panic in her thoughts. She knew nothing of what happened last night, nothing of what Stiles had gotten up to. Only that this Theo was bad news and Kira hated him and Scott didn't trust him.

She didn't eat breakfast with the girls, politely declining the omelette that Mr. Yukimura offered her. Lydia sat in silence instead, sipping the coffee that was far too hot and tasted too bitter on her tour, ignoring the looks of worry that her friends shared.

They heard from the boys after the had put their dishes in the sink, Allison's phone buzzing with an incoming call from Scott. Lydia tensed and relaxed in relief, reminding how her heart stung and her own cell remained silent and without any texts.

The brunette had nodded at whatever the boy had told her, sneaking glances at Lydia that were full of concern. She hung up with a sigh and a smile that was stretched too tight.

“Ready to get back? Scott said he's got your stuff in the car, he'll be here in ten minutes.”

Lydia nodded, unable to return the smile as she thought how glad she was that she had packed yesterday afternoon, prepared and organised as always. She just wanted to go home. To see Stiles. To get some answers.

“Wait,” Lydia frowned, “Scotts driving?”

Allison slapped her cell against her palm and bit down on her lip before answering. Kira had turned away, busying herself with empty dishes and half drunk coffee. Ally shrugged half heartedly, her attempts to feign nonchalance not working well.

“Uh, yeah, I think Stiles might be a bit too tired to drive.”

“Tired?” Lydia rose her eyebrows, “you mean too hungover?” Sickness stirred in her stomach and acid rose to her chest.

From the sink, Kira scoffed, “more like still too drunk. Stiles doesn't half ass things.”

Immediately, the older girl tensed, scrunching her nose in annoyance at her own words as she turned to her friends with soap suds clinging to her arms.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean-” Kira started but Lydia shook her head and smiled sadly.

“It's fine.”

“No, Lydia, I didn't mean, he would have done- it's totally okay, we all know how much he likes you and-”

“Kira it's fine. Honestly.”

But it wasn't fine and fifteen minutes later a car horn blared from outside. The girls said their goodbyes to Kira, hugging her and making her promise that she would also have a safe trip back to campus when she left tomorrow morning. She agreed with a nod and another fierce hug when she gathered both girls in her tiny arms, making them swear to text her if they needed her.

They made their way to the door in silence and Lydia was sure she was going to be sick with the nerves and anxiety that had made itself at home in her stomach. Her skin prickled and everything felt heavy and uncomfortable.

The sight of the Jeep at the curb did little to soothe it and the shape of a boy in the passenger seat only made her heart pick up in it’s frantic pace. Scott tried to placate her with a smile but it was thin lined and a little grim, just like Allison’s had been when she had hung up the phone. The brunette stood by her boyfrend, helping him pile their bags back into the trunk, both of them with their heads down.
Lydia walked over to the front of the Jeep, her hand clutching the door handle as she opened the passenger side. She was greeted with a grunt and the overwhelming smell of smoke and weed and alcohol, and the girl winced as a sunglass wearing Stiles groaned at her.

He was alive. He still wore last night's clothes and he had dried blood coating his knuckles, but he was alive. His hair was a mess, his skin was sallow and he had hidden his eyes behind Ray-Bans that she hadn’t seen since the first Folklore class of the semester.

He didn’t speak and neither did she.

Chapter 28: Chapter Twenty Eight

Chapter Text

“As soon as I love her, it’s been too long.
And I really love breaking her heart.’’

He had a pain in his chest that felt like a second heartbeat. It thumped, constant and steady, in his chest, another thrumming vessel inside of him that ached. It sped up when he saw his dad alone in their kitchen, cooking the casserole from a recipe tucked into an old cookbook, scrawled writing with loops and swirls, written on a slip of old, yellowed paper.
It stung when he saw the neon lights in the distance, the striped canopy of the diner, the pitying, grief stricken look from the elderly waitress who used to watch his mother cut up his pancakes for him. It dulled slightly when Lydia smiled at him from across the table, how it hurt a little less when she took his hand. But then the grief would cut him open once more when he realised the two women in his life would never meet.

And despite the lights that Allison had helped his father string along the walls, the living room seemed darker and the smiles that Lydia gave him over the dinner table seemed distorted and too far away. The smell of pumpkin pie made his throat feel too tight and there was an empty chair sitting by the fireplace that nobody went near. It sat alone and Stiles felt cold, the candles in the middle of the centrepiece flickering aimlessly and only creating darker shadows on the walls around him.

He ignored the heavy, tired sighs from the father, avoided the looks that Scott pressed his way. He ignored Lydia the most of all and he f*cking hated himself for it. But his head was sore and his wine tasted like vinegar and sat heavy in his chest. Then his phone lit up with a text from the past and a new kind of ache settled deep within him. The devil himself sent messages full of taunts and persuasion, promising drinks and weed and girls and a night just like he used to have.
Theo Raeken was good at what he did, and what he did was push Stiles to his limits and just manage to hold on to him before he flung himself off of the edge. They were friends in a way - in a way that friends didn’t let friends drink themselves to death… but they had fun watching them try.

The boy bombarded his cell with text after text, cajoling and pushing and pressing and aiming for the spot that was sore. So Stiles relented and told Theo he wanted him to help him forget.
Outside, where it was as cold as he actually felt, he told his friends - he told the girl he brought home to spend time with - that he had something to do, somewhere to be. And he ignored his best friend again and again, pretended not to see the hurt and confusion flash across Lydia’s pretty face, and well, then he walked away.

It was a cold, dark f*cking night and Stiles wanted to forget how it felt to know this holiday as the last few days he seen his mother smile. So he took a long drag and looked up at the sky, cursing out the goddamn city that didn’t show him any stars. He ignored Theo as he stood and smirked and he swallowed the heavy lump that sat tight in his throat. And when the joint was nothing but ashes on the ground and the smell of the sweet smoke clung to everything he wore, he followed the other boy into the building that shook with a heavy bassline.

Stiles pushed away, pulled away, stumbled from the bar. He left behind a girl that cursed him out and a tall glass filled with liquid that looked like gold. There was too many people and his sight blurred around the edges and Stiles was sure the whole f*cking world was turned on its side. But no one else seemed to care. He watched as everything turned into slow motion and walking suddenly felt like moving under water. He saw Theo in the corner, tucked into a booth with too many people he didn’t know. There was empty bottles on the table, pills on tongues, lips pushed together.

Theo smirked and beckoned the boy with a curled finger and Stiles seemed to float over the hoards of dancers against his own will. His feet felt heavy and his cell was vibrating in his back pocket but there was a bag full of little lilac pills sitting in the palm of a pretty blonde girls hand and where the f*ck was he?

There was smoke in his lungs and pretty pink lights in his eyes and someone’s lips on his neck but all Stiles could feel was the edge of the table underneath his white knuckle grip and suddenly everything was too much at once. He heard Theo’s laughter as he lurched from the table, a slight sheen of sweat covering his face. His second heartbeat had multiplied throughout the night and now it was like there was twenty. All of them stuttered out one name and it f*cking hurt.

There were girls and boys, and girls and girls all pressed up against walls and old music posters, lining the bricks in an endless line of lust, vodka and hormones. Stiles reached the bathroom and was assaulted to the sounds of needy, high pitched moans coming from one of the stalls and a wide eyed man bent over the sink with a little white line of powder on his fist.
Stiles swayed, raking a hand through his damp hair as he reached the mirrors that were cracked and broken and some, tiny, sober part of him chuckled at the irony.

He was wrecked and ruined, his hair messier than ever as he clutched at the edge of the sink, the ceramic cold under his touch. His eyes were darker than normal, hidden under thick sooty lashes that blinked lazily back at him. The tiles made the music outside bounce around his head, leaking taps dripped in accompaniment and when he left the bathroom, the blonde girl was waiting outside, bubblegum pink lips curled into a smile.

She crowded him as he backed against the wall, old pins from music posters digging into his spine. He was uncomfortable and too warm, disorientated and surrounded by her overly sweet perfume. Her lips left stains on his shirt collar, marks on his neck, his cheek. And when she dragged her mouth to push at the corner of his, the boy stumbled back, grimacing rudely as he let out a low groan of disapproval.

His phone was still buzzing and the girl seemed to be yelling at him, her face pulled into a picture of annoyance. Her mouth formed words but Stiles couldn't hear them, instead, staring at the smudged pink marks that etched her chin. He swiped at his mouth, his face, pulled at the collar of his shirt and stumbled away down a dark corridor.

Theo was standing in the middle of the dancefloor, pressed between two girls who had their hands inside his shirt and little pink pills on their tongues. They gestured to Stiles, curling their fingers in a beckon that called to him through the throngs of people. They wore smirks and had lips that shone with vodka under the neon lights and Stiles thought they were the prettiest evil he had ever f*cking seen.
Then he remembered long strawberry curls and lips that were sharp and soft and tasted like all the things he loved. He craved a girl he could tuck under his chin and he ached for a girl that would press herself into his back when they slept. He groaned again, to himself, low and unheard above the music.

So he stumbled and tripped his way through the crowd, away from Theo and towards the bar instead. He gestured to the barman between other waving hands as he ignored impatient elbows to the ribs. And when it was his turn to be served, the boy asked for more vodka, holding up three fingers and smiling to himself when the shot glasses arrived in front of him. He lifted the glasses from the sticky counter and grimaced when the burn coated the back of his throat. It did nothing to satisfy the cold feeling that sat in his chest. When he was finished with his second shot, someone tugged on his elbow, a strong hand curling around his bicep.

“Piss off, Scott.’’

_____________________________________

Together, the two boys left the club behind, one swearing into the night air as the other staggered slightly ahead of him. Stiles stumbled and cursed as his breath left clouds of frost trailing behind him, the cold stinging his lips and making his skin erupt in goosebumps. His shoes were damp from the left over snow and his tongue still tasted like vodka and bourbon. He was pissed, in more ways than one and he wanted nothing more than to go home, climb into bed and hope to f*cking lord that Lydia would be there to crawl in beside him. He must have muttered these words, to some effect, out loud, ‘cause a second later Scott spoke up from behind him.

“She’s not there man, she’s at Kira’s with Allison.’’

Scott stuffed his hands in his jacket pocket, frowning slightly as his best friend tumbled into a wall once more, the old brick buildings make his bare arms red and raw. But they matched his eyes and Stiles didn’t care about the scrapes and pain. But when Scott’s words registered within his brain, he let out a rough grunt before kicking at an empty can.

“Jus’ wan’ Lydia.’’

Scott sighed, tired and too cold, and he swiped a hand over his face before answering his friend with soft, placating words.

“I know, man.’’

Stiles slowed, his movements less agitated and his anger seeped out of him like a deflated balloon. Whether he didn’t care anymore - or he simply forgot that Scott dragged him out of the club by the back of his shirt - he bumped shoulders with his friend, both boys standing at the same height as the made their way home. Stiles sighed again, a long, low breath that turned into another grumble. He frowned, pouting almost childish as he stumbled into the other boy.

“Nah, Scotty, need Kitten,’’ he rubbed at his eyes, his body too tired and drunk to process walking and talking at once, “why’s she, why did she go?’’

“She’s not gone, she’s at Kira’s, just for toni-’’

Scott’s cell read four fifty six am before it flashed red and beeped at him angrily, the battery dying. He was glad he managed to text Allison and Lydia, letting them both know Stiles and him were safe. Despite the late hour, there had been only a reply from his girlfriend before she had fallen asleep and the boy could only hope, for his best friend's sake, that Lydia was sleeping too - and not ignoring news about Stiles.

“Scotty, does she hate me?’’

“Dude, no-’’

“I f*cked up, ‘ucked up so bad man.’’

_____________________________________

Stiles stood at the doorway of the spare room, staring blankly at the open suitcase on the floor that belonged to Lydia. But the bed beside it was made up neatly and completely empty. Scott was lingering behind him and he felt a gentle hand tug on his shoulder, a weak attempt to pull him into his own room. But Stiles grunted and leant against the doorframe, his body heavy, his head aching and his chest too tight. It seemed like hours later, when he was numb and his feet were sodden and frozen with the cold, that he wandered down the hallway and stumbled into the bathroom.

He tripped into the cold room, the tiles making his breath sound too loud and too harsh. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if he’d just crossed the line between heaven and hell. The floor was too hard on his knees and his throat burned as he threw up the contents of his adventures through New York. It tasted like acid and it killed his lungs but nothing dulled the pain when he finally stopped and looked at himself in the mirror.
He scrunched up his features in disgust, wiping roughly at the pink lipstick that marked his neck and shirt collar. Stiles’ usually warm eyes were dull and he didn’t really see himself as he looked into his reflection. Ignoring Scott outside the door, he stripped off, wrenching his shirt over his head before his jeans fell to the floor. His belt buckle clattered angrily and loose change rolled in every direction. The boy slid his dead cell onto the countertop and turned on the shower, clambering into the stall and hissing as the hot water hit his chilled skin.

He braced himself against the shower wall, his hands supporting his weight as Stiles allowed the water to roll down his neck and back, warming his skin and wiping away the neon lights and smell of smoke. Eyes closed and forehead against the cold tiles, he took in deep breaths, the smell of whiskey in the humid air and the burn of it on his tongue.
Stiles remembered lights and the ashes of a cigarette on his jeans, the sweet smell of a joint in the air. Girls, Theo, girls. Dirty club toilets and more girls. Lipstick and pink and lips on his skin. His stomach churned and rolled and he reared back with a muttered f*ck and smashed his fist into the tiles, leaving a crack and blood behind.

The night was on lips and he hated the taste. The scarlet blood beaded across his knuckles and mixed with the hot water that swirled down the drain, doing nothing to dull the pain in his head and the throbbing in his fist.

He remembered the water going cold and the shower shutting off, his bare feet barely catching purchase on the cool tiles. His hair dripped and his blood fell and his jeans stuck to his damp skin as he pulled them back on. Scott was outside the door, his face pulled tight with worry and his lips moving quick as he spoke into his cell. Stiles was barely aware of another voice coming from the earpiece, one talking fast and laced with an English accent.

“f*ckin’ Isaac,’’ Stiles grunted, walking past Scott with a sloppy stumble, his hands trailing against the walls of the hallway as he eventually made it to his room.

His sheets smelled like Lydia and his pillow was full of her perfume and he made a noise of protest as Scott threw his duvet over him. But he pulled it tighter anyway, mumbling a grudging ‘thank you’ as his friend sighed and dropped into the old, worn armchair by his desk.
They held eye contact for a few seconds, both too stubborn to look away first. Scott raised an unimpressed brow, shaking a box of painkillers tauntingly. Stiles scoffed and finally flicked his gaze to the ceiling, scowling at how the morning light was starting to fill the room. Scott was already drifting off, a limp shadow in the corner of the room, snoring softly with his cell still in his hand.

His head swam as he attempted to look around the room for his charger, mumbling under his breath as he tripped over odd shoes and Scott’s feet. He moaned, pulling at loose wires that peeked out from piles of clothes, grunting when they turned out to be useless.
All he wanted was to talk to Lydia, to tell her that he was sorry. He didn’t mean it, he wish he hadn’t left. So he slumped to the floor, leaning his bare back against the wall, flinching at the cold that radiated from it. He closed his eyes, tilting his head back until it hit the wall, the beginning of a sunrise warming his face, turning his skin from sallow to gold.

There was stupid voices in his head, Isaac, telling him he was “a f*cking goner’’, after watching him and Lydia curl up on the sofa together with their textbooks, her feet in his lap and his and wrapped around her ankle. Scott, whispering to him in the library weeks ago, asking if this was it? “Is he serious about this girl?’’ Then there was the other girls, texts and remarks in his ear, low and snide behind bookshelves and bars: is he really ready to settle down? Does he not remember what fun he can have without her?
Then there was Theo, mere hours before, as Scott let him from the club. “You’re a mess, Stilinski.’’

And Allison. The night she met him, all the way back in August in his own kitchen. Lydia was still with Jackson, and they had only exchanged a few sharp words and smiles but when Lydia left, making her way home alone, Stiles had followed immediately.
And Allison had caught him by the elbow as he tried to sneak out the front door, leaving a blonde girl and a disgruntled Malia in his wake. The brunette had looked him up and down, one hand of hers still intertwined with Scotts. She had smiled when she stood on her toes, whispering into his ear.

“When she finally gives in and everything works out, she’ll fall for you, hard.’’ Stiles had been speechless and more than a little confused but the girl tightened her grip on his arm and looked him in the eye with a serious and steady gaze. “Make sure you catch her,’’ she continued, “or I’ll make you wear your balls as earrings.’’

When he woke up, the sun was too bright and the first shirt he grabbed happened to be the same one he wore the night before. But his head had it’s own heartbeat and it hurt to move so he pulled it on, grimacing at the smell of smoke that clung to it and despite his shower a few hours before, he was sure the scent was ingrained in his skin, tequila spilling from his pores.
His hand ached and his room was empty, voices coming from the hallway outside. The sounds were distorted and his vision was hazy, blurred with the little sleep he had and the alcohol that still coursed through his system. When he tripped over the phone charger that he couldn’t find hours before, Stiles decided he was probably still drunk.

His dad was in the living room, still in his uniform and with a cup of coffee in his hand. The older Stilinski looked sad, disappointed and a little tired. Scott sat with him, arms crossed and bags under his eyes and when Stiles walked into the room, with soft footsteps and a hand to his head, the two men looked up silently, expressions sombre.

His father was the first to move, to speak. He stood from his armchair with a grimace, his back sore from being on duty all night. But he walked to his son, tutting at his pale skin, cracked knuckles, before enveloping him in a hug that still smelled like Thanksgiving spices. Stiles sniffed, his whole body softening as he leant into his father’s embrace and he clutched at the back of his shirt as he hid his face in the other man’s neck - both father and son silently acknowledging the month, the date, the day, that was forever stuck in their hearts.

Scott stood back, silent and sombre but not at all awkward as he watched the exchange with a heavy heart and the boy even managed to crack a slither of a smile when the Chief pulled back and held his son at arms length, tutting once more at his appearance before cuffing him over the head.

“You’re an idiot, boy.’’

_____________________________________

TWO WEEKS LATER

“Stiles?”

Lydia stood in the middle of his room, staring at the lump on the bed that was the boy. She hated the way her voice sounded weak, too quiet.

“Stiles.”

His name was a demand that time, not a question. And it fell from her lips with more authority and it didn't shake her voice like before. Her shoes echoed on the floorboards as she crossed the small space from his desk to his bed and she toed off her boots in her wake.

The mattress dipped under her slight weight and it was only then that the boy stirred. He wore jeans and nothing else, old ones that were faded and soft and looked like they were creased from hours of lying down. The band of his white Calvin Kleins peeked out from underneath, contrasting with his skin and matching his sheets in a way that Lydia found annoyingly appealing.

There was an empty bottle of bourbon on his bedside, a tipped over glass to match, a packet of unopened cigarettes on the floor. The girl looked for discarded bras, lace thongs, forgotten underwear on the floor - but there was none that she could find.

Lydia crawled up his bed, ignoring how he continued to ignore her. She pushed at his bare back, his skin still unfairly olive toned despite the harsh winter that was stirring outside. His muscles shifted in retaliation and then tensed under her touch, his body reacting to her as it always did and that little sense of triumph made Lydia smile for the first time in weeks.

“Stiles.”

She lay down despite his grunt of protest, ignoring how his skin smelled of whiskey and half of his pillows were on the floor. The girl nudged at his arm, the one that was slung over his head. When he didn't react, Lydia tucked herself under it anyway, her hair tickling his bare skin and making him flinch. He swore into the pillow he had buried his face in, his voice coming out rough and rasping, so familiar yet so far detached from the usual scenarios she heard it in. Lydia wasn't sure if its harshness was aimed at her or simply due to the fact he probably hadn't spoken in days.

But she tried her best to ignore it to, refusing to believe he could point such venom at her. She lay still for several, long minutes, testing the waters - hoping and praying that he didn't push her away. He didn't. So she lay under the cave he had made for them and it was too warm and Stiles’ arm was uncomfortably heavy on her neck. His skin stuck to hers and her hair was in the way and he still wasn't facing her but she could hear the steady huff of his breath on the mattress and Lydia knew he was awake.

She tucked herself into him, her lips dangerously close to the skin on his neck and her own breath fell heavy and hot there. The boy moved, just slightly, against her and she was sure she heard him sigh.

“Stiles, you need to stop this.”

Lydia's voice was warm and quiet, calm and strong. She held vindication in her words, hurt over being pushed away, pushed out. She had spent the last week back at school ignored and forgotten about, watching with anger and confusion as Stiles walked into Professor Hale's class late, taking an empty chair a few rows behind her.

He always seemed to be out when her and Allison spent nights watching movies with Scott and Isaac, gone when she knocked on his bedroom door hoping to get answers. Her texts went unanswered and her calls went to voicemail. Lydia would have given up by now if it wasn’t for the fact that Scott had told her he was ignoring everyone. But there was doubt there, a tugging in her chest, an ache in her stomach that seemed to start at her f*cking spine, one that reminded her of all the girls Stiles had been with before her - and how many after?

She leaned in closer, her skin touching his for the first time in weeks. She relished it, taking it in, leaning her forehead against his shoulder blade and holding her breath as she waited for him to pull away. He didn’t.

So she spoke, quietly, softly but so full of conviction. Her words fell onto his skin, her lips brushing his spine every time she breathed out a word. Stiles was quiet and still beside her, his hands tucked under his pillow but f*cking vibrating with the need to touch her. And the girl continued speaking, her own little hands curled against his back, her pinky stroking over a cluster of freckles he knew was there ‘cause she used to kiss them every morning she woke up beside him. He held his breath and it stung.

“-and I know what time of year it is, and what it means for you Stiles, but please don’t shut me out-’’

He could smell her perfume, ever so slightly, floating over his shoulder and reminding him of everything he tried to forget.

“-Scott explained everything. All the things you told him before we drove home-’’

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut and hoped she would stop talking. ‘Cause the words she spoke were getting closer to the truth and she didn’t sound angry anymore, not like last week when she had yelled at him in his kitchen before he had yanked up his hood and stormed out.

“-you’re not a f*ck up Stiles, you’re not. So please don’t try to sabotage this… not when it could have been so good… when it was so good-’’

He sniffed, pushing his face into the pillow and trying not to react to the way Lydia was shuffling closer, fitting her legs along his.

“-but f*ck, maybe the only thing we’re good at is breaking each others hearts.’’

Her final words ended on a little sniff, her voice sounding wet and unsure. Then Lydia crawled out from underneath him, letting the bitter winter air into the duvet cave they had created. It was silent for a few beats and Stiles was sure blood was pumping through his body too quickly and thoughts rushed around his head just as fast. But before he could say anything, the door opened and clicked softly behind Lydia as she left.

Chapter 29: Chapter Twenty Nine

Chapter Text

“The perfect words never crossed my mind,
‘cause there was nothing in there but you.’’

The sound of his bedroom door closing on him seemed to echo around the quiet space for eternity. He heard it from under the pillow, it played on loop in his head. He would have heard it from f*cking space. He heard Isaac call out to the girl, he heard Isaac shout her name as the front door opened and slammed shut seconds later. He swore down dead he could hear his f*cking heart crack and split down the middle, landing in his ribcage with a clatter.

But Stiles didn’t move.

You’re an idiot, you’re an idiot, you’re a f*cking idiot.

He heard the mantra in his head, a harsh prayer to himself, told to him by his friends, his father, from higher powers above. Stiles believed every one of them. And it made him weak, he cut himself down, shut himself off and hid under his blankets like a child in trouble, like a kid scared of the big, bad world outside.
‘Cause the world was f*cking harsh, and Stiles had learned that years before when it took his mother from him, when it left him out on the streets in the early morning hours, cold and drunk and sitting on a stairwell with a bottle of cheap vodka and bad friends. But the sound of his bedroom door shutting was still there, a horrible reminder of the the girl that had left and he couldn’t f*cking shift it. It lingered, just like her perfume on his pillow, swimming in the air and pushing its way under the pillow he hid behind.

An hour later, it was still there. The click of the door, her perfume on his sheets and the ghost of her fingers on his skin. Stiles’ neck prickled, too hot and uncomfortable despite the fact no one was beside him. But he could feel her slow, even breaths, the slight touch of her lips on his shoulder as she spoke. He still heard the sad sound of her voice and no matter how much he squeezed his eyes shut, he couldn’t will his body to switch off, to just fall asleep. The boy didn’t care if it was three in the afternoon, he didn’t care that he’d slept through his morning lecture - it was just one more place he didn’t have to see Lydia.

‘Cause that hurt. A lot.

The first time after New York was goddamn awful. He had came to class deliberately late, mumbling apologetically to Professor Hale with his hood over his messy hair and bags under his eyes. He had planned to take the easy route, sliding into the back row, hopefully unseen.
But the Professor had drawn the attention of the entire class to his arrival, sixty pairs of eyes staring up the auditorium at him. He should have been embarrassed, made to feel uneasy. But out of those sixty sets of eyes on him, he found only one and they f*cking broke him. Lydia had sat in her usual seat, the one beside her empty and waiting for him. But he was already standing on the top step, watching her with soft, guilty eyes and one foot in the back row.
She had looked upset and confused and pissed, looking back at him over her shoulder with eyes that were too big and too green and too pretty. She had tucked her bottom lip into her mouth, her pen twirling in her hand. One last look told the boy that she was done, ‘cause she had nodded shortly and turned back into her seat, writing out notes like he hadn’t even came into the room.

After that, Stiles had told himself it would get easier. Scott had spoken to him countless times, angry and confused and just as frustrated as Lydia. ‘Cause why the f*ck would he think ignoring her would make everything better?

“I f*cked up Scotty, big time. It’s too late to go back and I’m never letting myself hurt that girl again - she’s too good for that. For me.’’

“You’re hurting her by not talking to her you asshole.’’

“Yeah, dude, you screwed up, okay? But for f*ck sake Stiles, you didn’t cheat on her, you didn’t

Isaac had made a few jokes about going after Lydia himself, but when Stiles would only grit his teeth and grab another beer from their fridge, he stopped. Instead he spent a lot of time making sure Lydia was actually okay and chucking bottles of water into Stiles’ room, taking the other boys grunt as a thanks when they landed on his bed.

He answered Kira’s daily texts, confirming that yes, he was still alive, and no, he hadn’t spoken to Lydia. After the first week of being back on campus had passed, Kira had stormed the boys apartment one evening, declaring that she was no longer colour coordinating Stiles and Lydia’s hypothetical future wedding and that he was a sh*thead. Stiles had smiled humorlessly and tipped the bottle of beer he held in a mock salute.

He knew he was an asshole, he didn’t need his friends to remind him.

Allison, however, thought differently. Lydia had eventually grown to ignore him, leaving him in peace until he maybe decided to come out of the self depreciative world he'd moved to. Her best friend was a hell hound, a stone cold villain in his new world who actively hunted him down at every opportunity.

He tried his best to avoid the brunette but she would send him scathing looks from across the apartment, pointed states from where she was tucked cutely under Scott's arm. She would trap in the quiet of the kitchen, glaring until Stiles would snap.

“What? What now, Ally? What d’you wanna say?”

“I don't understand you Stiles.” She clucked her tongue, “What's your plan here? What're you actually trying to achieve?”

He ignored her. Gulped back another beer.

“She's f*cking crazy about you. And I know you feel the same about her. So drop the act, you're not the brooding hero in a YA novel.”

He drained his bottle.

“Go get your girl back before I pin your balls on my bedroom wall. And don't f*ck up again, I won't let you.”

After that, he made sure he got to class first, slunk down low at the back with his hood over his eyes and he would watch Lydia walk past him to her usual seat, never sparing him a glance - well, at least when he wasn’t looking at her.

He avoided Allison like the plague, only grunting at his best friend in a greeting when his girlfriend was over at their apartment. He spent most of his time in his bedroom, staring at his ceiling or his bedsheets. Every now and then, he would call home, speaking to his dad in a tired voice, listening to his father tell him all was not lost, to get out of bed. He would hum in agreement, trying his best to believe the advice his dad gave him. He ate cold pizza, slept too much, wrote his essays in scrawled handwriting that his professors found hard to read. The rest of the time, he read through the unanswered texts from Lydia on his phone.

Wed 2nd Dec 19.54pm
Why won’t you just talk to me?

Wed 2nd Dec 21.18pm
What happened in NY Stiles?

Wed 2nd Dec 11.21pm

Did you take someone home? Is that it?

Fri 4th Dec 16.11pm

You’re an asshole Stiles Stilinski.

Fri 12th Dec 03.34am

I hate you and I miss you. You stupid f*cking boy.

His heart throbbed every time he read the last one, his eyes chasing the words on the phone like he could catch them, make them go away or fix them. He ran his thumb over screen, pausing over the keyboard. He typed, slowly, methodically, letter by letter.

I’m sorry. I miss you. I’m an idiot. I lov-

Stiles groaned, screwing his eyes shut and hiding his face in the crook of his arm. His cell hung limply from his hand, dangerously close to falling to the floor. The tap, tap, tap echoed through the room as he deleted each letter, each word, one at a time.

“You’re a f*cking idiot,’’ he told himself.

So he crawled from bed, wincing at his sore muscles, the ache in his body and the sour taste on his tongue. He mumbled as he kicked textbooks and ratty converse with his bare feet, shuffling across the floorboards before yanking his curtains back and hissing at the sun and everything happy outside.

He stretched, his sweats hanging low on his hips and the lack of covers letting the cold December air wash over his naked chest. Stiles rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, letting it fall and run down to rub at the nape of his neck. He stared at the phone still in his hand, cursing quietly before letting it clatter down onto his desk.

And everything was heavy. His head, his eyes, his heart, the whole world. Stiles had the solar system on his shoulders but it felt like the stars were missing from it. So when he picked up his cell once more and scrolled through his contacts until he hit ‘Kitten’, he wasn’t surprised when everything felt a little darker at the sound of her voicemail filling the room. He wasn’t surprised at the frustration and disappoint he felt either, so when his cell was swiped from the table top with an angry hand, crashing on the wall and shattering the screen, well he expected it.

‘Cause it had been two weeks and three days since he had been anywhere near Lydia and when the girl herself marched into his room and clambered into bed with him, he didn’t even turn to look at her, never mind let his hands wander to places he ached to touch again. The clock on his bedside table told him it had been one hour and eleven minutes since she’d left. And he could still f*cking smell her perfume in the air. He swore again.

Stiles missed her eyes. Her laugh. Her hair. How she wore jumpers that were too damn big and impossible to get off of her body. How she would glare at him in class when he tried to distract her. How she snored, the tiniest of noises, when she slept curled beside him like the namesake he had given her. He missed how her eyes flashed when he called her Kitten, how her lips felt tucked between his. He missed how it was before he f*cked it up.

“Stiles? Hey, Stiles? Can you just- Stiles?’’

He had sighed, shutting the boot of the jeep with a slam, momentarily closing his eyes and steeling himself before turning and facing the source of the voice.

Lydia stood waiting, the campus behind her and her arms round her body as she shielded herself from the beginning of the cold December was bringing. A bitter wind picked and lifted up strands of her hair, making them play around her face that held so much concern.

He was still tired, hardly sleeping on the drive home but only pretending to. The bags under his eyes were dark like his mood, his mouth still tasting like a bar and the skin on his neck feeling dirty from the pair of lips that found him the night before. Scott had driven the entire way, Lydia and Allison silent and tense in the seats behind them.
His eyes had been closed but he could feel her, sense her, something, anything. Stiles knew it sounded stupid, but he could and he f*cking ached with the need to try and talk to her, to reach out. Every bone in his stupid body was filled with the colossal pull her body brought out in his. He wanted to let one hand fall behind his chair, open and warm and hopeful, waiting for Lydia to place her own in it. If he’d been brave enough to do it, it would have taken a force from above to make him let go of the girl.

But he wasn’t brave and he was deathly hungover and feeling like sh*t on the bottom of someone’s shoe (Allison’s shoe judging by the way she stared at him the entire way home). Lydia was angry, silently raging up a storm behind him with quiet sighs and clipped replies to their friends soft conversations. He heard her fidgeting, pulling at her seatbelt and rearranging herself in the seat with agitated grumbles. But he still didn’t even turn around to smile.

Back at college, on the cold and eerily empty campus, it was worse. ‘Cause Scott had grabbed their bags and his enraged girlfriend and fled without a word, leaving Stiles with the jeep, the wind and Lydia. Her head was tilted to the side when she spoke, her face a little pale and tired looking, the jumper under her coat the same from the night before, except now it was crumpled and bed worn.

He had turned to face her, eventually, guilt and sickness wrecking every nerve ending in his body. With bloodshot eyes, he blinked sleepily at her, his lips turned down and his mouth dry.

“Lydia… just, not right now, alright?’’

“Excuse me-’’

“Lydia’’, his voice sharper, “not now.’’

She had flinched and he hated himself.

“When, Stiles? Huh?’’ She had thrown her arms out to the side, wide and waiting for his answer.

He had sighed again, heavy and aching with every rumble in his ribcage. She wasn’t making it easy and he knew he didn’t deserve easy. He didn’t deserve her.

“I don’t know, oka-’’

She had scoffed, a laugh forcing itself out of her lips, ugly and humourless as she tried so f*cking hard to not let herself crumple, to not cry.

“So I’m expected to wait? Wait for you to explain to me what the f*ck happened last night?’’ She pointed a finger to her chest, “after I sat awake for hours last waiting on you coming home, to call or text or just let me know if you were okay?’’

Her voice cracked, going a little higher in pitch and Stiles f*cking shattered inside.

“You want me to wait some more?’’

Stiles could only shrug helplessly in answer, the cold making his fingers numb and stinging at his cheeks. He knew what wanted to say; that he was sorry, he was an idiot, he lov-.

But he didn’t and kept quiet, watched the girl grab her bags from the jeep and brush past him and into her building.

“f*ck you, Stiles.’’

He nodded sadly and climbed into the driver’s seat, gunning the Jeep into fourth gear before he’d even left the parking lot.

He hadn’t expected to hear from her after that but the texts had came, sober and after class and then drunk and sloppy and true, telling him she missed him, she hated him - and he didn’t know which part hurt the most. ‘Cause every time a text came through his cell litup with her name and her contact picture - a photo he’d snapped in the library one late night, his sweater bundled around her small frame as she laughed at him from behind a book as big as her head.

He watched that photo again through a shattered and cracked screen as he tried once more to call her, picking his phone up from the floor and pressing his back to the wall, the cold paint biting harshly at his bare back. His foot shook on the floorboards with nerves and frustration as the dial tone rang and rang and rang out, her voicemail picking up instead.

“f*ck.”

He almost tripped over more books in his haste to get out of his room, his hand slamming clumsily against the hallway walls as he made his way to the bathroom, the sound of the TV from the living room flooding through the apartment and letting him know one of his roommates was in.
The bathroom door clicked shut and he grunted with the effort of getting the old lock to click, shrugging his sweatpants off of his hips at the same time as the bolt slid into place and his boxers were on the floor.

He was a man on a mission.

Stiles didn’t wait for the water to heat up, and clambered into the shower stall immediately, hissing and cursing under the cold spray. But he grunted and set his jaw, scrubbing shampoo into his bed mussed hair for the first time in days, washing away the scent of whiskey and smoke and for once, finally feeling like he cleaned off the feel of the New York club from his skin.

He worked quickly, harshly, rubbing away the soapy suds from his body, wiping away the sleep from his face. The boy brushed his teeth, his eyes set on his phone that sat on the counter, waiting and hoping and wishing and praying that it might light up with her name, with Lydia calling him back. But as he spat out the toothpaste by his toes and swiped his forearm across his lips, his screen was still blank. So he swore again, his grumble hanging in the air and echoing off of the tiles, ‘cause apparently, curse words were the only thing he was capable of producing at that moment. And he let out another “sh*t”, when he climbed from the shower, hitting his toe off the edge of the bath as he reached for a towel and wrapped it around his waist.

He dripped puddles as he skidded back into his room, the sun from the windows making everything look so much more clear and crisp than it had before. He had spent days with his head burrowed in pillows and his curtains closed and he dried off as quick as he could, more awake than ever.

New boxers were found under his bag, overspilling with old notes and late library books and his jeans were a little too big but he couldn’t find a belt and he didn’t care too spend much time looking. Stiles grumbled as he pulled shirt after shirt out of his drawer, carelessly throwing each one to the floor as he wondered why each one was crumpled and crushed. Eventually giving up, he yanked on a shirt that was threadbare and it stuck to his still damp chest, bringing his towel to his head as he rubbed furiously, attempting to dry it with his cautious eyes trained on the falling snow outside. It was almost too long now, curling a little across his forehead and fluffy and soft without any product in it. But he jammed his feet into his shoes and grabbed a hoody, before barrelling out the door once more.

The apartment was quieter than before, the sound of the shower no longer roaring in his ears and once Stiles had gotten his shoes on his feet, there were no longer thumps against the wooden floorboards. The TV was playing nothing but a Netflix title page in the living room, the sound gone and the hum from the refrigerator buzzing in the air. There was shuffling from the behind the sofa and Stiles was so intent on getting out of the front door that he wouldn’t have actually noticed what was going on until a muttered curse stopped him in his tracks.

He turned, slowly at first, peering into what appeared to be an empty apartment. There were empty solo cups on the coffee table and leftover plates from breakfast by the sink. Isaac’s jacket was slumped messily over the armchair and the frost was sketching lace patterns on the window outside. But no one could actually be seen.

Not until a male voice let out a throaty yelp and tumbled from the blind spot of the sofa and onto the floor. Three voices swore, Stiles’ being the loudest as the sight of a bare chested Isaac appeared in front of him. The boy shot up from the floor, his strong face doing it’s best to look nonchalant despite the fact he was half naked and covered in what looked to be lipstick marks.

“Dude…” Stiles co*cked an eyebrow, not sure whether to advert his eyes or wonder what the f*ck his roommate was up to.

Isaac shrugged half heartedly, his arms fidgeting as the muscles there flexed nervously. His mouth was open and struggling for a response, his lips swollen and kiss bitten and the skin leading from his jawline to his navel was dotted and smeared with a pretty pink lipstick - the gloss shining in the light. Stiles smothered a grin as Isaac coughed, batting away a hand that appeared from behind the couch as it tried to pull at his belt buckle.

“Got a friend there, buddy?’’

Stiles’ hand was still on the door, and Lydia was in his mind but the corner of his lip quirked up in the first time in weeks, his friends obvious discomfort doing something for the little bit of dark humour left inside his bones. The other boy growled a low sound in his throat as he realised Stiles wasn’t moving anywhere, his face scrunched into a mix of amusem*nt and satisfaction.

It took another few awkward minutes of silence but eventually the girl who was hiding in the wedge of the sofa uncurled herself, her messy light hair the first thing coming into view. When blue eyes and a sardonic smile appeared over the back of the couch next, Stiles almost choked on his surprise. Malia raised her hand in a half wave, her mouth matching Isaac’s and her neck decorated with bruises and bites.

“Hey…’’

Malia’s voice was a little higher than normal and she drew out the word in an innocent sound, her mouth curling at the corners as Isaac let out a final huff and clapped his hand over his eyes.

“So, this is new,’’ Stiles commented, his voice sounding slightly strangled as confusion seeped through him.

Both Isaac and Malia hummed awkwardly in agreement, not one of them meeting each other’s eyes. A clock ticked somewhere in the depths of the apartment and the goddamn stupid fridge was still buzzing obnoxiously in the background as Isaac picked up Malia’s top from the floor and handed it to her with a blush on his high cheekbones.

More silence passed and Stiles was fighting another grin as Isaac glowered at him from the living room, his fingers curling into the pockets of his jeans that were partially unzipped.

“Okay, okay, I’m leaving now.’’

“Gonna go get your girl?’’

Stiles stopped and turned, catching the door before it could close. His eyebrows rose at the sound of Malia’s voice, her head still poking out from over the couch. She’d pulled her shirt back on and had rested her arms on the back of the sofa, staring up at Stiles with curious eyes that held an openness he wasn’t sure he’d seen before.

The boy cleared his throat, his old converse scuffing nervously against the worn carpet in the apartment hall. He swiped a hand over his face before answering with honesty.

“I’m gonna try, yeah.’’

At that, Isaac’s lips tilted up into a smile and he winked at the other boy, holding his arm out as he raised a thumb in approval. Malia smiled too, easy and natural - changing her usually stoic and beautiful face into something pretty and smooth.

“Good,’’ she told him with a soft voice, she played with her bracelet on her wrist, avoiding Stiles’ eyes, “that’s good. You and her - Lydia - you’re something else together, y’know?’’

“Magnetic,’’ Isaac commented, tapping his temple wisely before nodding at Stiles.

The girl seemed to agree and Stiles was at a loss for words so he nodded too, clearing his throat and trying not to leg it down the hallway in order to find her. ‘Cause his eyes were burning and his lungs were heaving and he felt like he was trying not to drown.

“I see that now,’’ Malia finished, her head co*cked to one side as Isaac fell down next to her, one hand smoothing over her back.

Stiles’ voice was throaty when he spoke in return, a few little, simple words that held far too much meaning. A secret, an acceptance, a complete outburst of truth.

“Yeah, we’re pretty good together.’’

He said it quietly, more to himself than his friends in front of him and Isaac’s word resonated in his entire body, lighting up his nerve endings with a sudden realisation. Magnetic.
‘Cause of course that would make sense, of course that would explain why he couldn’t stay away from the girl. They fought and argued and he was sure he’d f*cked up more than just this one time but for the love of everything holy on earth, he could not stay away. So he nodded again, a little bit shellshocked and a little bit dazed as he spun and slammed the door shut, his fingertips trailing along the mouldings on the hallway wall.

He took the steps two at a time.

Chapter 30: The Final Chapter

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry but I fell in love tonight,
I didn't mean to fall in love tonight.
You're looking like you fell in love.”

The air outside slapped him in the face as the front door shut behind him. Stiles seemed to have missed out on the fact that winter had arrived on campus and dustings of snow lay on the ground. The sky was a navy grey and little flecks of white fell from it, coating the mess of Stiles’ dark hair and landing on his lips, making him taste ice. He huffed, letting his breath linger in front of him, glittering particles that blocked his vision for a few seconds as he deliberated where the f*ck to go first.

He decided to start with the icy stairs, the concrete a menace under his unsuitable choice of footwear as he tried his damned hardest not to break out into a complete sprint across campus. But by the time he had made it across the quad, he was f*cking freezing, his college hoody a poor excuse for a jacket and his shoes were sodden through with the snow that continued to fall. He was only twenty feet away from Lydia’s dorm building before he decided that Lydia was worth slipping on ice for and he broke into a jog, his breath puffing out in front of him as he dodged students coming from the library and cafeteria. He was five feet away when he barreled into someone, books falling out of the person’s arms and down into the slushy puddles at their feet.

“Ah, sh*t - sorry man,’’ Stiles started, bending down and gathering the now damp textbooks and notes.

“Danny?’’

The other boy lifted up his dark head, his eyes sparking in recognition as he saw Stiles. They stood quickly, their arms full of Danny’s belongings as the snow continued to fall.

“Aw, hey man, long time no see,’’ Danny let out an easy smile, holding up a gloved hand in greeting as he balanced his book against his chest, brushing the snow off of the covers.

Stiles stared, his eyes narrowed slightly and his head tilted as he took in the other boy’s unbothered appearance. Silence washed over them with the snowflakes, a little uneasy and full of tension before Stiles burst out:

“-the f*ck have you been!?’’

Danny raised his eyebrows with another amused smile, his lips falling open as he attempted to explain but the boy cut him off.

“No seriously,’’ Stiles said, one arm outstretched and gesturing to the campus around them, “where have you been? Do you even go here anymore?’’

“Stiles…”

“I mean, it’s been like three months since I last seen you and I don’t think anybody even mentions you anymore and dude, did you like, die or something?’’ Stiles rambled, blinking excessively and waiting for answers with his hands on his hips.

“Are you done?’’ Danny asked, brushing more of the heavily falling snow from his hair.

“I mean, I guess I thought you just transferred or something, like, are you graduating early or? ‘Cause seriously dude, it’s been a while…”

“Stiles,’’ Danny cut in again, his teeth starting to chatter together as the cold seeped into both of the boys as the stood out on the campus quad. The snow was falling heavier now, the sky bleached grey and pink and making the entire world look like it was coated in a rose and candy floss glow. The snow crunched under Stiles’ shuffling feet.

“Can I talk now?’’

“Yes, sure, yeah,’’ Stiles huffed distractedly, his eyes trained on the upper floors of Lydia’s dormitory building, the curtains closed over and only a little light peeking through, “so where the f*ck have you been Danny? This better be interesting.’’

The younger boy sighed, bemused and he shrugged, gesturing to the campus and buildings laid out in front of them.

“Around, I guess?’’

Stiles gaped.

“I mean, I’ve been busy with studying and stuff and I’ve been dating this guy who has major family issues and a twin brother that has co-dependency problems…’’ Danny trailed off awkwardly, adjusting his backpack over his shoulder as Stiles appraised him with raised eyebrow.

“Huh’’, Stiles replied unhelpfully, “do they still take bubble baths together or something?’’

“Still to be decided’’, Danny frowned, his face taking on a worried expression before looking back up, “anyway, what’s going on? Where are you going in such a rush?’’

Stiles had the right to look a little guilty as he explained himself, more snow falling across his cheekbones and sticking to his lashes. He blinked as he chewed on his bottom lip, the skin feeling cold and chapped.

“Uh, to see Lydia?’’

Danny hid the smirk that tried to fight it’s way onto his face, ducking his head instead and sliding a show against the snow coated pavement. He looked back up at the boy with one eyebrow co*cked and a more authoritative glint in his gaze.

“Is that a statement or a question?’’

“It’s, uh, it’s more of an uncertainty… of uh, well, whether she’ll see me or not?’’ Stiles squinted, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jeans.

“I know what happened, you know. I know pretty much everything, Stiles,’’ Danny told him.

Stiles let out a long, self-depreciating groan that ended in a chuckle that held everything but humour, “yeah, I kinda figured that.’’

“You may not have seen me around in a while, but Lydia still talks to me, we meet for coffee when we can-’’

Stiles nodded, looking at the ground, the dorm windows behind Danny, the bare trees, the horizon and its slate coloured clouds - anywhere but at Danny.

“-and I talk to Allison too-’’

Stiles let out a groan and a curse as he moved too quickly at the mention of the brunettes name, slipping on a little patch of ice under his foot.

“-Ally has a lot to say about you these days.’’

Stiles laughed again, a harsh bark that was full of nerves and it left a cloud of ice in front of his face, “oh, I bet she does.’’

“But despite what Allison says and in between all the yelling and cursing you out, I know Lydia’s still waiting on you getting your head out of your ass.’’

Stiles stopped looking up at the sky, stopping enjoying the way the snow and ice fell onto his skin with a kiss and a bite. He let his head drop forward, his eyes a little glassy, a little brighter than before.

“She is?’’

Danny shrugged and nodded, “she doesn’t take sh*t Stiles. She didn’t take any of her ex’s and she’s not gonna put up with yours either.’’

Stiles’ breath left his chest with a stutter and a harsh rasp, getting caught in his throat as he hoped and wished and prayed that Danny’s next words were positive.

“But there’s something about you. About the two of you - together,’’ Danny explained, a little smile on the corner of his lips. “Don’t get me wrong, you f*cked it up man, but I think there’s obviously more to it and it’s not fair to judge you and chew you out on that.’

Stiles swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and nodded.

“I’ve never seen Lydia like she is when she’s with you. She’s happy, man. A little more alive, you know? She complains about you, like, eighty five percent of the time but I can tell she enjoys it.’’

Stiles let out a laugh that held some meaning this time, a little more joy than he thought he could feel at that point, but he returned the smiled that Danny gave him and looked up at Lydia’s room window with a little more hope than last time.

“Go, Stiles, seriously,’’ Danny said, walking backwards and kicking up snow from behind him, “don’t f*ck it up again though.’’

Stiles grimaced but agreed, watching until the other boy was protected from the weather underneath the steel awnings that led to the library, “or what? Will you kick my ass?’’

“Nah, I’ll just hold Allison’s earrings while she does it.’’

______________________________________

“Kira, I need you to- Kira, Kira!’’

Stiles swore into the phone, creatively and harshly as he kicked some snow off of an empty flower planter by the door. White flakes coated his shoulders and decorated his hair, the hand that held his phone to his ear blue and stiff with the cold.

“Kira, are you even listening?’’

Static and more background noise flooded from the speaker and Stiles groaned as he pressed his face to the frozen glass panes once more, his free hand cupped around his eyes as he attempted to see through the ice laced window that led to Lydia’s dorm lobby.

Kira’s voice chirped into his ear after a few seconds and Stiles leapt at the sound, his voice frantic and frustrated.

“Kira? Kira, can you hear me? Yukimura I swear to f*cking god girl, please pay attention,’’ Stiles grumbled, his breath coming in heavier pants, his vision blocked with cold, cold clouds of air and falling snow that made the whole world seem hazy.

“Right, okay, look - this isn’t difficult okay? Just please, call Hayden and ask her to come open her building door. Please,’’ Stiles explained through gritted teeth, trying his hardest to ignore what sounded like a game of beer pong in the background of Kira’s location.

“Cause I don’t have her number, Kira!’’

The campus was empty now, the grounds clear of students as the snow fell heavier, covering the grass and concrete quad, coating the trees in ice and making everything glitter. Stiles was not in the mood for glitter.

“I don’t f*cking know the girl, I don’t want her cell, you’re in her arts class, I want you to call her for me! Kira… Kira, hell will freeze over before I have the balls big enough to call and ask Allison.’’

Kira’s voice squabbled back at him impatiently and the boy pinched the bridge of his nose as his best friend continued to fight him on every sentence.

“No, that’s creepy! Kira, Ki- f*cking, Kira! Look, dude, just please, call Hayden, tell her to let me in okay?’’

The plant pot received another swift kick, a dent breaking into the plastic, splitting it down the middle as snow poured into the soil. Stiles huffed, one hand shoved in his pocket as cold and ice soaked him through.

“Me waiting outside isn’t creepy, okay? I just need to-’’ Stiles paused, frowning in annoyance as Kira argued back, her voice becoming decidedly more drunken and slurred, “hey, f*ck you, you’re creepy!’’

She hung up.

“Motherf*cker!’’ Stiles growled, angrily brushing more snow out of his hair as it became increasingly damp, settling against his forehead and dripping freezing water onto his nose. He counted to ten and took a few deep breaths, looking back into the empty lobby before sighing and pressing his cell back to his ear.

“I’m sorry for calling you creepy,’’ Stiles huffed.

Kira was silent on the other end of the line, the roar of the background party she was obviously at fading into a dull concoction of music, bass and hollers.

“Kira, just please, I need you to get Hayden - or anyone, I don’t care - to let me in,’’ Stiles let his voice soften and he heard his friend sigh through the speaker.

The line went from noisy and full of music to the harsh click of a door being shut before everything went quiet. Kira’s soft breaths huffed into Stiles’ ear before he heard her lick her lips, a sure sign she was hesitating before she spoke.

“You - Stiles, you love her, don’t you?’’

The boy stopped and the world froze with him.

Snow kept falling and the chill grew to his bones but the overwhelming sensation that came with his friends words gripped his chest and twisted until it burned. His lips opened and closed, parted and shut again before he simply exhaled heavily, making the speaker crackle and his heart beat a little more wildly than before.

When he didn’t answer, when he felt like he couldn’t talk, Kira spoke instead, quiet and understanding and softer than the snow surrounding him.

“I’ll call Hayden.’’

No more than three minutes later, a small girl trudged down the stairwell, her lips turned into a begrudging frown and her sweatpants tucked into fluffy blue slippers. Stiles leapt up from the wall he was perched on, wincing at how his cold muscles shouted in protest. But the door beeped and the snow crunched as it opened and swept the ice out of its way.

Hayden grimaced at the sight of the white campus before appraising him with dark eyes that reminded him of Cora. She held the door with a tanned arm, shuffling uncomfortably against the cold air.

“Alright, Romeo, move it.’’

Stiles didn’t need to be told twice, moving quickly as she let go of the handle, his own arm catching the door before it shut. He sighed in relief at both the warmth of the lobby, his numb fingers stinging at the change in temperature as he shouted out a thanks to the younger girl as she made her way back up the stairs, holding two fingers up in a salute as she went - fluffy slippers, rainbow print t-shirt and all.

He took the stairs like a challenge, missing every second one with long, determined strides and awkward footing. Warmth flooded back to him, limb by limb and Stiles licked his lips in anticipation, the knot in his stomach growing at every floor he passed. He grazed by other students, hopped over their outstretched legs as they lounged in the hallways outside their rooms. He counted each wooden door, stalking down the corridor at a frantic pace, the world outside getting darker and the thoughts in his mind becoming more worried.

Was he too late?

And then there it was, her dorm.

He stood outside her door, heart clenching in his chest at the scrawl of her name beside Allison’s on their little whiteboard on the wall. He knocked, breath stuck between his ribs and his body heavier than the whole f*cking world.

______________________________________

Lydia wasn’t curled up on her bed, with her legs tucked under herself, a book in her hands. She wasn’t sitting by her desk, scrolling through essays or pinning up new Polaroids of her friends. She wasn’t folding laundry, ready to throw back his hoodys and sweatshirts she’d stolen from him. She wasn’t there at all.

Stiles deflated, placing a cold, closed fist on the door frame and letting a whispered cursed fall from his lips.

Someone answered from behind the door. From inside the dorm.

The boy fell into the room with impatience, the door swinging shut behind him and letting his eyes settle on Allison’s bed. The brunette sat there with Scott, their legs intertwined and forgotten earphones swinging from their fingertips.

Allison’s glare felt as cold as the snow that was still melting on his skin, seeping into his shirt, his socks, his bones and though he probably would deny it to Isaac for years to come, Stiles stepped back as she leapt from the bed.

“You.’’ Her bare feet hit the floor.

“Oh sh*t, Scotty, restrain her.’’ Stiles stumbled backwards, his sodden shoes tripping over handbag straps and forgotten towels and textbooks before the backs of his knees hit Lydia’s mattress. “Quickly.”

Stiles had one hand out in front of him for protection and he grew increasingly more scared of the girl who was stalking across the dorm room until she stood tall before him, with his best friends Harley shirt on her slim frame and hell fire in her f*cking eyes. Ally glared at him, only revelling slightly in the way the boy’s adam’s apple bobbed nervously at the sight of her. His hand that he held out wavered slightly and when her boyfriend’s fingers curled around her arm to pull her back gently, she smirked.

Stiles placed two palms in the air, his eyes flickering between the couple and his words stuttering awkwardly in his throat, dying on his lips. ‘Cause the boy was a little bit done, a little too exhausted, a kind of tired that only came from heartache that had settled in his bones. It had taken up residency in his body, drank from his blood and built a f*cking campfire in his ribcage.

“Where’s Lydia?’’

Scott’s eyes softened considerably at his best friends words, the plea that he held on his lips, the defeat that laced his voice. But his arm wrapped itself around his girlfriend’s waist, pulling her body back against his before she could charge at the other boy.

“Why the f*ck should I tell you?’’

“Allison, come on-’’

“No, Scott, alright?’’ the girl turned in his arms at her boyfriend’s words, her lips turned into a determined frown as she placed a hand on his chest, “you seen her, you saw the state she was in after she came back here, it’s not fair-’’

“Is she okay? Was Lydia crying? Is she here? Where-’’ Stiles broke in, his voice hoarse and his throat thick with concern and guilt.

Allison whirled round again, her little feet lifting off of the floor slightly as Scott caught her once again, hauling her back as he smiled a little guiltily at his friend who seemed to be increasingly concerned for his own safety.

“Nuhuh, no, nope, you don’t get to ask that Stilinski,’’ Allison poked at the air in front of her, pointing accusingly at Stiles, “what, you’ve decided that you suddenly care, is that it, huh?’’

“Allison, f*cking hell, let me expla-’’

“Ran out of booty calls, huh, Stiles? Not done f*cking with my best friends heart?’’ The girl spat, her eyes furious in the dim light and with the sun fading behind the clouds that were painted navy, Stiles thought she looked goddamn dangerous.

“Ally,’’ Scott placated gently, letting his hand drop from her waist to curl around her fingers. He rubbed a thumb over her knuckles, “hey, just listen okay?’’

The girl let out a rush of breath and blinked, fixing her hard gaze on Stiles. After a few beats of silence, she quirked one eyebrow impatiently and Stiles took that as a signal to start explaining.

“Look,’’ he started quickly, worried that the girl would unleash another torrent of well deserved abuse at him, “I know I f*cked up okay? I know. I took my sweet damn time getting my head out of my ass and I know I was stupid. I know all of this and I would spend more time apologising to you about it but right now I need to see Lydia ‘cause if I don’t talk to her in the next few minutes I’m going to go out of my damn mind.’’

His breath left his lips as quick and as hotly as his words did, Stiles staring at the girl with so much determination and fierceness that it hurt. He was well aware that he was probably taking on the person who cared for Lydia more than him, matching her ferocious protectiveness with his small shred of hope that he was still hanging onto. And f*ck, did he cling to it.

“Allison,” Stiles pleaded softly, his sweater still dripping cold water onto the floor, “please?’’

Emotions raged inside the brunette and Scott’s hand was still curled around her own as they flashed over her pretty features, evident in her eyes. She sighed, flicking her gaze to the ceiling as she apparently thought over her decision, leaving Stiles standing uncomfortably, growing more agitated by the second.

“You’ve just missed her, she just left.’’

“Where?’’ Stiles asked, voice a little broken, “where is she?’’

______________________________________

Stiles stood outside the white bathroom door that was labelled “Female’’, staring at it with dark eyes like the vindictive motherf*cker it was. It all came back to there, to that one room. When Allison had told him Lydia had left to take a shower, he hadn’t really thought the situation through before he took off out the dorm and down the hallway, dancing around more lingering students.

He tripped and trailed down the corridor until it ended with that one with door and he was left standing before it, silently cursing out the fact that their campus didn’t utilise the use of co-ed bathrooms. He paced back and forth a few times, ignoring the stares from two juniors that passed.

He shuffled his feet, still wet and leaving damp footprints on the coarse carpet, chewing on his bottom lip before he announced to anyone who cared to listen:

“f*cking, f*ck - screw it!’’

And then the door hit the wall with a bang, the same noise made by his heart as it hammered against his ribs. Shrieks and yells met his ears as the familiar wall of steam enveloped his body and warmed his lungs. His eyes were trained on the ceiling as girls around him squealed and jumped out of his path as he muttered apologies before announcing:

“Lydia?’’

The room was a little quieter, the sound of one or two showers still running, the water hitting off of the tiles. Stiles’ shoes squeaked against the wet floor, the whispers of the girls around him filling the space like an audience he didn’t really want. But eventually, a voice echoed back to him, his own name bouncing off of the walls.

“Stiles?’’

He dropped his gaze, ignoring how the other girls were standing with towels clutched to their chests, staring at him with wide eyes and twisted scowls. Lydia was there, in the middle of the chaos, in only a shirt that reached her thighs, her hair tangled into a top knot and a confused look across her features.

“Lyd-”

“What the f*ck, Stiles?!’’ Lydia burst out, pink warming her cheeks at the few pairs of eyes that were settled on her, waiting for the obvious drama that was about to unfold.

“I need to talk to you,’’ Stiles explained, voice quiet and hoarse, “I need to expla-’’

“Here?!’’ Lydia asked, disbelief mixing with her words, her arms crossed against her chest, making her shirt rise and Stiles’ gaze drop on reflex.

He was f*cked.

“Yeah, okay, maybe it might not be the best location but, Jesus Kitten, I really need to f*cking explain.’’

“Now?’’ Lydia barked out a laugh, humourless and tired, “after almost three weeks? You wanna talk now, in the middle of the girls bathroom? f*cking hell Stiles!’’

Lydia clamped her hands to her head, rubbing her fingers against her temples as she battled with her inner monologue, eyeing the boy warily as he stood watching her with eyes too pretty and too intense, his clothes sodden and hanging off of his frame, waterlogged and too big.

“And don’t call me that,’’ the girl added as an afterthought, her fingers angrily pushing stray curls away from her face, her green eyes finding his own, sharp and accusing.

“Oh, we’re going there again, are we?’’ Stiles couldn’t help but bite out.

“Of course we’re f*cking going there!’’ Lydia all but hissed, her back straightening to her full height as she geared herself up for a fight that was reminiscent of when they first met, all teeth and heat and tension.

Eyes stared back at them, shampoo bottles hanging from distracted fingers as the group of girls lined the walls like they were watching a bad soap opera. Stiles breathed out harshly just as Lydia did the same, his fingers clenching and unclenching into fists as she stared angrily at the tiles behind him.

Silence and sticky warmth and steam wrapped around them, suffocating his lungs, making his words heavy on his tongue.

“Okay, everyone needs to get the f*ck out. Please!’’ Stiles yelled, the muscle in his jaw ticking as the strawberry blonde glared at him in defiance.

The girls around him looked at him in shock but eventually, gradually, one of them moved. Each one stared between him and Lydia, their eyes flicking back and forth as the clearly decided what to do. Eventually, whether is was the awkwardness or the tension that broke them, they filed out of the bathroom one by one, each picking up their things and letting their gazes roam over Stiles curiously as they left.

“Thank you,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.

“You have the emotional maturity level of a shampoo bottle,’’ Lydia all but snarled and Stiles was going to make a smart comment about how she only called him that because she was currently holding one but he stopped when the purple bottle was launched in his direction.

He dodged it, but only just, narrowing his eyes at the girl who was still standing in that damned t-shirt. It skimmed her thighs as she moved, pacing the room as she apparently seemed to hunt down another weapon. But she came up empty and when she was near enough to the boy, he moved, quick and sharp towards her until he caught her wrist in his grip, gentle and delicate.

Stiles’ eyes matched his touch and Lydia felt herself thaw just a little - and that only furthered the burn in her chest, the scream in her throat that she wanted to release. So she tried to yank her hand away, tried to put distance between her and the boy, ‘cause the room was thick with steam and it sat heavy on her skin and she was reminded about all the other times he managed to get her in here and how it always seemed to end with her against a wall and Stiles with wet clothes and a bare chest.

And they already had one of those things ticked off.

“I know, okay?’’ he said, his voice rough, “I know and I f*cking hate myself for it and I don’t know what to do, so please, please Lydia, just let me talk.’’

Lydia pressed her lips together, the feel of his fingers curled around her wrist still making her stomach drop and roll. She knew what the boy was trying to say, knew what he wanted to tell her. ‘Cause it was written in his eyes and he told her by allowing them to fall soft, into stupid pools of melted gold that she hated to look into ‘cause, oh my god, it just wasn’t fair.

“I f*cked up, I f*cked up, I f*cked up.’’

Stiles head tilted to the side, his lips parting slightly like he wanted to say something else but when Lydia lifted her chin and allowed him to see the tears that were starting to pool in her eyes, he broke and the most he was able to manage was a hoarse curse. And when his hand slipped down from her wrist she caught her fingers in her hand and Stiles almost wept at the contact. The girl didn’t intertwine their fingers, and she didn’t move closer to him, but she clasped her hand around his digits and held tight - and that was enough.

It was more than he deserved, the boy thought.

Together they sunk to the floor, out of instinct or tiredness, he didn’t know but they done it together which could have only been a good thing. The tiles were a little damp and the pipes underneath made his skin prickle with warmth but he was beside Lydia and she looked a little calmer. Their knees knocked and bumped as they both crossed them between each other, their eyes still on the other’s face and lips worried by nervous teeth and nibbles.

“Talk then, Stiles,’’ Lydia told him, her voice quiet and softened by the heat in the air.

His skin still felt cold from the winter outside but there was f*cking electricity in his bones and a girl from hell in front of him and she emitted more heat than he ever knew he needed. He craved it, he missed her and it terrified him.

But he spoke anyway, like she asked. Stiles swallowed heavily, pushing down the fears that dug their claws into the inside of his throat and he let the words out instead.

“I’m sorry’’, he started with a sniff, looking at the tiles between them and hoping to the stars above that no one was gonna walk in, ‘cause he was weak and if someone interrupted, he didn’t know if he could keep going, “I’m really f*cking sorry, Kitten.’’

The boy paused, chancing a brief look at her face, checking to see if he was going to get slapped - he knew it had been a long time coming - to see if she was going to cut him off right there before he even started, to tell him no, f*ck no, he wasn’t allowed to call her that anymore.

But she was quiet with her bottom lip tucked between her teeth and her pretty green eyes trained on the floor, fingers sweeping over the wet hem of his jeans before finding his hand once more.

There was a sniff, quiet and soft and a little broken. Stiles looked up and instantly regretted his actions, because Lydia sat there, beautiful and sad and it was a goddamn f*cking travesty.

‘Cause you know that feeling, when it’s finally stopped raining and it’s a little peaceful and the storm clouds are slowly fading and the sun is trying to get through? When the world fades away from grey to rose and gold and the smell of wet pavements is in the air and everything smells like summer and being f*cking young? Well, that’s what it was like looking at Lydia Martin in an oversized shirt, bare footed and with tears in her eyes.

She had taken his hand and sh*t, she had taken his whole life too.

He let out a sigh that was just for her, the one he knew he made when she was around. He knew how his eyes turned softer for her, how one corner of his lips twitched upwards in some sort of pained smile. It hurt to love her, it hurt to admit he’d done wrong. But it hurt ever more when he watched her clutch her tears in her throat, when she kept her sad sounds trapped between her lips and her tongue.

He gripped her hand a little tighter as he licked his lips, swallowed hard, prepared himself for the words he didn’t expect to come so easily to his mind.

“Lydia, I’ve been an idiot. I know that, you know, everybody knows. And I don’t wanna make excuses for myself, you don’t deserve that. I just wanna let you know, I’m so f*cking sorry,’’ Stiles croaked out, “I’m sorry for New York, for Thanksgiving. I’m sorry for these last two weeks and I’m sorry about early today.’’

“But most of all, I’m sorry that I’m selfish enough to still want you,’’ Stiles said sadly.

“I’m not a big hero who’s strong and selfless enough to let you go, to watch you walk away. I know I don’t deserve you, especially after what’s happened but f*cking hell, Kitten, we’re so damned good together and if I let you walk away now I don’t think I’d cope.’’

Lydia raised her gaze from the tiles to the boy, lashes too long and shielding her eyes until Stiles’ last words. He sounded tired and a little done for but the ferocity of his emotions came in his words, bounced off the walls around him and created a new found heartbeat in her chest. There was a drumbeat in her rib cage, something pounding through her veins.

She blinked, once, twice before looking him in the eye, steady and too cool for how she felt.

“Did you sleep with anyone?’’ Lydia asked, her hand faltering on his own ever so slightly, “that night? When you didn’t come home?’’

She was rewarded with the boy shaking his head furiously, his jaw a little slack and his eyes filled with confusion and wonder. Stiles leaned a little closer and Lydia cursed herself out silently when she found she didn’t have it in her to move away.

“No, Lydia, f*ck, no,’’ Stiles rushed, his hair drying into a chaotic soft mess that mirrored everything he felt and said, “God, I swear, I didn’t - I didn’t want to.’’

New determination filled the boy's voice as she shuffled closer still across the tiles. He didn’t care how his fingers stung with the heat, how his leg was curled into an awkward position underneath him. The world were tumbling from his lips, falling as fast as he was.

“Look, I normally would have. ‘Cause that was my thing and I know I sucked and I was a f*cking idiot for thinking girls in my bed could help fix things. And Allison was right, my life isn’t a bad plot from a Young Adult book and I’m just an asshole instead.’’

“But, f*ck Lydia, I was at that club, drunk and in a sh*tty place and I expected it to fix how I felt, like it normally would’ve. And it’s a horrible f*cking excuse but Thanksgiving isn’t good for me and it gets a little darker when this time of year comes round, but all I thought about was you, and it was f*cking terrifying.’’

His fingers twitched, curled around the girl’s tighter still. And their legs brushed and their knees bumped as they moved closer, Stiles’ voice dropping lower and quieter like he was sharing all of his secrets and Lydia wanted to catch them all, taste them on her tongue.

“I’m not used to that Kitten,’’ he told her , confusion still lacing his voice, “I’m not used to knowing a girl’s favourite book and colour, or knowing what she likes on her pizza.’’ Stiles looked into Lydia’s eyes, puzzlement and wonder and awe filling them both up, “I know what side of the bed you sleep on and I know your hair is the most wonderful mess I’ve ever seen in the morning.’’

“You make me want to hold your hand, like, all the f*cking time. I want to be near you, I wanna know how your day was, every day, for as long as you’ll want to tell me. I wanna keep finding out new things about you, I want to keep feeling the way you make me feel - and I don’t care if it’s a little scary at first, ‘cause I think it just means-’’

His words died in his throat and Stiles released a shaky breath into the humid air, his hand falling to the tiles as he supported his weight, looking at the girl in front of him wearing nothing but a threadbare t-shirt and the prettiest eyes he’d ever seen.

“Stiles?’’ Lydia spoke, hesitantly, softly and with a lot less venom before.

Silence hung over them for little while longer, only drips of broken showers and the quiet rumble of reality that could be heard outside of the door. Stiles swiped a hand over his face, licked at his lip and prayed no one would walk in, ‘cause f*ck, the stupid door didn’t have a lock.

“I think it means I’m falling for you,’’ Stiles told her, sounding braver than he felt and his palms were a bit clammy and his face was too warm but his eyes sparkled golden and Lydia’s world shook a little.

He was quick to follow with more words, sincere and desperate and rushed enough to make the girl close her own lips and listen to his speech.

“And I’m okay with that, ‘cause I figured out today that everybody else seemed to know that already,’’ he chuckled a little, still stuck between humour and fear so it came out a little choked off and it made the girl’s lips twitch upwards, “things with Malia were different, not bad but so, so different from us, from how I feel about you. ‘Cause Malia is lying on our couch with my roommate right now and I’ve spent the last few weeks f*cking pining for you - and Jesus Christ, Lydia I’ve never felt that way before.’’

Stiles let out a breath, a sigh and Lydia stared, wide eyed and full of wonder.

“You know what I mean?’’ He huffed out, scared and helpless and hopeful.

“Yeah,’’ the girl replied, “yeah, I do.’’

And that was it.

He kissed her, finally, after two long, long weeks. He kissed her like he wanted to, like he’d go to hell for it. With his hands in her hair and curving along her jaw and the feel of her nails leaving little half moons on his shoulders. f*ck it all, he wasn’t ashamed to admit he shuddered under her touch.

And under the roar of his heart thudding, he heard her moan - or maybe it was him, he didn’t f*cking know anymore - but he chased her lips, pupils blown wide and dark and his eyelashes brushed the slant of her jaw as worked his way up to her mouth, kissing at the corner like he was still asking for permission, for forgiveness. Lydia mewled, soft, broken noises that made Stiles’ eyes fall shut as he collected himself, sucking in deep, slow breaths. He set a rhythm, steady and sure despite the fact that he was losing his f*cking mind.

That, that was it. Stiles decided there and then, on the damp bathroom floor that he wasn’t ever letting this go. That feeling, that girl. Stiles Stilinski decided then that he was going to have to marry Lydia Martin and her oversized jumpers and her penchant for arguing ‘cause f*ck if he was giving all of that up.

So he held on tight until Lydia grew impatient and rose to her knees, letting their lips slip apart, only just, only slightly, until Stiles followed and his hands found her waist instead. The girls’ bare legs tangled with his as they made their way across the room where they had first met, clumsy and as impatient as ever. It was a little messy but so were they and f*ck, it just worked. Lydia held onto his hair, pulling down on his neck until the boy stopped and allowed her to lick into his mouth, needy and just as desperate as him. Likewise, he gripped her just as tightly, his arms round her waist as they tumbled across the tiles, her body pulled close to his until only her toes grazed the floor.

By the time Lydia was pressed between the wall and Stiles, her little fingers fighting against the wet weight of the boy’s shirt so she could reach his skin, murmurs came from outside in the hallway. Whispers of conversations that grew louder until the door opened with a squeak of the hinges and three voices flooded through.

It didn’t take much for Stiles to lead Lydia to one of the empty shower stalls, hidden round the corner and shielded from sight by the thick curtain that hung from the rail. He hopped in after her, squeezed in tight in the small space.

The boy gulped, flustered and lips glossy from Lydia’s as he hid a smile, adoring the way the girl responded in like, burrowing her face to his chest as he supported them both against the tiles. Relief radiated from him, happiness made his cheeks hurt, made his eyes see everything a little bit brighter. ‘Cause Lydia was in his arms, letting his curl his hands around her waist, her feet between his as she pressed closer, muffling her laughter into his neck.

He relaxed, for the first time since he arrived home from New York, letting out a quiet and satisfied sigh as he leaned back into the cubicle wall. And the voices eventually left, the taps at the sink turning off and the sound of shoes slapping softly across the floor and back out the door.

It was was quiet again and Lydia lifted her head, a smile on her lips and her eyes so green and full of everything good and lovely and Stiles lost his balance just looking back down at her. Their feet tangled together, Lydia’s on top of his own as the boy slipped down the damp wall, taking the shower tap with him and sending water raining over them.

“Really? Again?’’

Her laughter was infectious, bright and sharp and real - bouncing off of the tiles and mixing with the sound of the water pounding against the floor. It warmed him more than the heat inside the bathroom, the burning temperature of the water. Stiles allowed her to pull him down to her height, Lydia’s fingers on the nape of his neck, weaving into the ends of his wet hair. There was no rush when their lips met and it was warm and steady and deep and slow. He sighed into her, pulled her tighter, dug his fingertips into her hips. And when they parted twenty minutes later, they were both soaked through, their clothes stuck to their skin and smiles painted on their lips.

They strolled casually down the hallway, drops of water clinging to their lashes and wet footprints left in trails behind them. Their lips were swollen, bee-stung and kissed, hair stuck to their foreheads and eyes too glittery for the dull lights inside. Side by side, they avoided the strange looks from other students, their wet feet and shoes shuffling along the carpet as they hid the smiles on their lips behind teeth and clumsy hands.

______________________________________

The snow had stopped by the next morning, leaving blankets of white ice and blue skies behind, pink clouds on the horizon. The ground crunched underneath the boy's feet as he crossed the quad, zigzagging in and out of the students who milled around between classes. He walked the familiar route, nodding politely to girls who waved and smiled.

His sweater protected him from the bitter air, the jacket he wore on top smelling a little sweet and reminiscent of a girl with hair that looked and felt like fire. He took the steps two at a time,waking up more eager than ever, walking through the warmer corridors of the literature building, honey coloured eyes looking out for strawberry blonde curls and lips that smiled just for him. It was winter and below freezing and he felt golden.

Outside the lecture hall door, sat a girl with a crown of rose gold curls. Her sweater was too big and the boy was sure it was his and she was burrowed underneath it, a scarf wrapped around her neck as she nibbled on the tassels. And there was a book in her lap that she had started when they first met, her fingers skimming over the words until he stopped in front of her, his snow soaked sneakers toeing playfully at her own.

Lydia raised her eyes, her lips curving upwards as she took the hand that was held out to her. It fit, her’s tiny and delicate in his large and strong. It fit like it always had, right from the very beginning.

But this time it felt a little bit better, cause Stiles’ turned to the girl with a grin of his own, a shadow of the smirk he used to send her way. And he raised his brows, a glint in the eyes she always found too distracting as he dropped a kiss to her temple and her boyfriend asked:

“Ready, Kitten?’’

Together, they sat in their row in class, feet brushing and gazes lingering too long cause despite the months that had went by and the kisses already shared, everything was a little bit new again. It was exciting and fresh and it was a summer rainfall, the first snow before Christmas. It was the upbeat punk pop song on that teen movie everyone loves and it left the feeling of absolute f*cking joy in your stomach.

It was a little bit scary and it felt a lot like love and it was one of those things that should come with a warning.

Chapter 31: Epilogue.

Chapter Text

“Oh I'll admit it, Kitten,
I'm smitten with you.”

The sun streamed into the window in a way that was so familiar now, that Lydia had a hard time accepting the sun rising anywhere but there - slightly to her left, hidden behind wooden blinds and blocked partially by trees. It rose high in blue skies in the summer, mixed with pink and lilac clouds and she always had the warmth of another body behind her, tangled legs and lips on her neck, huffing out moans and hums of appreciation when she awoke and moved against lean muscles and strong arms.

It was her favourite time of day and the worst all at once. ‘Cause she would stretch out long and warm under white sheets, her hair spilling over pillows that were both hers and someone else’s, coffee in the air and her book on the floor beside her, abandoned the night before for lips on hers instead. Then it would start with an arm, slipping over her waist, usually bare and with the slow eruption of goosebumps - or it would tangle under a shirt that wouldn’t be her own, persistent and greedy for the feel of her against a rough and large palm.

Legs would slid up her own, cold feet pressing against her calves and lips would kiss at her shoulder, rub stubble under her jaw, mouth at her neck until she squirmed and caved, rolling over to bleary eyes filled with sleep and hair messier than her own.

She’d place her lips on his, smile into it like it was everything she was hoping for, everything she woke up for. Hands would squeeze at her waist, tangle their way into strawberry blonde curls before lips would find her nose, cheek, forehead. And then Lydia would hear his voice, low and rough and gravelly - a hum leaving his throat, lazy, content and happy.

And then:

“Morning, Kitten.”

It rumbled through her, vibrated against her bare back, sent something warm to the base of her spine and Stiles knew it, felt it too, ‘cause he’d smile against her back, grin right into her skin and nip at her, playful and so much more awake. The hands would roam, warm and calloused and finding places on her that only he was allowed to touch, ‘cause three years ago, they’d found themselves under a shower together and told each other they weren’t f*cking sharing.

And the boy had discovered since then, how it felt when she was wet from the shower and naked under him too, pressed into cold tiles that made her hiss. He’d found out what she looked like under just candlelight, starry eyed on Valentine’s day and laughing so hard at the cheesy lines he tried to feed her with a grin that rivalled her own. He knew how the girl looked spread out on his bed, for his eyes only and on top of him on the sofa when their friend’s finally left them alone.

Stiles also knew she cried at any movies with animals or old people in it, hated sour cream on her nachos and was extra cuddly when she didn’t feel well. He knew Lydia loved her hair played with and he tried extra hard to learn how to braid it for her when she spent a week in bed with the flu. He punched Isaac on the arm when the boy laughed at him for looking up youtube tutorials, accepted Lydia’s sincere thanks with a grin when all he managed to do was tie her pretty, long locks into knots.

He knew he’d never tire of the girl climbing onto his lap whenever it suited her, didn’t mind how her little hands found his own even when they were in company of friends. He knew what body wash she used, picked her up a new bottle when the one she had in his own shower ran low. He loved that he was a better cook than her, loved how even in heels she only reached his chin.

He got a lump in his throat when he told Lydia six months ago that he loved her. Tried really hard to keep it together when her lips parted in surprise, took her gaze away from the movie they were watching despite the fact that for a whole forty five minutes he’d looked at nothing but her. Stiles had brushed away the tear that escaped her eyes with a gentle thumb, tried really hard not to bite at his lip when she started f*cking glowing with happiness, tumbled into his lap and told him the same words over and over, kisses in between, messy and clumsy and on his lips and everywhere else.

He adored the way she became impatient for his attention when he was otherwise occupied. Hands resting on his lower stomach as he cooked, alone with her in the kitchen as she would pull at his belt, lips on any bare skin she could find. The sight of her below him would never get old, the way she knocked him back into his bedroom door with pushy, little hands and even bossier words would forever be one of his favourite things.

It made him grin knowing that he always got to call her Kitten now, no matter how mad he’d maybe managed to get her. But he liked how he could still rile her, get her a little on edge before kissing her soundly and reminding her that she was his favourite person. Ever.

And he was hers.

Lydia was the first person in his arms when he graduated, tumbling into them like a little rose gold hurricane, peppering kisses and her own falling tears of pride onto his face and lips. They stayed up all night with their friends, partying and dancing, finding their own solace in madness on Scott’s favourite armchair - curled into each other and whispering words onto the others lips. She was the one to bring him coffee the next day, kick Isaac out of his room so she could herself onto his lap and into the bed that had became theirs.

She held his hand the entire way to New York when his Dad was shot on duty. Let him cry into her shoulder when they sat in the hospital waiting room, let him lift her off her feet in a hug so strong when the doctors told them everything was fine - he’d be okay.

He was there in the background when she argued with her Mother over the phone, reached out his hand when the yelling got too much and he wiped away any tears of frustration that leaked from her eyes with the hem of his shirt, buried her tiny frame into his chest and dropped a kiss on her crown - promising ice cream and bed forts all night. He spent four hours changing his clothes before he met her Dad for dinner in the city, pulled Scott in for help when he realised he didn’t own a real tie. His grin split his face and rivalled the sun when Mr. Martin shook his hand and told him that he could see how much he loved his daughter and when Lydia left for the restroom at the end of the meal, the older man made him promise to look after his little girl.

Stiles did, with his entire heart.

He tried so hard to never break his promise, to never even come close to it. So he was there to catch Lydia when she flew off the stage with her own diploma in her hand, grinning like she owned the world - and when Stiles kissed her like he always did, full of passion and so much f*cking love, he was sure that maybe one day, they both could.

When they bought their first apartment together a few weeks after, the world was theirs. And their friends helped them move boxes, Allison’s engagement ring glinting from the sun that shone through windows that were a little too old and chipped at the frames. But it was their own little place and Isaac would crash when he argued with Malia, face down on their couch and calling them Mom and Dad when he wanted fed. But eventually Malia would collect him, face stern with hard love and she would greet Lydia with a kiss on the cheek, a protective hand on her own stomach that seemed to be growing its bump by the day.

Kira sent them postcards from whatever continent she’d landed in that week, thick envelopes laden with stamps from other countries on their doormat, filled with her own photos from her travels. Lydia would frame her favourites, hang them in the livingroom, pin others on the fridge and try not to cry over her far away friend during group skype calls.

Kira was home and Malia and Isaac had a baby boy called Finn when Stiles proposed.

It was Spring and Lydia had been cleaning, rumpled and tired and with one of Stiles’ too large shirts covering her bare legs. He’d swooped into the apartment after a lunch with Scott and Isaac, seen the gold band glinting on his best friend’s finger, watched his other balance a baby and a beer in two hands - both with a smile on their faces.

He hadn’t even made it down to one knee, just cradled the girl’s face in his own and tried really hard not to cry when he told her how much he loved her. He was sure she’d yes before he had managed to finish the question but they’d tumbled into bed, ecstatic and with the astronomic sense that everything was perfect. She wore the ring he’d hidden in his sock for months with so much pride, it hurt his heart.

And they grew older but never tired of each other, and they done it all together. They still stargazed on their roof when they knew their landlord was out of town, shoved Isaac and Malia out of the door when it was their turn to babysit Finn. They kissed like they were still teenagers and they both took so much joy in pulling the other into the shower, naked or fully clothed, it didn’t matter. They argued with heat and made up with more, spent days and weekends doing nothing but being in bed together, kissing a new spot that they were sure hadn’t been discovered.They spoke about wedding plans and Stiles turned reverent at the thought of Lydia in a white dress, kissed the pout off of her lips when he refused to tell her where he was taking her on honeymoon. And when it was late and dark and they were a little drunk, they spoke with honesty about kids and families and houses with a swing in the yard.

And they spent every day up until that point, and so many of the days that they didn’t know were yet to come, telling each other how they should have came with a warning.

She wore flowers in her hair when she walked down the aisle. Cried when her new father in law danced with her in front of all her friends and family, whispered in her ear how much his wife would have adored her.

‘Cause they were still a surprise to each other, a shock to their system that no one else on the planet could evoke. But, oh my god, how they f*cking loved it.

Stiles was a wreck every single day of her pregnancy, protected her from everything and anything - from headaches to Isaac’s overly exuberant hugs. He told all their friends that they were going to be aunts and uncles from the minute Lydia had dropped the news, on the phone to Scott with tears of complete and utter joy streaming down his cheeks, smiles that tasted like salt.

But nothing could have really prepared them.

No amount of warnings.

None at all.

But they tried together.