Lydia's immunity means much more than the explanations they''ve come up with, much more than any of the half assed theories they've put together or put thought to, really. It means so much more.
But none of them stop to think about it until the day when she gets into this frankly bizarre argument with Derek over their territory (everyone accepts that Lydia is right but Derek, who is just too proud to admit it) and every single window in the reformed Hale house shatter, shards of glass flying everywhere.
Stiles is saved from being sliced up like a piece of meat for some exotic dish by Derek's Alpha speed that that he uses to throw him to the floor and the solid built body he uses to cover him with.
It is maybe a little excessive, but it works wonders towards saving all of Stiles' precious limbs.
Lydia is a sorceress, a natural magic practitioner. Stiles would call her a witch, but he's seen the thunderous way she looked at Jackson when he called her that.
He really really likes his body the way it is arranged right now.
Derek, is maybe not as fond of his body.
Or he is maybe a little dumber than expected.
Or, Stiles' favorite theory, too freaking lofty and authoritarian from time to time for his own good.
Lydia's text says, 'oops, I may have bewitched the Alpha for being a jerk'.
Which he thinks, upon arriving to Derek's house (Lydia already gone with the wind) and taking a look at the situation, is a bit of an understatement and a clear underestimation of the situation.
'Lydia, WTF. At least tell me you know how to reverse it.'
'Probably. And shut up, I could've done something truly horrible to him, you know. Turned him into an inanimate object, for example.'
'Yeah, no. It's not that I think having an uterus sucks or anything. I really, really don't, believe me. But Derek is going to kill all of us. Starting with me. Just for being conveniently here.
Thank you for that one, btw.'
Derek as a girl looks, surprisingly, not as hot (in a conventional way, at least) as people would imagine.
Not that Stiles has thought about it. At length. More than once. Or twice.
His eyebrows still resemble little overfed caterpillars, his jaw is as strong and masculine as ever. His nose is thinner, fits a little better, and his eyes are bigger, with longer dark dark lashes. But that's about it.
If you ignore the impressive set of boobs filling his white wife beater, and the filthy obscene way his jeans threaten to slid right off of him to land unceremoniously on the floor, showing hips sharp enough to cut glass.
Which, okay, not as hot as it could be because scowl and Derek's permanently angry features, but still hot.
That might be because, well, it's Derek, and he's just physically incapable of not being at least a little hot in any form he takes.
(Or maybe that's Stiles with his over abundance of hormones and the fact that Derek could probably be an inanimate object and still turn him on.)
"You might want to consider getting a bra for those." He points out, gesturing towards Derek's general chest area.
"Stiles," Derek starts, with this soft voice that is just barely higher than Lydia's.
"I know, I know, shutting up."
Derek generally sucks at adjusting (which he has to, because Lydia will have a reverse spell, yes, but it'll take some time), and it is pretty damn funny to watch.
Until he incurs Lydia's wrath one too many times and it happens to him, too.
And he has to come out to his dad about the supernatural aspect of his life because how the hell is he supposed to keep his breasts and his vagina and his frankly rally really girly voice a secret from him for however long it takes for Lydia to give them back their bodies?
And, okay, he menstruates. Something that he's never given much thought but is uncomfortable and makes him feel weird and bloated, and just a little crappy.
And guys either dismiss him or feel entitled to telling him how he isn't pretty enough for them or leer openly at him and they make him feel like shit when he rejects their advances. When it doesn't make him feel on edge and in danger and paranoid. He knows that nothing will probably happen to him; Derek is never too far away, really, and he is actually even more badass now than he was as a man, all elasticity and feral viciousness and female Alpha power.
But it could. He feels like it could. And like maybe if somebody were to try something and Derek wasn't around, they'd have a good fucking chance of being successful.
God. Men are dicks.
(Derek agrees non verbally.)
It takes Lydia three weeks to find a reverse spell. She doesn't go looking for them to cast it when she does, however. They just wake up one morning with the junk they'd been born with inside their respective trunks.
She texts him (and Derek, quite possibly), 'you don't even need to thank me.'
Stiles jerks off just to remember what it felt like to do it with A penis instead of a vagina. Compares experiences, how the movements are different, how he feels things different, how the orgasm is different.
Then he takes a shower, makes breakfast for his dad (who is still somewhat awkward around him, around all of these incredible and dangerous truths that Stiles has been hiding from him for the longest fucking time, but still pats him on the shoulder with affection when he comes to the kitchen), and heads to Derek's house.
And they spend the day together, quietly side by side and enjoying the sensation of finally being in the right body again. Because, okay, being a woman is not bad at all, but he missed his fucking body, the clumsy traitorous one that'd been getting him through life for the past seventeen years.
And Derek clearly feels the same.
"I won't say I'd gladly go back to being a woman," he says to Lydia the next time he sees her. "But it is hard and gross going back to being a guy and being friends with other guys now that I know what being a woman feels like, and when you come to realize how we are all privileged sexist scumbags and all of you are practically saints for putting up with us. Man, you are all so tough and badass."
"Stiles. Shut up. You weren't a body was that of a woman for a week and a half. Two weeks, tops. You haven't experienced half of it."
And, yeah, she's right. He had a woman's body for only two weeks; not even three weeks like Derek, and even though some parts sucked a lot he shouldn't really be spewing all this shit about coming to understand how hard it is to be a woman.
Because he is pretty sure he still has no fucking idea.
"Oh my God, you're right. The next time I manage to outdick myself you have my full permission to kick me repeatedly in the nuts with your prettiest toughest high heel shoes until I cry like a baby. Not that you really need my permission or to kick me in the nuts to make me cry, of course."
"Of course I don't. But believe me, I'll still hold you to that one."
Lydia's smile is terrifying in its gleeful honesty, and Stiles could actually hug her.
(She doesn't kick him in the nuts until he bleeds the next time he is a jerk, but she does make him spend an entire afternoon as a golden retriever, to the amusement of everyone but Derek, who is stuck as a Siamese cat; and Jackson, who she turns into a lizard.
Oh, Lydia; magnificent, magnificent goddess.)
