I don't own Teen Wolf or its characters… but it'd be nice to have Parrish's fire power because in 4 short months, winter is coming. Lol.

Lydia

I wish I'd driven my own car… thought Lydia, fuming as she sat in the back of Stiles' jeep, listening to Scott and Kira, who were sitting beside her, release labored breaths and groans of passion. She didn't think it could possibly get any worse than Malia's seat rocking back and hitting her knees every few minutes, but then it did. She was getting nudged by butt cheeks and elbows, and when she heard the screech of a zipper, she knew that this was not the place for her to be. "Let's go to the drive-in," they said. "It'll be fun," they said. She couldn't even see the movie because Malia's sweaty bosom was blocking her view.

Not wanting to see what this moment would evolve into, she excused herself to the concession stand. Sneaking out of the jeep undetected was too easy a feat. In all honesty, they probably wouldn't notice her absence for a while. Scott and Kira fell horizontal, taking her seat as soon as it was available. She figured she'd better make this an extended trip to the concession stand.

Milk duds, popcorn, and coke were on her list of things to get so that she could sit and watch "Kill me Good" alone and in silence, since she didn't have a radio to tune into the drive-in's sound station. At least that was the plan, however, the bar that she spied while waiting in line proved to be a lot more interesting that any buttery, sugary, concessions.

It was a little brick hole in the wall with neon beer lights in its murky windows, a bouncer out front, and beer bottles lined around it like a fence. The subtle thud of music made it impossible not cross that street.

She scurried, adjusting the flowy silk skirt that stopped a little above the knee. When she reached the front door she presented her license proudly to the bouncer so that he could see she was legal. The bouncer was wearing black, the universal bouncer color, and when he took Lydia's ID she could tell he had to do the math on her age. After a second he gave it back, stamped her hand, and she entered. The soles of her strappy heels stuck to the floor that was downright adhesive because of the beer from Friday nights passed.

People were dancing , hands were on bodies in interesting places, and laughter was a background singer to the music playing. Girls in dresses the size of shirts were trying to talk over the noise, while wallowing on guys either not interested enough or too interested. Bottles clinked and the air stunk of cigarettes, cheap beer, sweat, and too much Victoria's Secret body spray. It was the perfect place to disappear. To become someone else besides the friend that was always invited along out of pity and habit.

It hurt her to see Stiles with Malia.

Not because she wanted him for herself. No, she loved that Malia cherished Stiles and protected him. It hurt because their relationship, more than any other, reminded her of something she'd been lacking in her life for a long time.

She didn't want what she'd had before with Jackson. It'd started off real and pure and then turned into something crude and greedy. His thirst for power and her need to satiate him so that he'd stay had destroyed them both in the end.

With Aiden there was sex, but not much in the way of conversation and getting to really know one another. Things were too complicated, they had to hide, and then he'd been killed.

Sometimes Lydia felt like she must be insane to want to get into a relationship again with two of them ending horribly, but she couldn't help it. For reasons that she couldn't explain she wanted to get back up on the horse. It wouldn't be the same as the last time though. She was determined…

This time she wanted conversation, laughter, butterflies in her stomach, fire in her blood, arguments that ended in tears and got resolved in passion, someone to love and cherish… a friend.

Jordan Parrish instantly came to mind. After finding out that he wasn't human they'd been getting close. At first it was just to study the bestiary, but she found that the more time they spent together, the more it became less of a task and more something she looked forward to doing. She got excited about her time with Parrish. He brought the donuts, apparently cops get them free, and she brought the coffee. They'd eat and sip coffee and chat at these research sessions. It was here that she learned he actually had a sense of a humor, a teasing; biting sense of humor that stung a little but was too funny not to laugh at. It was also when she learned that he was stubborn and difficult.

She'd started savoring his scent and melting into the warmth of his welcoming hugs. She locked away every nugget that he gave about his life before Beacon hills in hopes that one day the fragments of information would paint a clearer picture about who he was. Lydia, unbeknownst to herself, was falling in love with Deputy Jordan Parrish

Lydia stood watching the people in the bar dance and talk and drink for a little. She'd been asked to dance by a guy with a Caesar cut and a vacation shirt, but she respectfully declined. After being asked to dance a couple more times by men with equally bad haircuts and clothing choices, she decided to sit at the bar.

With some luck, she convinced the bartender, a girl who looked to be about her age, that she was 21, and she ordered a rum punch. It had sounded good on the menu. However, when she got it, it was in a huge un-garnished class. She took a whiff of it, and it smelled sugary. When she took a sip, the burn of it took her breath away and she dreaded taking another sip, but $7 for a drink was too much for her to waste. She puckered her lips to the glass. As she started to tip it to sip more, it was gently taken from her by someone with strong hands. She recognized those hands.

"I know for a fact you are not old enough to be drinking this." Said the owner of the hand.

She'd seen Jordan Parrish in civilian clothes before, but he worked so much that it was a rare treat. Tonight though, he was wearing jeans with a crisp white v-neck that showed off the peaks of his pecks and his strong and capable arms. She snatched the drink back, causing a few beads of the red liquid to drip down her wrist.

She took another hard to swallow sip.

"I'm sorry sir, do I know you?" She asked, with a wink.

"Sorry, you just reminded me of a girl I know. An eighteen year old girl who would definitely be toast after a drink that big and strong."

"Well, maybe your friend, this girl, likes her drinks big and strong…. Like she likes her men."

They both erupted in laughter and she put the drink down… actually grateful for and excuse the chuck the damned thing.

"You said you were going to the movies tonight." He said, eyebrow raised.

"I did go, but they started making out. I'm pretty sure Kira and Scott are having sex in the spot I was sitting in. I didn't want to be a voyeur and the fifth wheel, so I left."

"It was so bad that it drove you to drink?"

"No. I was in line for Milk duds and Popcorn and I saw this place. I'm eighteen so I thought… why not?"

"That doesn't explain the booze."

"Oh, that. It sounded good on the menu. Now it's my turn to ask the questions. I thought you were going to comb through the bestiary and stay in for that horrible scary movie marathon tonight?"

"I was, but research isn't as fun without Lydia Martin, Professional smartass."

"I am not a smartass."

"You think you know everything…" He said.

"I know for a fact that I don't."

"I rest my case." Said Jordan, sniffing Lydia's drink. "You're not going to finish that thing are you? Because as an officer of the law I might have to arrest and book you."

"I paid $7 for this thing."

"What is it?"

"A rum punch. I thought it'd be cute with an umbrella and cherries… I just didn't expect such a big glass, or so much rum."

"It smells like turpentine."

"It probably tastes like turpentine."

Her face was on fire, and not because it was hot in the club. It was something that started happening now when Jordan Parrish came around.

She was happy to have him be there to keep her company. They sat on the barstool talking and sharing her rum punch, though she drank most of it and felt it. He was unaffected, but she guessed that was because he was so much bigger than she was and because of what he was. Scott and the others weren't affected by alcohol either.

"Come on, we're going to miss the song." Said Lydia, already starting to sway and stagger as she tried to pull Parrish up. Her effort didn't even cause him to budge.

"No. I'm not good at dancing. I'll ruin your heels and probably fracture your feet." He said.

"I'm willing to risk it. Please?" She asked, moving beside him so that she could place her chin on his shoulder.

He deliberated and rolled his eyes.

"Fine." He said.

Lydia had to try hard to mask her grin of victory.

When they got out on the floor she realized that he'd lied to her. Not good at dancing, my ass! He was practically a professional ballroom dancer.

She pressed her face into his chest to feel his body heat against her cheek. That, and the way his hand warmed the small of her back in the crop top she was wearing made her feel like she was on fire. Her head was starting to spin a little, but that didn't matter because she knew Parrish wouldn't let her fall.

One song ended and others came right behind it, just as slow and brooding and it was just fine because she never wanted this moment to end. Especially when he held her tighter and she was completely engulfed in him… his heat and his scent. The smell of him was strong enough to drown out the cigarettes, the beer, the sweat, and the body spray. It suddenly became like it was just them on the floor and her whole body started to feel like she'd been injected with helium.

"So, I have a confession." Said Lydia.

"What? You're a serial killer?" Said Jordan.

"No. If I died, I would be okay with this being heaven."

"Are you calling me an angel?" He asked.

"No. I'm saying… this is perfect."

He stopped dancing and looked down at Lydia, pushing her curly strawberry blonde tresses from her face as he kissed her forehead.

"Don't tarnish your heaven with me. I probably don't belong there."

He pulled away, taking his warmth as he headed for the door. His face, usually blank if he wasn't smiling, was contorted in confusion, and maybe a little hurt and anger. She couldn't understand why, so she followed after him, standing in front of his car while he fumbled for his keys

"What are you talking about? You couldn't tarnish anything… I… I love you Jordan."

"You don't know what you're saying. You're drunk…"

"I am not drunk." She said, taking a step back and stumbling.

"Okay, so I may have had too much to drink, but my mind is clear and I know what I feel, because I felt it before I even had that stupid rum punch."

"I'm gonna go." He said, opening his car door and putting one leg in.

"I care about you."

"Lydia. I'll catch you around. Do you have a ride?"

"Yes."

"Bye Lydia."

He pulled out of the spot and Lydia stood in the parking lot of the bar, sobbing like she was a child getting shots. The bouncer shook his head at her. A few passersby, some who were a little drunk clicked their tongues at her and made remarks like: poor baby, and it always hurts the first time. Getting tired of those remarks, Lydia started back across the street. The movie should have been ending now anyway.

She found that walking was a little tricky, let alone walking in heels, so she went barefoot, back across where she presented her ticket and stopped for the Milk Duds that she'd passed up earlier.

To mask her breathe she popped a few in her mouth. She also wiped away her running makeup and dried her tears. She didn't need anybody she knew seeing her cry.

The windows were fogged on the jeep like it'd taken a long hot shower. Lydia knocked on the window and Malia's hand cleared the fog off the glass. Her hair was tussled, her face was cherry red, and she had a look of sincere confusion and amazement on her face as she spotted Lydia.

"Lydia… You… how'd you get out of the car?" Asked Malia, truly surprised.

"I snuck out for milk duds." Said Lydia, trying not to sound as deflated as she felt.

She climbed back into the jeep and fell into her seat, letting her head fall against the glass. The fog on the windows was starting to clear, the movie ended with a final explosion, clearly hinting towards another sequel, and then the credits started to roll. Shirts were buttoned up, hair was smoothed down, and Lydia sat, cramming chocolate covered caramel pieces into her mouth one by one. By the time Stiles dropped her off at home the box was gone and it took every ounce of effort she had not to walk with a sway or let her words slur as she said goodbye.

She went straight to her room. Stripping off the crop top, that now smelled like Parrish and that bar. She slipped off her flowy above the knee skirt and kicked off her heels. She showered, and brushed her teeth twice to remove all that caramel. All the while she couldn't stop replaying the night in her head. They'd shared something, she wasn't crazy. For whatever reason Parrish was choosing to ignore and deny it. At least that was what she thought at first.

It wasn't long before she found herself kneeling at the toilet, throwing up and dry heaving. She stayed there for most of the night. In between the moments where she wasn't vomiting, she replayed the night's events in her head, and she decided that she had to imagine it all. Her desperation must have made her see what she wanted to see, instead of what was really there.

Once her stomach was settled enough to remove herself from the toilet she brushed her teeth again and went back to bed. For hours, until a little past daybreak she lay there mourning the friendship she probably lost, damning herself for doing something so embarrassing, and crying because no matter how much she hated to admit it… she wanted Jordan Parrish to love her.

If she could have erased the night's events she would gladly drink ten gallons of rum punch. Even the taste of turpentine is preferable to that of rejection.