When' and 'We'

by bhanesidhe

Prompt/Request; "Stiles and Lydia go apartment hunting but they can't seem to agree on anything. Lots of banter, please." [helping stydia-fanfiction on tumblr fill requests in before S6 premiere, this is the 3rd of ? prompts]

Title: 'When' and 'We'

Description: Stiles and Lydia go apartment hunting but they can't seem to agree on anything. Lots of banter, please.

Genre: Slice of Life

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"Nope." Stiles said. He licked his finger and then held it up to feel the current of the wind. "I can't feel the North Wind."

"You can't feel the-?" Lydia's eye twitched.

"The North Wind," He repeated. After a pause, he avoided her steely gaze by ducking under it and skidded to another room. "Plus, over here the closet space is way too small."

Lydia could clearly hear the echo of his footfalls as he started, stopped and started again while scrambling around. She could almost hear the churning of his excuse-mill with it.

Breathing deeply, she said a silent goodbye to the beautiful loft with the comfy bay windows and then turned on the spot to follow him down the hallway. What he actually meant was that he felt the apartment listing was too far from mid-city action and maybe too near to her school. But they'd been at it all afternoon and while she wanted to respect his concerns they were running low on time, options and stupid excuses.

"I don't need a big closet," she said when she caught up with him, he had his face in the bathroom cabinet as he poked around too closely.

Startled, he turned to face her, nearly clipping his nose swinging the cabinets shut. He maintained, "I want you to have everything. I want- it's just it needs to be perfect."

"It doesn't need to be perfect," she glared. Then her gaze softened, she looked off to the side and admitted quietly, "It just needs to be ours."

It went silent. Lydia had to glance back to see if Stiles even heard her, which of course he had. He grinned like a goon, waiting for the moment their eyes connected to catch her off guard with a brief kiss. Every time, it still sent shivers everywhere. And he knew it.

"Okay," he said centimeters from her face, staring intently the way they did every time they talked about weighty things, "it'll be ours, but it should totally be better than this place. This place is a dump."

"This place is within my allowance so unless you've suddenly won the lott- don't you dare kiss me and think you can get out of an argument," she pushed him back by the shoulders but dug her nails in given that she didn't want to let go. Lydia hated letting him out of arms reach. "Stiles! Seriously. My classes start in a couple of weeks-"

"Two."

"Yes, I can count." She snapped, "If we don't find a place before then-"

The invisible threat hung in the air.

After graduation, Stiles stayed home while he completed the 600+ instructional hours required for Basic Academy before he could then begin the Extended Format Academy, where he could focus on Peace Officer training. All the while, Lydia took advantage of the weeks before school to study intensely with Deaton, while her Mom had been pushing for dorm life before the full course load began at Stanford. And then they would never, ever get laid.

"-we are cutting this very, very close." She gripped his shoulders tighter, and shook him a little.

Although he chuckled, it had a little misery behind it. "I get where you're coming from," he said, gently detaching her fingernails. While holding her hands he gripped them gently, hoping it would calm her down. It had an interesting and opposite effect. "I just think if we get a place together-"

"When," she corrected.

"-'When' we get our place together, I want it to be a place that we're going to stay at. For like a long, long, longlonglonglong while," his smile down at her was melting and gentle. "I want it to be good."

"Oh, it'll be good," with her tone deep, evocative and she kept her eyes intent, then kissed the knuckles on his hand slowly, one at a time before abruptly dropping his hand. Leaving him gap mouthed, and abandoned in a vacant bathroom she called back, "But if this place isn't good enough, then onto the next listing."

While he drove in silence Lydia prattled off listings from her phone. They had grown tired and mostly bored, even if they were happy to finally spend time together. But apartment hunting was mind numbing work.

They had gone through four listings so far-

1. One bedroom with small balcony;

- "It's a bit pricey but worth it for the hardwood floors and marble counters."

- "Lydia, this place is huge. It's like a skate park."

- "Stiles, you wouldn't dare."

- "Lydia, what else would you do with them?"

- "Oh, well I don't know Stiles. Slow dance, sit and study together, curl up and watch the view."

- "Lydia... those sound kind of boring."

- "We can't stay here, Stiles. I might throw you from the balcony."

- "Lydia, there's a balcony! Awesome! ...No, you're right. We gotta go."

2. Intimate studio, partly furnished;

- "Stiles, a murphy bed doesn't qualify as 'partly furnished.' Anyway, this place is a death trap."

- "Come on Lydia, it's not that bad."

- "Stiles... this looks like a place where a murder scene took place."

- "Lydia, it's not like there is a chalk outline on the floor."

- "That's because they changed the sheets, Stiles."

3. Student housing;

- "So, does this mean we're going to have roommates? Lydia? Lydia?"

- "Of course not, Stiles. These apartments are closer to University, lots of students rent here so they're cheaper and intimate."

- "Lydia, we're talking closet space."

- "Why is closet space relevant, Stiles?"

- "Lydia, this entire apartment is just closet space! Look, would you just watch. I can touch opposite sides at the same time."

- "Stiles, you are going to strain something- would you just? I keep telling you, that isn't krav maga."

4. A studio, with a full bathroom;

- "It's not that bad, Lydia. There are advantages to living closer to the city, we'll spend less on gas. Stores and restaurants are closer."

- "Stiles, I'm concerned. What if there's a fire?"

- "There's a fire detector, Lydia."

- "What about gas leak?"

- "You know, they make a detector for that too. There's a detector for pretty much everything these days. Did you know there are metal detectors, psychic detectors, lie detectors- did you know there are plants that can detect diamonds?"

- "Stiles, what if the milk goes bad?"

- "Wha...?"

- "Anosmia; the completed loss of your sense of smell due to nerve cells sending misinformation to your brain. Stiles, if you can't smell what is wrong with this place you've got to be suffering some sort of brain damage."

- "Okay, alright so there is a little something... minty in the air. Musky, with a hint of toxicity. Fine, onto the next place."

The previously selected loft had been Lydia's choice but even though it was Stiles' turn, his heart wasn't in it, so he said 'yes' to any random suggestion.

"This is a 5 story walk-up," Lydia called up from the landing between the lobby and the first floor.

"I know, but it's in your budget and has got two bedrooms!" he chirped already zipping around the bend of the third floor.

Lydia caught up a minute later and glared the Realtor down a peg before she would let him judge her for walking across the threshold barefoot or the suede pumps dangling off her fingers.

Stiles laid on the floor of the second and much smaller glorified closet/bedroom. With his eyes closed and hands folded onto his chest, he lay in the center of the room with all the windows open leaving crisscross highlights that contrasted his flannel and made him look like a fiery mythical creature appearing from the ether onto horribly cheap, hardware store bought linoleum.

"Why do we need a second bedroom?" Lydia said a little breathlessly after closing the bedroom door.

He peeked out of one eye, "it's for when Scott stays over."

"Oh," she came over and stood beside him, glowering down mildly. It was such a practical and Stiles answer, it seemed impossible to argue. But if anyone could find a way. "Did you look at the rest of the apartment?"

"Pfft."

"The kitchen has a crack in the wall behind the refrigerator, rot over the sink and only one burner working on the gas stove."

"Pfft."

"The one bathroom only has a stand up shower."

"Pfft."

Oh, she knew how to win this. Easily.

Lydia stepped directly over Stiles, her feet spread on either side of his waist, "Stiles. I like to have baths."

His eyes snapped open, half in panic, and half in excitement to see how the window at her back made her silhouette cut a crisp line out of the backdrop and she gazed down like some transcendent mystery.

Most of her face was bathed in the hues of indecipherable red and orange the sun cast through the strands of her hair. But he could make out the dark and menacing glint to her eye, the warning scathing arch to her brow just as she lowered herself to straddle him.

"Stiles," she said, her voice controlled and the epitome of calm as she grinded once against him, "when I need to relax, I like long, hot baths."

"Holy-fuwhat I uhm-" his hands flew to his face, his palms pushing hard against his eyes to reach back in and restart his brain.

With a lower octave to her voice, she lifted herself onto her knees, removing her weight off of him entirely, "but what if I come home and I'm so tired from climbing alll those stairs. Without a bath, I might not get all the kinks out, I wouldn't be able to do anything except go straight to sleep."

"Bad, bad, evil stairs," Stiles replied, peering from under his hands and his voice cracked a little.

The broker knocked on the door before entering, although he did enter before being told he could. They didn't stand at a rush, but they declined putting in an application for the place.

Then, it was Lydia's turn to pick the next listing, and after a 15 minute drive (that should have been 5 minutes, but Stiles took all the wrong turns), they arrived at a very foreign neighborhood. The listing was an enormous restored Victorian home. The owner chose to rent the rooms/floors individually, which meant the bathroom was grand but happened to be down the hall.

"The bathroom is fine," Lydia insisted. But from behind her Stiles moped, his hands on her waist and chin rested on her shoulder as he did so.

"I just think that if it matters to you so much...," he whispered by her ear.

She shifted to glare at him over her shoulder, "I think we all know what matters to you right now." She stepped out of his hold and continued to walk through the apartment's features.

"Whose fault is that!" he made a flinging, accusatory gesture only when he knew she was out of sight.

"Look. It has wall to wall carpeting." Her voice carried back to him.

"Which could have mites. Or toxic fibers if it's old enough," he grumbled loud enough for the neighbors to hear down the hall and up both flights of stairs.

"There's an alcove by the kitchen large enough for your investigation board, and maybe we could squeeze in a desk. And there's a little converted sunroom," she poked her head back into the room. "Don't sulk. It isn't attractive."

Stiles kicked at the floor, shoving his hands into his jean pockets and sulked anyway. Then slowly, very slowly lifted his head, a smile teasing the edge of his lips. "So the rest of the time, I'm attractive?"

She rolled her eyes in despair of him, "I just wanted you to see the sunroom. Because I think we can make it into a second bedroom."

"Oh." In an instant, his expression turned soft and kind. "You'd give up a bathroom for a second bedroom."

"Don't make a big thing of it," she shrugged delicately, "it's more convenient than making room for him in our bed."

While making slow strides over to her, he asked her seriously and with a penetrating gaze "are you seriously saying you'd now consider apartments so Scott could stay with us or that you'd even consider letting Scott sometimes maybe crash in my bed?"

Stiles finished his idiot question less than an inch from Lydia's face and she looked appalled. She huffed in offense and had to shove him back before correcting him snappishly. "Our."

"What?"

"Our. Bed." She glared full on, sending chills down his spine until he nodded in obedience. With that she stepped primly around him and headed toward door.

After a moment, Stiles spun around in confusion. "Wait. Was that a yes?"

"Yes." Her voice floated down the hall as she began her exit from the place.

After a moment of misplaced excitement, Stiles gave it another thought and ran after her. After stumbling down stairwell he burst through the front door, calling over to her as she climbed back into the Jeep, "was that a yes to Scott in our apartment or Scott in our bed?"

"Yes," she sighed, she sounded deeply annoyed but her face said she was loving this. She smirked to watch him blush, spin around several times in indecision before he figured out how to close the door behind him.

The noise in the Jeep was uproarious in the respect that Stiles would not shut up and Lydia mostly scrolled hmming-and-hrumphing through listings.

"You're going to have to pick one eventually." Leaning against the headrest, she glanced over at him. While at a red light, she thrust out her hand and showed him the rest of the listings they'd pre-selected.

"How?! How could I possibly?" He made cringing gestures to the air. "My requirements have been completely changed up. How was I supposed to know there would be bathtub needs and second bedroom expectations and no walk-up demands? How are we supposed to get this done in one day?"

The sun setting made it look as though there were starbursts along his profile, tracing him with a sense of ephemerality. It was difficult to put into words the sense of déjà vu she got riding around with him. But there were moments, when he dropped her at her front door and especially when he took the key from the ignition that wracked her nerves terribly. But the sun was setting and her Mom would expect her home in time for dinner. They would have the talk again, 'are your expectations realistic', 'dorm room application deadlines are coming up', and 'sure, Stiles saved your life but do you want to entrust your future to him?'

"What?" Stiles asked, his body tense and face contorted with unease. "Why are you looking at me like that? You're not getting weird feelings, are you? Should I turn around and go back to town-"

"No. Nothing like that." With a sigh she dragged her eyes away and looked down to her hands, they rested empty and upturned on her lap. "I just want to go home already."

"Oh." And how one syllable could sound so crestfallen. Stiles' voice became small as he rattled through the words quickly, "sure. We can do this another day. We have time. I mean I don't actually but I could make up the time some other, extended extension later, maybe but if whenever there's an extra day we can get a few-"

"I just want to go home to you," she reached across the divide and clasped his hand in hers.

"Oh." The same syllable turned on its head. Stiles struggled to keep his eyes on her and the road simultaneously. Taking his hand back for only a moment, he shifted gears because pulling over seemed like the wisest option.

"Lydia... I don't know what I'm supposed to say here. I want that, too. It's exhausting putting in instructional hours, then working with my Dad and helping Scott. Every second I'm with them I'm thinking of you."

"Really?" she threw him a look of distaste. "That is your choice of words?"

He chuckled lightly and rephrased, "I would just like to have to think of you less- not think of you less. I'd like that when I'm thinking of you for those thoughts not to be 'when am I going to see her again?'"

"I'm not apologizing for my obligations being-"

"You shouldn't."

"My schedule is important-"

"Extremely!" holding her hand, he ran his thumb along the back of her knuckles.

Like Lydia, Stiles suffered a dreaded sense of déjà vu along their drives, during in-between moments when things were calm, when they coasted along and their potential destination threatened and whether he meant to or not, he would get lost. When they'd finally arrive, instead of the impulse to say he loved her, Stiles watched her face like he desperately needed to memorize every feature before he would kiss her soundly for what would end up being hours.

Due to their personal action-packed history 'Goodbye' and 'I Love You' approximated the same thing, to dire extents. They felt like there would be less goodbyes if they lived together, and as a result the other part would come easier and there would be more of it.

Eventually they scheduled their 'Goodbyes' into their errand running because they'd last longer than the errands themselves.

"We need to find a place already." He sighed meaningfully, she squeezed his hand back in understanding and then his slow smile started to creep into a mischievous one. "Because we need to find a place more comfortable than my back seat."

Although her brow arched critically, Lydia's smile started slowly then built into a radiant one, "your priorities are beginning to change into the right direction."

"So, the place needs to have you and it'd be cool if I'm there. I'd be nice if we could fit a bed, but that's not mandatory." He whispered moving forward, she took it as a cue to lean toward him as well.

"Stiles, I have a Queen Size bed. It's coming with me or I'm not coming-"

"Room for a Queen Size bed is necessary everything else is trimmings!" he practically proclaimed it.

"Alright, how about this? A bedroom, possibly two with a full bathroom and where you can feel the North Wind-"

"Screw the North Wind!"

"Fine, some place equal distance between school and town so we can check in on our parents as often as we want without being needy or suspicious."

"Pfft, I never said I wanted to check in on my Dad," he tried to make it sound like a complaint and not gratitude.

"You never had to," she sounded quietly pleased with herself.

"Of course not, you're so smart," he shifted in his seat uncomfortably and she took a hand away just to cup his cheek. He stared at her while she soothed away the stress lines at the corners of his eyes. The sun disappeared far over the horizon along the road just like they were supposed to be, but while Stiles looked so unguarded Lydia couldn't tear her gaze away and she wouldn't move an inch without him. He wondered aloud, "I bet you already have this figured out."

Starting to chew her lip, her chest squeezed together momentarily and she gave the tiniest, almost imperceptible nod.

"You do? As in actually, factually have a possible solution for our situation!" A spark lit in his eyes, and he shot across his seat and practically landed in hers. At that she shoved him back with both hands and sent him rocking back into his seat, still grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Stiles, it isn't ideal," she said his name in an insufferable groan but at this point it sounded to him like a siren's song. "I know some property nearby. But you would have to pay rent, too. Not half the rent, actual rent."

"Absolutely!" he started at a shake then he remembered to nod, as enthusiasm almost dislodged his head entirely.

"They might be willing to forgo your background check," her tone sounded less than enthused, and the side-eyed glare she gave him implied it was a spectacularly bad idea, even if it was her idea. "Especially considering looking into your background displays a concerning amount of property damage and crime scene related activity."

"Convenient. Go on." Stiles slowed his enthusiasm minutely, sat a little more upright but felt nothing could stop him from grinning.

"I'd still have to coerce the owner that we could pay off the mortgage monthly, so we'd have to get a roommate."

Stiles went rigid with tension, "you want to rent the Lake House from your Mom? Actually, willingly dealing with your Mom?"

"It makes sense." She finally cracked a smile, although there was no humor in it. "We can rent a room to Scott, maybe Malia down the line. There are enough rooms for everyone." Her voice grew in conviction, it was her turn to cross the divide and she moved like a stealthy cat, leaving him to fumble back like a mouse. "Come on, the master bedroom is already Banshee scream proof."

"That's-that's a brilliant valid genius inarguable argument you've got rolling off your tongue there, Lydia." The words kept slipping from his mind to his mouth in a panic impulse to do something, anything but she took his options away when she hovered over him, her arms on each side of head, her chest heaving slightly higher than his and her mouth dipping down. Lydia captured his kiss, she pressed hard at first but softer as he yielded to her insistence that he accept defeat.

Stiles felt he couldn't reach to pull the lever and drop the seat fast enough, but instead he launched them back at an awkward angle and too fast speed. Stiles' knee hit the car horn twice and Lydia's forehead knocked against the door but they didn't give up. While Lydia snapped apart their seat belts, he yanked at the parking brake, all while her mouth played havoc against his ear and Stiles' free hand caressed her thigh, coaxing her to settle over him without tumbling.

"Too many buttons," she grumbled in a whisper against his mouth. He laughed lightly, gazing up for a brief moment, his vision nearly blurring for their closeness but the heat in his eyes could be clearly read.

"You are not one to talk," he then kissed a line along her jaw to her throat, while their hands tangled between them.

Their competition continued, as to which one would win out at displaying the more/less self-control throughout, her tiny buttons or his many layers. Unsurprisingly, someone cheated. Stiles inhaled sharply when Lydia's fingers reached his skin, as she tugged at the top of his jeans and rucked up fabric of his T-shirt. Kissing her was always a winning play, so he held her harder and kissed her deeper to stifle her giggles of success.

Often their pace went from frenzied to tender until it settled in every cell and reminded their rushed hearts beating aloud, 'this wouldn't disappear.'

Smooth and steady, Stiles swayed like a melody so that she found him instinctively, and they moved together, closer with every motion. When Stiles slowly sat forward, he steadied himself on an elbow and kept the other arm wrapped around her waist. Leaning back in his grip, her hands came to rest on the side of his face, and she glanced at him quizzically.

"Do you have the keys?" he asked, catching his breath. He looked thoroughly roughed up, his hair afforest, his lips molested and eyes made radiantly excitable even though the sun had long since disappeared. A natural phenomenon captured between her unsteady fingertips.

"To the Lake House?" She shifted back further, her mind elsewhere and trying to catch up. Her expression was made of dusk by comparison, her eyes shadowy through long lashes, her lips full and lipstick virtually wasted away.

"Well, I wasn't thinking to a chastity belt," he chuckled and she scowled at him, glaring a warning. "Yeah, I'm thinking the Lake House."

"Why do you want the keys?" Her eyes scrunched up in distrust of him and she ran her hands along him, settling her fingers at the nape of his neck. She made certain the sensation made him a little jumpy, for good and bad reasons.

"I was wondering, if you had the keys, then maybe we should take advantage of the time and look at the space." Stiles proposed in a level and very professional voice while he struggled to keep his eyes averted and not at all focused on the fact that her blouse remained open. What started as a twitch spread into a crocodile smile, "As a first time renter, I'd like to see what I'm getting into? I heard there's a bedroom."

"There's a few, actually." Lydia definitely noticed and readjusted her position, easily flinging her mussed hair out of her face, over her shoulder and exposing the highlight from her neck, over her shoulder, along her collar and over her cleavage. Her voice was raw but maintained her cockiness "That is not a bad idea, Stiles."

When he was dumbstruck and silent in response, Lydia realized the best thing would probably be to get them on the road quickly. And while that would only really work if she climbed off of him, she couldn't imagine moving without telling him how much she loved him. It was on the tip of her tongue, and she had no doubt he could see it in her eyes because they recognized what those words looked like hanging in the air. Stiles nodded, kissed the sides of her face and it wasn't until she held him up close she realized she'd anxiously dug her nails in.

In the settled night, reseated in front of the Jeep, Lydia regained composure while looking for the extra keys in her purse and only sat back once she found them. Stiles snorted in amusement while he reached over and re-buttoned her blouse, which was only fair since it was technically his fault. Before he brought his hand back to the wheel, Lydia caught it and held it between them. She held it firmly and said meaningfully, "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Well," Stiles studied her face, then smiled briefly, a spark of confidence in that. The Jeep had only so much room for all their love anyway, they needed to move to a bigger place. "If we keep to our schedule, we'll never have to."