This was inspired by a post on tumblr by amberemberglow, and I figured we needed something cute after everything that's happening on the show. I hope you enjoy it!

I don't own Teen Wolf

Stiles stood in front of the classroom doorway, taking deep breaths to keep himself calm. He really, really didn't wanna go in there.

Everyone said that things needed to get back to normal. That it would get easier if you went about the normal routine, but Stiles didn't agree. He didn't want the routine. It was the routine he had with his mom. He didn't want normal, because nothing should be normal ever again after watching his mom fight so hard to live for him and his dad but still lose, because the world sucked that way.

His mom was dead, and no "routine" or "normal" would ever change that.

"Hey, kid," his dad put a hand on his shoulder, crouching down to look him in the eye. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to. We can wait a few more days."

Stiles looked into his dad's eyes, which were red from crying. His dad had tried to be strong, but Stiles knew that he was struggling. The other night when he had gotten up to go to the bathroom, he heard his dad crying in his room, and he saw the empty bottles in the trashcan. If anyone else looked at Sheriff Stilinski, he would've seemed like he was slowly getting better, but Stiles knew his dad too well to think that. His parents loved each other way too much for his dad to ever be okay.

Stiles knew his dad was trying to be strong, but he need someone to be strong for him, too. That's what Stiles was determined to do. He had gotten a little bit better with his panic attacks, and he had been able to control his tears. Someone needed to be there for his dad, and Stiles had decided that it was going to be him.

"I'll be okay, Dad," he said, lifting up his chin.

"Are you sure you don't want to wait until Scott gets over his stomach bug?" his dad asked him.

Stiles hesitated. It would be a lot easier if Scott was here, but Mrs. McCall had called early that morning to tell them that Scott was sick.

But Stiles needed to be strong for his dad, and that meant getting as close to "normal" as possible.

"No," he replied. "It's okay."

His dad nodded and pulled him into a hug. "I love you, buddy."

"I love you, too, Dad," Stiles muttered into his dad's shoulder, holding him tightly. After a minute, he let go, and his dad stood up and opened the door to the classroom.

Mrs. Reynolds, a kind, middle-aged woman, stopped writing on the board and looked toward the door, along with the entire class.

"Stiles," Mrs. Reynolds smiled warmly. "Please, take a seat."

Stiles walked to his desk, looking down so he didn't have to look at anyone. He didn't like the look that people had been giving him since his mom died, they made him feel weird.

Mrs. Reynolds brought him some worksheets that everyone was doing, and instructed the class to start on them. They were basic penman-ship and a spelling list which Stiles was grateful for.

He watched as his dad talked to Mrs. Reynolds in a hushed voice, and the teacher nodded sadly, reassuring his dad of whatever they were talking about. Probably Stiles, of course, but one never knew.

His dad waved at him before he left, and Stiles waved back with a half-smile before turning back to his work. He had to show his dad that he would be okay.

After a few minutes of working, he looked at the empty seat to his left. That's where Scott usually sat, and by now Scott would ask him a question, even if just to get them talking. But he wasn't here, so Stiles had no one to talk to, and was forced to try and keep his attention on the papers in front of him. He was done a lot faster than usual because of it, which he knew was dangerous.

If he didn't have any work to do, than he didn't have anything to focus on. If he didn't have anything to focus on, he would get bored. If he got bored, he always ended up in trouble.

He folded his hands in front of himself as his leg started bouncing of its own accord. He looked down at his spelling words and read them over again.

His eyes stopped on the word 'sunset'. Stiles liked sunsets. They made the sky explode in different colors. His mom loved to sit out there and watch the colors change and transform as the sun went down. She told him that the sun had to rest, just like people, and that the sunset was when it was most creative, which is why it made all the beautiful colors.

But now his mom couldn't watch the sunsets with him anymore.

He took a deep breath. No, he couldn't think about that. He couldn't have a panic attack in the middle of class. They would call his dad. Stiles wasn't being strong for his dad if he was having panic attacks.

He closed his eyes and took another deep breath, calming himself down.

"Are you okay?"

His eyes snapped open at the whisper. He looked to the right, where a little, strawberry blonde was looking at him curiously. Her hair was pulled back in a braid, and she was wearing a white collared shirt with a pink sweater on top. Everyone said that redheads look bad in pink, but this girl could look beautiful in anything.

"Yeah," he whispered back, nodding slowly. "I'm fine, Lydia."

"Are you sure?" she asked, her green eyes wide with concern.

"Yeah," he nodded again. "Just bored."

Her eyes narrowed slightly as the bell rang for lunch.

He shot up from his seat, grabbing his lunchbox from his backpack and heading with the crowd to the lunchroom.

Sitting at his usual table, he pulled out his lunch. He was sitting alone, because Scott and him usually kept to themselves.

Not having anyone to talk to sucked. He felt really bad about leaving Scott by himself for two weeks, because of ten minutes was like this, he couldn't imagine what it was like for that much longer.

Then a pink Hello Kitty lunchbox was placed on the table beside his Iron Man one. "Mind if I sit with you?"

He looked up to find Lydia standing there confidently.

"Y-yeah," he said. "If you want."

She sat down next to him and pulled out her own lunch, which consisted of grilled cheese, Sun Chips, and a bottle of Sunny D. They ate in silence for a few moments before Stiles had to break it.

"So why aren't you sitting with your friends?" he asked, looking towards Jackson, Danny, and the rest of their little group.

She shrugged. "All they talk about is sports and boy stuff."

"So you decide to sit with a boy?" he asked, confused.

She shrugged again. "I figured you wouldn't tease me," she stated matter-of-factly.

"About what?" he said.

"About having cooties," she answered a roll of her eyes, but he could tell that it bothered her.

"Cooties?" he asked with a laugh. "They think you have cooties?"

"Well, yeah, I'm a girl," she replied.

"You're too pretty to have cooties," he blurted out before he could stop himself.

She looked at him with wide eyes. "You think I'm pretty?"

He ducked his head down, looking at his sandwich with burning cheeks. "Well, I, um, yeah! I, uh, I think you're really pretty." He could feel himself start to ramble, but he couldn't stop himself. "And I think you're really smart, too! I mean, you always raise your hand in class – which I guess could just mean that you like to talk – but you always get the answer right, so that means you're smart. And you dress really nice, too – well atleast I think so – and my mom would say that it looks really snazzy."

He stopped when he realized that he talked about his mom. He looked back down, trying to hide the sadness on his face.

"I'm really sorry about your mom," Lydia said softly after a few minutes.

"It's – it's okay," he replied.

"No," she insisted, shaking her head, "it's not. No one should lose their mom." She took a deep breath, as if to steady herself. "Especially someone as nice as you."

He looked at her, and saw the blush creeping up her cheeks. "You think I'm nice?"

She nodded. "Well, you are the only boy in our class who tells me that I'm pretty, instead of telling me that I have cooties and to stay away."

"They really say that?" Stiles asked. Why would they say that? Why would they say that to her of all people? Why would anyone want her to stay away?

"Yeah, they do."

"Well, boys can be stupid, myself included," Stiles stated , making her laugh. "But I would never tell you to go away."

"Why not?" she asked, tilting her head.

"Because I like talking to you," he answered honestly.

She looked down at her sandwich, rolling her lips into a smile.

"I like talking to you, too," she said quietly.

They sat in silence for a minute, and Stiles felt a warm, bubbly feeling spreading through his chest and stomach. He remembered his dad telling him about when he met his mom, and how his dad saw her and knew that he had to talk to her. And when he talked to her, he knew that he had to spend the rest of his life loving her, no matter what. Stiles had thought that his dad was weird for thinking that, but now, looking at this smart, beautiful, amazing girl, he was starting to understand what his dad was saying.

The bell rang for the end of lunch. They gathered up their trash and threw it away.

"Hey, Lydia?" Stiles said as they started walking back to the classroom.

"Yeah?"

"Um…" he scratched the back of his neck nervously. "I just wanted to thank you, you know, for sitting with me."

"No problem," she said. "It was nice."

"Yeah," he replied, "it was. So I, uh, I was thinking, that maybe – if you wanted to – you could, you know –"

"Lydia! Come on!"

Another girl ran up and grabbed Lydia's hand, dragging her away from Stiles.

"Bye!" Lydia waved as she disappeared into the crowd.

Stiles deflated as a sigh left him. "Sit with me tomorrow."

'''''

"Stiles? Stiles?"

A manicured hand snapped its fingers in front of his face, drawing him out of his reverie.

"What?"

"Are you okay?" Lydia asked.

"Yeah," he said, "just thinking."

She assessed him for a moment before backing down. "Okay. Do you want my fries?"

"You don't want them?" he asked.

She shook her head, her face screwing up in distaste. "They're really greasy today."

"Sure," he shrugged. He wasn't about to turn down curly fries.

Lydia slid the fries over to him as Allison and Isaac walked into the lunchroom, Allison waving as she saw them before getting in line.

Stiles looked at Lydia as she started on the rest of her lunch.

"What?" she asked, her fork an inch from her mouth.

"Nothing," he said, grabbing a handful of fries and shoving them into his mouth.

"No," she insisted, putting her fork down. "You've been weird since we sat down. What's up?"

"Nothing's up," he replied with his mouth full. "I'm just…reminiscing."

"About what?" she asked, tilting her head.

"Things," he replied.

"Things?" she said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, just things." He swallowed his fries and gave her a small smile. She gave him a searching look, the corners of her lips curling up slightly.

The warm, bubbly feeling came to him, just like every other time he was around her, but it was different than when he was in third grade. It didn't make him nervous like it used to. There was actually a…content feeling flowing through him when he was with her, like she belonged right there next to him.

He might have been able to start seeing what his dad was talking about all those years ago, but now he knew exactly what his dad was talking about.

Because the more time he spent with her, the more he knew that he had to spend the rest of his life loving her. And sometimes, when she looked back at him – like she was now – he could swear she knew that's what he was thinking.

But the funny thing is, is that she didn't seem to mind.

Please tell me what you think!