A/N: I'm the worst at following plans, other than my outlines. I sat on this one for a full two nights, at least. I'm still not promising anything! Plus, it's fun to... well, you'll get it at the end :)

As always, reviews are the coolest and ya'll are already the coolest for reading, but the coolest of the cool review. It's totally a thing. And I guess I should mention that I have no affiliation to the TV series and I don't own any of these characters?


Stiles didn't want to wake up from his dream. His absolutely amazing, fucking perfect dream where he bit the bullet and kissed Lydia Martin – of course, after the bawling his eyes out part. That was what made it seem so real and made the feeling of waking up in his bed so much worse. At least his soft, silky sheets-

He jerked his head up, looking at the covers and feeling his jaw hang open. He was definitely in bed, but whose bed was a different question altogether. He patted down on the bed once, just to make sure it was real, twice – because really, really this couldn't be happening – and the third time was to really come to grips with where he was, and who was lightly snoring beside him. He laughed a little at the sight of Lydia: hand still dangling over the side of the bed, muttering something, all underneath that soft hum he would totally use to mess with her. It was already looking like a good day, but then she rolled over and opened her eyes sleepily, rubbing at them and lazily registering that Stiles was, in fact, in her bed and she sat up instantaneously. Her eyes were wide and she double-checked herself and Stiles, who was secretly hoping that she would have been all right if they weren't wearing any clothes at that second, before dropping back onto the bed.

Following suit and turning to face her, Stiles searched for Lydia's hand under the covers but had accidentally brushed against something that was decidedly not her hand. Instead of doing the sane thing and pulling back his hand, Stiles took another moment to realize he had pretty much groped Lydia's thigh. Outer thigh, he noted to himself to try and hold back a panic attack. Either way, at this point both of their eyes widened further and Stiles, very slowly, withdrew his hand.

"I… uhh, I thought that was your, um, your hand," he muttered dumbly. Lydia, however, didn't scold him or shriek and bring werewolves, terrified mothers, and police down on him. She bit her bottom lip like she always seemed to do around Stiles when she didn't want to show she liked something he was doing, and giggled a little.

"Okay, tiger. Whatever you say," laughing as she got out of bed, she yawned and turned around, "and we'll talk, but I'd like to do that after I change, all right?"

"Oh, Jesus." Stiles scrambled out of the bed, flinging limbs every which way in his efforts. After a few seconds of readjusting himself, and Lydia's wonderful laughter filling his ears once again, he made his way out of the room, "I think I should, uh, check in with my dad and stuff anyways, so I'll see you at school?"

She nodded and Stiles took that as his cue to get the hell out. Trying not to scream, he softly bounded his way out to the Jeep still parked awkwardly from his manic drive. Energy seemed to be flowing out of his pores, and before he could even tell that he'd opened his car door, he was already in his own driveway. He had actually accomplished something. In fact, it was more than just that – Lydia was talking and seemed to be totally a-OK with them having managed to end up in bed together, despite whatever she might say later about it never having happened.

So when his dad's car backed out and stopped beside him, and the window rolled down, Stiles didn't hesitate for a moment to immediately dash up to it. The sheriff looked up to his son, smiled and shook his head. But before he could roll the window back up, Stiles broke in,

"Dad, aren't you gonna yell at me? Tell me I should have told you I wasn't coming home? I mean, I could have been in trouble, I might have gotten hurt or…" but he was quickly interrupted,

"I told you to go, Stiles. Besides, the only thing I was worried about was whether you were… you know, prepared." He threw that last bit in with a wink, chuckled, and backed out of the driveway. It took Stiles a moment to process that before he grinned back at his dad.

"You mean sex!" He shouted, pointing an accusatory finger.

"Nope, I was definitely not talking about sex," was the answer from the car, along with another laugh, before it drove off. Stiles kept smiling to himself as he prepared for the coming day, never really stepping down from the high everything the previous night up to now had given him. He just hoped that Lydia was as ecstatic as he was.

The drive to school was open windows, blasting radio, and the broadest smile Stiles had likely ever had on his way there. The day just seemed to be going one-hundred percent his way, and there wasn't any fucking way that he was going to let something crazy get in the way of it. After having parked – actually parked this time – he bounced his way in through the front doors, and he could feel a literal bounce in his steps. Scott definitely noticed it, because his goofy smile and raised eyebrow asked enough questions without him even talking.

"Don't even say anything. I don't care what gopher Derek dug up last night, I'm just going to enjoy this day without having to worry about what plan you and Cujo are cooking up." Stiles didn't even let him answer, and tried to walk past him before his best friend pulled him back – which seemed to be alarmingly easy.

"Dude," Scott looked him in the eyes as if that were a real question, "It worked?"

"I'm a gentleman, I don't kiss and tell," Stiles replied, bowing a little and adjusting his invisible monocle.

"Yeah, because you totally didn't ask me for help on this. I should at least get to know, man." Scott didn't look like he was going to back down anytime soon, and Stiles needed another person to talk about this with anyways. He still hesitated because he didn't think it would be fair to Lydia to spill her reasons for holing up. If she wanted to tell them, she would do it herself. She would tell them when she was ready, like the regular Lydia would.

"Okay, we talked." Scott's reaction was eyebrows raised and an otherwise bland expression. This continued for a few seconds, neither of them saying anything, before Stiles eventually broke down, "All right, I might have – may have – kind of slept with her. Not the way you're thinking, unfortunately. It was sorta; she had some things to say and I slept over at her place."

Despite him having denied anything sexual happening, Scott still beamed at his friend and give him the closest thing he could to a congratulations either of their completely manly egos could take:

"Awesome."


It really was amazing, and Stiles couldn't stop thinking about it. Even with the aftershocks of the Deucalion debacle still shifting around, especially now with his theory about the darkness spreading between the links, having this between them was incredible to him. That even in this awful night there was still a little bit of light. When the pair of boys walked into Physics – sans teacher and former substitute – and Stiles paired up with Lydia, all Scott did was pat him on the back. Smiling to his friend, he turned to Lydia who was staring ardently at what seemed to be a completely blank piece of paper. Trying to get her attention, it took a few seconds for her to look up and face him. They both quickly averted the others' gaze, and Stiles suddenly felt like whatever he did was wrong. That maybe him being so excited wasn't completely valid and that the previous night was another one of Lydia's mistakes that she would shrug off. But that quickly went away when she turned to him, and spoke very quietly.

"H-Hey, Stiles." Lydia Martin was stammering. At him. She was nervous about something, and the only thing in their recent history definitely had to do with the bed situation. It was so strange feeling the roles reversed and seeing her awkwardly scratch at the back of her neck, and furrow her brow as if she was rethinking what she said just then and wanted to re-do that bit of the conversation.

"Ms. Martin?" The substitute was evidently taking roll. Lydia answered politely and raised her hand, and the balding man swiveling Harris's chair around scribbled something on a pad of paper. Then it took a few moments for Stiles to work up the courage to actually ask her about whatever awkwardness was here, and the bright excitement from the morning was quickly fading.

"Do you want to talk about this? Or, well, us? I mean, that's assuming there is-"

"Mr. Stilinski?" Stiles grunted in response and raised his hand lazily without even acknowledging the substitute, which was answered itself by a harrumph from the substitute and a furious scribble.

"I really don't know what to call this, but we can talk about it after class," Lydia answered matter-of-factly. She seemed to have lost the stammer, and he hoped that being so forward was getting him somewhere again. After all the ground he'd covered the night before it would have killed him to have Lydia ignore him once again.

She nodded to him, pursed her lips and gave his hand a brief squeeze before looking back up to the substitute, who had begun on the day's lecture. If there was any thought that they were going to go back to the previous weeks' pattern of being terrified about what was happening to her, that light touch was enough to kick that thought in the ass. This was looking to be a really, really good day.


After class, and having to endure Scott's prodding and joking before saying bye to the two of them, Lydia managed to pull Stiles alongside a row of lockers outside the classroom. His heart was pounding at this point, wondering – even after deciding it wouldn't – if there was going to be some emotional complication that would make her rethink ever reacting to Stiles the way she had. It was always possible she was easing him into the 'you're a great guy, but just not my guy' speech. Then she'd smile sadly, a fake sadness, and go about her day. They'd still be friends, she'd still be talking again, and that'd be enough for him. So Stiles stood tall and looked her in the eyes, willing to take whatever was about to come his way. Instead of starting that speech, or really saying anything, she grabbed both of his hands and stepped up to plant a chaste kiss on his lips. Another simple little peck, but it answered just about every question and made his heart pound straight up into his head with excitement – this was a public place, and Lydia just made it known to just about anyone that cared that that kiss just happened.

"Does that answer your question?" She tossed her hair over her shoulder, and pulled Stiles along by his hand. He stumbled for a second, mouth still hanging open in a stupid grin, before catching up and gleefully swinging the intertwined hands back and forth. If the kiss wasn't public enough, he was going to parade this around school for as long as possible. Every few seconds, in-between trying to steal glances at each other, they would occasionally catch each other and smirk. This kept going on all the way to the cafeteria, including things like a very disgruntled Aiden and a group of girls sniggering at the pair of them. No one seemed to bother them, however, and Stiles was feeling himself excited just to eat lunch. Mostly because Lydia was talking again, but the hand-holding and the brief kiss outside of class were probably helping that.

Sitting at lunch, across from each other, there didn't seem to be much to talk about. So it wasn't too long before he broke the silence, fidgeting all the while under the table with his hands.

"You said we'd talk about this – us. Let's do it. Talk. Let's talk. Not do it, but I mean yeah let's talk," Stiles was tapping his feet incessantly now and could feel his voice falter and shake. Lydia shook her head, giving him the pouty 'you're such an idiot' face.

"You're such an idiot," she grumbled while shaking her head, "I don't know about you, but it feels… different, you know? Maybe it's just the fresh relationship smell, or whatever you want to call it, but I don't know…"

"It could just be that you really, really – I mean really – like me." Stiles conjectured with his trademark shit-eating grin, "Which I don't blame you for. I like me a whole lot too."

"I'm sure you do, sweetheart." Lydia bit her lip and added, with what sounded like a sultry tone but Stiles was so high in the moment it might have been sarcasm, "But remember, you don't have to be alone in that anymore."

Stiles's eyes widened before he hung his head and chuckled. If this was a dream, he didn't want to ever ever, ever, ever get out of it and he'd rather be in this coma than deal with what's outside. Was it selfish of him, he thought? Hell yeah it was, but if you're living in any world – dream or not – where Lydia Martin pretty much gives you the keys to the front door, you don't complain. It was pretty simple. Before he could come back with a quick retort, oh he desperately wanted this talk to go somewhere that involved skipping class and seeing where this newfound connection would go, the rest of the 'pack' filled in the chairs around them. Scott and Allison were beaming and asking Lydia a bunch of mundane, pointless questions, and Isaac excused himself and went to grab food.

"So, Scott told me you were just in full SAT mode?" Allison proffered, and Stiles gave Scott a quick thumbs-up before returning to listen to Lydia blather about some specific rubric they had switched around or whatever, "Well I'm glad we've got Lydia back, it was getting really lonely around here."

"Rude," Scott threw out, nudging at her side, "You had me and Stiles and Isaac."

"And you guys aren't my best friend, are you?" She asked, shrugging and wrapping an arm around Lydia, who quickly glanced at Stiles and they both smiled again. Allison seemed to have caught it, because she looked with questioning eyes between the two of them a few times before turning fully to face Lydia, arms crossed, "Wait. So, Scott tells me you and Stiles are studying and when I text you there's no answer. Because you're 'studying' of course. Lydia Martin would never answer a text when she's doing something as important as studying."

The inflection on that last word, the smug look and the half-grin that Allison had made Stiles uncomfortable, and when he looked to Scott for help he was just trying not to laugh out loud. He tensed up, for what reason he couldn't tell other than this felt an awful lot like an impromptu interrogation and an Argent at the head of that terrified him in strange ways, but Lydia seemed calm when she met the brunette's questioning with her chin held high and arms folded herself. Something about this felt like it was going to end in a way Stiles didn't really want to deal with. Rather than say anything Lydia walked around the table to where he was, scooted him over, and grabbed his hand from under the table. She rubbed her thumb over his knuckles a few times and proceeded to slam their locked fingers onto it. Her raised eyebrows and smile said, plainly, 'Your point being?'

Stiles found something discharge in him when her thumb went across his knuckles. It was a sort of burst of the same energy he felt that morning, and decided to respond by laying his head on Lydia's shoulder, fluttering his eyelids seductively at the pair in front of him. After a moment of that he brought his head back up and looked at Allison, straight in the eyes. Even if it was just an overexcited friend, being able to do this without exploding in spastic half-speech and fragments felt almost as good as that charge of adrenalin.

"Huh." Isaac had re-joined them at last and set his tray on the table, not taking his eyes off the pair of them while he sat down, "That's definitely, well, new."

"Isaac, are you ever on the same page as us?" Lydia asked sincerely.

"Well, there was that one time… I did; hey I sided with Scott before Derek did." He punctuated that with a large bite of his sandwich, chewing triumphantly. Stiles stared at him blankly before shrugging agreement and going back to his food, of course while trying to maintain that grip – that lifelink – with Lydia under the table. During their idle talk, Stiles had let go for a moment because he thought his hand was getting too sweaty only for Lydia to place her hand on his thigh and look at him blankly. Like it was nothing at all. Nah, totally nothing.

It wasn't Lydia Martin literally inches from his crotch.


After an entire afternoon of holding hands, actually having conversations beyond just what the new horrible supernatural terror in town was, and having Lydia around again at all, Stiles didn't know if he wanted it to stop. He didn't know if he'd wake up the next morning and get the same speech he was fearing in Physics: the speech that crippled that energy and brought a little more of that darkness on him. But he couldn't stay at Lydia's every night – keyword every, he reminded himself – so he had to believe that the crazy strawberry blonde wouldn't have a change of heart overnight.

Right before starting his Jeep, off to a foreign land of No-Lydia, the passenger door opened and in came said girl who greeted him with a deeper kiss than before. There was tongue, Stiles remembered. Everything before, after, and in the middle was kind of a blur. It was minty blur, but not the clinical mint; it had a hint of chocolate and holy shit it tasted good.

"Hi," he said with a stupid grin and half-lidded eyes.

"Yeah, hi," she nodded in response, looking at him strangely before pointing at the keys already in the ignition. It took Stiles an instant to follow her finger and chuckled, mumbling something about thighs, starting up his car. A clanking, whirring rumble followed them all the way to the Martin place, but that didn't stop their conversation. Stiles didn't even remember half of what he said, he just knew that being able to talk to Lydia again, being even more open, was probably the coolest thing ever. It didn't hurt that she kept leaving her hand on his thigh and playing with his shifting hand.

When they approached the house he made sure to actually line his Jeep up right, not to look like it was the blitz of tears and fear that happened before. Inspiration struck Stiles as she gave him another brief kiss on the cheek, and he jumbled the question together when she hopped off the seat and out of the car.

"Hey Lydia, you should totally come over and have dinner with me and my dad sometime. He really wants to know what's keeping his son off his computer. Driving him nuts," Stiles added at the end, swirling a finger around his ear and shrugging noncommittally. It was probably the closest to a smooth operator he had ever been in his life, but Lydia still gave that annoyed snort and incredulous pouting lip.

"I'm not doing anything tonight, you know," she said evenly.

"Oh, shit. Well, I'll come back at 8. I'll just pick you up and we can, have a..." Stiles trailed off, feeling that awkward shake to his voice come back.

"It's a date," Lydia finished, smiling broadly. He returned it and nodded, said goodbye and drove off with what felt like doubled heart rate and more excitement than he'd ever felt. What a fucking day it was.


It was 7 o'clock, and Stiles was already pacing around the house. Literally, he had walked up and down the stairs fifteen times before walking back and forth in the kitchen for a few minutes. He'd asked his dad if he should dress formally, and decided that just wearing what he had been at school – the jeans and t-shirt – with a jacket over top would have to do. What was he doing worrying about clothes anyways? A ripped sock wasn't going to send her running for the hills, but maybe it would? And that drove Stiles insane, trying to leave those maybe's unanswered without pulling his hair out and screaming.

When he had finished his final lap of the living room around 7:40, his phone vibrated in his pocket. His fingers twitched when they unlocked the screen, and he could feel restlessness in his legs – maybe he should just get a quick jog in before going over – when he pulled up the text from Scott. Stiles lifted his head up, shouted to his dad that he was leaving and he'd be back with Lydia a bit later than he thought, and sprinted out of the door. His arm felt like it was about come straight out of the socket when he yanked the driver side door of his Jeep open, that one sentence text getting him in a furious panic beyond what he had been feeling just minutes ago.

From: Wolf-boy

Get to the clinic its abt lydia