Teen Wolf not mine. (Do I have to do this every chapter?)

She tied up the laces on her converse and grabbed the apron on the counter. Lydia Marin can save your life while she parades away in high heels, but she needs comfort to serve coffee around here. Credit Card debt finally reached alarming rates of high, and Lydia decided that if she took a crappy, low-paying job somewhere, that would be enough to stop her mom from constantly reminding her about her financial irresponsibility. Well it wasn't enough. Her mother still complains about how Lydia should adopt more maturity, since she is seventeen now, but at least, Lydia sighs, she now has the I-work-and-go-to-school argument.

So on a Saturday morning, she prepares herself for the breakfast crowd that she usually doesn't have to deal with because she takes the evening shift during weekdays. She smiles at Hannah as she steps up to join her, behind the counter of this small coffee shop located in a sparsely crowded corner of Beacon Hills.

She picks on an idle thread peeking out from the edge of her simple, black apron as she waits for the first customer to arrive. It's not like she hates the job. She is fine with it. Really, this is the best she could have gotten with such flexible working hours. It's just that this job offers her pretty much nothing. No theories, no heated debates over Darwin's theory of evolution, no running away from clawed monsters on her hunt. It was mundane and boring and ordinary. It was just so normal.

She is suddenly broken out of her chain of thought by the ding of the little bell situated over the main entrance door, indicating someone's arrival. She lifts up her head only to be met with brown eyes that appear to have a streak of sunray swirling amongst the darker hues.

"What are you doing here?" she asks instinctively. She hadn't told anybody from the pack about this job. Literally no one. It's not like Lydia Martin would straight up admit to somebody that she needs financial help. No, thank you very much.

The customer however, turns towards Hannah, and with amusement lacing his tone he asks, "Is this usually how you greet customers around here?" Using his hand to indicate towards Lydia.

"Stiles!"Lydia interrupts before Hannah could apologize on her behalf. "Please leave," she requests in the most sickly sweet tone she can muster.

Ever since three months ago, after Stiles and Malia had made peace with their break-up, Lydia and Stiles had been dancing this dangerous dance. There was something brewing. There is always something brewing with the two of them. And it is not like she doesn't like him. She does like him. She is completely aware of it and she has absolutely no problems admitting it to herself. She likes Stiles Stilinski. She was also pretty sure that Stiles Stilinski likes her too. But they have been teasing and flirting and walking around the edges for so long, this has now become an issue of the egos about who admits it first. And she certainly won't be the one to do it.

"Seriously, what's with the customer care in this place?" Stiles asks, lips turning upwards. And Hannah, who probably has smelled some sort of history here doesn't even try to formulate a response this time around. Choosing instead to let out a little chuckle. Lydia throws her a glare for good measure.

"Stiles really, get out!" Lydia says as she makes her way to the other side of the counter.

"Complete savages here, I tell you, completely - Ow!" Before Stiles could elaborate on the terrible staff training, Lydia had grabbed hold of Stiles' ear and was using it as leverage to pull Stiles towards the main entrance, while Hannah couldn't control her chortles in the background. "Ow, Lydia ouch!" Stiles halts his steps and his weight is too much for Lydia to pull on her own so she lets go of his ear in resignation and takes a deep breath to calm herself down.

"Why are you here, Stiles?" She sighs. This job is important to whatever psychological assurance it keeps her mother under. And she can't have Stiles Stilinski walking his merry way in, turning this into a flirt galore.

"I just want some coffee," he replies innocently, corner of the his lips still tilted upwards.

"You don't even like coffee," Lydia hisses, her calm facade crumbling rapidly.

"In that case," Stiles pulls a chair, and sits himself down, back leaning against the back-rest casually, "I'll just take the muffin."

"You don't want the muffin!" She berates.

"Why would you even say that? Of course I want a muffin."

Lydia tries to keep her calm. She closes her eyes and breathes in. Then exhales. Stiles just watches her with amused interest.

"Which one?"

That probably takes Stiles by surprise because he takes a while before answering this, "What?"

"Muffin," Lydia clarifies, complimenting her sweet smile with eyes that are throwing daggers at him. "Which one do you want?"

Stiles leans his chair back a little, to look at the counter where a bunch of muffins are kept on display behind a glass window. "The chocolate chip one," he decides.

Hannah chuckles at his antics. He waves at her in response. Lydia seethes in frustration.

"So you're Stiles," Hannah finally greets him.

Stiles' chair falls back down on its fore-legs with a definite thump. He looks up at Lydia smugly. "You mention me at work?"

"Only when someone drops something," Lydia replies scathingly.

"Ouch. Rude." He admonishes, tapping the back of her hand.

"I am poisoning your muffin," Lydia replies shortly.

His eyes widens and he bites his lips to stop his laughter from escaping him. "You have got poison around here?"

"We've got rat poison," She clarifies.

"But I am not a rat." Stiles argues back, clearly enjoying this.

Lydia leans down so Hannah won't be able to catch her reply, and fiercely she tells him, "Well, you aren't a werewolf either so it's not like it won't hurt you."

Their faces are inches away. Stiles taps her nose with his pointer this time. "Very rude," he says loudly.

Lydia straightens up, "I can also leave a little piece of glass in it," she says thoughtfully. "That would hurt."

"I'll sue," Stiles replies, shrugging.

Lydia remains quite, then after a moment she drops her head, defeated.

Stiles' grin fades. He takes her hand into his, and pulls so that she steps closer. Rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb, he tells her, "I'll behave, I promise." He continues to rub little soothing circles.

After a moment of comfortable silence she pulls her hand back. "I hope you choke on the muffin," she mutters as she begins to walk towards the counter to retrieve his order.

Stiles lets out a bark of laughter. With her back to him, Lydia smiles at the sound.

"Love the apron, Lydia," he calls after her.

"I hope you get a stomach ache." She replies loudly.

"And the converse!"

"May you throw up all night."

Stiles laughs. And searching for his muffin, her face hidden from him, Lydia lets out a quiet chortle of her own.

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