Phew, wow, it was so hard to get this chapter done. It's far too hot right now, and humid. My brain has turned to mush and I had to snatch moments here and there when it was a little cooler to write. This story isn't abandoned, I just need a breather, quite literally. Sorry. :(

Chapter 39

Stiles reflexively looked around to check if Lydia really meant him, never mind that she'd spoken to him directly. Her dismissal of him was so ingrained that he just couldn't help himself.

"Uhm, hey, yeah, you can have a minute," Stiles stuttered. "Although I was just about to ask Isaac whether he's ready to go home. I'm already beat."

The weak lie made Lydia's full lips quirk up a little. "Surely it wasn't that bad. I saw you flirting with someone all night."

"Hah, she was flirting with me , which, strange. Nobody flirts with me, ever." Stiles took a tiny step back when Lydia daintily came forward. A soft breeze made her dress flutter gently, and he could smell traces of her expensive perfume. He stared at Lydia. "She wasn't really flirting with me, was she?"

"Hm, no," she admitted airily, still raking her eyes all over him. A step away, she stopped her slow prowl and looked up to him like the helpless female she so decidedly wasn't. Almost as an afterthought she touched the friendship bracelet around her wrist. "Don't take it personally; she's a lesbian and wanted to do me a favour."

Even though he'd almost suspected as much, Stiles still felt acute disappointment at that confession. Too old for him or not, it'd have been nice to be flirted with because of some honest attraction. "What kind of favour would that be? You bet on me falling for a stupid middle school prank or what? If so, I'd really have expected better from you."

Lydia bit her lip and blinked slowly. Carefully, oh so carefully, her hands touched his waist and crept around it in a gossamer soft embrace. "It was not a prank. All I wanted was for her to lead you to a quiet place … for a talk. But you resisted her charms all night, which, while somewhat impressive, was inconvenient. It was getting tiresome to blow Jackson off."

"About that … dude's pissed off about more or less not being invited." Stiles flushed a little at her touch. Even as light as it was he was still hyper-aware of the tiniest pressure against his heated skin. "A-are you breaking up with him?"

"No, of course not," she responded like he should have known. At the same time her tentative hold on him grew a little firmer, more assured. "But I thought that you and I could have … something nice, too, and to find that out I needed time away from him."

"Wha-what?" Stiles gaped at her. "Seriously, what?"

Lydia smiled, and while Stiles could detect the hint of condescension perfectly well, he found her smile enthralling anyway. No girl had ever smiled at him like that. "It took me a while to notice, but you're more than what you seem at first glance." She raised her face a little and caressed his back with soft, long strokes. "We could be very good friends."

Gulping, Stiles mentally counted to ten. This was literally nearly every dream come true … and also a complete nightmare. Lydia offering up herself in sacrifice for that elusive something she thought she needed from him was ugly and so sad that he could hardly breathe for it.

"And Jackson?" Stiles managed to rasp out, his lips nearly touching hers. Unconsciously he leaned backwards a little as she came another few millimeters closer. "Would he really just tolerate your side dude?"

"He loves me," Lydia murmured, "and he knows what I need." She fluttered her lashes at Stiles and pressed so close that he could feel all of her curves. "It's lucky that you've gotten along better with him lately, though … maybe, in time, you two could become good friends as well. I know that he's looked at guys once or twice."

She took a soft breath, closed her eyes, and leaned in, and Stiles nearly pulled something as he evaded her kiss in a panic. Below the belt, his rather involuntary boner was shrieking at him in outrage.

"I-I-I don't t-think that he'd like me to d-do this," he stammered. He gently attempted to flee her embrace, only to find that her grip was rather strong for such a petite person.

"Jackson will understand," Lydia purred, moving in for another try. "You're somehow special, Stiles. Is it so wrong to want that for myself? Just a little bit?"

"Nah, I get it. And I'd love to get together with you, you know that, but …" He steeled himself against her powers of seduction and decided to go for broke. In a rush he added, "But not like this. See, I've dreamed of leading you to the altar and have Jackson cry his stupid eyes out because you left him for me."

"Cute," Lydia chuckled. She ran a hand over Stiles' cheek, looking honestly amused.

"Yeah, cute." Stiles raked a hand through his hair, dislodging hers in the process. "But that's the whole point. You left him for me." He looked at her, taking in all of her fantastic features, and felt so torn that it hurt. "Reality is different; you won't leave him for me. All this is gonna do is make all of us miserable. And I can't do that. Not even to hurt Jackson."

"Good to know," Jackson said. He strolled along the narrow garden path and glared at his unrepentant girlfriend. "Are you done here? Great. Let's go back to the others, Lyds."

"I'm not finished here," Lydia retorted. Her light touch turned into a tight grip around Stiles' middle and her eyes narrowed. "You can wait for me inside, Jackson."

"I really can't." Jackson merely put his hands into his pants pockets. "You either come with me right now, or I'll leave."

Lydia scoffed and Stiles just wished he could be anywhere else but here.

"I'll leave for good," Jackson clarified. "Right now. Let go of Stilinski and forget this nonsense about needing him close or whatever. It's bullshit anyway."

"It's not," Lydia hissed. "It's not!"

"Whatever, I'm out." Jackson waved a hand at Stiles. "You're welcome to her, Stiles, but it probably won't last long."

"I know," Stiles muttered. He finally found the resolve to push Lydia away. Almost at once it was easier to breathe, and to think. "Sorry, Lydia, but it's not gonna work like that. I'm better than stupidly accepting your scraps."

He stepped around the shocked girl and trudged up to Jackson. Together, they made the short trek back to party, where Jackson actually got Stiles a beer and toasted him with it. Together they sat down on a white bench by the pool and watched the few brave ones who'd jumped into the water. Every now and then water splashed as far as their feet, though it was warm enough that neither cared about their soaked sneakers.

"Good show there, Stilinski. I didn't think you'd tell her no," Jackon murmured.

"Well, it's true, what I said. I'd have loved to have her leave you for me." Stiles took a sip of his drink while Jackson snorted. "She doesn't want to leave you, you know."

"Well, tough. I don't share. That she even tried to pull this is bullshit, and lacked all the subtlety, is a letdown."

"Are you serious just now?" Stiles raised both eyebrows at the other teen. "You were going after Allison pretty aggressively there, dude. How's that not a complete double standard?"

"I wouldn't have kept her," Jackson stated like that made it any better. "Plus, I mostly wanted to fuck with McCall." He shrugged. "I never claimed to be a saint. But hell freezes over before I accept anyone as Lydia's permanent side chick. Even if I could maybe find you attractive enough to make it work … in a hundred years or so."

Stiles grimaced. "Dude, I'm not that effeminate, thanks. If anyone's gonna be a chick, side or otherwise, it's you, pretty boy."

"I'm not so sure about that, Bambi Eyes." Jackson smirked and bumped Stiles' shoulder with his own. "Anyway, thanks for not letting Lydia have her way. That means something."

"Yeah. I'm astounded at myself," Stiles confessed, staring intently at the water painting he was drawing with his wet shoes. "Seems like I have some self-respect after all."

"She can drive someone insane," Jackson allowed. He looked over the mingling party guests and took another long pull from his bottle.

"You good?" Stiles asked after a slight pause. "I mean, you just broke up with her."

Jackson dismissed this with a negligent shrug. "We break up every other month. She'll be back before long."

"And … you'll let her?" Stiles was thrown. "The fuck?"

"It's fucked up, I know," Jackson agreed. "I don't care. At the end of the day she's it for me, and I'm it for her. I don't see that changing just because she's been crazy for a few months. It'll get better eventually. I swore that I'd stick around, and I will. You were right that she's worth it."

"Unless she starts building a harem," Stiles teased. He could hardly believe that he was actually able to joke about it, and with Jackson no less, but it felt good.

"Yeah, I won't tolerate that." Jackson turned to Stiles and looked him over with open appraisal. "What is it that she really wants from you?"

"I have a very good guess, but I can't tell you just yet," Stiles replied. "Let's just say that I was warned that this could happen."

"Will it happen again?" Jackson demanded.

"I can't speak for Lydia, but from my end? No. Definitely not," Stiles said honestly. "We'll talk soon, maybe after the exams are done. I need some more time to finish my presentation, so."

"At least those are good," Jackson complimented grudgingly. He kicked at the small puddle of water at his feet. "But I swear to god, you let us wait longer than the end of June and I'll kick your ass from here to Massachusetts."

Stiles could only grin about that threat. "I'd like to see you try." From Jackson's other side Isaac sauntered into view, casual as can be. "Hey Isaac. You ready to leave?"

"Yup," Isaac replied, eyes going from Stiles to Jackson and back again. "Derek's got the motor running already. Erica and Boyd will stay a bit longer but Erica's demanding Skype time tomorrow."

"Alright." Stiles set his half empty bottle onto the ground and rose. "Except for the stalker girls and Lydia's little bout of thoughtlessness it was … nice. Your grilled stuff was the best part, Jackson."

"Seconded," Isaac said with a smirk. "Although I liked those devilled eggs, too."

Jackson accepted the praise as his due and nodded briefly. "I'll see you around school. Good luck for the exams."

"Yeah, you too." Isaac slung his arm around Stiles' shoulders and led him away from the noise of the music and the shrieking and loudly talking and laughing people. As soon as they'd left the large area and were moving alongside the villa where no one was loitering, he asked, "You okay?"

Stiles looked at him speculatively. "Yeah. Why didn't you come when Lydia made her stupid little play? I could've used some moral support there. Or a crowbar with someone with werewolf strength attached to it."

Isaac slightly raised his eyebrow at him.

"Oh come on. That was a test?" Stiles exclaimed, elbowing Isaac in the side to properly express his disgust.

"With Peter, everything is a test," Isaac said unapologetically. He looked away and mumbled in a much lower voice, "He'd have been so pissed if you'd let her kiss you."

"I'll show him pissed," Stiles grumbled.

They reached the gate and while Isaac stepped through without hesitation, Stiles stopped and turned around to get one last good look at the villa.

Even from here the music and voices were almost as loud as in the garden proper, and the fairy lights were still nice to look at. However, after Lydia's attempted seduction, and a half-hearted one at that, like he wasn't even worth the effort, all of the magic had gone out of the evening.

For the first time in probably ever Stiles knew exactly where he stood with Lydia. It was hard getting disillusioned like that, but on the other hand it felt like a milestone in the ever-exciting process of growing up. Not a stranger to feeling settled in himself despite all of his idiosyncrasies insecurities, this experience added something to Stiles that enhanced his sense of self immeasurably.

For the first time in a long while, Stiles actually felt lighter and freer. Like giving a pass to the proclaimed love of his life's attentions had loosened a noose around his neck that had suffocated him so sweetly for all these years.

An idling motor was shut off and quiet footsteps on gravel alerted Stiles to Derek's approach.

"You did good," the werewolf told him. "Whatever else played a role in that girl's behaviour, you should never accept being someone else's stopgap. Especially not when feelings are involved."

Stiles smiled crookedly. "I know. I'll probably mope about it for a while, but that's okay."

"Good." Derek sighed and enfolded Stiles in one of his fantastic hugs. "We're getting milkshakes on the way home."

"Hell yes, we are," Stiles mumbled into Derek's shoulder and squeezed him tightly.

oOo

"I thought that it'd be a chocolate milkshake kind of night," Peter said as he strolled into the open space living room of his apartment. He nodded at Derek, who turned on his heel and left, and took a cheeky sip of Stiles' drink. "Vanilla seems a rather … settled choice, all things considered."

"I'm good," Stiles told him and easily leaned into Peter's comforting arm. "Not a triumph, but not a disaster either. But you were right about Lydia and I feel like an idiot."

"To be fair, she would have tried that sooner or later," Peter consoled him. "I just didn't think she'd be in such a hurry - or that obvious."

"I'm spending the night at Derek's," Isaac announced. "I'm just getting some things."

"Wait, what?" Stiles craned his neck to watch the other teen lope into his room. "Why do you wanna go? I thought we'd hang out a little before I slink home."

"I promised Derek to watch Numb3rs with him while Peter consoles you. Unlike you, Derek can actually be wowed by the math," Isaac called through the open door. Some rustling could be heard, and not a minute later Isaac reappeared with a duffle bag thrown over his shoulder. "Holler if you need something, Peter."

"Will do, pup. Have fun." Peter smiled indulgently after Isaac and then steered Stiles towards his monstrosity of a couch. "Now that we're alone, let's deal with some business. If you do not actually need consoling, that is."

"As I said, I'm good. What business?" Stiles slurped loudly through his straw and raised his eyebrows inquiringly. It had the desired effect of making Peter's lips quirk up in an entertained grin. "Has something happened? Did Mrs. Argent get back to town? Or did Scott break out of prison?"

"The Failure is going nowhere, I assure you," Peter replied haughtily. "No, something arrived today and I wanted you to be the first one to see it."

"Sort of like a present? I'm down for that!" Stiles made grabby hands and cheered when Peter handed over a large sealed leather roll. The cheering lasted until a very weird tingling raced through his hands and into his chest, only to shoot up to his head and right into his eyes. For a short second it felt as if actual light was shooting out of them. "Oof! What the fuck?"

"That," Peter said, staring intently at Stiles, "was magic. Your eyes lit up beautifully, almost like a wolf's."

"You could've warned me." Stiles rubbed his smarting eyes. "Now tell me what this is."

"It's Angelique Argent's Official Acknowledgement Of Obligation. It'll be written on vellum, and should be signed in blooded ink." Peter made a claw appear on his index finger and very carefully cut through the paper seal around one of the leather roll's ends. "That touch of magic was strong and is a further sign of her intent to apologize for her family's crimes."

"How can magic help with that?" Stiles asked. He traced the intricate stitches and carvings on the dark brown leather with his fingertips, trying to chase that feeling of magic. When nothing was forthcoming, he made a disappointed sound. "Would you have felt it?"

"As strongly as it affected you, definitely," Peter said. "But this was only the first part. A confirmation of receipt, if you will. The Argents' magic user will have felt that another magic user has touched the leather."

"Uh, okay. That's sort of creepy, but practical, I guess. Only … did they know that you have a magic user close by?"

"Very good question." Peter took the leather roll from Stiles' rather nerveless fingers and unceremoniously loosened the lid. "They didn't, but they do now."

Stiles was confused and not a little concerned. "Which means that you just gave up an advantage. Will they know that it is me?"

"They already know of you, thanks to dear Chris and Allison," Peter soothed him. "And you knew who you'd be playing ball with when you decided to join me. But to answer your question: no, they do not know that you, specifically, are a magic user. I highly doubt that the recently departed Argents even suspected. Should you ever meet the magic user who cast that spell on the offering, they will know, though."

"I thought as much," Stiles muttered, "and I'm not exactly ecstatic about it."

"Yes, it is one of the less enjoyable facts of magic," Peter agreed. "Magic users, no matter their strength or natural inclination, will develop a keen sense of awareness over time. Instead of faces or scents or sounds you'll be able to recognize magical signatures. And contrary to the traditional senses, this one is said to only get stronger with age and experience."

At this, Stiles perked up a little. "Like in Harry Potter?"

"Just so, I suppose," Peter replied and showed a hint of fang as he smiled. "That means that no one with even the slightest amount of magic in their bodies will ever be able to hide from you, should you live long enough to hone that skill."

Stiles took the leather roll back and smacked Peter against the shoulder with it. "You absolute dick. It's your job to make sure I live that long."

"Yes, it is, and I take that job very seriously." Peter's voice took on a faint rumbling quality. "Take out the scroll, Stiles. Let's see whether the Grand Matriarch has put down what she promised us."

End of chapter 39