This Is How We Do
AN: A short story featuring some bonding time between Jameson and Lydia to aide in Stiles not so secret agenda. Oh Stiles.
~Wayward Summer~
Jameson's Perspective:
"You did what?" I yelled.
"Well, she mentioned the other day she missed having another girl around, you know, with Allison being gone, so I mentioned that you didn't have anything to do today and…"
"So why didn't you get her a dog?" I asked.
"Come on, James, if this works out I'll be the hero," He said, "Besides she already has a dog."
I huff.
"The things I do to ensure the survival of the future Mr. and Mrs. Stilinski." I tell him.
"That's the spirit."
A honk from outside let us know that Lydia was here. Stiles smiled at me and I responded by giving him the finger. He just rolled her eyes, before grabbing my arms to turn me around. He then started pushing me towards the door only to shove me through it. I looked out towards the drive way and saw the girliest car ever, a powder blue Volkswagen Bug.
"Can't you like a girl with a cooler car?" I whined.
"It's a Bug. They're classic."
"Classic Bugs are classic." I said before pointing at Lydia's car, "That is a piece of frou-frou."
"Just go, James." He said, giving me another push towards Lydia's car.
"I hate you," I snap at him as I head down the stairs.
"No, you don't." he says as he closes the door.
"Don't tell me what I am." I shot back. I huffed and stomped off to Lydia's car. I knocked on the window, and she looked up from the compact in her hand. I waved and she pressed the unlock button to let me in.
"Jameson," Lydia greeted as I climbed into her car.
"Lydia," I responded in the same tone.
"Thanks for coming. I've been dying for a project."
"A project."
"Didn't Stiles tell you?"
"Tell me what?" I ask suspiciously.
"I'm giving you a makeover."
I whip my head back towards the house. I caught Stiles peering out from a window by the door. I make a slashing motion across my throat. He quickly ducked out of view. He better run because if I find him I'm going to kill him.
~Wayward Summer~
Our first stop on the Lydia crazy train was the salon. At first, I refused to get out of the car, but after a bit of a stare down I ended up giving in. I was so ashamed off myself. I mean I won a stare off against Dean and I can't even win against a teenage girl? I'm losing my touch. I am too young to be losing my touch. So, with a sigh, I climbed out of the car. She gave me a victorious smile before flouncing off towards the salon. I crossed my arms and followed after her, pouting all the way.
The moment we walked through the door, Lydia and I are ushered to the back of the salon. I was unceremoniously pushed into one of the stylists' chairs, and immediately my hair was pulled back into a high ponytail. My shoes are removed and thrown somewhere. And then I'm attacked by the employees. I have one guy plucking my eyebrows, another sanding my fingernails, and a lady working on my feet.
"Lydia?" I asked one I regained my speech.
"Yes, Jameson?"
"Do you torture all of your potential new friends?"
"Only those who have never used a tweezer." She said off-handedly as she flipped a page of what sounded to be a magazine.
"So it's an initiation." I said, "What's next a waxing?"
"We'll see," she replied sounding amused. We fell into lull in our conversation, the only noise being made was the occasional "ow" and the beauticians' shoptalk. Once the eyebrow guy was done he left and came back with some green gunk. I cringed.
"Hey, Lydia." I said turning my face to look at her.
"Yeah?"
"If I don't make it, tell Stiles I hate him. And make it colorful."
"You're not going to die, Jameson."
"I think I'm ready," I tell her ignoring her statement, "I've lived way longer than expected, I just thought when I died it would be related to my family's business, not a face mask."
Lydia rolled her eye and went back to her magazine.
"First time at a salon, huh?" the guy working on my nails asked.
"What was your first clue, genius?" I shot back. He grinned. I hated it when the help has an attitude.
~Wayward Summer~
Lydia was talking with the stylist about my hair, it was the final stage of my physical transformation apparently. She said once we were done here, we'll move on to the mall. After you change the way you look, the next step, according to Lydia, is clothes. Yay Jameson said sarcastically.
As the pair talked like I wasn't here, I gave myself a once over in the full-length mirror. God, I look like a painted whore. At first glance, I couldn't even see myself behind the various make-ups they put on my face. But if I'm truly honest I never saw myself when I looked in the mirror, all I saw was pieces of other people.
Take my hair for example, I had always kept it long as a screw you to my old man. He had wanted my hair short for hunting but even as a child I enjoyed angering him. So I screamed bloody murder anytime the hair clippers came out, until someone in the next room complained to management. He eventually gave up when the cops got involved. The other aspect of my hair was its color. Dad said it was the same shade as my mom's. It was one of the few compliments I ever got from him.
I moved along my inspection of my hair to my eyes. My eyebrows were neatly shaped per Lydia's instruction, but in doing so she increased the noticeability of a scar I tried so hard to hide. It was my father's fault or maybe it was mine. I kept pestering him while he was drunk and may have said something to the effect of: Why should I give a rat's ass about Mary Winchester she's not my mother, she isn't anything to me. In his rage, he threw a beer bottle at my head. It shattered against the wall above me, and left a souvenir in the form of a deep cut above my eye. Now it just reminded me that I would forever be marked by John Winchester.
My eyes were the same green as Dean's. A medium forest green color that change shades according to my mood. Moving down my face to my nose, I see the only other feature said to look like my mom's. It's long and narrow like hers, but I don't really know. I don't have any pictures of her so I have not been able to verify anything people have said about her.
My mouth was Winchester to the smirk. It was on the wider side like Sam and Dad's but fuller like Dean's. It could shoot off insults and curses just as well as all three of them. And so it continued, face shape- Sam's, freckles-Dean, and so and so.
I look hard at the mirror trying to put the pieces of me together to see who I am. One by one my features merged together to form a face, but it wasn't my face it was John Winchester's. There was the hard glint in his eye, the warrior's stance, the battle scars, and the eff you smirk. And I hated him. I hated myself, because hallucination John or maybe he was really there, who knows… either way he was right. In an effort to be like my hero, my big brother Dean, I had unwittingly turned into him. An obsessed son of bitch who couldn't turn hunting off, who ran from her family, who let her pain fester, and let alcohol and sex play the part of a Band-Aid.
"Dye it." I announced, grabbing the attention of Lydia and the hairstylist.
"What?" Lydia asked.
"My hair, dye it." I clarified.
"Are you sure?"
I looked back at the image in the mirror before me. Dad was looking back at me with a smirk, like he was saying he knew I wouldn't go through it. Well screw you, John Winchester.
"I'm sure." I told the image in the mirror.
"Okay, so what should we do?" Lydia asked coming over to play with a few strands of my hair.
"I don't know." I told her, "Surprise me."
"Perfect," she said with a smile before heading back to the stylist. Once she left, I returned back to my stand-off with the man in the mirror and gave the fuming image the family smirk.
"So much for being me being your baby girl, right John?"
~Wayward Summer~
I rifled my hand through my new hair; it was definitely different that's for sure. The crown of head was still the same old blonde but it soon turned into a sunset pink before ending in a lilac purple. As strange as it was and despite the pink, I liked it. It was something totally un-Winchestery and would have been completely nixed by John. I knew it wasn't me either, but it was a step in the right direction.
Lydia and I had gone shopping after my hair was done, and it was surprisingly not terrible. When she first told me she was going to buy me a new wardrobe I feared she would end up dressing me like her, but she just amped up my own style. She bought me boots, other type of shoes, a green leather jacket that matched my eyes, torn jeans, dark jeans, various shirts, even a plaid rocker skirt, and a few plain cotton sundresses. Everything screamed me, even the cotton sundresses.
What surprised me even more than the clothes Lydia had picked out, was by the end of the day I was actually having fun. Lydia wasn't that bad, in fact I kind of liked her. She was force to be reckoned with, smart, blunt, and possessed a healthy dose of sarcasm that I admired in a person.
After our trip to the mall, Lydia drove me back to the Stilinski house and helped me carry my new stuff inside.
"Come on, my room's upstairs," I said heading up the steps. A moment later I heard her heeled footsteps behind me. I led her the rest of the way up the stairs and down the hall, stopping in front of my room. She had to open the door because my hands were full, since she had bought them for me I tried to carry as much as possible.
She went in before me and dropped the stuff on my bed. I followed after her and did the same. I looked up and noticed Lydia observing my room.
"Cute," she said eventually, "but not very you."
"Yeah," I replied, "the Sheriff said I could repaint the room the anyway I wanted. I plan on doing a night sky theme, but I haven't had time to go to the hardware store yet."
"I'm free on Thursday." She said, "I could take you and then help you with the room."
"Yeah?" I said in surprise, "that would be great."
"Perfect, now let's get these clothes put away." She said, before turning around with a frown, "Which bag has the hangers?"
"Uhh..." I said as I began digging through the bags, "Aha! Got 'em."
I handed over the hangers to her.
"Thank-you," she said before walking over to my closet. She looked inside, and then pulled her head out. She was wearing a confused frown again. She then moved over to my dresser and tugged on the knob of the middle drawer opening it.
"Where are your clothes?" she asked.
"Oh, I haven't unpacked yet." I said sheepishly.
"You've lived here for two months, and you haven't unpacked?" she asked. I just shrug. She narrows her eyes at me for a moment, "Well go get them, I'll help you unpack."
I sucked my lips in, biting them closed before nodding. I pulled my bag of clothes from underneath my bed and plopped it on my bed. She smiled in triumph and unzipped the bag and began pulling things out.
"First, we'll arrange the clothes on your bed and then put them away. I need to see what I'm working with outfit wise, and what needs to be hanged or can be placed in the dresser." She told me. I gave her a sarcastic smile and saluted her. She rolled her eyes and motioned for me to get to work.
So we worked for the next fifteen minutes on the stuff from my bag. Lydia would arrange outfits that she said were appropriate and tossed out two pairs of my jeans. I was kind of pissed by that, even though they had lived past their prime. After Lydia had gone through the bag she moved on to our new acquisitions. She was holding up the plaid skirt with a black button up sleeveless shirt up to me, when there was a knock on my door.
"Come in," Lydia called to the visitor. I gave her a look.
"I thought this was my room, Lydia?" I asked her as the door open.
"It is, but I'm the guest."
I snorted.
"Well it sounds like you two are getting-what did you do to your hair?" Stiles exclaimed. My hand automatically went up to my sunset hair.
"Oh, I had it dyed." I answered nonchalantly.
"Doesn't it look great? It turned out better than we had expected." Lydia added.
"It's pink." Stiles said. I shrugged and grabbed the outfit Lydia had put together and held it up against me. I turned to face the dresser mirror and turned side to side.
"This will look so great on you, it will really show off your legs." Lydia said. I smiled.
"They are my best feature." I said.
"It's not very practical," Stiles said, "you can only wear it for like another month anyway and I really would prefer it if you dressed more like a nun. You know, covered up."
Both Lydia and I gave me a look.
"Well I think that's enough fashion advice from the Poor and the Stiles." Lydia said marching over to Stiles and pushing him out of the room.
"Hey," he protested, "I'm just trying to protect her from teenage boys. I'm a teenaged boy; we're not very good people."
"Good-bye, Stiles." Lydia said as she closed the door. Once he was gone she turned back to me, "Now, where were we?"
"You were complimenting my legs." I told her. She rolled her eyes and went back to work arranging my new clothes.
"Hey, Lydia," I said as I put the skirt and top in my closet.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks," I said over my shoulder. She was quiet for a beat.
"Your welcome." She said.
"So for the room colors, I was thinking of doing two shades of blue and mixing some white in to give it a wispy look." I said as I came back over to the bed.
"That could be good, or do three showing the various stages of the falling night." Lydia offered. And so, two of us went for the next few hours, designing my room and arranging outfits. It was probably the most girliest thing I've done in my life. And it wasn't terrible, it was actually fun. I think I just made my first female friend my own age.
~Wayward Summer~
Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Review and let me know.