"...for her now it could no longer be fairy-tale castles and princesses, but the strangness of here and now, of what passed between people, the ordinary people that she knew, and what power one could have over the other, and how easy it was to get everything wrong, completely wrong."-Ian McEwan, Atonement

Lydia collapsed on the bed in her old bedroom, trying not to hear her mother calling her father downstairs. She briefly wondered why she had let her mom talk her into taking back her old bedroom.

"It's only for a few months and I'm always at work, so you can have friends over."

"I am twenty-three years old, I think I'll be okay living in an apartment. Besides, Allison offered her place while I'm here."

"No, you'll be staying here." Natalie said and Lydia sighed.

"Fine but no curfew." Lydia said and Natalie sighed.

Now, upstairs in her bedroom, Lydia wished she had werewolf ears so she could hear what her parents were saying. Instead, she heard her phone ringing and reached into her

purse.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Allison greeted, sounding angry and amused all at once.

"What are you talking about?" Lydia asked; the headache that had set in as soon as they entered Mion coming back in full throttle.

"Why didn't you tell me you were dating Cora Hale?"

Lydia gritted her teeth. "Stiles told Scott, didn't he?"

"Yeah along with the rest of the pack."

"We're not a pack Allison."

She left Beacon Hills behind and the long-forgotten nickname made her heart twinge.

"So is it true?" Allison asked and Lydia could practically see the girl biting the skin around her thumb, a habit she had also forgotten about.

"Yes and no." Lydia said.

"What does that mean?"

"You have to swear not to tell anyone. Not even your fiancé."

"What am I, Stiles? Mi secreto es tu secreto."

Lydia sighed and flipped over looking up at her pink ceiling. She always loved the color. It reminded her of home.

"I didn't want my mom to stress out about my living situation up at MIT so I told her I was dating someone. When we went out to eat we bumped into Stiles and Malia. In order to

stop myself from committing murder on the lanky, freckled, boy, I snuck out to take a sip from my flask."

"You kept that?"

"It's a stupid gift but it's a useful one. Besides, this was an emergency. Anyway, as I was drinking, Cora jumped out from behind a dumpster, all wolfed out. She thought I was

gonna attack her or something."

"Well, she's a Hale and this is Beacon Hills. You can't really blame her."

"I can and I did. As my shitty luck would have it, my mom walked by and before I knew what was happening, she thought Cora and I were dating."

"And you didn't tell her different?"

"No. Cora tried to but then I convinced her to play along. It's only for a few months. Besides, I'm not gonna see her often anyway."

"I don't know Lydia. This is a pretty small town. And your mom doesn't seem like the type to not give Cora the 3rd degree."

A knock at the door and the sound of her mom calling her made her stop talking.

"I have to go."

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Tell your girlfriend I said hi."

"Your sense of humour has rapidly degraded Argent." Lydia growled into the phone.

She left the bed and bounded downstairs where she found Cora and her mom, standing across from each other. Natalie seemed to be laughing at something Cora said.

"What are you doing here?" Lydia asked and Natalie turned to give her a look.

"Is that anyway to talk to your girlfriend?" Cora asked, leaning against the door.

"Come on Matchstick, I know you're mad, but I bought a piece offering."

She held out Lydia's jacket and Lydia took it.

"Where did you find this?" she asked, immediately noticing it wasn't her jacket.

"In the alley. But I admit I came with an alterior motive."

Cora turned towards Natalie. "Ma'am, I am sorry for that horrendous display back at the restaurant. My name is Cora Hale and it is an absolute delight to meet you."

Natalie shook Cora's hand as Lydia stood still. She wasn't sure if this was a nightmare or not.

"I'm sorry I couldn't stick around, Ms. Martin. I had to get back to work. My manager's been on my case lately."

"Don't worry sweetie, that's completely fine." Natalie said, stepping back and gesturing towards the hallway.

"Trust me, I'm sure we'll get to know each other just fine."

"I hope so." Cora said. "I want to know all of Lydia's embarrassing stories."

"Trust me, there are plenty."

While the two laughed, Lydia nearly screamed.

"Mom! Can I talk to Cora upstairs?"

Cora tilted her head at Lydia, her lips quirked up into a smile. She was absolutely enjoying this.

Natalie nodded, confused at her daughters behavior.

Cora followed Lydia up the stairs and grinned when Natalie shouted, "The door stays open!"

Lydia dropped the jacket on to her bed and waited a second to make sure her mom wasn't listening. She turned around to see Cora reading the titles of the books she had left

behind. She pulled out a black and white book and looked at Lydia.

"Silverstein. My favorite. I really like-"

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Lydia harshly whispered.

Cora put the book back and grinned.

"I'm just here to pay my girlfriend a visit after work."

"Is this some sick joke?"

"What, the fake girlfriend part or me giving you hell for it?"

"Both."

"You said I have to pretend we're dating and I agreed. This is what girlfriend's do. If I'm gonna act, I'm gonna act well, Lydia Martin."

She patted her jeans and looked at Lydia. "Besides, I finally figured out what my part of the bargain is."

Lydia crossed her arms as she waited for Cora to fish out a piece of paper from her pocket. She gave it to Lydia who looked at it.

"I'm not buying you the continent of Europe."

"No, it's not-" Cora rolled her eyes and jutted a finger at the label. Lydia squinted.

"Basel, Switzerland? I'm sorry, I don't think you realize this, but I'll be more specific, I AM NOT BUYING YOU ANY SORT OF LAND IN EUROPE."

"Really, really? No you genius moron, I want you to buy me a plane ticket."

"To Basel?"

"Or any European city of my choice."

Lydia sighed. "That costs money."

"Pretending to be in love with you costs me things more precious than money. Like my sanity and my patience. I figure this will even us out."

Lydia sighed. "Fine. If we pull this off and I leave Beacon Hills with my mother happy, I'll buy you the plane ticket."

Cora held out her hand and they shook.

She turned to leave but Lydia called her again.

"Oh and please come up with a better nickname. 'Matchstick' really? I know you Hale's aren't the smartest but you can do a lot better."

"How about Little-Miss-Pink-Wearing-Pain-in-the-Ass."

"That's fine. I have one for you Cora 'Can't Wear Anything But Black' Hale. I mean is it a werewolf thing? Do bright colors hurt your eyes?"

Cora rolled her eyes and looked around the room. "You have no right to criticize my color sense when your room looks like this."

"I was young."

"You moved out when you were seventeen. That's not young enough to excuse this disgusting room. You're not a princess anymore, Matchstick."

Cora turned to leave when Lydia remembered the jacket. She grabbed it and looked at Cora.

"By the way, this isn't mine."

Cora looked at the jacket and then at Lydia.

"I know."

She left without another word.

Lydia paused, wondering if the girl would come back. When she didn't she slumped back down on her bed and picked up her phone.

She texted Allison.

"She met my mom. If I don't survive till your wedding, you'll know why."

She put down her phone and gazed at the ceiling, thinking of what Cora had said. She remembered back in sixth grade when her dad had helped her paint her favorite poem on

the ceiling in sweeping curly letters. Though it was painted over when she entered high school, Lydia remembered every word.

"Draw a crazy picture,

Write a nutty poem,

Sing a mumble-gumble song,

Whistle through your comb.

Do a loony-goony dance

'Cross the kitchen floor,

Put something silly in the world

That ain't been there before."

She turned over and pushed the jacket aside. It was only when she heard the clang as it hit the ground that she inspected it. Inside the dark jacket, was her flask, wrapped up tight. Lying next to the flask was a note scrawled in messy, handwriting.

"Bottom's up Matchstick Martin."

She groaned and scrunched up the paper. She could practically see Cora's grin as she wrote the note. She turned over and closed her eyes, trying to wipe the image of Cora's smirk from her mind.