Hi Guys!

This is a (very) short one, but it's not to far after my last update, so I hope you'll forgive me :)

Also, I should probably note that this is now considered AU. The first 2 seasons are still canon for this story, but anything after that should be disregarded.

I'm loving the reviews from everyone! This chapter is for Thiswasmade4me. Your comment was really sweet so thanks (the program won't let me do a heart, but I'm sending one metaphorically!)

Also, this story had had nearly 5000 hits total (writer say what now?!). I love you all a ridiculous amount!

xxx

P.S. I thought I should probably tell you that the first, on-the-lips Stydia kiss for this story is planned for chapter nine. That is all :)

VII

Under the Mistletoe

The windows of his room were frosted over for the third time that week, Stiles mused as he pulled his sweater over his head. Stiles had never really minded winter, seeing it as an excuse to stay in and watch movies. After Thanksgiving three weeks ago, Stiles had only become closer to Lydia. She had been right when she said that Scott and Allison spent even more time with each other, and the unlikely pair had made the best of the time they spent together. Stiles was teaching Lydia how to cook (a harder task then it sounded), and Lydia had taken Stiles shopping for both of their respective wardrobes. Today, though, he was heading out for their final study session before the Christmas break. And to give her the present he had been hiding in the top of his closet ever since it had arrived two weeks previously. He took the damp towel off his bed and ran it through his hair, before carding a hand through it to make it stand up and hooking the towel over the hook on his door. Then, shouldering his backpack containing a festively wrapped parcel and some school books, he picked up his keys and left the empty house, locking the door behind him.

As Stiles got into his Jeep and turned on the cheap heating system as high as it would go, he was glad that the present was in his bag. He had contemplated long and hard whether or not to get Lydia a present. Stiles had always loved her, that fact was clear, but now he knew her, which was a foreign concept for him. And, because he knew her so well, he knew that Lydia wasn't a fan of Christmas because of what it represented to her; an excuse for her parents to use her as a pawn in their post-marital argument. For all the analysis that he had gone through, when he turned onto Lydia's street and pulled into her driveway, he knew he had made the right decision. She had taken the saddest day of his year and filled it with laughter again. When he had gone home that night, he had dreamt of the memories he had of his mother. She had smiled in the dream, her eyes sparkling with the light of her favourite holiday and the company of her beloved son. Stiles had woken with tears in his eyes. That was the moment when he knew that he had to do for Lydia what she had done for him; he had to make sure she knew that at least one person got her something she hadn't asked for, but would love because it meant something to her personally. Not just a big, shiny car or a new handbag.

Stiles knocked, and Lydia opened the door wide, letting him into her house.

"Is that actual gingerbread I smell," Stiles asked, surprised.

"Yes," Lydia told him, motioning to the kitchen. "I figured you were probably hungry. Since you usually always are." Stiles followed her, his stomach rumbling at the warm smell wafting through the house.

Stiles is halfway through an essay on Edgar Allan Poe when Lydia says, "So I kind of got you something." His face obviously betrayed his surprise, because she hurried on with, "It's not major or anything. But since we're friends I wanted to get you something to say thanks for being there when I needed you. And, you know, 'tis the season and all that."

Stiles broke into loud laughter. Lydia wasn't particularly happy with that, and frowned slightly before raising an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry, Lydia. I'm not laughing at you, I promise. I actually bought you something too," Stiles replied, fishing his clumsily wrapped present out of his backpack. Lydia's forehead smoothed out, and she smiled, getting up and pulling a rectangular-shaped, bow-topped Christmas box from under her bed.

"You first," Stiles said, after the gifts were given to their recipients.

"Okay," Lydia replied eagerly, pulling back the paper. As Stiles watched, her eyes widened and she drew in a breath. Wrapping her hands around the gray fabric that was sitting in the remains of the wrappings, she unfolded the large sweatshirt.

"Oh my God," Lydia said, her hands flying to her mouth. The sweatshirt in front of her was now fully spread out so the bold red text on the front proclaiming 'Stanford' was facing upwards. Green met brown and she asked, "how did you even know that's where I applied?"

"When we first started studying you left me in here for a few minutes one day because your mother wanted to talk to you. I may or may not have looked around and noticed that you had a brochure on your desk that was particularly worse for wear. I double checked and it was the 2010 catalogue. So, when I thought about your present a couple of weeks ago, I figured this was something that you might not need, but that you'd enjoy," Stiles told her. "Besides, if anyone is going to get into Stanford on academic merit alone, it's going to be you, Lydia. Hell, I might even get in if you keep tutoring me in Physics."

Lydia stood up from the bed and grabbed Stiles' hands, pulling him up from his seat in her desk chair. Stiles looked down at her in confusion, but quickly responded when she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist and buried her face in his chest. Stiles soaked up her warmth and the smell of the perfume she always wore, trying desperately to slow his racing pulse. It was all good and well when they were joking around or studying, but when Lydia poured herself into him and pressed their bodies together he was as nervous and awkward as he used to be. When she pulled back, he hands still on his waist, her eyes were sparkling with unshed tears.

"Thanks, Stiles," she said, thickly, and sniffed and blinked away the tears. Stiles smiled and gave her another squeeze, before letting her move back to the bed. She looked at him expectantly, and he picked up the present she had given him. It was beautifully wrapped in shiny green paper and tied with red ribbon- in other words, it was entirely Lydia. Stiles made quick work of the bow, and then found the tiny slivers of tape that held the paper together, carefully peeling back the wrappings. When he saw the cover of the book he smiled. "You got me a health food book?" Stiles asked, laughter in his voice.

"Well, it's actually more of a recipe book. My grandfather had a heart attack about four years ago, and this is the thing that Grandma used to make sure that he wasn't eating bad food behind his back. It's full of tips to make healthy meals taste better without adding anything that's bad for you," Lydia explained. "I thought your dad might appreciate some flavour in the tofu."

It was one of the most thoughtful gifts that Stiles had ever been given. Not only was it something unexpected, it was something that he could use. The look that was shared between them was warm, and crackled like a new log on a fire.

"Thanks, Lyds. Really. Best present ever," Stiles said, his voice cracking slightly. Stiles was almost speechless, a trait only Lydia seemed to cause in him, but he knew that she knew what this present was for him. It was a way to acknowledge his pain, but to help him make the best of an awful truth. Not too long after that, Stiles and Lydia returned to studying, both with smiles on their faces.

Anyone who watched Stiles and Lydia together could see how they burned for each other. Despite the absence of her usual coquettishness, Lydia gave more genuine smiles to Stiles in a day than she used to give to Jackson in a week. So, when they parted ways on the doorstep that night, anyone who was watching closely would have noticed Stiles' hands shook just a little when Lydia pecked him on the cheek. Or the way that Lydia twirled a curl around her finger and looked out from under her long eyelashes. Or even- after they had both gone to their respective homes- the way their showers were turned on, and any music was turned up so that the muffled moans and grunts of two sexually frustrated people were not heard by unsuspecting family members. But- even after all of this was done and the respective parties were lying in their beds, with lights dimmed- the way that Lydia noticed hoe Stiles' smell lingered on the fabric of the oversized sweater she was curled up in, or the spark in Stiles' eyes as he devoured the book that Lydia had given him could not be ignored.

Fate is a funny thing to think about. They say that life never gives us anything we can't handle. But for the two teenagers who were being drawn together like the moon pulls the tides, there would not be peace forever. Because even as Lydia breathed in the smell of the shirt she was in, the first time she had noticed the woodsy, pine-tree smell of Stiles had been several years before they had become friends. And- Lydia acknowledged- there would come a time where she would have to reveal the truth.