A/N: I was honestly not expecting it to be this long. It was just a plot bunny! How did it end up like this? (*muffled Killers music plays in the distance*)
Store after store, as more bags piled up on Lydia's arms. Allison sighed as she followed her friend into yet another store. Lydia always had a shopping spree after a successful job- according to her, they deserved it. It was one of the few things they agreed on, though going to so many places in one trip had to be one of Lydia's super powers. Something was off about this trip, though. The last few stores they were in, the employees looked distinctly uncomfortable. There was whispering and pointing, and a few of them had even tried to stop the girls from leaving. Something was definitely up.
So, at the next store, she grabbed an employee and asked, as sweetly as possible of course, "Why is everyone staring at us?"
"Uh," was all he said, but the darting of his eyes over to the TV in the corner was all Allison needed to know.
"Shit," she breathed, catching sight of her own face on the screen, followed by Lydia's. "Lydia," she said, grabbing her friend's arm.
"What?" Lydia asked, pulling her arm out of Allison's grip. She saw the screen and blanched. "Shit."
"Yeah. We gotta go," Allison started pulling her towards the exit. Lydia followed, tripping slightly over her heels.
"Wait," she snapped, wobbling dangerously. "Allison, wait," she jerked her friend's arm, pulling them both to a stop. "Where are we going to go? They know what we look like. We can't just go back to our hotel and hide out."
"We left the rest of the jewels there," Allison replied.
"So some maid is going to have a really great day," Lydia shot back. "We need somewhere else to go."
"Can we help?" Stiles asked, popping out from behind a bush.
"What the hell?!" Allison snapped, pulling her hand back from where it automatically jerked out to hit him.
"Hang on," he held up a finger, ignoring her as he tapped a message out on his phone. "You know," he said, pocketing the phone and staring at them with an I-can't-believe-I'm-actually-doing-this expression. "Going out shopping when you're the subject of an international manhunt is not the best idea."
"Considering we didn't know that we were being hunted, I don't think you can blame us," Allison shot back, crossing her arms. "And how did you find us, anyway?"
"I looked," he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Now, come one. We've got a safe house you guys can borrow."
"Whoa, whoa," Lydia held up a hand, an impressive feat considering how many bags were on her arm. "You want us to come with you? Did you stop and think that there is a very short list of people who could have sold us out, and you happen to be at the very top?"
"Well, we didn't," he rolled his eyes. "I can't believe Scott thought this was a good idea."
"Wait, this was Scott's idea?" Allison broke in, ignoring the warm fluttering that suddenly broke out in her stomach.
"Yeah," Stiles shrugged. "He even called his friend in the FBI to make sure you guys didn't get busted. They're probably already on their way here, seeing how you've been parading about shopping," he waved his hands about. "So will you please hurry up? I really don't want to be here when you get arrested."
"Fine," Lydia swept past him, nose in the air. "I hope the security on your safe house is up to my standards."
"Oh, it is," said Stiles, his chest inflating a bit. "Top of the line surveillance. Have to have the best, you know?"
"Mmm," Lydia considered it for a moment. "No." Stiles spluttered, mouth hanging open and arms waving about as he followed. Allison trailed behind them, only half listening. Scott's idea. His grin clenched in her stomach, following a glittering trail of green through the air. She shouldn't feel so happy about this. He took her piece, showed her up, then when they met again at the fence... She shook her head. They used the same fence. She couldn't believe it. Sure, Peter was the only one in LA insane enough to take jewels that hot, but there was an entire country between LA and the Duke's castle in Scotland. When they were done with all of this, she would have words with Lydia about finding a new fence. Or, about changing cities. Sure, LA was great, but so was New York. Or Boston. Allison could get behind Boston, and there were enough coeds to keep Lydia happy for at least a year. And there were no dark heads and wide, white smiles to fog her head and make her miss something, like she clearly had. Otherwise, they wouldn't be on the run from the FBI now.
"Stiles!" the one voice she didn't want to hear called over the crowd. A waving arm appeared briefly by the bus stop, and Lydia and Stiles unfortunately headed that direction. Allison sucked in a girding breath and followed them.
A wave of relief washed over Scott as he spotted Stiles' shaved head bobbing behind a redheaded girl, followed by a brunette. "Stiles!" he yelled, hopping briefly on the bench and waving. The woman next to him gave him a dirty look as he hopped down. "Sorry," he grinned at her, but she only rolled her eyes and turned away.
"Stiles tells me this was your idea," Lydia announced without preamble, her tone slightly accusing.
"Uh. Yeah," Scott leaned forward, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Is that an issue?"
"No," she tossed her hair. "But that means you get to carry my bags." His vision suddenly filled with layers of plastic and cardboard, handles dangling precariously from fingertips. He instinctively grabbed at them to keep them from falling, and Lydia sauntered away to the bus, hands now free of everything she had been holding.
"Stiles?" Scott hoped he didn't sound too pleading.
"Nope," his friend followed Lydia, humming cheerfully.
"Here," a new voice said, taking the bags out of his left hand. A small whiff of perfume drifted over him as Allison rearranged the ones she held so they were in both hands. "One person shouldn't carry all of it."
"Does she always buy this much?" Scott asked, barely squeezing onto the bus next to her.
"Only after a big job," Allison replied, and Scott got the impression that she was purposely not looking at him. "She says she deserves it. Which, she does. I'd never get anywhere without her-" the bus jostled, and they both stumbled as the floor shifted. Scott caught himself just short of running into her.
"Are you okay?" he asked, startled by her sudden nearness, brown curls falling in a soft halo around her face.
"I'm fine," she replied, biting off the end of the sentence, still not looking at him.
"Did I do something wrong?" the question popped out of his mouth, and she (finally!) looked at him, her soft brown eyes unreadable.
"You're a thief," she said, as though that was an explanation.
"So are you," he shrugged. "Is that a problem?"
"Why do we keep running into each other?" she asked, rather than answering.
"Fate, maybe?"
"Fate doesn't exist."
He had to smile. "According to a few forums on the internet, I don't exist."
A grin began to tug at the edges of her lips. "Really? You're basing your argument on internet forums?"
"Well," he leaned back, trying to still the flip-flop of his stomach. "They're entertaining, at least."
She shook her head, hiding the curve of her lips behind a curtain of hair. "You're ridiculous."
"But it made you smile," he said, almost without thinking. Her head shot up, smile vanishing, and she stared at him for a long moment. He swallowed, feeling the heat creep up his neck as she stared.
"I suppose," she said after a long moment, her forehead creasing. She looked back out the window, sinking a sudden, strange feeling of loss into his stomach.
"This is a safe house?" Lydia asked, barely bothering to conceal the tone of disgust in her voice. "Does it even count as a house?"
Allison had to agree. The building was practically crumbling, slightly charred wood around the edges of the frame showing it had been in a fire some time ago. Fresh paint on the door and a newer looking roof improved it somewhat, but it still gave off the distinct impression of dereliction and disuse.
"Hey, don't complain," Stiles jumped up the stairs and rapped on the door. "It's never failed us before. Hey Deaton," he pushed past the guy that opened the door. "Brought some friends."
"So I see," the man said, peering down his nose at the girls. Allison shifted nervously under the weight of his gaze, feeling like he was seeing a lot more than she wanted him to. "I take it I'm free for the night, then?"
"Yep," Stiles' voice echoed back out of the house. "Go nuts."
Deaton laughed. "Yes, I'm sure I will." He jogged down the steps, nodding at the girls and Scott as he passed. "Have a good night."
"See ya, Doc," Scott waved, nearly shaking one of the bags loose. "Oh, crap-!" He and Allison caught it at the same time, their fingertips barely brushing.
"Sorry," she stepped back, willing her fingers to stop tingling. She wasn't seventeen anymore. This crush, or whatever it was, was stupid, and she was done with it. "Lydia," she went to link arms with her friend instead. "Do you have anything in those bags that might fit me? I get the feeling we're going to be here for a while."
"Mmm, maybe," the redhead shrugged as they sailed up the steps into the house. "Whether or not I'll let you wear them in this house, though," her nose wrinkled at the worn furniture, the peeling wallpaper, and the cracked floorboards in the corner that let a curling vie up into the room, "is a different story."
"We've got clothes you can borrow if you need to," Scott said, depositing the bags in a corner of what apparently passed for the living room.
"No," Lydia gingerly picked her way around him. "I'm going to see if the upstairs is just as gross. Keep Allison busy, would you?"
"Lydia!" Allison tried to follow her, but she was long gone, picking her way up creaky steps, Stiles in tow.
"So," Scott said, leaning against the couch.
"So," Allison agreed, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall.
"Where did you learn to fight like that?" he asked after a long moment.
"What?"
He shuffled his feet, looking down a bit. "At the fence's place. You dropped me like it was nothing."
"Yeah, so?" she asked, not quite seeing where this was going.
"I can count the number of people that have done that on one hand," he said, looking at her from under his lashes. A shy smile danced across his face. "And none of them were girls."
"What does being a girl have to do with it?" Allison levered herself off the wall, facing him squarely. "I could do it again just as easily."
"Oh really?" he pushed himself off the couch, mimicking her stance. "You think you could?"
"I know I could," she cocked her head to one side, allowing a small grin to escape. "Or are you scared of losing to a girl?"
"I'm scared of hurting you," he said, in that bluntly honest way he had. It seemed to be a trend of his, speaking the truth in such a way that it sent shivers up her neck.
So, she let herself grin a little wider and uncrossed her arms. "You won't."
He half-smiled himself, rolling forward onto the balls of his feet. They just watched each other for a moment, the space of a held breath. Then, he swung forward, arm whipping up in a strike that would have caught someone slower. Allison blocked, flicking a kick at his midsection, he jumped back, dropping to sweep a foot under her. She sprung over it, backhanding him in the face. His head snapped back from the blow, a small spot of blood seeping from a split lip. He wiped it off, grinning. "You're fantastic," he said, shaking his head in astonishment. She let herself have a moment to preen, which he promptly took to throw another punch at her. When she blocked, though, he twisted and grabbed her arm, wrapping it around his own and bending her down. "Do you give?" he asked, half-jokingly.
"Not a chance," she snapped her head back, catching the edge of his chin. His grip loosened and she bounded away, falling back into a karate form like her lessons were just yesterday. She felt herself actually smiling now, enjoying herself. She hadn't had a really good fight in a while, and she wasn't about to deny that a tussle with an attractive guy was fun. "Come on, then."
He shook his head, a smile growing on his own face. Suddenly, he snapped forward, faster than before. It took one, two, three strikes and she was down, flat on her back on the floor with Scott on top of her. "Do you give now?" he asked, breath warm against her face. Her throat constricted at the contact, his hands pinning her arms over her head, the heat of his body felt all down the length of hers. It was closer than she had been to any guy in… well, months. After that fight, it was all she could do to stop her hips from rising and fitting to his.
"Why don't you get off me and find out?" she finally said, finding her voice beneath the breathless flood of want that swamped her. He grinned instead, eyes flicking down to her lips. His breath hitched slightly, the grin vanishing as he lowered himself, slowly, imperceptibly.
A loud clatter broke the spell, Scott scrambling off of her to stand awkwardly on the other side of the room. "I didn't interrupt anything, did I?" Stiles asked from where he was sprawled over one of Lydia's bags. "No? Ooookay," he skittered backwards, out of the room and out from under the force of Scott's glare.
Scott glanced at her one last time, briefly, apologetically, and left her there on the floor, body suddenly cold from the lack of contact and unfamiliar coils of lust tightening in her stomach. She sat up, her limbs starting to stiffen after the looseness of the fight faded away. "I am so screwed," she said to herself, quietly in the gloom.