Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading and reviewing this story! It can sometimes be hard to write for Stiles/Lydia, simply because the response isn't as loud as it is in other fandoms (I write for Walking Dead, too.) But y'all are making me feel so loved. And here we are - the first REAL interaction between our two favorites. I hope you appreciate that they have a lot to work through and that Malia and Dave will both play a part in the story/not just be plot devices. Don't worry, I won't wait forever to get them together. Let me know what you think, as always!

Also, next chapter is my favorite thing - parties and drunk characters!

Song inspiration: Here is Where - There Will Be Fireworks

The look on his face is a new one for her. Sad, resigned, none of the young eagerness that had defined him before they really knew each other. He walks more purposefully than he used to and she wonders if that can be attributed to an aftershock from a possession that had turned him into a swaggering, smirking shell. Or maybe in her absence he had finally grown into who he was supposed to be. Maybe his love for her had stifled him before.

He has his eyes focused on her as he approaches, winding between gravestone to reach them, but he doesn't say a word. Her senses feel very loud, and the slightest shift from Scott has her turning to look at him. He's standing up slowly, so she takes her cue and rises as well, self-consciously tugging down her skirt.

It's a strange thinking to look at someone you love after time away. You see things you never saw before. It's like you didn't appreciate them enough when they were right in front of you and the time apart has made you nostalgic and emotional over the moles dotting their neck or their anxious, long fingers. Lydia had been pretending for months to have changed, but this is the first time she feels it. It's like she has new eyes - did Stiles always have such pale skin? Did he always turn up the sides of his mouth that way?

And her lack of memory serves as another thing to feel guilty for.

As Stiles stops in front of them, Scott does his thing. The thing where he makes everyone around him uncomfortable in an attempt to diffuse tension. It's like the hammering of their combined heartbeats in his ears drives him slightly mad, because he's leaping between them, hugging Stiles much too enthusiastically - as though they're the ones who've been apart for months. Stiles reaches up to hug him back, albeit a little less excitably, dark eyes meeting Lydia's over his best friend's shoulder. She looks down.

"Stiles!" Scott all but shouts, and then realizing where he is and who he stands between and why they are all here, mumbles, "Glad you came."

His sudden shift in demeanor makes Stiles tear his gaze away from her face, features softening slightly as he registers that Scott is, as always, completely fucking this up. "Yeah man, of course." He claps Scott on the back, before glancing back at Lydia. She meets his eyes this time, and she knows he sees something he wasn't expecting from his quickly shifting expression. Anger. Sadness. Confusion. Guilt. Happiness. But all he says is a simple "Hey Lydia." He doesn't move to touch her.

"Hey, Stiles."

"Lydia's planning on sticking around a while. Isn't that awesome!?" Scott stays in between them, face tilted away from her so she can't see his expression. But she does catch the not so subtle glance he throws Allison's gravestone, and his intention is clear enough. This isn't the time or place for whatever this is.

It's as though the brutal honesty of her tearful breathing and his admission of missing her can't translate past late night phone calls. Stiles face is impassive as he regards her. "Yeah, that really is. Lydia, that's great." It sounds earnest but distanced – he has no stakes in whether she's here or elsewhere, a phantom voice on a telephone line.

...

Silence settles between the three old friends, not altogether comfortable. Stiles breaks it first. He gestures to the tombstone. "Should we, uh, should we do something?"

Scott shrugs, looking a little terrified to make a move. It's clear the boys have never been out here together. Lydia hadn't been back since the funeral. This is strange ground for all of them. As though compelled by some outside force, they line up facing the grave, Scott and Stiles on either side of Lydia. It's moments like these that test Lydia's belief that this all real. The four of them had been through so much together. Other people had come in and of their lives – Jackson, Isaac, Kira, Malia, the twins. But it had always been the four of them – movie nights and unintentional sleepovers and studying and laughing and screaming and living through nightmares. As many times as she reads her best friend's tombstone, it will never make sense to her. It should be the four of them, like always.

As though sensing her thoughts, Scott reaches out to grab her hand. He feels so warm and alive that it makes Lydia's eyes water. Though the fear of rejection has her mind screaming to stop, she can't help but reach out her other hand, fingers searching for Stiles. Her hand brushes the back of his and after a heartbeat, his fingers are winding around hers. Lydia looks up at him and though she's sure he can sense her gaze, he doesn't meet her eyes. Instead, he stares ahead, jaw tightening slightly.

Accepting this, she turns back to Allison. Strangely, she can't help but feel happier than she has in a year. She has her boys on either side, tethered to her in the most tangible touch she's felt in a long time. Maybe she's not alone as she thought.

...

"Hey, there's this thing tomorrow night. At Derek's place."

She turns to look at the two of them, already having been making her way to her car after a short wave and a smile goodbye.

"What do you mean a thing?" Lydia can feel her face shifting into her patented suspicious expression. Realization dawns on her a second later. "Wait, do you mean a party?"

Scott lets out a bark of a laugh. "Yeah, like we haven't done that before."

Lydia scoffs, shifting so she's facing them more fully, hands on her hips. "The last party we all went to was at my lake house and like usual, some of us almost died. We aren't so good at parties, remember?"

Stiles and Scott share a look. It's not like she doesn't have a point.

"Well, it's been months since then. And it's Malia's birthday, so we want to do something special." Stiles' hand nervously scratches the back of his neck when he says this and suddenly he's the boy she knew at sixteen. Afraid of disappointing her at all costs.

Unfortunately for them both, there's no ignoring the pang of jealousy in her stomach and the anxiousness of her shaking hands.

"Oh. Well okay, I'll try and be there."

Stiles merely nods in response and Scott smiles, walking forward to embrace her again. "I'm so glad you're back, Lyds," he whispers into her hair.

And he might not be the one she wants to hear it from, but she responds with a tentative smile all the same.