AN: A little extra update for you today because I was feeling generous . It's summer, and Jamie is bored - hope you enjoy it!

Next chapter will pick up the story again, and the drama will be back with full force!

The ceiling fan whirred lazily overhead, pushing warm air around the McCall living room. The TV was on, but neither of them were really watching it.

Jamie lay sprawled across the couch, her back on the seat cushions and her legs hooked over the backrest, one arm hanging off the side, fingers lightly brushing the floor. Stiles was lying next to her, his head against the armrest, his legs tangled with hers.

They were both bored out of their minds.

Jamie popped a chip into her mouth, chewing slowly. "We're the only normal ones left, you know that?"

Stiles turned his head to look at her. "I mean… define normal."

Jamie gestured vaguely, the chip bag rustling in her lap. "Not a werewolf, not a hunter, not a whatever the hell Lydia is—just normal."

"Lydia's still normal," Stiles pointed out.

Jamie scoffed. "She got bitten by Peter, and nothing happened. That's not normal."

Stiles considered that. "Okay, yeah, fair point."

Silence stretched between them, filled only by the hum of the fan and the occasional crunch of a chip.

Allison was in Europe, Lydia was off helping Jackson adjust to his new life, and Derek and Isaac were out trying to track down Erica and Boyd. The summer had settled into an odd kind of quiet, but it wasn't exactly peaceful. It just felt empty.

After a moment, Stiles turned his head again. "Why aren't you spending the summer with your dad? You usually go for, like, a month."

Jamie's body tensed.

She shifted, reaching for another chip, though she didn't eat it. "Didn't feel like it this year."

Stiles frowned. "Why not?"

Jamie scoffed under her breath, finally popping the chip into her mouth. "Not like he cared enough to visit me when I was in the hospital."

Stiles stilled.

His head turned toward her fully now, like he wanted to say something, but he didn't. He just watched her. Jamie kept her eyes on the ceiling, crunching on another chip like she hadn't just admitted something that made her stomach twist.

After a few seconds, Stiles let out a breath and turned his attention back to the TV.

Neither of them said anything else about it.

Instead, Jamie nudged his knee with her foot. "Alright, next topic. Who's winning in a fight: me or a mountain lion?"

Stiles scoffed. "That's not even a fight. You'd be destroyed."

Jamie rolled her eyes. "Wow, okay. No faith."

"I have plenty of faith—in the mountain lion."

Jamie grabbed a chip and chucked it at his face. "You suck."

Stiles grinned, popping the chip into his mouth. "And yet, you choose to hang out with me."

Jamie sighed dramatically. "Yeah, yeah. My tragic mistake."

Stiles smirked, turning his attention back to the TV. Jamie let her head roll to the side, watching him for a moment before doing the same.

Stiles let out an exaggerated sigh, stretching his arms over his head. "Alright, let's talk about something actually interesting. Like… when did you last talk to Derek?"

Jamie turned her head toward him, unimpressed. "Not talking about that with you."

Stiles sighed dramatically beside her, shifting so his feet hung off the armrest.

"Fine. But this is pathetic," he declared. "It's summer. We should be out doing summer things."

Jamie snorted. "Like what? Getting attacked by supernatural creatures at a pool party? Oh, wait. That already happened."

"Okay, fair," Stiles admitted. "But come on, something." He thought for a second. "We could go to the mall. People do that, right?"

Jamie turned her head, giving him a look. "What, and watch you drool over Lydia at a distance? No thanks."

"I do not drool," Stiles said, affronted.

Jamie smirked. "Sure. And Scott doesn't have a hero complex."

Stiles groaned, throwing an arm over his face. "Why are you attacking me today?"

"I'm bored," Jamie said simply.

They lapsed into silence for a bit, both lost in their own thoughts. Jamie absentmindedly reached for more chips, and Stiles cleared his throat.

"So… speaking of Scott," he started, glancing at her. "You two have been weird."

Jamie exhaled through her nose, tilting her head back. "We're not weird."

"You are weird," Stiles insisted. "Like, weird weird. You used to tell each other everything. And now it's like—" he waved his hands in the air, "—unspoken tension or whatever. Did something happen?"

Jamie sighed, staring at the ceiling again. "Nothing happened."

Stiles gave her a flat look. "Right. Because people just stop being close for no reason."

Jamie hesitated. "It's just different now. He's dealing with his own stuff. I'm dealing with mine."

"That's a cop-out answer," Stiles said.

Jamie rolled her eyes. "Maybe, but it's the one you're getting."

Stiles huffed, but let it go. "Fine. What about Jackson? You guys okay now that he's officially not a lizard anymore?"

Jamie pursed her lips. "I mean, I'm not mad at him. But we're not exactly braiding each other's hair either."

"Right, because that would be normal," Stiles muttered. "Do you miss him?"

Jamie hesitated. "I don't know. I guess I miss what we could have been. But, like—" she sighed, adjusting her position. "He and Lydia have something real. And that's fine."

Stiles watched her for a beat. "You know, that almost sounded convincing."

Jamie threw a chip at him. "Shut up."

He grinned, snatching it off his chest and eating it. "So, if not Jackson… then Derek?"

Jamie groaned. "I told you, I'm not talking about that with you."

Stiles smirked. "Why not? I thought girls loved to gossip about guys they've been with."

Jamie turned her head, eyes narrowing challengingly. "Why don't we talk about all the girls you've been with?"

Stiles instantly froze. "Uh—wha—I mean—" He stammered for a second, then sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

Jamie grinned, zeroing in on his sudden discomfort. "You've gone awfully red, Stilinski."

"I have not," he denied instantly, but his ears were betraying him, burning bright pink.

Jamie just raised a brow, waiting.

Stiles sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Fine. I've never been with anyone, alright? There, happy?"

Jamie blinked. "Oh." She didn't tease him, didn't make some sarcastic remark. Instead, she just shrugged. "You've still got time."

Stiles let out a breath, staring up at the ceiling. "Yeah. I guess." He frowned slightly. "I dunno. Sometimes I feel like I repel women."

Jamie barked out a laugh. "No, you don't."

"Then what is it?" Stiles asked, exasperated. "Is it my face? My personality? Am I just tragically undatable?"

Jamie studied him for a second, then smirked. "Nah, you're cute."

Stiles blinked, turning to look at her. "…Wait, really?"

She nodded, then squinted. "But you should grow your hair out."

He looked offended. "What's wrong with my hair?"

"There's nothing wrong with it," Jamie said. "But girls like something to hold onto."

Stiles opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "Okay, that was wildly inappropriate."

Jamie just smirked, popping another chip into her mouth.

Stiles was still gaping at her, like he wasn't sure whether to be offended or flustered. Jamie just smirked, waiting.

Finally, he huffed. "Okay, so ignoring whatever that was—what do you mean, grow my hair out?"

Jamie shrugged, stuffing another chip in her mouth. "Just saying. Girls like something to run their fingers through. You'd get more action."

Stiles scoffed. "Oh, and you're the authority on this now?"

"I know more than you, don't I?"

His face went red again. "That's—beside the point."

Jamie just smirked, satisfied.

Stiles shook his head, exhaling dramatically. "Unbelievable. I come here, offering my company—my presence—because I know you'd just be moping around all summer otherwise, and this is the thanks I get? Roasted for my hair?"

Jamie snorted. "Oh please, you're the one who invited yourself over."

"Details."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment. The ceiling fan hummed above them, lazily pushing warm air around the room.

After a while, Stiles turned his head slightly. "You know, I could grow my hair out."

Jamie raised a brow. "Oh?"

"Yeah," he nodded, rubbing his chin. "I could do, like, the whole rugged, scruffy look. Maybe even some stubble."

Jamie snorted. "Please don't."

"Why not?"

"Because you'd look like a twelve-year-old who just discovered facial hair exists."

Stiles scoffed. "Rude."

Jamie smirked. "Accurate."

He rolled his eyes but grinned. Then, quieter, he asked, "So… are we normal?"

Jamie frowned, caught off guard. "What?"

"You said earlier that we're the only normal ones left," Stiles said. "But like… are we? Really?"

Jamie hesitated.

She thought about the nightmares that still crawled into her head at night. The scars across her abdomen that would never fully fade. The way her chest tightened every time she was alone with Peter Hale. The way she still heard Gerard's voice, taunting, threatening.

The way Derek had looked at her, distant and unreadable, before he walked away.

The way she still felt like she was slipping—grasping onto something she couldn't hold onto.

"Yeah," she said finally. "We're normal."

Stiles hummed like he didn't quite believe her. But, to his credit, he didn't call her out on it.

Instead, he reached for the chips. "Well, one thing's for sure."

Jamie turned her head. "What?"

He shoved a handful in his mouth, crunching obnoxiously as he grinned. "We're definitely the coolest ones left."

Jamie snorted, shaking her head. "Yeah, sure, Stiles. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

He grinned wider, and she rolled her eyes, exhaling slowly, drumming her fingers against the couch.

Stiles noticed, his expression softening.

"How long's it been?" He asked. Jamie released a breath, checking her phone.

"About 6 days, 7 hours, 34 minutes…" she trailed off. "Not like I'm keeping count or anything."

Stiles shot her a look.

She rolled her eyes. "Shut up."

"I didn't say anything," he said, hands raised in mock innocence.

"You were thinking it."

"I think a lot of things, Jamie. Like, for example, how I'm the only one who seems concerned that we are completely out of snacks."

Jamie scoffed. "We just finished the chips."

"Exactly," Stiles said, sitting up suddenly. "And now there are no chips. No chips, Jamie. What kind of world are we living in?"

Jamie smirked. "A dark one."

"A lawless one," Stiles corrected, shaking his head in dismay. "We should really just run away. Escape this nightmare and go live in a cabin somewhere. Grow our own food. Live off the land."

Jamie raised an eyebrow. "You? Live off the land?"

"I could."

"You cried when you accidentally ran over a squirrel last year."

"That's called having empathy, Jamie," Stiles shot back. "Not all of us are cold-hearted cigarette addicts."

Jamie smirked, but it faltered slightly at addict. She drummed her fingers against her stomach, exhaling.

Stiles immediately caught it.

His voice softened a little. "Seriously though. How's it going?"

Jamie sighed, tilting her head back. "It's fine. I just… miss it."

Stiles hummed. "Like an old friend?"

Jamie let out a breathy laugh. "Like an old, toxic ex that I know I shouldn't go back to but, like… maybe just one more time, for closure?"

Stiles snorted. "God, you sound like Scott."

Jamie scoffed. "Oh, excuse me—"

"—no, I mean it," Stiles said, grinning. "That's literally his thought process. 'Stiles, I know Allison broke up with me, but like… what if I made out with her one more time to make sure?'"

Jamie smirked, shaking her head.

Stiles nudged her foot. "But seriously. You're doing good."

Jamie exhaled, quieter. "Yeah."

They sat in silence for a bit. The weight of everything pressed down on them. The past few months. The fights. The deaths. The transformations.

"So," Stiles said suddenly, shifting to look at her. "What are we in all of this?"

Jamie blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, like—what's our role in all of this?" He gestured vaguely around them. "Scott's the werewolf, Lydia's the whatever she is, Derek's brooding and mysterious, Jackson's…" He paused. "Well. Jackson."

Jamie snorted.

"And then there's us," Stiles continued. "The fragile, breakable humans. Like, what are we? The comic relief? The moral support?"

Jamie smirked. "I think you might be the comic relief."

Stiles scoffed. "Excuse you—"

"I'm serious," Jamie said, stretching her arms over her head. "If we were in a movie, you'd totally be the quirky best friend. You've got the sarcasm. The awkward energy. The ridiculous theories—"

"Ridiculous?" Stiles looked personally offended.

Jamie smirked. "And I'd be the emotionally distant side character who does something dumb and self-destructive halfway through the second act."

Stiles squinted at her. "That's… weirdly accurate."

Jamie grinned, but there was something tight in it.

Stiles caught it, but he didn't push. Instead, he leaned back against the couch, sighing dramatically. "Well. At least we'd have a killer soundtrack."

Jamie smirked. "Obviously."

They sat in silence for a while, staring at the ceiling.

Stiles let out a deep, theatrical sigh. "You do realize that if this was a horror movie, we'd probably be the first to die, right?"

Jamie shook her head immediately. "I'd be the first to die. You'd survive."

Stiles frowned. "Why are you so sure?"

Jamie smirked. "Because the virgin always dies last. Or survives completely."

Stiles choked on his own breath. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Jamie shot him an incredulous look. "How have you not seen Cabin in the Woods?"

Stiles blinked at her. "Okay, first of all, rude. Second of all, I know the final girl trope, I just—" He faltered, narrowing his eyes. "Wait. Are you implying that I'm the final girl?"

Jamie smirked. "I mean, statistically—"

"Okay, wow—"

"Don't be mad at me. Be mad at horror movie logic."

Stiles groaned, running a hand over his face. "This is actually so unfair. I would die first."

Jamie tilted her head. "Eh. You'd probably trip over something first, then get away last minute."

"Wow, thanks," Stiles deadpanned. "Glad to know you have so much faith in me."

Jamie snorted. "Just calling it how I see it."

Stiles huffed, crossing his arms. "Well, joke's on you. Maybe I would be the killer."

Jamie raised an eyebrow. "No offense, Stiles, but there's no parallel universe where you are the killer."

Stiles groaned again, sinking lower into the couch. "Ugh. You're right."

Jamie smirked. "Tough break, Stilinski."

"Yeah, yeah." He waved her off, shaking his head. "I swear, sometimes I don't even know why we're friends."

They shared a look, and then Jamie simply reached for her soda, taking a sip.

She let the silence linger for a moment before smirking. "You're only hanging out with me because Scott's at work and you have nothing better to do."

Stiles turned his head to look at her, mouth slightly open in mock offense. "That is not true."

Jamie raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, mostly not true," Stiles corrected, shifting uncomfortably. "But, like, come on, what else am I supposed to do? Everyone's off doing their own thing. Lydia's busy with Jackson, Derek and Isaac are off on a werewolf rescue mission, and Allison's—"

"In Europe," Jamie finished for him, exhaling.

Stiles sighed dramatically. "Europe."

Jamie smirked. "So, what, I'm your last resort?"

"No," Stiles said quickly. Then paused. "Maybe."

Jamie kicked him lightly with her foot. "Wow, you really know how to make a girl feel special."

Stiles grinned, rubbing his shin. "What can I say? It's a gift."

Jamie rolled her eyes but smirked, popping another chip into her mouth. "I'm just saying, if you ever feel like ditching me for Scott when he finishes work, I won't take it personally."

Stiles scoffed. "Yeah, because listening to him talk about Allison for hours sounds so much better than sitting here with you, talking about the crippling existential dread that is our lives."

Jamie snorted. "Exactly."

Stiles chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah. You're way more entertaining."

Jamie didn't respond to that—just kept drumming her fingers against the couch. But she didn't argue, either, even though she knew it was probably a lie.

She suddenly shifted, her expression turning more thoughtful. She stared up at the ceiling, her leg bouncing on the back of the couch.

"Hey," she said after a moment, her voice a little quieter.

Stiles turned his head to look at her. "Yeah?"

She hesitated, then asked, "Why'd you do my homework for me that first time?"

Stiles blinked. "Uh… because you asked me to?"

Jamie rolled her eyes. "No, I mean—" She exhaled, shifting to get more comfortable. "Was it just for the money?"

Stiles frowned, considering her question. He tapped his fingers against his chest, thinking. "I mean… yeah, that was part of it."

Jamie huffed a laugh. "A big part of it?"

Stiles groaned, rubbing his face. "Okay, yes, the money was nice. But it wasn't just that."

Jamie turned her head to look at him, waiting.

Stiles sighed, staring up at the ceiling. "You looked like you needed the help."

Jamie frowned slightly, not expecting that answer.

Stiles shrugged. "I don't know, you just— You always looked like you had a million things on your plate, and I figured, if I could take one thing off of it… then why not?"

Jamie was quiet for a moment. She picked at the fabric of her shirt, then said, "That's a stupid reason."

Stiles snorted. "Yeah, well, so is paying me in cash like some shady back-alley deal."

Jamie rolled her eyes, but there was something softer about her expression now. "You're a weirdo, you know that?"

Stiles grinned. "And yet, here you are. Choosing to spend your precious summer break hanging out with me."

Jamie smirked. "Yeah, well. Maybe I just feel bad for you."

Stiles scoffed. "Wow. Wow. You are the worst."

She let the words hang in the air for a while, letting them settle over her. She knew it was just a joke, but maybe she was the worst. She was a bad daughter, a bad sister, a bad friend… Maybe she didn't deserve the help Stile's had given her.

She groaned after a while, trying to push the thoughts away as she tilted her head back against the couch.

"I really need a cigarette," she muttered, her voice strained with frustration. But she didn't get up. Instead, she just stayed there, shifting restlessly. Her hands twitched where they rested on her stomach, and she rubbed her feet together, trying to release some of the tension coiling in her body.

Stiles watched her for a second, then reached into his pocket and pulled something out.

"Here," he said, holding it out to her.

Jamie blinked at the object in his hand. For a second, she thought he had actually handed her a pack of cigarettes, and she was half a second away from snatching it out of his grip—until she got a closer look.

"…Nicotine gum?" she asked, shooting him an unimpressed look.

Stiles just shrugged. "Figured it might help."

Jamie stared at him, then at the gum, before letting out a slow breath. With a roll of her eyes, she snatched it from his hand and popped a piece into her mouth.

Stiles grinned. "See? I am helpful."

Jamie just chewed, exhaling through her nose. "…It's disgusting."

"Yeah, well, so is lung cancer," Stiles shot back.

Jamie side-eyed him, but there was a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

Stiles exhaled, staring at the ceiling. "So, if this isn't a horror movie, what is our life?"

Jamie chewed thoughtfully. "A really, really bad teen drama."

Stiles groaned. "Oh God, you're right."

Jamie just smirked.