He drops her off in a random, empty parking lot at two in the afternoon with a plate full of peanut butter cookies and picks her up from the same parking lot at five, the plate of cookies now a plate of crumbs.

"Sorry," she mumbles, hoisting herself into the passenger seat of his jeep. "Sorry. I know you had a meeting, but Kira has a flat tire…"

Stiles doesn't buy it.

He doesn't doubt that Kira ran into car trouble. The kitsune would never purposely ditch Lydia, especially when Lydia specifically asked her for a ride back to the apartment after she did...whatever business she needed to do. He just doesn't buy...her.

Lydia is pointedly looking everywhere but at him. Brushing invisible wrinkles from her floral skirt, methodically pulling apart the plastic wrap, speckled with cookie crumbs, clinging to its own surface. Flipping down the visor to open the mirror and inspect her lipstick. She moves quickly and deliberately.

He gives her a once over, but eventually decides to say nothing.

….Everyone is entitled to a secret.

His secret is that he has always wanted this.

He made Allison pretend to walk down the aisle with him until they reached the age where they became self aware and the 'game' became noticeably uncomfortable. He poured over photo album after photo album of his father in a tux and his mother in a white gown. When he was twelve he finally came to the conclusion that he wanted four children, no more, no less. He murmured, 'I do,' and practiced the perfect kiss on his pillow.

She would be pretty and strong, like Allison, who wasn't afraid to catch frogs and didn't cry when she scraped her knee but loved the color pink and painted her nails lime green. She would be smart, like his dad, who was an excellent listener and could solve any puzzle and taught Stiles the game of chess. And she would be like his mother, the good parts. The parts where her voice was soothing and her arms were warm when they wrapped around his shoulders, and her hair smelled nice.

Heather was pretty like Allison, but with long blonde hair, blue eyes and rounder cheeks. Her arms were warm around his shoulders. Her legs were warm as well, wrapped around his waist. She was smart, despite being a virgin, because she quickly found a new angle that made them moan simultaneously as he hit a particular spot inside of her over and over.

Cora was pretty, with nice skin and silky-soft brown tresses. She was strong, because she pinned him down and rode him with wild abandon and he could be rough with her and she enjoyed it. She was warm when dismounted his lap and kissed his temple goodbye.

Malia was smart, but not about chess or puzzles. Malia was smart because she never forgot who came first; Herself.
Malia was pretty because her legs were long and tan and her eyebrows were dark and because she believed in herself. Malia was warm because she cared about him, and she occasionally told him so.

There had been others, but they were easily forgettable, because their traits were not familiar in the way he so desperately craved.

And then she came along.

She is smart.

She has an IQ over 170, a tendency to call things by their scientific name, and translates ancient texts in Archaic Latin for fun. She is much smarter than he is, which is both exciting and alarming, because until she arrived, that had not yet happened.

She is strong.

She was put together and shattered and put together again. She has bruises on her feet and fire in her eyes. She chases down omegas and yells at authority figures and stands up for what she believes in. She lets the voices in, and keeps the voices out. She runs with wolves.

She is blatantly beautiful.

….But she is cold.

Though at times, when she smiles, or when the tip of her finger brushes his hand, it doesn't quite feel that way.

He has always wanted it.

Just not in this way. Just not like this.

It's hard to be mad at Kira when she's so adorable. Lydia watches as she grins, squirting the ketchup in a zigzag motion all over the shared plate of fries.

"You realize only monsters do that, right?" Lydia chastises good naturedly, bringing a fry to her lips. "Kira, be a normal human being and squirt ketchup on the side of the plate like the rest of the world!"

Kira only laughs, licking ketchup off her thumb as Allison mockingly shakes a finger at her.

Stiles had dropped Lydia back off at the apartment before returning to the station, and Allison had called immediately after. A plan was formulated, and Kira was picked up. She had apologized so genuinely and relentlessly for stranding Lydia that by the time they arrived at their destination, Lydia was the one feeling guilty.

A mile down the road and a plate of fries later, Lydia decided she was okay if they didn't move from the booth of the local 24-hour diner until sunrise as long as Kira kept highjacking the ketchup, and Allison kept laughing so hard her eyes squeezed shut.

"Okay," Allison declares, scooping a fry off the plate. "This much ketchup is too reminiscent of that movie we watched. Honestly, this plate looks like a massacre."

"A french fry massacre!" Lydia adds, punctuating the air with a fry.

"All I hear is a bunch of ketchup haters." Kira grins mischievously.

"Speaking of haters," Allison continues conversationally, "Did Stiles agree to come to the party?"

Lydia rolls her eyes at the direction of the conversation but nods, a smile fighting its way across her lips. Kira and Allison shoot each other a look under their eyelashes before Kira takes a particularly interesting bite of her french fry.

Oh boy. Why did she introduce these two to each other again?

"Are you seriously going to do this right now?" Lydia raises her eyebrows defiantly at their silent communication, and they both blush appropriately, but not before giving each other another grinning look.

Allison is the first to clear her throat and ask, "You're a week and a half away from the wedding. How are you feeling?"

Lydia bites into the flesh of her lower lip, considering.

"I...feel like…"

They're both staring at her with hyper-focused eyes.

"I feel like...I feel like...I feel like if we're going to go down this rabbit hole of a conversation, I need a chocolate milkshake first."

They both laugh, satisfied despite her lack of a sincere answer, and Kira actually flags down the waiter to ask for a round of chocolate milkshakes.

Lydia would be furious if she wasn't laughing so hard.

An hour later they were still hounding her about her relationship with Stiles.

"You know what you need to do?" Kira mumbles after dipping a fry in the sweet shake. "You need to look totally bangable at this party."

"When does she ever not look bangable?" Allison asks, shooting her a wink and Lydia mockingly flips her hair over her shoulder, smirking at the compliment.

"And what, per se, would be the point of looking more bangable than usual at this party? Please don't tell me it would be for Stiles' benefit."

"He is your husband."

"Not yet he's not!" Lydia scoffs. "Besides...things with us are a little...tense at times."

"Because of all the sexual tension." Allison declares, wiggling her eyebrows.

Well. She wasn't too far off.

"We really don't talk about the future, you know? We don't talk about how we're going live through this. He sleeps on the couch, our conversations usually last about five minutes. Once he got mad at me for suggesting that we would sleep with other people."

They stared at her.

"What."

"You're not actually going to sleep with other people, are you?!" Kira admonishes, eyes so wide Lydia thinks they might pop out of her head.

"Is that really so bad? We're going to be married for the rest of our lives. And we didn't choose it, so it might as well be enjoyable!"

"You know what would make it enjoyable? HAVING SEX WITH STILES." Allison croons so loudly the elderly couple in the booth behind her whip their heads around, scandalized.

Kira mouths 'sorry' to them, wincing. Lydia just smirks.

"Can you imagine?" Kira adds once the flush in her cheeks have faded. "The roleplay would be out of this world."

"Oooh! Deputy Stilinski! I've been a very naughty girl!" Allison chimes in.

"Oh my god, does he have a pair of handcuffs?!" Kira squeals.

"Isn't it a little weird to be talking about your best friend's sex life?" Lydia squints at Allison. "Besides. I think Stiles will be too occupied having sex with his ex-girlfriend to entertain me."

Allison's brows scrunch.

"Wait, what? Malia? Why would he be having sex with Malia?"

Two things very curious happen very fast.

One, Kira nearly chokes on her french fry, and two, she begins to blush furiously.

"Malia who?!" Kira coughs out, eyebrows at her hairline.

"Tate. Malia Tate." Allison answers, looking worriedly at Lydia, clearly as lost as Lydia feels.

Lydia didn't think Kira could blush anymore than she already was, but she was wrong. Kira was practically a tomato.

"W-why would he be having sex with Malia?"

"Well, he told me he would hit up his ex to have sex. I mean, he totally could. He said it maliciously, but I'm not going to hold it against him when he does." Lydia says, dismissively waving her hand. Was Kira disconcerted about Malia on Lydia's behalf?

"Malia." Kira states again.

"Yeah."

"Malia Tate."

"...yeah, Kira, what is it?" Allison asks, now genuinely concerned.

Kira brushes her dark hair behind her ears, chewing anxiously on her lower lip.

"Malia...Malia's in Beacon Hills?"

"Yeah, I mean I only met the girl once or twice." Allison nods, looking at her to continue.

It hits Lydia.

"Oh my God. Kira."

"What!" Allison cries out, looking back and forth between the two girls. "What! Clue me in! What!"

Kira groans and flops her head down onto the table with a solid thump. She says something but it's muffled.

"WHAT!" Allison almost shrieks, and Kira's head lifts up, shouting, "I USED TO DATE MALIA!"

There is a silence as simultaneous, evil grins stretch over Allison and Lydia's faces.

"Tell. Me. Everything." Lydia practically purrs.

Kira is clearly flustered but she rolls her eyes and begins upon Lydia's request.

"Malia and I went to the same high school in San Francisco before I moved to Beacon Hills. She was my high school sweetheart, actually. Last I heard, she left my hometown. She was trying to find her mother, The Desert Wolf."

Again, a palpable silence stretches, but this time it is different.

"Wolf." Allison parrots.

"Yeah. The Desert Wolf. Malia's mom. Look I haven't seen her in a long time, I had no idea-"

"Malia's mother is a wolf."

"Coyote, technically. A desert wolf is another name for a coyote. You know, like Malia is."

Lydia turns to Allison, understanding quickly falling into place like missing puzzle pieces.

"Stiles doesn't know does he? He doesn't know his ex is a werecoyote."

Allison shakes her head, eyes glazed in stupor.

They all decide to get ready at Lydia's place, mostly because she has all the hookups. Expensive makeup, designer shoes, an endless variety of silky lotions, and at least five tubs of Ben & Jerry's in the freezer. But also partly because Lydia expressed her concern that if she didn't catch a ride with Stiles to the party he would be a no-show.

Stiles is still at the station when they arrive, and Lydia shoots him a text to let him know they've temporarily commandeered the apartment.

"He's gonna be delighted." she smirks, wiggling her phone at Allison and Kira so they see her text.

They decide to start with icecream. They each grab a cardboard container and make their way to the bedroom.

"So this is it huh? Where all the magic happens?" Kira jokes good naturedly. Lydia rolls her eyes but doesn't correct her. Instead she pulls out a few issues of Vogue and scatters them across the comforter as Kira stretches over the plush cushions, beginning to leisurely flip through the glossy pages.

"Whoa."

Lydia turns at the sound of Allison's hushed surprise. She's looking into the closet with an almost confused look on her face.

"Allison?"

"Sorry...it's just...so weird. Your clothes are together…."

Lydia doesn't know what to say. She follows Allison's gaze. Stiles' hoodies and button downs overshadowed by her frilly dresses. His Adidas perfectly aligned next to her Jimmy Choos.

"Sorry...sorry it just kind of hit me, you know?"

Allison tears her eyes away from the doorway, turning to give Lydia a shaky grin.

"It's okay. It's weird. No doubt about that." Lydia muses.

Lydia waltzes over to the closet and softly touches the sleeve of a red hoodie.

"It still smells like him, just so you know."

"Pine-scented men's deodorant and spearmint gum?" Allison chuckles, trying to feign casual. Lydia nods, reaching out to grab her hand.

"You're going to be good for him, you know." Allison murmurs. "When we were little, he was all limbs and mouth. Constantly moving and chattering and flailing. Remember when I said something happened to him? Something that made him change?"

Lydia felt her heart begin to hammer in her chest, and stood up a little straighter.

"...He was adrift for a very, very long time. He's still recovering, you know? You'll see it. It will happen eventually and then you'll understand."

She wanted to know. She wanted to pry it out of Allison. Wanted to piece together the puzzle that was Stiles Stilinski, wanted to understand him.

"Anyway," Allison scoffed, clearing her throat and forcing a smile on her lips. "I just wanted to tell you that I see him improving. He's been talking more in the past few weeks than I've heard all year. And he smiles more...I don't know. I can't help but think it's because of you."

Stiles arrives just as Lydia finishes curling Allison's hair. He slouches, resting his shoulder against the bedroom door frame, and gives Lydia a lazy smirk.

"Stiles!" Allison beams, and Kira looks up her nails to smile a hello.

"How was work?" Lydia asks, taking his hand and moving him to the closet. She pulls about five different shirts out before he has the chance to answer.

Allison quietly observes, studying how Stiles laughs at the way Lydia holds up button downs to his frame before shaking her head and moving onto the next option.

Yeah.

This was going to work.

They pile into the car, Lydia cranks the radio while shouting directions to her friend's house, and after about fifteen minutes they arrive to a party so obvious Stiles could have found it about two miles out.

The two story house already has red solo cups littering the lawn, the music is thumping so loud Stiles can feel it reverberate through the steering wheel, and there's a girl already hysterically crying as her friends comfort her with words like, 'Mark is a jerk anyway! You don't need him.'

"This is going to be sloppy." Kira says, eyes wide.

"Danny's parties always are!" Lydia grins mischievously. "That's why they're famous in Beacon Hills."

Stiles parks the car and they step inside, meandering their way through the crowds in search of drinks. Lydia leads the way and Stiles can't help but notice as people do a double take, looking at her incredulously.

"Lydia Martin is here."

He hears a girl whisper to her friend and they both blush when they notice Stiles heard.

They find the drinks relatively easy without losing one another, and Lydia leans over the bar to hand Stiles a cold beer before beginning to concoct some fruity drinks for Allison and Kira.

"Lydia!"

Warm caramel arms wrap around her middle, and Lydia squeals as she turns to the dimpled stranger currently grinning down at her.

"Danny! Oh my god, it's been too long!"

"You're telling me. I missed my Queen Bee. How's it going babe?"

They kiss each other's cheeks before Lydia turns and introduces him to the group.

"Danny, you already know Kira, this is Allison and Stiles."

Stiles shakes his hand politely, pretending like he wasn't just grinding his teeth.

Danny greets them and gives Kira a wink, and tells her that Scott is out back with Isaac.

Lydia freezes.

The Scott situation still hasn't been mullified between Kira and Allison. Kira's eyes go big, and Lydia watches the tip of her ears turn scarlet. This is bad. She looks to Allison, but Allison has already crafted a mask, cool impassivity plastered on her features.

"Oh-okay I'm gonna…" Kira trails off, breaking apart from the group to search out her boyfriend.

"Sooo…" Danny smacks his lips, clearly aware that he just dropped a bomb that wasn't ready to be dropped.

"Stiles and Allison? Wait, haven't I seen you two before? Did you go to BHHS?"

"Nah. We were both homeschooled. We kind of had this rigorous training program." Stiles says casually, taking a swig of his beer.

"No," Danny shakes his head, "I could have sworn I saw you at a few of my parties during high school."

"Actually," Allison speaks up, the foggy haze fading from her eyes, "Stiles, I think we might have crashed a party here before. We were each other's only friends, so we'd try to go to the occasional high school party for some normalcy."

"Well come on then! Let me reintroduce you." Danny grins, and begins to take them on a tour of the house.

"Back patio, kitchen/bar...drinking games are in the living room," he points out. "Be sure to make certain Lydia weasels her way over there tonight." Danny gives Stiles a nudge.

"And why is that?" Stiles says in a clipped voice.

If Danny notices he pretends not to.

"Lydia loves drinking games. I throw awesome parties. But when we were in high school, Lydia Martin's parties reigned supreme."

Lydia preens and mockingly tosses her hair over her exposed shoulder.

"Ah, and here's my boyfriend!" Danny smiles as a muscled guy makes his way to them, and Danny gives him a peck on the lips before introducing him.

For the first time that night, Lydia sees Stiles' shoulders loosen, and he grins widely when he shakes Danny's boyfriend's hand.

They start off playing Beer Pong, Danny and Lydia against Stiles and Allison, who whoop their asses respectfully so, and then again at Flip Cup. Lydia is the champion at Suck and Blow though.

"It's not fair." Stiles speaks in her ear to be heard over the pounding bassline, and she feels slightly dizzy.

"Stilinski, you've creamed me two drinking games in a row, and I'm the expert when it comes to parties. Pray tell, how is that not fair?!"

"You have an unfair advantage."

She raises a brow at him, smirking. Stiles grins at her before slowly tracing his lithe fingers over her chin, cupping her jaw. He runs his thumb over her slightly parted lips before giving them a tug.

"These." he whispers hoarsely.

One bad drinking game leads to another, they find a mixed group of both strangers and friends sitting in a circle, and suddenly Lydia has five fingers in the air, her eyelids feel heavy, and there is a dangerous thumping in her chest.

When she shoots a look to Stiles, she can tell he's feeling it too.

"Seriously? Never Have I Ever? I feel like I'm in highschool again." Isaac bemoans half-heartedly.

"Only you were never at any parties because you never got invited." Lydia quips, but it's playful and he raises the lip of his bottle in her direction as if to say, touche.

The game starts off like how it always does. Everyone tries to make it interesting, 'Never have I ever been skydiving'...'Never have I ever sang in public'... but after about three declarations of 'Never Have I Ever,' it gets sexual.

Danny is the first to kick it off.

"Never have I ever had sex with a stranger."

They all smirk. It was fruitless to pretend like this wasn't how the game was supposed to be played. Pointless to pretend like they weren't all young and drunk and lusty. Senseless to pretend like they were above talking about sex, above shooting a lowered glance at their crush's fingers to gather details about their secret sexual escapades.

Lydia's five fingers remain in the air. As do Stiles'.

"Lydia, you've never had sex with a stranger?" Danny asks with a suspicious quirk of his lips.

Lydia rolls her eyes and takes a swig of her drink, regardless of her fingers still remaining up.

"I've always known their names, Danny. Besides, ever hear of a little something called Treponema Pallidum? Chlamydia Trachomatis? Neisseria Gonorrhoeae? I may be libidinous but I'm a safety girl."

She flushes at her bad habit of spewing scientific names when she's a little sloshed, but it's satisfying to watch everyone study her intriguingly, eyebrows raising in surprise on some of the faces of people she'd never been introduced to.

When Mason smiles and says he's never had a threesome, Lydia's thumb falls back into her palm.

Stiles is looking at her.

"Lydia?" Mason asks.

Why is everyone so interested in her sex life?

"This is Never Have I Ever, not 'Let's Hear Lydia's Sexual History.'"

"Come on. You're the only one here who's had a threesome! We're a group of curious people. What was it like?"

"No."

"Come on. That's like, everyone's fantasy! Inquiring minds want to know."

Mason says it so genuine and friendly that Lydia can't help but grin.

"You know, some people consider sex a very personal experience."

"Lydia!"

She bites her lip, considering.

"...it's satisfying. Everyone should try it at least once. But like...other than that…" she shrugs her shoulders as if to say she could take it or leave it.

"Was it you and two guys, or another girl and a guy? Or maybe all girls?!" a stranger suddenly stammers, almost breathless. Stiles stares at him so hard the subject is promptly changed. Lydia tries not to think about how Stiles is now chugging his beer, even though all his fingers are still up.

Allison is next.

"Never have I ever...kissed a girl."

Everyone sputters their disbelief.

"Never? Allison, not even like, on a dare?" Isaac asks, eyebrows at his hairline. "That's like, the first taboo statement that every girl makes!"

Allison is laughing, but there is a blush blooming on her cheekbones.

"You need to right that. Now." Danny pushes, and his eyes fall expectantly on Lydia.

"No! Come on!" she cries out. "What is with everybody up my ass tonight?!"

"Are you telling me you don't want to kiss Allison?" Danny says coyly.

Allison and Lydia turn to look at each other, smirking and rolling their eyes.

"I'm not fucking blind. I know my friend is gorgeous."

"Yeah, but that wasn't the question though."

Stiles is still beside her. He's been eerily quiet this entire game.

"You just want to see two girls make out. It's such a cliche!"

She's busy fighting it, but when Allison gently tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear, she turns with an arched brow.

"It would be nice to know what it feels like."

The look on Allison's face is so smug and confident that Lydia feels herself mimicking.

If they were going to play this game, they were going to make it good.

"Do you really want this?" Lydia questions, and when Allison says yes, Lydia can tell she really, truly means it.

"You want me to kiss you right now? Even in front of all these horny boys?" she shoots them all a playfully dirty look, narrowed eyes and pouty lips.

"It's okay to be a cliche every once in awhile."

"Mmm," Lydia whispers slowly leaning in. She can feel the group follow her lead, all stretching forward with big eyes, straining to hear Lydia over the thumping heartbeat of the music. "And we are friends. And you are really fucking pretty. Kind of takes away the banality."

"Indeed."

"Are you ready?" Lydia breathes onto Allison's flushed lips, because Lydia is so, so ready, but this is familiar territory. For Allison, it's completely new.

But Allison's mouth quirks, and she nods, fingers weaving through the hair at the nape of Lydia's neck, long lashes fluttering shut.

They start with barely-there kisses, butterfly light and sweet. Her lips are so soft and warm, and Lydia works them gently, slowly, sensually under her own. Lydia is reminded why she enjoys kissing girls. There is something so pure about it.

She takes it in, savors it slowly, and she hears the cheers of their growing audience even over the rushing noise of her own bloodstream thudding in her ears.

Stiles.

The thought of Stiles watching her make out with his best friend causes Lydia's heart to stutter in her chest, her stomach doing flip-flops.

Gently, achingly slow, she pulls back to run her tongue along Allison's bottom lip, and even though she thought the sounds of approval from onlookers couldn't get any louder, she was wrong. Allison grins, opening her mouth wider for entrance, and Lydia marvels over the softness of Allison's tongue against her own. Velvety and warm, lips so smooth. Thin, pale fingers gently playing across her collarbone.

Lydia understands why Scott was in love with her.

She could kiss Allison for hours. But after a solid few minutes, she dips her head to suck at the pulse under Allison's jaw and finally pulls back. She takes her in, noticing how Allison's vision is glassy and slow. Lydia knows her eyes must look the same. She smiles widely and Allison languidly grins back, cheeks flushed the prettiest shade of pink.

"That was fun."

Lydia hums in agreement and they both giggle, unable to help themselves, and Lydia's suddenly rushed with emotion. So thankful she's met the girl who is slowly becoming the best friend she's ever known. Thank God for Allison Argent. Thank-fucking-God.

Isaac is working his jaw, looking like a fish out of water. Danny is grinning, wiggling his eyebrows enthusiastically.

Stiles….

Lydia turns to her right, but Stiles is gone.

She finds him an hour later outside and alone, eyes unfocused, rosy blotches under his high cheekbones. He grins lazily as she approaches, and it makes her let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

"Hey you. How's my Princess?" he murmurs, and Lydia's eyes drop to his lips, flushed and shiny with his spit.

"Hey Stiles. Didn't want to stick around for the rest of 'Never Have I Ever,' huh?"

"I finished my beer and needed a refill. Also I needed to get loosey goosey."

The smell finally hits her, and she looks down at the joint between his thumb and pointer finger.

When she looks back up at him, she notices the redness in his eyes.

"Loosey goosey, huh? Tsk tsk. Deputy Stilinski, I do believe you're misbehaving."

"Come misbehave with me." he mumbles, reaching out to tangle his long fingers with her own, pulling her to sit beside him. She allows him to guide her down, smiling through heavy lidded eyes.

"This is prescription, anyway." Stiles says nonchalantly, leaning forward to cup his hand and light the tip of the blunt.

Lydia can deduce, but doesn't bother to ask what it's prescription for. She's too enamoured at the lighter in his hand, watching as his thumb clicks down repeatedly before the spark bursts into a flame. He puffs twice, letting the joint glow to life.

Stiles inhales deep before dropping his head back. Lydia watches his neck stretch, long and white, a vein climbing upwards, pulsing prominently. She watches as his adam's apple bobs, his jaw muscling before dropping, letting the smoke mingle with the night sky before turning to her.

His hair is mussed up, like he'd been pulling at it. His lips are swollen. His amber eyes look so, so dazed.

Stiles studies her right back, a lazy smile twisting on his mouth.

"Want some?"

"Mmhmm." Lydia moans, lashes fluttering almost sleepily.

Stiles brings the rolled joint back up to his mouth, inhaling before slowly leaning in. Lydia follows his lead, edging forward until their eyes lock, noses almost bumping.

Stiles breathes out harshly, letting out the smoke he held in his mouth. Lydia sucks it in, letting it fill her lungs, deep and burning, watching as Stiles' pupils dilate.

"You took off."

"You're so pretty, baby."

"You left."

"...Yes."

"Why. Didn't enjoy the show?"

Stiles brings his occupied hand up to her mouth, and Lydia wraps her fingers gently around his wrist, holding as she coaxes smoke from the joint.

"I wouldn't say that, necessarily." he says after she's exhaled. "Is this how you knew how to properly smoke my cigarette? Practice from parties?"

"Yeah."

She coughs, and he quickly swipes the underside of her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb until the hacking subsides.

"So where does the threesome come into play?" he asks, waggling his eyebrows.

Her eyes feel so heavy.

"Maybe I'll tell you at the next party."

She doesn't know where Danny is, or Allison, and she hasn't seen much of her pack for a while. All she knows is that her arms are wrapped around Stiles Stilinski's shoulders like he's the only solid structure on this block.

There are people swaying next to them, similarly compromised. Tightly wound and significantly inebriated. But Lydia feels alone. Like she's in a bubble. Distanced.

Her eyes are too heavy to keep open, but the dark blue of Stiles' button down looks so pretty in the dim light, and she can't resist running her palms over the fabric. It feel so good.

She assumes he's in the same textural headspace, because he hasn't stopped running lazy open mouthed kisses on her neck and shoulder since they started dancing.

She feels his breath, hot on her jaw. The slick of his tongue, directly on her neck, followed by his pouty lips, the scraping of his teeth. Moving back and forth, over and over. It's hypnotizing her, making her eyes flutter. She wants to close them and keep them closed. She doesn't ever want to move. Doesn't want to pull apart their tangled bodies, doesn't want to stop feeling Stiles' heart hammer in time with her own.

He moves for her, raising his head before leaning in and bumping her nose accidentally with his own.

"Thirsty." he rasps, and she nods, suddenly parched. Though she can't determine if it's from the heat of his body or the smoke she inhaled.

Stiles gives her hip a squeeze and leaves her leaning against a corner of the room before taking off to the kitchen.

He grabs a now lukewarm beer, uncapping it against the kitchen counter when a couple beefy dudes make there way to sort through the drinks.

"Sup bruh."

One mutters as he begins to pour some vodka into a bent solo cup. Stiles tilts his chin, tipping the beer back and drinking deeply.

"So...um...did I happen to see you dancing with Lydia Martin?"

Stiles stills. The three men observe his reaction with cold eyes.

"Stilinski right? Police? Lydia Martin did pretty well for herself I guess."

A beefy blonde grins, but it doesn't meet his eyes.

"Wanna know something? She was always that pretty. She was our Homecoming Queen. Lydia-fucking-Martin."

Stiles' hands begin to quake.

They all take a sip of their drinks, waiting for him to say something. Stiles wills himself not to grit his teeth, despite feeling his heartbeat quicken. This wasn't good.

He was used to people occasionally trying to play the tough guy and pick a fight with him, just so they could say they beat up the son of the Sheriff whose department was so highly regarded in this town. Every time it happened, the department was hit with a swarm of legal papers, rich boys threatening to sue Stiles for injury. It always reflected poorly on him. But he had a feeling that tonight, this wasn't really about him at all.

"I dated her, you know."

A brunette grumbles. He's Stiles' height, and the tallest of the group.

"For about a month, to be exact. But damn, was it the best month of my life. And Chester here-" he motions to his square jawed buddy. "Chester didn't date her, but he got a crack at her. Just like everyone else on the lacrosse team."

Chester leans forward, malice glinting in his eyes.

"She's fucking wild, huh Stilinski? What a minx. She was always crazy in bed. So frankly I wasn't surprising when she left halfway through school for that little Eichen stint."

Stiles feels his heart plummet to the floor.

"Fuck you," he spits. "You watch your fucking mouth about her you fucking prick."

There is nothing elegant about it, nothing clever or suave. Just fury, boiling over.

"Did she tell you her kinks yet?"

"God, there were so many!" his friend answers.

"There's the daddy kink. She just couldn't stop herself from calling me 'daddy' in bed. Practically mewling. And she loved to be spanked like the bad little girl she is."

"Don't forget she loves when you call it like it is. Loves to be called a slut, loves to be on top."

"She tastes so good, huh Stilinski? Her pussy tastes like peaches and cream-"

There is nothing but red.

Chester goes down hard.

Stiles gets a good kick to the guy's ribs before he's clocked in the jaw. The two friends pounce on him, delivering swift blows to his side. Stiles grabs one of their arms as it juts out to hit him, bending it back unnaturally with a sickening crack. He shrieks, reeling backwards as Stiles serves a forceful blow to his friends stomach, making him double over. He's vaguely aware of the screams now surrounding him, but all he can see is red red red, all he can feel is the scrape of his knuckles against the scruff of a jaw, blood gushing over his hands as he breaks the nose of whoever punched him in the mouth.

He feels hands grab his shoulders and pull him back, a familiar voice yelling, "They're down! They're all down! Stop hitting them they're down!"

Stiles swings back, arm cocked and ready, only to be met with the concerned brown eyes of Scott McCall.

"Dude! Are you okay? What's going on?! Stiles-!"

He doesn't stick around to hear the end of the sentence.

"Stiles!" Lydia rasps, calling out into the dark at his retreating figure. "Stiles, wait!"

Lydia watches him stomp to across the front yard. People stare at him, and then at her as she yells his name. She watches as he spits the blood from his mouth, spraying like mist before vanishing completely.

He's got his hand on the door of the jeep by the time she catches up to him.

"Stiles!"

He spins around, and she sucks in a breath.

He's dead behind the eyes.

"Can you catch a ride with Scott?" his voice scrapes, and then he's in the driver's seat, pulling away and leaving her empty and alone.

There is a knock on the bedroom door, and it pulls Lydia immediately out of her slumber.

She springs up, heart in her throat, watching as the door slowly swings open and Stiles saunters through.

"You're here." she whispers.

It's so dark, and the moment feels so fragile. She can't see his face, but she sees the outline of his silhouette in the doorway.

"I was worried about you. You weren't here when I got back. What time is it? God it's gotta be like, four in the morning. Stiles I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen-"

"Do you want a cheeseburger?"

"...What?"

They sit in silence, the only sound coming from Lydia as she slurps up her chocolate milkshake. The second chocolate milkshake of the day.

Stiles reaches between them to the center console, picking up a few fries. It's dark inside the jeep, the only light coming from the illumination of the In-N-Out sign, the headlights of the highway that stretches in front of them, and the radio, glowing 4:15 AM in green block lettering.

They had driven in silence, only breaking the stillness to order two double cheeseburgers, fries, and shakes.

Lydia was still in her nightgown, though she wrapped a thick robe around herself before they left. She had washed off her makeup and put her hair up hours ago. She had tossed and turned all night waiting for him to come home.

From the details she managed to gather from fellow party-goers, a few ex-lacrosse players had used her to bait Stiles into a fight, though it did appear that Stiles was the one to come out victorious. It was one against three, but considering that they had chosen to taunt a highly trained soldier, they were lucky they only came out with broken bones and bruised egos.

Lydia felt the shame hang low, like a stone in her belly.

Nothing she could say would make up for the stories about her. Nothing would make up for the dignity she lost years ago.

"Stiles," she tries after an hour of silence. "Stiles...what they said about me. I'm so sorry. That was years ago, and I'm not like that anymore. I'm not like-"

"Lydia." he murmurs, and it's gentle.

She looks over at his profile. His dark eyebrows scrunched, hair wild, lips parted.

"Lydia, I don't care about that. You shouldn't care about that either."

"...You're not mad at me?"

He lets out a bark of laughter, and when he turns she can see the split in his lip and the dark purple bruise forming under his pronounced cheekbone.

"Why would I be mad at you? I'm the one who got in a fight. I'm the one who ruined the party. I'm the one who took off, definitely not sober enough by the way, and left. I owe you. I took you here to apologize."

"You took me to In-N-Out at four in the morning to apologize to me?"

"...Yeah."

"Are you still a little stoned?"

"...Yeah."

She laughs, genuine and bubbly, and a smile twists onto his lips.

"So...you don't care about my...sexual past?"

"God-Jeez, Lydia," Stiles stutters, flailing slightly, "Why the fuck would it be any of my business? Those guys, they were creeps. Assholes. They said something a decent person would never say, and I just kind of got a little carried away. I'm really sorry. I know you were looking forward to this party. I'm sorry I ruined it for you. Sometimes I have a temper, which you've seen, unfortunately. I'm going to work on that. I'm really, really sorry Lydia."

There is silence again, and she watches his eyes glass over in the moonlight.

Stiles Stilinski.

Protector of honor, one broken bone at a time.

She clears her throat and says, "...pass me a french fry."