“Shit!” she shouted, pulling herself up and off of the guy, sobering up pretty quickly as she took a seat on the couch, leaving about a foot between them. “Oh my god I am so sorry,” Lydia said, looking up at the brunette whom she had just landed on. His face was red, his wide eyes a beautiful hazel brown, mouth agape, staring at her.

“I… uh.. no, no, it’s… it’s totally… totally fine,” he stuttered, obviously caught off guard. “Totally… completely fine.” Slowly, his eyes caught hers, locking with them gently. “Stiles,” he said quietly, holding out his hand for her to take.

“Lydia,” she responded, still bright red, but her smile was gentle. “I’m really sorry I…” she trailed off, not really wanting to repeat what had happened. She took his hand, immediately realizing the bony feel to it, the veins that ran up and down his knuckles. She noticed his freckles and moles next. The splatter across his cheek. It was gentle, as if it was just the simple detail that made him easily remembered. 

“No, really… don’t worry about it,” he said, taking a breath, seemingly the first one he had taken since they had stated talking. Lydia felt herself smile gently. “So… what brings you here?” Stiles asked. 

“I don’t know… my friend dragged me here, promised we’d have a good time, but, like always, she ditched me for her boyfriend.“


"Funny,” Stiles chuckled, “Scott ditched me for his girlfriend.”

“Scott McCall?” Lydia asked.


“I’m assuming your friend is the Allison Argent that he talks about all the time?” he replied.

“That’d be her… They drag us here with promises of fun and happy memories,” Lydia started.

“Ones to erase the pain…” he added. Lydia realized what he said, noting the fragility in his tone. He was broken, too.

“Nothing ever works… But I think this might be the closest I’ve come in a long time,” she whispered. 

“I couldn’t agree with you more,” he admitted. 

Lydia didn’t know when it happened, but at some point in their conversation, the two found themselves inching closer and closer together, and all of a sudden the foot of space between them had been narrowed down to a few inches, centimetres even, before she took a breath, leaned in. The alcohol in her system was driving her, and she wasn’t quite sure what she was doing herself, but soon, their lips had touched, gentle at first, before Lydia and Stiles pulled away. 

“Do you think you maybe want to help me forget some more?” she asked, eyes sad and soft, laced with a gentle desperation.


“Yeah… I think I would.”

Their night was bliss, a splattering of aggression, teeth on lips and tongue before they finally succumbed to their desires and slowly, gently, they worked their way into a pattern, a rhythm of sorts. He took off her shirt, trailing kisses down her exposed spine as she played with his hair. He seemed to know everything she wanted, and how to do it right, made her feel better than she ever had before. It was like they were made for each other. 

Only in the dim light of Stiles’ bedroom did they share their secrets. That Lydia’s boyfriend had died, that Stiles’ girlfriend had broken up with him after he had become distant because of some past demons haunting him. They shared whispers like they were best friends and not two strangers passing in the night. 

They tried to pretend that it was no big deal. Their friends were dating and they would see each other every now and again, but it was a pull that was too strong for either of them to resist. Soon there were stolen kisses on the way to the bathroom , sneaking around, hiding in closets because it wasn’t going to be this way forever. 

Every time they whispered to each other that it would be the last, and every time, it happened again. 

And somewhere along the way, Stiles fell head over heels in love with Lydia Martin. With her strawberry blonde head of hair that just reached the height of 5'3”, or her green eyes and left handed penmanship. Everything about her was perfection in his eyes. She was intelligent, someone who was willing to banter back and forth with him. Hell, she’d even watched Star Wars with him. But she was more than just his friend. She was his partner in crime, his other half, a tether keeping him grounded. 

Little did he know that he was the same for her. His smile kept her from falling apart and his laugh made her heart melt. His lips were soft and sweet, tasted like buttercream every time she touched them. 

But neither of them would admit it. 

At least, not right away.

They spent two more months stealing kisses behind closed doors and glances at parties. It was only when Scott and Allison noticed their distraught behaviour when the other wasn’t around that they finally brought it to the attention of the strawberry blonde beauty and the sarcastic brunette. 

“What is this?” Lydia asked, looking up at Stiles, with whom she was cuddling with on the couch, The Empire Strikes Back shoved haphazardly in the DVD player. 

“What’s what?” Stiles asked, caught off guard with her question.

“Us,” she responded blatantly. “What are we?”

“Well, what do you want us to be?” he asked, looking at her, searching for the answer in her eyes. Lydia didn’t miss a beat, responding immediately.

“More than this,” she admitted.

Their lips crashed together like waves, a mixture of gentleness and passion before Stiles began to lean into Lydia, soon finding themselves totally horizontal on the couch before they decided that a bed may be a bit more comfortable. They made their way into Stiles’ room, speaking in whispers of sweet nothings and one simple phrase that they began repeating to each other.