#lydiascott

Lydia stood in front of Scott, just staring at his bare torso. They'd gotten past the making out stage, but once clothes started coming off and shoes kicked to the side, she had pulled away.

"Lydia?" Scott asked carefully, not wanting to push. "We don't have to so anything." He started to reach for his shirt from the floor, where he'd tossed it after Lydia unbuttoned it.

He was too slow, and Lydia snatched it up, bunching it up as she held it at her side. Not letting her eyes leave his, she reached under her skirt and pulled down her underwear, stepping out of once it reached her ankles. She dropped his shirt on top of it, biting her lip.

"I want to. I have wanted to kiss you again for a long time now, and not out of some power trip like when we were sophomores and I thought you were the next hot thing. I mean, you were, but you know what I mean."

"I do?" Scott asked, a confused grin on his face.

Lydia nodded, but she held a look of confusion on her own face too. She stepped forward and stood on her tippy toes to kiss him, hands running along his sides and up his back. She could feel his muscles and warmth, solid but comforting. As she lowered herself down, she let her forehead rest against his chest, just listening to him breathing for a moment.

For his part, Scott held Lydia's elbows gently in his hands, not wanting to touch her any way she might not like. When she pulled back again, Scott stepped back until the backs of his knees hit the bed, and he sat down, pulling her along with him to straddle his lap.

"What's going on?" Scott asked. He reached up to brush her hair behind her ear, letting his hands settle on her waist.

"It's just... I haven't been with anyone since Aiden," Lydia admitted. "And I don't know if I've ever been with someone on the emotional level we already are at before sex was involved. It's either been one or the other, or the connection follows the sex."

"Like with Stiles?" Scott asked. He didn't mean to pry, but it was something they'd have to acknowledge at some point.

"Like Stiles," Lydia agreed. "He's my best friend - he's both our best friend," she chuckled. "But that's not what you and I are, is it?"

"Is that what you want us to be?"

"I mean, obviously I want us to still be friends. But I want us to be us. I want to be able to work together on everything supernatural but also have fun fucking each other too."

"You wanna fuck me?" Scott asked, blushing a little.

"I have the cutest purple dildo that will look gorgeous sliding into you," Lydia said, nodding. "And I want to feel you inside of me, in all the ways. I just haven't slept with someone after they became my friend. I don't want it to be weird."

"How about you keep that stunning outfit on, and I can taste you? That way you can keep from putting yourself completely out there yet, but also enjoy the benefits of sex? It might calm you, y'know."

His face dimpled as he smiled at her, and he leaned back so he was laying down, making it easier for her to choose whether or not to take him up on the offer.

"Don't be shy, now. Come sit on my face."

 8

 The car door sounds too loud when it slams shut behind her, the little blue and white BMW logo glinting on the hood. They have to know she’s here now. It’s been eight years since she’s seen any of the pack in the flesh. It’s been eight years since she’s seen warm brown eyes and smooth tan skin and a crooked jaw. Hardly a day goes by without thinking about him though, thinking about that night eight years ago in a beach house on the coast.

 7

 She swallows hard and lifts her chin. She can do this. Her first step feels momentous, rounding the back of her car. The front porch looks the same, though freshly painted, the front door a soft green. It feels like home, it feels like the place she’s been subconsciously searching for over the last seven years. Time doesn’t feel real anymore, it’s like she’s been drifting through life, with just her work and the casual friends she’s made along the way.

 6

 Each footstep brings her closer, increases her pulse by a beat. A child laughs, and suddenly the world comes screeching to a halt. What if… She hadn’t considered that, hadn’t considered that maybe he’d moved on, that maybe he didn’t think about those six days of sun and sand and laughter the way she did. He would deserve it of course. Scott deserves everything.

 5

 There’s toys scattered across the front lawn, a pink Barbie Jeep tipped on its side, a half deflated kickball and five Tonka trucks. Lydia considers turning around, considers walking away and pretending this never happened. But she can’t, not when she knows they can hear her heart beating, can probably smell her indecision and anxiety on the summer breeze. She needs to do this for her, needs to let herself have this, have something. She needs to know.

 4

 She feels vaguely over dressed as her heels click against the walkway stones, her pencil skirt and nylons suddenly too much. It’s been four years since she cleaned out her closets and donated all the floral print, all the miniskirts and high waisted shorts and low cut blouses. Sensible slacks and knee length skirts took their place, interspersed with brightly colored but professional blouses. Her sixteen year old self would turn up her nose, but Lydia is a grown-up now. She wonders if it was worth it.

 3

 There’s three steps up onto the front porch and her legs tremble with each one. I can do this, I can do this, she repeats to herself, over and over until she starts to believe it. She pushes her sunglasses up onto her head, feeling naked with her hair pulled back into a sleek bun, tamed and grown-up. There’s footsteps inside, boots on hardwood, and she knows it’s him, knows it can’t be anyone else. Her hands are sweating and she doesn’t know how to stop it, doesn’t know how to take back control.

2

The door swings open and the breath whooshes from Lydia’s chest. She gets a glimpse of familiar warm eyes before she’s wrapped up in two strong arms, squeezing her tight. Scott smells like home, like old spice and laundry detergent and warm summer nights. He feels like something more, something warm and precious and invaluable. He feels like love.

 1

 “Lydia.”

Her name sounds like a prayer on his lips, and it brings an unbidden smile to her face, her cheeks lifting in a way they haven’t in ages. He pulls back just enough so that their eyes meet, and in that one second of charged silence she knows. This man standing in front of her is the one. The one she’s been waiting for, and looking for, and dreaming about. She doesn’t know how long she’s loved him, years probably, from the first time he held her hand.

 0

 “Scott.”

He kisses her before she can say anything else, hands big and warm as they cradle her face and curl around the back of her neck. It’s different now than that night on the beach, different than that time in coach’s office. Scott kisses like he means it, like he’s pouring his heart and soul into it and tracing his declarations across her lips with his tongue. Lydia parts her lips and kisses him back, drops her purse onto the floor and wraps her arms around his neck. He slows her down too soon, pressing tiny kisses to her lips, her nose, her cheeks. She can hear familiar voice in the background, Derek and Kira and Malia and Stiles. With a sigh she tucks her face into Scott’s neck, smiling when he pulls her tight against him, until there’s zero space between them, warm hands sweeping up and down your spine.