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Malia was a lot more observant than people gave her credit for.
Yes, she was impatient, and, yes, she hated waiting, but she also survived as a wild animal for eight years. She knew how important it was to wait for the right moment to pounce. She knew a second spent making sure no larger predator was hiding in the shadows could decide whether she lived or died. Patience might not be her greatest virtue, but Malia was a survivor – she knew how to adapt.
Watching Stiles struggle with the vending machine, Malia knew she had to wait a bit longer before she could force him to talk. Once they were back in the car on their way to Cambridge, Malia would strike. Going seventy miles on an empty highway would make it impossible for Stiles to escape and their conversation was a long time overdue.
Four years overdue to be exact.
They were on their way to Lydia’s graduation party at MIT – the banshee had finally gotten her master’s degree in something something mathematical. They were spending the weekend together at a cabin in the woods, a graduation gift from Lydia’s mother to all of them. Stiles was driving her since he’d been in Beacon Hills for the past two weeks since he finished his bachelor’s at George Washington. Scott, Kira, and Isaac were taking a plane, Derek and Braeden coming down from Canada, the puppy pack watching the online livestream of the ceremony from dorm rooms all over the country. It was the first time in four years all of them would be in the same place again.
They had seen each other in between as well, of course. They had called, texted, video called – no one was ever farther away than the click of a button. But even when Kira came back and her parents organized a giant party, Derek hadn’t been able to make it, Isaac still in France, Stiles buried under dozens of midterms.
This felt different. Like a chance for something new. Maybe that’s why Malia had chosen this needlessly long road trip to talk to Stiles.
They were still friends, of course. He was still her anchor, but… after they broke up – and it had taken Malia two days and a diagram to explain the exact dynamics of their breakup to Scott – they had never talked about it again. They had both acted as if it had never happened. To be completely honest… it hurt.
It hurt because Malia liked Stiles even when he was angrily shaking a vending machine, cursing just because the damn thing wouldn’t give him his coke. Hell, Malia even found his futile attempts at growing a beard adorable – somehow it made him look both older and younger at the same time.
“Need any help?”, she offered, knowing he would decline.
“Nah, it’s good. I have this patented trick-“
Stiles was grinning when he turned around to look at her. Nobody who had been awake for more than twenty-four hours should look this awake, but they were on hour sixteen of their road trip and they had only stopped here because Malia needed to pee, and Stiles wanted something to drink. The rest stop was dark and silent around them, but Malia wasn’t afraid.
There was no danger in the air, no fear building in her guts. All she could smell was Stiles’ sweat, the bitter tang of his constant anxiety and paranoia less strong so far away from Beacon Hills and danger.
“Are you sure? Because right now, it looks as if it’s only a question of time before the whole thing tips over and crushes you.”
“You have so little faith in me, Malia.”
“I have seen you fall down three different kinds of stairs because you tripped over air. It has nothing to do with faith, Stiles. This’s just experience speaking.”
“Excuse you-“
His mock outrage carried over the empty parking lot, and Stiles was still ranting when Malia gave the vending machine one decisive kick and the bottle of coke Stiles had lusted after finally came loose. She knew her grin was predatory when she bent down and retrieved the bottle for him.
“Here you go.”, she said.
“Thanks. My hero. My white knight. My savior. My-“
“Shut it.”
“Oh, you wish.”
His smile was impish – a word Malia had learned for the SATs and fallen in love with – when he took the coke, and something stirred in Malia’s gut. Lust. Want. Regret. Love. Anger. It was complicated.
She tried not to let it show, turning back towards the car. She pulled her plaid shirt tighter over her tank top, wishing she had brought some warmer clothes with her. But it was July, and she had forgotten how cold nights could be without the comfort of her fur.
(Stiles had vetoed her turning into her coyote – he had claimed it was because of the car seats, but Malia knew he had offered her an easy out. While Malia loved being a coyote, car rides still frightened her sometimes… and she didn’t want to be caught in a wreck in her coyote form ever again)
The Jeep looked as it always had now that Stiles was once again the person driving it. It had been weird to see Scott behind the wheel during their fight with Monroe, and it had been even weirder to drive it herself when she needed to go places in Beacon Hills.
So, she was the one who drove the Jeep – until now. She was the one who stayed, after all.
Well, at first she had left as well. She had traveled through France, met this Isaac guy everyone was talking about, found a werewolf pack full of full-wolf shifters to spend some time with… but she came back. She came back to Beacon Hills, and she started evening classes at the local community college. Education wasn’t her calling, her work with the rangers responsible for the Beacon Hills Preserve so much more engaging, but she found that she enjoyed certain topics. Law was horribly interesting, and so was anthropological biology and environmental technology.
She watched over Liam, Hayden, Corey, Mason, and Alec until they finished High School and started their own paths in the world. She kept an eye on Theo – even if Scott told her she didn’t have to – and she spent time with the Sheriff and Melissa. She even rebuilt her relationship with her dad. Not Peter, but the man who had raised her. Who had lost her.
It was hard.
Malia was doing her best.
And now… Lydia would return to Northern California for her PhD. Scott’s veterinary program was less than two hours away from Beacon Hills. Stiles was still looking at schools to do his master’s at (Malia was afraid to ask what had happened with the FBI) and he was heavily considering Berkley. Kira had joined Malia at the community college, catching up with all she had missed while she was with the Skinwalkers. Derek and Braeden had bought a house in a town close to Beacon Hills (though that was a secret Malia wasn’t supposed to know). Isaac had started training to be a social worker in Beacon Hills itself… they were all coming home.
(The kids were still stationed all over the country, and Malia thought it was only fair – if she got a chance to run away, so should they)
Back in the car the smell of a hundred misadventures greeted her. She could smell spilled coke, fear, anxiety, and sex. The aroma of blood was almost comforting – the Jeep had survived High School, and so had they. They had spent so much time in here over the years it was impossible to say who was responsible for what smell. But Malia had a few ideas…
Stiles took his seat behind the wheel, and Malia watched as he started the car, the jeep smoothly rolling off the parking lot and back onto the highway (Derek had paid to get the Jeep repaired – Malia could still remember Stiles’ tears when the pack had told him).
They had been driving for almost half an hour, dark streets passing them by, when Stiles broke the silence Malia had so carefully cultivated.
“So… spill the beans.”
“What?”
“Something’s bothering you. You keep watching me like- like I’m some sort of prey. I don’t enjoy feeling like a bunny about to get eaten. Though I’m obviously cute enough… but you know what I mean.”
Yes, Malia was a lot more observant than people gave her credit for, but she was also a predator and her eyes carried weight.
“How are you and Lydia doing?”
“What? Good. George Washington was close enough to Cambridge for weekend visits. I hope we’ll find a similar solution now that we’re both returning home. Why?”
Yeah, why?
Because Malia liked him. Because he was her anchor. Because she was happy with Scott, but he had Kira now and… and there was Isaac, and no, she and Scott hadn’t broken up, but she also wasn’t sure if they were still dating. And- and Stiles and Lydia were perfect for each other, but she could see his eyes follow Scott sometimes, or even Deputy Parrish and she was sure he was watching her as well… and Kira was really cute, but Malia couldn’t really understand why.
But these words were a truth buried deep inside her heart. She wouldn’t say them. Couldn’t say them. These words belonged only to her.
“I was at a bar with Lydia a few months ago.”, was what she said instead. It was the truth. It was what had started this all.
“Yeah…”
“And she said something…”
Malia wasn’t monitoring Stiles’ scent – she really wasn’t! – but it would be hard to miss the spike in anxiety pheromones flooding the small space for anyone with her nose. His knuckles clutching the wheel turned white.
“Is she unhappy? Did she say-?”
“No! No, that’s not at all what she said.”
And it hadn’t been. Lydia had been very drunk that night, and she had said a lot of things, cried about Allison, a girl Malia never met, and cried about another boy, who died in her arms. But never once had Lydia said anything bad about her relationship with Stiles.
Malia didn’t want to destroy them. She didn’t want to break them up. She just-
“She said some things. About how your relationship works.”, Malia said.
“What things?” But Malia could hear that Stiles had already figured it out – always the detective.
“She said… that sometimes, when you guys don’t manage to meet up… sometimes she sleeps with guys she meets at conferences or parties or tinder. That you know about it. That it’s okay.”
For a long moment Stiles was silent. Malia really hoped Lydia had been telling the truth back then. Because if Lydia was cheating and Malia had just accidentally told Stiles about it while they were on an empty highway in the middle of the night… now she was the one who had to swallow her panic back down.
Darkness passed them by, trees turning to grey blurs as the headlights of the car touched them. Malia was fidgeting, waiting for an answer. Stiles was silent – Malia hated when he was silent. It unsettled her. Stiles was motion – seeing him still was simply wrong.
“Lydia and I have an agreement. A- a deal. We have an open relationship.”
“And… are you okay with that?”
“What? Yes!”
He seemed genuinely shocked that she would ask him something like that, but his signals were so confusing, Malia wasn’t quite sure what she was supposed to believe. Once upon a time she could have read his emotions more easily than her own, but now she was lost. She had to relearn how to read him – it hurt to realize that.
“Then why- then why do you smell so anxious. So- so panicked?”
“Because people are assholes. The few times Lydia and I told someone that we weren’t exclusive the response was either some crude remark on how nice it must be for me to be allowed to fuck other women or some sexist remark about Lydia’s virtue.”
“Idiots.”
“Exactly!”
His right hand left the wheel to underline his point, but he must have seen her flinch because before she could say anything both hands were firmly back on the wheel.
“It’s rather simple, really.” Stiles continued, “Lydia has a higher sex drive than I do. I’m not the jealous type, especially if I know what she gets up to. I just- I don’t understand why I should let her be frustrated, you know, sexually, when it doesn’t matter if she has sex with some guy she’s never going to see again.”
He fell silent, the gears in his head turning so visibly, Malia could practically hear him think, trying to figure out if his sentence had made sense, if his words had reached her.
“I think it makes sense.”
Hopefully her answer would soothe something inside of him. She didn’t like how nervous he suddenly was – maybe it had been a bad idea to wait until the two of them were alone and Stiles could no longer escape. Maybe she shouldn’t have done this in a car.
“Yeah, I thought you might understand. And… sorry, I guess. It must be weird to talk about your ex’s sex life with their new partner.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’ve talked plenty about you with Scott and Lydia.”
Stiles started coughing when her words registered, but Malia remembered those conversations fondly. Lydia had been very informative and open, and Malia had learned a lot by comparing notes with the banshee. Scott on the other hand… he had smelled of embarrassment and low arousal and Malia had been ready to devour both.
It took Stiles a couple of minutes before he could talk again, a blush high on his cheeks. It was cute. Adorable, really.
“Malia…”, he started, then stopped.
“Yes?”
“Why did you ask me about this… Like, I would have told you once I was ready, I promise, but why did you bring it up now. On our way to see Lydia.”
“On our way to see the entire pack.”
“What?”
“That’s why I brought it up now. We’re going to see most of the pack tomorrow. Scott, Kira, Isaac, Derek, Lydia… they are all going to be there. And- and I wanted to talk about this before then.”
“Talk about what?”
“You’re my anchor, Stiles. You know that, right?”
His eyes rested on her, their weight comforting and stifling at once. She had missed his intense gaze, his amber eyes trying to figure her out. She hadn’t missed the single-mindedness of his focus.
“Yes. I know. What-?”
“You broke my heart when you left that car after I told you I would be there for you.”
It was a hard truth to put into words.
She could see him flinch, could smell the shame cling to his skin.
“You broke my heart… but you are still my anchor.”
“Malia, I am so sorry. I- God, I was an asshole back then, and I know that… Really, I am so-“
“I know. I don’t need to hear it now. I might have needed to hear it back then, but I like to think that I am over it.”
I’m not over you, that’s the problem.
But she couldn’t say it. Not yet.
“Then why…?”, Stiles sounded so confused it was adorable – and painful. The night was their only companion, and Malia had filled the car with truths, and hurt, and memories of long forgotten feelings.
“I’m not sure Scott and I are dating anymore. I mean… we always had a rather relaxed relationship, but Kira is back and Isaac is back and Scott isn’t doing anything.”
“I’m sorry? I can talk to him. He can get a bit lost in his head sometimes, too busy seeing the bigger picture to understand what the individual people around him need.”
That’s why he needs you, Malia wanted to say, and why you need him. It was the unspoken truth of the McCall pack that Scott and Stiles belonged together. You couldn’t get one without the other – and you couldn’t separate them, not truly. Not for long.
“No, it’s-“, a frustrated growl escaped her.
Words rarely worked in her favor. She was a doer. She showed people her affections, she showed them how she imagined the plan to work, she showed them who she wanted to be. But words? Being a coyote had its perks, and one of them was never having to explain herself using useless syllables falling from her lips.
“I’m not going to lie, Malia… you’re confusing me. First you bring up Lydia and I’s relationship, then our breakup, and now Scott and… Kira? Isaac?”
“I just don’t understand.”
“You don’t understand what?”
“Why it has to be either/or. Why- why does it have to be ScottandMe or ScottandKira or ScottandIsaac. Why does it have to be YouandLydia or YouandMe. KiraandMe. YouandScott. I just- it makes no sense. And you were always the person who explained dumb human rules to me- only this time I found out that you and Lydia had found a way around this stupid either/or rule. That you broke it! I didn’t even know you were allowed to do that!”
She knew her cheeks were red, her short hair in disarray. It was just… her words had come out a jumbled mess. They made no sense, not even to her, and yet… while not as close to her heart as her feelings for some of the people in their pack, this was still the truth. Malia didn’t understand why she couldn’t have Stiles and Scott and Kira and that hot barista, who always drew a heart on her latte. She didn’t understand why Scott would sometimes sadly look at Isaac and Stiles without ever following through. She didn’t understand why Kira shied away from Scott’s touch only to stink of love and longing for hours afterwards.
It was just so fucking confusing.
“Oh.”
For a long time that was all Stiles said, her words like an iron curtain between them. She couldn’t even decipher his smell, mostly because Stiles didn’t seem to know what to think either. They had been on the road for hours now, the steady humming of the Jeep tempting Malia with a promise of sleep. But she couldn’t sleep. Not now, when her words had created such a hurricane of confusion.
“I guess… I guess, I don’t know how to explain that to you. Many people are monogamous, they can only imagine a relationship – a romantic and/or sexual relationship – between themselves and one other person. I guess, that’s why--- why there is a LydiaandMe and no ScottandMe at the same time.”
“But- but you and Lydia are in an open relationship, right?”
Now he was just confusing her more.
“Yes, but… it’s different. Lydia and I, we just… we separate love from sex, you know? Sex is just a physical activity we enjoy, but the deal basically is… we can fuck whoever we want, as long as we stay romantically faithful? It sounds weird, I know, but it made sense when Lydia and I talked about it, I promise.”
“And you having sex with Scott wouldn’t be romantically faithful to Lydia?”
He looked at her then, and she could see in his eyes that she had found a sore spot. There was hurt hidden in his amber eyes, love simmering close to the surface.
“I guess.”
Now would be the perfect moment to tell him that she wouldn’t be romantically faithful to Scott either should she kiss him now, but something stopped her. Maybe it was the tension seeping into Stiles’ shoulders or maybe it was the fact that they still had another ten hours to drive, but Malia didn’t say something romantic. Or dumb. Or both.
Instead, she simply said:
“Well, I think Scott would be a lot happier if he could kiss both Kira and Isaac without feeling guilty.”
Stiles didn’t answer.
Lydia watched the guests tickle into the great hall from her seat in the midst of the other graduates. She had spotted Derek and Braeden arriving together only ten minutes ago, the couple finding the seats she had reserved for them without trouble. Her mother was already here, a proud smile on her face just a few rows behind her… but it was the grin on Stiles’ lips that she wanted to see the most. Quickly, she checked the group chat, making sure she had sent the correct link to Liam and the others at home to watch. Maybe she also wanted to check whether or not one of the others had answered her slightly pissed inquiry regarding their current location.
They were late.
Of course, they were.
When Stiles told her about his plan to drive up here with Roscoe, she had already predicted something like that and yet…
The doors to the great hall opened once more, a group of five stumbling into the room a mere five minutes before the ceremony was about to start. She could strangle them – said with love. Of course Stiles had picked up Scott, Isaac, and Kira along the way. The five of them were practically inseparable.
And they were here.
Malia chose to take the car with Stiles and judging by her crinkled plaid shirt the drive had been a long one. Next to her Stiles was smiling, pride evident in the set of his shoulders. Scott was beaming, Kira waving in her general direction, Isaac silent and warm next to them. Malia was whispering something into Kira’s ear and… they were laughing. They looked so happy.
A sharp pain buried itself deep in her heart.
Whenever she saw the five of them together – which had rarely happened in the past four years – she noticed just how happy they looked. Worse – they looked whole. Lydia had seen something mend itself in Scott’s heart when Kira escaped the Skinwalkers, proving herself worthy of her sword and her fox, and she had seen something settle in their alpha, when Isaac returned from France with a promise of forever on his lips. And Stiles… with every person rejoining their considerably big pack, Stiles had calmed down, lost some of the tension permanently living in his chest. It was sweet, really.
Lydia just wished she wasn’t such a jealous person.
She smiled at them as they searched for their seats, their wrinkled clothes in stark contrast to the suits and dresses the other guests wore. Not for the first time Lydia wished Allison was still alive. Her best friend would have worn a dress so beautiful every person in the room would have been forced to stare at her, even once they noticed her practical boots and functional jewelry. Allison would have smiled and laughed and hugged Lydia. She would have understood.
Allison always understood.
Before the tears could start falling – threatening to ruin her makeup – the dean stepped onto the stage, forcing Lydia to turn around and away from her friends. He weas a tall man, a respectable figure, and he would be the one who would give Lydia her master’s diploma today.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, it is an honor to welcome all of you here today. The Ma-“
Lydia tuned him out. She let his words wash over her, watched as the golden light of the chandeliers got caught in his glasses, watched as his mouth moved and his words vanished into the ether. Over the years she had heard a thousand speeches like this. She didn’t have to listen now.
Instead, she soaked in the energies of this place one last time. The MIT had been her dream. She had escaped Beacon Hills to go to one of the best universities in the world. She had graduated with honors two years ago and would now receive her master’s with a similar laudation.
While she had studied here, she hadn’t found a single body.
The voices never stopped, the premotions and visions and the feeling of doom… but while she studied at MIT there hadn’t been a single supernatural death forcing her into a fugue state.
Something told her, her return to California would kill her winning streak. Quite literally.
So, for one last time, she enjoyed the droning voice of the dean as he congratulated them. She enjoyed the high ceilings and the thousands of strangers around her. She enjoyed… the feeling of her pack being close by.
Banshees were no pack animals, but maybe Lydia was.
The ceremony was over before she knew it. One moment she was standing up on the stage, smiling as the dean gave her her certificate, the next the voices around her were growing loud as families found their daughters and brothers and sons, as joy and laughter became the predominant emotions in the room.
It didn’t take long for her pack to find her either.
She was standing close to one of the side exits, her heels high enough to allow her to peak over the heads of at least a few fellow students and their add-ons. Her dress was blue, a color she wouldn’t have chosen if it hadn’t reminded her of the color of Allison’s bedroom wall, when she saw it in the store. That way Allison could be here with her, even if worlds separated them, the veil of death impenetrable where it was usually so thin.
Stiles was the first one to push through the masses of bodies, his grin so wide it threatened to split his face apart. In the face of his joy, Lydia allowed Allison’s ghost to vanish from her mind. For now.
“Hey, babe.”
His words were soft, the room was loud, and yet Lydia heard him perfectly well. He was reaching out, and before Lydia could make a conscious choice, she was melting into him. His embrace was warm, strong, comfortable, home. She never wanted to let go.
“You did amazing. I love you.”
“Thank you.”, she whispered, her voice suddenly gone.
But nothing was made to be forever, and with a single tear of joy (fear?) running down her cheek, Lydia pried herself away from the welcoming embrace of her boyfriend.
Her pack wasn’t far behind.
She had barely let go of Stiles before Scott pulled her close. The arms encircling her back made her feel safe, his presence comforting in a way Lydia couldn’t describe to anyone who wasn’t part of a pack.
“I am so proud of you! Third best in your class! A master’s in theoretical mathematics with twenty-two! I knew you are a genius, but, damn, Lydia…”, Scott whispered in her ear, giddiness evident in his voice. She laughed at his compliments, her cheeks growing wetter and wetter with tears. Her makeup was ruined now for sure.
Next in line for a hug was Kira, the kitsune grinning as their bodies met. Electricity cackled overhead, and a blush crawled up Kira’s cheeks. “Sorry, my control is near perfect, I’m just so excited to see you again.”
Instead of an answer, Lydia simply pulled her closer once more. It was moments like these that made her miss Allison – Lydia loved Kira. Loved Malia. Loved Scott and Stiles and Isaac. Loved the guys back home. But… Kira’s hugs would never be Allison’s. Malia’s cuddles would never be like the ones she shared with her best friend.
They were supposed to go to college together – and now Lydia had finished all on her own.
Malia hugged her next, exclamations of pride following the woman, even as Derek pushed her aside to formerly offer Lydia a handshake and a grin. What a weirdo, Lydia thought, fondness growing in her gut. Derek had changed in the years after he left Beacon Hills, grown softer and rounder and… more like the person Lydia suspected he had always been meant to be.
She liked this new Derek Hale, even if he still wore leather jackets and occasionally hunted down supernatural creatures together with his girlfriend and full-time mercenary Braeden.
The girlfriend in question offered Lydia a polite smile, and then her mother finally managed to find their group as well, sweeping her into a hug so tight, Lydia feared she would never be able to breathe again. Natalie Martin was dressed in a beautiful gown, her makeup perfectly applied, blue eyes swimming with unshed tears. Yes, they had their differences over the years (some part of Lydia would never fully forgive her for Eichen House, even if the logical side of her brain knew that her mom had just done what she thought was best) but they were still mother and daughter.
They loved each other, despite the past, maybe even because of it.
“My baby girl! Look at how much you’ve grown! And-“, Lydia didn’t get a chance to answer, before her mom pulled back again, scrutinizing the people in their little bubble, “And your friends are all here as well. I am so happy to see you.”
Natalie Martin might never understand pack, but she wasn’t lying when she said she was glad Lydia’s friends were here. If that weren’t the truth, her mom wouldn’t have rented the cabin for them to celebrate in. She wouldn’t have organized the lunch party at the Ritz.
All of them had done some healing over the past few years. Some growing up.
They made their way out of the great hall, past clusters of happy families and tearful goodbyes. Lydia had said her goodbyes to her college friends the day before, all their numbers memorized and saved on her phone. Today was for her family. Today was for her pack.
(the rest of the weekend would be for Kira, Malia, Scott, Stiles, Isaac, and her – Derek and Braeden welcome additions to their little circle)
Stiles was walking next to her, his hand brushing against hers with every step they took. Her mom was a few steps ahead, Scott following closely behind. Kira and Malia were next to her and Stiles, Isaac lost deep in conversation with Derek and Braeden. It felt… right, to walk like this. They were protecting her, some part of her brain noticed, and her body felt warm.
Lydia Martin wasn’t some damsel in distress – but she could appreciate the comfort that came from being 100% safe. Nothing could touch her if she was surrounded by these people.
Yeah, going back to California was the right choice.
“You’re silent.”
Stiles’ words startled her out of her reverie, her eyes finding his. He was right, of course. She had barely said anything since her friends had arrived. There was a lot happening in her head right now.
“Sorry, yeah… it’s just a bit-“
“Overwhelming?”
“Yeah.”
“I gotcha. I was completely all over the place during my graduation.”
Another echo of pain raced through Lydia’s heart. She had missed his graduation because of her stupid end-of-term project, and she had missed what had followed (moments of a breakdown) because she was half a continent away and Skype just wasn’t enough.
“Stiles, I’m so-“
“No! No, I didn’t say that to make you feel bad! Really! I just… I wanted… It’s weird to finish college. It’s a lot. I get it.”
His words rang true, his eyes full of honesty. Lydia knew that every wolf in a 100 feet radius was listening in on their conversation, but she had long ago grown used to the constant erosion of boundaries werewolf packs were prone to.
“Yeah. It’s just… I’m so happy all of you are here. Just… I can’t stop thinking about Allison. We always said, we’d graduate together, buy prom dresses and flowers and matching shoes.”, she offered a truth as a sign of trust, as a “I love you” since she hadn’t said it earlier.
“I know what you mean. When they gave me my diploma, all I could think about was… for the longest time, I was convinced I wouldn’t survive High School… and now, suddenly, I’m supposed to be a normal adult with a normal degree and a normal job? What about all the people – all of us – who didn’t…?”
His voice broke, and the next time his hand brushed against hers, she took it, interlocking their fingers. They could do this. Together. Today was a happy day. She had just finished university. She had taken a step closer towards her dream. She had- She had survived, the best gift she could possibly give Allison.
“We’re never gonna be normal, so don’t fret it, Stiles.”
Malia’s head appeared next to hers. She must have stepped closer while Lydia and Stiles were talking, the smile on her face friendly and a tiny bit guilty. There was something unreadable in Stiles’ gaze when he looked at her, and Lydia got the uncomfortable suspicion that something had happened during their drive up here.
Her heart stumbled, but Lydia forced it to keep beating regularly. She didn’t want to think like this, she didn’t want to feel like this. And she couldn’t ask – not with hundreds of people walking past them every second, not with half a dozen werewolves listening to her heartbeat
Her brain was just tired, her nerves raw because of the ritualistic significance of what had just happened. You didn’t graduate from MIT every day; it was normal to feel a bit wired. It was normal to grapple with the things you had always accepted as true (Stiles Stilinski was in love with Lydia Martin) because of a giant shift in the routine of your everyday life. Things very afoot! Things were changing!
Lydia was just anxious. This wasn’t a banshee feeling or a bad omen, this was just… basic psychology.
“You’re right, Malia. You’re all pretty extraordinary.”
Stiles’ smile was the tinniest bit self-deprecating, his tone just a tad wrong, but Lydia wouldn’t call him out on it just yet. Instead, she tightened her grip on his hand.
Together, together, together.
“Isn’t that the truth.”
Her words tasted like ash on the tip of her tongue, but she was Lydia Martin. She would push onwards, and she would win. Only… she wasn’t sure what she was fighting against. Or who. There were no monsters at Cambridge, all her friends supernatural creatures and survivors. If she looked around all she could see was high ceilings and normalcy, the hallways of the great hall endless. Stiles’ hand was warm where his skin touched hers, the brush of his shoulder comforting. Isaac was laughing at something Derek had said, Kira looking at Scott as if he had hung the moon.
They were together, and even with Allison’s ghost following her around today, that didn’t explain the feeling of dread that had overcome her when she saw the five of them enter together. Today was supposed to be about her. She had graduated from MIT! The most important people in her life had come to Cambridge just to celebrate with her! She was in love! She was loved! She was successful! And yet… when Malia had looked at Stiles like that, cold seeped into Lydia’s bones.
Maybe it was because she recognized that look.
It was the same way she looked at Stiles, the way he looked at her. It was the silent communication Stiles and Scott shared, and the shy smiles exchanged between their alpha and Kira. It was the lingering touches between Isaac and Scott, and it was the way Kira’s eyes would follow Malia everywhere.
It was love.
And suddenly Lydia understood why she could feel unease grow inside her heart.
They were in love. This shouldn’t be such a shocking realization – especially considering their past – but Lydia could feel the pieces fall into place inside her own mind. Her relationship with Stiles was different from the one she had with Jackson or Aiden or the faceless boys she shared her bed with, but it had still been monogamous in the strictest sense. The sex she had with strangers was meaningless. It was an activity she enjoyed. There was no emotion tied to it… but with Stiles? He was the one she was in love with. Her boyfriend – and what a juvenile word that was – and her partner in crime.
And she didn’t doubt that he was in love with her. It was written on his skin, embedded in his soul. He just also… He just also loved Scott. And Malia. And… well, Lydia wasn’t sure about Isaac or Kira or Derek, but that wasn’t- she didn’t want to focus on that right now. She couldn’t focus on that. Her heart was busy breaking, and she didn’t even know why.
She watched them as they stepped out of the main building, the late morning sun kissing her hair and making it glow red. Her mother had lost some of her headmistress march, now talking to Braeden, the two of them in their own bubble, even if Lydia had no idea what interests they could possibly share. Stiles was silent next to her, though Lydia could see the gears in his head turn. She didn’t know what he was thinking about but something told her it probably wasn’t good.
Scott and Malia were checking the perimeter for danger, their shoulders tense now that they were out in the open. When Lydia turned around she could see Kira, Derek, and Isaac caught up in a conversation that seemed deeply awkward, but that might just be their personalities mixing in the worst possible way.
They looked like they had always had, their shoulders a bit broader now than they had been when they were still in High School. There was nothing different about them. They were hers, the same way she belonged to them--- and yet, it felt as if Lydia had lost something with her realization.
Yes, she belonged to them, but not in the same way Stiles did. Banshees were no pack animals, Lydia could survive on her own. Stiles belonged to Scott, he deserved Malia, he… he deserved all of them should he want them. It was something Lydia couldn’t give him.
Only she could.
She loved him. They were together, together, together but there was something separating her love for him from his love for everyone else. She couldn’t look at Scott as if she wanted to kiss him, and while she found Isaac attractive there was no romantic spark coming alight in her heart when she looked at him. Sex was just an activity she was good at, but her heart belonged only to Stiles. It hurt to realize that the same could not be said for him. Not that- Lydia was sure he had never betrayed her like that.
He loved her.
This was the one truth she had to hold onto, the one fact she couldn’t allow herself to forget.
With a small smile, Lydia untangled her hand from Stiles’. He looked at her then, a question visible in his bright amber eyes, but Lydia’s only answer was a kiss. She didn’t tell him that it was a goodbye kiss. At least not yet. They still had an entire weekend together.
A weekend Lydia could use to make sure Stiles got what he deserved. A weekend to make sure it wouldn’t hurt as much once she tried to let go.
It was for the best.
She was doing this for him (for herself).
Lydia had her PhD program, her research, her college friends. She wouldn’t leave the pack, she would still return to California, she would make the right choices… and right now, the right choice was to let Stiles go. To let him have Scott and Malia and whoever else he wanted, without breaking him down any further. Without holding him back.
She could do it.
(her heart was breaking, fear eating her alive – they had been StilesandLydia for so long… but what was she supposed to do? Force him to only ever love her when he so clearly loved someone else?)
She was Lydia Martin, and her parties were famous. She was Lydia Martin, recent MIT graduate and post-grad on her way to get a PhD in theoretical mathematics. She was Lydia Martin, and once she had a plan, she would see it to succession.
“Now, guys, we have three cars to get to the Ritz and our reservation is in half an hour – three people per car, and we should be good to go!”
Her mom’s teacher voice broke through her resolve – through her attempts to ignore the pain – calling all of them to attention. Lydia took a step towards her, signaling that she would drive with her mom and not with Stiles. Scott wasn’t the only one who sent a questioning look in Lydia’s direction, but his inquiring gaze was the hardest to ignore.
(Stiles didn’t even look hurt, he just smiled, puzzlement evident on his face)
And yet she did it.
She stepped away from her friends, her pack, and towards her mom – she was only surprised when Isaac followed her.
Isaac wasn’t quite sure why he had done it. Maybe he still felt guilty about trying to kill Lydia when they were sixteen, or maybe he simply understood where she was coming from.
It would have been hard to miss the sings of anxiety and panic coming from the banshee even without his superior werewolf nose, but Isaac had smelled her fear from ten feet away. Her face of course had shown not even a glimmer of discomfort, but her body was so tense not even her high heels made her successfully appear tall. Lydia Martin had a personality bigger than most ballrooms, and yet she had almost seemed small when they’d made their way towards the car.
She had stepped away from Stiles – that was probably the biggest sign that something was wrong.
Isaac just really hoped it wasn’t murder this time.
He was kind of looking forward to eating at the Ritz at the expense of someone rich. And, yes, Isaac hadn’t lived in poverty ever since his father died, but Derek hadn’t cared for food beyond its ability to sustain him, and the McCalls had an abundance of love but not of money. Argent had made sure Isaac would have enough of everything once he left him in France but even then, places like the Ritz where out of the question. Obviously. Who had the money to invite a bunch of young adults to a fancy hotel like the Ritz? A newly rich again Natalie Martin, apparently.
He watched as the buildings of the city turned into an indistinguishable blur before addressing the giant elephant in the room. Car. Whatever.
“Everything alright?”
Lydia sat next to him in the backseat of the car, her mom behind the wheel, driving them as if they were twelve and not twenty-two. He knew Lydia had heard him, could see her flinch out of the corner of his eye, his voice pulling her out of whatever hell she had fallen into. She didn’t want to talk, and it didn’t look like one of her fugue states.
Okay.
That was fine with him.
They didn’t really know each other, after all.
Isaac had a crush on her when he was fourteen, and then she went and broke his heart as she was prone to do. They hadn’t really known each other during High School – until suddenly they did. Lydia had been Allison’s best friend. And while Isaac would always be more of a maybe, an almost, a hopefully soon, when it came to Allison, he had seen the two girls together, had even spent some time with them as well. They hadn’t shared much, but they had shared a pack.
Isaac came back for Scott. For Argent. For Melissa. Hell, maybe even for Stiles and Derek. (For Malia). He hadn’t come back for her – and yet here he was, sharing an awkward silence with the Queen of Beacon Hills during an awkward car ride to her graduation luncheon.
Isaac couldn’t even really remember when they had last talked one-on-one. They were in the same groupchat, showed up at the same parties, bantered during video calls… but if he was being honest, Isaac barely knew the Lydia Martin sitting next to him, and he would bet his meagre possessions that the same was true for her. She didn’t know him.
And yet… he had chosen to ride this car together with her.
“Everything’s fine. Thanks for asking, Isaac.”
Her voice was small. It was wrong. Everything about Lydia was so big, it was easy to forget that she was physically the smallest of them all. Until now. Right now, it was hard to see past the frailness of her body, the fickleness of her humanity.
“Really?”
“What?”
“Is everything really fine? You can tell me. I won’t snitch.”
And he meant it. Unless it endangered the pack (Isaac really hoped it wasn’t a murder Lydia was worrying about) Isaac would keep his mouth shut, even if Scott begged him with his puppy dog eyes and Stiles threatened violence.
Mrs. Martin in the front seat did her best to give them their space, to close her ears off to this conversation. It was a nice gesture, if a futile one. His own dad wouldn’t even have tried.
“It’s just… I’ve been thinking about Allison a lot today. I even picked this dress to honor her. She was supposed to stand next to me on the stage, but instead she’s dead. Almost six years since…”
He didn’t have to look at her to know that tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. He could hear her swallow the grief back down, the pain in her scent spiking before it returned to a more normal level. It was still high, worryingly so, but she seemed to have it back under control.
“Almost six years since we buried one of our friends. It’s crazy how fast time moves. I- I think, Allison would have loved your dress.” It took all his strength, but Isaac managed to turn around and see her. He looked at her complicated hairdo, and her perfect makeup. He looked at the blue dress draped over her body, and he knew he had told the truth. Allison would have loved that dress, “She would have told you how pretty it is – and then she would have told you how unpractical it is. She’d have a thousand complaints, at least one of them being that her Chinese ring daggers couldn’t be concealed anywhere on her body if she wore that thing.”
A small smile appeared on Lydia’s face – Isaac must have done something right. He missed Allison as well. She had been the reason he left Beacon Hills, after all. She was that last drop too much. One last heartbreak to force him away from the town that had hurt him again and again. He hadn’t yet loved her – but he could have, and on some days that hurt the most. The possibilities of a future he could have shared with this amazing girl… only to see her die, only to watch as she disappeared like Boyd and Erica and Cora had before her.
He couldn’t even imagine how hard it must have been for Scott and Lydia, who gave Allison their entire hearts and not just parts of it. They stayed. They fought. They bled.
They survived.
Maybe that was why he returned to Beacon Hills. Because he owed it to Allison to protect the people she had died for. Because Allison had faced the Oni to save Lydia, and it was high time Isaac faced his past to help the McCall pack.
“How’s it going? With your job, I mean. You’re training to become a social worker, right?”
Her question took him by surprise. Lydia had never particularly cared for his career before, but when he looked at her he saw it for what it was: an attempt at small talk, a stumbling effort to change the topic, an offer of comradery.
“Well, I’m going to school to become one. The community college has a bachelor’s in social work, and they accepted my transfer credits from the university I’d gone to in Paris. One more year, and I should be able to finish my degree.”
He tried not to sound too excited, tried to keep the pride out of his voice. No one in his family had gone to college besides his dad. His mom had worked as a kindergarten teacher before she got sick and tried to leave. Camden had joined the army because he knew they couldn’t afford his dream college. Or any college at all. And Isaac? Isaac had given up hope by the time he was fourteen and got locked up in the freezer for forty-eight hours because he told his dad he wanted to become a professional dancer.
But look at him now… he had finished High School at a prestigious international school in Paris, had attended a good university in the city proper, and his degree was barely a year out of grasp. He had done it.
He had succeeded, where his father had done his best to make it impossible for Isaac to even dare and dream.
“Social work, huh? Want to save the world from a different kind of monster, I wager.”, Lydia said. She didn’t sound mean – but she sounded resigned, as if she was sick of monsters of any kind. Isaac was too, but he had accepted a long time ago that he would never be able to run from the truth: just because you’re tired, doesn’t mean the world stops and considers your pain.
Often the only thing you could do was push forward and survive another day. And often the strongest thing you could do, was survive with a smile on your face. Scott had been the one to teach him that, and Isaac tried to ignore the warm feeling in his gut at the thought of his alpha.
“There are a lot of kids out there who need help. And I think many of them might even be supernatural. I talked to Scott and we both think it’s a great idea to keep an eye out for any baby werewolves or kitsunes.”
“That sounds great. It sounds… hopeful. I like that.”
Lydia was truly smiling now, just as they pulled up in front of a hotel so slathered in gold décor Isaac prayed the Martins would really pay for the food. Argent helped him out financially, yes, but this was still a bit much.
Mrs. Martin parked the car – she gave the keys to a freaking parking attendee! – and before he knew it, Isaac was being ushered out of the vehicle and into the foyer of the Ritz. Watching the well-dressed employees of the hotel bustle around as men and women in business attire stepped in and out of elevators, Isaac really wished they had taken the time to change before falling into Stiles’ Jeep immediately after their plane landed.
It was only when he saw Derek and Braeden and Malia enter the building as well, that Isaac noticed that he still didn’t know what was wrong with Lydia, the woman in question never once answering his inquiry. It wasn’t Allison, that’s for sure.
The Ritz had prepared a huge buffet for them (and another party of twenty). Isaac couldn’t quite believe his eyes. There was truffle pasta and devilled eggs with caviar. He might even have spotted a lobster on one of the plates one of the other guests carried past him! It was… a bit much.
But some of the ice had tawed, and Lydia was smiling again, even if it was still a bit strained. She was definitely the prettiest person in the whole room, and Isaac could see how much she enjoyed that knowledge, bathed in the glory of being admired and stared at. Everyone with a working pair of eyes also noticed her sidestepping Stiles’ attempts to talk to her, but for now everything was seemingly alright. Or as alright as it could be these days.
Braeden was talking to Malia about guns on the other side of the big table they were seated at, and Isaac did his best to focus on the two women and the mountains of delicious food in front of him, instead of the two people next to him. Sharing a plane with them had already been bad enough.
Scott and Kira were giggling, blushing, blustering, their love stinking up the whole room. Isaac wasn’t jealous – he really wasn’t – it was just… they weren’t even acting on it! Scott had accidentally touched Kira’s arm once during their flight and he had apologized five times before making sure it wouldn’t happen again.
Kira had clung to his arm instead of reaching for Scott when their plane hit turbulences, for fuck’s sake! And Scott had sat next to her! And yet they evidently also couldn’t stop flirting. Isaac wasn’t jealous, but Malia probably was. She had every right to be – she was Scott’s girlfriend after all, even if Isaac had only seen them kiss once. But when he glanced at her again her eyes were following Stiles, her hands busy explaining a new stun gun prototype Argent had shown her to Braeden.
Okay.
Maybe Scott and Malia had a few things to talk about.
It was none of Isaac’s business. If he focused enough, he could probably block out the pheromones in the air. Maybe he should join the conversation between Malia and Braeden – he had learned quite a bit about hunting while living in France. Argent’s relatives had gladly taught him how to fight like a hunter and before coming back and joining Scott’s pack again – for real this time – Isaac had felt more like an Argent than a werewolf.
He could probably impress the mercenary with his in-depth knowledge of wolfsbane.
It was better than Lydia and Derek’s conversation about grimoires, that’s for sure.
(at least Mrs. Martin looked just as lost as Isaac felt in the face of the chosen conversation topics)
Before he could insert himself with a well-placed one-liner about his favorite strand of wolfsbane (it was yellow) however, Scott touched his shoulder, and Isaac had to fight every instinct to not just melt into the touch.
“Hey, Isaac… maybe you can settle this for us: swords or nunchucks?”
“What for?”
Isaac did his best to return Scott’s intense gaze. He wanted to lean into Scott’s hand, wanted to ignore everything but on the palm on his shoulder, the warm skin brushing against his… but he looked at Scott instead, 100% focus.
“Fighting?”, Kira said, as if it’d been obvious. It probably had been, but Isaac wasn’t really capable of following their conversation. At least not currently. Not with Scott touching him.
“I mean… what kind of fighting? In a close-range battle… nunchucks are probably more versatile, but a sword is deadlier.”
His answer seemed to be the right one, judging by the grin on Scott’s face. Surprisingly enough, though, it was Kira who exclaimed “I told you, Scott! The glow in the dark nunchucks are useful!”. She was smiling as well, her entire face glowing.
Maybe Isaac could understand why Scott had fallen in love with her.
It was easier to talk to them following this weird intermission, and some part of Isaac knew that it had been Scott’s plan all along. It was easy to forget how cunning Scott could be, especially since he usually used it for good. Scott didn’t like tricking people – and Isaac really wouldn’t classify this as such – but he was unnervingly good when he was forced to do it anyway.
(funnily enough, Stiles was the person who tended to grab a baseball bat and attack fueled by the pure refusal to die whenever one of his plans failed and they had to improvise – they improvised a lot over the years)
Isaac laughed, and shared a story or two of his own (he told them about the time he tried to join a dance group in France and how a girl he had gone on a date with had mocked his accent until Isaac had almost cried because he was laughing so hard), and they shared some of theirs (Kira had apparently kissed one of the Skinwalkers she was “training” with to steal some pudding – and Scott laughed as he told them about the time Stiles had called him at 2am because he was convinced aliens were real and trying to steal him). Before he knew it, his plate was empty again, only this time Isaac wasn’t mesmerized by the food – he just wanted more things to fuel this conversation he had fallen into.
“I’m gonna get some more.”, he said, already pushing his chair back.
“Oh, I’m coming with you. I haven’t tried the shrimp yet.”
Isaac hadn’t counted on anyone coming with him, but he really hadn’t thought that someone would be Stiles. Their friendship had a rocky start, and even now… they weren’t really close. Yes, they had saved each other’s lives a few times, yes, they would probably die for each other, yes, they were pack and that meant more than people realized. But… Stiles was Stiles and Isaac was Isaac – any friend group could only survive so many sarcastic assholes before something exploded. In their case… it was often the two of them who caused the explosion and ended up getting caught up in it.
They were silent on their way to the buffet, aware that eyes and ears were following them. Scott was horrible when it came to listening in, and Derek and Malia had never even heard of the concept of boundaries.
The scrutiny made it hard to stay hungry, the eyes of his friends heavy. For a moment Isaac wondered if Lydia was watching them as well. He didn’t wonder out loud – it would be cruel if he did, Stiles’ anxiety already clogging the back of his throat with its putrid smell. Isaac tried to be less of an asshole these days, and from what he could tell Stiles had grown up a lot in his absence as well. Hell, he was dating Lydia Martin, the former queen of Beacon Hills High! And yet… no matter how old they got Stiles never stopped smelling like a cocked gun ready to decent into madness. Paranoia, fear, anger, pain, hunger clung to his skin like a fitted leather jacket, the stench never truly going away.
After a while all the weres had learned not to comment on it.
Soon enough the smell of perfectly cooked meat overpowered the smell of Stiles’ secrets. The variety in front of him made it easier to forget his unease, the faint sound of conversation picking back up at their table reaching his ears. They wandered up and down the buffet table, barely thirty seconds passing by before Stiles broke and said, “And? Are you looking forward to the weekend?”.
Ah, yes.
The weekend they would spent together in a luxury cabin somewhere near Cambridge. Monday morning they would fly back to California, getting on with their lives, but until then… the next seventy hours the eight of them would spent in one place with no way to escape.
(Mrs. Martin would thankfully refrain from joining them)
Isaac was really looking forward to it. Especially with the tension between Stiles and Lydia, and the weird looks between Malia and Scott and the way Kira smelled whenever she accidentally thought about Scott, and the way his heartbeat started to accelerate whenever Scott smiled that special smile of his…
“Lydia promised me a jacuzzi, so as long as I get that, I’m more than happy to spend some time with your sorry ass.”, he said, instead of all the words going through his head.
“My ass is amazing, thank you very much.”
Stiles had the nerve to wink at him. It was so surprising, Isaac actually laughed. It was a short bark, almost animalistic, but it was a genuine show of joy. Maybe global warming was fake as well, weirder things had happened.
“Eh, I wouldn’t be too sure of that. Just because you have more ass than Derek doesn’t mean you can put the ass into sass.”
It was a horrible pun, and Isaac was already cringing before he had finished talking, but the shock and utter delight on Stiles’ face made it worth it. They were laughing. The two of them were standing at an overly expensive buffet at the Ritz and they were laughing.
The world must be ending.
“You know, I’m glad you’re back, man. I still can’t stand your scarves and your weird urge to wear cardigans in 80-degree weather, but… I guess, you’re alright, dude.”
Isaac had been back in the US for over a year now, and him and Stiles had even worked together once to defeat evil pixies… but this was the first time the other man had admitted to liking Isaac. It was weird how happy it made him to hear it.
“I guess… for a spastic idiot… you’re quite alright as well.”
“Aw, don’t get all sentimental on me.”
They were on their way back when Isaac made a mistake – or maybe good things just weren’t meant to last. He turned around to Stiles, smiling as he asked, “Hey, why are you coming back to Cali, by the way? They don’t have an FBI program close to Beacon Hills.”.
Something complicated happened on Stiles’ face. He went pale, shame and horror flashing behind his eyes before anger dominated all his other emotions, violently pushing to the forefront of his expression.
“Fuck you, Isaac. Just- fuck you. And fuck off.”
With a bang Stiles placed his plate on the table, before turning around and running off. It happened so fast, Isaac didn’t even get a chance to react. He just stood there, all his friends staring at him, a plate full of slowly cooling food in his hands, as something broke. Or maybe the cracks had already been there, and all of them had been too focused on ignoring them to deal with what might happen once they finally fell apart.
For a moment everything was silent. Too silent.
And then Lydia stood up, as if to hurry after Stiles, only to stop in the midst of her movement. She was frozen, her scent changing from worried to resolute. There was a frown on her beautiful face when she sat back down as if nothing had happened, her gaze unwavering when it landed on Scott.
“Scott, why don’t you check up on Stiles?”
“Me?”
“Yes. You. He’s probably in one of the restrooms. It would be awkward for me to follow him in there. You’re his best friend. Go! Get him!”
Her eyes were ablaze, her hair fiery in the warm light of the chandeliers. This wasn’t a Lydia you could say no to. Not that Scott wanted to say no. Stiles was his best friend. Isaac watched as their alpha stood up, worry evident in the curve of his full lips, while he was still frozen in place.
An awkward silence descended onto the table as all of them followed Scott’s running walk out of the room with their eyes, food forgotten in the face of yet another crisis, even if this seemed to be a human one. Isaac wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to do, if he should say sorry, if he should beg for forgiveness or ask for an explanation.
He was lost.
He hated feeling like this.
“Sit down, Isaac.”, snapped Lydia, her eyes cold, her skin blotchy even under all that makeup.
He did, his arm brushing against Kira as he did so. The kitsune smiled at him, even if it was forced. He appreciated it, just as he appreciated her efforts to comfort him with touch. She was more observant than he had first thought.
There was a horribly stilted quality to the conversations that followed. Two of their own were missing – probably hugging in some janitor’s closet – and nobody wanted to acknowledge it in case they soured Lydia’s mood even further.
This was supposed to be a celebration, a symbolic weekend for all of them. This weekend was supposed to bring all of them back together. To strengthen their bonds and create something better. And instead… they were fighting, not talking, thinking of the dead.
Isaac found himself watching Lydia, and he knew he wasn’t the only one. Malia’s eyes never left the red head either, Derek following every word she said. She had sent Scott to follow Stiles, something Isaac still stumbled over whenever he thought about it. Lydia had never cared about others seeing her when she comforted someone else – she had kissed Stiles in the middle of the boy’s restroom once in High School. So… why now?
And why Scott?
Lydia wouldn’t give him an answer, Isaac knew that much. At least not if he simply asked. He would have to figure this out on his own. He might not be a detective like Stiles or a tracker like Malia… but Isaac was an honorary Argent, and he knew how to hunt.
He had seventy hours to find an answer, that should be more than enough.
Kira knew a thing or two about awkward. Hell, she was the Queen of Awkward. Or- well, most of the time Kira felt more like a court jester.
The atmosphere currently reigning over the occupants of the cabin could only be described as… awkward as fuck. They’d gotten here two hours after lunch, the drive already tense, none of the tension breaking once they reached the beautiful building in the middle of the woods.
Cabin was truly underselling it. Yes, it was made out of wood, but that’s where the simplistic image evoked by the word “cabin” reached its limits, and the luxury of their weekend get-away began. There was a freaking jacuzzi out in the back! It had two stories and six bedrooms! Four bathrooms and two kitchens! A living room so lavish, Kira had started naming all the dead animals in it when they arrived, and she still hadn’t finished – even though most of the others had retreated to their rooms following dinner.
(and hadn’t it been awkward to stand by and watch as Lydia asked Stiles if he wouldn’t rather share with Scott for the night)
Kira was still sitting in the living room, a cackling fire in front of her. Yes, it was summer, yes, after almost four years in the desert, she should never want to feel warm again… but right now the prospect of returning to her empty room to sleep alone in a comfortable bed seemed horrible. Worse than the Skinwalkers. Worse than the SATs she had to retake when she returned to California. Worse than watching Scott and Malia kiss.
Kira wasn’t a jealous person. She wasn’t. Hell, she got together with Scott after his first girlfriend died in his arms, telling him that he would always be her biggest love. It was hard not to feel insecure in Allison’s shadow, but Kira had realized rather quickly that she wasn’t a replacement – she was simply Kira. Herself. Someone worth loving.
So, no, she wasn’t jealous that Scott had fallen for someone else while she was gone. It was dumb to think he would wait five years for her. For all they knew, Scott and the rest thought she would be gone for decades (and yes, her mom and the Skinwalkers had made it sound as if that were the case). It was just… Kira was in love with Scott.
And he didn’t owe her anything, but sometimes it hurt to see his eyes follow Stiles, or his arm brush against Isaac, only to realize he barely touched her at all. It was as if he was afraid of being close to her. And it hurt.
It hurt so, so much.
It hurt to know that he had moved on, even though Kira was glad she was allowed to be by his side and watch him be happy. He deserved happiness. Heck, all of them deserved happiness.
(it didn’t help that Kira wasn’t sure who she was jealous of when she watched Malia and Scott kiss – in some of her fantasies it were Malia’s lips brushing against hers instead of Scott’s)
But yes… back on track. The awkwardness in the cabin was stifling. They had barely talked during dinner, Scott and Stiles glued to each other’s side, doing that annoying thing where they had entire conversations just with their eyes. Neither of them had said anything about the redness underneath Stiles’ eyes or the reason why he had snapped at Isaac. Lydia had excused herself from the table, using a headache as an excuse, only to leave tension behind even after her presence was gone from the room.
Derek had cooked dinner – which had been a surprise all on its own – only for Isaac to follow him everywhere, watching him like a hawk. Or a wolf. It was fitting, even if Kira wasn’t quite sure why the beta werewolf was doing this. Only Braeden had acted normal – but then again Kira didn’t know her well enough to be able to say when the mercenary was being normal and when she was putting up an act.
(Malia had turned into a coyote the moment they arrived at the cabin, running into the woods to frolic before Stiles had managed to even stop the car)
This was not how Kira had imagined this weekend to go.
She had been looking forward to it! After finals week, she deserved a weekend get-away, some luxury and good food to balance out all the stress of getting back on track educationally after living in the desert for a few years.
She was thinking about applying to a few universities in California for an art degree next year, but she hadn’t told anyone yet, not even Malia, who she shared a few classes at the community college with. She had planned on doing so this weekend. Scott had promised her a new beginning when he told her about Lydia’s plans to celebrate her graduation here.
It had felt fitting to tell them about her ideas for the future on a weekend like that… but right now it felt more like an ending, a monster trying to consume something good, than the start of something new.
The fire was a good companion though. It didn’t judge, and it didn’t force Kira to talk.
There were a lot of things she could talk about but didn’t.
There was the fact that she had earned a second tail when she left the Skinwalkers, proving that she was stronger than her fox, better than what the Dread Doctors had done to her. She was thinking about gifting it to Malia – two people she cared about holding onto literal representations of her soul.
There was the uncomfortable truth that the Skinwalkers hadn’t been all bad. Kira had hated her time there, forced away from her pack and her boyfriend, until she realized… that there was freedom in the way the Skinwalkers lived, love in the way they fought, community in the way they thought. And Kira had fallen in love with their way of life, had kissed more than just the one she told Scott and Isaac about. When she left, she had done so because it was time for her to move on, and not because she had escaped.
(the pack wasn’t ready to hear that version of the story yet)
There were other things as well – her relationship with her mother, her need to fight, her love for art – but Kira was tired of thinking so much. Sadly, the fire might be a good listener, but it was shit at distracting her.
“And? Found the answer to the great mysteries of life yet?”
Braeden’s voice broke her out of her revery, the mercenary smiling when she leaned back in one of the comfortable armchairs scattered around the room, a glass of Scotch in her hand. No one else was in the room with them, and Kira wondered why she hadn’t heard the woman move. Then again… Braeden was good at her job, so good, she survived going after the Desert Wolf.
“Nah. For some reason the flames think I should figure it out on my own. Really insensitive of them.” Kira said.
“Yeah… fire is not the best life counselor. But you know… I’m here, and I have a few more conscious thoughts than a burning piece of wood.”
It was an easy offer, no transaction or pressure hidden behind Braeden’s words. Maybe that was what made Kira consider answering.
What made her answer at all.
“When did you fall in love with Derek?”
“Huh, not the question I expected… but sure. I think it was when he lost his powers and thought he could fight me. I kicked a gun out of his grip and- I don’t know. It felt right.”
Kira turned around to really look at the mercenary, and Braeden was smiling, the scars on her neck accessories and not blemishes. Braeden was pretty in the way survivors often were: she was dangerous and deadly and every scar on her body was a badge of victory.
Kira understood why Derek had fallen in love with her. Braeden reminded her of Malia.
“Not when- not when you saved his life in Mexico?”
“Which time?”
“There were more-?”, Kira could feel herself blush, the idea of Braeden breaking down a door to come and save her Derek an uncomfortably hot one.
“I met Derek a few times before we had the time to sit down and get to know each other, Kira. But that’s not what you really want to know, is it?”
No, it wasn’t.
“What would you do if you came back from a very long hunt and while you were away… Derek fell in love with someone else?”
It wasn’t even subtle. Kira could feel her blush deepen.
“Well, at first I would probably be hurt. And then… I’d try to figure out how it’d happened. And then… I’d ask myself if he really doesn’t love me anymore of if it’s an assumption I made on my own.”
It was awfully and awkwardly obvious that Braeden wasn’t recounting her own hypothetical reactions – she was telling Kira how she thought Kira should proceed. Well, it was Kira’s own fault for being so utterly transparent in her intentions.
“Sure. I- I mean, you could do that. Or you could mope in front of a fire in the middle of summer because the first boy you ever told you loved him is now dating the girl you kinda sometimes wanna kiss.”
“Or you could do that.”
Braeden had the nerve to smirk as she said that, getting up from her armchair with a sigh. The glass of Scotch was empty, the shadows underneath her eyes deep. She had probably hoped this weekend would be different as well. More jacuzzi and less early-twenties relationship drama.
Kira definitely understood where she was coming from.
While she was with the Skinwalkers the teenage drama of her love life had also felt so insignificant… but that was before she returned to the mortal realm, where hormones played a much larger role in her daily life.
“Have a good night, Braeden.”
“You too, Kira. And maybe talk to that girl you sometimes wanna kiss.” And with these words, Braeden was gone, her leather boots completely silent as she stepped out of the room and into the kitchen.
Puzzlement washed over Kira. She really hadn’t thought that part would be the bit Braeden stumbled over. She had always assumed the mercenary was rather open-minded, considering her walk of life… but, no, Braeden hadn’t judged her. She was teasing her – and when Kira turned around, she could see why: in the doorway leading to the entrance hall of the cabin stood a very confused looking Malia.
A very naked and confused looking Malia.
Kira could feel her cheeks darken, heat crawling up her spine.
“Um…”
“A girl you sometimes want to kiss?”
There was no shame in Malia’s voice, just pure curiosity. She was looking at her with her head turned sideways like a wild animal – and on some days Malia was a wild animal, a majestic one – her body language open and relaxed.
She wasn’t hiding her nakedness, and for a moment Kira wasn’t sure if it was pure envy cursing through her veins or if it was a pulse of lust. Maybe both. Probably both. Kira didn’t hate her body, she liked it rather well, but growing up in the city had made her wary of the gaze of strangers – until that wariness turned into shame whenever she had to be naked in front of others.
Malia didn’t know that shame, Lydia used it like a weapon. Kira wanted to… but not even the Skinwalkers could truly free her of the leering gazes of old men in New York who called her “Anime girl”.
“Uh…” Kira couldn’t quite find her words, something hot and heavy keeping them captive.
“You can tell me. You don’t have to, of course… but there’s a girl I sometimes want to kiss as well.”
While Kira got caught up in her head, Malia crossed the room, sitting down opposite Kira with her legs spread. Kira did her best not to stare. She wasn’t all that successful.
Not for the first time, she wished she had the same ability to smell emotions that the weres had. This seemed awfully provocative, even for Malia, but Kira couldn’t trust her nose to tell her whether or not Malia was pushing her buttons on purpose.
“Is it Lydia?” Malia asked, and Kira couldn’t help herself: she laughed, some of the tension leaving her body like a giant wave. Kira loved Lydia Martin, resident drama queen, but she certainly didn’t want to kiss her.
“No. No, it’s really not.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Yeah. Because I want to be the girl you want to kiss.”
And for the first time since Malia had appeared in front of her Kira could tell that she wasn’t the only one nervous and flustered and all over the place. Malia was blushing. Kira hadn’t even known she could do that.
“Oh.”
“Yes.”
“Oh, yeah… you are. You are the girl I want to kiss.”
Maybe it was because Malia had taught her how to dance, how to become one with the beat and the soul of music, or maybe it was because Malia had saved her life – and she had saved hers. Or maybe it was because Malia knew a thing or two about being a monster. Or maybe it was because Malia was pretty with her short hair and blunt nails. Or maybe it was because Kira needed someone who wasn’t afraid to be vicious. Or maybe it was because their hands fit together perfectly.
Whatever it was… it was the reason why Kira stayed when Malia leaned forward, asking her for a kiss. It was the reason why she sighed and melted into the touch, Malia’s lips firm under her own. She tasted like fresh air and Mountain Dew, like adventure and the fast-food Stiles had gotten her addicted to in High School.
They kissed for an eternity. It was over in a matter of seconds.
Kira’s heart was trying to break free of her ribcage, her hands trembling when she sat up, looking at Malia as if she were seeing her for the first time. The woman opposite her hadn’t changed – but Kira felt as if she had.
“You’re dating Scott.”
It wasn’t what she wanted to say. She wanted to… to tell Malia how good it had felt, how nice it had been, how happy it had made her… but first… shame and guilt formed a ball inside her gut, whatever positive emotion she had just felt turning to dust when she remembered Scott.
How could she have forgotten Scott?
Malia’s eyes widened at her words, as if she had also forgotten her boyfriend of four years. And then…
“But he loves you. And you love him. It has to be okay.”
“No… Malia. This is cheating. My- his- our emotions- it doesn’t matter. If- he doesn’t know about this… then it’s cheating. And cheating is wrong.”
She felt like a child, who repeated words her teachers had taught her, without really understanding what she was actually saying. How could it be wrong when it had felt so right? Her heart was breaking, and yet… she still loved Scott. And kissing Malia… it had felt great.
“But Lydia sleeps with guys other than Stiles all the time. And it’s not cheating when they do it. They break the rules all the time – I think… I think we should be allowed to break them too.”
“What?”
Kira had the strong feeling that she had just lost the thread this conversation was trying to follow. Her fingers stopped where they had fidgeted with the hems of her Marvel’s Avenger leggings, her nervous energy peaking in… complete confusion.
She must have misheard, right?
Malia didn’t seem to think so, “Yes. Lydia and Stiles, they have- Stiles said they have an open relationship. They have sex with other people. He said something about emotional monogamy as well, but I think it’s bullshit. I think we would all be a lot happier, if- if I am allowed to kiss you and you can kiss Scott and-“
“You want me to kiss Scott?”
Kira’s thoughts were racing. She had just kissed her ex-boyfriend’s girlfriend – who was very naked, by the way – and now they were talking about Stiles and Lydia and… and Kira kissing Scott? What the hell was going on?
Kira was pretty sure that this wasn’t what Braeden had envisioned when she left her alone with Malia. Nobody could have foreseen this – except maybe Malia who had been thinking about this for some time, apparently.
“I mean… yes. If you want to. You smell as if you want to. Constantly. It’s honestly a bit distracting.”
Malia looked so unconcerned in the face of Kira kissing her boyfriend. If Kira wasn’t a jealous person, she had no idea what Malia was… possibly a saint.
“Can he smell it too?”, there were probably a dozen questions Kira should rather ask, but she could feel the shame cling to her soul at the reminder that all the weres in the pack could smell her emotions. And Kira had a lot of them. She was a very emotional person.
(she was also in love with Scott, and just knowing… just knowing that Scott could smell it on her skin… suddenly it made sense that Scott was no longer touching her, that he had stopped invading her space and started respecting boundaries that didn’t exist)
“Oh, probably. But Scott tries to respect people’s personal space by not smelling their emotions. Unless they’re Stiles. But that is just common sense.”
“Oh… freaking hell.”
They were mirroring each other, both of them sitting on the floor, one clothed in shame and comic merch, the other dressed in curiosity and an un-claimed fur coat. They were no longer touching, even though Kira craved it.
She could still taste Malia on her lips, could feel the firm press of her body against her own… but there was a chasm between them now, one Kira had created. On purpose. It was the right choice to stop Malia. It was the right thing to do.
With a sigh, she pushed a few strands of her out of her face, unsure what to do next. Should she ask Malia to leave? Should she forget this had happened? Should she tell Scott in an effort to be honest? Before she could decide on any of these rather flawed solutions, Malia spoke again, her voice smaller than it had been before.
“Scott smells like longing whenever he’s close to you.”
“What?”
“It’s not just you, Kira. Scott wants you. He- he loves you. And he wants to touch Stiles. And he- I think, he wants to kiss Isaac. But he won’t. He never will, because he is dating me, and we both know Scott will never be the person who breaks up with someone. And I… I like you. A lot. And I remember being in love with Stiles and I want that again… and maybe… maybe I am just selfish, but I don’t understand why it has to be so complicated.”
“Because it’s cheating.”
“Is it, really? What if we all want it? If we could have it… if we could have each other?”
Malia sounded almost desperate now, the lines on her face deeper than Kira had ever seen them before, and she had watched Malia struggle through the required Math credits the community college offered. It was a heartbreaking sight, and Kira wanted to nothing more than to reach out and breach the gap… but something stopped her. Maybe it was shame. Maybe it was the need to do the right thing… but she couldn’t offer Malia the absolution she so desperately craved.
“It’s cheating, Malia. Because right now… right now, it’s not all of us having each other. It’s the two of us kissing behind Scott’s back. Can you imagine how hurt he would be if he found out? We can’t- No, Malia. I’m sorry.”
Kira could feel the tears running down her cheeks, and she hated them. They made her feel weak. She wasn’t weak – she had living with the Skinwalkers for four years, had learned how to fight and meditate and be in control… but something about seeing Malia in pain broke her. She wanted to- she wanted to touch her face, soothe her hurt… but Kira was the one who had said no. She couldn’t be the one to comfort her as well.
“I’m sorry.”, Kira said again.
“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you without asking first. I shouldn’t have- forget what I said. Go back to being miserable and forget this ever happened.”
Malia’s words stung. They stung because they were true, even if they were unnecessarily mean. Yes, Malia should have asked first – because if Kira had even a moment to think before Malia’s lips stole the ability from her, she would have stopped this insanity before it happened. But Malia was also right when she said Kira should just continue being miserable – what else had she done before Malia came into the room to disrupt her evening? She had moped in front of the fire, feeling sorry for herself and missing people not even twenty feet away from her.
And now… Kira would continue telling her woes to the flames. Braeden had long ago gone to bed, sharing with Derek, since they seemed to be the only functioning couple in this entire pack (that wasn’t entirely true… Mason and Corey were perfectly happy, Ethan and Jackson moving in together last year in a small apartment in London – Liam seemed to eternally single, Hayden and Theo watching him from the sidelines).
“Sleep well, Malia.”
The words tasted like regret the moment she whispered them. Malia was still sitting opposite her – only now her eyes were dark in anger instead of lust. There was nothing elegant about her movements when she stood up.
“I will.”
And with that the werecoyote was gone.
Kira was alone again.
She had made the right choice.
She made the right- tears were tripping down onto the carpet, the taste of salt slowly replacing the silent promises Malia had left on her lips.
Kira had done what was right. It just sucked that it hurt so much.
Isaac was up to something, Derek was sure of it.
Derek certainly wasn’t Isaac’s closest confidant – their shared past rocky and turbulent and full of never-addressed hurt – but he knew the beta well enough. It was Saturday afternoon and Derek was soaking in the jacuzzi, Braeden and a sleeping Stiles by his side, as he watched Isaac vanish into the wine cellar of the cabin Mrs. Martin had rented for them.
There was no reason for the young man to go down there, just as there was no explanation for his shifty behavior all day.
It had started during breakfast – the tension eased somewhat by Lydia accidentally managing to explode pancake batter (she had grumbled about being a scientist failing chemistry so much, Malia had snorted coffee out of her nose) – when Isaac sat down next to Lydia, complimenting her messy bun and floral robe.
It had continued throughout the morning, with Isaac asking a miserable Stiles to play boardgames with him, and keeping Scott from joining in. During lunch the werewolf had started asking Kira questions about her classes at the community college, his eyes intensely focused on the young kitsune’s face (and something had happened with Kira as well – she smelled terrible underneath the coconut scent of her favorite body wash).
Isaac was up to something.
It was just… the jacuzzi was hot and comfortable and Derek could feel his body relax. Whatever it was the young man was getting up to… it couldn’t be important enough for Derek to leave his girlfriend and the hot water jets massaging his lower back.
He wasn’t the alpha anymore. That was now firmly Scott’s job (and he was a good alpha, just as Derek had predicted six years ago). Scott certainly had noticed something off as well if his concerned glances were anything to go by.
Then again… with all the pheromones stinking up the place it would be rather hard not to notice something wrong. It had started with Lydia and Stiles no longer talking, Stiles having a mental breakdown in a hotel bathroom, and Scott being horny, and it had accumulated in this: Kira stinking of shame and guilt, Malia bathing in anger, Stiles looking drawn out underneath that scraggly beard of his, and Scott being lost. Lydia acted as if nothing was wrong, but everyone could tell she was affected as well.
And Isaac… well, Isaac was certainly doing something.
Derek just hoped the kids would get their act together before the weekend was over. It would be a waste of money to spend a weekend at a place like this, only to be miserable the entire time. Braeden at least could ignore most of the drama, her nose blessedly human, but Derek was still waiting for the perfect moment to announce that Braeden and he had bought a small farm in Beacon Valley for them to renovate, and if the kids kept this misery act up, that moment would never present itself.
Derek toyed with the idea of opening a bookstore, something to spend his time with while Braeden was away fighting monsters and being awesome. He just- He wanted to settle down, and Braeden was a miracle of moving parts… the compromise had been to do both: buy a house for Derek to call home and give Braeden a place she could return to whenever her felt like hot water and a bed shared with her lover.
It might not be perfect, but it warmed his soul in a way not even the hot tub could.
But right now… their announcement would get lost in the stress of the interpersonal soap opera happening between these six members of Scott’s pack.
Isaac reappeared, dust in his hair, three bottles of wine in his hand. He was smiling. Fear cursed through Derek’s heart, his leg twitching as his fight or flight response was triggered. He got it under control before the shift could claim him, but he had certainly startled Stiles back into awareness. His flailing limbs and confused shouting created more of a commotion than Derek’s silent overreaction to Isaac’s (probably) diabolical plan.
“What? What’s happening? Who’s dying? Who’s dead? It was Mike from my intro in criminal justice class.”
Stiles’ words were almost indistinguishable, his heartbeat so loud and frantic it drowned out his words. Half his hair was wet, plastered against his skull, the other half wild and untamable, reaching for the sky. He looked like a crazy professor – a wet and rather young, crazy professor – and Derek couldn’t help himself… he laughed. Braeden was quick to follow, her throaty laughter the best thing Derek had heard all day, even as Stiles glared at them.
Stiles left the jacuzzi cursing him, only to reappear two minutes later with a towel wrapped around his thin frame. He was still glaring, but his heartbeat had calmed down, and there was the hint of a smile hidden on his face.
“Yes?”, asked Braeden when Stiles didn’t immediately speak.
“Isaac wants to see us all in the living room in twenty. The asshole looks as if he’s planning something.”
A shudder ran down Derek’s spine. His instincts had been right. Still, it probably wasn’t anything too bad. Maybe just a drinking game to heighten the team moral; Derek remembered the bottles of wine after all. He did his best to remain relaxed – he was laying in a damn jacuzzi, it shouldn’t be this hard.
“We’ll be there.”
If his voice was more growly than strictly necessary, neither Braeden nor Stiles commented on it. The young man just flipped him off, before turning around and vanishing back into the house. Braeden watched their exchange, her face unreadable when she slapped his naked chest.
“Hey!”, she reprimanded him.
“What?”
“These kids are twenty-two. You don’t have to act as if they are going to kill someone accidentally just because you don’t know what’s going on. Trust them – they are clever.”
“Sometimes I fear that that’s their downfall.”
She playfully slapped him again, her eyes darkening as they wandered over his beard and neck and chest, “So… does this mean we have fifteen minutes before anyone comes out and bothers us again?”.
“If I’m loud enough… maybe even the full twenty.”
It was hard to think about Isaac with Braeden’s lips pressing against his – so, he didn’t. He forgot himself in his girlfriend, the world falling away around him.
Derek had to have misunderstood something, right? Isaac couldn’t have just said that?
“Never Have I Ever, really? What are we? Sixteen?”, at least Stiles sounded just as exasperated as Derek felt.
They were all seated in the living room, the fire cackling even though it was the middle of summer. Still a little wet from the hot tub (Braeden and he didn’t have the time to shower before being called inside) Derek was actually grateful for the warmth – what he wasn’t grateful for was this room full of twenty-somethings asking him to play a High School drinking game with them.
“You heard me just fine. I have three bottles of wolfsbane laced red wine for the weres in the room, and two bottles of rum for Lydia, Kira, Braeden and you, Stiles. Everyone gets ten shots, and you have to drink if you did the thing. First one to drink all ten shots loses.”
Isaac had thought this through, that much was evident by the bottles in front of him, and the glasses spread all over the room. No one seemed really enamored with Isaac’s idea, Kira looking at the fire to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes, Lydia frowning as she took in the crowd in front of her. Malia on the other hand was staring at Kira, a figurative fire burning in her eyes.
There was static electrifying the air in the room. Derek wasn’t sure if it was Kira or just the suspense of eight people, who didn’t want to talk.
“And why would be play, Isaac? No one’s in the mood for some day drinking.”
Lydia’s voice cut through the tension like a steel blade, her makeup perfect like it only was on the days she was afraid to leave the bed, the face paint a literal mask to hide behind.
Derek ignored Malia’s mumbled “I’m in the mood for some day drinking” to focus on Scott instead. The alpha of their pack was looking at Isaac, something complicated happening on his usually so open face. His hair was unkempt, the shadows underneath his eyes deep – every single one of them looked older than their actual age. It wasn’t just this weekend, Derek was well aware, it was a life spent on a battlefield, the war they fought in since before they turned eighteen evident in the pre-mature creases around his eyes.
“Why do you want to do this with us, Isaac?”, Scott asked.
“Pack bonding. We’ve barely seen each other for four years. I know more about Mason’s favorite cereal and Liam’s cornflakes collection than I know about Lydia Martin and the elusive Braeden. Hell, I don’t even know her last name.”
“Because it’s classified.” Braeden’s wink startled a chuckle out of some of the occupants of the room, Isaac pointing at her as if she had just underlined his argument.
Which she had.
They had barely spent any time together those past few years, all of them busy with their own lives far away from Beacon Hills, desperate to grow into a different person ready to return to their hometown.
The prospect of pack bounding would also certainly appeal to-
“Okay. We’re doing this. Get your shots ready and everyone go fetch a glass of water. Hydration is important.” Scott’s words carried weight. He had used his alpha voice, making it impossible to deny him his wish.
They were going to play Never Have I Ever like a bunch of High Schoolers.
Derek had never felt his age more strongly than he did just now, Scott and Stiles and Lydia so young in comparison to him. They had survived horrible things, had led armies… and yet, they had barely finished college – hell, not even Lydia who had just finished her master’s was done yet.
The first two rounds were harmless, nobody really in the mood for the game (Never Have I Ever jumped out of a plane – really, Stiles? You couldn’t come up with anything better?), and then it was Isaac’s turn.
“Never Have I Ever kissed anyone sitting in this room.”
Derek feared his eyes would get stuck, he rolled his eyes so hard. He could hear Stiles cursing, Scott laughing at the clever stroke of genius his beta had just showcased. All of them had to drink. All of them except Isaac, of course.
“That’s unfair”, Stiles complained.
“Not really – I think this is actually how you’re supposed to play the game.”
Lydia was smiling as she said that, some color returning to her cheeks. The rum was getting to her, and it seemed to ease some of the tension living in her chest. It was her turn next, and Derek already feared what would come out of her mouth.
Her grin was downright evil when she said, “Never Have I Ever kissed someone of the same gender.”
Isaac took his shot silently, no emotion evident on his face or in his scent. Malia and Kira were a completely different story – Kira turned so red, Derek was slightly worried for her. Malia knocked her shot back as if it was a badge of honor (for her it probably was), while Stiles… well, Stiles was glaring at Lydia as he slowly sipped his rum.
Everyone turned around to stare at him.
“What?”, he sounded angry.
“Dude, you never said-“, Scott started, only to be interrupted by Stiles.
“Isaac also took a shot. Why is nobody staring at him?”
“He lived in France for, like, four years, Stiles, that’s just what the French do.”, Malia said, the duh in her voice louder than her actual words. Isaac nodded, agreeing with her point like the little shit Derek had always known he was.
“Come on, tell us. That’s the game.”
Why Braeden had to stoke the figurative fire, Derek wasn’t quite sure off, but it probably had to do with the fact that she was a horrible adrenaline junkie and a fan of chaos and mayhem.
“Okay, okay, okay. It’s nothing earth shattering. His name was Patrick, he was taller than me, and he was a good kisser. Happy? It’s Kira’s turn next.”
“When-“, Scott started again.
“It’s Kira’s turn now.”, repeated Stiles. Forcefully.
“Uh, well… um, you know… with the Skinwalkers? There isn’t much to do in the desert… so, um…”
She was stumbling over her words, her heartbeat fast and irregular. She was lying. Why was she lying? Everyone knew she had made out with the Skinwalkers, hell, yesterday Kira had told a story about it out of her own free will. Had something happened since then?
“No, I meant, it’s your turn to say what you haven’t done…”, Stiles sounded confused when he looked at her, and if possible, Kira’s blush deepened.
“Yeah. Sure. Of course. I knew that. Um… well… Never Have I Ever… um… had sex with someone of the same gender.”
For a single moment the room held its breath before Stiles cursed and took another shot. All eyes were on him, and this time nobody had to ask him before he mumbled, “While I think this is cheating on Kira’s part… his name was Jacob, he had great hair, and he was very nice.”
“When?”, Scott asked, and this time Stiles answered.
“I don’t know, man. Two years ago? Three years ago? It doesn’t matter.”
Derek tried to be subtle as he glanced at Lydia, but she seemed unconcerned by Stiles’ admission. They were dating when this happened. They were dating – and Lydia didn’t care. No, Lydia had already known. Malia didn’t look all that surprised either, Kira’s eyes following Lydia’s every reaction as if it could tell her something, maybe the secrets of the universe.
In the commotion around Stiles nobody had noticed that Isaac had taken a shot as well, Braeden following him swiftly.
“Braeden?”, his own voice sounded higher than usual, but it was truly just surprise that colored it that shocked. She hadn’t taken a drink when the question had been about kissing.
There was a smile on her lips when she answered, “Maddison, during the Kentucky State Fair six years ago. It was a fun time. Not for me, but fun”, imitating Stiles’ clipped tone as if to mock him.
“And the kissing?”
“Kissing is for romance, dumbass.”
She said it as if it was obvious, her grin warming his insides. She had kissed him that very first time they had slept together. She had kissed him before Derek had known she was the one for him. Sometimes it was overwhelming to know that one person could love him that much – right now it was freeing.
“Well, it’s my turn now. Never Have I Ever died.”
Malia’s voice was blunt, her grin razor-sharp.
“Does-“, Lydia started.
“Yes. Your temporary death after Eichen House counts. So does the Ice Bath, Stiles. And you’re fifteen minutes of death, Scott. Derek – I don’t have to remind you, do I?”
She said it so easily, but Derek could see the tension running underneath. All of them… it was horrible to think what all of them had already survived (how many of them hadn’t reached this point, this age, this cabin).
“We live pretty fucked up lives, huh.”, Kira said as the others took a drink.
Derek couldn’t help himself, he chuckled through the burn of the wine. It was a very concise statement, but it was true. Their lives were pretty fucked up. High School had been the worst of it for Scott and the others, but Derek knew that it still wasn’t over yet. Probably never would be. At least not entirely.
Which was why they needed weekends like this, far away from everything.
Which was why they needed each other – even if they sucked at recognizing it.
Scott’s face was carefully empty as he looked at them, as if he was trying to burn their faces into his memory, making sure he could never forget them. His eyes glowed red when he raised his glass, his voice deep and full of power.
“For Allison. For all of those who can’t be here tonight.”
Nobody complained over the wasted shots, as they drank one for the fallen ones. There were so many of them (Boyd and Erica would always follow him, whisper into his ear at night, becoming one with the voices of his family) and sometimes it was hard to accept happiness because of that… but they were the lucky ones. They were the survivors.
They owed it to their friends to keep on surviving.
The mood shifted, but Derek couldn’t quite grasp how everyone else was feeling. The wolfbane burned his nose, making it impossible to pinpoint exact emotions. Stiles’ cheeks were flushed from the alcohol, something dark burning behind his eyes, Kira swaying where she sat, a sad smile on her face. Scott and Isaac were leaning back, their eyes heavy, and Lydia kept her back straight as if to counteract the effects the rum had on her.
Only Malia looked perfectly alright, her eyes finding Braeden after minutes spent in silence.
“It’s your turn. You’re next.”
Braeden nodded, her eyes searching the faces of the people in the room with her.
“Never Have I Ever had a crush on anyone in this room besides my current partner.”
A groan rippled through the masses as all of them except Lydia (and him) took a drink. Derek wasn’t sure if it was the nature of the game, or the way this afternoon felt, but everyone – expect Malia – stuck to dumb teenage questions, asking about feelings and kisses and dirty little secrets.
It was weird – and weirdly freeing.
Only Isaac probably felt a little different now, Scott and Malia staring at him and his empty shot glass as if it had committed a crime.
“Who?”, Malia asked, like a predator on the hunt. It was as if she knew who the answer was but wasn’t allowed to say it herself.
“Lydia. She might even remember – Scott and Stiles definitely do – but back in freshman year I had a crush on her. Asked her out in front of our entire English class. She destroyed me.”
He was lying. And everyone in the room with supernatural hearing could tell. Derek had no idea why he would do that, but Malia seemed satisfied with his answer, leaning back against the chair she had abandoned at some point to sit on the floor.
Scott seemed less satisfied. Derek wasn’t paid enough to try and figure out what the hell was going on. Instead, he waited for Scott to take his turn. It was getting warm, the fire drying his hair, the amount of people draining his social batteries.
“Never Have I Ever stalked someone.”
“Scotty, you’re supposed to say things you haven’t done.”, intercepted Stiles, the two of them incapable of leaving each other alone.
“I haven’t!”
“Oh, I remember how you were with Allison in the beginning. Listening in to her conversations, asking her questions you already knew the answer to, sneaking into her room while she was gone---”, Stiles sounded troubled, something ugly hidden in his joking tone of voice.
“All of that was either due to my newfound werewolf-ness, or the fact that we were hunting down Peter… or, well, I guess we still thought it was Derek back then.”
Scott shot an apologetic look in Derek’s direction, even if the matter at hand had long ago been forgiven. They all made mistakes back then. Some more than others – Derek tried to ignore the guilt in his stomach.
Stiles and Scott were squabbling by now, the pair only a few moments away from starting a tickle war – and they were grown men by now, acting like absolute children – when Lydia interrupted them:
“I’ll allow it. Scott was a bad werewolf back then, not in control of his powers. Derek on the other hand… freely admitted to one or two stalking sessions. Braeden?”
“I’ll drink too.”, his girlfriend easily agreed.
As he downed his shot, Derek watched as Stiles kicked Scott, only for their alpha to return the gesture, motioning for Stiles to take a drink. At least Scott seemed to remember awkward sophomore Stiles mooning after Lydia with a focus that bordered on downright creepy.
If Derek didn’t know any better, he would say Stiles and Scott were soulmates.
“Whose turn is it now, anyways?”, Kira asked.
Her body had melted into the armchair, every muscle relaxed. She really couldn’t hold her liquor.
“I think it’s Stiles again?”, answered Isaac.
To be completely honest, Derek wasn’t quite sure either. The wine was starting to hit – or better yet, the wolfsbane mixed into the wine was starting to hit. He really hoped Isaac had asked Deaton before mixing their drinks. If not, half of them would be pretty dead, pretty soon. Not the best way to celebrate a master’s degree.
Something complicated was happening behind Stiles’ eyes, the alcohol evident in the way he swayed and blinked and swallowed.
“Never Have I Ever… Never Have I Ever broken someone’s heart…”, Stiles’ voice trailed off, his gaze locked on Lydia’s face. He was staring at her, his expression open and hurt.
(all of them had noticed how Lydia had ignored him for the past two days)
He had broken the unspoken rule. He had- there was nothing light in the air anymore, only Isaac’s sharp intake of breath audible.
Lydia was silent. Lydia was still.
“That’s not true. You broke my heart first.”
It wasn’t Lydia who had spoken. It was Malia. She didn’t look angry or particularly sad, but she looked decisive, as if it was something she had to say.
Derek could feel the mood sour further.
“I also remember Erica telling you that you broke hers, back when none of us were special, yet.”, Isaac said.
Derek didn’t dare take a breath, scared to shatter the tension building in the room. He had thought dinner last night had been suspenseful, but it was nothing compared to this.
“And Lydia broke yours, Isaac, right? That’s what you said, wasn’t it? And Scott is breaking Kira’s every day he doesn’t look at her. Maybe I am nothing special. Maybe I just thought we should mix it up a bit.”
Stiles’ smile could only be described as sardonic, cruel, broken, pained. It was the face of a man who trusted no one, who had turned paranoia into his best friend. His hand was steady as he downed another shot of rum, the light of the fire highlighting the sharp cut of his jaw, the deep bruises underneath his eyes.
It was easy to forget how tired they all were. How broken, even though that was a word, Derek didn’t particularly like. They weren’t broken… they were young adults who had survived horrendous things, who watched their friends die and did everything they could to survive. If they were broken, Derek was a pile of shattered glass… and he didn’t want to see himself as such. Not anymore.
And Stiles wasn’t the only one who lived through a war and changed. Lydia was nothing short of cruel when she spit, “Well, I might have broken a heart or two, but at least I’ve never cheated before.”
Derek wasn’t the only one who noticed Kira’s full body flinch, or Malia’s wide eyes. Not that they had time to say anything before Stiles answered Lydia, anger evident in his voice.
“Oh? And when have I? At least I never kissed your best friend just to hurt someone I love. All I did was respect your fucking boundaries.”
“Respect my boundaries? Is that what we’re calling it?”
Lydia pushed herself up from the armchair she had previously inhabited, anger pulsating through her 5’2” frame. It made her appear taller, more fearsome. Stiles didn’t flinch (but Derek wanted to).
“Yes. That’s what I’m calling it. You said ‘Stiles, let’s fuck other people’ and I said ‘sure’. And then you said ‘But don’t tell anyone. And don’t develop feelings’ and I went, and I respected your rules. And-“
“Um, guys- maybe you want to take a deep breath and-“, Scott began, the young man raising from his seat with his hands raised in a placating gesture.
“Shut up, Scott. This has nothing to do with you.”, spit Stiles.
Maybe Stiles should have thought of that before he started airing Lydia’s and his dirty laundry in a room full of their friends. From what Derek could tell everyone was extremely uncomfortable, Scott the only one brave enough to intervene.
“Oh? That’s news to me! From where I stand, Scott has everything to do with this!”
“Lydia, wha-?”, but Stiles’ confusion came too late. Lydia steamrolled over him, her voice shrill, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.
It was a frightening sight.
Lydia Martin didn’t cry.
“You’re in love with Scott, Stiles. And I get it, he’s perfect. He’s the alpha. Everyone wants to fuck him- well, not everyone. I just want you. I just- I just wanted you. And you went and fell in love with other people.”
Absolute silence washed over the occupants of the room like a prison sentence. You could hear the distinct rise and fall of eight chests, six of them beating in a rhythm that could only be described as panicked.
Derek didn’t have to concentrate to know which hearts were still beating steady. Braeden’s and his. His and Braeden’s. Everyone else was very close to losing their shit.
“What? Lydia… I love you. I don’t- what?”
Everyone could hear the truth in Stiles’ voice – you didn’t have to be a supernatural creature to know that Stiles Stilinski was in love with Lydia Martin. It was one of the facts of the universe.
And yet, it didn’t seem to be enough.
“But you love him as well. And you- don’t think I don’t see the way you look at Malia. I know I’m not enough. I know- but… you aren’t the only one hurting here, Stiles.”
One last fiery glare in his direction, and Lydia left the room before her sadness could run down her face and destroy her battle armor. Stiles was left behind, his mouth slightly parted as if to say something, his scent sour with confusion and pain, pain, pain.
“But why does anyone have to be hurting?”, Stiles whispered into the silence before seemingly shutting down, his head buried in his hands, his shoulders hunched defensively.
Derek’s eyes met Scott’s over Stiles’ body, the young alpha lost and hesitant in a way Derek hadn’t seen him since before their last battle with Monroe. The silence was stifling, Braeden next to him calm in a way that told Derek she was prepared for the worst.
The worst came in the form of Kira, her shoulders hunched, her cheeks red with shame:
“Malia and I made out with each other. We-we kissed. Behind your back. I am so sorry, Scott. I didn’t mean- I didn’t do it on purpose. I really-“
Incredulous laughter escaped Isaac, Malia glaring at the girl she had apparently kissed with distain. Derek could smell the distress coming from Scott, the emotions spiking in the face of this… this mess.
Almost sardonically Scott turned around, looking every single one of them in the eyes, before proclaiming, “And? Is there anything else I should know? Since no one here seems to be capable of healthy communication”.
Both Braeden and Derek shook their heads, but they were the only ones. Isaac straightened, and he almost looked sorry when he said “I came back to Beacon Hills because you asked. And because- because I had a crush on you since you saved my life in sophomore year”.
“I was heartbroken when I found out you were dating Malia… because I like both of you.”, offered Kira.
“I don’t think I want to kiss you anymore. Or at least… I don’t want to kiss just you.”, said Malia.
“Fuck this shit.”, proclaimed Stiles, who stank of depression and hatred and a thousand unspoken cruelties.
Derek couldn’t agree more.
Scott had found the pond half an hour ago, after he wandered into the woods to escape the tense silence holding the cabin hostage. It was silent out here in the way only forests could be. Scott could hear birds defending their nests, mice and other small rodents scurrying through the shrubbery, a herd of deer dashing through a clearing half a mile away. Wind was playing with the leaves of the trees painting the forest green, and the water in front of him lapped against the shore with a soothing little splash every time he took a breath.
It was peaceful.
It would be peaceful if his head could stop spinning.
The sun was slowly sinking beneath the horizon, the world turning gold at the edges. Their afternoon drinking game felt hours away, but Scott knew that the silence had barely bathed the room in awkwardness before he fled out here to sort through his head.
Kira had kissed Malia. Malia had kissed Kira. His girlfriend had kissed his ex-girlfriend. His- Well, his beta had returned to Beacon Hills for him. Not for his alpha status, but because Isaac was in love with him. It was a weird thought, and yet… Scott was well aware Isaac meant a lot to him, that his name was synonymous with warmth whenever it spilled over his lips, that what he felt for Isaac wasn’t always as platonic as he wanted to pretend it was.
And Stiles…
Scott couldn’t even think about it.
It had hurt to see Lydia brush Stiles off during lunch yesterday, but it had been downright weird when she decided that Scott and Stiles would share a room here at the cabin. Malia hadn’t even cared – and now Scott knew why.
Still, Scott couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he didn’t have all the puzzle pieces. Not when Isaac still watched them with rapt attention whenever someone moved, not with Malia asking pointed questions without shame, not with Kira hiding her embarrassment behind a smile.
He was the alpha – but for some reason he was the person who had been left out of the loop.
He didn’t flinch when Derek sat down next to him. He had heard the beta leave the house, his steps intentionally loud enough for Scott to hear. Werewolf hearing did have its perks every now and then. They were silent for a long moment, Scott’s gaze focused on the wet stones underneath his feet, the water a gentle giant brushing against them with every gust of wind moving the surface of the pond.
“I’m a bad alpha.”, Scott finally said.
Derek was the one person he could admit it to. The older man had been his enemy, mentor, ally, adversary, friend – but Derek had only joined his pack out of a formality, because pack meant family, pack meant safety, not because he was inadvertently bound to Scott. Scott wasn’t someone Derek looked up to – Derek respected him, just as Scott respected him, but there was a distance between them that allowed for honesty in a way his relationship with Kira or Malia or Stiles didn’t.
Maybe that was part of the problem.
“No, you’re not. You got blindsided, but that happens to the best of us.”, Derek’s voice was deep, but relaxed. The complete opposite to how Scott currently felt.
“Yes, I am. I didn’t- Stiles is my best friend and I didn’t know half the things he admitted to during that stupid game. Kira- I mean, Kira and Malia kissed, for Christ’s sake! I had no idea… and Lydia? Something is going on with her, and… and I have no idea how to fix it.”
“And you’re twenty-two and just one person. You can’t know everything, Scott. It’s not your responsibility to fix all their problems.”
“But they’re my pack. Isaac was right… we are so busy fighting and dying for each other… we barely know each other anymore. When do we talk? Half our video calls are war rooms, the group chat a mix of memes and cries for help.”
Scott felt tired. He was twenty-two. He was a True Alpha. He was a general in a war he didn’t want to be a soldier in. He was a student on his way to become a vet. He was a friend and a boyfriend. He was… he was just one person, carrying the weight of the world and the lives of his friends.
Derek’s hand on his shoulder was a surprise. Derek wasn’t known for being good at comforting others, though Scott had learned that he loved touch in the years since he finished High School. It was rare for Derek to reach out first – and Scott was grateful for it, leaning into the point of contact. He needed the support.
“Maybe. Maybe Isaac is right. You guys need to talk. You aren’t seventeen anymore. You’ve grown up. You will grow up even more in the years to come. But- Scott, that doesn’t mean you’re a bad alpha. It just… it means you need weekends like this. You need...”
Derek stopped, as if he was searching for words. Scott let him. He tried to listen to Derek, to accept his words as the truth… but Kira’s shame-red cheeks haunted him, the pain in Stiles’ face as he hugged him in the bathroom of the Ritz seared into his memories.
“You need to get to know each other again”, Derek finally concluded.
“What?”
“You- you drifted apart. It’s not a bad thing. We all had to get out of Beacon Hills. But… we all changed in our time away. I changed. And I know for a fact that you changed as well.”
Derek’s words forced Scott to turn around, his eyes finding the man besides him just as the sun finally disappeared behind the trees, shadows highlighting the years of experience etched into Derek’s face. Derek had truly changed in the years since Scott first accused him of murder. Gone was the sourly twenty-something grieving his family through violence and acts of power… instead, Derek had grown into a man happy to spend time with him, content with the life and girlfriend he had.
Scott wanted that as well.
“What do you mean?”, he asked, even though he knew in his soul what it was Derek was trying to tell him.
“Kira’s not the same girl who had to leave to train with the Skinwalkers, just as Isaac is no longer the scared boy escaping to France. Lydia grew up at Cambridge, and Stiles… we all changed fighting this war. And that’s okay – take the time to get to know each other again.”
Scott knew that Derek was telling the truth. Liam, Mason, Corey, Hayden, Alec, and Theo had also changed in the years since Scott left for college, but it was easier to accept their growth than it was to look at Stiles and not recognize the person looking back at him.
“When did you become so wise? I faintly remember you pushing Malia into a lake not even three years ago because she asked you about your feelings.”
“I did some soul searching. Braeden helped. Spending some time with Cora helped. Keeping in touch with you guys helped. Not being an alpha… made it possible in the first place.”, Derek’s smile was rueful, and Scott remembered the times their relationship had been different – back when Scott was an unruly omega denying Derek every step of the way, and Derek was a grieving alpha, unable to smile at all.
“I- I’m just so confused. Scared. I should- I should have noticed something was off.”
“But you did. We all did. We just thought… we just thought all the little signs were things we hadn’t notice change. We were afraid of interfering – because what if we were wrong. What if this proved that we knew each other even less than we first anticipated.”
Scott could hear the truth in Derek’s words, his own heart aching at the thought. What if he truly didn’t know Lydia anymore? Isaac? Kira? What if Stiles was someone besides his best friend? It hurt just to think about it.
“So… what next?”
“You talk. You get to know each other again. You relearn how to trust each other. Scott… all of you obviously care about each other. It’s going to be alright.”
Derek’s eyes were full of comfort, the older man offering something Scott desperately needed: companionship and a shoulder to lean on. Scott had text conversations with every member of his pack regularly, but Derek was someone who rarely responded with more than a “I’m alive” when Scott asked him how he was doing.
It was nice to have him here. His teenage self would be shocked to hear it, but Scott was glad Derek was a part of his life.
“That’s enough about me and my problems… how are you, Derek? Last I heard you and Braeden had found one of Monroe’s generals in Nunavut?”
“That was months ago. Yeah, we’re- we’re good.”, Derek was biting his lip, a tick he must have picked up while he traveled the world with his girlfriend. It was obviously a nervous tell, but after their conversation Scott didn’t have the strength to be worried about it.
Derek would tell him, if only to show Scott how it was done.
“I’m happy to hear that. You should call more often. Whenever I try to start a conversation you text like an old man, who doesn’t know how to use a phone.”, Scott said, a grin replacing his ever-present frown.
“Hey! I know how to use a phone – last week Liam sent me a funny picture and I responded with the right emoji.”
The mischievous glint in Derek’s eyes startled a laugh out of Scott. It was easy to forget that Derek was quite funny – as dry as his humor might occasionally be.
“But… for real, how are you?”, asked Scott.
“Yeah, I wanted- Braeden and I were waiting for the right opportunity to mention it… but we bought a house in Beacon Valley. Calling won’t be a problem anymore, if I can just drop by at your place and scare the shit out of you.”
Shock forced Scott to remain silent. Derek would return to Beacon County. Derek would come home, and he would bring Braeden with him (even if Scott was sure the elusive mercenary wouldn’t be a permanent resident). The alpha inside of him preened at the news – one of his own was coming home, coming back. The human inside of him was simply glad one of his best friends was joining him back in their town.
Their town.
Beacon Hills belonged to all of them. It had buried its roots in their souls, had claimed parts of their bodies, hearts, minds. Their blood colored the earth red, and their bodies would protect what they had created until they no longer could.
“I am- wow! That’s great news! That’s- that’s honestly amazing! I’m so happy for you. Both of you.”
Now it was Scott who initiated the contact, pulling Derek into a one-armed hug the other man welcomed with an openness unimaginable even two years ago. For a moment they simply breathed like that, Derek’s touch grounding Scott, Scott’s hug offering support to Derek. It was nice.
It was almost painful to pull away, but Scott knew he had to do it. He was the alpha, and they only had one more day to fix this mess four years of failed communication had forced them into. Derek was right. They had to tell each other the truth. Now Scott just had to find a way for all of them to actually do it.
“I think it’s time for me to go back inside and face the music.”
His smile was rueful as he forced himself to stand up, the soles of his feet wet where they had rested against the shore of the small pond. Derek remained seated, staring out into the wilderness, his eyes glowing blue in the pale light of the fleeting dusk.
“You good?”, Scott asked.
“Yeah. I just… I think I’m going for a run. Stretch my legs a little. All four of them.”
Scott watched as Derek shed his human clothes and skin, and changed into the form truest to his soul. The wolf was large, his black fur soft. They held eye contact for a moment, and then Derek turned around, vanishing into the forest as if he was born for it. He was. This was his legacy. Scott was his alpha.
Now it was time to face the rest of his pack as well.
Lydia was the only person in the kitchen when Scott entered the cabin through the back entrance. The soft lighting highlighted the paleness of her cheeks and the redness of her eyes, and yet Scott couldn’t ignore the fire in the set of her mouth, the iron will keeping her back straight.
They held eye contact for an uncomfortably long amount of time, Scott frozen where he had bend down to clean his feet, Lydia still, the cup of coffee in her hand forgotten. It wasn’t a conscious choice to scent the air, but Scott did it anyways. Lydia smelled tired, distressed, sorrowful. No surprise there.
What was surprising, though, was that Lydia was the one who broke the tension first.
“I’m sorry.”
Her voice sounded rough, a decade of pain added to her hollow cheeks and painted lips.
“Why? Or- or for what?”
It was probably the wrong question, but Scott wasn’t quite sure what else he was supposed to say. Just because he knew all of them had to talk, didn’t mean Scott knew how to do it. Lydia had always been special – they worked well together, they were good friends, they had shared many secrets and yet… Lydia had always been Allison’s best friend, Stiles’ girlfriend, Malia’s buddy.
She was one of the people he trusted the most, and yet… had he ever truly known her? He knew Lydia the banshee… but what about Lydia Martin, queen of Beacon Hills, master’s of theoretical mathematics from MIT?
“I shouldn’t- I got caught up in my head. Thought I could solve it all on my own. I just-“
“Yes?”
“You know… Allison always said I had a serious problem when it came to asking for help. Or facing my own insecurities. She was right, of course, not that she had any room to talk. But- I think, I think that’s what happened here.”
She wasn’t looking at him as she said that. It was as if she thought saying Allison’s name in his presence would break some sort of sacrilege… but maybe that was a sin all of them were guilty off. All Scott ever wanted to do was remember the first love of his life – but all he ever did was whisper her name in the dead of night out of fear he’d hurt someone’s feelings.
“Alli was always better at forcing others to face their fears than she was as confronting her own demons. She was working on it, though. That’s what made her a good leader. That’s what- we owe it to her to do the same.”
Scott was well aware what he was asking from Lydia and judging by the glare she sent in his direction so was she. And yet- she didn’t cry, she didn’t break, she simply… she gave him what he’d asked for.
“I… I was very alone while I was in Cambridge. So alone, that I got used to- to doing things the way I did before I had you guys. And- and I… Stiles and I… I love him, but… I got it in my head that I wouldn’t be enough for him. And- and there was no Allison to knock some sense back into my head, no Kira or Malia or Derek to tell me to get over myself and just talk to him. There was just me… and people who I called friends but aren’t pack.”
Scott nodded as he heard her words. It made sense. Ever since their pack had solidified, it became harder and harder to create close friendships outside of their tight-knit group. Scott had lap partners and roommates and acquaintances, but all his close friends were pack. The only difference was that Scott lived three hours away from Beacon Hills, and Lydia had conquered a different part of the country.
She was alone, Stiles the person closest to her, geographically and emotionally.
(and one person would never – should never – be enough to carry the weight and responsibility of another person’s heart)
Slowly Scott stood up, his eyes never leaving Lydia’s small form. She was clutching her coffee cup as if it were a lifeline, her thin dress unable to hide the goosebumps trailing down her arms. He didn’t want to see her small – he just wanted the truth.
“It’s okay, Lydia. It’s okay.”
“But it’s not. It’s not. I just- I got used to making choices for him, instead of with him. With you guys. And- I know he likes you. And I know he isn’t over Malia. And… and I also know if I hadn’t done anything, Stiles would never have acted on these feelings. Ever. Because he loves me too much to betray me like that. So-“
“So, you decided to make the choice for him, pushing him away and into my ‘waiting’ arms.”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
Her green eyes were clouded over, far away and so full of sadness. It hurt Scott to see her like this – the proud and mighty Lydia Martin beaten down – and yet… a part of him was angry. They weren’t teenagers anymore; they were supposed to be better than this.
“Lydia…”
“I know. I’m sorry. I don’t- I can’t lose him. I can’t lose you. I just- I just… I was so scared.”
And now the tears were falling. Scott had never crossed a room faster, pulling Lydia into his arms before the first tear could touch the edge of her beautiful mouth. She barely brushed against his chin – she wasn’t wearing heels, her body so small Scott feared he would break her should he tighten his grip.
Lydia Martin was a warrior, but she was also human. She needed others, and for too long… Scott had forgotten that her makeup was her suit of armor, her heels and dresses power tools. Behind her strong exterior… Lydia was a strong person, but someone who needed help. Occasionally. Every now and then.
She needed someone to hug her. She needed her pack.
“I love you, you know that, right?”, he whispered, knowing that his words would reach her, cascading down her strawberry-blonde hair right into her heart.
“I know that. I really, really know that. It’s just… it was so easy to forget what pack feels like while I was busy pretending to be normal sitting in my lecture hall.”
“Yeah – and I only ever visited you once. We all- we all kinda dropped the ball here. But I’m going to fix it. I promise you… I promise you; I am going to fix this.”
This wasn’t a promise lightly made. This was something Scott meant. He had to fix this. Because he wanted his best friend back (who apparently wanted to kiss him), and he wanted Kira back (who had changed so much Scott couldn’t wait and see who she had become), and he needed Isaac (who had come back for him, him, him) and… and he needed to talk to Malia (something they had stopped doing at some point without Scott even noticing).
But first he had to make sure Lydia was alright.
“I’m here for you, Lydia. I will always be there for you.”
Her only response was to hug him tighter.
The beginnings of an idea began to form at the back of his mind as he went back upstairs to change into cleaner clothes. Hoodies with streaks of dirt on them rarely benefited his charisma. Lydia had wrinkled her nose at his stench when she was finally calm enough to let go off him. Scott didn’t even want to know how badly he smelled for werewolf noses if that was the response he got from his mostly human pack member.
Isaac’s idea was still circling through his head when he opened the door to the room he shared with Stiles only to find Malia sitting on his bed. It shouldn’t be a surprising sight, they had been dating for four years now after all, but Scott startled nevertheless.
“Um… hi.”
“Hi.”
Her entire focus was directed at him, something Scott had always found a bit scary. Malia was an intense person, and whenever she looked directly at him, Scott knew he was seen. It used to be comforting – right now it was slightly unsettling.
“What are- I was about to go and take a shower.”
“Good. You need it. You stink.”, not even two months ago, Malia would have offered to take the shower with him, wiggling her eyebrows to underline the innuendo. Now she simply sat there and stared at him.
“Why are you here?”, Scott finally asked.
“Because we need to talk. Because I’m bad at it. Because… because I kissed Kira and she let me.”
Scott tried (and failed) not to let the hurt show on his face. He knew this, of course. Kira had told him. But… it still hurt. It hurt, even though Kira had told him she still loved him, even though he knew they all cared deeply for him.
His silence must have spoken for him because Malia continued without waiting for an answer.
“And… Kira said it was wrong for me to kiss her, even if we both wanted it because… because you didn’t know. That it was cheating. And I don’t- I don’t want to cheat on you, Scott. I like you. A lot. I just… I just like her as well. And I like Stiles. And I want to kiss Isaac and find out what it feels like to touch his curls.”
“Malia…”
“This is me… I don’t know. I wanted to say ‘this is me asking for your permission’ but it’s not, is it? Because I am my own person. You can’t forbid me from doing anything. You can only decide how you respond to my actions. And it’s only fair you know what my actions are. So. Yes. I kissed Kira. And I want to do it again.”
This was a lot to swallow. For a moment Scott felt as if he was drowning – but that wasn’t quite true, was it? Scott knew exactly what drowning felt like, and this wasn’t it. The act of drowning was agony mixed with helplessness combined with the knowledge that you would die the moment you inhaled. This was… this was a heavy pain, his throat shrinking like it did during an asthma attack. Inhaling wouldn’t kill him, no, Scott had the strong suspicion that it would feel like freedom the moment he managed to pull some air back into his lungs.
“And do you want to kiss me?”, even his voice sounded airy. He could breathe – but he also couldn’t.
“Yes. Maybe. I’m trying to figure it out. I just… I had to tell you. Because I like you. And I want all of us to come back home. And I- I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
Malia pushed herself up from the bed, leaving before Scott had even the slightest chance to figure out how to respond. But maybe he didn’t have to. His chest was heaving – but his mind had finally calmed down.
He had an idea.
There were certain sacrifices that had to be made when you were human in the midst of monsters. Stiles had learned that early on, when he sacrificed his relationship with his dad for Scott’s secret. He learned it when his grades dropped, and his mental health suffered. He finally, really, truly understood it when the Nogitsune sneaked in past his defenses and started killing people using his hands.
Stiles knew how sacrifices worked. No, worse… he would do it all over again. Maybe not all of it, maybe he would try to change certain things… but there wasn’t a single chance in hell Stiles wouldn’t give his life for Scott’s. Lydia’s. His dad’s. Malia’s. Hell, even Derek’s.
Which was probably why he didn’t immediately flee the room when Scott proposed another game of truths after the first one had ended oh, so well.
“We need to be honest with each other. Brutally honest… or maybe not brutally, but… Trust. It’s all about trust. We need to learn how to trust each other again… by being honest. By opening up. Because… I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we kinda suck at it.”
Scott was clearly embarrassed as he announced his amazing idea. He tried to make eye contact with every person in the room – Stiles had no idea where Derek was, but Braeden had elegantly excused herself when Scott barged into the living room – but Stiles could see that he wasn’t the only one evading Scott’s searching gaze.
“Honest how?”, of course it was Isaac who asked. The guy probably thought this would be a great continuation of the clusterfuck that had been Never Have I Ever.
Most of the alcohol had left Stiles’ system, leaving only a slight headache and immeasurable shame in its wake. He was the one who made it awkward after all. He was the one who fucked up (he was always the one who fucked up).
“Honest about our feelings. Secrets. Things we never really told anyone. Or maybe just things we’re ashamed off. Things we’d rather keep hidden. They- they don’t have to be big. I just… we need to start somewhere. I need us to start somewhere.”
There was honest despair coloring Scott’s voice sad, and Stiles could feel the guilt trying to swallow him whole. His fault. His fault. His fault. He had been the one to accuse Lydia drunkenly of something she hadn’t done (yet). He had been the one who was too messed up to- No. Not going there.
Lydia was sitting next to him, and this close Stiles could see that she had cried earlier. It was late at night, but her makeup was still perfect. She must have touched it up before coming in here. He wanted to reach out, touch her hand, kiss her pain away… but he was no longer sure if he was allowed to do that.
“Okay.”, unsurprisingly it was Malia who answered first. She looked decisive, as if she had waited for an opportunity like this her entire life. Or maybe just the entire weekend.
Isaac was quick to agree, even if his cheeks were red and his eyes golden. Kira hesitated and for a moment Stiles dared to hope that she would say no and then she nodded as well, leaving only…
“I’ll do it. Complete honesty. Nothing we say leaves this room unless otherwise requested.”
Lydia. Her voice was calm, her face relaxed. Stiles would have expected her to be more hesitant, but she looked ready for whatever was about to come. She looked like the warrior queen Stiles had always known her to be.
That left only him.
He didn’t feel ready. He felt panicked, his heart a jackhammer in his chest. And yet… he couldn’t be the one to deny Scott this. Not after he had already messed up so badly.
“Sure. Let’s do it.”
He didn’t have to see Malia’s concerned glance, or Isaac’s raised eyebrow to know he smelled like shit. He just needed the grateful nod Scott sent in his direction – he could do this (even if it didn’t feel like it).
Silence descended over the room now that the decision had been made. Stiles watched as Kira fiddled with the hem of her skirt, Isaac biting his lip as if to keep himself from saying something. Scott was the only one left standing, his hands rubbing together while he awkwardly tried to figure out what to say next.
Malia had once again chosen the floor to sit on, and her eyes followed every small move Scott made, until she finally cracked and snapped, “Sit down, Scott. You’re making me nervous”. Scott fell into the armchair behind him as if his strings had been cut.
“Okay. Okay… I guess, I’ll start. It’s only fair. Um…”, his eyes focused on one of the deer skulls hanging on the wall above the fireplace (Stiles thought he heard Kira mumble “Bumblebee” under her breath but chose to ignore it), his voice hesitant even as he tried to appear strong, “I guess, my secret’s not much of one, but… I don’t think I’m a good alpha. Sometimes- sometimes I think I can do this, and then something like this happens and I realize… I dropped the ball. I messed up. I’m not- I’m not alpha material. I’m just some dude, trying to keep his friends alive. Failing to keep his friends alive.”
Stiles wanted to protest, wanted to jump up from his seat to tell Scott just how wrong he was, but Lydia stopped him before he could do much more than tense in anticipation. She had simply raised her hand, but the power behind that simple movement was enough to not only stop Stiles in his track but Malia, Kira, and Isaac as well.
“No. If this is supposed to work… then we need to let each other speak. We need to- to acknowledge each other’s fears and secrets and truths. We can’t just- just drown each other in comfort and then leave this room thinking everything is alright. Not to agree with Scott – but we need to be brutally honest before we can start trying to help each other.”
“All cards have to be on the table…”, Isaac agreed, even if Stiles could see how it pained him to leave Scott alone. It must be even worse for the wolves, whose instincts pulled them closer to their alpha than Stiles would ever be.
“Exactly”, said Lydia.
And just like that, Malia settled back down, Stiles stayed in his seat. He wanted to get up, he wanted to hug Scott… but Lydia’s words kept him in his place. And Scott? He was smiling, even if it was a sad smile.
“It’s alright. It’s just- it’s something I think about. Something I thought you deserve to know.”
“When I was a kid… I wanted to become a dancer.”, Isaac’s voice was quiet when it filled the silence left over by Scott. “Camden, my- my older brother, he found this place and he cleaned their rooms at night so I could pay for their classes. My dad found out when I was fourteen… Camden fell in action a year later. I haven’t danced since.”
He wasn’t looking at them, he was staring at his hands. Stiles couldn’t fault him for that – remembering the things you once had always hurt. Even years and years later.
“I wanted to become a cook when I was eight. I loved helping my mom in the kitchen. Kylie played with dolls and the horse ranch our parents got us, and I stole knives from the kitchen so I could souffle an egg.”, Malia continued, a small smile decorating her lips at the memory.
“That’s not how-“
“I know, Lydia. I had no idea how to cook. I still don’t. Not really. But with eight, I designed my own restaurant. Kylie would be the head waitress, my dad the dish washer. My mom had the honor of being my guest.”
Stiles had known none of this, and he still prided himself in knowing Malia better than just about anyone. She had never told him about her childhood dreams and… maybe this was exactly why they were doing this. Not all secrets were bad ones – some were just parts of their souls they had never shown before.
“I- I didn’t escape the Skinwalkers. I left. Because I wanted to, but also- also because they told me it was time.”, Kira’s cheeks were bright red from shame, the yellow light coming from the lamps above their heads making it visible for all of them.
“What?”, now it was Scott who broke their agreement, confusion evident in his voice.
“I- Yes, at first, I hated being there… but with time, the more I learned to understand them… it was quite freeing, actually. It was nice. But- I was forced away from Beacon Hills, and I knew… I knew it would be easier to accept my return if I said I escaped, instead of telling you that I could have come back sooner if I really, really wanted to.”
A disbelieving laugh escaped Stiles, the sound jarring in the tense silence of the room. For some reason Stiles had just assumed he was the fucked up one… but all of them were complicated messes. Kira had lied to them for a year in order to protect herself – and Scott’s feelings.
Scott and Isaac and Lydia and Malia were right… they needed to talk, they needed to break down the barriers and face their own demons head on. They needed to become pack again.
Kira was glaring at him, Scott too shocked to do much of anything. But before Stiles could apologize, before he could explain that he wasn’t hating on Kira, Lydia saved him like she was prone to do. She saved him by speaking up.
“I love my mom… but I am also terribly afraid of ending up like her. She- she is a great woman, but for so long… all she seemed to be was my dad’s ex-wife. She lost her fortune, her success, her dreams. And… and for most of my youth, I was so afraid of ending up like her that I started controlling my every move to make sure I would be different. I would be more than the man I’d marry. That I would be Lydia Martin first, and everything else second.”
Lydia was doing this thing, where she pressed her lips together when the words crawling up her throat turned heavy and sad. But she did it. She said what she wanted to say and… Stiles was proud of her. He knew this secret, had heard it whispered into his ear late at night and yet… it carried a different weight in a room like this.
For a long moment nobody spoke, until indivertibly every person in the room turned to look at him. He could feel their eyes on him like tiny spiders crawling up his spine, but for once… he didn’t run. It didn’t matter that he desperately wanted to vanish into the ether or that his heart beat faster than it should… what mattered were these people. Their pack. The truths they shared.
“I’m not joining the FBI.”
It sounded so simple when he put it like this. Just five little words that didn’t even come close to the desperation and hopelessness he had felt when he received their letter. For four years, Stiles had done everything to secure himself a job within the agency, had received outstanding marks during his internships and charmed every mentor he came across. But… it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough.
“I don’t- I don’t understand.”, Isaac seemed genuinely confused. Stiles couldn’t even blame him – he had done everything in his power so only his dad, Lydia, and Scott knew about his failure.
“I- I passed all their tests. I did great, really. My advisor told me I would be able to choose the department I would work for… and then I had to do one last psych evaluation before they could offer me a job. And I failed. I failed so badly the examiner used the words ‘we do not understand how this student could be trusted on the field before now and we request a reexamination of former test results’ because I am just that fucked up.”
Silence. Damning, deafening silence. And then…
“Well, that’s just bullshit.”
Malia sounded so sure of herself, so free of judgement, it startled a laugh out of Stiles. It was a harsh sound, unpleasant, but it still felt freeing when he said, “Yeah, it is, and now… well, now I don’t know what to do next. For six years I was the one with the plan and now I have a bachelor’s degree in criminal justice, PTSD, and no idea where to go from here”.
“I want to switch schools next semester. UCLA or Berkley have great art programs, and I need… I need to do something with all these things inside my head. When I left the Skinwalkers, I just wanted to be Kira again, but I think it is time to embrace the things I learned – and to do the things I actually want to do.”, Kira spoke into the silence following his proclamation. And Stiles… he wasn’t mad. Lydia had been right. He didn’t want to be comforted right now – right now just telling them was enough.
A weight lifted from his chest – and his heart soared when Lydia placed her hand on his arm and squeezed, showing him that… well, that she was still there, still by his side. That they were still Lydia and Stiles even if they had both done their best to hurt each other in the name of goodwill.
Scott was the one who spoke next, “My dad and I, we’re getting along better now… but I’m afraid if I ever have a kid, I'm going to end up like him. He abandoned us – what if I do the same? What if I fuck up the same way he fucked up with me?”.
It was an old truth, one that pre-dated werewolves and kitsunes and girlfriends, but Stiles thought it deserved an answer – his own truth stemming from the same period in time.
“Sometimes my dad looks at me… and all he sees is my mom. Whether it’s because I did something endearing the same way she would have done… or because I do something erratic and illogical that reminds him of her- of the dementia. It was getting better… and then the Ghost Riders happened, and they messed with his head. Some days it’s hard to be back home. Even four years later.”
It hurt to say it and yet… the more secrets they shared, the more words wanted to spill over Stiles’ lips. It was freeing – he had always bottled his emotions up, even before a dark spirit possessed him, even before dead bodies became a weekly occurrence. And now… now he was talking, sharing, opening up.
It was a weird position to be in – he hated feeling vulnerable, hated being weak… but he trusted the people in this room with his life. No, he trusted them with his soul. Even Isaac.
“I know you guys think I don’t want to learn human customs – and yes, I think most of them are utter bullshit – but sometimes… you make jokes or references, and nobody even tries to explain. It’s like… I’m on the outside, unable to understand why you are laughing, too afraid to ask what the hell is going on. And- and it makes me feel dumb, even though I know I'm not.”
Her fingers played with the carpet she was sitting on, her shoulders slumped as she stared past Stiles’ head. It was… a fair assessment, even if it made Stiles feel like an utter asshole. Judging by Scott’s downturned mouth and the wrinkles in the corner of Lydia’s eyes he wasn’t the only one.
“Sometimes…”, Isaac’s voice was barely audible, Stiles being forced to lean forward in his seat so he could understand the werewolf, “Sometimes I get mad that- that I seem to be the only one who remembers Boyd. And Erica. We- I mean, we suck at talking about Allison as well, but… I was friends with them. For a bit, at least. For a few months they made sure I was less alone. And- and some days I doubt you guys even remember their names.”
It was a sucker punch to the gut – maybe because it was true. Stiles had lost so many people… Boyd and Erica paled in the face of Allison, Heather, Tara, his mom, the deputies at the station he had grown up with. The truth hurt – who could have known?
“For a long time… it was hard for me to accept my place in the pack because I’d been there when Allison died. I heard… I knew Allison was Scott’s first love and- and I knew I would never be enough but… for a long time I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to fit into this group. This pack. And now- well, now I’m back on square one, aren’t I?”, Kira’s smile was rueful, Allison’s name a heavy weight in all of their hearts.
They had never really dealt with their grief, had they?
“Allison was the first real friend I ever made. After her death… there were quite a few moments where I thought people just kept me around for my talents, my intellect, my… my supernatural powers. It- it was easy to let that insecurity fester, to keep people at arms’ length. And- and it’s still something I fall back onto whenever I'm scared. Be it my own insecurities or- or the strength of my feelings.”
Lydia was looking straight at him as she spoke. It made sense – back in High School he had once described her as 60% evil on a good day. She was more than that. She was an ice queen who perfected hiding her emotions so well, not even the best werewolf nose could smell them.
She was also the girl he loved (one of the girls he loved, one of the people he loved, one of---).
Many things scared Lydia Martin (even more scared him) but she either ignored her fear or beat it into submission. Now she was… welcoming it. She stood by her fear, instead of against it.
It was a beautiful sight, her face open and vulnerable and oh, so kissable.
“I’m afraid of losing you. All of you. But- pack is pack, but you guys… you are something more. Xou're something else. And- and I am deadly afraid of the day I check my phone and I see that nobody texted me. Because… there is no one left to text me. We lost so much. We lost Erica, Boyd, Allison. I can’t- I can’t lose you, too. I can't be the last one to survive - the last one to say goodbye. I'm not strong enough to do that.”
Scott’s voice forced Stiles to look away from Lydia to meet his best friend’s eyes. They were brimming with unshed tears, and Stiles wanted to hug him – but Isaac was faster. It made sense, the beta sat next to Scott, and now he was embracing Scott as sorrow and love and grief overcame their alpha.
The mood in the room shifted, something complicated happening in the silence following Scott’s admission. Only the silent sobs escaping Scott’s clenched jaw were audible, six people thinking about all the things they had just learned.
It was Isaac, who broke the silence first, “I’ve had a crush on Scott since I was sixteen. I first noticed him before he even became a werewolf, when he helped a girl find her pet hamster while Stiles glared at her in the background. But… I developed feelings for him when he showed me how to take a person’s pain. When he taught me… that I could help others. That I was more than the bad words my dad had ascribed me. I- I fell in love with Allison but… that moment at Deaton’s never left me. It’s the reason I returned.”
Stiles counted to thirty, before Kira spoke up, her voice shaky, her hands fidgeting where they rested against her knees. She was obviously nervous and yet she seemed to know exactly what she was supposed to say - what kind of moment this was. “I think, I think I first wanted to kiss Malia when we went down to Mexico to find Derek. She taught me how to dance – how to let go. She might not know how to use a tablet, but she certainly knows how to dance. It was… magical. It was something so… different, I had no idea what to do with this sudden urge, so… I ignored it.”
“I woke up one day and realized Stiles and I were no longer talking. It was a year ago, and even though I still texted him, and he called me… there was nothing of substance being said between us. And it had been going on for a while… but a year ago I woke up and suddenly… this distance was the worst thing I’ve ever experienced. That was- that was the moment I realized I’m still in love with him. At least a little bit. At least maybe.”
Malia’s words hit him like a sledgehammer – for a moment he couldn’t breathe. She had said something similar on the drive up here, when she told him he broke her heart and… yes, Stiles had given her room because he thought she wanted it. He had given her room because Malia had been his first girlfriend and now she was dating his best friend. He had given her room because… because he’d been afraid.
Did the others feel just as unsettled as he did? It was as if the floor was dropping away underneath his feet, one confession at a time. If their earlier admissions had been freeing, moments of trust and honesty, this was a raging storm of emotions.
Only… their faces were calm, their tears silent and small.
This was the culmination of something big – it could make or break them, and Stiles knew he wasn’t the only one feeling the tension in the room.
“I think… I think I was always in love with Scott.”, his hand found Lydia’s, holding onto her elegant fingers even as he continued to speak, “There was no revelation, no moment of clarity. Scott was just- is just a part of me. We were a package deal from the moment we met when we were five. I can’t- I can’t be anyone without him. And- and it feels different than my feelings for Lydia. Different than what I had- have with Malia. It’s… it’s just something that is ScottandStiles. StilesandScott.”
Stiles knew his cheeks were stained red, knew his voice was trembling and shaking apart, but he forced himself to say these words. He offered them up for judgement – only to receive none. Lydia closed her eyes as if she was silently accepting his words, Malia and Isaac and Kira nodding as if they had known all along. Assholes. Only Scott… he finally untangled himself from Isaac, looking at all of them as if he was seeing them for the first time.
None of this information was truly new – but it was the first time they put it out in the open, instead of hiding it away in the closets of their hearts.
“Back when Isaac and Allison were dating, and I was slowly falling for Kira… I remember how confused I was. Because… because I wanted to kiss Allison. And I wanted to hold Isaac. And Kira’s hand was perfect in mine… I didn’t have the words for what I was feeling back then, my emotional state simply… a mess. But… I felt the same when Kira and Isaac came back, and Malia was a solid presence in my heart… and yet I yearned for other people as well. I yearned for my best friend. I wanted- I want so much.”
Stiles’ heart beat for Scott. For Lydia. For Malia. He wanted to reach out, he wanted to solve their troubles and make sure everything would be okay. He needed to-
But, no, once again Lydia stopped him. Only this time it was more than just a wave of her hand. She stood up, looking at all of them with contemplation heavy in her gaze. Something solid settled in Stiles’ gut – but it wasn’t fear, at least not yet.
“I’m not in love with any of you like that - except for Stiles. But- but you are my pack. And I do love you. I love going out for drinks with you, Malia, because you know exactly what I need when I am stressed. I love going shopping with you, Isaac, because you don’t get bored when I want to check out the tenth store – no, you find the eleventh one. I love taking you to art galleries and bookstores, Kira, because I know your grin will be worth the hours spent browsing. I love spending time with you, Scott, because- because you are one of the best people I know. I do love you. I am not in love with you, but I do love you - and I'm sorry for not realizing sooner that that would be enough.”
When Lydia spoke it wasn’t a confession – it was an announcement. It was something grand, something full of pride, something… sacred. Everyone was looking at her, Isaac blushing, Kira grinning, Malia turning her head as if to try and understand the mystery that was Lydia Martin. Scott was blinking tears out of his eyes – his friend was a lot more emotional tonight than usual, but that might just be the late hour and the wolfsbane infused wine he had earlier.
And Stiles? Stiles wasn’t sure how to react, mostly because he wasn’t sure what had just happened. Was it over? Had they solved all their problems? Had they taken care off what was wrong with them?
(No, because Kira had still hidden the truth, Isaac angry they forgot his friends, Malia insecure in her humanity, Scott insecure in his worth, Stiles losing his mind - and Lydia afraid of losing her place)
He just sat there staring at the woman he loved, the people he cared for most in the world, and – after enough silence had passed – he said, “What’s next?”.
“We go to bed.”, Lydia answered, as if it was obvious. Maybe it was.
“And then?”
“And then… tomorrow we sit down and talk. We figure out what each one of us wants. We figure out… how to make each one of us happy.”, Scott said, his voice growing steadier with each word he said.
“We figure out how to break the rules.”, declared Malia.
“What?”
“We figure out how to break the rules. Stiles and Lydia broke the rules so they could both have sex with other people. Now we need to break the rules… so we can love each other like that. Fuck each other. Kiss each other. Respect each other.”
It sounded so simple when Malia put it like that.
“Is it really that easy?”, Stiles surprised himself when he said that. He should be happy. It should be this easy.
“It’s not. It’s six people with different wants, needs, expectations, and fucked up lives. Look at what it took for us to get here.”
There was no bite to Isaac’s words, but Stiles could feel their sharpness as he processed what Isaac had just said. He was right. Stiles had been a mess the entire weekend, an asshole on top of that (especially to Isaac). Lydia manipulated him, Malia ignored so many boundaries it was mind blowing, Isaac tried to get them drunk…
Most of them had suffered in silence for years, slowly isolating themselves as they drifted apart, too afraid to reach out and yet unable to let go. They had survived Beacon Hills, they would return stronger… but their past shaped them deeply, the things they survived a part of their soul.
“Tomorrow we talk.”, repeated Scott. “And we listen to each other. And- and we start to grow. As- as people. As a pack. As… as whatever we become when we figure out how to love multiple people at once.”
“And now?”, asked Stiles.
“Now we sleep.”, whispered Kira.
Not one of them got up to sleep in their own bed. It was an unspoken agreement to stay in the living room, the armchairs and couches comfortable enough for a short night spent together. Stiles fell asleep with Lydia’s head cushioned on his lap; Malia’s hand wrapped around his ankle. His own fingers were tangled into Kira’s hair, Isaac’s back pressed against his. Scott was watching over them, his glowing red eyes the last thing Stiles saw before sleep finally claimed him.
He was safe.
That night, Stiles didn’t dream. He didn’t have to. He was surrounded by the people he loved.