"Take your shoes off".
Lydia raised one perfectly arched brow at the boy standing before her. In return, Stiles crossed his arms over his chest, the muscles that wrapped around each one flexed - causing another eyebrow to raise in appreciation.
Lydia smiled tightly, the sarcasm not lost on Stiles. She toed off her heels, the red soles hitting the gym floor with a dull thump. The sound echoed throughout the empty hall and through the deserted corridors.

Stiles smiled warmly as Lydia suddenly lost six inches of her height, dropping to her natural state of five foot three and below his shoulders. She looked up at him with an indignant stare and he chuckled.
"I don't see why you would wear heels like that to training in the first pla-''.
She stepped forward abruptly, her long, fiery curls bouncing and cut him off with sweetly murmured words.
"I maintain a GPA of 5.0 and I predict death in my spare time'', Lydia glanced up at the speechless boy through long lashes, "I do both wearing heels that have previously kicked werewolves in the shin''.
Stiles chuckled darkly as he fondly recalled the memory of Peter clutching his leg as Lydia had stalked away from him, her head held high.

"Are we doing this then?''
Lydia nodded in determination as she swept her hair into a messy knot. Strawberry blonde curls fell loose and caught Stiles' attention, his fingers aching to sweep them away from her face.
She unzipped her hoody, a washed jacket that swamped her. As she chucked it into the dark corners of the gym, the number '24' that was emblazoned on the back making Stiles grin.
She ignored his smirk, looking at the ground with interest as continued to peel off more layers of clothing. Her black skirt followed, the material caressing her smooth legs as it floated to the floor. She stepped out daintily, the small running shorts left in its place.
Stiles gulped almost audibly, his mouth going dry at the not so innocent striptease that had taken place in front of him.
Lydia stood and stretched, the material of her tank top riding up slightly, showing a small expanse of smooth skin between her shorts and top that had Stiles' glowing amber eyes wandering happily.

They were quiet as they approached each other, the thick, blue mat that stood between them seemed like a daunting canyon and Lydia's expression suddenly became nervous. She licked her lips, her eyes flickering from the boy to the mat and back.
He noticed immediately, the way her shoulders tensed and how her fingers fiddled with the hem of her shorts.
"You okay?'' he stayed where he was, but inside, he ached to reach out to her. His voice was full of concern and Lydia managed a light smile.
"Yeah - sometimes, I just remember that this isn't just late night research on body combat… and all this practicing isn't only for fun. There's a reason we're doing this'', she frowned, as if she was annoyed at herself. Her wide eyes met his again, "I sometimes forget this is all real''.

Stiles nodded, the comforting words he wished he could say were stuck in his throat. Instead, he took a step onto the mat and reached out a hand to her.
She took it after a moment of hesitation and her skin burned at the touch of his rough palm. The last few times they had met, the pair had sat devouring articles and YouTube videos on basic self defence and body combat. They took notes, prompted the other into remembering to eat and shared anxious glances every time a phone rang.
Sometimes, Scott would be with them, telling them both how he was proud of them - how it was a great idea. More often that Scott's presence was Malia's.
The werecoyote usually appeared around 9pm, clambering through Stiles' bedroom to pepper the boy's face with kisses as he would give an uncomfortable Lydia apologetic glances.

Their evening would usually be cut short then and Lydia would politely decline the offer of a ride home - knowing that Malia would sit in the front of Stiles' jeep, that she would be there between them to ensure there was no goodbye hug.

Lydia had not touched Stiles, in the most innocent sense of the word - in any way for weeks. In fact, if her calculations were right, she deduced that it had been over a month.
Now, alone in the dimly lit hall, she finally received what she hadn't realised she craved for so long. At his touch, she almost gasped.
His long, slender fingers wrapped themselves gently around her hand, holding her as if she was made of glass.
He prompted her to step onto the mat and she joined him with careful steps. With a brave heart, she allowed herself to glance up at him and she was met with his lips curled into a small smile.
His warm gaze was directed at their joined hands and Lydia knew then that he had missed their intimacy too. Stiles was there with open arms and a sleep warmed bed when she needed him most. His hand was always on the small of her back, leading her to safety. She would feel him next to her in class, a casual arm thrown on the back of her chair as they listened to their teacher drone on.

Stiles had realised a few weeks ago that the constant strain he felt upon him was the tether he shared with the strawberry blonde haired girl. It eased when she was near and the little, curious creature inside him practically purred when he would pull her onto his lap during pack movie nights.
As of late, it seemed to hate him. The tightness he felt in his chest kept him awake at night, gnawing at him when he put an arm around the wrong girl that lay in his bed. Now, as he resisted the urge to intertwine his fingers with Lydia's smaller once, the weight lifted and warmth flooded his body. He exhaled with relief as Lydia closed her eyes with a content smile.

They stood for moments, silently holding on to each other like lifelines. The light above them flickered and broke their little bubble, bringing them both back to reality of the musty gym and cold air. Stiles coughed awkwardly and grudgingly released the girls hand, looking in disappointment as it dropped slowly to her side and away from his touch.
She bit her lip as she watched him struggle to fathom the lesson plan he had prepared for them during History.
He snapped his fingers as he suddenly announced, "Evasion techniques!''.

"Are you sure?"
"Lydia I promise you, it'll be fine", Stiles shot her a confident grin as he braced himself on the mat. She stood ten feet away from him, her bare feet tapping the wooden floorboards nervously.
"I don't want to hurt you!'' Her full lips practically fell into a pout as she gazed at him with wide, worried eyes.
Stiles chuckled, the adoration in his gaze was obvious as he called back, "You're not going to hurt me, Lydia, come on - it's the only way to learn''.

The girl made a sound that was half way between a groan and a sigh, but nevertheless, she found her correct footing and began to count down.
"One… two...''
Stiles grinned at her attempt to placate him and he positioned him arms in the way the video had shown, "Three!''
Lydia lunged forward, her feet slapping against the floor as she quickly built up speed and threw the right side of her body into Stiles.
He stumbled on slightly before twisting the opposite way, ducking beneath her swinging arm and appearing behind her.
It didn't take the boy long to capture both of her hands gently in his own, bringing her back against his chest in triumph.
His voice was quiet and his chest heaved against her smaller body as he murmured into her ear, "caught you''.

The air seemed to still and the only sound to be heard was the collective pants of their shallow breaths. The bare skin between them fizzled with energy and Lydia swore it tingled. Stiles slowly released her hands, allowing his own to trail upwards to her wrists where he tenderly rubbed the skin.
Moments passed with growing intimacy before he asked if she was okay. Lydia nodded her reply, not trusting her voice as his fingers continued their soft ministrations across her wrists and down to her open palms.
His touch both soothed and ignited her skin, the crushing feeling in her chest no longer caused by the weeks of missing him. She ached to be closer, to draw constellations across his chest with her fingertips, to feel him curled around her in the night.
She closed her eyes with the sheer, beautiful agony of it all. Lydia stepped away and Stiles allowed her hand to fall from him own for the second time that night. The creature in his chest lashed out and he flinched at the distance she put between them.
"My turn?" Lydia's eyes smiled to him, the golden flecks that were usually hidden amongst green and brown called out to him; an irresistible beacon in the otherwise dull surroundings.
He could only nod as he watched her spin around and take his place on the mat.

"Ready?'' He called out to the girl, wondering if it was possible that she had gotten smaller. Lydia stood there, her hair messier than before and posed with her arms ready for his attack. She nodded and gave a little yell of confirmation.
"I'll go slow, okay? Just tell me if you want to st-''.
"Oh my God, Stiles, just do it already!'' She growled from her spot, reminding him of an angry kitten. He smirked and smothered the chuckle that rose in his throat.
"Whatever you say, boss...''
She rolled her eyes at the boy and began to count, "One… two…''
"Three!" They both called out together, Stiles immediately barrelling towards her. She braced her bare feet on the sticky mat, her body expecting impact at once. Instead, she remembered what Stiles had told her and she threw all of her weight away from him, tucking her arms around her head; ready to roll away from the hypothetical danger.
Instead, she felt arms reach round her waist, pulling her back and into a strong, hard body. His warmth enveloped her like a wave that had pulled her under. Together, they felt back onto the back with an "oof''.

"Are you okay?'' Stiles' voice was muffled as his face was burrowed into the crook of her neck, his arms still wrapped tightly around her. She heard the smile in his voice.
"I'm fine, except some manic decided it would be wise to literally haul my body out of the air...''
Lydia trailed off as the body on top her own shook with silent laughter and she had to press her lips together in order to suppress her own.
It was only when Stiles lifted his head and looked down at her did all humour fade from the situation. His eyes shone warmly as they gazed into her own and she watched with curiosity as the wide grin on his face shrunk to small smiles, as if he knew something she didn't.
He shifted slightly and his legs brushed against her own as he settled between them. Her stomach flipped.
His arms slid out from underneath Lydia's body and he braced himself on his elbows in order to gain a better view of her still shocked expression. He exhaled heavily as he rested his body ever so slightly on top of her own, his breath landing on her parted lips. She shivered and he saw.

With both curiosity and confidence, he let himself fall into her; his arms on either side of her head and his face slowly dipping towards her own. Stiles' eyes were wide and alert, scanning the girl's face for the sign to 'back off'. It didn't come.
Instead, Lydia's hands found their way from the cold material of the mat to the soft cotton of Stiles' tshirt. Her fingers fisted the material tightly, terrified he might evaporate in front of her eyes. She tugged slightly, her own mind and body unaware of the action. He moved closer at her request and she breathed a sigh of both relief and excitement as his body lay completely in line with her own.
Hard planes of muscles were met with soft curves and long legs and rough palms tangled their way into fallen auburn curls.
"It's better this way, isn't it? It doesn't hurt anymore''.
Stiles' voice was so soft, Lydia barely heard him over the drumming in her ears. Her blood pounded through her veins and his sweet breath that cascaded over her face made her dizzy.
She stared up at him with wide, honest eyes and nodded. The girl couldn't lie, she couldn't pretend to him that she didn't feel it too.
Lydia didn't ask him to explain or question him at all.

She merely let him roll their joined bodies so they lay on their sides, their legs intertwined and their arms wound tightly around each other.