When Lydia walked into the school on a crisp March morning, at first she thought she had just imagined the increase in the volume of murmuring upon her heels click-clacking against the linoleum floor. It wasn't that she wasn't used to the talk, or the rumors (god, by now she was used to the rumors), but today it seemed different. Not so nasty, but more... expectant. Like everyone was looking to see what she would do. It made her nervous.

She was distracted from her thoughts when a warm arm draped around her shoulders and soft lips pressed against her cheek. "Morning, gorgeous," a familiar voice sang obnoxiously against her throat.

"Stiles Stilinski, get out of my face," she said, prim but fond, pushing his face away from her with one hand. Once he was at a respectable distance, grinning at her widely, she seized him by the collar and yanked him in again for a proper kiss.

Her boyfriend of three months followed her lead gladly, wrapping his arms around her waist and then, without warning, bending slightly backwards at the waist, lifting her clean off the ground. She couldn't help the fact that one of her knees bent, heeled boot sticking slightly into the air. That was just what this boy did to her- he was so warm and familiar and he soothed all her rattled nerves and she felt like a teenage girl in love which she knew she was but she never really felt like that until now.

At least, until he broke away from the kiss to blow a raspberry against her cheek. She shrieked (quietly, because there were people around) and resisted the urge to giggle when she felt the rumble of a laugh in his chest before he set her down.

The she straightened her skirt, brought a hand to her hair to ensure her bun was still in position, and resumed walking through the hall as if nothing had occurred.

He fell into step next to her, hands shoved into pockets. "I missed you last night." His eyes sparkled as he looked at her.

She felt the same way; she'd had plans with Kira and Malia, but she hadn't been able to help thinking about him the entire night. And the fact that he'd been blowing up her phone with texts and spamming her with emoticons (many of which didn't even make sense) didn't help. "I could tell."

"Are you free tonight?" he pressed, eyes not moving from her face. She smiled a little when his lack of attention to where he was going nearly caused him to walk straight into a gaggle of junior girls, but he managed to right himself at the last second.

She considered being coy, but suddenly all she wanted was an evening with Stiles. Things had been so hectic lately; they barely had any time to themselves. "Yes."

He nearly tripped at her easily-given answer. "Y-yes?"

She decided to throw him a bone. "I'd love to, she said, finally approaching her locker. And then, nonchalantly, "maybe I can stay for dinner with you and your dad."

"Oh, no, Dad's working tonight," he said, deflating.

She snapped her lock open, turned to face him momentarily. "Good." Her gaze was meaningful.

It took him a second, but then his eyes were darkening as he realized what she was saying. "Oh. Oh. Very good. Excellent," he added, running a hand haphazardly through his hair. "Yes. Definitely come over. We will have dinner. Good. We'll be... good."

"I hope not," she purred in something of a sultry manner, still casual as she turned back to her locker, leaving him standing behind her still.

She enjoyed hearing him gulp for air sometimes like he usually did when she made insinuations like this, but this morning there was silence. She was about to turn and see what had gotten into him when suddenly she was pushed gently forward against her locker, Stiles' body pressing into her from behind.

"You like fucking teasing me, don't you?" he muttered before pressing his nose into the back of her neck, running his hand down her bare arm and leaving goosebumps. She couldn't even answer. The hallway was too hot all of a sudden.

He craned his neck to press a surprising chaste kiss to her jaw. "I'll see you later." And then the warmth was gone, Stiles disappearing as quickly as he'd approached.

Heart beating fast, she whipped around to find him now engaged in conversation with Scott as they walked away from her down the hall. When he caught her looking, he winked. Right before rounding a corner and disappearing again.

Oh, he was so getting it tonight.

As her gaze shifted, all thoughts of plotting mutually beneficial revenge on Stiles faded away at the sight her eyes next landed on, prowling through the hall towards her.

Jackson Whittemore.

Her heart stopped for a good second before stuttering back to life. She was sure her jaw dropped.

He was back.

He looked good; fashionable as always, Ray Bans tucked into his shirt pocket, an arrogant smile on his face, those cheekbones looking much more prominent than they had two years ago.

He stopped in front of her, and Lydia finally knew why the entire school was watching.

"Hey, Lydia," he said, and he was charming as ever.

All that came out of her mouth was, "Why are you here?"

He barked out a laugh, leaning one muscled forearm against the locker over Lydia's head. She didn't like that slightly condescending twinkle in his eye. "Isn't it obvious? I moved back from London." She now noticed a very slight English tilt to his accent. She made a face.

"So you're here for the rest of the year?"

"Yeah," he replied. "It's been a while. You look..." She felt his green-eyed gaze crawl over her body, and she didn't like it at all. "Hot."

Great. She pursed her lips, eyes flitting over his form, before saying, "Well, London hasn't done you any favours." Without waiting for a reaction, she turned back to her locker mirror, reaching up with a tube of lipstick to touch up.

"I'd beg to differ," Jackson breathed, leaning in behind her, reminding Lydia horribly of the same action Stiles had done just a minute ago, except then it set butterflies into her stomach and right now she just wanted to throw up. "If you want proof, we could get... reacquainted?"

She'd heard enough. She capped her lipstick and slammed her locker door shut without warning, causing him to jump. "You can get reacquainted with my boot up your ass," she hissed.

He merely laughed as she stomped away. "Feisty."

-x-

Lydia sat through her first class alone in a silent rage. She heard what everyone was saying even when they tried to murmur it.

-Jackson's back! And dude, Lydia doesn't waste any time.

-Do you think Lydia's going to get with him again?

-Lydia and Jackson were practically making out in the hallway this morning- didn't you see?

-Oh my god, I heard they did it in Coach's office.

-Maybe her boyfriend is single now?

This last comment, whispered hopefully in the back of her English classroom, caused Lydia to break her pencil in half. By accident.

Luckily (or unluckily, perhaps) the bell rang before she could do anything stupid, like turn around and strangle a bitch. (Actually now that she thought about it, she wasn't quite sure the voice had been female.)

She stuffed her books haphazardly back into her bag and fled the room, glad that her next class had Stiles in it.

Unfortunately, when she got there, she learned that it also had Jackson. He was smirking at her. She steadfastly ignored him, throwing her hair back and walking towards her usual seat.

Sadly, she quickly realized her usual seat was in a place that caused her to unavoidably cross Jackson's path.

She was going to try to ignore him, but he said, "Hey. Sit with me."

She glanced at him, at all his friends that he'd already picked up who wore identical, knowing smirks, and wished Danny were here to beat some sense into him. "Pass," she said with a sickly-sweet smile, before making to go to her seat.

He stopped her again. "Holy shit, is that Stilinski?"

She followed his gaze. It seemed Jackson had finally noticed Stiles slouching in his corner of the room, head bent over his notes because, as he'd frantically texted her last period, I FORGOT ABOUT THE QUIZ!1! FUCKK!K!

A smile was slowly spreading over Jackson's face. "Wow, it's been a while since I've seen him and McCall," he mused. "Is he still a fucking moron?" He grinned at her, clearly trying to win her over in what he thought was an opinion Lydia held.

Between Lydia and herself, she'd never held that opinion.

And his tone infuriated her- how dare he insult Stiles? He had no idea what they'd been through together.

She wanted to punch him in the smug face. But, as they say, the best revenge is living well, blah blah blah (that, and she didn't want to risk the teacher walking in earlier than usual and putting her in detention). So instead she ignored him and walked on towards Stiles, stopping in front of him.

His greeting was less exuberant than usual, oddly. His eyes barely flickered up to acknowledge her, nodding his warm smile, before turning back to the notes he was reading. She frowned a little. "Stiles?"

He looked up, and this time his eyes flicked almost imperceptibly towards where Jackson was sitting before looking up tentatively at her.

She understood in a rush.

And decided the jury was still out on whether Stiles was a fucking moron.

She sighed and leaned over the desk and kissed him without fanfare.

He didn't respond for a good moment, likely just startled, but she wrapped her fingers of one hand into his dark hair and tilted her head. Then he opened up, kissing her back in that adoring way of his.

Fully aware that Jackson was watching, she leaned forward even more, pushing Stiles back in his chair. Her free hand balanced herself on the desktop.

Finally his hand came up to stroke her cheek, and when they broke away, breathless, he silently tucked a loose strand of strawberry-blonde hair behind her ear. His expression was hard to read.

She glanced back at Jackson, who was looking on with his jaw dropped. Smugly, she dropped into her seat behind Stiles.

The teacher finally walked in and class started. Strangely, Stiles didn't turn around to talk to her as he usually did in this class. In fact, he hardly seemed to move at all in his seat. Which was unprecedented. The only telltale evidence of his distress was the way his knee jiggled anxiously up and down the entire class. Lydia wondered what had gotten into him.

She finally got her answer when she caught up to him at lunch, having stayed late to speak with the teacher about her extra credit. He was alone at their usual table outside with a tray of food- the others hadn't arrived yet, apparently- but he looked extra moody as he sipped on his bottle of orange juice.

She plopped into the seat across from him. They stared at each other for a long moment, not speaking. Then:

"He's staring at your butt."

She turned in her seat; sure enough, across the courtyard, she could see Jackson seated next to a few of the lacrosse players."Stiles, that's not even possible. I'm sitting down."

Stiles pouted, crossing his arms. "Okay fine. He was staring at your butt. And now he's looking at the back of your head."

She glanced back again. When Lydia met Jackson's eyes, he didn't try to look away or seem embarrassed. He just smirked, slowly, one corner of his mouth ticking up. Lydia analytically knew that this move was supposed to be seductive on his part. And maybe, two years ago, she would have walked over there to kiss the sneer off of his face. But not anymore.

So, she didn't even blink, rather choosing to turn around to face Stiles again. He was staring at his sandwich with a surprising intensity as he took another sip.

Then his lips smacked off the lip of the bottle with a popping sound. "So. He's back."

Those three words were absolutely loaded. With resentment, irritation, curiosity, and... fear?

"It seems that way," she sighed, reaching into her purse for an apple. He eyed her movement, momentarily distracted from the topic at hand.

"Is that all you're eating?"

She huffed. "Stiles, it doesn't matter-"

"Is that all you're eating."

"I didn't have time this morning, it's not a big deal-"

He pushed his sandwich over to her without hesitation before folding his arms and resting them on the table. "He's getting on my nerves."

She was caught off guard before she realized he had switched topics again. "The feeling is mutual. Stiles, I'm not going to eat your sandwich. I'm not even hungry." It looked really good though, she couldn't help but note. She wondered what he would say if she mentioned she'd forgotten to eat breakfast, as well.

He reached forward and pried the sandwich in half, offering one piece to her. "I insist," he said aggressively, waving it in front of her nose.

She pushed his hand away, giving him her best Lydia Martin Glare. He backed down immediately.

Then, without warning: "Why'd you kiss me back there?"

She blinked. "What?"

He looked down at his sandwich, now avoiding her eyes. "Why'd you kiss me in front of Jackson?" he muttered, failing in his attempt at nonchalant.

She got it. "You think I was trying to make him jealous?"

He didn't say anything.

His non-answer was more than enough of an answer for Lydia. He seriously still thought this of her? After all this time? Seething, she stood up. "Are you kidding," she hissed, making to turn away. Then she thought better of it, snatched the half of the sandwich he'd offered her earlier (because she actually was hungry) and turned on the heel again before throwing over her shoulder. "Talk to me when you're ready to evolve from your current status as a Neanderthal."

She was halfway across the courtyard, taking a vicious bite of the sandwich (Fuck, it was good) when he caught up with her. "Lydia! Wait!"

She ignored him but he grabbed onto her wrist. Then she levelled him with another glare, and he immediately let go, but his eyes were beseeching. "That's not- that's not what I was thinking," he stammered, hands gesticulating wildly. She folded her arms and cocked one eyebrow, waiting for an explanation.

He swallowed a few times before going on. "It's just, he's back, and it's been years since he's been back, and so much stuff has changed since then and I know that but I can't get it out of my head that you only broke up with him because he left and, you- you said you were in love with him," these last few words were tentative, equal parts quiet and sad.

She felt her glare slowly melting away as he blabbered on. She understood what he was really thinking, and now she felt a little sad, too.

When she didn't speak right away, he continued, biting his lip. "So I don't know what's going on in your head, Lydia. I don't know if... if you... if you want to..." he trailed off, mouth opening and closing several times, before taking a deep, shaky breath and rubbing the back of his head with one hand. "Just tell me what you're thinking. Please."

She threw him a bone. "What I'm thinking is you're an idiot."

He blinked rapidly.

She took a deep breath and acknowledged something out loud that she hadn't thought about in years. But he deserved to know. "I don't love him anymore, Stiles."

"You don't?" he asked faintly.

"No," she replied firmly. "He's an asshole. In every way."

She watched his expression become hopeful again. "So, you don't want to, like, tango with him anymore?"

She rolled her eyes. "Absolutely not." In fact... "I want to tango with you," she said with amusement.

"So do I," he shot back, immediately as soon as she said it, and she had to laugh because clearly it had been on his mind. "How much time do we have before your next period?"

She glanced at her phone. "Fourty-five."

He grabbed her hand and started speed-walking her towards the parking lot. "I'm so glad my house is nearby."

-x-

It wasn't until the end of the school day that she ran into Jackson again. She'd been in a happy bliss the entire afternoon, actually- Stiles had taken her to his house, but it turned out to be an ambush to force her to eat more food (she really didn't mind.).

Jackson was waiting for her at her locker, and she took the time to deliberately roll her eyes slowly before turning to her lock.

He wasn't perturbed. "You and Stilinski, huh?"

She didn't dignify that with an answer. He kept going.

"You move on fast." His tone was a little darker now.

"Fast?" She snorted unattractively and wrenched her locker open with a little more force than necessary. "It's been two years since you left for London with no warning and never contacted me again. A lot has happened."

"Yeah, like you replacing me with that tool. Couldn't you do any better, Lydia?" His tone was more on the angry side now, mocking. Ah. Lydia got it now. She'd gotten over him and he knew it. Lydia had hurt his precious male pride.

Good.

"I mean, Stilinski?" Jackson laughed, dragging a hand over his face. His voice had a hard edge. "I mean, what kind of sex are you having?"

That did it. She whirled around and clocked him in the face; not a slap, or unfocused hit, but a closed fist hook to the mouth (with the teensiest help from her powers). His head actually whipped to the side.

Lydia slammed her locker closed. He looked more surprised than anything else. Bringing a hand up to his jaw, suddenly he was looking at her with new eyes. Finally.

"I am having mind-blowing sex with 'Stilinski', thank you," she said angrily. It was the truth, frankly. "Infinitely better than anything you ever had to offer. Not that it's any of your business. But more importantly?" She got up in Jackson's face now. She wasn't afraid of him anymore.

"He treats me better than you ever did," she hissed, and he was edging back a little bit now, eyes wide with shock. "He loves me like you clearly never did. And most importantly, I love him so much more than anything I might have felt for you." The last words were spit from her mouth like venom, but she couldn't help it. She wanted to see him in shock. She wanted him to see that Lydia Martin was worth loving and that she wasn't going to come crawling back.

The Lydia of now realized that Jackson had treated her like absolute shit. She deserved more than that; she was worth more than that.

And Stiles treated her like she was priceless.

She didn't even wait for his reaction at that. She whirled on the heel and strode away, shoulders thrown back, face turned up, with renewed confidence.

She wasn't prepared to meet Stiles when she rounded the corner and found herself at the double doors.

She froze for a moment, wondering if he had heard. But he was at ease, attention down on his phone.

She bit her lip. It wasn't exactly that she'd never told him she loved him, but... yeah, that actually was the case. But she'd never actually really put too much thought into it until right now, when she'd spat it unromantically at Jackson's face.

Being with Stiles had always been so effortless and natural, she never felt any doubts or the need to define her feelings for him, to box them into three words.

She felt nervous suddenly.

But he just adjusted his backpack straps, and grinned at her. "You ready to go?"

She eyed him. "Let's," she replied briskly after a moment, deciding he hadn't heard, and they fell into step with each other on their way out.

When they got to his Jeep, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her in for a long, searing kind of kiss.

And when they broke away, he was grinning, golden eyes alight. But he didn't say a single thing, just walked over to the driver's side.

They didn't talk about it, but she knew by that look in his eyes- he'd heard.

And, as she found out, she didn't mind at all.

A/N: you might be wondering by now: what the hell is this? why is this a thing? how much sleep have you been getting lately hun? all good questions. ones that i asked myself several times while writing this.

maybe you can tell me what this is... in the review section ;)

(arrowcave on tumblr; this was written as a gift for thebeethatcouldhavebeen on tumblr)