Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf.

Summary: Somehow, gradually, he began to matter. StilesLydia, oneshot

Alrighty! This isn't very long - I've found that a lot of my fics lately haven't been very long - but I guess I really wanted to write for this fandom because I just love it so very much. And since this pairing is my OTP for this fandom, why not start with them? I just hope I do them justice. Thank you so much for reading!

Almost Like Falling

If only she knew how this happened.

Lydia liked logic. She liked being able to reason and provide an answer to things that most people would be stumped by - even though she didn't want people to know that.

But he is able to see right through her.

At first, it annoyed her. Well, she supposed everything about him annoyed her at one point in time. At first it annoyed her how perceptive he could be about her every movement, about her every whim and thought and it was so infuriating how he could predict everything about her. And then it annoyed her how much he cared. And then she just stopped finding reasons that he annoyed her, settling on the fact that he was still breathing after all this time and calling it that.

And yet...he still gave her pause.

It was odd, someone making her so wary that she would have to pause and think about just how to interact with them. Usually, she was able to figure out how to deal with a situation and quickly and justly deal with it. Not a lot of thought. Most people weren't complex, most people were easy to solve, most people were simple as soon as you knew what kinds of buttons to push and in what order.

Lydia thought he was just that simple. She thought she knew the combination to make him do whatever she wanted - and, really, she did know this. Boys were simple in the fact that they would go out of their way for the pretty girl with the pretty smile and the pretty words flowing from her pretty mouth.

However, he was never that simple.

Sure, she'd like to think that Stiles was just another nerd she can manipulate, but for some reason he has vexed her every time.

She'd be mean to him, saying some snide comment, and he'd fire one right back at her - but he'd never truly mean it. There was still a kindness in his eyes that she had never really seen in anyone she had interacted with. There was still that breathless wonder he had when talking to her - sure, he had gotten pretty adept at hiding it, but it was still there - that made her feel as if she were particularly special.

Lydia can't really put her finger on exactly why she has become so entranced by the abnormally nerdy, perpetually awkward, socially dense Stiles Stilinski.

She has tried, time and time again, to find a particular rhyme and reason as to why she just can't shake him, no matter how much she tried. Sure, he is as persistent as they come - maybe even more so, actually - and that might be a reason to it. Such idiotic stubbornness in the face of her many rejections might have endeared her to him in the first place.

Then he proved he actually cared, uncountable times. All with that awestruck calling of her name, the constant defense of her name in the face of her detractors...

And she had softened to him, gradually.

Gradually.

Lydia had softened to him so much at this point that she really cannot imagine being without him, without his puppy dog eyes and his idiotically kind gestures and the way he said her name, as if she were the only person in the world who mattered, the only person in the universe who was enough to twist his universe out of proportion and render it unrecognizable.

"Lydia."

The voice had come out of no where, breaking into her thoughts. She hoped he hadn't seen her jump at his voice - now that would be beyond embarrassing - and turned to look at him, purposefully displaying an air of nonchalance when in reality the very look on his face - concerned and kind and just very him - was enough to send her pulse bounding.

"Yes, Stiles?" she asked, keeping her words at a calm drawl.

"You've been sitting there, tearing that napkin to shreds for the past half hour," he replied, his voice holding a slight amusement as well as concern. He was good at that.

Lydia stared at him, unblinking, continuing to do just what he accused her of.

"Mind if I sit?" he prodded, fingers grazing the top of the lunchroom table as he spoke, almost sheepishly, when they both knew he had no need to be such..

Lydia looked at him, pretending to think over it to an almost nauseating degree. Even with all of the changes that the two of them went through, she still enjoyed seeing him squirm. And squirm he did, fidgeting about until she finally relented, saying, "Go ahead," and motioning to the space in front of her with an almost half-hearted gesture.

He scrambled into the seat, almost knocking himself unconscious as he did so. Lydia tried to not pay attention to the look of interest on his face - because that interest was interspersed with worry, and try as she might to ignore it, she hated seeing that look on his face, especially when it was associated with her.

She eyed him for a moment, unsure of what to say, unsure that she really wanted to say anything - and apparently he felt the same way. Lydia tried to think of a reason that he would want to place himself there - certainly there was another massive problem involving werewolves or the other supernatural beings that seemed to flock to Beacon Hills. But, Stiles remained uncharacteristically silent after randomly producing a sack lunch and bringing out various food items.

Maybe he just wanted to eat lunch with you... a voice in her head whispered.

The thought was remarkably, unexpectedly sweet.

Instead of breaking the silence with some insensitive remark like she usually would, Lydia allowed it to play its course - the two of them eating, parallel to one another, the quietest of moments speaking the loudest.

It was the most stable Lydia Martin had felt in ages.

End.