How We Love

This time he had a list. Not scrawled on a sticky note but entered painstakingly into his phone. Tasks ticked off until he was pretty damn sure it was all perfect.

Standing in the living room, where he’d been for the last ten minutes, foot tapping with barely restrained nervous energy, Stiles rearranged the red paper wrapped around the roses again. Fingers smoothing out the creases his clutching had put into it. Not red, that was a little too cheesy, even though the store had been full of buckets of red roses. People like cheesy, most people at least. Problem was Lydia wasn’t most people.

He hadn’t seen it, not really, when he’d first started trailing her around like a lost puppy. Lydia had been hiding her light under a bushel, so to speak. She’d wanted people to see her as some sort of ditsy airhead, all the better to keep Jackson’s ego fluffed. What was hidden was incredible, with a slick coating of gloss that Lydia wouldn’t give up, even if the two of them did seem to be working every spare minute to afford the apartment.

That probably made the plans for tonight a mistake but Stiles wasn’t about to regret that. It wasn’t every day you got to move in with the red headed girl of your dreams and celebrate your first valentine’s day in your new place. That was special enough that maybe you skipped your last class of the day to set everything up. He’d driven into town to pick everything up, practically wincing when he’d stopped by the station and his dad had pulled the guilt act on never seeing his son. Whelp, when you grew up and suddenly had to adult everything, there wasn’t much time left for anything else.

Except for tonight.

Stiles glanced over his shoulder, narrowing eyes at the small table in the kitchen. Candles, real napkins, plates set out and a bottle of wine breathing. He’d ended up down an hour long rabbit hole over that – who the hell knew bottles of wine were meant to breathe? Dinner in the stove, the remnants of the prep carefully wiped up from the kitchen counters, and OK, washed out of his hair too. Everything set. Nothing to get anxious about now.

Other than Lydia forgetting. He grinned as she walked in, holding out the bunch of flowers, ready to lay the ‘I love yous’ on thick. She looked at the calendar though. Damn. Stiles narrowed his eyes grumbling lightly as she walked over, but he smacked a kiss on her cheek. ”It’s not quiet a 50 inch flat screen TV buuuuut….” He drew the word out, letting it break off in a grin. ”Happy valentine’s day.” His other arm slid around Lydia’s waist as she rose up to kiss him. For a minute he let himself fall deep into it, that little voice in the back of his brain still not able to entirely believe its luck. ”You hungry?” Stiles murmured against her lips as he drew back. He looked sheepish, just for a second before pride kicked back in. ”I cooked. It’s not exactly a fancy restaurant for dinner but there is pretty decent chicken and some kinda fancy French potato thing that I almost cut my finger off putting together.” Luckily Lydia hadn’t been there to witness the chaos in the kitchen, all of that craziness had been swept away to only leave that perfect looking evening ahead of them.

Tagged: LYDIA MARTIN * Word Count: 581

This was cheesy movie levels of romantic perfection. He’d sat through dozens in high school, even when idiots like Jackson Freaking Whittemore had rolled their eyes at them. They were the ultimate research on how to get a girl when you were the biggest dork in the school. Of course, that hadn’t exactly worked with Lydia until they were practically out of high school but they been a decent grounding. Gifts had been high up on the list of stuff to try but when your brain couldn’t fix on anything it needed to for more than five minutes at a time you had a tendency to buy everything and try to figure it out later. Stiles had done just that for Lydia’s birthday, ending up with a room full of stuff, half of which he’d never gotten around to returning.

This was planned. The night, the gift, the meal – sweated over with some TV chef blaring out of his laptop as he tried to avoid slopping half of it across the keyboard. Every bit of it supposedly special. Now he’d seen her smile Stiles knew he’d done pretty well.

Beaming, he held a finger up between the two of them. ”I bought it for you before, remember. Gift number …” He pursed his lips, pretending to dial back and count through. A shudder run down his spine as he realised he probably hadn’t even been about to count up how many there’d been then. Mostly bought on credit and leaving him wincing at the bills for months after. ”…twenty-seven. Twenty-six was the couples massage. Bad, bad idea then.” A possibility now though. Stiles pursed his lips, tilting his head for a second to consider it before Lydia was tiptoeing up to kiss him. He grinned into it, letting it spin out for as long as possible. They had all night ahead of them after all.

Well, until dinner was ready. He wasn’t gonna let it burn after all the time it had taken to put it together. The scent of it was already filling the house, setting his stomach to rumbling despite the quake of nerves there. When you pulled out all the stops you had to get a little nervous. Stiles pretend to frown, brows furrowing for a moment before he grinned. ”I did. I considered ordering in some of those noodles you like from the Thai place but this seemed special.” Peeling his hand from her back Stiles held his hand up, wiggling his fingers – all five, thank you very much – in demonstration. ”Didn’t lose a single one. You’re welcome. I figured our first in the apartment … it should be a big deal.” Only Lydia had forgotten.

Stiles winced faintly, hoping he hadn’t poked a sore spot with that but Lydia wasn’t looking mutinous. She kissed him again before she drew away, happy. He puffed up a little with pride, twirling on the spot to grab a vase from the kitchen for the flowers – pretty domestic of him but not the most domesticated thing he’d done today. Looking at her over his shoulder, Stiles clucked his tongue. ”Wouldn’t be a proper Valentine’s day if I made you do all the work. The most you’re gonna have to do tonight is lift a knife and fork. And maybe pour the wine. You wanna do that while I get the food out?” He was already setting the roses in the middle of the table … slightly to the side of the table so they could actually see one another across it. Stiles jammed his hands into oven mitts, lifting the tray of chicken with its shiny coating of marinade out of the stove. A piece placed carefully on each with a scoop of the fancy French potatoes with all the cream and cheese and the steamed veggies on the side. A freaking masterpiece if he said so himself.

Tagged: LYDIA MARTIN * Word Count: 649

Back then. Stiles snorted at Lydia’s words. It felt like a lifetime ago. Maybe it was one, things in Mystic Falls were sure as hell tricksy that way.

In comparison to some of the people they knew their working up to this had happened in the blink of an eye. When you were a 200 year old vampire just dipping your toe into a relationship with an old friend there was a definite sliding scale to the whole thing. When you were a sixteen year old kid seemingly getting tossed aside for an absolute dick who’d just come back from the dead, looking a little like Arnie in Terminator, it felt like you were right at the bottom of it.

Stiles slanted a smile at his girlfriend – take that Jackson – hitched his brows as he wrapped his arms around Lydia’s waist. Times changed, he’d grown, Lydia had finally looked his way like that and everything else was history. ”How ‘bout now? I’m pretty sure I’ve still got the credit. Maybe if there’s a branch out here I can get it transferred and we can work out all that stress.” He pursed his lips thoughtfully, smiling as he dipped deeper into the kiss with Lydia. There wasn’t much tension after that, not in the get the knots out of his shoulders kinda way at least.

After dinner maybe there wouldn’t be any stress left at all. It’d melt away with dinner – the candles, the music playing low, the gifts he was sure as hell not taking back this time around. Slow as molasses, Stiles shuffled back towards the kitchen, drawing Lydia with him. He made a low sound in his throat, narrowing his eyes at her. ”You were gonna though. Or you were just gonna count up when I wasn’t looking.” He swiped a finger across his chest, promising that everything was sanitary, hell, more than sanitary, he’d done one hell of a lot without a whole lot of patience in doing it. ”I even cleaned up after myself. Surprise huh?” Maybe he had used every pan in the kitchen but none of that had to be admitted. It was always the end result that mattered and that was gonna be one hell of a Valentine’s night.

The wine would ease them into it, hopefully ease them away from the table later. Curling up on the sofa with the candles burning in there too, or bypassing that step entirely and heading for their bedroom, not some twin bed in the dorms with the sound of other college students bleeding through the walls. Stiles started to carefully dish up dinner – presentation wasn’t gonna take a nose dive tonight. He stripped off the gloves, carefully carrying both plates back to the table. ”Replace Roscoe? My heart…” Groaning dramatically he clutched for his chest, knowing she was only half kidding. The jeep wasn’t exactly gonna make it to their tenth anniversary, not without slowly morphing into the duct tape mobile. Stiles slipped into his seat, reaching for the gift slowly. ”You didn’t forget,” he said lightly, the grin breaking out wide. Without much finesse he tore the paper open. ”What did you get me? A toy car … a subscription to the gym … don’t tell me it’s a ring …” His mouth was running, the suggestions babbling out of nerves. This was their first proper valentine’s day like this, it meant going all out.

Tagged: LYDIA MARTIN * Word Count: 571

They’d had their distractions after what had been germinating between them had been crushed by Jackson’s bare foot. The nogitsune, checking yourself into a literal psych ward and ordering ghost demon warrior assholes to stab your best friend’s first love – after you’d done a little stabbing yourself. Demons, vampires, vampires who wanted to go back to being hybrids and build themselves an army. Threat after threat, it was no wonder it had taken them as long to crawl back to that seed to nurture it to this point.

Stiles let out a little snort of laughter, meeting Lydia’s suggestion with another kiss. A little smug around the edges, a heat rising up his throat with the dare that shone in Lydia’s hitched brows. He tilted his head, humming lightly. ”That’s the first thing on the list to research tomorrow. It’ll be like a valentine’s day extension.” A treat after the busy start to their year. Getting the apartment, juggling jobs and school and their relationship, stressing about tonight – alright, that might just have been him, but still – just plain stressing. It had professional hands and maybe some of that scented oil – a manly scent of course – sounding damn good. Maybe he should’ve got a little of that for tonight, for after dinner …

Nope. Not a consideration for now, not when there was a chance dinner was gonna burn if he let that train of thought drift off the way it could. He’d worked too hard on all of this to let it become a charcoal briquette. Hours of chopping, preparing, squinting at the video on YouTube. Stiles slanted a smile at Lydia as he stole a peep through the door of the stove – just in case. ”Good, faith makes all the difference in the world.” It wasn’t going to guarantee an edible meal though. He thought it’d turned out pretty well, but it wouldn’t be until Lydia forked up that first mouthful that he was really sure.

He hadn’t noticed Lydia disappearing at first, he was too focused on the plates, on shifting the food to just the spots before he brought the plates over to the table. When he turned though, there was a gift next to her glass. Whiskey coloured eyes flicked from the present up to Lydia’s face and back. Hell, he couldn’t help it, he was kinda intrigued now. It definitely wasn’t the size of a new Jeep, keys maybe, although there wouldn’t have been enough money in the budget for anything that would run any better than Roscoe did (with plenty of help).

Stiles made a doubtful noise as he sat down and reached for his gift. His lips twitched. Lydia was Lydia, it had probably been written in her diary since February 15th last year, the gift purchased months in advance, just waiting. ”No apologies needed,” he promised. He scooted up out of his seat for a moment, pressing his lips to her cheek before he sat back down. ”The wrapping’s appreciated.” There was probably too much tape to his own, but you know, it had been done and that was what had mattered. Maybe he should’ve waited until after they’d eaten, he was already picking at the tape though, stripping it away and forcing himself to open the gift slowly. ”You got me Roscoe?” His brows hitched as he looked up, something squeezing in his chest before he launched himself up again with the key chain clutched in his hand. Lips already curved in a grin pressed to hers. ”It’s better than a new car. Thank you.” He’d hook the car keys to it, a little talisman. They could always do with one after all.

Tagged: LYDIA MARTIN * Word Count: 613

It might just’ve been Stilinski thinking, since they’d never exactly been sitting on a ton of money, not after what had happened with his mom, but love didn’t come with a price tag. It was something so much more. You felt it in your chest when it clicked, you poured yourself into it, you didn’t have to buy it. Not even when you were Jackson Whittemore and probably could’ve done. It wouldn’t have been real though. Throwing money at problems, especially in their world, didn’t make anything go away. Love did.

Stiles felt that bubble of it rise up in his chest as Lydia handed over the gift – not the quiet excuse that she had forgotten it was Valentine’s day he’d kinda expected – and he started unwrapping it. Lydia didn’t forget anything really. She’d probably had the date marked in her rigorously kept schedule for weeks, buying the gift in plenty of time, squirreling it away somewhere in the apartment he hadn’t stumbled over, just slipping at the last minute when a long day had coincided with the holiday. That was totally forgivable, especially when she got him that way.

He wouldn’t have turned his nose up at like a week on a beach somewhere, but that pipe dream only worked if he had Lydia right there next to him. This was … this was a million times better. Whiskey coloured eyes rolled up from the key chain in his hand, then narrowed, humour still glinting behind his lashes. ”Just in case I lose them somewhere?” he asked. When he lost them somewhere – again – and half tore the apartment apart to track them down before he ended up late for work or class. Instead he could wander round the place like Hicks from Aliens, his phone beeping faster and faster until he tracked down where he’d tossed them down the night before. ”You really do think of everything,” he said affectionately. Later he’d pore over the box, figuring out everything this thing could do, but for now he was setting the gift aside, leaning over the table to really thank her for it.

Bouncing back down, it was still kinda hard to hide the grin. Stiles picked up his glass as Lydia did, chinking it against hers carefully – last thing they needed was to be sweeping up glass tonight and paying to replace the wine glasses. ”I love it, and I love you. Happy Valentine’s Day.” Stiles sipped the wine, hummed lightly, not bad considering it wasn’t one of those $200 bottles Lydia’s parents had once hoarded like a dragon hoards gold. Now, if the food was half as good, he was definitely on to a winner.

Setting it back down on the table, Stiles reached for his cutlery. He’d always been able to muscle his way through the basics in the kitchen, had needed to learn to with the hours that his dad had worked, but there was usually an hour’s worth of clean up to handle afterwards. He started cutting into it, scooping up a forkful before he watched Lydia tuck into hers. ”How is it? We gonna need a trip to the emergency room after this?” The joke was punctuated by a chuckle, but what kinda wrap to Valentine’s Day would that be? The worst, he didn’t want to spend the rest of their night together sat in cheap plastic chairs, waiting for some doc to hook them up to an IV that was probably gonna cost them both an entire month’s wages.

Tagged: LYDIA MARTIN * Word Count: 586

There’d never really been the money for big lavish presents – except, of course, when he’d tried to impress Lydia and had ended up paying off a dozen different streams of credit for months because who was meant to remember to return everything that hadn’t been gifted when you were living that Beacon Hills sorta life. His dad had tried his best and he’d never hold it against him, but money was in short supply and he’d been happy to make do. Maybe it left him a little grateful for what he did get, maybe it wasn’t that, but Stiles felt that ridiculous little bubble of happiness over the key chain all the same. Who needed gold and jewels and mansions when you could have this?

He was beaming when he sat down to dig into the meal again. It was half joy at the gift, half pride that he’d pulled all of this off. Years of working their way here and now they had something amazing. Stiles chinked his glass off of Lydia’s, sipping at it like he knew what good wine was honestly meant to taste like. It didn’t taste awful with the food, which was also several steps above awful, he was gonna call that an all around success.

Smirking, Stiles set down his cutlery to pat down his pockets like he was looking for his phone. Even with proof the others weren’t gonna believe he’d pulled it off without help. He could plan the hell out of anything else, but a romantic valentine’s dinner? No freaking way. ”Can I get that on record? You know, just for posterity.” He was pretty sure he wasn’t gonna need it. Times had changed and they were in a place where it wasn’t just good moments together, it was whole strings of good days, ones that made up for those bad ones. Lips pursed, Stiles was gonna scoff at the idea of this being a nightly occurrence, but he stopped. It wasn’t like he wasn’t putting the work in at the apartment. When his dad had worked long, late shifts he’d been the one making sure he ate, the one doing the laundry and the dishes. Maybe he took twice as long as he should’ve done, but he was just heading down the rabbit holes his brain constantly created. ”Just call me Gordon Ramsey,” he quipped. Taking another bite, he marvelled at his own skill, figuring that after Lydia’s next late tutoring session he’d pull off a take two on this.

Both plates were cleared in the end – that should’ve deserved a photo too, since even he hadn’t expected that. Stiles pushed his chair back, watching Lydia start to gather their plates up. He stood, shaking his head as he approached her at the sink. ”They can wait ‘til the morning. You’re not doing the dishes tonight.” Taking her hand slowly, he drew her back towards the living room. Most things people were doing tonight cost a bomb, money poured into the one night of the year when you were supposed to get romantic. One day they’d join them, but for now he twisted, flipping on the stereo and the song he had lined up. ”Dance with me?” he asked. The song had played in snatches in his head for months after their first dance at prom, unforgettable even if Lydia had half broken his heart that night. Now it filled the apartment as he drew her in, his arms sliding around her, his lips finding hers.

Tagged: LYDIA MARTIN * Word Count: 586