Chapter Text
Scott arrives to school at the same time as Stiles on Monday, and watches in muted awe as Lydia gets out from the passenger side.
They approach him, walking together, Stiles beaming. Clearly he’s in a good mood. Scott glances at Lydia; she also seems to be fairly content. Weird. Very weird.
“Morning,” Scott says once they’re close enough to hear. He wants to ask but he doesn’t want to jinx whatever magic Stiles apparently worked to get Lydia to agree to be driven in his Jeep, so he just says, “You seem happy.”
“Oh, I’m over the moon!” Stiles claps a hand on Scott’s shoulder. “It’s a beautiful day. The sun is shining.”
“No it isn’t.”
“The sun is shining somewhere,” Stiles rephrases with a glare, “the birds are singing — somewhere,” when Scott goes to disagree again, “and everything is coming up roses.”
Scott raises an eyebrow, but Stiles’s happiness is infectious. He smiles and turns to Lydia. “Did you drug him?”
“If I had, I would have used a sedative,” Lydia says, rolling her eyes. “He sang along to the radio the entire way here.”
“Only part of the way!” Stiles protests.
“I’m going to start carrying tranquilizers,” Lydia says. “Or duct tape.”
“That hurts me, Lydia. Seriously. Right here.” Stiles thumps his chest.
Scott shakes his head. “Stiles, what’s going on with you?”
“Why do you think something is going on?”
“Well, you’re…” Scott gestures, but can’t bring himself to finish the sentence the way he means to. Happy. Energetic. A lot like old Stiles.
In true Stiles fashion, he understands Scott’s unspoken words. “Why shouldn’t I be?” he says, a hint of a challenge in his voice. “We saved my dad, we stopped the bad guy, we sent the other bad guy packing, and I haven’t had to see Derek in days. My life is better than it’s been in a while.”
“He has a point,” Lydia says, unexpectedly. “All things considered, this ended pretty well.” Which translates to no one else died, and isn’t that depressing.
Lydia’s scent is usually spiked with distaste, disapproval, judgment — things Scott would expect from a literal genius playing dumb. Now, when he inhales experimentally, he gets none of that. Something else is there instead, something floaty and almost sweet. Scott can’t tell what it is, just that it’s different. Gentler. Faint, as if even she doesn’t know she’s feeling it, but undeniably present.
What Scott needs is a scratch-’n’-sniff textbook of emotional scents. That would answer all of his questions.
"We died," he feels it necessary to point out. "We both died, Stiles."
Stiles handwaves him. "Temporarily." And he grins over at Lydia. The faint floaty scent becomes more prominent. “Come on, don’t be such a Debbie Downer. Life is good! Things are good! You’re an alpha, man! You were such a good werewolf that the universe gave you a supernatural upgrade. Be proud.”
It would probably be counterproductive to point out that Scott didn’t ask to be an alpha and still hasn’t decided if he likes that he is one. It would also probably not help to ask if Stiles is feeling the same darkness that weaves its web around Scott’s heart tighter with every passing day. Since coming out of the ice bath, he can’t escape it, but when he looks into Stiles’s grinning face, he feels it a little less.
"Alright, okay," he says. “I guess you do have a point.”
“Yeah, of course I do.”
“As riveting as this has been,” Lydia puts in, “I need to find my physics teacher to discuss an extra credit project. I’ll see you both later.” Touching Stiles’s arm, she says, “Save me a seat at lunch?”
Stiles nods. “And you can meet me at my locker after school.”
Scott gets the feeling he’s missing something. That feeling only intensifies when Lydia’s floaty scent clouds around her, and Scott suddenly figures out what it is.
“Fine, but if I’m waiting for more than five minutes, I’m getting a ride with Allison,” Lydia says, turning away.
“You’re gonna get Allison to drive you to my house? That seems like a serious waste of her time!” Stiles calls after her.
Lydia doesn’t answer, but Scott hears her quiet chuckle even when she’s halfway down the hall.
“She’s going home with you?” he asks, knitting his brow.
Stiles nods. “Helping me study. I am seriously on the brink of failing precalc.”
“She’s coming over after school to help you study ,” Scott repeats back, pointedly. “I’ve heard that one before.”
Stiles looks at Scott and snorts incredulously. “Dude, this is so far from you and Allison it’s not even funny.”
“Okay, but— something is different,” Scott says, watching Lydia’s retreating back askance. “She’s definitely different around you.” He pauses, debating, and finally shares what he’s learned: “I think she likes you, Stiles.”
Stiles laughs as they reach his locker. “Yeah, that’s the most likely explanation. You’re a werewolf, there’s a magic tree stump in our forest, and you and I literally died and came back to life, but yeah, Lydia’s acting different because she likes me. Makes total sense.”
“I’m serious,” Scott insists. “She likes you.”
He hadn’t been able to place the scent coming off Lydia because he’s never smelled it on her before. Not just arousal, but…affection. Adoration. Almost love. A cocktail of emotions which, taken together, can only mean one thing.
Now that he’s identified it, he knows he’s right. Which means Stiles should be jumping for joy.
Instead he just sighs. Some of his cheery affect even seems to deflate. “Yeah, I know,” he says. “But whatever, you know?”
Scott genuinely almost falls to the floor.
“What do you mean, you know? You know Lydia likes you?”
“Scott, I’ve been looking for the slightest hint of reciprocity since long before she even knew who I was. Don’t you think I would notice the second actual reciprocation occurred? Give me some credit.”
Scott gapes. “Then do something! Stiles, this is Lydia. Girl you’ve been in love with since the third grade Lydia? If you know—” A thought strikes him. “You…you do still like her, right?”
Stiles rolls his eyes and continues to dig through his locker. “Does the earth revolve around the sun? Yes, Scott, I still like her.”
“But…” Scott frowns. These puzzle pieces won’t fit together no matter how many ways he turns them. “Then why aren’t you doing something about it?”
“Because,” Stiles says dispassionately, “it’s not just my choice. And if she wanted something to happen, she’d do something. Not like my feelings are a well-kept secret, Scotty. Trust me, if Lydia wanted anything more out of this relationship, she’d already have it.”
“But she does,” Scott presses. “I can tell.”
Stiles shuts his locker with force and turns to face Scott. “You can only tell what she feels,” he counters. “Not what she wants, or thinks she wants, or is willing to do.”
“Stiles—”
“Scott.” Stiles nods meaningfully at something. Scott turns in the direction he’d indicated and sees Lydia, leaning against the wall of lockers down the hall with Aiden leaning over her. She doesn’t make any move to get away. In fact, she’s smiling as she pats his chest.
“I so appreciate you looking out for me, I do,” Stiles says solemnly. “But I’m right about this. And I’m fine. Really.”
Scott wrinkles his nose. He feels creepy watching Lydia and Aiden, so he turns back to Stiles. “I just want you to be happy.”
Stiles looks over at Lydia again, and this time she’s looking back. She gives them — or maybe just Stiles — a small smile and a smaller wave, both of which Stiles gamely returns.
“I’m happy,” he promises, facing Scott again. “I’m happy with the way things are. And hey, if they change, I’ll be stoked then too, but if not, I’m okay with that.” He chuckles. “She let me drive her to school today, Scott. In my Jeep. Frankly, it would be greedy to ask for more than that."
“That is definite progress,” Scott has to agree. “But since when are you so wise about girls?”
They fall into step in the direction of homeroom. “Everything I know I learned from Han Solo."
Scott frowns. “I thought Yoda was the wise one.”
“Yeah, but Han Solo is— he has the— you don’t know the line?” Stiles looks affronted. “‘I love you,’ ‘I know’?”
Scott squints and shakes his head.
“You are literally hopeless,” Stiles says with a huff. “I seriously don’t know how we’re still friends.”