#LHAW17

[thedaughterofkings]

ceo of matchmaking

It’s the last day of the @laurahale-appreciation week and today it’s the Dealer’s Choice, and because I can’t resist a chance to remind fandom of Neckz’N’Throats and how there totally should be more Neckz’N’Throats fic, have almost 2k of Neckz’N’Throats fic with matchmaking CEO Laura (and Sterek of course). Happy reading!

Laura loves her job.

She’s one of the youngest CEO’s in the country, possibly even the whole world. She runs one of the most successful werewolf magazine - and yes, some might call Neckz’N’Throats a skin mag, but it really is so much more than that and Laura has worked tirelessly to get it recognised as a respectable piece of journalism. Sure, the name still says it all - they show a lot of necks and throats, tastefully photographed to the maximum enjoyment of their mostly werewolf audience, but Laura takes pains to ensure that the pages of her magazine are not filled with blank faces and dead eyes. Her models are paid adequately, with all the insurances and securities necessary, and if there’s even the slightest hint that someone is not there just because they enjoy being photographed, Laura steps in and tries to figure out an arrangement that’s beneficial to both parties. It has worked well enough so far and has given her a reputation of being a fair and respectful employer that she’s proud of and strives to keep up.

Neckz’N’Throats did start out with just what it says on the tin: vulnerable necks and throats on display, meant to titillate and excite, but Laura has dared to branch out from that. She has introduced models from all kinds of backgrounds, aiming for diversity in all aspects, be it size, colour, or species. Then she started shooting couples - mated ones tend to be more popular, that special connection even shining through the glossy pages of a spread. Her most popular pair so far are Lydia Martin and Jackson Whittemore. Lydia started shooting for Neckz’N’Throats first, her lily white neck ticking every box on most hot blooded werewolves.

Not that Laura would know, being ace has both its advantages and disadvantages when heading a skin mag. On the one hand she still doesn’t quite get what “sexy” is even supposed to mean though she’s fared well enough in that respect by hiring models because of aesthetics and charisma - and employing actual hot blooded werewolves to advise her. On the other hand she is never ever tempted to leer at her employees creepily - and sadly enough that still seems to be a stand alone feature in her profession.

Either way, Laura hires Lydia because she exudes self-confidence and makes it clear right there in her job interview that this is just a way to have fun and earn easy money while she’s working to become the youngest recipient ever of the Field’s Medal. Laura is instantly charmed and her readers are too; Lydia’s editions regularly need to be reprinted because the demand is so high. That only gets worse - or better if you ask Laura and her wallet - when Lydia gets her then boyfriend Jackson to join her. Together they are the two main faces representing Neckz’N’Throats to the public, aside from Laura of course.

Lydia and Jackson are also the two main models in the spread that wins Laura her first Pulitzer Prize - focused on portraying non-traditional mating pairs. The picture of Lydia standing over Jackson, whose neck was clearly on display was perfectly innocent by human standards, but caused an uproar in the were community that Laura didn’t expect to be that strong herself.

It’s not all mated couples and shaking up traditional values (though the pearl clutches don’t read her magazine anyways, so Laura has no qualms about keeping up the shaking up in the future), though, getting to shoot a pair that has only just met and is still figuring out how to interact, still more or less fighting it out for dominance right there on the page can be fun, too, and creates great sales figures, too.

“It’s the thrill of the hunt,” Peter loves to say, smarmy grin firmly in place, and that’s why they don’t let him out of his cave. With his cave being a veritable mansion that pretty young people love to be invited to, Peter sadly doesn’t mind much. And he writes the best articles, Laura has to grudgingly admit. Somehow all that smarm doesn’t translate to the page and the fact that he never leaves his house just adds to the intrigue and helps further the sales of her magazine, so Laura just makes sure he doesn’t act out too much and lets him have his fun otherwise.

She’s more worried about Derek anyways.

Unlike Cora, who is still off finding herself in South America - at least she sends postcards now, Laura would prefer not having to hunt down her wayward sister again, just because she forgot to let any of them know she’s still alive for half a year - Derek works for Neckz’N’Throats, too. Sadly enough not in front of the camera, because Laura knows number of subscriptions would jump up tremendously if he ever appeared on the glossy pages, but behind it. And really, Laura can’t complain, something about Derek’s looks compared with his glower and ‘fuck if I care’ attitude gets the best pictures out of her models. She suspects that it’s a knock to the ego for all of these beautiful, charismatic people that Derek basically comes in, takes his pictures, and leaves again. And so they all try to get a rise out of him by any means possible. But no one has had any success yet, and at the end of each work day Derek disappears into his cave again - a loft in his case, wonderfully light, and airy, and openspaced, but Laura guesses that doesn’t matter if you never have anyone over who can look from the kitchen through the living room straight into your bedroom.

Enter Stiles Stilinski.

Lydia is the one who brings him, more or less forcing Laura to call him in for an interview, despite him having no experience and no portfolio at all. But the moment Stiles comes in through the door, Laura makes a mental note to never doubt Lydia again.

Because Stiles? Is perfect werewolf bait.

He has a long vulnerable neck and he keeps tilting his head back to laugh and it makes even Laura want to bite him - and she hasn’t struggled with her control in years. His doe eyes almost glow beta golden and there’s a twinkle of mischief in them that promises a good time to be had by all. His hair is messy and just the right length to bury your hand in and tug, to tilt his head back further and really put that throat on display. The series of moles that marks his skin is just begging to be licked, and if Laura notices all of that being ace, she doesn’t even want to try imagining what every even slightly male orientated werewolf thinks seeing Stiles.

She’s tempted to hire him on the spot, but as Derek is the one who’ll have to photograph him, he gets the final call. Usually that meeting boils down to a handshake, a hard stare, and either a nod or a shake of the head, and then that’s settled. This time, Derek starts with a wide eyed stare which quickly transforms into a vicious glare that would make anyone sensible duck and run. Stiles just grins though and starts forward towards Derek, all the while saying: “Hi, you must be Derek, Lydia already told me how much of a sourwolf you are!” Laura is already saying goodbye to her dream circulation which she’s sure they could have reached with this guy on the front, but no way is Derek going to agree to shoot him now.

But then Stiles stretches out his hand towards Derek, palm up, so the vulnerable inside of his arm is on display and tilts his head aside in blatant submission. And Laura can see Derek’s nostrils flare and the electric glow of his eyes flashing for just a moment even though he ducks his head to hide it and thinks: “Oh.”

Through it all Stiles remains seemingly oblivious, chattering on about how he admires their stance on werewolf rights and their attempts to clear up old superstitions and preconceptions. He also compliments Derek’s work and how he doesn’t photograph a mere canvas, the outside of a person, but their inner, hidden soul. Derek stares at Stiles with the most obvious hearteyes Laura has ever seen in her life (though given the ratio of eyebrow to rest of face that Derek has, the hearteyes still look rather glowery), and Laura wonders how Stiles doesn’t see the effect he’s having, but he just keeps talking and waving his arms around, spreading his scent and to some extent he has to know what he’s doing, because that greeting was automatic and instinctive, not studied. But on the other hand he seems to be completely oblivious to everything else he’s doing - that is push every single button Derek has in the best way possible.

Eventually Laura can’t bear to watch the awkward flirting - oblivious on the one side, reluctant, but helpless not to, on the other side. So Laura coughs and bites back a smirk when they both startle and blush, obviously having forgotten she’s in the room, too.

“Well?” she asks and Derek clears his throat and finally steps away from Stiles, muttering gruffly: “We’ll be out again in a moment and will let you know our decision then.” Laura can’t help raising her brows in surprise because that is not how they usually do it. But she decides to wait and see what Derek’s plan is and follows him out of the room with a wink and a smile to Stiles, who waves back at her awkwardly and blushes even brighter.

“So what do you say?” Laura asks as soon as the door falls shut behind them, secure in the knowledge that Stiles doesn’t have werewolf hearing. “I think he’d make a great addition to our team - he’s unbonded, so no mate to shoot with him yet, but I think Boyd or Isaac or perhaps even Erica would make a great match for him and produce some great pictures.”

“No!” Derek exclaims and Laura has to bite back a laugh because he has walked right into her trap. “What? You don’t like him?” she asks innocently and Derek shakes his head vehemently: “No, I just meant - no couple shoots for him, unless …” and here he descends into barely audible mumbling, though Laura can guess what he’s saying. Still, a prerogative of being the big sister is teasing her younger brother, so she asks sweetly: “Sorry, I didn’t get that?”

“No couple shoots unless they are with me,” Derek bites out and that’s how Stiles Stilinski ends up with a clause in his contract with Neckz’N’Throats that as good as declares him and Derek Hale mates.

Now Derek only needs to actually ask him out.

Laura totally believes in her brother. And while he’s still gathering his courage, she’ll sit back and enjoy the awkward attempts at flirting. They’ll get there eventually. Laura will make sure of it - by scheduling as many couple shoots for the two of them as is necessary. And because Derek obviously can’t take the pictures if he’s in front of the camera, Laura will be so kind and take the time out of her busy schedule to be their photographer. And if she makes them cuddle and kiss then that will be for purely artistic reasons. Obviously.

Laura loves her job.

[originfire]

Laura Hale Appreciation Week Day 2 + 7: Alpha Laura + Dealer’s Choice: No Hale Fire AU

After Laura saw Derek and Kate together she knew that something needed to be done. She went to her mother with the information, but found herself humiliated by her mother in front of the pack elders.

Angry but unwilling to let any harm come to her family, Laura set out to destroy the threat and unknowingly proved herself worthy of becoming the next Hale Alpha - stealing Talia’s alpha powers in the process.

[fishcommander]

Hope Locked In My Throat (Sterek Fic)

For the Laura Hale Appreciation Week, day 7! I’m a little late, but hopefully not too late.

5+1 things, pining Derek, supportive Laura. ~5.6k words, rated T. 

-1-

"Dude," says Laura, dropping her tray on the table and settling opposite Derek in the booth. "Lil human cutie is giving you the eye." She nods somewhere behind Derek, and smirks. "You should go for it, he's just your type."

"Absolutely not," Derek says calmly. He pulls out his own lunch, a saran-wrapped chicken breast and spinach sandwich he brought from the deli next door, and starts unwrapping it. He doesn't turn around. "I'm not consorting with anyone who a) uses McDonald's as a hunting ground for dates and b) volunteers to actually eat at McDonald's."

"You're consorting with me," she points out, through a mouthful of fries. "And that's way worse, I can smell all the gross crap they put in these things but I eat it anyway." She shoves her burger in her mouth and rips off a whole third, chewing with her mouth open.

Derek shrugs. He picks up a wedge of his sandwich, already quartered, and takes a small bite. "If I could choose, I wouldn't have you as a sister. But I can't. That's the point of family."

Laura ignores him, still watching the random guy. "Do you think he's coming to PAWS?"

One of Derek's claws pops and tears a hole through his bread. He feigns calm, like Laura's stupid acronym doesn't piss him off. Like Laura isn't intimately familiar with what pisses him and isn't saying it on purpose. "He's human," Derek points out. "He's probably just having lunch."

"The hotel's right over the street though, and his friend smells wolfy." She shoves the rest of her burger into her mouth and stands up. "That's it, I'm asking him."

Derek panics and grabs her arm. "Sit down!" he hisses, yanking her back into her seat. "You can not just approach random humans in fast food restaurants and ask if they're going to the Pan-American Werewolf Summit!"

"You could just ask the wolfy friend," someone says, but it's not from anywhere close—it's from behind Derek. He slowly turns to see the guys Laura must have been talking about, grinning and waving obnoxiously from their table a few feet away. Derek ducks back down before he can really see what either of them look like. "Stiles says to ask if you're the— Stiles, I'm not asking tha— oh my god, ow okay! God! He wants to know if you're the Hottie Hales from New York."

Laura's face breaks into a huge smirk. "Oh, this is going to be magnificent."

Read more on AO3!

[clotpolesonly]

Double Down

for @laurahale-appreciation week, day 3: Hale Twins!!!

also on AO3

Laura and Derek were not identical twins by any stretch of the imagination. Technically, obviously, there was the whole separate eggs thing, but also just the fact that Laura was four inches shorter despite her sixteen extra minutes of life and had long hair and boobs and such. She and Derek were the kind of twins that never had to worry about getting mixed up.

But that only applied to their human forms. The full shift, that amazing feat of biological mysticism that ran almost exclusively in their family line, was another matter entirely. Once the fur was on, Laura and Derek became nearly indistinguishable wolves, the same height and bulk, the same grey fur so dark it was almost black, even the same patch of white above their left eye. The two of them had gotten up to plenty of mischief as cubs, determined to take full advantage of their twinness for once; they’d nearly driven the rest of the family to distraction with all their ridiculous hijinks!

Yes, Laura loved that she and her brother could switch places so convincingly. Until such times as this.

“You want me to what?”

“Just go hang out with Stiles in my place for a little while,” Derek repeated. He was leaning against Laura’s bedpost, interrupting her study time, and his face was very close to pleading. “It’s not like it’s that much of a hardship, is it? You like Stiles!”

“Pretty sure you’re the one who likes Stiles,” Laura reminded him, giving him a flat look over the top of the open textbook in her hands. She expected her brother to roll his eyes, throw his hands up, argue or even deny it like he had done so many times in the past. This time though he just let himself tip over until he fell flat across her bed—and her notebook, and her legs—and let out a groan.

“I do,” he said miserably. “I really, really do. Which is why you have to do this for me.”

“I am missing a step in your thought process,” Laura said, seriously considering dropping the textbook on Derek’s face. It would probably break his nose, but that would heal in a few minutes so it might be worth the blood stains on her bedspread.

Derek groaned again. “I’m supposed to hang out with Stiles and his friends at the park today,” he told her. “But mom says I have to clean out the garage instead. She used her alpha eyes and everything! I can’t go, so you have to go for me.”

“Why don’t you just tell Stiles why you can’t make it, you dingbat?” Laura asked, dropping the book on Derek’s stomach instead. He oophed and flicked her the bird.

“It’s such a fake excuse!” he said.

“It’s not fake if it’s true!”

“But it sounds like it’s fake,” Derek argued. He rolled onto his side to face her, once again disrupting her study materials. “Laura, I really like Stiles. Like, really. I don’t want him thinking that I’m blowing him off or flaking out on him.”

Damn it, he had the sad eyes going on, and they didn’t even look like the fake ones they both pulled out when they needed a favor. These were real sad eyes. Probably because Derek was still a little tender from the messy breakup with Paige that had broken his heart so thoroughly. It had been well over a year since then and people still gossipped about it in the halls at school like total dicks. They were half the reason Derek had been so reluctant to start dating again, but then came Stiles and suddenly Derek was laughing and smiling at his text messages and being a total heart-eyes goober.

“What would I even do?” Laura asked, resigning herself to the absolute fact that her brother was going to get what he wanted. “I mean, were you planning on hanging out with him in full shift all day? Is he not gonna be suspicious that you never shift back?”

Derek sat up, sad eyes magically transformed into hopeful eyes as soon as he heard her resolve cracking.

“Stiles loves my full shift!” he said earnestly. “It’s not like he needs another person to carry on a conversation anyway. He’s more than capable of talking for hours on his own. That’s part of what makes us so perfect for each other. And besides—”

He broke off, biting his lip and shrugging in a way that was probably supposed to be innocent but actually set off every alarm bell in Laura’s mind.

“What?” she asked, wary.

“Well, Stiles has been trying to convince me to...play catch with him?” Derek said slowly, like that might make it better.

“Derek!” Laura cried, yanking a pillow out from behind her so she could hit him with it. “You want me to play fetch with your boyfriend?”

Derek didn’t even bother dodging the pillow attack, just shielding his head and weathering the onslaught because he knew he deserved it.

“He’s not my boyfriend!” he said. “At least not yet, and not ever if he convinces himself I don’t like him because I keep finding excuses not to hang out with him. And it won’t be fetch, okay? Probably frisbee! You like playing frisbee!”

“Ooh, you are going to owe me so much for this, baby brother,” Laura growled. “So much.”

Normally, the full shift was a source of total joy for Laura, a way to slough off all the worries and stress of human life in favor of something so much simpler. It was freedom, it was power, it was unity with nature, it was the opportunity to exist outside of expectations. In short, she absolutely loved being a wolf.

Not today though. Today she was feeling distinctly petulant as she shucked off her clothes in the backseat of the Camaro she shared with her stupid brother and let her body rearrange itself. Once she had all four furry legs in place, she clambered over into the front seat again, pawed at the mechanism until the door opened, and jumped out to let the door shut behind her again. With one final full-body shake, she set off toward the middle of the park at a half-hearted trot.

According to Derek, he was supposed to meet Stiles and a few of his friends under the big tree where the good benches were at two o’clock. It was currently quarter past, but considering she was doing him a hell of a favor here and doing so under protest, Laura couldn’t be bothered to move any faster. If she was late then she was late and Stiles could read into it whatever motives he saw fit.

He didn’t seem worried though. When Stiles caught sight of Laura’s approaching form, he stood up from where he’d been lying flat on his back on one of those benches and started waving enthusiastically.

“Derek!” he called. “Hey, big guy! You’re looking especially furry today. Did you do something with your hair?”

Laura huffed and rolled her eyes but padded in his direction anyway. She let Stiles run a hand over her head because that’s what Derek would do, and apparently Stiles knew about that spot she and Derek both had right behind their ear that always felt embarrassingly good to have scratched, so that was a thing. Stiles was beaming down at her with that bright grin of his, looking absurdly pleased at his own petting skills. If Laura were in a less grouchy mood, she might think it was cute.

“The others are gonna be here in a few,” Stiles said, plopping back down on the bench and digging through the backpack leaned up against the side. “Then we’re all gonna play frisbee together! You gonna stay in your fur? Finally show me what you got?”

Laura made a noncommittal noise and laid down in the grass instead. There were people all around, a couple of kids on a playdate and another group of teenagers doing homework in the sun, and no matter what she had promised Derek, Laura was really not up for being a spectacle. Werewolves in general may have been par for the course around Beacon Hills, but the full shift was so rare that it always drew attention. A wolf playing frisbee? She’d draw a crowd for sure. Derek may have been willing to suffer through the ordeal to impress Stiles, but Laura wasn’t half that smitten with him.

“Aw, c’mon,” Stiles said, sliding down to sit cross-legged in front of her and reaching for the ear spot again. “Not up for it? I guess we could lounge around in the shade instead, that works too. I’m a little tired anyway. I actually made it onto the field at practice today! Got creamed by Jackson, big surprise there, but I still got to play for real and that’s always a good day in my book.”

Derek was right: Stiles did not need anyone else to participate in order to hold a conversation. Really, Laura didn’t mind. She just closed her eyes and let Stiles’ voice fade into background noise. It occurred to her that, if she was a really good sister, she could be paying at least some attention to what Stiles was saying in the interest of relaying it back to Derek so that when he talked to Stiles later, it looked like he listened when Stiles talked. But that was a whole lot of effort to go to when it was mostly lacrosse babble anyway.

The sun was warm where it made its way through the canopy of leaves, the grass was cool and soft beneath her, and Laura could admit that there were worse ways to spend her afternoon. Even if she was pretending to be her stupid brother and letting his crush idly pet her while he rambled about his day. Laura was well on her way to falling asleep by the time she heard footsteps and caught a very familiar scent on the breeze. Her eyes snapped open in alarm.

“We’ve arrived,” said Lydia, taking a seat on the bench that Stiles had vacated and letting her book-filled purse clunk down on the ground.

“Allison’s right behind us,” said Cora.

Cora who was Lydia’s girlfriend. Cora who was also Laura’s little sister. Cora who was one of the few people in the world who could reliably tell Laura and Derek apart even in wolf form. Cora who was sitting at Lydia’s side and glancing down at Laura and frowning and opening her mouth like she was going to question what the hell she was doing here—

“Hey, guys! Sorry I’m late!”

A girl came jogging up to them, long dark curls swinging out behind her and bringing with her a wave of some sort of light, floral, utterly delicious scent. She was smiling, showing off white teeth and dimples like Laura had never seen and was it really fair for someone to have dimples like that and smell so good at the same time?

“Hey, Ally,” Stiles said with a grin and a wave. “Glad you could make it. Der, this is Allison. She’s new in town, gonna be at school with us starting next week. And Allison, this big furball here is Derek, Cora’s big brother.” He gave Laura’s head another scratch.

On the one hand, the new girl was fucking beautiful and smiling down at her with the kind of wonder and curiosity that everyone displayed upon meeting a rare full shift werewolf for the first time. On the other hand, Cora was squinting back and forth between Laura and Stiles, clearly wondering what the fuck and why and if she should call bullshit. When Allison knelt down in the grass to be on Laura’s level, all sunshiny smiles and flowers, Laura threw in the metaphorical towel and shot Cora a pleading look to keep her mouth shut.

“Hi, Derek,” Allison said. “It’s nice to meet you.” She bit her lip, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve, uh...never met someone who could shift like this,” she admitted. “Is it...I don’t know, rude to ask if I can pet you? You just look really soft, but I don’t want to offend you or anything.”

You can pet me all day long, Laura thought.

Cora snorted almost like she had heard that thought loud and clear. Of course she did, the little traitor; she knew damn well what Laura’s type was and that Allison checked every box on the list. “Yeah, Derek,” she said, heavy emphasis on the wrong name. “How do you feel about that?”

A hand ruffled Laura’s fur, but it wasn’t Allison’s.

“Derek may have big teeth,” Stiles said on a laugh, “but he’s a giant softie once you get to know him. He’s much less likely to take your hand off at the wrist than he looks, in both wolf and human forms.”

Allison still waited until Laura gave her a nod before she reached out. Her fingers were long and slender, and they felt fantastic running through the thick fur around Laura’s neck. If she’d been a cat, Laura would’ve purred. Instead she just pushed into the motion, damn near nuzzling against her hand and preening at the quiet awestruck noise Allison made.

“Are we playing frisbee or what?” Lydia asked, either entirely unaware of the weird tensions playing out before her or deliberately ignoring them. Both options were equally likely with her. “It’s that or calculus homework.”

Stiles leapt to his feet, frisbee already in hand. “Fuck calculus!” he said. “You gonna join us, Ally?”

“Oh, I didn’t dress for sports,” Allison said, gesturing to her short skirt and bare legs. “I think I’ll just watch.”

“Suit yourself,” Stiles said with a shrug. “Derek, how about it? Two on two, you and me against Lydia and Cora?”

It was practically a couples’ match, and Derek would no doubt be thrilled with the implication if he were here. He would kill Laura if she didn’t do this for him, if she turned Stiles down and sat out like she’d been intending to.

Laura found herself looking back at Allison, who was clearly preparing to cheerlead with the best of them. Suddenly a little showing off didn’t seem like such a bad idea anymore. Laura got to her feet, stretched out and gave herself a shake, then yipped. Stiles whooped and punched the air, leading the charge onto the open grass.

The game was actually pretty fun, even with the oohs and ahs of all the random people who gathered to watch. Laura got to run and leap and flip and play in a way she rarely had the opportunity to do nowadays. Stiles was a pretty decent partner too. He might not have the best balance in the world, but he had damn good aim and was totally willing to peg Cora in the face without remorse.

Cora, for her part, didn’t go to full shift but still employed every bit of werewolf strength and agility she possessed to match Laura move for move where the acrobatics were concerned. And Lydia, the undisputed queen of geometry and physics, somehow managed to bean both her opponents with one throw by letting the frisbee ricochet off of Stiles’ shoulder right into Laura’s stomach. Twice.

All the while, Allison cheered. She ripped a piece of paper out of one of Lydia’s notebooks and made it into a scoreboard, keeping a running tally of the number of missed catches, interceptions, and direct torso hits. She held it up over her head and played at being the referee. She even gave Stiles a penalty for the face shot, which he moaned and groaned about before finally conceded to.

But most gratifying of all were the gasps and squeaks she made whenever Laura did something really impressive. Those made it really hard to remember that she was supposed to be here flirting with Stiles for her brother’s sake. Right now, Allison thought she was Derek. Hell, Stiles thought she was Derek, so clearly Laura could not go around flirting with his friend and making him think that Derek was more interested in her than in him.

Allison was so fucking cute though.

This was not fair and Derek owed her so goddamn much.

     Stiles was trying to rally them all for a tie breaker match—they were stuck at twelve wins each, but apparently twenty-fifth time was the charm—when Laura heard a whistle. It was distant enough that the humans didn’t notice it, but it was loud and clear in Laura’s ears and distinctive enough that she turned toward it automatically. She and Derek had been using that particular whistle since they were little kids, usually as a way of kickstarting pranks or of alerting each other when an adult was coming and they should hide what they were doing and look innocent ASAP.

Now Laura turned away from where Stiles and Lydia were bickering and loped off toward the stand of trees on the far side of the grass, on the opposite side from parking lot where most people never bothered to go. Sure enough, Derek was there, far enough from the treeline that the others couldn’t see him. He had a bundle of clothes under his arm.

“How’s it going so far?” he asked as soon as she was within hearing range. “Did you get made?”

Laura shifted back to human form. She didn’t reach for the clothes he’d brought her though, not yet. Unconcerned by her nakedness when she could hear anyone approaching long before they could see it, she just crossed her arms over her chest, her long-forgotten annoyance with the whole situation flaring up again.

“Not by Stiles,” she said. “But Cora certainly figured it out pretty fast. You didn’t tell me Cora was gonna be here, dummy!”

“Cora?” Derek repeated, far more horrified by his little sister’s attendance at the day’s events than by his twin’s nudity; it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen it a million and a half times before. “I didn’t know she was coming! Stiles just said some friends, not which ones! Who else is it?”

“Lydia and Allison.”

“Who’s Allison?” Derek asked, frowning.

“Just some new girl in town.” Laura tried to be nonchalant about it, but there was no hiding the way her heartbeat picked up and no doubt in her mind that her chemosignals were giving her away one way or another too. “We’ve been playing frisbee. You’re welcome, by the way. You and Stiles against Lydia and Cora, and you’re tied.”

Just as she’d predicted, Derek’s face lit up at those pairings. “Really? You’re the best, Laur!” He held out the clothes to her with one hand, already shrugging out of his jacket with the other, and said, “Quick, let’s do the switch before we’re gone too long and Stiles comes looking.”

Laura hesitated, glancing back over her shoulder toward where she could just barely see the others through the trees. Allison looked to be playing mediator to some argument between the self-appointed team captains, but she was laughing so it wasn’t anything serious. Laura strained her ears to hear that laugh and it was every bit as musical as she would have predicted.

“Laura?” Derek asked impatiently. “What’re you doing? C’mon!”

“I don’t want to switch back.”

The words came out of her mouth before she’d thought them through, before she’d even realized them herself. Derek stared at her.

“What?” he demanded. “What do you mean, you don’t want to—”

His eyes narrowed, scrutinizing her in that scarily acute way he got once in a blue moon when he decided he suddenly wanted to be observant. Laura couldn’t help the way she flushed, and she cursed herself for being so transparent.

“You’re crushing on that Allison girl,” he said, practically an accusation. “I can’t believe you! I ask you for one favor, one favor: to help me win over Stiles. And you turn around and fawn all over some random girl instead! You’ve probably ruined any chance I had with him!”

“I did not!” Laura hissed at him. “I have made nice with Stiles all afternoon, thank you very much. But excuse me for having romantic interests too.”

“You can pursue your romantic interests later,” Derek said stubbornly. “We had a deal.”

“No, I was doing you a favor,” Laura countered. “Which means that I set the terms, and I say that—”

A loud groan cut her off and Laura almost gave herself whiplash trying to cover up before she realized it was just Cora, leaning up against a nearby tree and rolling her eyes hard enough that it probably hurt.

“Why can’t you two losers date your own friends instead of perving on mine?” Cora asked waspishly.

“It’s not our fault all your friends are cooler than you are,” Laura said. “If you don’t want us dating them, then stop having such datable friends.”

“You guys are idiots.” With one last rueful shake of her head, Cora headed back the way she’d come. “They do know you’re twins, you know,” she called back. “You could both just come out.”

Laura finally snatched the clothes out of Derek’s hand with a huff of aggravation, only to scowl at them as soon as she’d shaken them out.

“I can’t go back out there in these!” she cried, eyeing the jeans and blouse with distaste. “Why couldn’t you bring me something cute? Or at least worth being seen in?”

Derek snorted, tugging his jacket back on. “Well, I wasn’t aware you were going to be out to impress anyone.”

Before Laura could retort, Cora was shouting at them:

“Would you two just come out already? I already told them everything because you were taking too damn long!”

Laura cursed up a storm, already thinking up the most creatively heinous ways she could get back at Cora while simultaneously considering making a break for the car. Instead she pulled on the frumpy mom jeans and not-exactly-clean, from-the-bottom-of-her-closet blouse and trying fruitlessly to make sure her hair was something other than a bird’s nest. Derek hadn’t brought her any shoes, the asshole.

Everyone looked a little awkward when she and Derek made it back to the bench under the big tree where they were all seated, except for Cora who looked like she was enjoying this immensely. Laura shoved her hands in her pockets and fought the urge to snarl at her.

“Okay, so I’m confused,” Stiles admitted, looking back and forth between the twins and Cora. “Laura, I’d say it’s nice to see you but apparently I’ve been seeing you. All day. You and not Derek, whom I thought you were, and whom you let me think you were. Why exactly?”

“Because Derek’s crushing on you hardcore, and he didn’t want you thinking he was turning you down just because mom made him clean out the garage,” Laura said promptly. Derek punched her hard in the shoulder, but the blush on his cheeks was practically luminescent so there was no point in denying it.

Stiles blushed too, staring at Derek with wide eyes. He cleared his throat. “That’s an interesting way of going about things,” he said slowly.

“Yeah, well, Laura was the one who was going to keep pretending with it just so she could keep making goo goo eyes at Allison,” Derek said because apparently, if he was going to suffer, then she was going to suffer too. She punched him back twice as hard, hard enough to earn an actual ow.

“And to think,” Lydia said dryly, “I almost didn’t come out today because I thought it was going to be boring. Silly me.”

Most of Laura sort of wanted to burrow underground and disappear forever, but the little part of her that was more curious than cowardly and humiliated insisted she look up. Allison’s cheeks were stained a pretty pink, one glossy lip caught in her teeth. She was looking at Laura, but she ducked her head as soon as she caught Laura looking back.

“So you two look the same as wolves?” she asked.

“Yeah, it’s, uh...it’s a thing,” Laura said lamely. “Always been a thing. Twin thing, I guess.” So lame, wow. She blamed the mom jeans. No one could be suave and charismatic while wearing mom jeans.

Allison smiled though. “You look so different like this, though,” she said. “And yet your wolves are identical? How does that work?”

“How does any of it work, really?” Laura responded with a shrug and a raised eyebrow.

Allison laughed and it was every bit as wonderful as the last time. “Touché!”

“I guess we can all brainstorm our theories on the matter over dinner,” Stiles said, gesturing expansively.

“Dinner?” Derek asked.

“Yeah,” Stiles said easily. “Or bowling maybe. Bowling seems like a good double date activity. Triple date, even!”

“Oh no, leave us out of it,” Lydia said immediately.

“Yeah, I don't wanna be seen in public with these two morons,” Cora agreed.

“Wait, did you say date?” Derek cut in, his grouchy defensiveness already falling away to show the hope underneath it. “Like, real date?”

“Thought that might be more fun for us than the fake kind,” Stiles said, a bright grin already overtaking his face despite his attempts at being casual about it. He leaned over to nudge Allison and said, “How about you, Ally? You up for a date with the lovely lady?”

Laura’s heart did a backflip off her ribs, followed promptly by a swan dive into her stomach that would make olympic judge proud. She swallowed hard and tried to keep her claws from popping out of sheer nerves as she waited for Allison to say something.

There was a moment where Allison’s mouth opened and closed a few times, too caught off guard to form words. And then she was smiling, that bright smile with the white teeth and the dimples, and she said, “I could be up for that. But only if bowling’s still on the table as an activity.”

Laura beamed back at her. “Bowling’s good,” she said. “I love bowling.”

“You haven’t been bowling since we were nine,” Derek reminded her. She stepped on his foot.

“Shut up,” she said, still grinning determinedly. “I love bowling.”

Allison laughed again, harder this time than before. Her nose crinkled up when she laughed like that. It was fucking adorable. For all that the whole day had been strange and awkward and embarrassing, it was worth it just for that. Maybe Laura was the one who owed Derek. Just a little bit.

[poetry-protest-pornography]

Learning Curve

Laura smoothed her skirt one last time, chasing away an imaginary wrinkle as she glanced at the clock. Again.

Her papers were perfectly arranged, the new markers for the whiteboard lined up in a neat row, and her lecture notes were typed in 14 point Garamond for easy perusal. She was ready. She was going to prove that she could finish her Master's degree and learn how to lead the pack when her mom is ready to step down. Prove that there's certainly no need for Peter to take any of the responsibilities meant for the Alpha-elect; she'll do it all just fine.

The creak of the door opening startles Laura out of her musings, she's a little ashamed to note that her claws have come out. The first students start filing in, claiming seats in the small lecture hall and conversing quietly among themselves as they settle in. She can’t help but smile at the small nods of acknowledgement they throw her way.

Two minutes before the official start of class, Laura starts to write her office hours and email on the whiteboard, as she finishes up, a flurry of motion and the scent of autumn and spice drag her attention toward the door.

A tall, lightly muscled guy with dark hair and wide, amber eyes is half-stumbling into the room. His face is dotted with freckles and Laura is startled again to find herself thinking of tasting them. She's actually leaning slightly in his direction, taking a deep breath to learn his scent.

He recovers gracefully, re-shouldering his bag and catching his notebook before it can fall. Laura tries not to notice the way his forearms flex where his plaid shirt is rolled up. Their eyes meet, and the color of his catch Laura off guard, but more than that, it's how he seems to look into her that takes her breath for a moment.

He tilts his head a little, a familiar gesture that puts Laura oddly at ease. His lips quirk in a quick smile, and Laura feels as though she's been judged favorably.

He sits in the front row, and Laura has to force herself to look away from his hands as they arrange his pens and pencils in front of him.

She checks the clock again, sees that it's time to begin, and moves back to her desk. Taking a deep breath, she finds her earlier confidence and begins.

“Good afternoon, everyone! Welcome to Criminal Theory 306, I'm Laura, Dr. Griffin’s teaching assistant, and I'll be leading your Wednesday classes, and I'll be here Fridays as well. If you have any questions…”

***

It takes her less than ten minutes into the bullshit intro class to realize that the kid--Stiles-- is brilliant. He's funny and charming to boot. Laura kind of hates him.

***

Stiles is from her home town, and they know basically all the same people. It should be nice, but it puts her on edge.

***

Doctor Griffin loves Stiles. He tells Stiles his theories are “clever” and “interesting”. He jokes that they're lucky Stiles is on the side of the law, because otherwise they'd all be in trouble. He wants Stiles to consider teaching. He invites Stiles to a lecture that Laura is attending with him.

Laura has been working with Doctor Griffin for a year and a half, and he has never joked about her intellect.

Stiles smiles at Laura like they know each other, like they know each other's secrets. He still smells like everything good about autumn. He laughs with his whole body, and he doesn't notice the way half the girls in class, and at least two of the guys, are halfway in love with him.

Doctor Griffin claps Stiles’ shoulder like a proud father, Stiles smiles, big and genuine, and he winks at Laura. It makes something hot and electric flash through her, but it's all mixed up with jealous ire. Laura grips the back of the chair she's leaving on so tightly it cracks. She winces, but before she can make an excuse to distract her mentor and her...rival?...Stiles sweeps in and redirects his attention away, leading him out of the room easily and throwing Laura a look she can't interpret.

The wave of gratitude chases away the annoyance, but the confusion remains.

***

Stiles wears a tie and vest to the lecture. Laura hates it; no one should look that good in real life. He compliments her dress without being creepy, he even flushes a little when he does it, which of course just makes him hotter. Dammit.

Stiles charms everyone at the little meet and greet thing, Griffin gushes about him and Laura tries to smile politely. When she accidentally makes eye contact with Stiles, he looks surprised, then looks quickly at Griffin, then back to her before his eye twitches in annoyance.

She's totally unprepared for it when Stiles gestures at her and says “Really though, none of us would have any idea what's going on without this woman over here, no offence, Doc, but Laura keeps us all in line.” His tone is light, but he's radiating sincerity, and the words he chose feel deliberate. They also feel pretty amazing.

And just like that, the alumnae they were talking to are terribly interested in Laura and her thesis, and Griffin is heaping praise on her. Stiles bumps her shoulder lightly with his own, and she returns the gesture. When she turns to flash a thankful smile, she swears that he bares his neck to her.

She doesn't have time to process that, as her mentor poses a question about her research, so she shakes off the shock and lets the thrill of talking about her thesis--and the spice and autumn smell of Stiles-- distract her.

***

They seem to spend a lot of time together, but Laura can't bring herself to be mad] when she comes home from trading ideas and talking about Star Wars over coffee and notices she smells a little like him.

***

Stiles comes in to the first class after break smelling like other wolves, and Laura can't quite swallow a growl. Stiles seems to be the only one to notice it, his eyes going wide as he scrambles to meet her at her desk, hands splayed out in a soothing gesture.

“Laura,” he says, just audible to her enhanced hearing. “I should've warned you, I'm so sorry, but i promise I'm not a threat, I was visiting some friends at home. They uh, know your mom, you can call her if you need to, she knows me, too.”

Laura can tell he's being honest, knows he wouldn't lie to her, really. But there's a sour note in his scent that has her anxious anyway.

He closes his eyes for a long second before putting his hand on the desk next to hers, close enough that she can feel the heat of it. She wishes he would move it the last centimeter.

When he speaks again, his voice is heavy. “Please just… please don't be mad. I don't want us to not be friends.”

“We’ll talk later, Stiles,” she says, it's less comforting than she wants it to be, and Stiles stiffens. She quickly moves her hand over his and squeezes gently before moving away entirely. He smiles, mostly to himself, and Laura feels like she did something right.

***

Stiles knows about werewolves, and knows Laura's whole family, her whole pack. Even the newest members that Laura hasn't met because she's been away so long.

Like with everything else, Stiles has thrown himself headlong into learning everything he can, and Laura is afraid that soon he might know more than she does. It doesn't feel like it did with class stuff though, she's not jealous or threatened by his encyclopedic knowledge; she's fascinated by his enthusiasm and his curiosity.

She might be falling a little bit in love.

***

Laura asks Stiles to read her thesis over Thanksgiving break. They drive back to Beacon Hills together, and it's far more comfortable than it should be.

Stiles wasn't kidding about knowing her mom, and Laura is both flabbergasted and overjoyed to see how easily Stiles and his dad integrate into her family. She's not even surprised when she feels the beginnings of a pack bond forming in her chest; a faint but very real connection tying her to the two men. She knows when she becomes alpha, the bonds will strengthen and become more defined, and she can't wait to carry her pack with her that way.

***

Laura's whole family loves Stiles. He's thick as thieves with her little sister, Cora, has a difficult to define, but intense friendship with her brother, Derek, even Peter is smitten (in his own weird, slightly dangerous way).

She can't blame them.

***

Stiles has notes on Laura's thesis.

They're all, of course, insightful and well articulated. What aren't compliments, are ways she can strengthen her argument, or challenges to her hypotheses and articles that address them.

He tells her “You're kind of brilliant, you know,” and he's smiling in that way that makes her heart beat heavy against her ribcage, and he radiates sincerity and a little bit of awe, and Laura wants to kiss him.

So she does.

***

Stiles kisses back like he argues, eagerly and earnestly and it's perfect.

Laura doesn't hate it even a little.

[elle-menteuse]

No specific prompt for Laura Hale’s appreciation week!    

Tomaste mi inocencia y mi humanidad, pero esta bien.

Mi hermano es lo único que necesito.

[anefan]

the sky grew dark

Laura looked at Peter, unmoving on the hospital bed, wrapped in seeping bandages and still smelling like the ash and death that hung in a pall over the whole town. Her brilliant, meddling uncle, an unrecognizable mass of wounds. If he woke up, he would know what to do. He would know who to talk to, how to find them; he would know how to make them pay. He could teach her everything her mother never had a chance to tell her, could show her how to staple herself back together and keep on living afterward. She looked at Derek, her stupid, cocky baby brother turned brooding and strange, now gone shell-shocked, eyes vacant, barely responding to his own name, fresh blood welling under his claws where they dug into his palms unconsciously. He didn’t need the pain to keep him human—there was enough of that, too much, more than they could ever handle, the screaming emptiness inside them where their family used to be, and Laura had never wanted to be human, had never wished she wasn’t a wolf, but she thought now that it would be better, it had to be better, that being alone in your heart your whole life couldn’t be as terrible as having it ripped from your chest to leave you gasping and crying and still terribly, horribly alive. 

She looked at Peter, she looked at Derek. She looked out the window at the town that had always sheltered her, tainted now by smoke and blood. There were Argents out there, circling in the shadows, and their pack was down to three. Her pack, now, with the crushing fire of the alpha spark scorching through her veins. She and Derek couldn’t fight; they could barely stand. Peter was in critical condition, couldn’t be moved, would probably never wake up. Would probably never know that he had been doubly abandoned, would probably understand if he did: she couldn’t save them. She couldn’t protect them. 

She looked at Peter, she looked at Derek. One, maybe. Maybe she could save one. 

She made the choice. 

They ran. 

[anchorsandadderall]

Pack Ties

Laura Hale Appreciation Week

Day 1 Theme: Laura Didn’t Die

Now also on AO3

The ache Laura feels in her chest is one that is unique to wolves. Humans might miss each other, and fiercely, but pack… pack misses each other to the point of physical pain. Relief bubbles up in her chest, almost uncomfortably because it feels like there just isn’t room for all of it in the space between her ribs.

“Oh my god. I… I left without knowing when I would see you again.” Laura should be ashamed of that wobble in her voice, very unbecoming of an Alpha. If you can’t be weak around your own pack, though, what’s the point in having one? “I’m so sorry. I’ve missed you so much.” 

She reaches out with hands that tremble slightly as she lays them, for the first time in much too long, on the Camaro’s hood, feeling the solid press of the fiberglass under her fingertips. Little more grit than she preferred to feel, but that was okay. Dirt tended to happen, now that the roads this deep into the preserve were a bit grown over from disuse. Nothing that a nice bath wouldn’t fix. 

“Don’t you worry, gorgeous. Mama will clean you right up. And maybe even get a bottle of the really good wax, huh?” Dry twigs snap under the heels of her boots as she runs her hands up those hard, graceful curves of the hood, tracing along the frame of the door, pausing to scratch at a suspicious smudge of yellow. Just pollen. No cause for alarm. 

“I... owe you an apology for not picking you up last night. God, you probably had to watch me drive away in that Altima,” Laura sighs, curling her fingers and grasping the doorframe. How that must have looked… “I promise, it’s a shitty rental car and I hate it. I didn’t even know Derek brought you or I never would have left you all alone here.” It had been kind of a massive fucking mess, really,  finding Derek in the first place, and in the charred remains of their old home, no less. (They’ve already had a serious discussion about the merits of renting a hotel room.) Not to mention whatever the hell was running around these woods and carving threats into her territory reared its head again last night. Then promptly vanished, again, which is getting really annoying.

Laura puts that irritation out of her mind, because there’s fuck all she can do about it. Instead she curls her fingers under the door handle, savoring that familiar feeling against her palm as the door clicks and swings open, smooth and beautiful and… 

And releasing a pent-up cloud of hot air that reeks of stale meat and onions. It smacks into Laura and makes her recoil back a step, coughing and waving a hand in front of her face. It would be faint to a human nose, but it’s the shock that puts her back on her heels. Her car never smells like food. Oh god, why does her baby smell like cheap hamburger?

“Oh, sweetheart,” she coos, braving the smell and crawling into the driver’s seat. The leather creaks agreeably under her knee as she leans between the seats, sniffing gingerly. “It’s probably not even that bad…”

It’s that bad.

~~~

Laura stalks through the trees, her fingers curled into fists, nails biting into her palms. As she picks up her brother’s scent, she feels the press of her fangs against her lower lip as a growl escapes, unbidden. She’s vaguely aware of other new scents, but not enough to care. 

“Derek!” She barely gives Derek time to turn towards her before she throws the tightly wadded paper in her hand, smacking him squarely between the eyes. “Why are there In-N-Out wrappers in my car?!”

Derek just rubs the spot on his forehead where the wrapper hit him and scowls at her. “It’s a two day drive to California.”

“And when you were done driving, you didn’t clean her out?” Laura is incensed. And dismayed. She taught Derek to treat his pack better than that. “There’s a coffee cup from the place across from our apartment! You left that in her since New York!”

“Laura, this really isn’t the time.” Derek’s eyes dart to the side, and Laura follows the movement to two teenage boys. They smell like confusion and no small amount of fear (might be her red eyes or it might be Derek being his charming self). One of them also smells like a werewolf. 

“Go away,” she growls at them, and the human one immediately takes a step back. Good, he has self preservation. The one that smells like a wolf just kind of stares at them, mouth agape. Not quite as promising, but she can work on that later. “You can come bother Derek tomorrow. Right now you need to leave.”

“Uh, right. Yeah.” The human reaches for the werewolf and tugs on his arm. “Come on, Scott. We’ll uh… figure out what to tell your mom about the inhaler.”

Laura reaches into Derek’s jacket pocket where she can smell the tang of unfamiliar chemicals, pulling out the inhaler. She throws it to the werewolf, not that he needs it anymore. “Go,” she orders. “Derek has a car to clean.”

[do-what-the-knight-tells-you]

LHAW- Days 1&2

Cheating, because this kind of counts for both days, but here it is:

I don’t have a full-on fic here, but in honor of Laura Hale appreciation week, here’s the bones of an AU I’ve been turning around in my head.

I had just seen an AU post about Laura being alive the other day… And I didn’t Like it, and I wasn’t sure why. I poked at the idea for a bit, and then it came to me: Derek. Derek’s emotional state at the beginning of the series is a big influencing factor both on his relationships and actions, and on his character as a whole. It’s that Desperate exposed wound feeling you get from him, a raw nerve with nothing to dampen in, all his defenses burned away, save for anger.

He’s so fucked up, and so desperate… And not that we want him to be miserable all the time, but I think that final blow of losing Laura is a really intrinsic part of keeping him the Derek we see in canon. So, how to preserve Derek’s situation, but also keep our favorite badass alpha big sis?

Okay, so. So Peter attacks her in the woods, but she doesn’t die. He gets interrupted or she gets away… Like, what if Stiles pulls Scott into the woods early? There have been animal attacks and the like… and Stiles is curious and suspicious and has some crazy private theories about fictional monsters… like, he knows they are nuts but he just… really really wants to check it out. And he drags Scott along.

And they interrupt Peter. Peter doesn’t have the alpha power yet, and he isn’t quite as clever yet, and he runs, rather than engage the unknown variables. But they see some crazy supernatural shit, and there’s Laura and she’s a mess, but she insists they don’t take her to the hospital.

She keeps insisting that all the y need to do is keep her alive long enough so that she can heal. That’s it. … So they split up. Scott hits the clinic, liberates some supplies (the whole time going “why do I let stiles get me into these things??? Holy shit that dog thing was huge!!! Holy shit I’m going to get fired!!! And later in the fic, that would come up, Deaton Suspending him at least, maybe not outright firing him, making it suuuuuuper clear what an inappropriate, unprofessional, and illegal move that was, but understanding that it was a complex emergency and knowing that part of the reason Scott et all didn’t come to him outright was because he was keeping them in the dark… And yeah, Scott probably would not have done it that way, had he been given all the information. Also, Deaton surely takes into account the fact that had he himself been a little more on the ball, he might have known where Laura was, what was going on, that things were swinging rapidly out of balance… but just the same, needing to make it clear to Scott that is he one day wants to be a professional in this field, certain things are just plain not permissible. And so this is his one strike.) and Stiles drives Laura to his place.

So Laura is at the Stilinski’s, safe enough for now, but Derek felt all the shit go down through the pack bond and flies in as fast as fucking possible, finds a shitton of blood and just. Knows. Spends a while panicking, and pissed, and desperately grieving, and terrified. She’s not answering, and there’s all that blood and fear sweat and he just… he just can’t. He’s too freaked to track her well, or he panics, or something… maybe it has rained as well? But Stiles comes back later looking for Scott’s inhaler and finds Derek in the woods. He knows who he is, is suprised to see him? But pretty immediately tells him where Laura is, and offer to take him. Derek has to fight the instinct to just take off running, but better sense prevails and he allows Stiles to get him most of the way there before he bolts out of the car and to his Alpha’s (this goofy kid’s?) bedside and buries his face in her (by now kinda greasy and gross) hair, trying not to whimper.

So then it's season 1, trying to figure out who the feral werewolf is, but without all the accidental new wolves because Peter is not an alpha. Without the werewolf fix to his asthma, Scott doesn't make first line... But I like to think that Alison is into him anyway. And that they start their quiet little puppy romance because she appreciates his tenacity on the field, not necessarily his werewolf skills. That this is the first point where Allison sets herself apart from Lydia. And the first time Lydia sees someone who should be in the popular crowd behaving that way, starting Lydia down the road to being comfortable with the fact that she's smart and that everybody knows it.

But yeah, so I like the idea that Stiles would start assisting Laura and Derek in tracking down the feral werewolf, without their consent mostly... That Derek would get shot when he was out hunting the alpha, but be unable to get to Laura in time... Or, just realizing that Stiles is closer... And we could talk about there being that kind of instantaneous connection there, but mostly Derek just wants Stiles to get him to his sister, and once they've got him to his sister they then have to figure out how to get Scott to steal bullets from the argents... And I cannot figure out how to work Laura into that plot line, if she’s there and pulling Derek’s pain (and entertaining the idea of the alpha-power sc\sacrifice if it comes down to it), or if she is trying to find their old Vault in hopes that there are strains of wolfsbane there…  is she quizzing Deaton... Do they even know if Deaton is in on the supernatural at this point? I would think that Laura would... Especially if we'd assume that Talia was grooming her to be Alpha after Talia died. But, if we don't assume that, if we assume there were other siblings... That makes that interesting.

Anyway, maybe Laura is even actually away from the territory, perhaps making overtures with Satomi’s pack, or other packs in the area, trying to figure out if anybody is missing a werewolf, and whose f****** problem it is that this werewolf has come into her territory and f*** s*** up. And so that’s when the Argents roll into town, and all this shit goes down. And I will be very curious, once all this starts happening, when Derek's going to have to come clean about his relationship to the Argent’s craziest member. That'll be interesting. Because, I imagine it's a subject he avoided coming clean to Laura about  for probably the entire time they were in New York. But Kate being here, capturing him, Kate torturing him... That's going to be a hard one. It'd also be fun to rewrite that scene without the dynamic that Kate is suspected of having killed Laura...

So yeah, that’s what I want: Stiles shoe-horning his way in, Scott a little more distant (maybe one day having to make a choice between his girlfriend and her family, and his best friend and the family he has forcibly adopted as his own. Derek, still fucked up, still scared a lot, but with this last little piece of his heart and soul and sanity returned to him. His Alpha, his big sister. Having to finally share all the shit in his head with her, all the guilt and shit, and… getting absolution, a little bit.

God, all those fics where she lingers as a ghost, wanting desperately to be able to hug him and tell him she doesn’t blame him… To be able to have her  ther, alive, fierce and beautiful and determined even when she herself is always scared too.

God, to see her take on Kate Argent, not just standing for her family, but with full knowledge of what was done to her baby brother, what he’s done to himself after wards.

I feel like Stiles is going to go through a “10-year-plan to win Laura Hale” phase.

And she will be amused. And Derek will be grumpy and jealous, and grumpy about being Jealous.

But it’ll all be better, and they will be 900% less broken, because Laura Fucking Hale.

[stacinadia]

For @laurahale-appreciation​!  Originally written for the theme Laura Didn’t Die, I needed an extra day to work on it, so now it’s for the theme Alpha Laura, which also qualifies!  This is a prequel to Meeting Again, when Laura and Peter fight.

Title:  Alpha Roar

Rating:  T

Warnings:  Canon-typical violence

Theme:  Alpha Laura

Words:  2446

Summary:  Laura ran away years ago, but she's not running anymore. 

Also at AO3.

**********

“Are you sure you don’t need me to come, Laura?”

Laura smiled gently at her younger brother.  Derek was normally a pretty independent werewolf, but he became slightly clingy whenever she had to travel away for any sort of alpha business.  They were pretty much the only family either of them had left since the fire.  

“Alpha business” rarely happened, luckily, ever since the two of them had moved to New York to try and get away from all the bad memories.  Since they weren’t living in their own territory anymore, they weren‘t really an active pack.  One of the New York packs permitted the two siblings to live safely in their own territory as long as they didn’t try to take over, but occasionally, Laura‘s presence was required at some meetings as another alpha.  

Now it was one of those few times.  But this time, she was returning to their family‘s old territory in California. 

She didn’t tell the specifics to Derek so he wouldn‘t worry more than he normally did when she was away, but she’d found out about a spiral being burned onto a dead deer in their old town of Beacon Hills.  It was the werewolf symbol for revenge, and she needed to know what it meant and who it was a message for.  

“I‘ll be fine, Derek,” she told him gently, putting a hand on his shoulder.  “I won’t be gone long.  I’ll probably be back in less than a week.”

Derek hugged her tightly and buried his face in her neck, despite the fact that he was now taller than her.  She smiled fondly as he began scenting her.  She turned toward her brother’s exposed neck as well and breathed in his scent as well, feeling a sense of contentment and pack as their combined scents washed over her.  From the scents wafting off of him, she could tell that her brother felt the same way.

“You promise, Laura?”  Derek’s voice was so soft, she might not have heard it if she didn‘t have enhanced senses.

“I promise.”  She kissed Derek on the cheek, then picked up her suitcase and left their apartment to go hail a cab to the airport.  “Love you, Der-bear!” she shouted as she pressed the button for the elevator.

“Don’t call me that, Laura!”  

She chuckled at her brother’s whining as she stepped into the elevator.  He was such fun to tease.

**********

She was back in Beacon Hills by that afternoon.  Finally being back in her family’s territory - her territory - filled her with purpose.  Her alpha instincts made her want to check out the town and the preserve and make sure that it was all still okay after all these years.  She wasn’t expecting to feel this way upon her return.  A wave of guilt washed over her not for the first time that maybe she and Derek never should have left.

She could tell that no other alphas dared to take the Hale pack’s territory while she was gone.  Her mother had been one of the most respected alphas in California, so that probably had a lot to do with it. But she knew that someday, some pack or alpha was going to try to take Beacon Hills for themselves.  Laura realized that she didn’t want that to happen.  

Despite the fact that no other packs were present, Laura was on high alert that evening as she felt drawn to the preserve where the remains of her family’s burned down house were.  If another pack wasn‘t here, perhaps hunters had left the deer in the hopes that she would return.  She growled softly.  A hunter was the one who had set the fire that killed her family, and she would make sure that no hunter would ever harm another Hale for as long as she lived.  

She continued to slip soundlessly through the preserve, the trees still so familiar to her despite not being here for so long.  As she neared the remains of the Hale house, she saw a figure in a robe standing with its back toward her, most likely a male judging by the silhouette.  She slowed her silent steps to observe the man.  But what made her actually stop in her tracks was that the back looked very familiar…

“U…uncle Peter?” she whispered in shock.  “Is that you?”

Uncle Peter, her mother’s younger brother, had been the only one who had survived the massacre of their family.  But despite the fact that he was a werewolf, his body had been horrifically burned, and he’d been in a coma which the doctors hadn’t been sure he’d ever wake up from.  Laura had gotten reports over the years from the hospital when she was in New York occasionally updating her on his condition, but he had never shown any sort of signs that he was coming out of it.

The figure turned around then, and Laura gasped when she saw that it really was Peter.  His face was still badly scarred from the fire, though it had healed somewhat from when his body had been first pulled from the wreckage of their house.  It was likely that his body had also partially healed as well.  She barely had time to inwardly marvel that he had finally come out of his coma before he leaped towards her, his clawed hand only lightly scratching her cheek as she backed up in shock.  She could already feel her skin knitting itself back together.

“It’s me, Laura!” she cried out as she dodged another swing.  “Your niece!  Don’t you recognize me?”

A growl was the only response she got as his fangs dropped and he started to half-shift, his eyes flashing blue as his sideburns grew and his clothes tearing.  He lunged toward her, aiming for her throat.  Laura finally let loose her own claws as she prepared to fight one of the only living relatives she had left.

She didn’t understand what was happening.  Uncle Peter had always been more sneaky and underhanded than her mother and the rest of the Hales, but he had always been on the family’s side and would have protected them with everything that he had.  Laura didn’t know what Peter had endured during the fire, as she and Derek hadn’t been home at the time, but hearing his family, his wife and child, dying all around him couldn’t have been good for his psyche.  But was her uncle insane enough to attack one of his only family left?

Peter was clearly fighting to kill.  There was no doubt about that.  He kept aiming for her neck, one of the most vulnerable parts of a werewolf.  But Laura was only trying to subdue.  She flung his body into a tree and tried to slip through the woods unseen while he was still getting his bearings.

But Peter appeared suddenly in front of her yet again, and Laura stopped abruptly in her tracks.  He slammed her into a tree behind her with one hand, his claws digging into her torso.  He lifted his other hand as he prepared to swung his claws towards her neck, an attack that Laura wouldn‘t be able to dodge.

Laura feared that this might be the end.  Her throat would be clawed out by her uncle, and she would be joining the rest of her family in the afterlife.  Derek would be left all alone in New York with no idea what had happened to her.  Would he return to Beacon Hills, too, looking for her?  Would he meet the same fate as Laura?  

But she couldn’t leave Derek behind.  She was his alpha and he needed her.  And despite the fact that he was trying to kill her, she knew that Peter needed an alpha, his alpha, too.

She remembered her mother telling her about an alpha’s roar which would make everyone of lower rank, and possibly some other alphas, submit immediately.  It was the only thing she could think of to try.  As Peter’s claws neared her neck, she gathered up every ounce of alpha power inside her and roared.  She could feel her face transforming into her partial shift and she knew her eyes were glowing red.

Peter immediately stopped and released her, baring his neck to her in submission and flashing his blue eyes.  “Alpha,” he murmured, lowering his head.

Laura was silent for a few moments, trying to catch her breath and processing the fact that the alpha roar had actually worked.  Her face transformed back to human.  “Uncle Peter, why?” she asked quietly.

Peter was breathing heavily from the exertion of the fight as well.  “Had to…” he said.

“Why?”

“Had to become alpha,” Peter explained.  “Can heal faster as an alpha.  And then kill everyone who killed our family.  I want revenge!” he roared out.

“Revenge won’t bring them back!”  Laura shot back at him.

“Talia would have said something like that, too,” Peter mused.  “But I had six years of just laying there in that coma, abandoned by my alpha,” he spat derisively.  “I had to take control myself.”

Laura was horrified as she realized what Peter said was true.  She’d abandoned a packmate who needed her to a long-term care hospital because she couldn’t stand being in the town where her family had died, despite it being their territory.  “We…  I…  I didn‘t mean to,” she whispered.

Peter snorted.  “Yeah, that’s why you and Derek visited me so many times in that hospital.”  He shook his head.  “Stupid, foolish boy,” he muttered.  “Got everyone killed.”

Laura knew that Derek still believed the same thing, that it had been all his fault that Kate Argent was able to kill their family because he‘d given her information about them, thinking that she’d been in love with him.  After he’d finally admitted it to her a few months after they had moved to New York, she’d worked hard trying to convince him that it wasn’t his fault, that he had been deceived, too.  “It wasn’t his fault,” she told her uncle.  “Kate would found some other way.”

She reached out to her uncle, but he jerked his arm away.  Laura didn’t let that deter her.  “Uncle Peter, I did abandon you, and for that, I’m so sorry.”

Peter looked surprised that she was admitting to that.  Laura was relieved to see him listening.

“I was an alpha at eighteen, barely out of high school.  I was scared because my family was dead, and my only relative who had survived the fire was in a coma, and we had no idea if you would ever come out of it.  That doesn’t usually happen to werewolves, so we had no idea what was happening to you.  So I just ran away with Derek.  I know now that I never should have done that.  I can feel the land calling to me.  I wasn’t ready back then, but I think I’m ready now.”  She reached out to Peter, but this time, he allowed her to touch his arm.  “I don’t know if I will ever be able to make it up to you, but I want to try.  It’s just the three of us now, and we should stick together like family should.  I‘ll become the alpha I should have been.”

Peter stared at her for a few moments, then started chuckling.  “That was a good speech, niece,” he said, a twinkle in his eyes that Laura remembered from before the fire, when Peter was the cool uncle who let them get away with things.  

But then a faraway look came to his eyes.  “I didn’t want you to die, Laura,” he said.  His heartbeat was steady, so Laura knew that it was the truth.  “All I could think of was killing an alpha, and you were the only one I could think of.  I…  I just wanted to make them pay.  Make them all pay.  That‘s all I could think of for years.”  His head bowed forward and his voice took on a watery tone.  “My sister and her family.  My wife.  My child.  They didn’t deserve this…”  A sob came from the man as his shoulders shook

Laura immediately wrapped her arms around Peter as tears streamed down her cheeks as well.  “None of them did,” she whispered back.  She could feel the pack bond with Peter growing stronger as she gently scented.  He smelled of smoke, sadness, and regret, but underneath it all, he smelled like pack and family.

The two separated, and Laura could see Peter’s burns looked a little better.  “I won’t leave again, I promise,” she vowed.  “I’m going to call Derek, and we’re all going to be together again.  We’re going to stick together like a family should.”

Peter grinned.  “I like the sound of family.”

“Me, too.”  A thought occurred to Laura.  “Were you the one who burned the spiral on the deer?  How long have you been awake?”

“Well,” Peter drawled, looking embarrassed.  “A nurse at the hospital helped me.  She burned the deer for me and she helped me get out.”

“She doesn’t know about us, does she?”  Laura quirked an eyebrow, shooting Peter a stern look.

Peter’s response was to whistle innocently.  Laura didn’t buy it for an instant.  “Well, we’ll worry about that later,” she said, waving her hand.  “For now, I’m going to my hotel and calling Derek to return here as well.  Do you need to get back to the hospital, Uncle Peter?”

“I suppose,” he shrugged in response.  “They’ll be missing me, I’m sure.  I’ll have you know I was quite popular with the nurses, even in a coma.”

Laura laughed.  Now that sounded more like the Uncle Peter that she knew and loved.

**********

Laura sighed in relief as she sat on her hotel bed.  It was all over with no blood being shed and the living Hales were unified once again.  She mentally vowed to become the sort of alpha that her mother had been, now that they were back on their own land.

She grabbed her phone and called Derek, who she knew that, despite the fact that it was about 4am in New York, he was probably anxious with his alpha and sister away.

“Laura?” came her brother’s sleepy yet anxious voice.  “Is everything okay?”

Laura smiled.  “Everything is perfect, Derek.  Our uncle is awake and healing.”

She could hear rustling as she pictured Derek sitting up in bed.  “Uncle Peter‘s awake?” he asked, sounding a little more alert.

“Yes,” Laura said.  “Now pack up whatever is absolutely necessary and come back home.  The Hale pack is returning to Beacon Hills.”

[thedaughterofkings]

regret nothing

This was technically written for Day Four of the @laurahale-appreciation week, that is Bickering Besties. But because I felt bad about not managing to write anything for the first three days, this not only has Stiles and Laura as besties, but also Alpha Laura, Hale Twins, AND Laura didn’t die, all squeezed into one 2k ficlet. And there’s Sterek of course, too! I hope you enjoy it! And go check out all the other fics written for this great new fest!

Derek regrets nothing as much as letting Laura go back to Beacon Hills alone.

Unfortunately she’s his elder - “By twelve minutes and don’t you forget that, Der!” - and his Alpha to boot, so Derek had had to remain alone in New York City while Laura went back to their old territory to look into the strange animal killings reported from there.

And now Derek has to suffer for his twin’s stubbornness. Because Laura? Befriended a pair of high schoolers the very first night she was back in Beacon Hills. And ever since, it’s been nothing but “Stiles this, Stiles that” with the occasional “Scott this” thrown in to mix things up.

Laura met them in the forest. At night. Where she was alone. Because Derek had to stay in New York City. Derek actually video calls her for once because Laura deserves to get glared at for that, but unfortunately she just laughs at him and says:

“I’m the apex predator, Derek, nothing out there would attack me. I was perfectly safe! Now the same cannot be said about tweedle dum and tweedle dee - Scott even has asthma, can you believe them?”

“I can’t even believe you,” Derek grumbles, but Laura ignores him and continues:

“So I heard them from miles away and decided to check up on them out of the good of my heart and Scott almost had an asthma attack when I reached them, but Stiles tried to attack me with a baseball bat - that’s what he was armed with, Derek! A baseball bat in the forest! What did he think he was going to find there? A bat? To bat away with his bat? A bat bat batting?”

And there Laura has to stop talking because she can’t stop laughing at her own terrible joke and Derek rolls his eyes and ends the call. But he sleeps easier that night knowing that Laura is still alive and well, which is not a given considering how Beacon Hills has treated their family.

The next few calls are similar to the first one. Laura calls to let him know that it looks as though there’s another werewolf at large and that’s how all the animals are killed, but at least she promises that she won’t go looking for it in the middle of the night again, and because Derek wheedles their “twinsies winsies vowsies” promise out of her (they were four when they came up with the name) he’s even inclined to believe she’s going to keep it. More concerning is that she visited Uncle Peter and that something was different about him, even though the nurse said there had been no changes. Nevertheless, Laura is sure that his scent has changed somehow - less rotten, is how she describes it and Derek believes. Her nose had always been the best, even before she became the Alpha.

Most concerning however is how Laura won’t stop hanging out with high schoolers. Not even Derek’s warning that she’s going to get arrested as a creeper deters her.

“Stiles’ dad is the Sheriff,” she says and laughs when Derek exclaims: “That just makes it even worse!”

Laura keeps collecting ever new strays, too, first Stiles and Scott, then Lydia and Jackson, and worst of all in Derek’s opinion, Allison Argent, Kate Argent’s niece. That phone call wasn’t a fun one; Derek shredded three of Laura’s throw pillows during it and Laura had to use her Alpha voice to stop him from booking a flight to the west coast immediately.

“She doesn’t even know about us,” Laura had said, quietly insistent, obviously willing Derek to listen. “She’s just a girl, who had to move into a strange new place and whose family is behaving weirdly. I won’t treat her as if she’s turned bad already, not when I might still do something to help her turn away from the dark side.”

“I thought the dark side had cookies,” Derek jokes weakly, but Laura just shakes her head grimly: “No, this one just has beetroot.”

Stiles is still the one she talks about the most, though. Apparently he doesn’t have many friends besides Scott and with Scott apparently in puppy love with Allison, Stiles has a lot of time on his hands suddenly and seems to want to spend it with Laura. Laura tells Derek of their coffee dates, and how they saw the latest MCU movie in the cinema last night, and Derek honestly thinks they are dating for a hot, scary second, until Laura denies it vehemently, with a loud “eewww no!” for effect. “He’s just lonely, I think,” she says, sobering again. “Scott is his best friend and he’s all but forgotten him because of Allison. Other than him he’s not close to many people; his dad is busy with his job, and his mum died years ago. Honestly, at first I mostly felt bad for him, but he’s actually a great guy. He’s funny and smart and sarcastic and a total softie beneath it all - you’d like him!”

“I doubt it,” Derek grumbles, but Laura refuses to drop it. She keeps singing Stiles’ praises and Derek honestly is a little jealous of the guy. He used to be the one Laura was closest to and he’s prepared to hate the guy just because he has stolen his twin sister. But then Stiles saves Laura’s life and Derek can’t even hate him anymore.

Laura is shot at by Kate Argent and Derek can’t sleep for three nights without his phone pressed to his ear and Laura’s heartbeat coming calm and steady through the line. The bill is going to be insane, but it’s worth it. Stiles is the one who finds her and gets Scott and Allison to steal the wolfsbane bullet needed to save Laura’s life. Laura tries to play it off, but Derek knows his twin and he knows it was close, that he almost lost her.

But Laura promises that she’ll be more careful from now on and insists that Derek should stay in New York and at least finish the semester. So when Peter wakes up and goes on a mad killing spree, Derek has to somehow get himself together enough to study for finals while worrying about the last two members of his family ripping each other apart - literally. The only thing keeping him somewhat sane are the regular messages from an unknown number that let him know that Laura is still alive and doing well. There’s also the occasional random remark upon everything from the history of male circumcision to questions about the New York Mets. Derek rarely replies, but he notes that each message is signed ‘Stiles’.

He did promise Laura to get through the semester, but she’s not here to stop him from rushing through his French Post-Revolution Literature exam, handing it in just after the half mark. His flight is leaving in two hours and he still needs to make it to the airport - his classmates staring after him in dismay because they are nowhere near finished yet isn’t his problem.

Derek arrives just in Beacon Hills in time to watch Peter rip out Kate Argent’s throat and to stop Chris Argent from blowing Peter’s brains out. There’s a group of teenagers huddled at the edge of the clearing, apparently armed with homemade molotov cocktails and in one case a bow and arrows of all things. While Derek is grappling with Chris, who is surprisingly strong for a mere human and slippery to boot, Laura tackles Peter and roars him into submission. Derek almost lets Chris go, the urge to submit to his Alpha is so great. Interestingly, he can see some of the teenagers react instinctively, too, either ducking their heads or presenting their necks. When he looks back towards Laura, she’s flashing her eyes at Peter and his flash back, red against blue and Derek lets out a deep breath of relief. Peter has accepted Laura as his Alpha. It’s something neither of them had thought off - with Peter in a coma when Laura became the Alpha, he hadn’t had the chance to build a new pack bond with her and, waking up, had been for all intents and purposes an Omega. Hopefully he’ll be a little less unhinged now that he is part of a proper, if small pack again.

Speaking of unhinged, Chris has renewed his struggles, apparently realising that all attention is going to focus on him now that Peter is under control. Derek just holds him still as best as he can and waits for whatever Laura has decided to do with him.

Laura ignores him to start with, heading towards the teenagers first, kneeling down in front of the brunette, who is white as a sheet but still holding her bow tightly, ready to lift and shoot at a moment’s notice.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, Allison,” Laura says softly. “She deserved to die, but I did not want you to witness her death, especially not like that.”

“She deserved to die?” Chris roars and Derek grabs him more tightly to stop him from attacking Laura with his bare hands. “She was my sister, you monster.”

Laura’s back straightens abruptly and she gets up again, stalking towards Chris and Derek predatorily.

“She was a mass murdering maniac, a cold blooded killer, and a rapist to boot. She murdered my entire family and you call me a monster? I know how much your daughter loves you and that is the only reason why you are still alive right now,” she growls, getting right into Chris’ space. “If you won’t listen to me, listen to Allison, but know that: the Hales are back and this is our territory, to protect from people like you and especially your sister. So tread carefully, very carefully. The real monsters here aren’t the ones with claws.”

Here she flicks her claws at Chris’ face, stopping just short of taking out his eyes, and Derek hears one of the teenagers cheer under his breath: “Yes, show him those claws, Laura!”

Then Laura turns to Derek and says: “Let him go, Der. Allison says she’ll keep him in line and I trust Allison.”

The brunette raises her chin defiantly and nods, obviously aware of how significant that is and not planning to disappoint Laura, so Derek releases Chris, who goes straight to his daughter and drags her away through the trees. Allison rips herself free, though, and runs back to throw her arms around Laura in a hug. Derek hears her whisper: “Thank you, I’ll talk to him. He didn’t know about Kate; I’m sure of it. And I’ll talk to mum, too.” Then she runs back to her father and leads him away.

Laura waits until they are out of sight and human hearing range and then drags Derek into a hard hug, mumbling into his neck: “I thought I told you to stick out the semester! Didn’t you have an exam today?”

“I did,” Derek defends himself. “I finished early; it’s not my fault if the exam’s too easy!”

Laura laughs and releases him just long enough to drag him over to the remaining four teenagers:

“Guys, this is my younger brother Derek, whom you all already know about.”

“It’s just twelve minutes, Laura,” Derek mutters, and Laura pinches him in the side.

“As I was saying, my younger brother Derek, and these are Scott-” A curly haired boy who is still looking after Allison and her father, as if they are suddenly going to reappear. “and Jackson-” A prototypical high school jock, who seems to be more than a little shell shocked, but also definitely very much in awe of Laura. “and Lydia-” She’ll definitely be prom queen, Derek thinks, but there’s a shrewd look in her eyes that makes him think that she’ll probably be valedictorian as well. “and last, but so not least,” Laura gestures dramatically and Derek already knows what’s coming because the only one that’s missing is Stiles, Laura’s new best friend. Derek has come up with all sorts of horrible visions of what he might look like, all to fit a horrible sister stealer, but all of them pale against reality. A buzzcut, lickable moles, and obscenely pink lips are the first things Derek notices, followed by the most gorgeous eyes he has ever seen, almost werewolf golden and with a twinkle that holds teasing promise.

“This is Stiles,” Laura finishes with a flourish.

And Derek thinks: “Oh god, he’s pretty.”

And Laura cackles in delight.

[the-redcrate]

Forged in Flesh

Pairing: Derek Hale & Laura Hale Rating: unrated Status: complete Word count: 906

Alpha, Beta,Omega—we can rise to one or fall to another.

Written for day two of Laura Hale Appreciation Week, Alpha Laura

Tags: tattoos; scarification; diy medical procedure

[a-little-excited]

For @laurahale-appreciation, I was meant to post this yesterday for the twins theme but oh well, we’re here now.

__

It was Laura and Derek’s birthday, and a good one, too. They were turning 13, which meant they normally hated each other, but it’s hard to act like you hate your ‘womb-buddy,’ as Laura said, on the day you both came screeching into the world. They had a long-standing birthday truce, only partly enforced by mum and dad. It was sunny and clear so mum and dad took the whole pack out to the lake tucked away in the Preserve where humans were unlikely to stumble upon them. Here, even more so than at home, they could be themselves.  

They splashed and played and let their eyes flash gold in the hot afternoon sun. Eric, now 16, sunbaked and pretended to be annoyed when all the siblings pounced on him and pretended to eat him. Later when they were exhausted and happy back at the house, mum brought out two twin cakes big enough to feed the entire pack twice.

That night when silence finally fell, Laura climbed into Derek’s bed, aggressively spooning him so he couldn’t huff and turn away, and whispered “Happy birthday little bro.”

“I’m only two minutes younger than you!” Derek replied indignantly. It wouldn’t stop her from saying it, but at this point it was a matter of principle to argue.

This time Laura didn’t take the bait, though. This time, she said “I wish I wasn’t the oldest.”

She sighed and buried her head at the nape of Derek’ neck.

“I don’t want to be the Alpha.”

Derek felt his eyes widen.

“What? Yes you do!” If 13 years of being bossed around and taunted by Laura has taught Derek anything, it’s that she wants to be his Alpha when they grow up.

Laura sighed again. “But all that responsibility, Der. How am I meant to - a whole pack -"

“Mum will help you, though."

Another sigh, and then silence.

“And I’ll help you,” Derek adds.

“But what if I’m a bad Alpha and then everyone leaves,” Laura whispers. She laughs a bit afterwards, like she knows it’s ridiculous but she can’t help thinking it.

Now it’s Derek’s turn to heave a big sigh. He rolls over and tucks Laura’s head under his chin, their flannel-clad legs tangling together.

“We’re twins, Laur. You couldn’t get rid of me even if you wanted to."

[clotpolesonly]

Say That You Won’t, I Pray That You Don’t

this was actually one of the prompts sent in for a mod ficlet on the @laurahale-appreciation blog, the only one of them that i didn’t manage to write before the event started. so i figured now would be a good time to get it done! it’s sad as fuck and i blame the anon for my tears, but here’s my day 7 entry.

anon prompt:  "Please just let me forget" and "I'm afraid you're going to replace me". They don't have to be in the same prompt fill tho. Thank you!!!

also on AO3

Derek sees Laura sometimes. He catches fleeting glimpses of her in crowds, or in shop windows as he walks past. Just for a split second usually. When he’s in an especially bad place, he’ll swear he sees her, standing right in front of him with her hand outstretched. She’s never there when he looks again.

The first time he hears her, he brushes it off. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s thought he heard someone calling his name when they really hadn’t. It was probably someone half a mile away talking to someone else entirely. It’s hard to tell voices apart from that sort of distance anyway. It wasn’t Laura’s voice, no matter how much he may have wanted it to be. She was gone.

He told himself that over and over again, every time he could swear he caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye, every time he thinks he hears her voice on the wind. She’s gone. She’s dead. She isn’t there. She can’t be there.

It gets harder to convince himself of that when the vision he has of her looks back at him for a second too long to ignore. When he starts hearing more than just his name from her.

He ignores it. It’s not real, he reminds himself again and again, clenching his fists until his claws cut into his palms. It’s just an overactive imagination combined with grief. He misses her so much that he’s conjuring her up to keep himself from being alone. It’s pathetic, but he would never claim to be anything else at this point. Not after losing her, and his betas so soon after.

The loft is big and empty and already full of painful memories, so it makes some sense there for him to feel so...

He shies away from the word “haunted,” even in his thoughts. It’s starting to feel all too plausible.

The feeling follows him, more and more frequent as the months pass. He manages to pull himself back onto his feet, builds a stronger relationship with Scott and Stiles, reconnects with Isaac a bit. He’s starting to feel like a human being again, like a functional person who maybe has a handle on himself.

So why is he still seeing her?

He can’t seem to make her go away these days. Everywhere he turns, she’s there, the specter of her more solid and present and long-lasting by the day, her voice a constant drone in the back of his mind like a running commentary of his day. The longer it goes on, the more convinced he is that he’s losing his mind, but no amount of coping mechanisms or rationalizations make any difference.

Why is this happening? He was imagining her, wasn’t he? But that was before, when he was at his lowest. Now he’s not alone anymore or desperate for anything he can cling to to keep himself moving forward every day instead of ending it all then and there. Whatever purpose this sick delusion once served, it’s over now. It should be over.

And yet here Laura is, hovering at the edge of his peripheral vision, looking for all the world like she’s just lounging on his couch. She’s talking, sounding exactly like Laura always sounded except distant, a tiny bit echoey, like she’s speaking from inside a tunnel.

“Really, Der,” she’s saying. “More frozen pizzas? You know better than to eat that trash. It doesn’t even taste good. What happened to all those dishes you learned to make back in New York? You’re such a good cook! Ooh, you should make that linguini dish you made for my birthday year before last. What I wouldn’t give for some more of that—”

“Stop it.”

The words come out choked, forcing their way through his tight throat and past his clenched teeth before he could hold them back. His claws dig into the wood of his only table, the one he lets Stiles pin maps to or cover with innumerable books when there’s some crisis to be handled. Now it’s just supporting Derek’s weight, since his legs don’t seem up to the task anymore. The back of his neck prickles like there are eyes on him, but he can’t bring himself to turn around and look.

It’s the first time he’s acknowledged her.

She’s stopped talking and for a brief, dizzying moment Derek thinks that was the end of it, that she’s disappeared for good. That he really has been imagining it all along and he’ll turn to find nothing but empty air and mocking silence. Then she laughs.

“Stop what, silly?” she asks, light and unconcerned.

“Stop it,” Derek repeats, harsh. The wood under his hands creaks. “Just stop.”

“Is that really any way to talk to your big sister?” she teases him.

He growls, the sound echoing around him in the empty space.

“You’re not,” he says. “You’re not her. You can’t be.”

A cold wind brushes past him. There’s no sound of movement, but he’s certain that if he were to look, he would see her standing now, maybe coming his way. He doesn’t turn.

“Of course I am, Derek,” she says. “I’m right here.”

"No. I don’t know what you are, but the real Laura is gone.”

His voice cracks, but he pushes the words out anyway. They need to be said. He’ll say them as much as he needs to, he can handle that now. At least, as long as he doesn’t have to look into her eyes when he says it. He keeps his own shut.

“I’m not gone,” the specter insists, her voice closer now and, god, it really does sound just like her. “I’m right here. It’s me, Der. It’s Laura.”

Derek shakes his head, a monumental effort with how hard it’s proving just to stay upright. “The real Laura wouldn’t do this to me,” he says.

“Do what?”

"All of this!” Derek shouts. The chill is right behind him now, brushing across his shoulder, and he cringes away from the feeling, refusing to turn. “Following me around. Making fucking small talk about dinner. Acting like you’re still... Like she’s still here when she’s not. The real Laura wouldn’t do that to me. It’s cruel.”

“I couldn’t just leave you alone, could I?” she says. “You’re my brother. My pack. I swore that I would protect you and be there for you, always. I know it took me a while to make it back to you completely, but I’m here now. It’s the two of us together like we’ve always been.”

Derek’s eyes stung. He tried to blink the feeling away, but it was stubborn and refused to budge. Hearing her voice like this, hearing his sister and alpha tell him that she was there for him. How many times had Laura said that to him? How many times had he clung to her at night while she petted his hair and said exactly that to ward off the nightmares?

“Please,” he says in a cracked whisper.

“What do you need, Der?” Laura asked. “Tell me what you need and I’ll do it. You know I would do anything for you.”

“Please just let me forget.”

He hears a sharp intake of breath. It slices through him and he looks up almost against his will, still too attuned to the sound of his sister’s pain to ignore it even after all this time. His eyes find the wall of windows, black against the night sky. There’s a reflection there, pale and distorted but unmistakable. It doesn’t waver or disappear like it used to.

“Forget?” Laura repeats weakly. “I—I don’t want you to forget me.”

“I have to.” It hurts Derek to say it. It feels like shards of glass in his throat, and also like poison leached from a festering wound. “I need to, Laura. I need to move on with my life. How am I supposed to do that if you’re always pulling me back?”

“But I’m here,” Laura says again, more urgent, like she’s trying to make him understand. In the reflection, Derek sees her step closer, reaching out like she’s going to touch him. “You don’t need to move on if you didn’t really lose me, do you? I’m not going anywhere, Der. I came back for you. I’m here for you.”

There’s something in her words, in the false-bright tone and the way she pushes. Something that gives him pause. Derek swallows hard, ignoring the cold sweat on the back of his neck, and turns around.

She’s there. A bit fuzzy around the edges. A little washed out, like she’s a pair of jeans that’s been run through the washing machines too many times. But she’s solid and steady and staring at him with wide, wet eyes the exact same shade as his own. He knows those eyes. There’s no mistaking them. And he knows the emotion behind them too.

“You didn’t come back for me,” he says. “You did it for you.”

She shakes her head. “What do you mean? Of course I did.”

“No,” Derek says. “You did it for you. Because you’re afraid.”

“Derek—” she starts, hesitant in that way she always was when she wasn’t being entirely honest.

“You didn’t want to die,” Derek cuts across her. “You still don’t. You don’t want to...to cross over, or go into the light, or whatever the hell it is. So what is it, Laura? Fear of the unknown? Of finding out what comes next? What are you so afraid of that you can’t let go?”

For a moment, Laura’s mouth opens and closes without any sounds coming out. He thinks there might be tears on her cheeks, but it’s hard to tell. It’s like she’s just a tiny bit out of focus, the details of her blurred ever so slightly. Suddenly, she smiles, watery and unconvincing.

“I’m afraid you’re going to replace me,” she says. “Forget me. That I’ll...move on, and you’ll find someone new to lean on, and I’ll just disappear completely and it’ll be like I never even existed.”

“Laura,” Derek croaks, losing the battle against his own tears.

“I don’t want you to be alone,” Laura hurries to say. “It’s not that I don’t want you to have people who care about you if they aren’t me. But—”

“I could never forget you, Laur.”

She just looks at him, long and steady and sad. “You just said you wanted to.”

Derek shakes his head, wishing not for the first time that he was better with words. “That’s not— I just— ” He drags his hands across his face, wiping away the wetness there as best he can.

“I can’t have you here when you’re not,” he says finally. “I don’t have you because you’re gone, but I can’t remember you if you’re still here.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, little bro,” Laura says on a weak laugh.

“Doesn’t it?”

The smile on Laura’s face falters. For the first time since it all began, Derek takes a step toward her. Then another, and another, until he’s right in front of her, close enough that he could reach out and touch if he weren’t so afraid of finding nothing there.

“Laura, I love you more than anything,” he says, aching with how true it is. “Still and always. No matter how long you’ve been gone or who else comes into my life, that’s never going to change.”

“I love you too,” Laura says.

“If you love me,” Derek tells her, trying to sound firm, to force the tremor out of his voice, “then you’ll go. For both our sakes.”

“Der,” she says, one last halfhearted appeal.

“You’re an open wound for me, Laura,” Derek says. “And besides. Don’t you think the others have waited long enough to have you back with them?”

Something like hope made its way onto her face then, something wistful and fond.

“You think they’ll be there?” she asks.

Derek’s smile is brittle, bittersweet. “I’m sure they will be. And Laura—”

His hand comes up, moving to brush a strand of hair out of her face. It obeys the gesture, but he doesn’t feel the contact. Not even when he traces his knuckles down her cheek. She closes her eyes and leans into it anyway, so maybe she can feel it even if he can’t. That’s something, at least.

He lets his hand fall and says, “We never forgot them, did we? No matter how long ago it was, they were always with us. How could you think you would be any different?”

Laura ducks her head. She sniffs against her own tears, but when she raises her head she’s smiling again.

“When did you get so grown up and wise anyway?” she asks, almost teasing again. She doesn’t wait for an answer though. Instead, she throws her arms around Derek in a hug.

He almost thinks he can feel it. He’s been hugged by her so many times in his life, he knows exactly how it would feel. The weight of her in his arms, her heat, the scent of her hair where he buries his nose in it. The mere memory of it is almost tangible enough to convince him that it’s not an illusion, and he clings to that for as long as he can.

“I love you, baby brother,” she whispers. “I’ll tell the others you said hello. Don’t join us too soon, okay?”

There’s a chill in the air, sending a shiver through him.

When he opens his eyes, he’s alone.

[huffleluff]

ghost of you

this is an amalgamation of several prompts for laura hale appreciation week. i wrote this…in much less time than i usually would, and the last 8.5k words or so were written over the last four days, so apologies for any weirdness and/or errors that you find in it. also, ngl, the angst got a little out of hand sooo sorry for that too.

available with full tags on ao3 | laura hale/lydia martin

***

Not everyone exposed to the same traumatic event reacts the same way. That’s what the matronly social worker had said to Laura over and over in the weeks following the fire that killed most of her family.

Laura repeats that sentence to herself as she watches the faces of her remaining family at the memorial service–reminds herself of it when Peter says the family business needs him to stay in New York for a few months, a single suitcase at his feet. When Cora announces that she had been accepted into a study away program in South America for her last two years of high school.

It is harder to accept the changes in Derek.

Even though Laura and Derek aren’t identical, it’s impossible to miss the fact that they’re twins. There’s the physical resemblance, of course–dark hair, thick eyebrows, and a prominent, straight nose. But it’s more than that, or at least, it used to be. They both take their coffee black. On family pizza nights, they’d order a large pizza with pineapple, bacon, and pickled jalapenos to share. Laura knows about Derek’s secret love of Jane Austen novels, and that he prefers the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice . They used to be on the same wave length. Laura only had to look up across the room, and Derek would be looking back at her, smiling in shared understanding.

The fire took that away from them, and Laura is beginning to think they might never get it back. It has been almost a year since the fire, and when Laura looks at Derek, her brow furrowed in worry, he always seems to be staring off into the distance. They’d never gone longer than a day without talking before, and now it seems like weeks can pass without them ever saying anything more substantive than, “We’re out of milk, can you pick some up at the grocery store?”

The fire makes Derek quiet, withdrawn. He hunches his shoulders like he can’t bare to take up the physical space that he used to, and he flinches everytime he sees a blonde out of the corner of his eye, even though Kate Argent is in jail and will, with any luck, rot there until the end of time. He picks through his food and in during summer before they leave for college, he sometimes sleeps twelve or fourteen hours a day.

Laura doesn’t understand how he can sleep. Nervous energy thrums through her body, and it’s a thousand times worse at night, like maybe the remnant of her connection to Derek means that he can offload his anxiety onto her so he can sleep. She lies awake in her bed, her heart thrumming, until she can’t handle it any longer and she has to just get in the car and drive. The shadows under her eyes grow larger and darker, and there isn’t a back road in a fifty mile radius she doesn’t recognize.

~*~

Derek was the brainiac in the family, but Laura doesn’t say anything when she sees the acceptance letter to Brown at the top of the garbage can, or when they send out two deposit checks–courtesy of the sizable life insurance check that she doesn’t like to think about–to Beacon Hills University in March. She hadn’t liked the thought of Derek on the opposite coast, with miles of mountains and cities and farmland in between them, even before three quarters of their family had been decimated.

This is how Laura comes to be leaning on a doorframe in Mathis Hall, watching Derek shove his clothing into the little three-drawer pine dresser wedged underneath his bed. Like her room in Rhodes Hall, the dorm room is small, but neither of them have much–they’d lost almost everything in the fire.

“You can go unpack your room, Laura,” Derek says, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. “I’m fine.”

“I will,” Laura says, but she doesn’t make an attempt to move. “Are you going to be alright?” Living with a stranger, she almost adds, but she bites her tongue. She doesn’t understand why Derek didn’t want to pay for a single. They have the insurance money. Now he’s going to be stuck with some weird Polish kid with an unpronounceable name.

“I’m fine , Laura,” Derek says. It’s quiet for a second before he adds, “And don’t play the big sister card, either.” She can tell he’s trying to defuse the tension, but the familiar joke falls a little flat.

It’s awkward, more awkward than she thought it would be–leaving this room, going back to her sterile, bare dorm room, the walls so close together she can stand in the middle of the room, reach out, and touch them on both sides. She walks quickly over to Derek, squeezes his arm. Plants a quick kiss on his cheek.

“Eight minutes older, and I’ll never let you forget it,” she says softly, managing a small smile.

The moment is interrupted when three cardboard moving boxes, stacked one on top of the other, come barreling into the room. Laura can see jeans and tennis shoes below the boxes, and winces as the new arrival catches his foot on the corner of the desk, sending himself and all three boxes sliding across the floor with a yelp.

Getting a good look at the boy, Laura isn’t surprised that he tripped. He’s tall and gangly, with feet and hands too big for his body, hinting that he isn’t done growing yet. His hair sticks up in all directions, and he’s wearing a plaid flannel shirt, like it isn’t still summertime in California. He looks up at them and winces. “Uh–hi. I’m Stiles.”

Laura and Derek exchange looks, and for a second, the awkwardness between them is forgotten. Derek’s eyes are wide, like maybe he’s wondering what he got himself into after all. Laura snorts.

A second boy sticks his head through the doorway cautiously. He has a television in his hands. “Jesus Christ, Stiles.” This one is shorter, with light brown skin and a mop of dark hair that curls at the ends.

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles mutters, sitting up.

“I’m Derek,” Derek says suddenly, looking at the boy who hovers in the doorway. “Are you, uh–”

“That’s Scott, he’s my best friend, his room is down at the end of the hall,” Stiles interrupts. “I’m Mieczyslaw–don’t even try and pronounce it, Stiles is easier. Scotty, you coming in?”

“You going to destroy anything else?” Scott mutters, but he walks in and drops the television on Stiles’s unmade bed.

Laura watches Derek, who watches Scott as he collapses onto one of the now-dented cardboard boxes. Stiles, who hadn’t bothered to stand back up after his fall, simply lays back down on the floor. “It’s too hot to unpack,” he moans. “Why couldn’t the school year start in October?”

“Then you’d have to pack everything up to go home in June,” Laura points out. “It’s not much better.”

Stiles starts, like maybe he hadn’t realized she was there. Derek is still carefully inspecting Scott, so Laura elbows him in the ribs.

“Ow,” Derek says, then–when Laura raises her arm to elbow him again– “Oh, uh, this is my sister. Laura.”

“Are you living in Mathis Hall too?” Scott asks politely.

“No, Rhodes,” Laura replies. And then, when Scott and Stiles don’t look like they’re moving any time soon to finish bringing in Stiles’s things, she adds. “I’d better get back there. Unpack, settle in.”

Stiles makes a noncommittal noise. Scott smiles at her. “Good luck,” he says.

Derek reaches out, gives her a one-armed hug. “I’ll be fine,” he says quietly, so only she can hear. “Go. Unpack.”

“Do you want to meet up later for dinner?” she asks.

Derek hesitates, looking over at Stiles and Scott. “Maybe. I don’t know. Maybe they’ll want to–you know. Hang out.”

Laura personally thinks Stiles looks completely uninterested in interacting with anyone who isn’t Scott, but she can tell that’s the wrong thing to say. “Okay,” she says. “I’ll see you…around.”

Derek doesn’t respond. He grabs a hoodie out of his suitcase and shoves it into the dresser.

Laura backs out of the dorm room slowly, eyes burning.

~*~

Living cheek by jowl with one hundred and fifty odd eighteen- and nineteen-year-olds creates the sort of energy that’s almost palpable. There’s always people studying in the common areas, someone belting out Disney songs in the shared hall bathroom, or drunk girls stumbling through the staircases, their laughter echoing through the building. Once, inexplicably, Laura opened her dorm room on a Thursday night just in time to watch a fratty-looking freshman pedal down the hall on a unicycle, hoisting a set of bagpipes on his shoulder. She didn’t bother to question it, just took a second to thank God that he wasn’t actually playing the bagpipes.

Paradoxically, the constant thrum of activity seems to help Laura sleep. She crashes onto the bed in her single in afternoons when her classes are over, and sometimes manages four or five hours of sleep before a sudden moment of stillness brings her abruptly into wakefulness. No matter how much she tries, she can never manage to fall back asleep after those moments. On the bright side, she might be the only freshman who doesn’t sleep through at least one eight-thirty class during the first two weeks of school.

There is one significant downside to her new sleeping schedule, however: by the time she wakes up at seven or seven-thirty in the evenings, the dining hall on the East Campus has stopped setting out fresh food, and what is left under the heating lamps is sad and wilting. Derek has already eaten–he goes to dinner at five with Scott and Stiles, right after Scott gets out of lacrosse practice. Laura’s joined them, once or twice, and she eats her dinner in silence, watching Derek watch Scott, and how the tips of Scott’s ears turn pink on the rare occasion Derek is bold enough to address him.

Stiles is oblivious, Laura thinks. He treats Derek with a good-natured sort of indifference, chattering on about his classes, Jackson Whittemore (some guy on their hall who, according to Stiles, is a total ass), and–the history of circumcision?

“I don’t know how you can sleep with him in the room,” Laura tells Derek one afternoon, when she’s managed to drag him away from Stiles and Scott long enough to get lunch at the Student Center. “Aren’t you afraid you’re going to wake up one morning and he’s going to have–I don’t know, set your textbooks on fire to cook some ramen?”

“He’s alright,” Derek says, his voice dry. “He doesn’t snore nearly as loudly as some roommates I’ve had.”

Laura, who shared a bedroom with Derek until they were both fourteen, sticks her tongue out at him. After a minute, she adds, “I think you’re just too chickenshit to ask Scott to hang out alooone .”

Derek ducks his head. With some shock, Laura realizes he’s blushing. “We’re going to a party this weekend,” he mutters.

Laura’s spoon clatters against her plate. “You’re–what? You’re going out with him? Without his shadow?”

“God, Laura,” Derek says. “Don’t be such a bitch.”

“I’m not!” Laura insists, even though she knows she kind of is. “I mean–good for you. Scott’s alright, I guess.”

“He’s–great,” Derek says softly. “He’s really great.”

“Don’t drink too much,” Laura says loftily. “Keep an eye on your drink. Make sure to use a cond–”

“Laura!”

~*~

Laura is well-acquainted with the library by the time her first essay is due–it’s the only building on campus that’s open 24/7. She takes her homework when she goes, but it’s more interesting to people-watch, to guess who’s going to be pulling an all-nighter and which couples are going to end up making out in the stacks. She doesn’t really visit the library during the day, except sometimes to take a cat nap between her two classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Tomorrow, though, her first essay is due in American Government, and she hasn’t really made much headway yet. She’s not too nervous about it–it’s only 9:30, and it’s not like she’d be sleeping tonight, anyways. Still, writing has never been her forte, and seeing her laptop and the books spread out on the table in front of her makes her a little nervous.

She’s two hours and about three-quarters of a page into the assignment when someone slides into the chair across from her. Laura looks up, startled.

Her first thought is that the girl in front of her is about to ask Laura to donate money to build schools for children in Haiti or something. She’s seen a lot of sorority girls sitting at tables in front of the library or the dining hall soliciting money for some cause or another. True, their tactics usually involve more banners and less accosting people trying desperately to write–but this girl still screams sorority.

She’s also maybe the prettiest girl Laura’s ever seen. She has long golden red hair that tumbles over her shoulders in loose curls and pale skin with the barest dusting of light freckles across her nose. Her large hazel eyes are framed with carefully darkened eyelashes, and her lips are a natural-looking pink. Still, it’s the way that she smells that really throws Laura off, like the carefully tended butterfly bush in the backyard of her old house. It reminds Laura of the summertime.

“Can I help you?” Laura asks, her voice squeaking.

“I was just going to ask you the same thing,” the girl says. Her smile is slow and warm. “You’ve spent the last half hour glaring at your computer. You have some pretty impressive eyebrows–I could tell you were scowling from the reference desk. I’m Lydia, by the way.”

“I’m Laura.” Laura looks over the girl’s shoulder. The reference desk is against the back wall, with a sign sitting on top that says Back In 10 Minutes. “Oh, yeah, it’s just–” Laura shrugs one shoulder. “I’m working on my first Government essay of the semester. You know how it is.”

“Due tomorrow?” Lydia asks, looking amused.

“Yep,” Laura says, and sighs.

“Sounds like you have a long night ahead of you,” Lydia says.

“Unfortunately,” Laura replies. “A long, boring night.”

Lydia laughs. “So you’re not into politics, then? Or just not into essays?”

“Either,” Laura replied gloomily. “Although I’m not really sure–” she grabs a book and pushes it towards Lydia, “that The Growth of the American Government from the Reconstruction through World War II really counts as politics.”

“I don’t know,” Lydia replied mildly. “People who lived during the Reconstruction and World War II might disagree with you.” She casually opens the book and looks at the description on the inside of the book jacket.

“Maybe,” Laura replies. Her cheeks feel hot–she doesn’t like feeling like maybe this gorgeous girl thinks she’s an idiot–but she adds defiantly, “I didn’t major in Landscape Architecture so I could write papers on dead cabinet members.”

One corner of Lydia’s mouth curves upward. “I guess not.”

“What are you majoring in?” Laura asks impulsively. “What year are you?”

“Sophomore. Mathematics,” Lydia says.

Laura blinks. “Okay. I was not expecting that.”

“What were you expecting?” Lydia asks.

“I don’t know.” Laura gestures at their surroundings. “Library science? Fashion design, maybe. The Growth of the American Government from the Reconstruction through World War II?”

“All worthwhile pursuits, I’m sure,” Lydia says dryly. “Well, I better let you get back to it. Good luck with the paper.” She pushes herself away from the table.

“Thanks. Bye,” Laura says. Watching Lydia walk back to the reference desk, she can’t help but take a second to appreciate Lydia’s legs, clad in mint-colored skinny jeans. She’s so goddamn sexy that Laura thinks she might have been a hallucination, or possibly a mirage brought on by the flickering of the fluorescent light bulb over the table next to hers.

Laura doesn’t get much work done until Lydia packs up her bag and leaves just after one a.m., but she still somehow manages to finish the essay before class starts at 8:30.

~*~

Laura reclines on Derek’s bed, watching her brother fuss with his hair in the mirror. He’s wearing khaki slacks and a pastel pink dress shirt. Laura makes a face. The color is disturbing. A pink-and-green patterned bow tie lays crumpled on the desk next to him.

“I still don’t understand why you’re going,” Laura grumbles.

Derek looks at her coolly over his shoulder. “It’ll be fun, Laura.”

“It’s going to be lame!” she argues. “Freshman are the only ones who actually go to the homecoming dance!”

“So we should go this year, before it’s too late,” Derek says.

Laura points at him. “ That ,” she says vehemently, “is what Scott said to you to get you to go, isn’t it?”

Derek shrugs.

It’s Friday, in the middle of October, and the campus has been a hub of activity and energy all week. Chicken wire and colored tissue paper litter the lawn as the Greek organizations on campus compete to build the best float–the winner gets a $2000 donation to their charity of choice–and Laura is pretty sure the sorority girls have actually gotten less sleep this week than she has. Meanwhile, class attendance had taken a sharp dive by Thursday, and even Laura didn’t bother to show up to her American government class this morning. She’d passed three frat guys on a couch in the middle of campus, sipping God knows what from red Solo cups, on her way to the dining hall for lunch.

The football game tomorrow is something Laura understands, even though she’s not big on school spirit and their football team sucks. She’s pretty sure the entire student population will either be in the stadium sporting flasks or on the mall dumping mini bottles of rum into coke cans. That’s the kind of celebration she can get behind. But this–

“It’s not even like it’s all freshmen,” she says, her voice perilously close to a whine. “It’s for lame freshmen who haven’t figured out how to socialize outside school-sponsored events!”

“Sounds like you’d fit right in,” Derek mutters darkly.

Laura sits up. “I socialize!” she snaps.

Derek opens his mouth, then shuts it. His shoulders slump. Hesitantly, he approaches his bed, then hoists himself up onto it to sit next to her. After a second, he leans in to her and drapes an arm over her shoulder.

“Laura,” he says softly. “You haven’t done anything since we got to college. No parties. No mandatory freshman social events. You don’t do anything with the people on your hall–”

“I went to their Disney movie night in Baker Hall!” Laura protests.

Derek just looks at her. “That was the second week of classes, Laura. You don’t ever eat with anyone in the dining hall, when you actually bother to go–”

“I eat with you!” Laura says, aghast.

Derek tightens his arm around her. “I’m your brother, your twin brother,” he says softly. “It doesn’t count.”

“ And Scott is there, and Stiles,” Laura adds.

“My boyfriend and his best friend, neither of whom you actually like,” Derek says dryly.

“I like Scott,” Laura protests. Yes, she was worried when Derek first started dating him–with Derek’s dating history, who wouldn’t be?–but by now, even Laura could tell that Scott genuinely likes Derek. “And you don’t like Stiles, either.”

“He grows on you,” Derek says dryly.

“Like killer mold,” Laura mutters.

“That’s not the point. Laura, I’m worried about you.”

Laura jerks away from Derek. His arm falls away from her shoulders. Startled, unsure of what to say, all she can do is look at him.

Worried? Derek? About her ? Yes, they’re twins, but for all intents and purposes, Laura has always been the older sister. Derek is sweet and sensitive, was prone to excessive clumsiness throughout his teenage years, and he’s someone who loves too hard and too easily. He needs her to protect him. It is her fault that Kate–but that isn’t what they’re talking about right now. Right now, they’re talking about Derek and worried about you and the role reversal leaves Laura reeling.

“I’m fine, Derek,” Laura says blankly.

“Are you?” Derek asks. “It’s not just that you never do anything, either. You’re still not sleeping–I can tell you aren’t, so don’t try to lie to me.”

“Half the student population won’t be sleeping next week when they remember they’ve got midterms,” Laura says. “I’m just getting the jump on them.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “I’m serious, Laura.”

“So am I. There’s nothing wrong. You’re worrying about nothing.”

“Laura–”

Derek’s dorm room door flies open and Stiles, wearing a black dress shirt, black slacks, and silver tie, tumbles through. Laura scowls at Stiles, though her reaction is mostly due to habit–by this point in the semester, she’s used to his haphazard entrances. As always, Scott follows a couple of seconds behind his best friend. Like Derek, he’s wearing khakis. His button down shirt is pastel green, and he’s wearing a pink-and-green patterned bowtie.

“Hey Laura!” Scott says. “Hey Derek–you’re not wearing your bowtie!”

“I don’t think I’m made for bowties,” Derek grumbles.

“’Course you are,” Scott says amiably. “Where is it? Here, let me help you tie it.”

Laura watches as Scott fumbles with the bowtie while Stiles begins to mess around on his laptop. It takes a couple of tries–”It’s harder to do it from this angle. Shut up Stiles,” “I didn’t say anything!” “I could hear you smirking,”–but Scott finally succeeds. Derek smiles down fondly at him.

“Gross,” Laura says suddenly, taking in Scott and Derek’s pink and green attire and matching bowties. “Did you guys seriously color coordinate?”

“Shut up, Laura,” Derek says.

Scott laughs. “Feeling left out?” he asks. “There’s still time! You can come with us, if you want.”

Laura thinks about the homecoming dance her freshman year of high school–she had worn an awful pink taffeta dress and her hair had been curled into ringlets–and shudders delicately. “No thanks,” she says. “I think I’ll leave the dances to you two lovebirds. And Sidekick McGee, of course.”

“Fuck off,” Stiles says without heat. Laura sticks her tongue out at him.

“He’s feeling a little sensitive about the whole third wheel thing,” Scott fake-whispers. “He tried to ask out a hot redhead at the library and she turned him down.”

Thinking about her own encounter with a hot redhead in the library, Laura flushes furiously. She wouldn’t go so far as to say she was avoidingLydia–she’s pretty sure you have to actually know someone before you can really avoid them–but she’s been staying off of that floor of the library at night, just in case. Not flunking American government this semester means studying, a lot, and that becomes a problem when all she wants to do is fantasize about a sexy reference desk worker who smells like flowers.

Stiles makes a face at Scott. “She was a strawberry blonde.”

“Whatever, dude,” Scott says. “Last chance, Laura. Think about all the non-alcoholic punch you’re missing out on.”

“It will be fun,” Derek adds, looking at her pointedly.

Laura hops off the bed, avoids his eyes. “Sorry, but I’m ditching you guys. I’ve got a hot date with Netflix,” she says, and saunters out of the room.

~*~

Originally, Laura’s plan for homecoming was to spend the weekend holed up in the library, but the hallway in her dorm room is strangely quiet–Laura thinks that some of the girls might have left their rooms Thursday night with no plans to return until Sunday–and it makes her skin itch. The library is also deserted, but at least it’s quietness is characteristic. She misses the sounds of pages turning and frantic typic and the general atmosphere of thinly veiled panic, but there’s no competition for the squishiest armchairs. Laura manages to fall asleep sometime around five a.m. Saturday morning and sleeps until almost ten.

She’s feeling relatively well-rested, and maybe that’s why she reconsiders Derek’s words from the night before. She still thinks he’s overreacting, but maybe–probably–this weird new side of Derek that fusses over her sleep schedule and her social life is just another byproduct of the fire. So, in the interest of having something to defend herself with the next time he gets touchy-feely, Laura decides to go out.

She swings by her dorm room and swaps out her sweatpants for skinny jeans, but leaves her BHU t-shirt on. Homecoming is about school spirit, right? She grabs a sweatshirt and her phone, about to text Derek, but hesitates. Was he serious when he said that hanging out with him didn’t count as socialization? They’d both had people who they were friendly with in high school, people they went shopping or hit up arcades with, but none of those casual acquaintanceships came close to the friendship that they’d had with one another.

Derek had dated Paige, of course, and there was the whole fucked up Kate Argent situation. But Laura had never dated anyone, even after she’d came out as a lesbian. Their high school had been big enough to have an active little GSA, but she’d never really clicked with any of the girls there.

Maybe she was just antisocial by nature, she thinks, but no one had ever noticed before the fire because it was damn near impossible to get any alone time when you have 12 people living under the same roof.

Hardening her resolve, Laura drops her cell phone into her pocket. She will let Scott and Derek have their alone time, assuming Stiles isn’t still tagging along with them. She’ll wander around the mall, and see if she can find any of the other girls who live on her hall.

The mall is packed with tents and awnings and people. Students and alumni are lounging in lawn chairs and on blankets spread on the ground and the occasional crappy couch that some frat guys had purchased used for the sole purpose of tailgating. The parking lot adjacent to the mall is just as full. It seems like every group of people has their own speakers set up, and the music–mostly either Top 40 or country–runs together as Laura walks down the mall. People play cornhole and flip cup, cook over grills, and barely bother to disguise the fact that they’re drinking in the middle of campus.

It takes her nearly half an hour, but she does finally find a couple of familiar faces–Kira and Allison, who live in the room near the communal kitchen on her hall, are sitting on lawn chairs under a large BHU awning. There’s a handful of other people in the general vicinity, but not too many, and when Laura catches Kira’s eye and waves hesitantly, Kira beckons her over.

“Laura!” Kira shouts. “It’s so good to see you! Isn’t this great?”

“It’s something,” Laura says laconically.

Kira laughs. “I feel like I’m in a college movie!”

“If we were in a college movie,” Allison says, raising her voice, “someone would bring Laura a drink!”

“You hear that, Jackson?” A somewhat familiar voice calls from behind Laura. “Laura needs a drink.”

Flushing, Laura turns around slowly. Sure enough, she recognizes the redhead standing directly behind her, a water bottle full of pink liquid in one hand: Lydia. Even though it’s October, she’s wearing tiny denim shorts and a BHU t-shirt that she’s cropped so it barely covers her breasts. Her stomach is painted maroon, with yellow text that reads “BHU!” and she has the school emblem done up in rhinestones on one cheek.

“Hey, Lyds,” Allison says, sounding surprised. “You know one another?”

“We’ve met,” Lydia says, smiling at Laura. “How’d the paper turn out?”

“I got a B minus,” Laura says stiffly.

Lydia makes a noncommittal noise. “Not bad, for your first college essay.”

“Oh, don’t gloat, Lydia,” Kira says, and sighs. “Lydia is a genius, Laura. It’s very unfair to the rest of us.”

“I figured as much,” Laura says. When Lydia raises an eyebrow at her, she adds, “They only let geniuses major in math, right?”

“Tell that to some of my classmates,” Lydia says dryly. Then, sounding a little uncomfortable: “I didn’t mean to come across as bitchy.”

“You didn’t,” Laura says.

“If you ever want company while you’re studying–” Lydia begins.

“Hey, Lyds!” A ripped dude with a ridiculous jawline strolls over. He presses a cold can of Miller Lite into Laura’s hand, barely looking at her, then gives Lydia a half-armed hug. “They let you out of the library?”

Looking at his arm around Lydia, Laura scowls. She should have guessed that a girl like Lydia would have a boyfriend that thought wearing socks with Nike sandals was the epitome of style. She pops the top on the Miller Lite and takes a cautious sip. It tastes like crap.

“I’m a social creature. They have to let me out sometime,” Lydia says, sidling away from Muscular McDouchebag. “Laura, I’m sorry to say that you have accidentally walked in on my unofficial high school reunion. This is my ex, Jackson.”

Laura takes another sip of the beer. “Nice to meet you,” she says grudgingly.

“Yeah, you too,” Jackson says, looking furtively back and forth between Laura and Lydia. “So…do you guys want to play flip cup?”

~*~

Laura decides three beers in that the Miller Lite doesn’t taste that bad, but she’s still not a fan. Still, she feels pleasantly warm–she’s beginning to realize why everyone is in shorts and tanktops–and there are worse ways to spend a Saturday. She’s sitting in a lawnchair in the shade, lazily watching the people walk up and down the mall, when Lydia plops onto the ground next to her.

“Having fun?” Lydia asks.

“It’s not so bad,” Laura replies. “Why do you work in the library if you’re majoring in mathematics?”

Lydia shrugs. “I like research. I like books. It’s slightly less tedious than working at Victoria’s Secret, which is what I do during the summers. Plus, I get the chance to meet grouchy girls who hate American politics.”

“Hate is a strong word. And I’m not grouchy–it’s just the eyebrows. It’s a family curse.” Derek would call her out for lying if he were here, but right now, all Laura wants is for this smart, sexy girl to–what? Be her new best friend? Paint her toe nails? Rest her head on Laura’s thigh, so she can run her fingers through the increasingly disheveled bun that Lydia had wrestled the golden red waves into?

Yes, Laura thinks, she really wants that last one. She scowls.

“See?” Lydia reaches up and taps Laura’s forehead with one delicate, manicured fingernail. “Grouchy. It’s probably the lack of sleep.”

“I am not grouchy,” Laura growls, which makes Lydia dissolve into laughter. Laura can’t help but smile at that, a little. Lydia looks bright and sweet when she laughs.

“What makes you think I don’t get enough sleep?” Laura asks, once Lydia’s giggles have quieted.

Lydia smiles. “Honey, I have never seen someone with circles that dark. You need to stick some cucumbers on your eyes.”

“Thanks,” Laura says sarcastically. “I appreciate the advice.”

“Don’t worry,” Lydia says, getting to her feet. “They give you a sexy, dangerous workaholic kind of look. Like an FBI agent. Or a vigilante superheroine, bent on revenge.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Laura says.

“It was meant as one,” Lydia replies with a smirk.

Laura’s still mulling over that comment when Lydia asks, “Are you going to the football game with us? Kickoff’s in fifteen minutes.”

“I’m not really an organized sports person.” Laura hesitates, then asks, “Will you be in the library next week?”

“Midterms,” Lydia says with a sigh. “I’ll be lucky if I have a chance to leave long enough to eat. I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah,” Laura says. “I’ll see you.”

~*~

She can’t go to the library, Laura realizes Monday evening, feeling a wave of panic rise up over her. It’s not like they made a date . In fact, their conversation was so vague that Lydia was probably brushing her off, and Laura just hadn’t realized it because she was drunk. If she shows up at the library now, Lydia will think she’s some kind of creepy stalker. God, she’s probably straight. Laura groans.

The problem is, she has a paper due in two days, and she really needs to go to the library, Lydia or no Lydia. Her insomnia-slash-anxiety has permeated the dorm room and it makes it impossible to write in here, like her inability to sleep has overflowed into an inability to do anything else she ought to be doing.

Laura tries going to McElwin Hall–it’s the closest building to her dorm, and one of the only ones that freshmen have access to after 11:00pm–but half the classrooms have study groups in them, and the other half are filled with burnt out upperclassmen using the projectors to watch movies. Growling, she tries Johns Hall, but it’s just as packed. Feeling a little desperate, Laura trudges over to Derek’s dorm room.

Stiles answers when she knocks. Laura makes a face. “Is Derek here?” she asks.

“No,” Stiles says. “I think him and Scott went somewhere to study.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s very productive,” Laura says sarcastically. “There’s a lot of studying going on, I’m sure.”

Stiles snorts. “Hey, I’m just glad they’re not ‘studying ’ in the room,” he says, emphasizing his point with air quotes . “I have papers due, and even when they’re not making out–which, ugh –they’re exuding enough puppy love to make me nauseous.”

Laura sighs. “That’s Derek,” she says. “He doesn’t do things in halves.”

Stiles grins. “Scott either. I mean, I love the guy. We’ve been best friends since the womb. But man. I still remember his first big crush, back in sophomore year of high school. There was poetry. And pining, lots of pining.”

“Well, it sounds like they’re a match made in heaven,” Laura says.

“It sure seems like it,” Stiles says. “Honestly, I’m happy for Scott. Even if they’re going to give me cavities from proximity alone.”

“Me too,” Laura says. “Derek–” she hesitates, not sure what she should say. “Derek has a problem with falling for people who hurt him. I’m glad he’s dating someone who’s nice, for a change.”

“And you’ll kill anyone who hurts your baby brother, blah blah blah,” Stiles says, breaking her moment of introspection. “Save it for Scott. Do you want to come in? I desperately need a break from this paper.”

“I desperately need to start this paper,” Laura says.

“It’s still early,” Stiles assures her. “It’s barely even ten.”

“Great,” Laura mutters, but she follows Stiles into the dorm room.

She’s never been alone with Stiles before, and she isn’t exactly looking forward to it now. If Derek was out with Scott, the likelihood that he’ll be back any time soon seems slim. Still, it isn’t like she has anywhere else to go. Laura climbs on top of Derek’s bed and takes her laptop out of her bookbag, hoping that Stiles will take a hint.

He doesn’t. He rambles on about his classes and his paper–a history of circumcision, though Laura isn’t really sure what that has to do with economics–while Laura stares at a blank word document. Still, after ten or fifteen minutes of moaning about midterms, Stiles finally returns to his paper, leaving Laura in glorious silence.

She types her name and the date at the top of the page, then hits the enter key a couple of times. She changes the font from Calibri to Times New Roman, then to Papyrus and back again. Her phone buzzes–it’s just junk email–and she spends a couple of minutes scrolling through her Instagram feed. A couple of girls she knew in high school have posted pictures of a bonfire party. Cora posted a picture of a waterfall system in Argentina. Laura’s breath hitches. She tosses her phone aside and grabs her government textbook and begins to skim through the most recent chapters.

An hour and a half later, she’s actually managed to write a couple of paragraphs and she rewards herself by lying back on Derek’s bed. It takes her a minute to realize she’s being stared at. Laura flops over onto her side to look back at Stiles. “Can I help you?” she asks.

“Oh, no,” Stiles says. “I’m just impressed, is all. It’s not often that I find someone who’s just as adept at procrastinating as I am.”

Laura snorts. “Half the people on this campus are procrastinating at this very moment,” she replies.

Stiles grins. “I doubt they’re doing it as aggressively as you are,” he says.

“I’ve heard you typing over there,” Laura argues. “It doesn’t sound like you’re procrastinating.”

“It’s the ADHD,” Stiles replies breezily. “It occasionally grants me the gift of hyperfocus. Of course, my paper is only marginally related to the prompt, but whatever, it’s interesting.” He waves his hand. “My point stands–you look like you’d rather eat glass than work on that paper.”

“It’s my American Government class,” Laura grumbles. “I hate it. All I want to do is–I don’t know. Plant flowers. Design gardens. Whatever. What do I need American Government for? And it doesn’t help that I’m here , instead of, you know, in the library.”

“Ah, so you’re one of those ‘I can only focus in the library’ types,” Stiles says. “Which raises the question–why are you here waiting for Derek?”

Laura sighs and rolls back over, so she’s not looking at Stiles. She picks up her textbook again, flips through it mindlessly. She tries to sneak a look back at Stiles. He’s still looking at her.

“I can see what you mean about hyperfocus,” Laura grumbles.

“Smells like avoidance,” Stiles replies.

Laura growls at him, like she used to do to Derek when he was being particularly annoying. “It’s not avoidance!”

“Spill or leave,” Stiles says.

“It’s just–” Laura throws her hands up in the air. “There’s this super hot girl at the library, and I don’t know if she’s interested, or if she’s even into girls, and I have no fucking idea what to do.”

“Oh. Well.” Stiles blinks. “That was not what I was expecting.”

Laura glares at him. “What were you expecting?” she asks acidly.

Stiles puts his hands up. “Woah there, I was just implying that you’re a huge hermit. I was completely aware that you like girls. I mean, you’re basically Lesbian Barbie.” He gestures in her general proximity, as if that’s supposed to be some kind of explanation.

Laura looks down at her plaid shirt. “Boys,” Laura says, and sniffs. “So do you have any useful advice, or what?”

“Oh, no,” Stiles says quickly. “I just wanted to know what was going on. I don’t do romantic advice. I mean, look at me. Ordering my coffee from the same barista every morning senior year of high school is, like, the full extent of my relationship experience. But, I guess–” he shrugs, “talk to her, maybe?”

Laura throws a pillow at his head. “Thanks, Captain Obvious. And what exactly am I supposed to do after that?”

“Netflix and chill,” Stiles replies sagely.

Laura groans.

~*~

At nine p.m. the next night, Laura heads to the library. Her essay is nearly halfway done, but she has to finish it before the next morning, and she can’t exactly spend another night camped out in Derek’s dorm. For one, Derek is in bed with a cold and Scott is there feeding him chicken noodle soup. And though Laura has to admit, grudgingly, that Stiles isn’t so bad, she still knows a lot more about circumcision than she ever wanted to.

So Laura, armed with two pumpkin spice lattes, climbs the steps into the library. She doesn’t necessarily have to talk to Lydia, she reassures herself. She could just find somewhere to write her essay. Wait, and see if Lydia comes to her.

And do what, exactly, with the two cups of coffee she’s holding?

Laura blows a lock of hair out of her face. Calm down, stupid. You can do this. Clenching her teeth so hard her jaw creaks in protest, Laura marches up two flights of stairs and to the reference desk–

–and stares blankly at the dark-haired guy sitting at the desk. His fingers hover above the keyboard of the computer, obviously working on his own classwork. There’s a sign, printed on neon pink paper, taped onto the front of the desk that reads, “NO FOOD OR DRINKS IN THE LIBRARY.”

“Can I help you?” the guy asks, clearly annoyed.

“I, uh–” Laura hesitates, not sure she wants to bring up Lydia’s name. Reference desk guy is eying the Starbucks cups.

“Looking for me?”

Laura turns around. Lydia is standing behind her, smiling, her bookbag over her shoulder. She’s wearing black leggings and a baggy sweatshirt. A few strands of hair have escaped the clip securing them to the top of her head.

“Hey, Lydia,” Laura says. “Are you, um, working?”

“No, I’m off tonight,” Lydia says.

Laura shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “Oh, well. I won’t bother you then. I’m sure you want to get out of here.”

“I just got here,” Lydia says, gesturing to her bookbag. “Midterms and all.”

“Oh. Cool,” Laura replies. “Did you–uh–I brought you this.” She holds out one of the pumpkin spice lattes.

Lydia takes the cup and beams at Laura. “Excellent. Coffee. Just what I need at nine o’clock the night before my vector calculus exam,” she says. “Did you want to find a table?”

~*~

It’s nearly three a.m., but the library is just as packed as it was when Laura first got there. She and Lydia had given up on finding an empty table, but by some small miracle had managed to find two empty armchairs. Admittedly, the armchairs hadn’t exactly been next to one another–Laura had been on the receiving end of several nasty looks as she dragged one into an elevator and across the library floor. She had hesitated, but ultimately decided to situate the chair so that it was right next to the one Lydia had taken up residence in, the arms of the chairs pressed together.

Wearily, Laura types up a couple of sentences for the conclusion of her paper. Her back hurts from sitting ramrod straight in the chair. Meanwhile, Lydia is sprawled out over hers, and has been since about half an hour into their study session. Her legs are draped over one arm of the chair and her head is leaned back against the other. Her hair has half-fallen out of the clip anchoring it to the top of her head, and every few minutes, Laura gets a whiff of her floral shampoo.

She should move, should pack up her things and go back to her dorm room and try to catch a couple hours of sleep before class starts. She’s still got the midterm for her design class later this week, and she’d promised to meet up with Derek and Scott tomorrow–tonight–whenever–for dinner.

Laura doesn’t realize she’s been staring at Lydia’s notes, at her precise and elegant handwriting, until Lydia asks, “You done?”

“More or less,” Laura replies hoarsely. “How are you doing?”

“I’m feeling pretty good about it,” Lydia says. She stretches, pointing her toes and reaching her arms out over her head, so that they drape across Laura’s lap.

“Are you going to go back to your dorm room and catch some sleep?” Laura asks.

Lydia raises an eyebrow. “Are you?”

Laura huffs. “Why do you always bring up my sleep schedule?” she complains.

“I’m not sure you can call it a sleep schedule if you never actually sleep,” Lydia says.

“I sleep,” Laura replies.

“I totally believe you,” Lydia says. “You know, slow-wave sleep is very important for your semantic memory.”

“The fact that you know that just tells me that you get too much slow-wave sleep,” Laura retorts. “Kira was right. You are a know-it-all.”

Lydia laughs. “Maybe she’s right.” She sits up, swinging her legs off the arm of the chair, then leans over the arm of Laura’s chair, so she can look straight at her. “Hey, you want to know something I don’t know?”

“What?” Laura asks.

Lydia flutters her eyelashes. “Your number.”

Laura stares at Lydia. That was a pickup line, she’s sure of it, but it still takes a second for her to decide that Lydia isn’t kidding. Laura’s hair is a mess and her teeth feel fuzzy from drinking the too-sweet coffee and she’s pretty sure she didn’t bother to reapply her deoderant before she decided to camp out in the library for six hours. Meanwhile, in spite of the leggings–or maybe because of them–Lydia looks like some kind of modern goddess of libraries and all-nighters.

Laura has to fight off a sudden wave a panic. There’s a part of her, and it’s not a small part, that wants to say, “Oh no, sorry, I dropped my phone in the toilet this morning, probably won’t have a new one for a couple of weeks,” and then get the fuck out of there.

Lydia’s smile grows dimmer the longer Laura is silent. She thinks about Derek saying I’m worried and Stiles saying Just talk to her , but she also hears Peter saying I’ve got to go to New York and Cora saying I’m leaving for Argentina in a few weeks and, further back, her mother: Laura, you know we’ll always love you, no matter what. We just want you to be happy. She doesn’t know what to do sometimes, with all these people inside her brain–she can barely hear herself think.

“Here, give me your phone,” Laura says. When Lydia passes it to Laura, their fingertips brush against one another, and Laura’s hand twitches at the sudden sensation of electricity between their skin. The hair on Laura’s neck stands on end.

She types in her phone number, and saves it under her name plus a purple flower emoji.

~*~

“So are you dating?” Stiles asks.

It’s Saturday night, a couple of weeks after midterms, and they’ve all made it through with passing grades. Well, mostly–Stiles had a meeting with his economics professor earlier this week, who had told him to redo the assigned and please, for the love of God, Stilinski, stick to the damn topic this time! “It was technically a great paper, though,” Stiles had told her smugly. Laura had snorted.

Now, she, Stiles, and Derek are sprawled out on the floor of their dorm room. They’re only missing Scott, who went home for the weekend to help his old boss out with a fundraiser at the animal shelter. There’s a fifth of Fireball and a half-empty two liter of 7-Up on the floor next to Derek. Laura made a face when he had handed her the first cup, but it isn’t the worst thing she’s seen freshmen drink.

She takes a long sip now. “I don’t know,” she says finally. “I think we’re just–hanging out. We haven’t kissed yet.”

“And–no offense–you’re sure she’s into girls?” Derek asks skeptically.

“I’m like ninety-five–well, like eighty percent sure,” Laura says. “She definitely flirts with me. Definitely . I think we’re just, you know. Taking it slow.”

“Yeah, Derek,” Stiles says amicably. “Not everyone’s a huge man-slut like you.”

Laura gives Stiles a nasty look, but Derek just laughs. It’s the sort of comment that would have made him shut down just a couple of months ago. “Hey, you’re the only one having casual sex here, Stilinski. Where is Malia, by the way?”

“Out terrorizing other freshman boys, I presume,” Stiles replies airly. “I didn’t think you would appreciate her being here, Laura. Her idea of relationship advice revolves exclusively around sex and food. Sometimes at the same time.”

“Gross,” Laura grumbles.

“To each his own,” Stiles replies. “So what are you doing, since you’re not dating?”

“Homework, mostly,” Laura admits. “I hang out in the library with her while she works sometimes. We’re watching Numb3rs on Netflix. Um. I made her dinner once?”

“In the dorm?” Derek asks, surprised.

Laura shrugs. “It was just breakfast for dinner,” she mutters.

Derek nudges her with his foot. “Laura’s famous breakfast for dinner,” he says softly. “We haven’t had it since–well, it’s been a while. And made with a hotplate and a toaster oven, no less. You must like her.”

“The hall kitchen has a real stove,” Laura says defensively.

“Eggs,” Stiles scoffs. “ Bo -ring. Let’s have a Hale twins pow wow when you introduce whipped cream into your relationship. Does anyone want to play Kings?”

Which is how Stiles ends up passed out a couple of hours later, while Laura and Derek sit shoulder-to-shoulder on Derek’s bed. It’s a little after three, and Laura’s brain feels pleasantly fuzzy, and she’s considering heading home and marathoning Extreme Homes until she can finally fall asleep when Derek says, “Laura?”

“Yeah, Der-Bear?” she says.

He elbows her gently over the use of the childhood nickname. “How are you sleeping?” he asks. “Has it gotten any better? Recently?”

“Wow, two heart-to-hearts in less than a month,” Laura says sarcastically. “Look who thinks he’s in a place to be giving advice on being a functioning, emotionally stable adult.”

“I’ll take that as a no,” Derek replies.

Laura shrugs.

“Well, I’m happy you’re at least–making friends. Dating. Getting out of your dorm room. Whatever,” Derek says. “Although–are you going to tell Lydia?”

“Why would I?” Laura asks, appalled. “You didn’t tell Scott!”

“Actually, I did,” Derek says. He puts his hand over Laura’s. “That’s what people in relationships do, Laura. They share things with each other.”

“Well, you would know,” Laura grumbles. She feels a little bad for saying it–he and Paige had barely started dating when she had died. And Kate Argent–well, they both saw how that had ended. But still, can’t he see that she doesn’t want to talk about it? Even the thought of Derek talking to Scott about what had happened makes her nauseous.

Did he tell Scott I should have known? she thinks, feeling lost and scared and desperate. Did he tell Scott I could have stopped it?

~*~

Laura needs time to think so she just–she stops. Stops going to the library, stops hanging out with her brother and his friends, stops texting Lydia back. It’s not like they’re dating, Laura reasons. And it’s just for a couple of days, so it’s not really ghosting. Just long enough for Laura to figure out how to tell Lydia that she’s just not really cut out for–relationships. Friendships. Whatever.

Laura knows by now that Lydia is smart and resourceful and not a little bit stubborn, especially when she wants something. Somehow, though, she didn’t think to take that into account when formulating her plan.

Which is why Laura is so surprised to find Lydia outside of her door.

“Hey. What’s up?” Lydia asks. She’s sitting cross-legged in the hallway, a textbook open in her lap. Though her words are friendly enough, Laura sees a mixture of worry and anger in Lydia’s eyes that makes her pulse speed up.

“Um. Not…much?” Laura replies. She holds up the paper bag of food that she had left campus to get. “Do you want…doughnut holes?”

Lydia huffs. “You better believe that you are going to tell me what is going on with you,” she says threateningly. She gets to her feet, grabs the paper bag out of Laura’s hand, then stands, arms crossed, next to Laura’s door. It’s obvious that she’s waiting for Laura to unlock the door.

Laura does so, muttering, “By all means, come in.”

“I will, thanks,” Lydia replies, her voice heated. She follows Laura into the room, shutting the door behind her with slightly more force than necessary. She drops the bag of doughnut holes on Laura’s dresser and then hoists herself up onto Laura’s bed. She looks at Laura expectantly.

“Um. Well. How was your weekend?” Laura asks.

“Fine,” Lydia replies. There’s a long pause.

“How’s vector calculus?” Laura tries again.

Lydia rolls her eyes. “Come on, Laura.”

“What?” Laura asks, her voice defensive.

“You know what!” Lydia snaps. “We’ve been talking or hanging out basically every day, and suddenly you decide you can just–not answer my texts! Ignore my calls! I haven’t heard from you in three damn days! You could have been–I don’t know! Dead in a ditch somewhere!”

“Overreact much?” Laura snaps back. Then she closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. This is exactly what she didn’t want. “Look, Lyds, I just needed some time.”

“You should have told me,” Lydia says darkly.

Laura sighs. “Probably,” she admits. “But, look–this is what I mean, see? I’m shit at this–sort of thing.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lydia demands.

“It means–” Laura throws her hands up, exasperated. “I don’t know! I don’t know what you want me to say!”

“I want you to tell me the truth,” Lydia replied. “Laura, look,” her voices cracks, “We’re friends, right?”

Laura hesitates. She’s losing control of the conversation, she knows she is, but– “Yeah,” she says softly. “We’re friends.”

“And–you like me?” Lydia says, sounding unsure. “I mean–you’re, well, you’re funny and fierce and I never know what you’re thinking. And–God, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met. But if you don’t–don’t feel the same way–”

Laura looks at her, and there’s something in Lydia’s eyes that overwhelms her. Lydia is scared , Laura realizes, and the realization is like an out-of-body experience. She’s afraid, because she’s opened up to other women before and been rejected, and what the fuck is Laura supposed to do now?

“Jesus, Lydia,” Laura says, her voice raw. She runs a hand through her hair. “It’s not that. It’s not like that. Of course I like you, you’re…perfect. All I can think about sometimes is the way you smile, or the way you smell… God.”

“Then why?” Lydia asks, her voice still vulnerable.

Laura sighs. She crosses the room and crawls up onto the bed, so she can sit next to Lydia without looking at her. “Look, there’s–there’s something I haven’t told you. Something…important, I guess.”

They’re quiet for a moment. Lydia finally asks, “Is it–does it have something to do with how you never sleep?”

Laura smiles, though it’s a little watery. “You’re obsessed with me sleeping. You know that, right?”

Lydia laughs. It’s soft and breathy.

“But–yeah, I guess it does,” Laura says.

“I knew it was something,” Lydia says softly. “I mean, you never talk about your family, other than Derek. And you’re so–hyper aware, all the time. I figured–something. I was going to take everything really slow, you know, so I wouldn’t freak you out.” She snorts. “And then you dropped off the face of the fucking planet, and I guess I freaked out a little. But–you don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” Laura says. It’s not entirely true, but Derek had said she should, right? And it’s not like this is a fucking therapy session, for God’s sake. Just like a bandaid, she thinks.

“Some homicidal blonde pyro burnt our house to the ground and killed half my family.”

Saying it–she feels like she’s someone else, or somewhere else, or maybe like she’s still Laura Hale, still in her dorm room, but in some alternate dimension where this conversation never happens. Her voice sounds far away and foreign.

“God,” Lydia says. Laura hears a soft thump! as Lydia leans-slash-falls back against the cinderblock wall, forcing the air out of her lungs in a short, harsh sigh. “God,” she repeats.

“Yeah,” Laura agrees.

“Was she,” Lydia hesitates, “–someone you knew?”

Laura understands what Lydia isn’t saying. “You mean, was she my girlfriend?” Laura laughs a little hysterically. “God, no. I didn’t know her from Eve before they arrested her.”

And that was the root of the problem, wasn’t it? Derek was seeing a woman ten years his senior with the temperament of a rabid snake, and Laura–his sister, his twin– didn’t know .

“Do you want me to go?” Lydia asks softly, her voice strained.

“God, no,” Laura replies.

Moving slowly, like she’s afraid Laura might run, Lydia turns her upper body slightly so she’s facing Laura and reaches out to cradle Laura’s face in one hand. Her skin is as cool as dew and silky soft. Laura can feel the jump of the pulse in Lydia’s wrist where it lays against Laura’s cheek. Laura shudders slightly. Lydia’s eyelashes flutter as she closes her eyes.

Carefully, Laura leans in and presses her lips to Lydia’s temple, then to her mouth. Lydia’s lips part slightly as she sighs. Her breath is wet and somehow sweet. Laura kisses her once again, brushing her lips against Lydia’s perfectly full bottom lip, and draws back.

They rearrange themselves in the bed. They’re both still fully clothed–Lydia in a wispy dress that rides up her perfect thighs and stockings that now have a run in one knee, Laura in skinny jeans and a collared shirt–but they make it work. Laura’s spooning Lydia, sort of, with her face buried in the redhead’s hair, and they’ve got a laptop balanced on Lydia’s hip so they can watch Netflix. It’s not very late yet, not by her standards, but Laura feels tired, so fucking tired–

She falls asleep.

—

The sunlight creeping in through her broken blinds turns the inside of her eyelids red. Laura jerks awake.

It takes her a couple of seconds to realize that she’s in her own dorm, her own bed. It’s been nearly three months since she moved in, but this morning, the cinderblock walls seem suddenly unfamiliar. It only takes half a second longer to place Lydia, who’s propped up on one elbow, watching her.

“So, you do sleep,” Lydia says.

“Sometimes,” Laura croaks. She doesn’t mention that she doesn’t remember the last time she slept at night . “What time is it?”

“Almost eight,” Lydia replies. “So that’s, what? Seven and a half hours?”

“Something like that,” Laura replies, though it had been impossible for her to pay attention to the clock last night, with Lydia’s body pressed against her.

“So, kissing,” Lydia says casually, leaning in closer to Laura. “Is that something we do now?”

“I have morning breath,” Laura protests weakly.

“So do I,” Lydia says reasonably. She rests her open hand against Laura’s waist, sending tingles up Laura’s spine, and kisses her, warm and slow.

~*~

Days pass, then weeks. Laura does not often sleep through the night, but it does happen occasionally. More nights than not, she’s left awake while Lydia sleeps curled up next to her. It’s probably a good thing, Laura reasons, running her fingers through Lydia’s hair, skimming her fingertips over the expanse of perfect, exposed skin on Lydia’s hip. The twin-sized dorm room bed is not meant for two people to lay side by side, as Lydia and Laura do almost every night. Lying awake means that Laura, at least, is aware enough to keep one of them from rolling off the side.

Laura and Lydia’s relationship is not so different than it was before. Laura brings coffee to Lydia in the library on nights that she works. They eat dinner in the dining hall together. Sometimes, Derek, Scott, and/or Stiles join them. More often, they sit with Kira, Allison, and Jackson–Lydia’s friends from high school–or the people she’s met in the math department and the library. Against all odds, Laura decides she likes them. They go to a party at Jackson’s fraternity house, where Laura gets regrettably drunk on peach schnapps, much to Lydia’s amusement.

Whenever Derek is around, he watches them with a pleased sort of smile. Laura resents him for it, a little, can’t understand why he acts like it’s all so normal . Like a semester at college and both of them getting laid is all it’s going to take for things to be like they were before the fire. (And, well. It’s not like Laura and Lydia are having sex. Yet.)

Rationally, Laura knows she shouldn’t be holding this against Derek. He deserves to be happy, to date someone nice and uncomplicated for once. And he isn’t the only one pretending that everything is normal. She is too, because it’s easier than the alternative.

Laura smells smoke wherever she goes.

~*~

It’s Sunday night, and there are only two days between the student population at BHU and Thanksgiving break. Though Laura usually takes comfort in being surrounded by crazy college students, their barely contained excitement has had her on edge the entire weekend. She knows there’s no way she’ll sleep tonight, not when she’s dreading five straight days of an empty campus.

The dining hall is closing Tuesday night for the duration of the holiday, and Laura had been torn trying to decide if attempting to cook Thanksgiving dinner in a dorm kitchen would make her and Derek feel more or less pathetic–until Derek had pulled her aside at lunch today to tell her he was going to visit Scott’s family for Thanksgiving, and did she want to come too?

Laura had demurred. She had her term paper to write for American Government, a project due for her design class. Anything was better than spending five days in a strange house, playing third wheel to Derek and Scott.

Lydia seems to pick up on Laura’s strange mood. It’s getting late, and normally around this time, Lydia would curl up next to Laura, her head pressed against Laura’s chest, and Laura would turn on House Hunters reruns to watch until she finally falls asleep.

Instead, Lydia says, “Do you want to go out?”

“You have class in the morning,” Laura protests.

“No one teaches anything useful two days before break,” Lydia replies. She holds out a hand; Laura drops the keys to the Camaro into her palm.

They go.

~*~

They drive with the windows all rolled down, even though it’s really too cold to do so. Laura, at least, remembered to bring a jacket; Lydia is just wearing the blouse and jeans she’d been wearing all day. Still, the cold doesn’t seem to bother her. Her cheeks are red, her eyes bright. Lydia drives even faster than Laura across the country roads, and the wind tangles cold fingers in her red hair.

Laura isn’t sure where they’re going, or if they’re going anywhere–she’s spent innumerable nights in this car, driving simply because it’s as close to flying as she can get–but she’s still surprised when Lydia turns off onto a long gravel driveway that ends in front of an unlit cabin.

“Where are we?” Laura asks.

“My family’s lake house,” Lydia says. “I come here sometimes, to get away and think.”

Laura looks at the house skeptically. Geographically, of course, it seems pretty away –their nearest neighbor must be at least a half mile off, and thick woods cover the ground around it. “So, which is it?” she asks. “Do you come here to get away or to think?”

“Both,” Lydia replies.

Laura sighs. “I think those two things are mutually exclusive.”

“Only if you’re trying to get away from your thoughts,” Lydia says softly.

“What else is there to get away from?” Laura asks. “Oh, I forgot–dining hall food. I bet you have a fancy kitchen in there.”

Lydia smiles wryly and reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind Laura’s ear. Laura doubts the windblown look suits her as well as it does Lydia. “Come on,” she says. “No one’s here this weekend. Let’s go rustle up some supplies.”

The “supplies” turn out to be a couple of thick blankets, two bottles of white wine, and a half sleeve of Triscuit crackers. Lydia and Laura take their spoils outside to the dock. Lydia, wrapped up in a fuzzy green blanket, removes the cork from one of the wine bottles and takes a sip straight from the bottle. She passes it to Laura.

It’s a clear night. The lake slaps against the dock sleepily and there are more stars in the sky than Laura has ever seen before. She is suddenly, acutely aware of their aloneness. It feels like a living thing in between them. There is no one around for miles. Laura takes a sip of the wine. Lydia watches her.

Laura sets the bottle down. Lydia leans in and kisses her.

They’ve kissed a lot in the past couple of weeks, but they’ve never been alone together, not like this. The dorm walls aren’t exactly soundproof, and it always smells like someone has just burnt popcorn down the hall. It’s not exactly conducive to romance, though Laura and Lydia have made do. Here, on the other hand–the air here smells wet and earthy and the night is only broken by the occasional owl and the sounds of the lake.

Laura tangles her fingers into Lydia’s hair. It feels like silk against her skin. They trade kisses, soft and lingering. Lydia tilts her head backwards, exposing her long, pale neck. Laura rests her cheek against Lydia’s throat and listens to her pulse.

“You’re beautiful. So fucking beautiful,” Laura whispers.

Lydia kisses Laura’s forehead. “Don’t stop, Laura.” Her voice is ragged and hoarse. She slips her hands under Laura’s shirt, her fingernails digging into Laura’s back. “I need you.”

“God,” Laura whispers. She kisses Lydia’s jaw eagerly. Lydia leans back, drawing Laura along with her until they’re laying horizontal on the dock. Laura drags the collar of Lydia’s blouse down far enough to expose the redhead’s collarbone. When Laura begins kissing and sucking on the soft skin there, Lydia gasps. Hesitantly, Laura cups Lydia’s breast with her free hand, running her thumb gently over Lydia’s nipple. The blouse Lydia is wearing is thin, and her bra is unlined–Laura can feel Lydia’s nipple harden at her touch.

Lydia moans. “God, yes. Please, Laura.”

“Do you really want to do this here?” Laura whispers. She’s already breathing heavily.

“Yes,” Lydia hisses, arching her back.

Laura instinctively squeezes Lydia’s breast, eliciting another moan from her partner. She’s sort of straddling one of Lydia’s thighs, and she grinds against it, desperate for contact, for pressure against her clit.

Still, she’s present enough to ask, “Are you sure you’re not– oh– cold?”

Lydia cups Laura’s face her in hands, pulls her down until their mouths crash together. When she releases Laura, Lydia says, “I don’t think I’ll ever be cold again.”

Logically, Laura is pretty sure they’re both going to be cold as fuck when this is all over, but she sure as hell isn’t going to worry about that now. She drags Lydia’s blouse over her head and tosses it aside, admiring the swell of Lydia’s breasts in the lacy blue bra she’s wearing.

“If I’d known we were going to be getting naked, I’d have worn a prettier bra,” Laura comments, running one finger along the edge of Lydia’s bra.

“I love a woman in a sports bra,” Lydia says breathlessly. “I’d want you if you were in a potato sack. In anything. In…nothing.”

“That last one could be arranged,” Laura whispers. She leans over and kisses Lydia again, nibbling her lower lip, enjoying the way their tongues slide against one another as Lydia fumbles with the buttons on her shirt. It only takes a minute before they’re both completely topless. Lydia breaks away from Laura’s lips and captures one of Laura’s brown nipples with her mouth. Her hand reaches up to massage Laura’s other nipple in between two fingers.

“Jesus, Lydia.” Laura grinds against Lydia’s thigh and moans. She’s holding herself up on one elbow, trying to keep from crushing Lydia underneath her, and her free hand fumbles with the button on Lydia’s jeans. It takes her a minute, but she manages to undo the jeans, and she eagerly slides her fingers between Lydia’s labia.

Lydia’s slick and wet and wonderful , and she squeaks when Laura momentarily brushes against her clit. But Laura can’t concentrate, not with Lydia sucking and licking one nipple and then switching to the other, not with the way she’s grinding against Lydia’s thigh. Laura knows it’s going to be over way too soon if they keep it up like this, and she isn’t ready for it to be over. So she leans back, panting, and asks, “Can I go down on you?”

“As if I’d say no,” Lydia retorts.

It turns out that skinny jeans are a little harder to take off than bras or shirts, especially when they’re both trembling with excitement and arousal, but they manage. Lydia’s panties match her bra, and Laura’s a little sad to see them go, but she loses that train of thought once she had her mouth on Lydia. Lydia’s legs are over Laura’s shoulders, her thighs pressed against Laura’s head, and Laura is so turned on that she aches. She can feel the blood pounding between her legs.

Laura starts out rubbing her thumb lightly and repeatedly over Lydia’s clit, licking aimlessly and a little sloppily around her fingers. Lydia whimpers when Laura repositions her hand so that she can insert first one finger, and then two inside her, then replaces her thumb with her mouth, running her tongue back and forth over Lydia’s clit. When Lydia cries out and rocks her hips to press her pussy against Laura’s face, Laura begins to suck gently at her clitoris.

Lydia’s moans gets louder. Her thighs tighten against Laura’s head, she drags her fingers through Laura’s hair–

Unable to ignore the ache between her legs any longer, Laura thrusts her hand between her legs, rubbing against her palm in an attempt to take the edge off. Her mouth stays focused on Lydia. It’s only a couple of minutes longer before she can feel the muscles in Lydia’s legs start to spasm.

“Oh, God, Laura! Lau–oh, yes, fuck!” Lydia’s back arches. Laura pulls her face back, continuing to lick Lydia’s clit until she becomes still beneath Laura.

Pulling back until she’s resting on her heels, Laura shoves a hand down her sweatpants and fucks herself on her fingers until she comes. It only takes a couple of minutes. Lydia watches her through half-closed eyes, and licks her lips.

When Laura crashes onto the blanket next to Lydia, she sighs. Lydia says, “You are so sexy.”

“So are you,” Laura mumbles sleepily.

“We should go inside,” Lydia says, although she makes no effort to move. “I’m cold.”

“Told you so,” Laura replies.

~*~

Laura doesn’t tell Lydia about Derek’s change of Thanksgiving plans, but she’s half afraid Lydia might invite her to Thanksgiving anyways. She isn’t sure she’s up to acting like a normal, functioning college freshman in front of Lydia’s parents for five days straight. But Lydia doesn’t ask, and Laura spends five days on an empty campus, texting Lydia, liking Derek and Scott’s selfies on Instagram, and taking cat naps in the library.

After the fact, losing her virginity isn’t as big of a deal as Laura had thought it would be. It doesn’t really change things, except that now she and Lydia spend several nights a week in Laura’s bed with their shirts off, and Laura tries not to think about how many other girls Lydia’s been with when the redhead goes down on her. It’s not that she’s jealous, exactly; she just sometimes feels inexperienced and inadequate and stupid . It’s completely irrational–Lydia doesn’t seem to have any complaints about her performance–but she can’t seem to help it.

“Sounds like you have some kind of internalized fear of sex. Or maybe relationships in general,” Stiles says, when she tries to explain this feeling to him. She’s not entirely sure when–or why–they became friends, but it’s hard to deny that that’s what they are now.

“Sounds like you’ve actually been doing your reading for your intro psych class,” Laura retorts.

“Hey, you asked for my opinion,” Stiles says. “And my opinion is that you have a lot of crap you’re suppressing. Your ‘happy in love’ act might have Derek and Scott fooled– temporarily– but not me.”

Laura sighs, because he’s probably not wrong. “Any advice, Dr. Freud?”

Stiles spins his laptop to face her. “Cosmo suggests tantric massage,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. “I’m sure Lydia would be happy to hel–”

Laura throws a textbook at him.

Orgasms do seem to be the internet’s go-to solution for insomnia, Laura discovers after a little research of her own. Lydia certainly sleeps like the dead after she comes. Laura did too, the first two or three times they had sex, but the past week has been as sleepless as those immediately following the fire. She leaves Lydia asleep in her dorm room at night and wanders around the campus. It’s December and cold out, but she doesn’t always remember to grab her jacket. Her breath makes clouds in the dark night air. She’s always back by morning, but Lydia must wake up at some point in the middle of the night, because she asks where Laura was.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Laura says. “I’m just stressing about finals. You know how it is.”

Lydia eyes Laura dubiously, but she doesn’t press her for further information. Laura is relieved–until Derek brings it up at lunch one day.

“Lydia told you ?” Laura asks disgustedly.

“She’s worried,” Derek says. “Laura, I wish you would talk to someone.”

Laura throws her hands up in the air. “I already told her about the fire! What else do you want?”

Derek sighs. “Telling her about it is a good first step–but it’s not the same thing as talking about it. And if you don’t feel like you can talk about it with us…Laura, maybe you should consider talking to, you know, a professional.”

“You want me to see a shrink,” Laura says flatly.

“The university has free mental health services,” Derek suggests.

“No chance in hell.” Laura crosses her arms. “Besides, you’re one to talk! You didn’t talk to me for months after the fire, Derek! Months! I needed you, and you were just–just–checked out!”

“And I’m sorry about that,” Derek says levelly. “I was grieving, and I didn’t know what to do. I wish I could have been there for you, but–” Derek sighs. “I honestly wasn’t sure if you wanted me to be.”

Laura turns her back on Derek, so she doesn’t have to look directly at him, nut instead peers over her shoulder at his feet. “What about before the fire?” she whispers. “You–you never told me. About Kate.”

Derek looks at the ground. “I know. I just–she had me convinced that if I told anyone, I would, you know, lose her. That we wouldn’t be able to be together.” His voice is almost inaudible when he says, “I understand, if you blame me for the fire.”

“Blame you?” Laura whispers. “Der, you were just a kid. I don’t blame you. I just don’t understand–” Her voice cracks. She swallows hard. “How can you tell me to, to talk about it, like that will make everything okay? How can you act like everything’s okay?”

“It’s not okay,” Derek says softly. “It will never be okay. But, Laura, talking helps. You’re bottling everything up. You barely cried at the funeral, you never talk about Mom or anyone else.”

“I just want to be strong for you and Cora,” Laura says. “I–I wasn’t there for you, before the fire. I should have known, but I–”

“No.” Derek reaches out and pulls her into a hug. “Laura, you can’t think like that. It wasn’t your fault. And–I don’t know what we would have done without you, those first few months after. But you can’t do that forever. You can’t–you shouldn’t feel like you have to make up for something that was never your fault.”

Laura pulls away from him and shrugs. “I guess.”

“Laura,” Derek looks at her. “Promise me you’ll consider talking about this. To me or Lydia or a counselor or, I don’t know, somebody . Promise.”

“I promise,” Laura mumbles, before escaping the room.

~*~

Laura doesn’t go to dinner that night. She doesn’t go back to her dorm. She takes her laptop and sets up camp in a laundry room in the basement of the dormitory. There’s a pretty steady stream of traffic in the evening, but it begins to slow down after ten. Laura gets a diet Pepsi and a pack of crackers from a vending machine to eat for dinner.

It’s a little past midnight when Lydia finds her.

“You aren’t answering my texts,” Lydia says, sounding hurt. “I thought we were over the whole thing where you avoid me.”

“Yes. Instead, you just talk about me to my brother behind my back,” Laura says. She’s sitting on top of a dryer, leaning against a set of stack washers next to her. It’s impossible to keep herself from looking at Lydia–she’s like a magnet, or a black hole, Laura thinks bitterly–but she does her best to limit her looks to brief glances.

Lydia scowls when Laura refuses to meet her eyes. Anger makes her pale skin flushed and splotchy. “Is that really what this is about? I’m worried about you, Laura, and you sure as hell aren’t talking to me!”

“Why is everyone always on me to talk about things?” Laura snaps. She slams her open palm against the dryer. “Jesus Christ! Sorry I don’t just break down and spill my guts to you every time I have a bad day!”

“If it was just a bad day, I wouldn’t be worried!” Lydia says. She takes a couple of steps towards Laura, but stops in the middle of the laundry room. “Laura, you’ve barely slept at all in the last week. You can barely concentrate on your schoolwork. You’re distant, and, no offense, you’re moody as fuck!”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Laura says.

Lydia throws her arms up in the air. “It’s not about wanting you to say anything.”

“Then I don’t understand what this is about!”

“Of course you do!” Lydia stops and takes a deep breath. Exhales. Starts to pace before forcing herself to stop and lean against a wall. “Look, Laura, I didn’t mean to start this. I don’t want to fight with you.” She doesn’t look at Laura as she says it.

Laura gets off of the dryer she’s been perched on top of and crosses the room to stand in front of Lydia. Moving slowly, carefully, she reaches up and cups Lydia’s face in her hands. “Lydia, this is–it’s all new to me. And I like spending time with you. You’re amazing.”

“But?” Lydia whispers.

Laura pulls her hands away, looks away. “But maybe you should think about if this is what you really want or if–if this, having me, fixing me, is just another challenge to you.”

Lydia’s breath hisses through her clenched teeth. “That’s not fair.”

“Maybe not,” Laura admits. “But that’s how I feel.”

“Laura,” Lydia says, “I love you. I know that this is–it’s crazy, and it’s fast, and believe it or not, it’s new for me too. I’ve never felt like this about anyone else. This isn’t about the challenge, or the chase, or whatever you think this is for me. I love you. And I want you to be happy. And–I need you to trust me, if this is going to work. Trust that I care about you, and that I want you to be happy…and trust me enough to talk to me, instead of running away.”

“I want to but–I don’t know if I can,” Laura says softly.

“Well then,” Lydia says, “it looks like we both have things to think about.” She leans forward, pressing a chaste kiss to Laura’s cheek, and leaves Laura standing in the laundry room, staring blankly at the wall.

~*~

Laura had thought that Lydia would avoid her after the fight, or the confrontation, or whatever it was, but she doesn’t. They eat meals together in the dining hall. They hold hands when they walk across campus. They drag chairs together in the library, and takes turns bringing coffee from the campus Starbucks. With Lydia’s help, Laura drags herself through finals, hyped up on espresso. Lydia does not spend nights in Laura’s dorm room. They don’t have sex. Laura doesn’t sleep.

At midnight or one or two a.m., when they pack up their things and abandon the library, Laura heads to the Camaro and drives. There’s a little 24 hour diner downtown that serves watery coffee and some of the best damn doughnuts she’s ever had. One night, she goes back up to Lydia’s lakehouse, driving slowly past the house but not stopping; out here, the night is too dark and too quiet for Laura to face it alone.

After Thanksgiving, Laura is a little afraid that Derek might leave her to spend Christmas in their empty little apartment alone. The dorms are closing for the four week break. But when she gets the nerve to ask him, he says that Scott only lives an hour away from them, and he can always make a trip up if they want to see each other.

The night before the dorms close, Stiles whines and pleas until they all agree to go to a party at a house half of a mile from campus. He’s already drinking a PBR when Laura gets there. She eyes it with distaste. The taste of cheap beer has not grown on her since homecoming.

“I made it through finals without having to rewrite any boring economics essays,” Stiles tells her defensively. “I deserve this.”

“And I had to spend all week listening to you complain about your boring economics essay,” Derek says dryly. “Which means I deserve at least twice of whatever you drink. I’m going to get a beer. Do you want anything?”

That last question is directed at Laura and Scott. Scott accepts amiably, beaming at Derek, but Laura shakes her head. “I want to find Lydia,” she says. “She ought to be here by now.”

Derek and Scott amble off in the direction of the kitchen in search of the cooler. Laura begins to poke her head into the rooms downstairs. The house is huge and old and there’s a room for everything–formal living, regular living, formal dining, regular dining, a study, a gameroom–and her chest aches when she thinks about their old house, set up much the same way, burnt to ashes. She doesn’t realize that Stiles had followed her until he says, “So, what’s up with you and the ever-gorgeous Lydia?”

“If she ever heard you say that, she would crush you like a bug,” Laura warns.

“I think she would pretend to crush me, but would be secretly flattered. Well, flattered might be a strong word, but I still thinks she likes being admired.” Laura shoots hims a skeptical look over her shoulder. “No? Okay. We’ll call it fifty/fifty on the likelihood of actual crushing.”

“ I’ll crush you if you don’t shut up,” she threatens.

“Laura!” someone calls. Laura looks around and spots Allison across the room, waving cheerfully. With her is Lydia, who smiles when Laura catches her eyes.

“Go watch out for Derek and Scott,” Laura tells Stiles. “We’ll find you later.”

“Fine, fine,” Stiles replies. “I can tell when I’m not wanted.”

Even across the room, Laura can see that Lydia’s face is already flushed a splotchy pink. Though Lydia complains about this particular effect that drinking has on her fair complexion, Laura has always found it to be pretty cute. She fights her way across the crowded room, eventually getting close enough to bump Allison’s shoulder with her own and squeeze Lydia’s hand in greeting.

“How long have you guys been here?” Laura asks. She has to shout to be heard over the din of the crowd.

“Long enough for Lydia to get her ass kicked at quarters by a group of lacrosse players,” Allison replies, snickering.

“Oh, go screw yourself,” Lydia retorts. “I was at a disadvantage! Lacrosse players have–um–naturally strong hand-eye coordination. Or something.”

“Honey, you’re drunk,” Allison says.

“And it’s not even ten,” Laura says, shaking her head.

Lydia jabs a finger into Laura’s chest. “Like you’re one to talk. I was there for the peach schnapps incident, ma’am. And I’m not drunk. Just–tipsy.”

“And wondering what you’re going to do for four weeks without the library, I’m sure,” Laura says.

Lydia reaches out and pulls Laura into a hug, burying her face in Laura’s hair. “Wondering what I’m going to do for four weeks without you,” she protests.

Laura wraps her arms around Lydia and kisses her temple. “Yes, I’ll miss you too,” she says. “You don’t see me getting drunk over it.”

“That was the lacrosse players,” Lydia replies sleepily.

“Do you mind watching her?” Allison interrupts. She smiles apologetically at Laura. “Kira’s around here somewhere, and we’re supposed to go to another party later with some of her classmates. I think Lydia might need some help getting home on the sooner side of things.”

“I can hear you,” Lydia mumbles, her face cradled against the curve of Laura’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I got her,” Laura says. “I do owe her after the peach schnapps incident.”

After Allison leaves, Laura guides Lydia into a chair, coaxing a glass of water into her. About halfway into the second glass of water, Lydia begins to complain that it’s too hot in the house. “We can go sit out in the backyard,” Laura says, helping Lydia to her feet. “Did you bring a coat?”

“No,” Lydia says. She wraps an arm around Laura’s waist, allowing most of her weight to rest against the taller girl. Laura has to put her own arm around Lydia to hold her up.

“Come on, now,” Laura teases. “I know you’re not that drunk.”

“Maybe I just like having the excuse to snuggle you,” Lydia replies. She tips her head up to look at Laura and smiles.

Laura thinks about the past week, about nights spent alone. “You know you don’t need an excuse,” she says, but her voice is a little hollow. “Or at least, you didn’t use to.”

Lydia sighs and straightens up, taking her weight off Laura. Her arm drops away. “Laura–”

“I don’t think now is the best time to talk about it,” Laura says, cutting her off. “C’mon, let’s get you some fresh air.”

There’s people out in the backyard, but it’s not nearly as packed as the house, and there’s no roof to hold in the heat from their bodies and the smell of sweat and cheap alcohol. Lydia lowers herself onto the peeling steps leading from the deck to the grass, and after a second’s hesitation, Laura sits next to her.

There’s a heated discussion about s’mores taking place in the yard. Within a few minutes, there’s a group of people piling logs and twigs and dry pine straw in the middle of a circle of dirt that’s clearly been used to host bonfires before. The pine straw catches fire first, but it quickly spreads to the twigs. Almost everyone is standing around the fire at this point, holding their hands towards the flames for warmth. A couple of guys continue to pile wood onto the fire. It grows.

Laura watches as a bit of fiery pine straw is picked up by the wind. It blows towards her, narrowly missing her face. Her muscles are locked in place. She can’t move.

The fire is growing taller. The smoke–it’s getting thicker. It doesn’t smell like a campfire, doesn’t smell like childhood memories of camping in their backyard. The smoke is black and acrid and she can smell flesh burning she can see people falling to the ground the fire is growing it’s growing she can’t see the edges and people are screaming, screaming–

“Lydia, if you were straight, I would gladly marry you and have your babies, but right now you need to back up! ”

The voice is so at odds with what is going on that Laura snaps back into something resembling–consciousness, if not reality. It’s like time has bent, and she is seeing two scenes superimposed over one another–Derek on his knees in front of their burning house. Two firefighters slinging to Uncle Peter’s arms, trying to keep him from running back into the house as he screams. Another firefighter, Cora’s body limp in his arms. A chorus of screams as the glass in an upstairs window–Matthew’s bedroom window–explodes and fire roars outwards. That’s one image.

In the other, Stiles’s face is too close to hers, blocking out her view of the bonfire. Lydia hovering anxiously behind him, her eyeliner smeared across one cheek. Laura’s fingernails are digging into her jeans. Her breath is jagged and harsh against her throat which, despite the lack of smoke, still burns like the night of the house fire.

In both, tears stream down her face.

“Go find Derek,” Stiles says, and Lydia is off, skating nervously along the edge of the stairs like she’s afraid to be too close to Laura. “Laura, can you hear me? You’re having a panic attack. You’re okay, you’re safe. Derek’s going to be here in a minute, okay?”

“Der,” Laura gasps.

“Yep, that’s right,” Stiles says. “You need to slow down your breathing, okay? I’m going to count–trying breathing in for five seconds, holding for two, and then breathing out, okay?”

Laura blacks out before Stiles reaches five.

~*~

Laura is flat on her back on Derek’s bed, staring at the ceiling. Sunlight pours through a crack in the blinds, illuminating the room. Soon, Derek’s alarm will go off and they’ll have to drag their suitcases out to the Camaro and head home for the break.

She tries not to think about the night before. Calling it an overreaction is an understatement. And it’s not like this is the first time she’s seen a fire since the night their family died. There’s a fancy electric fireplace in the student center, and there were bonfires on campus homecoming weekend. She can’t stand the thought that she’s getting worse, that she’s falling apart, that she might spend the rest of her life flinching at candles and sirens and the smell of burnt ramen in the dorm kitchens.

She’d came to consciousness in Derek’s arms. She’d insisted that he put her down, but he still kept his arm around her for the entire walk back to the dorm, which was probably a good thing, because she hadn’t totally regained feeling in her feet. It was cold and quiet and the only thing Derek said to her the whole way back was “You need help, Laura.”

Derek and Stiles must have made some kind of agreement, because Derek is sleeping in Stiles’s bed and Stiles is nowhere to be seen–he’d probably crashed on Scott’s floor. Laura rolls over and is busy staring at the cinderblock wall when someone knocks on the door.

Derek tries to sit up on top of Stiles’s lofted bed and barely manages to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling. His hair sticks up in soft tufts. “Can you get that?” he grumbles. “Stiles probably forgot his key or something.”

Laura sighs and crawls out of bed. She’s still in her clothes from yesterday, and they’re wrinkled from being slept in. She takes a second to run her fingers through her hair before she opens the door.

Lydia stares at her from across the threshold. “Hey,” she says.

Laura stares back at her. A second too late, she replies, “Hey.”

“I went by your room, but no one answered,” Lydia says. “I figured you’d be here–or at least that, you know, Derek or Stiles could tell me that you’re okay.”

“Okay,” Laura echoes softly.

“Yeah,” Lydia replies. “I mean, you seem,” she gestures in a way that somehow makes Laura even more self-conscious of her messy hair and day-old clothing, “fine. All things considered.”

“All things considered,” Laura says hollowly.

The repetitiveness of the conversation seems to annoy Lydia a little. Her cheeks flush and the corners of her mouth turn down. “Yeah.”

Laura shakes her head, trying to clear out the fogginess that has surrounded her all morning. “I’m, uh, sorry. For freaking out on you.”

Lydia’s shoulders slump. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” Laura says again.

“It’s not your fault,” Lydia says softly. “I’m glad Stiles showed up. I had just started, like, shaking you, when I realized you weren’t responding–I completely lost it. I didn’t know what to do.”

Laura looks at the ground.

“Anyways,” Lydia says with forced cheerfulness. “I thought we could get together sometime over the break. Hang out, maybe talk about things, if you’re up to it. Not before Christmas–I’ve got Christmas parties and all kinds of family crap, my mom would kill me if I missed any of it. But maybe after New Years–”

“No,” Laura says.

“No?” Lydia asks. She purses her lips.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Laura says. “Look, Lydia, I’m clearly not ready for a relationship, or whatever this is. There’s just–I have a lot going on right now. And I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to get anymore, you know, involved.”

“Involved?” Lydia says. For a second, she looks surprised and worse, hurt, like Laura has slapped her, but her expression quickly dissolves into anger. “Laura, I am trying to be here for you, but you are sure as hell not making it easy for me!”

“Oh, you’re trying to be here for me, are you?” Laura retorts. “What, do you want a medal? ‘Look at me, selflessly attempting to nurse my crazy girlfriend back to help!’”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it!” Lydia snaps.

“Go away, Lydia,” Laura says quietly. “I can’t deal with this right now.”

Lydia opens her mouth, closes it. Blinks twice. “Fine,” she says.

Laura shuts the door quietly.

Derek is still in bed, half-sitting with his weight resting on his elbows. He stares at her, eyebrows furrowed, and she can tell that he’s–he’s annoyed, but worse, he’s worried, and that feels like a knife to her gut. She’s supposed to take care of him, goddamnit.

Because she can’t, she just snarls, “I don’t want to hear it from you, either.”

Derek just looks at her. “Fine,” he says finally. His voice is weary. “Let’s go home.”

~*~

Being back at the apartment is weird, partially because of how–well– restful it is. Laura remembers resenting the quietness of the apartment building just a few short months before, but for the first couple of days at home, she revels in it. Part of the difference, she thinks, is due to the change she sees in Derek. That change is even more stark now that they’re home, now that they’re around each other basically 24/7 again.

Four months at school; four months of dating Scott, who is inhumanly nice; four months of hanging out with Stiles, who can make anyone laugh, even if they’re just laughing at him–the last four months have made Derek into someone not unlike who he was before the fire. He doesn’t smile as easily, and he sometimes fall silent in the middle of conversations–but he talks to Laura about professors he’s had and hated and books he’s read and loved. He hugs her when she makes breakfast for dinner. He watches Christmas movies and makes sarcastic commentary for the first twenty minutes before he becomes completely engrossed, the big sap.

Cora surprises them when she shows up to the apartment two days before Christmas. “Airplane tickets were on sale,” she says. “So I decided that I could probably tolerate you two losers for a couple of days.”

Laura isn’t fooled, and neither is Derek, but they both tactfully refrain from mentioning how Cora’s eyes water up when she hugs them.

They exchange gifts on Christmas morning under a scrawny, half-dead Christmas tree that Derek found at Walmart. Cora makes snide comments, but helps Derek string lights around it. “It was the only one they had left,” Derek says plaintively. “It was on clearance!”

They even take turns facetiming Uncle Peter on Cora’s iPad. Their conversations don’t last long–Peter is celebrating Christmas with his new girlfriend in the Bahamas.

“Gross,” Cora says once they’re all done talking. She wrinkles her nose.

“He deserves to be happy,” Derek says firmly, but Laura privately agrees with Cora. Peter’s girlfriend is far too young for him.

Laura manages to get a good night’s sleep about one night in three, which is not a lot but still much better than she’s been doing since the fire. The rest of her nights alternative between insomnia and nightmares about fire and smoke and Derek and Cora crumbling to ashes in her hands as she desperately tries to put them back

together.

“You seem to be doing a little better,” Derek says, the day after Cora leaves to go back to Argentina.

“A little,” Laura agrees. “Part of it was getting to see you and Cora, I think. But part of it–I don’t know.”

“It’s being away from school, isn’t it?” Derek asks. Laura nods. “I thought so.”

“It was nice to have a distraction for a little while,” Laura says. “But–I guess, having to interact with all those people, all the time. Doing homework. Going to class. I feel like a senior citizen, sometimes. I just–don’t always have the energy. And then, worrying about what I’m not doing makes it so hard to sleep. Which is a pretty big downward spiral.”

“Yeah,” Derek says. “I felt that way for a long time.” He reaches out, clasps Laura’s hands in his own. “Laura? I’m sorry if I’m beating a dead horse but–you should do what makes you happy. Or at least, what makes you okay.”

“Yeah,” Laura says.

That night, sleep does not come. She spends a long time fingering a business card, given to her months ago. “Everyone reacts to trauma differently,” she says quietly. “Everyone heals differently.”

~*~

The next day, she makes an appointment with a therapist the social worker recommends.

The therapist listens to Laura stumble through a brief description of the fire, of sleepless nights and the panic attack at the fire and her breakup with Lydia and the constant feelings of fatigue, and sets up a weekly appointment for her. He also refers her to a psychiatrist. Laura makes an appointment with the psychiatrist, where she has to grit her teeth and go through the whole story again. The psychiatrist talks about PTSD and depression and SSRIs, gives her a prescription and a thorough warning about side effects, and schedules her for another appointment in four weeks.

Two days after that, she makes breakfast for dinner and makes Derek sit at the dining room table instead of the couch. “I’m not going back to school this semester.”

“I know,” Derek says.

Laura looks at her food. “I don’t want you to be disappointed in me or–or feel like I’m abandoning you,” she says.

Derek looks at her, surprised. “Lo, I’m not disappointed in you,” he says softly. “And I don’t feel abandoned. This is what I meant before. You need to do what is best for you. And–I’m happy you’re finally getting help.”

“Me too,” Laura says. She gives Derek a watery smile.

“I don’t–I don’t like the idea of you living here alone,” Derek says. “Maybe I should look at taking a semester at Tech. Or I could take a semester off–”

“No,” Laura says hurriedly. “No, I don’t want that.”

“Well, it’s your choice,” Derek says, although he looks like wants to argue. “I mean–whatever makes you happiest. Right?”

Laura thinks about it. Admittedly, she’s not really looking forward to living by herself, but she desperately wants Derek to return to BHU and to Scott. She’s not sure she could bare the guilt otherwise, even if Derek if offering. She isn’t sure what to do, and she knows that if Derek senses so much as a hint of doubt about living alone, he’ll drop out of BHU after all. So after dinner, she texts Stiles.

Stiles: it sounds like u need a roommate butternut

Laura: ewww

Stiles: no to butternut? i thought it had great potential

Stiles: that je ne sais quoi

Laura: i’m going to ignore u before u ruin our beautiful friendship

Laura: but seriously how do normal people find roommates

Stiles: craigslist

Laura: that is a terrible idea

Laura: pretty sure craigslist is for serial killers & perverts

Stiles: leave it 2 me

Which is how Laura ends up with a posting on Craigslist that reads: “Roommates wanted - 3 bedroom apartment downtown - NO PERVERTS OR SERIAL KILLERS - call # below if interested.” She’s pretty sure Stiles meant it as a joke, but sure enough, by the time Derek is packing up to return to BHU, Laura has two roommates lined up to move in. Erica has blonde hair, hooded eyes, and blood red lipstick. Despite Stiles assuring her that Erica made it through his “specialized, son-of-the-police-chief-approved screening process,” Laura still isn’t entirely sure she’s not a serial killer. Isaac has angelic curls and killer cheekbones and sort of comes off as a dick, but Stiles assures her that he is really a marshmallow on the inside.

“I get the feeling you were screening people on looks alone,” Laura tells Stiles when she talks to him on the phone.

“Your lack of faith wounds me,” he replies.

“I can’t believe you let Stiles pick out random roommates for you over living with your own twin,” Derek shouts in the background.

“Listening to you pine for Scott would disrupt my healing process!” Laura yells back.

“Ow!” Stiles says. “You’re not on speakerphone, Laura! You nearly just blew out my eardrum.”

“Make sure you relay the message,” Laura says airly.

Stiles sighs, sounding much put upon. “I will.”

On the last day of registration, Laura goes to the community college–referred to by most of the locals simply as “Tech”–and registers for a class on the history of landscaping. Afterwards, she drives around and puts in applications at a couple of nurseries and home improvement stores that have gardening centers. It seems like the sort of thing her therapist is always encouraging her to do.

Laura goes to class, does her readings. She becomes friendly with Erica, who is wickedly funny–she can see why Stiles liked her–and discovers that Isaac is, as promised, a complete marshmallow. She hangs out with Derek and Scott and sometimes Stiles when they come home on the weekends to visit her, and sends them snapchats of the cookies Isaac makes and of Erica’s crazy outfits when they don’t.

She goes to the appointments with the therapist and the appointments with the psychiatrist and has the dosage of her medicine carefully adjusted and readjusted. She gets a job with a local nursery, and spends twenty-five hours a week hauling bags of dirt around. Sometimes she sleep and sometimes she doesn’t, but she does her best to adhere to the new schedule.

She doesn’t talk to Lydia, even though she thinks she might want to.

~*~

In late April, Laura goes to visit Derek at BHU.

As much as she likes her job at the nursery and her classmates at Tech, Laura has been feeling, well–kind of restless, lately. She spends an afternoon flipping through the BHU catalog, thinking about all the cool classes in landscaping and design she’ll be able to take if she ever makes it through her intro classes. She talks with her therapist, who agrees. She’s going to re-enroll at BHU for the fall semester.

Of course, there’s paperwork involved. From Laura’s brief experience with academic bureaucracy, she knows that things will go smoother if she can turn in some of it in person, so she can flutter her eyelashes at certain members of the administrative staff and look pathetic and downtrodden for others. And, if she’s being honest with herself, maybe this is a test–a chance to see if she can really go back without falling to pieces. So that Friday, Laura packs herself a dufflebag, loads it into the Camaro, and heads up to BHU.

When she gets to Derek’s dorm room, he grabs her into a bear hug. “I’m so glad you’re going to be back,” he says.

Laura smiles at him. “So am I.”

“Oh my god, I am too stressed to deal with wonder twin cuteness in my own dorm room!” Stiles cries from his desk. “Please go have this reunion elsewhere!” After a second, he adds, “Laura, I will be happy to see you after I turn in this paper at precisely 11:59.”

“Understood,” Laura says solemnly.

“We better go,” Derek says in a mock whisper. “Before he subjects us to the entire history of male circum–”

“Ugh!” Stiles shouts, burying his face in his hands. “Would you guys just let that go already!”

Laura snickers.

She, Derek, and Scott end up wandering around campus. The atmosphere is mixed–there’s just a week and a half until finals, but it’s a Friday and the weather is warm and inviting. Students play frisbee or nap in the shade or spread out their textbooks across a blanket in the grass, highlighting entire passages lazily. Laura hasn’t seen Scott much this semester–he’s only came home with Derek two or three times–and she’s recounting one of Isaac’s many baking disasters to him when she looks up and sees–

Red hair.

Laura freezes. It takes her a couple of seconds to confirm that yes, that is Lydia, standing fifteen feet away on the steps of an academic building, looking at them. Derek and Scott have stopped too, and once Derek realizes what has caught Laura’s attention, he looks at her with furrowed brows.

“Give me a second,” Laura says without looking away from Lydia. “I’ll catch up with you guys.”

Derek hesitates. “Are you sure…?” he says, but he doesn’t seem to know what he’s asking her.

Laura sighs. “I’m sure, Der. I left things…badly, and that’s on me. I should probably apologize.”

Derek looks like he wants to argue that point, but Scott loops his arm around Derek’s and draws him away. Laura hears him say, “It’s not like they can avoid each other forever, if Laura’s coming back–there’s less than six thousand students here, they’re bound to run into each other…” before they’re out of earshot.

Yes, they’re bound to run into one another, and she might as well get this confrontation out of the way now, when she has a couple months at home in front of her, time to lick her wounds. Laura approaches Lydia slowly, half-expecting her to run away–but of course, Lydia was never one to be afraid of confrontation. Her mouth is set and her hazel eyes are unreadable, but she is as beautiful as ever.

When Laura gets within a couple of feet of Lydia, she stops. Lydia glances over her cooly. “Can I help you?” she asks. Her voice is brisk.

It takes Laura a second to get up the nerve to say, “We should talk.”

Lydia sighs. Her shoulders slump. “I have an exam in ten minutes. Let’s get coffee tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Laura says.

Lydia looks away from Laura, towards the clumps of students lazing in the sun. “You have my number,” Lydia says. She turns on her heel and walks into the building. Laura watches her go, knees wobbling, before walking slowly to catch up with Scott and Derek.

~*~

They arrange to meet at the campus Starbucks at 11:30 the next morning. Laura gets there early and buys them both a coffee–a latte for Lydia and a decaf iced coffee for herself. She tries to limit her caffeine consumption most days–too much makes her heart race and her hands shake. She wills herself not to look at the door to the coffee shop.

At exactly eleven, Lydia gracefully swoops into the chair across from Laura and eyes the latte. “For me?” she asks.

Laura smiles wanly. “It’s tradition,” she says.

They stare at each other for what seems like an eternity. Laura’s palms are sweating, and she can feel her heart rate increase when she realizes that she should probably be the one to break the silence. Despite a fairly sleepless night the night before, she hadn’t figured out what she would say today.

Breathe slowly , she reminds herself firmly. And start with the simple things .

“I want to say that I’m sorry,” Laura says, fighting to keep her voice steady. “For…the way I left things. I had a lot going on, but it wasn’t fair for me to lash out at you.

“But,” Laura pauses, trying to get her words into order. “I’m not sorry for some things. I’m not sorry for leaving school. I needed some time to figure things out, and that’s helped a lot. And–I’m not sorry for breaking things off with you, just the way it happened. You were–a distraction, for me. Being with you made it easier to not think about the problems I was having, at least at first. But it didn’t make them go away. And maybe I needed to get away from you to realize that.”

“I’m sorry too,” Lydia says. “I’m sorry for pushing you to talk when you didn’t want to. And I’m sorry I wasn’t more supportive. I’ve thought about that a lot, recently. Once I started to get over the hurt feelings. I should have tried harder to be there for you. Even if it was just as friends.”

Laura hesitates, then rests her hand on top of Lydia’s. “I wouldn’t have let you, not at first,” she says seriously. “I had– have –some problems with trust. It’s something I’m working on.”

“Well,” Lydia says, trying to smile. “I had– have– some problems with perfectionism, and trying to fix things people don’t need or want me to fix. It’s something I’m working on.”

Laura laughs. “We’re just a mess, aren’t we?”

“Apparently,” Lydia says. “Laura, I know it might be too little, too late, but I’d like to be friends now.”

Laura squeezes Lydia’s hand. “I’d like that too. I’m coming back to BHU in the fall–you might have guessed that already, I guess–and it would be nice to have a friend other than Stiles. And Derek, of course.”

“Of course. You can’t rely on Stilinski for life advice, honestly .” Lydia sniffs.

“Alright, then,” Laura says, clicking her coffee cup against Lydia’s. “To friendship.”

~*~

Epilogue: 2.5 Years Later

“Ugh,” Laura says, collapsing on the couch in their living room. “I can’t believe there’s only one hundred and ninety-seven days until graduation.”

Lydia looks over at her coolly from her position at the dining room table, surrounded by workbooks. “Laura,” she says, “You cannot start counting down yet. It’s only October, for god’s sake. Can’t you wait until January or something?”

“I think you would be more excited if you weren’t about to sign yourself up for eight years of schooling,” Laura says sagely.

Lydia snorts. “The only way it’s going to take me eight years to finish my PhD is if I spend two of them in a coma,” she argues.

Allison pokes her head out of one of the bedroom doors. “Eight years is the average time it takes to finish a PhD program, Lydia, god. Try not to rub it in, okay?”

“And stop studying and go out with me,” Laura adds lazily. “It’s a Friday, and we all know you’re gonna knock your GREs out of the park. Let’s go have some fun.”

“Studying is fun,” Lydia grumbles.

“Nuh-uh, you can fool the other library nerds with that kind of talk, but you can’t fool me,” Laura says. “I want to go swimming. Let’s hit up your lake house. Allison, you in?”

Allison shakes her head. “Isaac and I are going out tonight,” she says, her cheeks flushed.

Laura sighs mournfully. “I don’t know why I ever introduced you two,” she says. “Come on, Lyds, what do you say? Swimming? Lakehouse? Movie marathon afterwards?”

Lydia resists a little while longer, complaining about her work and how cold the water is going to be this time of year, but Laura wins out–she nearly always does, when it comes to Lydia. She throws her swimsuit and pajamas and a change of clothes for the morning into a duffle bag and basically dances her way out to Lydia’s car. Lydia follows at a more reasonable gait.

Because Lydia doesn’t take defeat sitting down, they listen to Tchaikovsky the whole way out to the lake. Laura doesn’t complain as much as she usually might, which makes Lydia eye her suspiciously–but hey, what can she say? She’s happy.

Still, Laura doesn’t want to ruin the surprise, so she tries to act extra surly for the second half of the car ride.

She has to talk Lydia out of stopping somewhere for dinner, but they finally make it to the lake house a little after dark. “Come on,” Laura tells Lydia, a little giddy. “Let’s go out to the dock!” She breaks into a half-jog.

“I am too old to have sex outdoors, Laura Anne Hale!” Lydia shouts after her. “So don’t even think about it!”

“Not everything is about sex, Lydia!” Laura calls back gleefully.

She had driven up to the lake house earlier that day to set everything up. There’s a little folding table positioned on the dock, with a checkered tablecloth over it and a vase of red roses in the middle. There’s a bottle of wine and a box of crackers set out, and a travel cooler filled with cheese on one of the chairs. Laura is lighting the little candles when Lydia crests the hill and stops in her tracks. She covers her mouth with her hands.

“Happy six month anniversary!” Laura says, throwing her hands into the air.

“You sneak!” Lydia accuses. “What were you going to do if I didn’t agree to come out here?”

“I knew you would agree,” Laura says smugly. “You always do.”

Lydia wraps her arms around her girlfriend and gives her an enthusiastic kiss on the mouth. Laura tangled her fingers in Lydia’s hair, kissing her girlfriend slowly and deeply. By the time she pulled away, Lydia was panting slightly.

“You know,” Lydia said, attempting to save face, “the whole concept of a six month anni -versary is a contradictory. Anniversary literally means year.”

“Hey,” Laura says softly. “We’ve got to seize the moment, right? You want some cheese?”

“Oh, I think I have something else in mind,” Lydia says, grinning.

“I have some stuff to make dinner inside the cabin if you–” Laura begins. She’s cut off when Lydia shoves her into the lake. “Hey!” she sputters. “Rude! You’re lucky I didn’t have my phone in my pocket!”

Lydia just laughs. “Watch out!” she cries, and jumps into the water.

“You witch,” Laura complains when Lydia resurfaces. Her teeth are already chattering–the water is chilly this time of year. “I brought my swimsuit for a reason.”

“Oh?” Lydia says, raising one eyebrow. “I thought we might try…skinny-dipping.” She begins to unbutton her blouse, which is plastered to her skin.

“I thought you were too old to have sex outdoors,” Laura points out.

“Well, since we’re seizing the moment,” Lydia says, “I guess I can make an exception.” When they kiss, Laura feels the warmth from her head to her toes.

[1989dreamer]

Everything You Had Got Destroyed

AO3

Summary: The funeral of the Hales, through Laura's eyes.

General Kate Argent warning. Also, this story does not place Deaton in a good light. Searching for title, settled on a line from Beyonce's If I Were a Boy. Full tags and warnings available at AO3 link.

                                                                                                                              --

The ceremony is lovely. The mayor makes speeches about the accomplishments made possible by the generosity of the Hales, people applaud, cry, and hug the remaining Hales, and Laura hates it with her whole being.

She keeps a hand on her brother’s back, feels the minute tremors racing through his muscles. She can’t even comfort him because all the townspeople keep coming, empty words falling from their lips while the cool wind of a mild January blows across their faces.

Derek is wrapped in Dad’s jacket, left in the Camaro after another dumb argument about his mid-life crisis. Laura has a coat handed to her by a nurse from Emergency Care. She finds a pack of gum tucked inside a hidden pocket and squeezes it to pulp when the sixth grade class stumbles over Amazing Grace.

The whole thing lasts three hours. Eleven eulogies. Eleven laid to rests. Eleven “Ashes to ashes and dust to dust.” Derek breaks his own hand when the priest won’t shut up.

The sheriff standing next to him looks stricken and unsure while a deputy on the other side adopts a stormy glare directed at Father Donovan’s head.

The wake. They should have had a wake instead of this bullshit circus.

Not a dry eye around them except her brother and herself. But, Laura’s all cried out, doesn’t have the liquid available and Derek…Derek seems broken, small and withered, like he was in the flames too.

The ceremony is lovely and lasts too long and Laura can’t be grateful enough when it ends after she and Derek each toss eleven handfuls into the single plot that will house the bare remains of what used to be eleven people.

The crowd disperses quickly after they, one by one, offer condolences that mean nothing to Laura (Laura only because Derek isn’t listening, hunched down and breathing harshly through his mouth).

Finally, the only ones left are the sheriff and his deputy, the veterinarian Mom liked to take stray animals to, the priest, and Derek and Laura.

Sheriff Calhoun is the first to say anything, and it’s just to jam his hat back on his head, stroke his handlebar mustache and grunt, “Rain’s coming.”

Laura wants to yell at him, scream obscenities because no shit, rain’s coming, she can fucking smell it.

Father Donovan agrees with a simple nod of his head before he claps Derek on the shoulder (and Laura glares at him for startling her brother enough that he jerks and lets out a gasp).

“I wish it was a better time,” he says, absently, and Laura stares at him in horror.

The deputy hustles him away, saying, “Father Jacob, why don’t you go back inside for now?” Then he comes back and leads Derek away, one hand hovering over her brother’s back while they head deeper into the cemetery, no doubt heading for the deputy’s wife’s headstone.

The vet steps up next, offering Laura a hand. “It was a beautiful ceremony,” he offers. Laura thinks his name is Deepo or something. “I used to work with your mother.”

“Right,” Laura says, because what else is she supposed to say? Mom loved saving those strays, usually ones that had been struck somewhere close to Hale property and then either dragged themselves to the porch or were found by Derek or Cora (oh, god, Cora, the only thing left of her little sister was the bows Laura had braided into her hair the morning of the fire).

“I’m Dr. Alan Deaton,” the man offers. His gaze is perfectly sympathetic, and Laura tries to shake the unsettling feeling his bright eyes inspire. He glances dismissively at Derek in the distance before turning back to Laura. “I worked with your mom,” he stresses. “I was her emissary.”

Laura stares at the man before her. Only recently had Mom started explaining what Laura would need to know when she took over the mantle of alpha. An emissary is an advisor, someone trusted who can offer an objective viewpoint and counsel should an alpha require it. Mom had said only the alpha knew who the emissary was to ensure that the emissary would be safe in case of another pack attacking.

Deaton’s heartbeat is steady, his scent unchanged.

He’s not lying.

“You were my mother’s emissary?” Laura confirms, and Deaton nods. “Why are you offering to be mine?”

Deaton holds up a hand, curled as if scooping water. “Your mother did not have time to set up the contacts necessary for you to find your own emissary so I am merely offering my services until such a time that you no longer require them.”

A sudden blip in his heartbeat makes her ears perk. “But?” she says.

Deaton’s eyes dim and his mouth sets in a grim line. “But, I refuse to be emissary of your pack as long as your brother is part of your pack.”

“And why would I kick him out?” Laura asks.

“Because,” Deaton leans closer, sharing a secret, “he is the reason your family is dead.”

Laura draws back, angry.

Deaton holds up his hand again, cupped in the same way. “Kate Argent orchestrated the fire but she received the information about how to get into the house from Derek. They were in a relationship and Derek revealed himself to her. To an Argent.”

Laura finds where Derek is curled down by another headstone, the deputy holding onto him as Derek sobs loudly. The first time he’s broken since that night. Laura’s heart clenches painfully, skin itching with the need to go to her beta, soothe his pain.

“And when did this Argent approach my brother?” Laura has been at college the last few months—she’s going for a degree in child psychology since there aren’t enough therapists in the know. Maybe that was her mistake, leaving her future betas alone for so long.

“A few weeks ago,” Deaton answers.

“And you watched this ‘relationship’ grow without mentioning it to his alpha, my mother?”

Deaton’s heartbeat rises and settles quickly, but it’s his tell—that and the overwhelming stench of guilt rolling off him.

“Excuse me, my beta needs me.” She pushes past the vet, and he grabs her wrist.

“Don’t,” he says, eyes boring into hers. “Don’t push away your best contact.”

“My best contact?” she says icily, jerking her hand free. “My best contact failed to mention that an adult was seeking out an illicit relationship with my underage brother.” A sudden, horrifying thought occurs to Laura and she freezes. Faintly, through the blood rushing in her ears, she can hear Derek whining, reacting to her distress.

“Did you let my family die because you wanted to punish Derek?”

Now it’s her turn to grab Deaton’s wrist. The man barely winces in pain as Laura squeezes his wrist, the bones cracking under her fingers.

“Get the fuck away from us. Don’t ever offer your brand of help again.”

Derek crashes into her back and wraps his arms around her waist. He’s been a whole head taller than her for almost a year now, but he shrinks into her warmth, face pressed against the back of her neck.

Deaton uses the distraction to pull away, his broken wrist cradled to his chest. The deputy watches him go, a knowing look on his face.

“You kids doing all right?” He winces as soon as he speaks and stammers an apology.

“It’s okay,” Laura tells him and only means it a little. As long as she has Derek with her she knows they will be okay even if it isn’t okay right now.

Besides, she can smell the alcohol on his breath, faded, like he hasn’t had a drink in hours, but still there. He’s still grieving his wife. He at least understands where the Hales are at mentally.

“We can’t stay here. Not with that still here.” Laura could probably run Deaton out of town, make sure he never works as an emissary again. Of course, the best solution would be to kill him, but Laura doesn’t think she could do that to her beta. In fact, she isn’t sure she even wants to expand her pack. It wouldn’t feel right. Their family hasn’t even been dead a week yet. She’s not ready to take in new people, train them while she’s still new to her control, to her grief.

Derek tightens his arms around her, his tears soaking through her coat, leaving indelible marks on her skin.

“I understand,” the deputy says. “I hope you find your peace without losing too much of yourself.” He eyes his patrol car sadly, and Laura sees a spindly boy sitting in the front passenger seat. She recognizes him from Cora’s class, from the choir.

“I hope you don’t lose more of yourself,” she offers to the deputy. “And thank you, for all you’ve done for us.”

“Keep in touch, kiddo.”

Laura doesn’t respond, leading Derek, who still hasn’t relinquished his hold on her, to the Camaro. She can’t really say anything right now, still shocked and angry that Deaton, her mother’s emissary, would rather watch the whole family die than help Derek out of a situation that Laura is positive he was pressured in to.

It’s her job as his alpha to protect him, and she can’t do that in Beacon Hills.

There isn’t room to heal when they can’t go anywhere without reminders of their family everywhere. She doesn’t know how the deputy and his son have managed, but she knows it helps that they can’t smell where the people who no longer walk lived and breathed.

“We’re getting out of this town,” Laura tells Derek when he slides into the passenger seat. She reaches across him and buckles him in. Derek just stares at her.

“Peter?” he finally says.

“Do you remember Mom’s friend, Alpha Satomi? I’ll call her, have her check in on him. She’ll also take care of our territory while we’re gone.”

Satomi is the only nearby alpha her mother told her to trust. Ennis and Kali on the west and north sides are power hungry, more of an assembled family than one of blood, not that Laura thinks there’s anything wrong with that. And the Teller pack to the east is bloodthirsty and cruel even to their own pack members.

Satomi is their neighbor to the south, and she has had a long, respectable relationship with Talia. Satomi had offered to take them in for a time, but Laura couldn’t start her tenure as alpha in debt like that and had turned her down.

She wonders if it was the right call.

One way to find out.

She stops at the Quik-Mart on the way out of Beacon Hills, gets a full tank of gas and those chocolate crème things Derek used to like when he was ten. She also buys an atlas and a road map.

The farther they get from town, the easier it is to breathe until the windows are down, and Derek’s hanging out like a dog, sniffing everything new. Laura sometimes forgets that he hasn’t ever left home, a sheltered puppy just waiting to be plucked off the vine by a cruel, remorseless hunter.

Laura vows then, if she ever comes across Kate Argent, she’ll rip her throat out with her teeth.

For now, though, she laughs when Derek pulls his head in and scrapes bugs off his face. And it doesn’t hurt much.

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