So I was talking to smileyfacebabe, and she said something about a fic she wrote and it got me thinking, so here y'all are.

Disclaimer: I still, still, don't bloody own Teen Wolf. 'Scuse me while I sob in the corner.

Stiles doesn't really know when it started.

Okay, that's a lie. He remembers perfectly.

It started when Lydia ran through the woods naked for two days, and before his dad could give her his huge Sheriff's coat, Stiles was stripping off his plaid shirt, carefully threading her arms through the sleeves and deftly buttoning it up. Then, while he struggled not to shiver in his white under shirt, she tucked herself under his arm, desperately trying to get warm. They stayed that way until Lydia was put in a hospital bed, and then sent home.

The day after, she turned up, dressed in tiny pyjamas shorts and a tank top, in his drive way, car nowhere to be seen.

"Lydia? Did you walk here?" She nodded distractedly.

"Aren't you going to ask me why I'm here?"

"No. You just look like you need someone. Wanna come inside? You look cold." She followed him as he unlocked his front door, and stepped inside. He moved around setting down keys and putting his phone on charge. He had learnt his lesson about charging it as soon as he got the chance. You really need a way to contact people fast in Beacon Hills.

Lydia perched on a stool in the kitchen as he shuffled around making hot cocoa to warm her up.

"Wait here a sec, Lyds." He clattered up the stairs and grabbed a plaid shirt of his; a blue one this time, and a pair of sweatpants. He turned to go back downstairs, and then turned back and grabbed a pair of fluffy socks, and his favourite hoodie. Racing back downstairs, he found Lydia standing in his hallway, cocoa clutched in small, delicate hands, staring at the picture on his wall.

"Is this you and your mom?" She asked quietly. The picture was of him as a child, with longer hair still, and a tall, slim woman who looked just like him. He gently took her drink and set it on the cabinet against the wall, then slipped the shirt around her shoulders.

"Feet up, Lyds. And yes, it is." She lifted each foot and stepped into the sweatpants. He pulled them up over her slim hips, then tied the drawstring tight, to stop them slipping back down. He had rolled them up so she didn't trip.

"She's beautiful." He coaxed her arms into his shirt, and buttoned it, swallowing hard as his fingers brushed her flat stomach. Ignoring the customary flutter in his stomach, he muscled her into his hoodie, and the socks.

"Yeah she is." He liked that she referred to his mom in the present tense. "Speaking of moms, does yours know where you are?" Lydia picked up her cocoa and took a sip.

"No. She doesn't care anyway." Stiles made a mental note to text his dad and ask him to let Lydia's mom know where she was.

"Wanna watch tv?" He asked. A shudder ran through her tiny frame, and he breathed a sigh of relief that she was warm enough that her body had recognised that it was cold, and was trying to warm up. Her fingertips, peeking out of the sleeves of his hoodie, were no longer blue, but a pale white. Not amazing, but good enough to avoid frostbite.

"Sure." She followed him over to the couch, where he sat her down, and then draped a soft, thick blanket over her. She was back to normal enough that she quirked a small smile at his fussing. He dug through his extensive film collection until he found her favourite, and set it up to play, scrambling back to the couch. Settling in, he managed to quell his noise of surprise when she spread the blanket over him and burrowed into his side.

She let out a laugh when the beginning of Beauty and The Beast played.

"Not even Jackson knows this is my favourite film. He still thinks it's The Notebook. I shouldn't be surprised that you know, really." She told him, violent shivers racking her limbs as she began to warm up properly. He flinched as she slid her fingertips under his shirt to steal his warmth.

"Jesus, Lyds, you're freezing! How long were you out there?" She shrugged into him, and pushed her fingers further under his shirt, completely unconcerned with social parameters. He sighed, handed her the cocoa, and picked up his own in one hand, wrapping his free arm around her shoulders.

They spent the rest of the afternoon watching Disney films and debating over who the best villain was.

When Lydia reluctantly asked to be driven home, he didn't ask for his clothes back, even though she had his favourite hoodie.

The clothing theft didn't happen again until another pack kidnapped Lydia and tried to turn her, to test her immunity.

After the pack had rescued her, and she had been taken home, she had turned up at his house, dressed in his sweatpants, and the red shirt he had given her when she had been found in the woods, as well as his favourite hoodie.

And if his heart gave a little jump at seeing her in his clothes, no one needed to know, right?

She didn't even say anything, just barrelled into his chest and started sobbing.

He scooped her up, kicked the front door shut, and went upstairs to his bedroom. He shut that door, too, bundled them both in his quilt and lay them down on his bed. Then he just held her while she cried, until she had a headache, and didn't have any more tears left. Then he fetched her aspirin, and a glass of water, and let her lean against his chest while they watched Hercules. He didn't mention the multiple bite marks that would likely leave scars for the rest of her life, and she didn't mention that she had stolen another of his shirts.

When the Sheriff came home after his shift, he found them fast asleep in Stiles' bed, twisted together so tightly he wasn't sure where one ended and the other began, one weak from blood loss, the other exhausted from worrying about her and searching for her. One of Stiles' hands was wrapped around her waist, the other pillowing her head, and his long fingers were spread across one of the bandages.

He just turned out the light, and shut the door.

Surprisingly, no one said anything when they showed up at school together the next morning, Lydia in a skirt, and his tied off plaid shirt.

And no one protested when they drove away together when the last bell rang. They got fro yo, and went to the movies.

Over the next few weeks, they spent more and more time together, Lydia stealing something and bringing one item back every time she did so.

She admitted to sleeping in his shirts, so he gave her some of his t shirts instead, stating they were more comfortable to sleep in; he knew from experience.

Lydia blushed a faint pink, and got up to play the movie.

It was the first time he had seen her blush.

Three months later, and there was another attack. A rogue omega jumped Isaac on his way to the store, and Isaac was injured badly. He survived, and healed, and the omega was killed, but it seemed to spook Lydia.

She showed up at his house again. She had spent so much time there she greeted the Sheriff by name.

"Hey, John."

"Lyds! Are you staying for dinner?" She nodded, and gestured to the stairs.

"Is Stiles upstairs?"

"Yeah, give him a prod, would you, poor kid's asleep on his homework again." She gave a lilting chuckle.

Ascending to Stiles' room, she knocked, and upon receiving no answer, opened the door to find Stiles slumped over his desk uncomfortably, snoring softly.

She flicked his ear gently, startling him out of his slumber, and sending him tumbling to the floor in shock. One look at him sprawled on the floor, blinking slowly, had her laughing until she couldn't breathe, immediately feeling better. He laughed with her, and then scooped her up in a hug. She clung to his shoulders, breathing in his familiar scent of cinnamon and cardamom, relaxing in increments as they stumbled lazily over to his bed and lay down.

They traded stories of their day, napped for an hour or two, and then sleepily made their way down to eat with the Sheriff before he left for his shift.

"Dad. Is that real bacon?" John shifted guiltily. Stiles made a face, and Lydia cheekily swiped a piece of the bacon from Stiles' plate. She munched cheerily, unable to be sad in Stiles' presence. He swore at her mid rant, and she stole another piece. He tickled her until she gave it back, squealing the entire time, both of them giggling and poking each other.

They leaned into each other panting, and realised the Sheriff was watching them with a fond smile on his face.

"You remind me of your mother and I, the pair of you." He said, and then carried on eating.

Both of them blushed this time.

There will be more of this, but I'm too tired right now, and this seemed like a decent place to stop, so here y'all are.

G x