the_water_clock: abstract painting (Untitled 1958 Coffee and Cinnamon)
[personal profile] the_water_clock
Author: Clio
Title: The Last Thing I Was Dreaming Of
Pairing: Erica Reyes/Lydia Martin
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Lydia thinks maybe there's more to this thing with Erica than just sex, so she tries to make that happen. Whether she's successful is up for debate.
Warning: none
Length: 2000 words
Notes: Written for Femslash February. Title from "Lust to Love" by the Go-Go's. Set a week or so after "Distractions" and in the same timeline as the "baking and waiting" Sterek series. Thanks to verity and radioaches for the once-over!




So it was a thing, apparently. Not just a sex-thing, as Lydia had assumed going in, but a thing-thing, a date-thing, an emotion-thing, a maybe-we-could-spend-some-time-together-thing. And Lydia wasn't sure what to do about this because, well, she'd never actually dated a girl before; she'd only been the girl. Sure, gender roles were antiquated and she ran right over them when she didn't like them but in the area of boys and dating and sex they'd always worked for her.

Was she supposed to just ask her out on a date? How did that work, exactly?

While she was in the middle of this conundrum, the person she least wanted to have catch on to her emotional state—okay, maybe not least, but near the bottom of the list—stared at her a little too much during pack meeting and figured the whole thing out. Not that Stiles staring at her and figuring things out was particularly new, but still.

He cornered her after, gleeful, and poked her in the chest. "You fooled around and fell in love, didn't you?"

"I object to any part of my life being compared to a late sixties rock song," Lydia replied.

"Mid-seventies," Stiles said. "So you're going to ask her out, right? I hear girls like that."

"Don't be heteronormative."

"I'm not," he said. "I just—I know Boyd never actually asked her out on a date. I don't think anyone ever has."

"You really missed the boat there," she said.

"Totally," he admitted, which surprised her since he seemed so all about Derek these days. "And since that's at least partially your fault, you're the one who should rectify it."

"I accept no responsibility," she said, then cocked her head. "Why do you care, anyway?"

He shrugged, a little smile on his face. "She's my—" he began, then stopped. "Look, I can care about people, whatever."

"Fine," Lydia said. "Is that all?"

He stepped back with a flourish of his arm and a little bow, and she made her way past him and out of the house.

Erica was leaning against Lydia's car, and smirked up at her. "Give a girl a ride?" she asked.

Lydia paused on the front steps, considering. No one else was around; Stiles was inside with Derek and all the others had left. Besides, it wasn't like Erica was going to say no.

"Doing anything Saturday?" Lydia asked. "Thought we could go out."

"Sure," Erica said.

"Cool," Lydia said, and got in the car. She was surprised that Erica didn't have anything more to say—didn't ask her what they were doing, or what she should wear, or any of the questions Lydia would have had.

Though, as she climbed into the passenger seat, Erica did ask, "But we're still fucking now, right?"

Lydia put on her sunglasses and checked her lip gloss in the rear view. "No reason why not," she said, and she was pretty sure that twinge in her stomach was nothing like disappointment. Not when there was hot, willing werewolf sex in her immediate future.




Of course Lydia had organized dates before, when Jackson was being too generally incompetent or deliberately obtuse to plan sufficiently. But she realized that she'd been entirely selfish about it at the time. After all, it was Jackson that needed to keep her happy, not the other way around. Now that she actually wanted to plan something that Erica would enjoy, she had no sense of how to begin. They hadn't actually done that much together other than having sex and whatever pack business was afoot. Contrary to most action movies, fighting for your lives together wasn't actually the best basis for a relationship.

Not to mention that she wanted to avoid places that had strong associations with Jackson, like the bowling alley, or Boyd, like the skating rink. Beacon Hills wasn't that large of a town, so there weren't many options. She was sitting out by the pool considering them when her phone rang.

"Some of us are going to Jungle on Saturday," Allison said. "If you'd like to come with us."

Lydia sighed. "Who's 'some of us'?" she asked.

"Me and Scott."

"Given."

"Stiles and Derek."

"Also given. None of the other boys?"

"I don't know if Stiles asked them," Allison said, and Lydia could almost hear her shrugging. "So if you wanted to come and bring … anyone?"

"Anyone?" Lydia asked.

"Well, you never—we talked about Jackson. You never mention Erica."

"There's nothing to say," Lydia replied. "Other than 'the sex is good.'"

Allison hummed.

"Well what would you like me to talk about?" Lydia asked. "That's ninety-nine percent of what we do together."

"And the other one percent is you two staring at each other during pack meetings."

Lydia sighed, annoyed. "Fine, I'll ask her. We were planning to meet, anyway."

"You mean, a date night?" Allison asked.

"Date nights are for middle-aged parents who want to keep the spark in their marriage," Lydia said. "We had casual plans for Saturday because we are casual people having a casual relationship."

"You're not a casual person, Lydia."

"I can be casual," Lydia said, looking at her nails, though she realized Allison couldn't actually see her.

"Okay," Allison said, clearly not believing her, which annoyed Lydia. Of course she could be casual. She just rarely chose to put any energy at all into things that didn't interest her.

She called Erica before she could stop and think about it.

"Hey," Erica said.

"Allison said some people are going to Jungle on Saturday," Lydia said.

"Yeah, Stiles mentioned it."

"And?"

"And I said we had plans so I'd check with you," Erica replied.

"So?"

"So I think Jungle needs two hot chicks like us to break up that sausage fest," Erica replied. "We have just as much right to be there as any of them."

"Definitely," Lydia replied. "I like your reasoning."

"Thank you," Erica said, pausing to accept the compliment, as she should, because Lydia considered it high praise. "Besides, I've never danced with you. I've only danced for you which isn't the same."

Lydia imagined Erica dancing with her, grinding up on her the way she did on Skype sometimes, and had to shift her legs on the chaise. "Sounds like a plan," she said.

Really, this was for the best. First date as a group date was a time-honored high school tradition because it kept the pressure off the new couple, let them breathe a little, let their other friends get used to them. And maybe dancing would soak up some of that sexual charge and they could end the evening with some easy conversation and a nice kiss. That would certainly be a change.




Lydia and Erica were easily the hottest women in the club that night. Well, the three of them, with Allison, who'd apparently inspired Scott to step it up a notch. Even Stiles was wearing a shirt that actually fit him, though Derek was hovering over him with that glare of his so the effect was a wash.

Erica pulled Lydia onto the dance floor as soon as they'd downed their first drink, apparently very serious about making an impression. And it wasn't long before they were the focus of admiring glances, though whether for their dancing or just their impeccable appearance Lydia wasn't sure and, after a while, didn't care. They danced with some other people, with Allison and Scott and even Derek. And of course they danced up on either side of Stiles because teasing him was never not hilarious.

But Lydia found that she mostly had eyes for Erica, was happiest when it was the two of them, had stopped paying attention to putting on a show for anyone other than her date. Thanks to all that Skype-ing she knew what moves Erica liked, what looked good as well as what felt good. Erica was made of such solid, dense muscle that she was good for hanging on to when the floor got crowded and Lydia didn't want to lose her footing. It was … surprisingly nice.

They'd been dancing for well over an hour, showing off to everyone looking at them, when Erica leaned into Lydia's ear and whispered, "I need you," then gently pulled her off the floor and they walked hand in hand toward the bathroom in the back.

Lydia's favorite thing at Jungle, other than the Saturday night DJ who of course was buddies with Danny, was the unisex bathroom. Unisex worked for Jungle; there were too many people playing with gender to make men's and women's rooms practical, never mind that female-identifying people were well in the minority. Lydia always appreciated practicality when she found it, but she also just liked the space and that there was almost never a wait even if a good third of the stalls were occupied by people having sex.

Erica was giggling, gleeful, as she checked for a free stall and then pulled Lydia in after her and shut the door. "I've never done this before," she muttered.

In the brighter, flat light of the bathroom Lydia could see how little control Erica still had. Her eyes were flashing amber and her teeth were just showing. "Careful about the claws, sweetie," Lydia said.

"I won't damage anything permanently," Erica said. "I won't even mess up your lipstick." She lay an open-mouthed kiss on the hollow of Lydia's collarbone, her fangs just barely scraping against the skin.

Lydia rested her head against the partition, let Erica lift her up and take Lydia's weight in her hands, bracketing Lydia with a knee between her legs. Not that they hadn't tried this position before, but never in so public a space. She'd always thought it would be disgusting, doing it in a bathroom, but Erica was good and she wanted it and so she just closed her eyes and decided not to care.

Clearly she'd been wrong about that whole dancing in place of sex idea; dancing led to sex, for them, but then what didn't?




The three couples squashed into one booth at the diner, Lydia in the middle of one bench with Derek on one side and Erica on the other. Fries and pie and coffee were ordered, and Lydia took mini bites because she was neither a werewolf, a warrior-in-training, nor a teenage boy with a frightening metabolism, and she wanted to still fit into her clothes. Scott and Allison cuddled in the corner; Stiles tried to make Derek laugh. Erica held Lydia's hand under the table.

After, Lydia drove back to her house without really thinking, and when they pulled into the driveway Erica said something about being able to taste what had only been on her fingers, and they ended up back in bed. And it was fantastic, as usual.

But when Lydia woke up, Erica was gone—as usual. Lydia couldn't remember a day when Erica had been around in the morning, though she also didn't remember actually asking her to stay. At some point what had started out like a date had ended up like one of their hook-ups, with Erica running home through the stretch of forest that separated their neighborhoods. God, had Lydia turned into one of those terrible men who gave out mixed signals?

She found her bag, her phone inside. She had a text from Erica, a smiley face indicating she'd gotten home okay. Lydia checked the time—ten am, not horrifically early—and called Allison.

"Hey," she said. "Everything okay?"

Lydia cleared her throat. "I think I'm ready to talk about it," she said.


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