half blood hills ▷ teen wolf a.u

Snarky Hermes Trash.

As the fire for offerings sputtered with purple sparks of glee as a particularly large slice of pizza fell into the flames that licked slowly up the already browned salami, the pavilion echoed with the thud of a bench being upended as a buff, blonde figure stormed it's way out of the mess as laughter rang in his ears.

Lydia Martin choked down a laugh as she passed the figure while ascending the stairs to the mess, making a beeline for the Hermes table once she was at the top. Slamming her hand down onto the fresh pinewood, she looked around the now silent table that made no attempt to cover up the badly concealed grins etched on their faces.

"Technically you're breaking camp rules by being here Ms. Martin," a scruffy looking, dark haired boy drawled as he stretched his lanky frame over the picnic table and towards her.

"Technically I'm not sitting down, so we're good Greenberg." At this, his face fell, not used to being outsmarted though it shouldn't have come as a surprise considering his intellect was practically minuscule compared to anyone's- let alone a daughter of Athena's. "Where's Stilinski? I know he was the one that messed with Jackson's face."

"Stilinski? What makes you think that's he's the only one of us who has it in him? Doesn't take much to ask a nymph to whip up a little...something special to put in Golden Boy's Kool-Aid."

"You see Greenberg, Lydia has a one track mind- it's always Stilinski," Erica Reyes called out, quirking a perfectly shaped eyebrow at Lydia as her thumb moved to rest against her dark plum painted lips. "Isn't it Lydia?"

"Cut the vixen act before I cut you Erica. I know Stiles' work when I see it. Now. Where. Is. He?" With each word her hand came down on the table a tad harder and it obviously seemed to work as Greenberg's eyes widened infinitesimally as he looked at his siblings nervously before reaching a silent consensus.

"Archery range," he said lightly, "Practicing y'know....he's very dedicated."

"Yes I know he's...," hissing with indignation as the realisation struck her, she winced, bringing her hand to the back of her head sheepishly as if to punish herself for not being able to deduce it earlier, "...He's behind me isn't he?" She didn't bother turning around, instead raising an eyebrow at Greenberg's stammered excuses, but she felt his presence and felt idiotic for not feeling it before.

"You gonna look me in the eye Blondie?" A voice from behind her quipped- impossible to ignore. Forced to acknowledge his presence, Lydia turned, rolling her eyes as they landed straight onto Stiles' irksome smile .

"Grin all you want Stilinski but that won't change the fact that I'm not even blonde. The nickname's worn off."

"Strawberry blonde. Same difference," he pretended to gag although he let his eyes linger on the sleek curls for a moment to long, envisioning how they'd feel knotted around his fingers as he had his way with her. "Walk with me, Wise Girl," he gestured towards the edge of the pavilion, where Derek Hale sat with Deaton, one sulking while the other seemed to be talking battle strategy. Battle for what, no one'd ever discovered but Deaton always had ploys on his mind so it went unquestioned. "On second thought, Sourwolf there really tends to fuck up my day, so we're going the other way." As the two began to walk, they were met by catcalls from the Hermes table as Stiles flipped them off casually.

"You really do insist on calling him that all the time don't you?"

"Can't help that those teeth are wolfish. I bet the Stolls 10 drachma that he's related to Lycaon."

"Actually only one of Lycaon's sons survived and Nyctimus only-"

"-shut up please."

"Did you just use please?" she gasped, "Stiles, are you getting civil?"

In response, he only laughed as they walked on for a while in silence interspersed only by the jeering that emanated from each table that they strolled past.

"You know," Lydia started, trying to hide her smile at the thought of Jackson's swollen purple cheeks, "You shouldn't be victimising poor Jackson. All he has is his face."

"And his hair. And his biceps. And his abs. And his teeth. And the $20 000 Rolex that he insists on wearing even when we're swordfighting. And the Porsche he has back home. Oh and not to forget his mite sized brain. And his ego, obviously-"

"-Okay alright, we get it."

"So you see," he concluded ceremoniously, "Poor Jackson really isn't that poor. It should be poor Stiles. Poor Stiles for having to justify himself to Athena scum like you." Looking up at the sky that never really seemed to hit pitch black, eternally stuck in a dark navy haze during the nights, he muttered, "Sorry Big A, I was making a point."

"Right, I forgot how much my mom loves you."

"Mm," he hummed noncommittally. "Did you think it was funny?"

"What you did to Jackson? Definitely."

"Good," he smirked, eyes blazing the same amber flames that the sacrificial fire had died down to.

"What did you put in his drink though?" she asked innocently- eyebrows cocked and lips falling into a pout that made wildly inappropriate thoughts flash through Stiles' mind.

He leaned in, eyes flickering with the tricky danger all Hermes kids seemed to love experimenting with, "Who says I had anything to do with that? I was just saying whoever did was perfectly justified."

Taking a backwards step away from her, his eyes lingered on her lips before trailing down to the shirt she sported tonight- the original design for the Half Blood Hills shirt that was created when the camp had been established. Obviously, she'd outgrown it, but it was almost a relic- like an urban legend around here- and being one of the first people here when camp started, she still wore it with pride. And Stiles was wildly appreciative of the fact- keeping in mind how her growth had tightened it in just the right places.

Noticing his gaze she bit the inside of her cheek. "Is it just me or have you gotten a lot more blatantly shameless."

"No, I think it's just you. See you around Wise Girl," he mock saluted before loping off to his friends, irritatingly elegant despite his gangly build. "Scotty, hey Scotty boy...." his voice was drowned out as he moved out of her earshot towards where one incredibly self assured son of Zeus stood waiting for him, leaning against a pillar and eyeing a hunter that he could never get his hands on.

Damn snarky Hermes trash.

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Just saying I love this Lydia- she's so much more controlling and vocal it gives me happiness. Also wet for this this love-hate Stydia dynamic.