Perfect Combinations~ Stydia One Shots

Amour

AN: I don't know french and I'm so sorry if I got everything completely wrong. If you speak French, please correct me.

Stiles caught himself staring at the cute red head in his French class for the ninth time that day. He needed to take a language for his first year of college and he figured French would be an easy A. But Stiles struggled daily to say even the simplest of phrases. He seemed way behind everyone else in the class. But one thing made the class bearable. That thing was Lydia.

It was the first day of class and the first bell had already gone off. The students sat up in their seats and waited for the teacher to start class. Stiles hunched over his desk and buried his head in his hands. He was already bored of this class. He only perked up when he heard the classroom door open quickly. A short girl with fiery hair entered the classroom. She had a pencil behind her ear and her cardigan was completely hanging off one shoulder.

"Désolé. Je suis Lydia Martin. Est-ce que nous nous asseyons n'importe où?" (So sorry. I'm Lydia Martin. Do we just sit anywhere?) She asked. Stiles raised his eyebrows. It was only the first day of class and her french was perfect. He quickly took out his phone and typed what she said into google translate.

"Oui. Asseyez-vous, s'il vous plaît." (Yes, please take a seat) The teacher answered. Lydia fixed her cardigan and slid her glasses down over her eyes. She took the vacant seat next to Stiles and shot him an embarrasses smile. He felt bad for her. It was the first day of class and she was off to a bad start. He wanted to cheer her up.

"Is your name Lydia Martin, or are those some  french words I'm supposed to know?" Stiles whispered to her. Lydia laughed and pushed her glasses up her nose bridge.

"It's my name. But Martin is french actually." She answered.

"Have you taken french before? You seem to know what you're doing." Stiles asked.

"I've never taken a french class but I've studied it on my own here and there." Lydia said. Stiles smiled. She was already his favorite person he'd met so far. She had a certain, je ne sais quoi. (I don't know what)

"If you two are going to insist on talking, could it at least be in french?" The teacher barked towards the two.

"Désolé." (Sorry) Stiles answered. Lydia gave him a quizzical look.

"I learned that from you." He whispered. Lydia bit back a smile. This was her new favorite class.

By the middle of the school year, Stiles and Lydia had become best friends. They always paired up together for projects, with Lydia doing most of the work. Rumor had it that Lydia had never walked to French class without Stiles carrying her books. Stiles loved their friendship but he wanted more. He was in love with her. But a girl like Lydia deserved the best. And Stiles knew that'd never be him. But he didn't want to keep his feelings bottled up any longer. He wanted Lydia to know how he felt. He just needed a good way to tell her.

Stiles tossed and turned in his dorm room all night before an idea came to him. He quickly got out of bed and wrote a note to Lydia on a piece of loose leaf. He stuck it in his pants pocket and went back to sleep.

The next day, Stiles arrived at Lydias dorm and knocked on it. She opened her door and smiled at him.

Bon après-midi, mademoiselle. Prête pour le cours de français?" Stiles greeted. (Good afternoon. Ready for french?) His French had definitely improved. The daily tutoring from Lydia certainly helped.

"Oui monsieur." (Yes sir) Lydia replied with a smile. Stiles instinctually took her backpack off her shoulders and slugged it over his own. He felt the note he had written her burning a hole in his pocket.

"I have something for you. But don't open it until I leave okay?" Stiles instructed.

"Okay." Lydia said. He hesitated before handing her the note.

"Read it now. I'll see you in class." Stiles said. He turned and ran towards the French classroom. Things could potentially get really good or really awkward between him and Lydia once she read the note. Stiles sat down in his seat and waited for Lydia to arrive.

Lydia watched Stiles as he ran away and looked at the note. She tentatively unfolded it. It read, "Chère Lydia, Je t'aime vraiment beaucoup et je pris Dieu que tu ne parles pas très bien français et que tu ne puisses pas comprendre ce que dit cette note." Lydia read the note over and over until every word was burned into her brain. She smiled and ran to find Stiles.

Lydia entered the classroom and sat down in her usual seat, right next to Stiles. She decided to play it cool to antagonize him. Stiles watched her as she sat down, dying for her to say something.

"So?" Stiles asked. He was on the edge of his seat. Literally.

"You do know I'm fluent in French, don't you?" Lydia replied with coy.

"What?" He squeaked. His cheeks flamed as red as her hair. "In the beginning of the year, you said you only knew a little."

"That was a lie. Sometimes I make myself appear dumber than I am around new people. I've been fluent in french since I was twelve. I could read your note just fine. It said 'I really love you alot and I pray to God you don't speak french that well and can't understand what this note says.' You should've written it in a language I don't know if you really didn't want me to know what it said." Lydia informed him.

"That's all you have to say? That I should've written it in a different language?" Stiles asked. He tried to conceal the disappointment in his voice.

"No. I also wanted to say je t'ai aimé pendant des mois et je n'ai jamais eu le courage de te le dire. Tu aurais dû me le dire plus tôt. That's all."

"WELL WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?" Stiles screamed louder than he intended. Lydia smiled.

"It means I've loved you for months and never had the courage to tell you. You should have told me sooner." She said. Stiles sat back in his seat and began to think.

"You definitely know more french than I do." He said.

"That's okay. You'll catch up." Lydia told him. "In the mean time, just ask me how to say things and I'll tell you."

"How do you say 'kiss me' in french?" He asked.

"Embrasse moi." Lydia answered.

"D'accord." (Okay) Stiles said and leaned in, giving her a quick kiss on the lips before the bell rang. Stiles smirked as Lydia's face went red. The teacher walked into the room and began class. Lydia could barely focus that day. The usually meticulous girl was completely absent minded. Her head was dans les nuages, (In the clouds) and Stiles was to blame.