What The Hell Did We Do?

Lydia Martin: Queen Of New Orleans

After Stiles refilled with some electrolytes, he was rearing to go. Naturally he was about to call his best friend and Alpha first of all but then..."
"Stiles? It's...it's Lydia."
Lydia said over the phone.
"Lyds? What number is this?"
Stiles asked. "Where are you?"
"I'm using a payphone. I can't find my cell anywhere and I don't know how but I'm in New Orleans."
Lydia said distressed.
"How did you end up all the way there?" Stiles asked.
"I just told you I don't know!" Lydia snapped.
"I'm sorry. Stay in a central location so we could find you.
We're leaving now."
Stiles said.
"Alright. I'll just go back into Rousseau's. That's the bar." Lydia sighed.
"Alright. We'll come get you."
Stiles said and hung up.
"Scott?" Derek asked.
"Lydia. Change of plans...We're going to
New Orleans. We have to get Lydia." Stiles said.
"Of course. Let's find her and get the to others." Derek said, grabbing the keys to the Camero.
"We could be married. Us! Lydia is going to be pissed." Stiles yelled as he got in the car.
"Lydia'll get over it."
Derek said.
"Get over it? She's not going to understand. Oh gee, I really hope Hallmark sells an apology card that says Sorry I got high and possibly married to a freaking GUY! You're the side bitch now. Yeah. That'll be... Perfect." Stiles said sarcastically as Derek cracked up in the driver's seat. "Stop laughing. It's not funny."
"It really is. Hallmark card."
Derek laughed.

NEW ORLEANS

"Think Lydia. Think. What the hell did you do?" Lydia asked running her hands through her hair.
"I can help you with that." A stranger in the dark corner of the bar said.
"You saw me last night?"
"Sweetheart, everyone saw you. Made a name for yourself." He moved closer.
"Was I a slut?" Lydia asked.
"I would never call a young woman a slut. You just got a little... Sexually liberal."
He said. Lydia chuckled.
"Well thanks. Does a name come with that wit and pretty face?" Lydia asked.
"We met last night but you were out of it. Marcel Gerard. At your service." Marcel said.
"Gerard huh? Last Gerard I met was kind of__"
"A bastard. Hunted your friends. Lydia Martin. The Banshee." Marcel said.
"Did I tell you anything else?"
Lydia sighed.
"That you miss having sex with other guys. Regret never having sex with some guy named Parrish." Marcel went on. "You threw back a couple and my friend Cami had to cut you off. Then you left. I followed to make sure you didn't get yourself hurt cause you seem like a nice girl.
Went to burlesque club and got up on stage and started dancing__" Lydia grew more and more mortified as her new friend filled in the blanks.

50 MILES TO NEW ORLEANS

"I hope the others are okay.
Man this was a bad idea! I was just trying to fix things." Stiles groaned.
"You're obsessing! Yes the method was...questionable but you had the right idea. We're not fighting anymore." Stiles smiled. Before he knew it, they were in New Orleans.
Soon in the bar Lydia mentioned.
"Good. You're here. This is?" Stiles asked.
"You must be the boyfriend. I'm Marcel Gerard. And don't worry. I didn't touch her. I was a perfect gentleman." Marcel added.
"Well that's...kind. I'm just going to take her home now." Stiles said and took Lydia's hand. Derek and Marcel stared at each knowingly before following the others out. "Now we just have to find, Liam, Scott and Malia."
"You gonna tell her?"
Derek asked.
"May as well. Babe, I may have married Derek last night." That's where the conversation ended because Lydia didn't want to talk about it.