Title: been holding on too tight
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1,200
Characters: Liam/Hayden, Lydia, Scott
Prompt: "could you write a drabble about liayden's first kiss? :)"
Summary: Part of her is still stuck on the fact that werewolves even exist.
A/N: Just a little follow-up to "howl when we're apart"
been holding on too tight
It's quiet in Scott's living room, which is probably for the best.
She's still, in this moment, trying to process everything that they told her, even though she knows that everything doesn't begin to cover the whole story. She saw Liam and Scott's eyes glow, saw their fangs and their claws, and part of her is still getting stuck on the fact that werewolves even exist, let alone that they're not the only things to. She could tell that Scott was about to get into it all, to start from the beginning, but one look from Lydia cut that short, and Hayden is grateful. She's sure she'll have questions, more questions, to ask later, once her head has stopped spinning. She wants to hear the story from the start, especially after they slipped in things like dead pool and evil spirits and professional assassins.
But, honestly, part of her might still be stuck on what happened just an hour ago – getting stuck in her car, the Dread Doctors (she thinks that's what Lydia called them) coming down the empty strip of road, and then Liam appearing, breaking her out and telling her to run.
She knows it was all real, that she's not in some kind of terrifying nightmare. She knows that she can trust what they're telling her, and she does.
That's what makes it all so freaking scary.
A shiver ripples through Hayden and she wraps her arms around herself. Beside her on the couch, Lydia runs a hand down her back, and it's an oddly comforting gesture. Hayden is glad Scott called Lydia over to help explain things. Somehow she doubts anyone could provide such heavy news with the ease and reassurance Lydia had. It definitely helped.
"Let's go make you some tea," Lydia says, standing, even though she probably knows Hayden isn't just shivering because it's cold.
Liam, still standing beside Scott, shifts on his feet. "Are you sure? It's getting kind of late, right?"
Hayden glances at the clock on the wall, and, in the back of her mind, she realizes it's her first time seeing the time since she checked it on her dashboard, right before her car stopped. It's a quarter after midnight. She probably should be going to bed now, not staying even longer for a cup of tea, but she's too awake to try and get some rest. Clarke is working a graveyard shift at the station and won't be back until school starts, anyway. As long as she beats her sister home, it's not a big deal for her to stay. And she wants to.
She's not all that eager to be alone right now.
And, despite his protest, when she meets Liam's eyes, she gets the feeling he's not all that eager to let her be alone, either.
"Tea would be great, actually," she says. Scott smiles a little as he nods, and she swears she sees Liam exhale ever so slightly, almost sounding relieved. Maybe that's just her nerves messing with her.
Scott and Lydia head into the kitchen, and she rubs over her arms a little, glancing around the living room. The house is small, but it's nice, too. It's comforting.
She feels something brush against her and flinches, but Liam's voice is a lot closer and a lot softer as he murmurs, "Sorry, sorry," as he's hovering in front of her, draping his hoodie over her shoulders. She hesitates, already moving to shrug the thing off, but then he says, "Werewolf body heat," as a reminder, hands pressing down ever so slightly to keep it on. She presses her lips together, contemplating, but then smiles a little, mouthing her thanks as she slips her arms through the sleeves. The thing looks a little big for him, so it's kind of huge on her, but she doesn't mind. She likes it. It's warm, and it smells like mint, and that lavender laundry detergent his mother has been using since forever. It smells like him.
(Her lips twitch into a smile, and she ducks her head, breathing it in a little more.)
Liam settles in next to her on the couch, wiping his hands on his jeans like he does when he's nervous.
"H-How are you holding up?" he asks. He's still sort of just glancing at her from his peripheral, but not really looking at her. He hasn't been able to since showing her his eyes.
She exhales slowly. That's kind of a loaded question, all things considered. "I don't know," she admits, fingers gripping the cuffs of his sleeves. "It's a lot to take in." He nods, glancing down at his lap. "I don't think I'm entirely freaking out, so I guess that could be a good thing."
He chokes out a bit of a laugh. "Well, then, you're already doing a lot better than I had. I was… I mean, you know me. I don't handle that many emotions that well."
"Which means you were terrified, and probably acted like an ass because of it," she guesses. He chuckles, tone a little lighter this time.
"Pretty much," he says.
She chuckles a little, too, and glances down. Her gaze lands on her wrists, and, slowly, she presses her fingertips over her pulse—over the spot where Tracy's claws had dug into her so hard that she'd bled. She traces over her skin. It's still perfectly smooth, not a scar or any sign of that day on her wrist, as it had been ever since she'd washed the blood away in the bathroom sink to find that she hadn't had a scratch on her. Everything has felt a little off since that, and, well. She now knows why, or at least knows enough to piece it together.
If those Dread Doctors really had been after her tonight, then that must mean she's something, and maybe it has to do with why her cuts healed so quickly.
"Hey," Liam says, taking her hands in his, and when she turns her head, he's finally looking in her eyes. She's almost startled with how bright they are, and they're not even glowing anymore. Have they always looked like this? She can't remember. He squeezes his fingers around hers a little. "We'll keep you safe, alright? We will. And we'll figure it all out."
We'll figure you out, he also means, but she doesn't need to hear the words to understand.
She smiles, blinking as her vision blurs a little. She's not crying, and she doesn't need to. She doesn't think she'd hate it if she did in front of Liam, though, which is strange.
"You saved my life tonight," she says.
"Hayden," he starts.
"Oh, my god," she interrupts, exhaling a laugh as she reaches between them and takes his face in her hands. He blinks, surprised, though she sees the corners of his lips twitching upward in a smile. "Just accept my damn thanks, Dunbar," she tells him, and before he can respond, she presses their lips together.
She kisses him softly, her thumb running over the apple of his cheek, and he makes this little noise before kissing her back. It's gentle, simple, but it's also kind of perfect.
After a moment, she pulls away, just a little, their lips still brushing. Her eyes are still closed, and her hands are still lingering on his cheeks, and her senses so crowded by his warmth and his scent that it kind of startles her when his hand settles over her hip.
Her eyelids flutter open, and they're so close, she swears she sees specks of gold glittering in his bright blue eyes.
"I think you should thank me one more time," he whispers, and she breathes out a laugh.