So, this is my first foray into tw fanfiction. I actually wasn't planning on writing it, but I did a tumblr set for this au and I had someone asking me if there was a fic to accompany it, and so here it is.
A warning though, it might be full of errors since I wrote the dialog while at work, and managed to develop everything at 1am, and got around to posting the fic at 4am, so let's just say my mind wasn't in top shape when I worked on it. Also, I know my beta has a lot on her plate right now, and I wanted to post the fic really fast, so I didn't send it to her for reviewing, I just went ahead and posted the thing. Just please, if you notice any mistakes, point them out and I'll love you forever.
One more thing, I don't pretend to know anything about memory loss or how it occurs, but for the sake of fiction, I took some liberties here, so you will notice the memory loss might be slightly selective.
Title from Ed Sheeran's "Give Me Love". Unbeta'ed. Hope you enjoy it!
He doesn't know what he's doing there. He doesn't even know how he knows where her house is, but he does. His whole life has been turned upside down, or so he's been told. He doesn't actually remember much, so he can't confirm or deny those allegations, but ever since he woke up in that hospital bed, he feels like a fish out of water more often than not.
The first week was the worst. He'd woken up disoriented and confused, a girl by his side. She'd been asleep, her head resting on the side of his bed by his thigh, her disheveled red hair - he's not sure it can qualify as red, but it's also not blonde, somewhere between the two, and he's still not sure what that color is called - tickling him slightly, her hands holding on to his like dear life. He remembers her waking up as soon as she'd felt him stir, shooting up like she'd never been asleep, her green eyes wide and disbelieving as she repeated his name over and over again like he was the most amazing sight in the world. He also remembers her face crumpling when she'd realized he didn't know who she was. He remembers feeling his heart squeeze a little at the hurt that seemed to suddenly consume this stranger, her red-rimmed eyes locking onto his one last time before she'd suddenly ran away from his room.
Not two minutes after she'd left, his father had barged into his room, and relief flooded Stiles like a tidal wave. His dad hugged him so tight, Stiles almost couldn't breathe, but he didn't care. His mind felt cluttered and his head was throbbing, and he'd missed his dad. He looked older, but he was familiar and safe, and Stiles felt like a little kid again.
His dad showing up proved to be the only beacon of light in his world of darkness. The beautiful redhead - Lydia, he'd later come to know, and her hair is not exactly red - didn't come back that first week, and Stiles found himself strangely worried about her. It didn't make any sense, but alot of things didn't make sense either.
More people kept stopping by to see him, only to leave looking shattered knowing he couldn't remember them. He couldn't handle seeing so many strangers looking so sad because of something he couldn't control. So, he eventually broke down and asked his dad not to let any more people in to see him, especially after the tan boy with the sad look on his face - Scott, his father told him - had come to see him for the fifth time, and left looking so desperate, Stiles almost wanted to punch himself in the face for not knowing who this boy was.
It wasn't until he was allowed to go home that he'd found himself thinking about these strangers more and more, missing them all. He couldn't explain this connection he felt to them, but he knew it was there. So he'd asked the only person he could about it, his dad.
It took some time for his dad to decide he was ready for it, that he was truly ready to learn about his past, but eventually he'd told him all about the world they lived in, all about werewolves and kanimas and wolfsbane, all about banshees and hunters and betas, and all about the werewolf pack he was part of, a pack that was strangely enough made up of more humans than werewolves. He took comfort in the fact that his dad seemed even more confused than he was.
He knew his dad kept in touch with his friends - strangers, how could he ever think of them as friends when he didn't even know them - so Stiles told him they could start visiting again if they wanted.
And they did. He didn't expect them to, but they did. They came all together, parental units in tow, something he couldn't exactly understand seeing as they weren't kids who needed adult supervision anymore. Lydia avoided his eyes like the plague, but on the rare occasions their eyes did meet, her green ones would water slightly and it felt like he was being punched in the gut every damn time. Scott sat right next to her, and the way their arms brushed, Lydia's fingers clutching at his sleeve every few minutes, Stiles knew they were heeding strength from one another. The brunette, Allison, and the curly haired kid, Isaac, sat on the other couch, both looking worse for wear. Their parents had vanished into the kitchen along with his dad and another man with darker skin and surprisingly clear eyes. Derek.
They barely talked, and the silence was so suffocating, Stiles had to leave the room. They left soon after, and Stiles felt a wave of sadness and relief wash over him at the same time.
He started going through stuff in his room after that, hoping to trigger some memory or another, but nothing ever came. He found some photos, most of him and Scott, some of him and Lydia, and some of the entire pack. The word still sounded weird even in his head. He'd left the photos by his bedside table, taking the time to look at them every night, hoping for some memory to creep into his consciousness. There was one picture in particular that he wanted to remember so badly; he recognized his living room, so he knew the picture was taken at his house. Allison was sitting on the couch, sandwiched between Scott and Derek. She was kissing Derek's cheek, and he looked so put out to be there it was almost comical. On the other side, Scott was holding her hand, his head thrown back in laughter. Sitting on the floor in front of them was Lydia right next to Stiles, holding his hand and looking up at him with the biggest smile on her face as he chewed on a mouthful of what he could only assume was popcorn. Isaac was nowhere to be seen, so Stiles assumed he'd taken the picture. No matter how much he stared at the figures though, wishing he could remember, nothing happened.
The night they all came over to his house for the first time was easily the most uncomfortable in his life. Which is why Stiles couldn't understand what he was doing right now, standing in front of Lydia's bedroom door. The last time they were together, they were barely able to look each other in the eye, let alone have a conversation.
Before he can think it through one more time, he knocks on her door.
"I'm decent," her muffled voice comes yelling back, and it's enough to send a chill up his spine. He's frozen and can't seem to move. "Mom?" He hears her call again when he doesn't answer. "You can come in," she tries again.
Stiles finally snaps out of it, and starts to move backwards, turning to go, but just as he takes the first step, he hears the door swing open and Lydia gasp. He doesn't realize he's turned again until he sees the shocked look on her face, her eyes wide and her lips quivering slightly. They stare at each other for a few seconds, and Stiles takes a moment to truly look at her. She looks tired, bags under her eyes, her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun. She's wearing an oversized red hoodie that looks so strangely familiar, he can swear it's his, with black cotton leggings. Her feet are bare, and Stiles thinks no girl can look more beautiful than Lydia in that moment.
"Hi," she manages to get out, snapping him once again back to reality.
"Hi," he replies, awkwardly waving her way. He cringes slightly, and she has to lower her head to hide the small smile that takes over her features. She looks back up, and they stare at each other for a few more seconds before he finds his voice again. "Sorry, um, your mom let me in." She nods and before she can speak, he's talking again. "At least, I think it was your mom, since, you know, memory loss and all. But she seemed to know me and mentioned something about how happy she was to see me back here, so..." He scratches the back of his head, suddenly very interested in the pattern on her door.
"Oh, yeah, of course," she rambles, and Stiles is slightly relieved to see she's just as nervous as he feels. "I mean, the last few months before your accident we spent all our time at eachother's places, nights included." She winces at her words, because Christ, she just mentioned his accident and she's talking about them sleeping together when he doesn't even know her, what is wrong with her, but Stiles gives her an easy smile and she feels some of the tension leave her shoulders.
"We did?" Stiles asks, because he can't not ask, because he's Stiles, and he wants to remember, and this beautiful girl just mentioned them sleeping in the same place, possibly in the same room, and he'd be an idiot not to ask.
Lydia feels a blush creeping up her neck. "Um, yeah, well, us and the rest of the pack. Sometimes we'd sleep over here, sometimes at your place, and then other times at Scott's or the Argents'. Never at Derek's though, seeing as the man doesn't own any furniture." She's rambling again and she's never felt so nervous, and it's Stiles' turn to hide the smile that's threatening to take over his face.
"Oh," he manages to choke out, and seriously Stilinski, that's the best you can come up with?
"Yeah," Lydia continues and thank god for that. "It was mostly for protection, especially with other packs dropping by every so often, you know, safety in numbers and all." She rolls her eyes at that last part, and Stiles can't help notice how cute she looks.
"And our parents were okay with that?" He says before he can do anything stupid like tell her.
"Oh, yeah," she starts. "Well, my mom's always been oblivious to the world, and Mr. Argent is a hunter so he's always known about the pack. Scott's mom found out eventually and seeing as she agreed to harbor in another underage werewolf, it was safe to assume she was okay with it. Your dad was the last to find out, mostly because you wanted to protect him from everything, but eventually you realized he had to know. Although, it did take him some time to accept it, but he seems okay with it now, I think. Anyway, the point is, they understand pack dynamics and sleepovers are pack dynamic, so they're fine with it." Lydia rolls her eyes again, and it almost looks painfully familiar. "Sorry, um, do you want to come in?" She says after a minute. He's taken aback by the shift in conversation, although he shouldn't be, especially that this is why he came here in the first place.
"Thanks," he mutters, following her into her room.
"Make yourself at home," she says, closing the door behind him, then going to stand awkwardly in the middle of the room, and Stiles can tell she won't make herself comfortable until he's comfortable.
He looks at the bed and is tempted to just plop down on it, but seeing as this is his first time here, or at least the first time he can remember, he opts for her desk chair instead. He flips it, though, so the back is now the front, and straddles the chair, resting his elbows on the backrest.
Lydia moves to stand against her dresser, watching Stiles as he takes in her room.
"I like this," he says, pointing at a stuffed grey wolf on her bed, mostly because he can't stand the silence anymore.
Lydia's eyes widen and water just slightly, but she takes a steadying breath to calm herself and Stiles wants to punch himself in the face.
"Are you okay?" He asks, an overwhelming worry for this girl taking over him once again.
"Sorry, yeah, I'm fine," she mumbles, meeting his eye for just a second before turning to look anywhere else.
"I know I don't remember you and all, but unless your emotions work a different way, I'm pretty sure that almost crying qualifies as you not being okay." He doesn't mean to push, but he can't help it.
"Sorry, I'm okay, I promise," she says, and Stiles has the urge to tell her to stop apologizing so much, but he can feel her about to say more so he keeps quiet instead. "It's just that this is always where you used to sit when you first started coming by my place," she smiles sadly.
"When I first started coming by?" Stiles asks trying to ignore that same sadness overtaking him.
"Yeah, well, once you got used to the room and the house, you plopped down on my bed every chance you got," She says, her smile growing and her eyes glowing like she was remembering something specific, and Stiles feels almost jealous.
"Charming," he laughs, self-deprecating as ever.
She laughs louder this time, and Stiles' own grin widens, proud he's the reason behind it.
"You were," Lydia insists. "Also, that wolf is something that you got me. Well, you and Scott. To keep me safe, that's what you told me." Stiles can feel another memory assaulting her, but this time he smiles, too.
They stay quiet for a few seconds because neither knows what to say, and things start to feel awkward again.
"So, did yo-"
"Can you help me remember you guys?" Stiles says suddenly, interrupting Lydia.
"What?" She asks, a dumb look on her face.
"I was- um, sorry, you do-" Stiles stutters for a moment before he finally gathers the courage to voice what he's thinking. "You can totally say no, but I like how you talk to me about stuff, about how it used to be. Somehow it feels like maybe I can make myself believe I remember it. So can you help me remember more?" He gets out all in one breathe, afraid if he'd stop for any reason, he might not be able to continue.
Lydia opens and closes her mouth like a fish, not sure she heard right. "Yeah, um, totally, sure," she says before he can change his mind. He nods, and there's the awkward silence again.
"So, um, whenever you're free, just, I'm assuming you have my number, so call or text or whatever if you have time," Stiles rambles getting up to leave.
"Oh."
"What?" He stops and turns around to look at her.
"Well, I was thinking, maybe I could start right now, if you're free," She gets out, almost shy.
"Oh."
"What?" She asks and she wants to laugh because she'll be damned if this isn't the most awkward conversation in the history of conversations.
"That would be great. I actually wanted it that way, but I was worried you wouldn't be up for it," he gets out, a hopeful look on his face.
"Of course I'm up for it," she replies all too quickly, and she almost wants to bang her head against the wall because she's scared her eagerness will scare him away.
Stiles slowly walks back into the room. He looks at the desk chair but then makes his way towards her bed and sits on the edge.
Lydia can barely hide the grin on her face. "You can relax, you know," she says feeling herself relax as well at this gesture, knowing the full weight of what Stiles just did.
He's telling her he's ready, and that he truly wants to remember her. Her wants to remember them all, she has to remind herself, because this is not just about her, but she feels a secret thrill knowing that Stiles chose to come to her and no one else.
He smiles and pulls himself up on the mattress until his back bumps against the headboard. "Thanks."
"So," she starts, and he can feel the excitement bubbling in her voice. "First things first, Scott. Pack leader, werewolf extraordinaire, he's like a puppy you wanna hug every chance you get. Except that sometimes he grows fangs and stuff, but whatever. He's also your best friend." She stops, giving him a second to process.
"Yeah?" he asks, remembering the million pictures he found of the two of them, some as far back as when they were five or six. He remembers them smiling or laughing in almost every picture and it's not hard to believe that this boy is his best friend.
"Yeah. Scott's been your best friend probably since before you were even born. You'd die before you let anything happen to him." Lydia frowns a little, and Stiles can feel a memory clouding her vision, something more painful than the ones before. "You actually did nearly die, more than once, to save him." That explains the look. "He'd return the favor any chance he gets. I don't think I've gone a day I haven't seen you two together. Sometimes I'm not even sure you're two different entities." The bubbliness is back in her voice, and there's a quiet fondness there, as well.
"That sounds kinda weird," Stiles says, smiling and furrowing his brow all at once.
"You would think!" Lydia smiles wider. "But everyone's accepted the fact that you two come as a package deal. You still give eachother space for important things like showers and girl time and oth-"
"Girl time?" Stiles interrupts, eyes widening. "Wait, I had a girlfriend?"
"Um, no, not exactly," Lydia says, and Stiles thinks he imagines the blush on her face. "Scott though, him and Allison are in this weird on/off thing and sometimes Isaac is involved and sometimes not and now I'm not even sure if it's a threesome or a triangle anymore," she rambles and a disgusted look crosses her features.
"Well, who wouldn't wanna be around that," Stiles laughs.
Lydia chuckles and he grins wider.
"This is actually why you and I were practically joined at the hip the last few months," Lydia continues, a bit awkwardly. "I mean there's always the option to hang out with Derek, but in time you'll learn that everything's a better option than hanging out with Derek."
"Wait, um, did- do we not like Derek?" Stiles asks and he stops for a second to wonder when the I became a We.
"Oh no, no hate there at all, he's pack after all," Lydia states matter-of-factly. "Derek's just difficult. He's been through hell and back, so he's earned it. I mean his last girlfriend turned out to be a psycho vindictive human-sacrificing bitch." This time, it's anger on Lydia's face as she touches her neck lightly, and Stiles notices for the first time the faint pink scar. A sudden anger overtakes him, but before he can think about it, Lydia's talking again. "He's just not the easiest guy to be around. But no matter how much he pretends not to, Derek cares about us. Alot."
"And he lives alone?" Is all Stiles manages to get out to stop himself from dwelling on the anger.
"Now, yes. For a while there, his sister Cora - a werewolf, too, you like her - lived with him." Stiles can swear he feels a hint of jealousy in Lydia's tone. "But she's skipped town since. There was also Peter, the original alpha, but Derek killed him and became the alpha. Before being killed, though, Peter tried to turn me and failed. He did however develop a connection between me and him that allowed him to manipulate me to bring him back from the dead, and I did, only he came back weaker and decided to become a good guy for a while. But now he's back to his old ways, so he's evil again," Lydia stops to take a deep breath.
"I'm reconsidering that whole getting my memory back thing, to be honest," Stiles quips and Lydia laughs. He can't explain the pride he feels every time he makes her laugh.
"I can stop if it's too much for you to ta-"
"I'm fine, I'm kidding, I'm actually quite enjoying this," he interrupts before she can get any ideas. "My life feels like a supernatural television series." Lydia laughs again, and Stiles grins back, their eyes meeting again. She looks so pretty when she laughs. "So what about the rest?"
"Well, aside from being two thirds of a freaky hybrid ménage-a-trois, Allison and Isaac are pack, too. They protect us in their own ways."
"Cool. And do we get along with them?" Again with the We.
"Oh yeah," Lydia smiles. "Along with being an amazing huntress, Allison's my best friend and one of yours, too," she continues, nodding his way. "And seeing as Isaac lives with Scott, you two have made your peace and get along quite well, actually."
"And Isaac's a werewolf?" Stiles tries to picture the curly haired boy turning into some wild beast. Nope. Not possible.
"Yes, he is. Derek turned him, but then he switched loyalties and became a member of Scott's pack."
"Wait, they can do that?" Stiles raises his eyebrows.
"We were just as surprised then as you are now. But apparently they can."
"Nice."
"Yeah."
Silence settles again as Stiles contemplates his next question. "And, um, what about you?" he asks because he can't hold it in anymore.
"Me?" Lydia's suddenly more uncomfortable than she's ever been.
"Yeah, um. I, um, I mean, were we close?" Stiles stutters out.
"We, um, sort of." Stiles' pleased to hear she sounds just as nervous. "Well, you decided I was the one for you in third grade," Lydia gets out before she can stop herself and her cheeks turn into an unnaturally red color.
"I did?" He isn't really sure he's surprised, even though he cannot actually remember it, and this in itself confuses him more than anything else.
"You did," she replies before she can think it through, and suddenly she's hit with the memory of another time they used those exact same words, and she almost wants to cry.
When I kissed you, you held you breath.
"And you? Did you feel the same?" Stiles asks, snapping Lydia out of it. She considers lying for a second. But this is her chance at a clean slate. No more lying. No more denying how she really feels.
"I did," she lets out truthfully. "It just took me a little longer to realize it."
Stiles knew it was coming. He saw it in her eyes the day he woke up at the hospital. He saw it again that day she came over to his house. He saw it in all those pictures he looked at for nights in a row. But somehow hearing her say it makes it all the more real, and he realizes he's relieved, because this is exactly what he wanted to hear from her. That this stranger for whom he cares so much without understanding it, cares for him too, in equal measures, and maybe even more.
They stare at each other for a few second before he finally clears his throat. "So, um, we were together?"
"Not exactly, no." Lydia looks nervous. "I never got around to telling you how I felt."
"Why not?"
"Because I never fully let myself accept it until you had your accident and I nearly lost you." She lowers her gaze, fighting tears and nearly choking on her last words. She shouldn't be telling him all this. He doesn't remember her, so she knows this must be so very uncomfortable for him, hearing a complete stranger confess her love for him, but she still can't bring herself to shut up. "Well, you don't remember anything anymore, so in some ways, I've already lost you." She looks back up at him, a sad look on her face, and Stiles fights off the urge to go to her. Silence settles for a few minutes, but this time, it's Lydia who breaks it. "I'm sorry, I'm making you uncomfortable."
"No, no, it's fine, I-" Stiles starts to say, but he's interrupted again.
"I just was never honest with you before, and I was so mean to you, and I was just a bitch most of the time," she says laughing humorlessly. "And I don't know, I don't expect anything, I just think if this has taught me anything, it's to always be honest, because everything can be taken away from you any second." Stiles is looking at Lydia and Lydia is looking anywhere other than at Stiles. "This has been sufficiently awkward, so I'm gonna quit while I'm ahead."
"Please don't," Stiles hears himself say before he can stop. "As awkward as this is, I don't remember who I am, so anything helps at this point. Besides, if what you're saying is true, then I've spent eight years in love with you, and if I want to get back to that, you have to keep talking to me."
Lydia feels the wind get knocked out of her. Did she just hear him right?
"You want to get back to being in love with me?" Lydia asks, the disbelieving tone back in her voice. The look on her face is a mix of hope and so much love that Stiles feels his heart squeeze again. "But, you don't, you don't even know me," she stutters.
"I used to. And if I want to understand who I was, then I have to get my old feelings back. And if I spent eight years waiting for you, then you are a big part of those feelings." He can't really understand the sudden boldness that's taken him, but he's glad for it, and their eyes lock again.
"I, I don't know what to say."
"Wait." Stiles is hit with a thought and he prays to anyone who listens for it to be false. "I didn't eventually move on, did I?"
The sadness that washes over Lydia makes Stiles think he did, and he wants to punch himself again. Christ, how could this one girl affect him so much?
"Um. I don't know. Honestly, at one point I thought you did, or maybe convinced myself you did. You were always with Cora, and I don't know, you were never particularly affectionate, but you weren't chasing me around as much anymore." She just looks so sad and confused. "Scott says you didn't move on though, he says you just changed tactics and decided to give me space so I could figure out my feelings for you," she continues, a small smile finally gracing her features again.
"Well, you just said you did, so I must've been a smart guy." The relief that washes over him is like a tidal wave and he feels himself sink further into the mattress.
Lydia smiles.
"You were. So smart it was sometimes scary."
"Yeah well, seeing as you have a pile of big ass books with words like astrophysics and advanced calculus, I'd say you look pretty smart yourself." He points to her desk and her grin widens as she's assaulted by another memory.
That was really smart.
"I am."
"Yeah, you look like the type of smart that could win a Nobel prize or something."
Lydia almost chokes, but she manages to straighten herself up, looking at him with eyes so wide, he's almost scared.
"What?" He asks, suddenly panicking.
"Nothing." Lydia's eyes regain their normal size, but she still looks like she's been hit on the head with a baseball bat. "It's just, we've had this conversation before."
"We did?"
"Yes. We were at a school dance, and you were trying to get me to dance with you. Back then I was a royal bitch to you." Lydia cringes at the memory.
"So you didn't dance with me." Stiles is inexplicably disappointed.
"Actually, I did."
And now he is inexplicably happy.
"Yeah." Lydia insists. Their eyes meet for a few more minutes, and this time it's less stuffy and more comfortable than before, until Stiles suddenly straightens up.
"So, I'm- I should probably get going. I wouldn't want to worry my dad," he says getting up.
"Yeah, yeah, definitely," Lydia says, following suit and walking him outside her room. She doesn't want him to go. But if she tells him now, she'll probably only get him to run faster.
"So, um, thanks for this, I hope we can do it again." He might be pushing his luck, but he doesn't care.
"Yeah, yeah, totally, whenever you want," she smiles as they walk down the stairs. "Just text, or I'll text you, whatever."
"Actually, can we do something this week?" Stiles asks coming to a stop by the front door. "Together, with the rest of our frien- err, pack."
Lydia's eyes go wide again but she quickly recovers jumping at the invitation.
"Yeah, sure, of course, I'll plan something for tomorrow or the day after or something."
"Maybe not a sleepover, I don't think I'm ready for those yet," Stiles says.
"No, of course, maybe a movie night or something."
She opens the door for him.
"Yeah, that sounds good." Stiles turns to her, standing on her porch. He doesn't want to leave.
"We can have it at your place if you want, that way you can kick us out if it becomes too overwhelming for you," Lydia says and Stiles smiles.
"Sounds even better." He lets out a chuckle. They stare at eachother again. They've been doing alot of that, haven't they? "So, I'm gonna..." Stiles says pointing towards his jeep.
"Yeah," Lydia quips awkwardly, then a thought hits her. "Hey, are you good to drive home?"
"Oh, yeah, totally, dad has been driving me all over town to remind me of where everything is and how to get home, so I'm good." She nods. "Bye." He smiles one last time turning away, not knowing what to do with his hands.
He's a few steps away from his jeep when she calls out for him. "Hey, Stiles?"
"Yeah?" He turns and is surprised to see her right in front of him.
"I know this is really weird considering you barely know me, but could you text me when you get home?" She rambles barely taking time to breathe. "It's just something we used to do, and it will put my mind at ease knowing you're safe at home."
"Yeah sure, sure. I have your number, right?" Stiles says, fishing his phone out of his pocket.
"Yeah, um, it's under Lyds."
"Lyds."
"Yeah."
They lock eyes again, this time both smiling shyly. She is so much shorter than he is without her heels. She looks even more nervous than before, and he thinks she might be stalling, but he could also be deluding himself.
Lydia counts to five in her head and before she can think about it, she gets on the tip of her toes and kisses Stiles' cheek.
She quickly walks back up her porch, too scared to see the look on his face.
"Night Lydia," he calls, touching his cheeks and grinning to himself.
"Night Stiles," she calls back, turning to look at him.
They share one last smile before he gets in his jeep and drives off.