Author's note: Written for megamaraudersfan on tumblr, and it's a prompt that I've been wanting to write for a while. I intended on writing it following the events of 5x05, but as it doesn't make much sense anymore, I'm writing it after Stiles got Lydia out of Eichen. I don't think it's as emotional as I would have written it then, it's just different. It feels more comforting this way, I think.
Happy holidays, everyone 🎁🎄
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It's just another day of Stiles watching over Lydia, so he wasn't counting on their conversation to go where it ends up going. In truth, he wasn't even expecting her to be awake because every time he's been visiting her for the past few days, Lydia is either heavily drugged with pain medication - and, because of it, mostly incoherent - or she's asleep, so it's a surprise that he's only been sitting on the armchair beside her hospital bed for an hour and twenty minutes when she starts stirring awake.
It's a surprise to her too, since she's been dying to see him but all she can remember are blurred images from when she knows he had stopped by. According to Mrs. McCall, Stiles has been there ever since she was admitted to the hospital nine days ago, only Lydia hadn't been in the best of shapes to talk to him. And finally, after over a week of pure torture, Lydia can see him clearly.
He's holding her left hand, she notices, and has fallen asleep next to her probably out of tiredness. Lydia glances out the window to see that it's night already, and so she lets him sleep for a little more, the bags under his eyes worrying her.
He's sleeping soundly, it seems, and doesn't wake up until half an hour later. Lydia waits patiently while lying on her side to numb her pain some, her thumb brushing across his knuckles constantly. When his eyes pop open, Stiles sits up promptly, excited and surprised at the same time that Lydia is looking back at him with a small smile on her lips.
He doesn't let go of her hand when he realizes he'd fallen asleep holding hers.
She doesn't pull away either.
"Hi," he murmurs, voice still laced with sleep.
Her voice comes out hoarse from little use in the last few days. "Hi."
"I'm so glad you're awake." Stiles leans forward on his seat. "How are you feeling?"
"Better. I've been resting too much," she complains, tired of not being able to get out of bed much.
"Hey, if you need it, you have to rest, alright?" Stiles squeezes her hand, refraining from brushing her hair out of her face. "Doctor's orders, at least until you're all better."
She's been in the hospital ever since he rescued her from Eichen House just over a week ago, but the reason she's still at the hospital is only for precaution by now.
Lydia smiles warmly. "Well, the Doctor said I can be out in two days."
"Really?" He sounds suspicious at that. "Is he sure you're ready? I mean, are you okay?"
Lydia purses her lips. "As okay as I can be, I guess."
"Are you sure? Maybe you should stay here longer-"
"I'm okay, Stiles, I promise," she murmurs, squeezing his hand back. "I'm just impatient to get out of here. I'm starting not to like hospitals at all."
Understandably.
He feels the same way. "I know. I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault. I'm just glad that you got me out of… There…"
She still can't bring herself to talk about Eichen much and he gets it. He'd forget all about that place if he could too. "I wish I'd get you out of there sooner…" he mumbles.
"I'm out of there, that's all that matters now. Thank you, by the way."
"You'd thanked me before." And she had, right after he'd gotten her somewhere safe.
"It'll never feel like I've said it enough," she tells him honestly.
Stiles nods but lowers his head almost in shame for not being able to save her sooner, his forehead resting on their joined hands for a moment until he gets his bearings. "You're coming home with us, by the way. Has someone told you that already?"
Lydia shakes her head. "No. I haven't seen anyone much. Mrs. McCall keeps telling me that one of you has stopped by every time she comes to check in on me, but I'm usually asleep-"
"Or drugged…"
"Yeah... It's been fun," she remarks sarcastically, a hint of a smirk on her lips.
That's good, Stiles thinks, because it only means that she's getting better.
"Am I really going home with you, then?" she asks, hopeful.
His heart shouldn't start beating that fast at that. "Yeah, hmm… We figured you weren't ready to go home with your mom, not yet. Not after she was the one who put you in Eichen. It will be just until you two can figure your things out, of course. And Scott and I, we thought you should stay with someone from the pack for protection, at least until you're 100% okay, so… And dad agreed, obviously," he rambles. "I asked him and he said yes right away. He doesn't want anyone's head getting drilled again anytime soon, let alone yours, so hmm… You're getting the room next to mine." He feels like choking in his own words, and it hadn't happened in so long because of her that he feels slightly disoriented. But hey, seeing the love of his life almost die time and time again does that to a guy. "If you want it, of course."
Lydia nods immediately, her eyes stinging a bit with tears that threaten to escape. "Yes. Thank you."
Seconds pass them by in silence as they look at each other comfortably. "Are you sure you're okay, though? Are you in pain?"
"Just a little bit," she says. "It's actually more like discomfort, I think. These beds really aren't winning any prizes soon," she mocks.
"Do you want me to call Melissa? I'm sure she can fix you up something…"
Stiles starts getting up but Lydia pulls him back down by the hand. "No, I'm okay." He sits again, worry never really leaving his eyes. "Are you?"
"Am I what?"
She knows he's not and that he won't open up about it easily, but she asks anyway. He needs to be able to talk about it with someone, and if the others can't get through to him, all that Lydia can do is try. "Are you okay?"
"I'm not the one in a hospital bed, Lyds. I'm fine."
"The truth, Stiles."
She speaks so lowly that he figures she means something more than just checking in on him.
Stiles frowns.
Damn her smartness.
Lydia raises an eyebrow in response, her tone still calm. "Are you okay?" she repeats.
"I'm just… Worried about everyone. Things are over now but it's been crazy in the last few days," he explains. "Dad got out of the hospital not too long ago and he's already wanting to go back to work. You're here, and so is Liam. Scott's better already but… I don't know, we're all still too alert, too cautious. It's still a lot to deal with. I'm just… Tired, I guess. I'm tired of all of it."
Her thumb starts brushing his knuckles again. "And how is your dad? Mrs. McCall told me what happened."
"He's out of the woods, thankfully. He should be okay soon, the antidote worked," he tells her, a relieved smile on his lips. "He's gonna be just fine."
"And you?" she asks one more time, knowing without really being sure it's real that he does need to talk to someone, otherwise it'll eat away at him. She can't have that.
Stiles figures that there's obviously something Lydia wants to talk about, even if he doesn't know what. The way she's insisting on it is making him a little apprehensive, unsure, worried. "I- I don't know." In part, it's because he hasn't been sleeping again, so he's been constantly on edge and that's not helping him deal with anything. The fact that he's still not talking much to the others is not helping either, even if they're on better terms now. "I just want everyone to be okay."
Stiles kisses her knuckles absently, a tear falling from the corner of his eye without him realizing. He's just so tired of everything. "I just need everyone to be okay," he murmurs.
They've lost too much already.
"And what about you?" she asks, her throat feeling raw for she wants to comfort him but can't move much.
"What about me?"
"I want you to be okay too," she whispers.
His defense mechanism kicks in, and so he tries to relieve the tension that's settling between them. "I'm pretty sure you've asked the same thing like five times already. I'm okay, Lydia."
The banshee lets out a light laughter that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Then I want you to be better. Have you been alright by yourself?" Stiles tilts his head in confusion at her question. "At home, I mean. Mrs. McCall said you didn't want anyone's help, so you stayed home alone while your dad was in the hospital."
"Did she ditch everything to you?" he mocks, but Lydia only gives him a concerned look in response.
"Not everything," she murmurs, and Stiles feels out of breath. "I'm worried about you. We both are. Melissa really cares about you, you know?"
He ignores the fact that she used a plural. "It's okay. I don't want to trouble anyone. I managed just fine, alright?" Stiles looks down, unable to meet her gaze. "It's okay," he repeats, almost like it's a mantra.
Lydia is not having it. Even if she can see how obvious it is that he's suffering, she'd know it even if she couldn't see him. She can feel it. "It's not okay. You're not okay, Stiles. You don't have to be strong for everyone all the time."
There's a moment of silence that stretches to no end, it seems, and when Lydia decides that she does need to move so she can do something, Stiles starts crying. Silent tears roll down his cheeks as he keeps looking down, the only sign that he's present his rapid breathing and his hold on her hand still as if he needs her to anchor him.
And he does.
"You don't look like you're okay," she whispers, aching for his touch. "Come here."
Stiles looks up at that, meeting her eyes.
It physically hurts her seeing him like this. He's never deserved any of it.
He doesn't move aside from that, so Lydia continues. "I can't move much, Stiles, so unless you come closer I can't do anything to comfort you. And I need to comfort you, Stiles." She sighs. "I want to help." I need you to be okay it'swhat she doesn't say.
Stiles is not sure what makes him move, because in truth he's terrified of wherever this conversation will lead them. There's obviously a point that Lydia wants to get at, but despite his reluctance Stiles gets up and gives in, lying beside her when Lydia moves over to make more room for him on the bed, even lifting the sheets so he can move closer to her under the covers.
He wasn't ready to start crying unstoppably as soon as he found himself in her arms, but then again he wasn't really counting on climbing into bed with her when he came to check on her either, so there's that.
Lydia doesn't say anything, just runs her hand through his hair as Stiles cries silently against the crook of her neck, murmuring comforting words every other second until there are no more tears left for him to shed. His breathing calms eventually but she doesn't let go, pressing light kisses on his hair from time to time until she finds the courage to confess to him what she'd rather forget about, what she wishes had never happened to him in the first place.
"I know what happened with Donovan," she lets out, and Stiles looks up at her with horror in his features. "It's one of the memories Theo left me with, and I saw it when Valack did the uh-" she points to the hole that was drilled into her skull, still unable to talk much about it. "I remembered it then. I saw a lot of things," she mumbles. "You didn't have a choice, Stiles," she tells him, focusing on him because he needs her more than she needs him right now.
Stiles sits up on the bed, breathing irregularly. "I-"
"You couldn't have known that he would die."
"But he did," he tells her, voice raspy.
"And you survived. It wasn't your fault."
"He died because of me, Lydia. Donovan is dead because of me," he whispers, his voice failing him. Feeling breathless all of a sudden, Stiles supports himself on the mattress and looks down, his mind becoming cloudy, his breathing erratic.
Lydia senses a panic attack coming up and so she tries her best to sit too, tilting his chin up when she's settled. "It wasn't your fault," she enunciates clearly, slowly, letting it sink in. "He threatened you and your dad and you defended yourself. It's all you could've done." Stiles closes his eyes and lets out a shaky breath. "How's your shoulder?"
His eyes open quickly again. "How do you know about that?"
"Theo's memories. A lot of them passed on to me when he dug his claws on my neck." Stiles gulps, remembering Lydia's empty gaze when they'd found her catatonic close to the Nemeton. "Some of them weren't clear, but the most recent were. He's the one who sent Donovan after you. Theo was close by, watching the whole thing. If someone is at fault for what happened, it's him," she tells him.
He knows that, but how can he believe it? "I'm the one with his blood on my hands."
"Not willingly."
"I don't know about that," he confesses. He sees Void looking back at him in the mirror sometimes. He can't help but wonder just how much of Void he has become with time.
"I do," she says confidently, cupping his cheeks. "You had no other choice. You were trying to defend yourself and you couldn't know releasing the scaffolding would end up killing Donovan. Wanting to survive doesn't make you a villain."
"I don't know about anything anymore," he lets out.
"We'll figure it out, alright?"
Stiles looks back at her to find a small, almost shy smile on her lips, determination in her eyes. He only nods in response at how hopeful she's looking back at him.
"And your shoulder?" she asks again, pursing her lips.
"It's better," he replies automatically. It's all he's been bringing himself to say when someone asks him about it now that the whole pack knows what happened. He doesn't want to worry anyone anymore.
Lydia's features turn hard for a moment, decisive. "That's the last time you're gonna lie to me, Stiles," she says calmly, her thumbs brushing his cheekbones this time. "How is your shoulder?"
He hates that she can be so strong like this. He loves it, but he hates it. "It's uh- It's not healing. It's marked and it's not healing, but I don't think it's infected either."
She nods in understanding. "We'll ask Melissa to take a look at it when she comes by on her next round, maybe even Deaton if we have to."
"That's not necess-"
She cuts him short. "It is. And you'll let her, alright?" Stiles bites on his lower lip. He's never wanted anyone to worry about him. "We can only help you if you let us, Stiles. And I want to help you. I want you to be okay. Really okay," she adds when he starts shaking his head.
"I don't deserve it. I don't deserve any of it. I… Lydia, I killed someone. And it's not even the first time. I-"
"Void wasn't you, Stiles. And Donovan isn't your fault," she admonishes. "Yes, you should have told someone about it after it happened, but Stiles… I can only imagine that any of us would have done the same thing if we were in your place. It's… It's too many fucked up things at the same time and we are forced to deal with the next one when we haven't even learned how to live with the one that just happened. It's overwhelming, and time passes us by and we're always a step behind and never ready for what's to come but… That's just life. Ours just ends up being more chaotic than that of others."
Lydia pauses, catching her breath. "What's done is done, and nothing we can do will ever change that. It's something that you'll have to live with. It's still your action even though it's not your fault but Stiles, you need to learn how to live with it. And we're here to help you with that."
His lower lip trembles. "I never wanted it to happen."
Lydia leans forward, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and he lets her, feeling safe in her arms like he hasn't in so, so long. "I know." She's not sure how long they stay in the same position, but she doesn't care anyway. "We'll make this work," she whispers in his ear. "We will. I promise you, Stiles, we will."
"Thank you" is all he can reply, sighing when Lydia kisses his forehead. He doesn't feel worthy of it but he doesn't stop her either.
"It'll be okay. Just… Don't keep things to yourself from now on. It's always better when we know."
He smiles at her choice of words. To Lydia it feels like a small victory, however broken the smile he gives her is.
Stiles gets up from the bed to return to his seat on the armchair beside her when he feels better, comforted in a way that he thinks no one else could have made him feel, reaching out for her hand again. Lydia pouts at his distance, but soon relaxes when he tucks her in properly and rests his chin on his other hand, by the edge of the mattress. Lydia nuzzles closer to him, their fingers entwining without them realizing it.
"I'm sorry you had to go through that," she tells him honestly.
"I'm sorry too." For that and for a lot of other things, he thinks, and he knows she understands. "On behalf of full disclosure, I'm really glad you're here. Not here here, but just that you're out of there. And that you'll be okay," he confesses.
"Me too. I'm glad you're here and that you'll be okay. We all will," she murmurs. "We'll figure it out, like we always do."
And that's a promise she'll keep forever.
"Thank you for this," he tells her, feeling far better than he's been feeling for weeks. Ever since it happened, really.
"Anytime," she smiles. "You would have done the same thing for me." He nods. Of course he would, without hesitation. "You should go home and rest. You look like hell," she teases, determined to lighten up the mood.
Stiles lets out a half chuckle. "I kind of went through it, so…"
Lydia raises an eyebrow. "That's your excuse?"
"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he says softly.
Lydia's cheeks redden a bit. "I am now." The gaze they share is anything but innocent but now it's not the time for another emotional conversation. The time for that will come.
(Sooner than he thinks, even if he doesn't know it yet.)
"Tell me what I missed."
He shares the most important fact first, of course, thrilled to see that Lydia is in fact feeling better too. "Roscoe is alive. It's all fixed up, Lydia. You have to see it…"
Lydia gets comfortable, hearing him ramble for another hour before she eventually succumbs to sleep, and it's no surprise that when she wakes up in the morning, Stiles is still there beside her, the same way he always was and always will be.
She wouldn't have it any other way.
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Author's note: Please let me know what you think :)