Authors Note: Neither of us own Teen Wolf or any of the characters, all rights are reserved to their respective owners. In no way are we affiliated with the show or the actors involved. We are just two crazy-ass fans who ship Stydia a whole bunch, we just own the writing shown here. Thanks!

- first Stydia one-shot Fanfic written by Mila and Jay.

Jay had this great idea of Stiles and Lydia visiting his mom at the cemetery together, and I immediately loved it. I hope you guys do too :) - Mila

I feel like I should apologize for how crappy I write.. and how unlike Stiles my Stiles actually is, haha. c: enjoy anyway, :3 - Jay

Important! Lydia's P.O.V is written by Mila, and Stiles's P.O.V by Jay. Line breaks are where the P.O.V's are swapped. This is adapted slightly from a post-post roleplay. Enjoy!

Visiting

Chapter 1

Stiles wasn't entirely sure why he'd asked Lydia to come with him that day. Normally Scott would have been the person to accompany him on such an important trip, but with what happened on the night he stayed around the McCall house, he didn't want to bother his best friend more than was necessary. He would have been perfectly capable going by himself; but for some reason, he felt as if it was an impossible task to accomplish alone. Before Scott it was his dad who fulfilled this role, but with him busy and work constantly calling upon him, the last person who Stiles felt he could bring along with him was Lydia. They weren't exactly close; in fact they were always awkward around each other, but for some reason Stiles felt like he got a kind of strength from her that he couldn't get anywhere else. He was very thankful for her agreeing to do this.

"Thank you," Stiles said openly as he pulled his beloved jeep into an empty parking space. The car park itself was pretty empty; all but two cars, not including the turquoise jeep, were parked there. They were at a place that meant a lot to Stiles; a place that everyone in town knew about, but somehow ignored and feared. They paid little to no attention to it unless it was needed, unlike Stiles. He made it mandatory to visit once a month. It got easier each time, too, but he still wasn't ready to come alone. He feared that he never would be able to. "For coming with me. I know it seems a bit weird," he said, pulling the keys from the ignition. He unclipped the seat belt keeping him firmly in place, but still wouldn't look towards the girl in the passenger seat. His caramel eyes were forwards, surveying the area beyond the wrought iron fence.

Through the dark, almost rusted bars, Stiles could see patches of green, pathways and trees dotted around. For a sullen place like this, it was eerily beautiful; especially at times like this when the trees were browning and the leaves were being shed. A soft gust of wind brushed past the jeep and the area around it; picking up copper coloured leaves with invisible hands, before tossing them around in pretty motions in the air. Stiles watched for a second, and then drew in a deep breath as his eyes drifted up above the gates of the area. There, in large, iron letters, read the words: 'BEACON HILLS CEMETERY'.

Stiles didn't at all seem out of place given the fact that he was about to walk inside a grave yard. He seemed totally at ease; like he'd been here every day of his teenage life. He hadn't come here that often, but when he found the time, he made it a self-promise to come once a month with his mom's favourite flowers. Content, Stiles finally looked towards Lydia, who wasn't nearly as calm as he was. Stiles found that a little amusing considering she'd seen more dead bodies in the past month than an adult in their whole life. The bodies here were at peace, though, not torn to shreds like the ones she was used to.

Another moment or two of silence and stillness, and then Stiles made a move. He shoved his faintly clinking keys into his pocket and then turned around to view the back seats of his jeep. He twisted his body nimbly, without any problems, and then with one arm, reached into the back seats to grab something. There, beside his school backpack, was a fresh batch of colourful flowers, a mixture of reds, pinks and purples. Tulips, his mom's favourite. He gripped the flowers and returned to his seat normally, and then held them in his lap for a while. He looked down at them, inspecting them for imperfections, and then raised his eyes to Lydia beside him.
"C'mon," he ushered, and then exited the car, the flowers he'd bought for his mom in his free period in hand.

With the jeep now a bit behind them both and the large, almost scary iron gates separating them from the luscious, peaceful looking grave yard, Stiles pulled up on the collar of his hoodie to keep his neck warm from the faint breeze. The silence that engulfed the pair of teenagers was uneasy, and Stiles could tell that Lydia was uncomfortable with all of this. He wanted her to be relaxed like him; otherwise he could possibly get extremely upset, which hadn't happened in a long time. He was keen to keep his incident-less record going. Just because it was Lydia here instead of Scott or his dad didn't change much. In fact, it might just bring them closer together.
"Looks pretty doesn't it," he began, opening the large gate for Lydia to walk through first. His voice was unwavering, relaxed and for once, not shaky as he spoke to his all-time biggest crush.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, Stiles caught up with Lydia and looked down at her from his taller position while they walked the gravelly path, tomb stones both pretty new and anciently old lining the way. Trees blotted out the sunlight above them, and with the wind brushing through the branches, brown leaves gently fell to the floor around them. To the right there was a couple stood beside a grave, one person much older while the other was a child. Off to the far left, quite a ways away and down a slightly sloping hill, a dark car drove slowly over the gravel, towards the building at the back of the cemetery, where the funerals would take place.
"D'you think Allison still likes Scott?" he brought up randomly, in a cheery attempt to keep the atmosphere light between them. They carried on walking with Stiles partly leading the way down a path that jutted off to the right, to a place where the graves were more spaced, well-kept and generally more beautiful. Where Claudia Stilinski was buried.

The closer they got to the cemetery, the worse the feeling in Lydia's stomach got. It was as if someone had put an elastic band around her insides and was slowly pulling it tighter. She quietly tried to blame the fact that the coffee she had this morning was stronger than the one she usually drank, but deep down she knew that it had nothing to do with what she drank or ate that day. This feeling was unlike any feeling she had ever experienced and it brought waves of slight nausea with it. She kept looking at herself over and over again in the mirror of the Stiles' car, probably seeming like the vainest person on this planet, when all she was doing was staring at herself, because she felt strangely like she didn't know the person in the mirror anymore. There was no way she was going to back out now though, she had already promised Stiles that she would go to the cemetery with him, because Scott couldn't. To be honest, she thought it was pretty shitty of Stiles' best friend to leave him hanging like this. What on earth was Scott so busy doing anyways that he couldn't cancel in order to support his friend?

"Sure," she mumbled when Stiles pulled into an empty parking lot and thanked her for coming here with him. It was no problem; she didn't have any other important plans for the day. Her mother was finally back in Beacon Hills and had offered to take her shopping and afterwards to dinner in some fancy restaurant, which honestly would have been nice … but Lydia had a feeling that Stiles needed her more this afternoon. She could spend hours upon hours looking through shoes and clothes with her mother some other day. Not today. Grabbing her pretty, brown leather purse, she unbuckled her seat belt and glanced up at the big gate. She hadn't been here in a long time, not since her grandmother's funeral several years ago. Lydia had barely known her, which was why she never came to visit the woman's grave. It was a good thing though, not having anyone close to you buried underneath the cold ground.

Swallowing hard, she finally moved and got out of the Jeep, careful not to get her skirt dirty. Stiles' car looked like it had seen better times, but then again, maybe that was just because she was so used to Jackson's Porsche or her own, shiny and new car. Either way, she was glad she had chosen to wear flats instead of high heels. It made getting in and out of the vehicle a lot easier. She walked around the car and over to Stiles, briefly glancing at the batch of flowers in his hand, all warm colours, pink, red and purples, some of Lydia's favourites. "They're beautiful," she commented quietly, a small smile gracing her full, red lips, a smile that slowly faded as they walked towards the iron gate of Beacon Hills' cemetery.

"Looks pretty doesn't it" She didn't understand how Stiles could be so calm in this moment. It seemed to make no sense to her how he wasn't even more uncomfortable than she was. He was the one visiting his mother's grave. She was just his support and yet a feeling of restlessness was crawling over her skin like ants. Without a comment, she stepped through the gate, glancing around as if to expect to find the source for her anxiety, but there was nothing uncommon anywhere to be seen. No Peter Hale standing in the shadows of the trees, watching her, just a few other visitors who paid no attention to Stiles and her.

The worst was the feeling of …'belonging". It grew stronger and stronger as they kept walking along the path and past tomb stones and for a second, Lydia was afraid she was going insane again, because it was getting so intense she was afraid it would overwhelm her and she would drop to the ground, crying. Looking like a nut-job once again was definitely the last thing she ever wanted to do, especially not when she was here to support a friend. Closing her eyes for a few seconds, she inhaled the cool November air and focused on the feeling of the wind blowing through her strawberry blonde hair and the warm rays of sun on her skin. "D'you think Allison still likes Scott?" The sudden, random question startled her and she turned her head to look up at Stiles. "I don't know," she answered automatically, before even thinking about it. "Feelings change." She shrugged lightly, turning her head to look at the flowers besides the path. She honestly wasn't sure about Allison's current feelings towards Scott, her friend preferred to avoid that topic and Lydia wasn't in the mood to play matchmaker for them. She figured if they were supposed to be together, they would have to find a way on their own.

They headed right and soon found themselves in an area where the graves were more spaced. Lydia was quietly wondering how often he came here, but chose not to ask. Instead, she kept her gaze on the flowers and trees around them, with all her senses fully alert even though whatever she felt didn't seem like it was … dangerous. Surrounded by graves, she felt like she was screaming without opening her mouth and crying without shedding any tears. She felt like she was at home and yet trapped, but looking over at Stiles, she realized that he didn't feel like this. She was going insane, yet again.

Birds were chattering in the distance, far off, but still loud enough to be heard by Stiles as he walked. Beneath his vans he could hear the crunch-crunch-crunch of small stony gravelly pieces; and beside him, he could hear the leaves rustling nicely. All together this made for the perfect backing track to what he was doing, but no matter how perfect things seemed to be, it was far from it. The boy's caramel coloured eyes dropped from the surrounding scenery and passing tomb stones, to Lydia, who was walking alongside Stiles closely. The Lydia that he was used to was perky, confident and totally out there; this Lydia before him now was very different. Slowly, Stiles was getting used to the idea of this kind of Lydia. He'd seen her in her most un-Lydia-like states more than most people had; the latest of which being the other night when he drove to her house to check on her. She ended up being totally fine, but Stiles was left with a painful pang in his chest that wouldn't leave him be. She'd confided in him about Jackson that night, and seemed to totally ignore the fact that he was there for her; all for her.

Lydia's answers were extremely short. Stiles didn't like that – in fact, it pushed down harder on that feeling of uneasiness between them. With all of the things that the two of them had seen lately, Stiles wondered if this, being in a cemetery, was perhaps too much for her. He knew that if he'd been around mutilated bodies as much as her and then had come here would mess him up, so what was this doing to Lydia? A looming feeling of guilt washed over the boy as the two of them started down the off-beat path.

Down here the sun was blotted out even more by the thickening leaves overhead. The grass was well-mown, a healthy, deep green, and around them there were a multitude of wooden benches to sit on. This was the nicer part of the cemetery, the place where the richer people would have been buried. Looking up from the path, Stiles caught sight of a few tomb stones he'd passed often. Michael Corday, seventy two, and his wife were buried side by side. Strangely enough, Stiles always managed a small smile at those two graves. Something told him that they had a long, happy life together, and being buried beside one another would have been how they wanted to go. They wouldn't be alone wherever they were now; not unlike his mother.

The silence between Lydia and Stiles, although filled with faintly chirping birds, the soft breeze and the ristle-rastle of leaves around them, was enough to make an ice queen feel uneasy. Stiles felt like he'd dragged Lydia here against her own will, even though she was the one who had agreed to come. She'd gotten in his car through choice, not because he pulled her along. Thinking it over now, he realized it was unfair of him to ask such a thing of her. What if she thought he was weird? Sad? Or what if she thought this was a ploy to get her to like him? Stiles didn't want Lydia to think that he was using his dead mom to get leverage on her, because he really wasn't. He just felt stronger in her company, that was all.

She answered his question with an innocent enough sounding 'I don't know', to which Stiles looked down at the flowers in his hand. He didn't know either – to him, Scott was still very much into Allison, but he hadn't seen much of her around lately. He was always with Scott, no one else. Lydia's voice came again, this time Stiles met her gorgeous green eyes with his caramel coloured orbs. Feelings change. They do. His lips began to curl into a warm smile at her and he nodded, before turning his attention forwards. Now, he had led Lydia off of the main path and onto a less noticeable trail. It led down to a small lake which was, in his opinion, his favourite part of this place. His favourite part of Beacon Hills altogether actually.

"I hope they do get something going again," he said, "I mean, he was way happier when Allison and he were… well, together. Now he's…" Stiles shook his head, shrugged and sighed. "It's like he's focusing on the bad instead of the good. Nothing to be happy about, y'know?" he wasn't sure if this was helping Lydia, but it did him, so he hoped it was the same for her.

Pretty soon it was obvious that Stiles had run out of things to say. His demeanour had grown from relaxed to agitated, and his large eyes were wide and alert. He was staring straight ahead, right down the end of the pathway, where only three graves sat. The one on the left hand side was his mothers'.
"There she is," he spoke quietly, almost a whisper, and actually stopped in his tracks. His footfalls came to a grinding halt and the gravel stopped shifting beneath his feet. His eyebrows turned upwards and he took a deep, much-needed breath. He felt his chest tighten momentarily, all because Lydia wasn't answering him back.

"Look, if you wanna go, I'll drive you home," he said, looking down at the ground, away from where his mother was buried. "I didn't mean to drag you all the way out here. I just… didn't wanna come alone."

Lydia remained quiet when Stiles told her that Scott was happier when he was with Allison. Having never paid that much attention to the werewolf, she wasn't really able to tell a difference, but she believed Stiles. After all, he was Scott's best friend and knew a lot more about what was going on with him than Lydia did. Talking about their friends' broken relationship at the cemetery seemed a little odd to her though and she inwardly found herself wondering why he had brought it up in the first place. She didn't feel like discussing it any further, but this wasn't the place to tell him to shut up either, so she didn't say anything and kept staring down as they walked, watching the red, orange and yellow leaves dancing on the ground. If it hadn't been for the strange feeling in her stomach, this walk would have been pretty harmonic and enjoyable. It reminded her of when she was a child and her father had taken her to the park in autumn, long before her parents had gotten divorced. Life had been so easy back then, she was happy just holding her father's hand, watching the ducks in the river and holding a huge strawberry lollipop in her other hand. The memory faded as fast as it had come and Lydia realized that Stiles had stopped in his tracks.

"There she is." Her eyes followed his, to the end of the pathway where she saw three graves. The left one was the one where Stiles' mother was buried. Just then she realized that she didn't even know how his mother had died. It could have been an accident, it could have been a disease – Lydia was absolutely clueless. As she heard Stiles take a deep breath right next to her, she almost felt as if she was intruding on a private moment between mother and son and she had to remind herself that he wanted her here. What did Scott do when he was here with Stiles? What did he say? Was she supposed to stand here and keep a distance while Stiles walked over to the grave? Was she supposed to go with him? All of a sudden, she didn't feel smart or like a genius anymore, all of a sudden, she was just a dumb, strawberry blonde girl who had never lost anyone who was really close to her. Someone like a loving mother.

"It's okay," she suddenly found herself saying, staring off at the green grass that surrounded the graves. Stiles offered to drive her home, but he didn't have to. For a moment, she was just gazing into space, and then she blinked a few times as if she was coming out of some sort of haze and slowly ran a hand through her hair that was blowing around in the wind. Stiles was still busy looking at the ground, seemingly hesitant about walking over to his mother's grave and Lydia slightly tilted her head looking up at him. "Well, you're not here alone," she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Just a second later she felt a few raindrops on her skin even though the sun was still shining, but neither her nor Stiles seemed to have noticed that the sky wasn't completely free of clouds and that it was slowly getting darker around them. "Stiles" She said his name in a surprisingly soft voice, one that seemed to belong to an angel rather than to Lydia Martin, the bitch. With her eyes still on him, she reached out until her left hand lightly touched his free right hand. Then, all at once, she just took his hand in hers, closing her fingers around his and gently pulling him with her, towards his mother's grave.

Right about now would be the time that Stiles Stilinski would begin to freak out. In his head neurons would by now be firing well beyond their normal range; his heart would be pumping at fifty times the normal and healthy rate, he would begin to lose all sensation in his fingertips and legs and he would stutter like a child. But he didn't. He couldn't. A sudden feeling of overwhelming guilt came over his heart, all at once, like one huge bucket of ice cold water had been tipped over his head. How the hell could he have asked something this huge of her? They weren't even close friends! This was the moment that Stiles realized he'd begun to kid himself into believing that something was there between them… just because he'd been there for her, just because he'd been the one to listen to her about Jackson, and just because he'd fallen asleep in her bedroom. How terribly stupid of him.

'It's okay.'

Looking up from the dark path, Stiles saw Lydia's long, flowing hair being gently tousled in the increasing wind. Like strands of perfect copper, they were to him. And then she turned, and it was like something out of a movie for him. Her hair swished in the air, perfectly framing her shoulders, the speckled but fading sunlight that came through the leaves hit her skin in all of the right places, and those eyes – she had eyes that could stop elephants in their tracks. Eyes that could stop wars. Pools of utter, flawless perfection that he could stare into for the rest of his life. 'Well, you're not here alone.'

What was it about this visit that made everything so difficult? He wasn't alone. He had company. Was that it? Was it Lydia doing this to him? Giving him both strength to walk but at the same time making him feel so insignificant, unwanted and unimportant that he shouldn't bother her with his existence anymore? Lydia said his name in the softest of all tones, and just like that, Stiles's pained expression smoothed out. His tightly pursed, pale lips fell apart, his eyes locked onto those lips of hers and he felt his extremities go numb – in the good way, too.

He swallowed, the only human mechanism left within him that didn't include thought – besides keeping his racing heart from stopping and his lungs from pumping air in and out of his chest. Through the tingly numbness in his fingers, he felt a soft, inviting warmness clasp around his fingers. It got a tad tighter, and then he was gently being tugged down the pathway again. Stiles would have stumbled head over heels if it wasn't for Lydia guiding him safely down that pathway. He would have collapsed and never have gotten back up again.

The tightness in his chest became slightly more bearable with every step that they took together. There it was again, that strength that she instilled into the boy without doing anything at all. It was in those eyes of hers; those impeccable, flawless disks of hue green, it was in those perfect, plump, pink lips and reflected through her unmarred skin. Stiles continued to stare at her a moment longer, before he felt his body react to hers, and his fingers gently tightened against hers. He held on, and followed suit as Lydia brought him to where he had come to be.

And then, after what felt like an endless marathon of numbed walking, they were there. At the end of the pathway; gravestone one, two and three circling them. In front of them now, a rounded, grey hunk of rock that had been expertly carved into a beautiful headstone. The grass covering the grave was exactly like the surrounding blades, showing that it had had many years of growth. Compared to some of the other headstones around them; some tucked behind trees, others sloping down the hill, and the many, many others that they had both passed, this one was among the most beautiful. In large letters read:

'Claudia Stilinski
Adored Wife, Devoted Mother, Forever Loved and Forever Missed'

Stiles didn't take his eyes from Lydia's frame to read it. Instead, he remained observing the girl who'd taken his hand, the girl with the strawberry blonde hair. A voice in the back of his head was screaming, wailing at him to breathe quicker, to make his heart explode in his chest, to yank his hand away from Lydia's in an attempt to keep his balance and prevent a full-blown mess-up, but he pushed it aside. He was at ease now. More than ever. More than he ever had been when Scott was here, or even when his dad had come along to visit her.

In the distance, a huge, booming clap of thunder sounded. What had started out to be a perfect afternoon with warming sun and clear skies had quickly grown into something ugly. The sun had retreated behind the protection of greying clouds, and those puffs of colourless mass began to spittle rain down on Beacon Hills. First it was one drop, and then two, and then Stiles felt the cold pellets hit his face, hair and neck all at once. The rain came down and drowned out the wind, the birds, everything. Even the colour seemed to bleed from the warm autumn surroundings. All except for Lydia's bright hair. As Stiles watched the rain come down relentlessly upon her shoulders and hair, he refused to let go that sense of awe that had come over him. He continued to stare, as if in a trance. His hand gently gripped hers a little tighter as the rain came down heavier still, but he wouldn't let go. Not yet.

Thanks for reading - chapter 2 will be up soon enough, guys! Loving the reviews so far, haha. Let us know what we're doing wrong! - Jay