Alright, here's another one!
This one was requested by stilesbanshee on tumblr: "Your take on the possible make out/dream between Stiles and Lydia. Please and thank you :)"
I hope you like it!
I don't own Teen Wolf.
Lydia jerked awake, disoriented.
"Wake up…"
"I'm up," she replied, stretching.
Looking around, she saw that she was in Stiles' room. She had curled up in the beanbag under the window while doing research with Stiles, and now he was telling her to wake up.
Apparently the Sheriff had turned the light off after they'd accidentally fell asleep when he left for the station, because the only reason she could see what little she could was because of the moonlight filtering through the window.
"Wake up…It's just a dream."
She looked over to Stiles, who was lying on his bed surrounded by papers. He looked like he was asleep.
Slowly, she got up and walked over to his bed, repositioning her baggy shirt that shirt that she threw on before she left her house. The collar ended up falling off of one of her shoulders, but she ignored it.
"Stiles?" she asked. "Are you okay?"
She stood at the foot of the bed, and she could tell that he had been tossing and turning.
"Wake up…" he repeated, more desperately this time. He turned onto his side, curling in on himself.
"Stiles," she said, crawling onto the bed and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Stiles, it's okay."
His whole body was shaking, but he didn't feel cold. In fact, he was sweating.
She had to wake him up.
"Stiles," she said again, shaking him. "Stiles, get up! It's not real!"
"It's just a dream…"
"That's right, it's just a dream," she said. "Now wake up!"
He rolled onto his back, his chest heaving in obvious fear.
"Stiles!" she screamed, starting to get scared herself. "Stiles, wake up!"
Her voice cracked and she could feel the tears in her eyes. What if he couldn't wake up? Was it a side effect of the darkness, that he couldn't wake up from a tortured nightmare until it was finished with him? Why didn't she know the answers already? She was his emotional tether, she should know these things!
She kept on shaking him, but he gave no response other than tossing and turning.
She tried to stay calm, she really did, but she was breaking quickly. By the time she realized he actually might not wake up until the nightmare was over, her brain was processing it as never waking up again.
"Wake up!" she yelled, "Stiles, wake up!"
Her brain was in panic mode, so trying to think of a solution was not working. So in sheer panic, she did the first thing that came to mind.
She kissed him.
As she pressed her lips to his, she almost immediately felt him tense. She pulled away and sat back, watching as Stiles sat straight up, arms flailing.
She breathed a small sigh of relief as she looked at him, her eyes wide as the panic subsided.
Taking deep breaths to steady himself, he laid back down for a second.
"Stiles?" she asked. "Are you okay?"
His eyes popped open and he looked at her with a confused expression. "Lydia, what are you doing here?"
"We fell asleep doing research," she said dismissively. "What were you dreaming about?"
"It was like a dream within a dream," he said, thinking. He got up quickly, surprising Lydia, and walked toward the half open door.
"Stiles, what are you doing?" she asked.
"I have to shut the door," he said.
"Why?" She was confused. "Just come back to bed."
"But they could get in," he argued, getting frantic.
"Who?" she asked, an uneasiness filling her stomach. "It was just a dream, Stiles. Come back to bed."
"But what if they get in?" he said.
"They won't," she replied. "Just come back to bed."
He looked at her for a second, debating her words. Finally, he shut the door and sat on the foot of the bed beside her and put his head in his hands.
"Do you wanna talk about it?" she offered awkwardly.
Sighing, he ran a hand down his face. "Um…not really? I just – I don't know how to explain it."
"Take your time," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "If you wanna talk about it, I'm here."
"Thanks," he replied sincerely.
They sat in silence for a while, and Lydia laid back on the bed, her legs dangling off from the knees down, feet several inched from the ground.
She knew that he hadn't been sleeping, but she had no idea that he was having nightmares. Atleast, not like that.
Shouldn't she have known that he was having this much trouble? She didn't even know how this tether thing was supposed to work after the whole sacrifice business, but she was pretty sure she should know when someone close to her was suffering.
She knew about Allison's hallucinations about Kate. Even though she wasn't extremely close with Scott, she knew that he was having trouble transforming. Why didn't she know about Stiles? She had been completely clueless, and Lydia Martin was never clueless.
Well, there was that one time that she was clueless for eight years about the honey-eyed boy sitting next to her, but never mind that.
"You were there," he finally said, pulling her out of her thoughts. "You were trying to scream, but you couldn't."
She sat up slowly, waiting for him to continue.
"I don't really remember that much, but you were there, and so was Alison and my dad-" his voice broke, and she saw his shoulders lift as he took a deep breath.
"Scott was there, too," he continued with a thick voice. "And there was so much blood. Blood on my hands, all over me. He said that it was me…"
His voice broke again, and he put his head in his hand, trying to calm down.
"I'm sorry," he said after a minute.
She didn't say anything, she just moved. She put her arm around him, and she felt him lean into her slightly. She rubbed his back soothingly, and after a minute, he laid his head in her lap. He pulled his legs up onto the bed, using Lydia's lap as a pillow.
She wasn't expecting it, but she didn't mind it at all. She ran a hand through his hair, starting at the base of the neck, knowing that it would relax him. Feeling him shiver, she couldn't help but smile a little.
"That feels really good," he said a minute later.
"Good," she replied. "It's supposed to. It'll help you relax."
They were both silent as she played with the hair on his neck, and she felt him relaxing little by little.
Finally, he sat up and it took everything in her not to tell him to lay back down.
"You know, I'm really glad you're here," he told her looking her in the eyes.
She stared back, her heart swelling at the sincerity and warmth radiating from his eyes. She would never get used to that, not that she wanted to.
"Me, too," she replied, smiling.
The longer they stared at each other, the more she wanted him to do something. She wasn't sure what, but there were butterflies in her stomach, and she wanted him to fix it. She watched as he licked his lips slowly, and the desire to feel them crashing into hers was so sudden and overwhelming that her breath caught. Looking away quickly, she took a deep breath, trying not to blush.
"Are you okay?" he asked, putting a hand on her shoulder. Her entire body tingled at the contact.
"I'm fine," she said breathlessly. He looked at her with those concerned filled eyes, and he squeezed her shoulder, sending a shill own her spine as she shuddered.
"Are you cold?" he asked worriedly. "Here," he reached back to grab a blanket, "why don't you-"
He was interrupted by her lips touching his. She pulled away before he could react as her senses came back to her.
"I'm sorry," she apologized. "That was rude of me. What were you saying?"
He was sitting there, eyes wide in shock, "I-I'm not sure."
They sat there awkwardly as Stiles tried to find words again.
"Was that a cold shiver?" he finally asked.
She rolled her lips and shook her head, knowing that he would see right through a lie.
She looked up at him and saw a glint in his eye that she recognized, but wasn't used to seeing it on him.
Pure, raw desire.
He cupped the side of her face, pushing her curls out of the way and kissed her hungrily. She kissed him back just as fiercely, opening her mouth as his tongue traced her lips.
Wasting no time, she climbed onto his lap, her legs on either side of his, her hands roaming his body. God, he was gorgeous. How could she have ignored him for so long?
He pulled away for breath, but she wasn't done. She left a trail of kisses down his neck, kissing each of his freckles.
"Lydia," he said, out of breath. His hand tightened around her thighs as he pulled her closer, and she looked her ankles behind his back.
"Lydia," he tried again, "what are-"
"Shut up and kiss me," she said, pulling his lips to hers. She didn't want to think. Thinking made her ignore him for eight years, and she didn't want to do that anymore.
He was the sweetest, most considerate, most beautiful man she had ever met, and she was pretty sure she was falling in love with him.
But right now she just cared about was getting as close to him as physically possible.
Her hands travelled down to the hem of his shirt and started pulling it up, running her hands over his abdomen. She felt the shudder go through his body as her nails grazed over his chest, and she couldn't help but smile against his lips.
They pulled apart briefly as she pulled his shirt over his head. Taking a breath, she placed her hands on his chest, tracing lines between the few freckles he had there. He was breathing heavily, and as she lowered herself back onto his lap to the freckles on his chest, she felt something…extra there.
A jolt of desire coursed through her and she pulled him down to kiss him again.
His arms wrapped around her waist, and she made a noise of indignation. He tried to pull away, but she held his face to hers. When she was sure he wasn't going to pull away, she took his hand and place them on either side of her ribcage, praying that he would get the hint. He did.
She moaned in pleasure as he caressed her breast, and she pulled out of the kiss to take off her shirt.
"Wait," he said breathlessly, grabbing her wrists as she pulled on the hem of her own shirt. He closed his eyes and sighed like he just thought of something.
"What?" she asked, confused.
He licked his lips – which did not help the stalemate at all – and looked her in the eyes. "What about Aiden?"
She froze. Aiden. She had completely forgotten about him. To be honest, she hadn't even thought about him since she saw him at school earlier that day.
Sighing, she climbed off of his lap and sat on the bed.
"That's what I thought," he said softly before blowing out a deep breath.
She was absolutely mortified.
"I'm so sorry," she said, her face in her hands.
"It's fine," he replied. "I, uh, I won't tell him. This never happened."
"You want to pretend like this never happened?" Lydia asked incredulously. She shook her head. "I don't think I can do that."
"Sure you can," he replied, and she thought she detected a bitterness in his tone. "You did it with the kiss."
She looked at him, and he was looking at his hands.
"I mean, understand that you just did it to stop my panic attack, and that it didn't mean anything to you, but it meant something to me." He paused, raising his head slightly. "Why did you want to make out with me?"
Did her seriously have to ask that question? "I think it's pretty obvious."
"Yeah," he nodded. "It was, uh, to, uh, distract me, right? So I wouldn't have to think about the nightmare?"
"What? No!" She couldn't believe he was suggesting such a thing. "That kiss meant something to me. This – what just happened – meant something."
"What?" he asked angrily. "What did a kiss with me, goofy Stiles, meant to you, perfect Lydia Martin?"
"Everything!" she yelled, standing up. He looked at her with wide eyes. "It meant everything. When I first kissed you, yeah, it was to help you. But as soon as our lips touched it was so much more than that. I haven't been able to get it out of my mind."
"Really?" he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.
She nodded. "Every time I kiss Aiden, I think of you."
She meant every word she said.
"Then why are you still with him?" he asked, standing up himself.
She shrugged. "Because he's safe?"
"Safe?" he snorted. "Aiden. We are talking about the same guy here, right? The one who tried to kill a lot of people, and succeeded in killing Erica and Boyd. Yeah, he's totally safe."
"He's emotionally safe, moron," she said with a roll of her eyes.
"Emotionally safe?" he asked. "What does that even mean?"
She rolled her eyes again. Boys. "You know…safe. I don't have to worry with him. We have fun, and if it doesn't work out, then it's not that big of a deal."
"So…you're dating Aiden because it's 'no harm, no foul' if it doesn't work out?" he asked, obviously baffled by her logic. To be honest, when he said it, it didn't make that much sense to her either.
"I don't know," she said. "I just – I mean – it's like-"
"What about me?" he interrupted. "How emotionally safe am I?"
This is the last thing she wanted to talk about right now. Or ever.
"I, um…I should probably go," she said, going to grab her purse from beside the beanbag. "It's late."
She pushed past him to the door, but he caught her arm to stop her.
"Hey," he said, "tell me. How emotionally safe am I?"
She looked him straight in the eye. "You're not."
She shook his hand off and walked out.
"Lydia!" he called after her. She was halfway down the stairs when she heard him coming after her. "Lydia, wait!"
She stormed into the entryway right as the door opened and the Sheriff walked in.
"Hey, Lydia," he said, sounding tired. "Heading out?"
She nodded as Stiles came into the entryway, pulling his shirt back on.
"Lydia, just wait a minute," he told her.
"No," she snapped, her chest tightening at bother of her escape routes being blocked. She couldn't talk about this. Not now. She wasn't ready. "I should go."
"Is everything okay?" Sheriff asked, looking between the two of them.
"Everything's fine," she replied with a forced smile. "But I should be going. School night and all."
Sheriff Stilinski nodded suspiciously, but sensing that she needed escape, moved out of the way to the door.
Quickly, she opened it and walked off of the porch to her car.
"Lydia, please!" Stiles yelled after her. "Let's talk just for a minute!"
She looked to the doorway as she got in her car. Stiles was standing in the there, held back by his father's hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, I can't!" she yelled back.
Driving off, she didn't look back.
How could she have been so stupid? She shouldn't have said anything. She shouldn't have kissed him. Why was she such an idiot? Talking about emotional safety to the person that was as safe to her emotionally as a spark of flame was to a dry forest.
Stiles Stilinski was the most dangerous boy she'd ever met. Because she was falling for him. Hard. He wasn't just Stiles, the idiot she ignored throughout most of their academic career. No, now he was Stiles, the sweet, loving, loyal, amazing man who was stealing her heart.
And she didn't know how to handle that.
As always, I'd love to hear what you guys think about it. Hope you have a happy New Year's!