Let's all just pretend for a minute that Theo never attacked Stiles's dad and that when he forced his way into Lydia's brain it didn't mess her up and inevitability send her to Eichen. Let's just pretend that he fought with Stiles, asked Lydia how to get to the nemeton and because she wouldn't tell him he knocked her out. Because we were robbed of Stydia this season and this was the perfect opportunity.
The inspiration for this came from two different story inspirations: a conversation my cousin and I had about Stiles's reaction to finding out that Theo hit Lydia and rewatching season 1 and the scene with Stiles and Lydia in her room after the "mountain lion" attack. While writing one they merged together, so I hope you enjoy!
She didn't know the voice's name. She didn't know her own name. Her mind was a fog, a warm, white, calm fog. Except for the voice. She focused in on the sound, the rich tone spiked with high pitches of what could only be concern. Concern for her. The memories came rushing back then: that same voice always breaking through the tension with a sarcastic joke, the knowing whiskey eyes, the quick grin when he found humor in something that wasn't supposed to be funny, unruly hair that had a mind of it's own, hands laid reassuringly on her shoulder or pulling her into a hug when she needed it most, the scent of his skin beneath the warmth of a flannel shirt. Safety. Home. She forced her eyes to open and found his waiting above her. Stiles.
"Hey." He breathed a sigh of relief. "Damn, Lyd. You scared me." Careful fingers traced their way up her face and into her hair causing her to wince when he hit the already forming bruises. "What happened?" he asked quietly, gently pressing down on her shoulders when she tried to sit up. "Stay still." He ordered.
"Theo," her voice came out a rough whisper. "He… He wanted the nemeton. I wouldn't tell him so he…"
"He hit you." Stiles voice was scary calm. His eyes darkened and the hand that wasn't in her hair clenched into a fist.
She tore her eyes away from his, focusing instead on the beams far above her on the library ceiling as she nodded slowly.
Stiles stood up suddenly, storming over to a bookshelf nearby. She didn't see his fist connect with the side of it but she heard the sound it made. Lydia carefully turned her head to see his forehead resting against the shelf, trembling fists clenched at his sides.
"Stiles," She called quietly. He turned to look at her and the fire in his eyes dissolved to concern. He was kneeling next to her within seconds. "Sorry. He just... He isn't getting away with this, Lyd. Not this. If Malia and Scott and everyone else want to believe his crap I don't care. He isn't going to do this and get away with it. Not to you. I'll call Derek and have him come home and take care of him for us. Hell, I'll kill him myself if I have to. I'm not going to let him hurt you again." He gently took her hand in his and pressed his lips to her knuckles, closing his eyes. When they opened again the fire and hatred was replaced with his usual determination.
"Come on," He said as he carefully slid one arm behind her knees and the other behind her shoulders. "Let's get you home." She thought about protesting. Telling him that she could walk, that she was fine. But instead she gave in and pressed her face against the skin of his neck and hid from the world for a moment, knowing that she was safe in his arms.
She didn't know she had fallen asleep until his voice broke through her dreams again. "Hey, Lyd. You gotta wake up for me, okay? There's no way you took a hit like that and walked away without a concussion."
"I didn't walk. You carried me. Cause you're a gentleman like that." Lydia groaned but opened her eyes anyway.
Stiles smiled. "Oh Yeah. Totally concussed."
"You're driving my car." She said, recognizing the shiny black leather instead of the soft worn Jeep seats she was so used to. Stiles frowned. "Yeah, the Jeep's kinda down for the count."
"I'm sorry." She said, slightly surprised to find that she meant the words. The Jeep had become important to her too.
Stiles shrugged but she could see that he was upset. "It was just a matter of time. Duct tape can only do so much."
The rest of the drive was silent until Stiles pulled into her driveway, carefully putting the car into park and jumping out to open her door. "I can walk." She assured him, secretly thankful that he still insisted on keeping one hand steadily on the small of her back as they made their way upstairs.
"Change into something comfy while I go try to find an icepack, okay?" Stiles asked once they were safely in her room.
"Yeah," she answered, slowly making her way to the dresser in the corner. "There should be some in the freezer. Top shelf."
She carefully changed into a pair of yoga pants and an old Beacon Hills Cyclones tee just in time for Stiles to make his way back upstairs, knocking softly on her door before coming in.
He silently handed her two pills to help with the pain and a water bottle. She gladly accepted both. "Here." He said, gently taking her hand and helping her lay down in bed.
"You know," she began, stopping to catch her breath after the shock of cold from the ice pack Stiles gently pressed to her bruised face. "If you don't have anything better to do you could stay..."
Stiles laughed. A full out laugh and even though that wasn't her intention, it had been way too long since she had heard that sound.
Seeing her puzzled expression, he quieted the laughter though it never quite left his eyes. "Do you remember the last time you asked me that? To stay here with you?"
"No…?"
Stiles took a piece of hair next to the towel-wrapped ice pack and twirled it around his finger. "It was the day after Peter, though we didn't know it was Peter at the time, attatcked you and Jackson at the video store. I skipped last period and came her to check on you."
"You did?" Lydia was amazed. She knew he had had a crush on her for years but she didn't realize he cared that much back then. Back when Peter Hale was the scariest monster they had to deal with. Back when she identified herself simply as Jackson Whitmore's girlfriend. Back when Alison was still alive and back when the boy with the buzzed hair and whiskey eyes in her science class was the only one who could see through the dumb girl act she put on.
"Yup. Your Mom let me in. You were higher than a freakin kite. Asked me to stay here with you but before I could get too excited you ruined it all by calling me Jackson." He smiled, lost in the memory.
"God, I was an idiot." She declared.
"Nah, good drugs will do that to you."
"Not about that, though that was pretty horrible." She told him. "The whole thing. Jackson, who I was then, how I treated you. If I had just given you a chance, paid just a little attention…"
"Hey!" Stiles stopped her. "If you haven't noticed, it didn't change the way I saw you. You were perfect to me. Still are."
A tear slipped from behind her lashes as she quietly asked "Why? Why didn't you give up a long time ago?"
The smile that broke out on Stiles's face was one of her favorite smiles; lopsided and sweet, a nostalgic look in his eyes as he answered simply "I had a ten year plan."
She giggled, temporarily forgetting all the problems they still had to deal with. "Well I'm glad it didn't take me that long to realize how much I needed you in my life."
"I would have gladly waited." He answered as he carefully removed the icepack from her cheek. "Feelin better?"
"Yeah. Just tired." She answered, fighting a yawn.
"Go to sleep." He told her, pulling the blankets up closer around her arms. I'll have to wake you up every few hours though."
"K..." she whispered, eyes already closing. He tossed the partially melted ice pack into her bathroom sink and sat down in the chair in the corner, watching over her.
He had thought she was asleep when a soft voice came from the bed. "Hey Stiles?"
"Yeah Lyd?" He jumped up and crossed the room to her side.
"I'm glad you stayed."
Her eyes stayed closed but she smiled as his lips softly pressed to her uninjured cheek. "Always."
Thanks for reading! Let me know if you enjoyed, reviews make me write more. :)
