You can thank tumblr for this.
review if you can cause I have no clue whether this is terrible or not. i like it. kinda.
PROMPT: Lydia has a dream, or she thinks it's a dream, about Stiles saving her from Peter. Being Lydia, she confronts Stiles about it.
A few nights after staying at that stupid hotel (she told them she had a bad feeling about the place but did they listen, of course not), Lydia had a nightmare.
It wasn't the first time she had dreamt about that night: the night of the winter formal, the night when Peter Hale attacked her.
An event like that is bound to cause some deep psychological trauma, Lydia knew this and had prepared herself for the months, possibly years, of nightmares she would have to face; but this one, this particular nightmare was different. Lydia's dreams about this…experience all usually went along the same lines: she'd be standing in the middle of the lacrosse field, sometimes shouting for Jackson, Peter would attack her and then she would wake up in a cold sweat, struggling to breathe after imagining that Peter kept biting and biting and biting- or that she was drowning in blood, it varied a little. But this time, just before Peter lunged for the kill, Lydia heard someone screaming her name, telling her to run. And this time, Peter didn't kill her and she didn't drown in a pool of her own blood; this time, she felt someone lean over her protectively, begging Peter to spare her. This time, Lydia didn't wake up gasping for breath because she had died in her dream, but because she had been saved. By Stiles.
Lydia was a clever girl, some would say she was a genius, as such she was fully aware that it was a possibility that this change in her reoccurring nightmare was a result due to certain events at a hotel; but it felt too real to be a conjuring of her subconscious, and if her subconscious had wanted her to be saved, she would have dreamt it a long time ago. Being the determined young woman she was, Lydia had to find out whether what she had dreamt was real or not. But it was four o'clock in the morning and it was more logical to wait a few hours until she could hunt him down in school rather than call him, so she tried sleeping. Again.
On Monday morning, Lydia Martin was on a mission: she would find Stiles and have (force) him to help her decipher this dream whether he liked it or not. She fast walked down the school halls, hips swaying as she went, to the row of lockers where she knew he would be. Seeing him leaning against them laughing slightly at something, most likely stupid, that Scott had said, Lydia grabbed his arm and pulled him into the closest empty room, which just so happened to be the janitor's closet.
Once she's yanked Stiles past the threshold and shut the door firmly behind them, Lydia span round to face him, questions already burning on her lips.
"The night of the winter formal, the night Peter attacked me, what happened?" Stiles looked at her confused, "What do you mean, what happened?" Lydia let out a frustrated sigh, "Last night, I had a dream about that night, obviously it wasn't the first dream I've had about it, I did suffer from emotional trauma – " She's stopped by Stiles putting his hand on her arm, "Lydia, what's wrong? What happened in your dream? Did you see something? Like a freaky death premonition or something? – " Interrupting him, Lydia sighs and perches herself on the edge of the table in the small room, "You," she says simply, "You happened in my dream." Stiles is looking at her again with that bewildered expression on his face so she clarifies. "You shouted for me to run, and you saved me from Peter," Lydia pauses, smiling slightly, "You saved me, Stiles." With her short-lived smile fading into a frown, she continues, "I don't know whether it was a dream or not, it felt too real…" She trails off upon seeing Stiles' now somewhat paled face. Lydia gets up from the table and steps closer to him, trying to catch his lowered gaze,
"It's true isn't it? You saved me that night, not Jackson," When Stiles doesn't answer Lydia grabs his now trembling hands, neither are sure whether the shaking is from his constant state of movement or from being from an enclosed space with her, the action forces Stiles to look at Lydia, "Stiles, I need to know: you saved me, real or not real?"
The corner of Stiles' mouth turns up somewhat as he nods slightly, "Yeah, I saved you, I guess." As Stiles lets go of her hands and makes to leave Lydia stops him, "Why didn't you tell me?" He shrugs in response but then decides to answer her question, "It wasn't important, you were safe, I just needed you to be safe, I was going to tell you when I visited you in the hospital but then you went on your naked, midnight stroll in the woods – "
"You needed me to be safe?"
Stiles sighed, sitting in her previous spot on the table, and rubbed a hand over his face, "After losing my mom – " he pauses and takes a shaky breath before continuing, "After losing my mom, I couldn't lose you too –"
"You would have gone out of your freaking mind."
Stiles frowns, "What?"
Lydia smiles and after a moment of hesitation, moves closer to him, "That's what you said to me when I wanted to go help Jackson, you said, and I quote, that if I died, you would literally go out your freaking mind."
Stiles gives a little laugh, smiles one of those smiles he seems to have only for her, and runs his fingers through his hair, "I would." He says quietly and Lydia knows this. She also knows that after that stunt at the hotel, she's not quite sure whether she wouldn't say that same about if Stiles died; the boy had become such a large part of her life that if he was ripped away from her –
She knows that she doesn't want to think about that. But she should because they live in a dangerous world, two powerless humans against the monsters that live under their beds.
It's because she knows this that it's only with the slightest hesitation that she places her hand on his cheek and gently touches her forehead to his, causing Stiles' dark honey eyes to flick to her steady green ones.
"Stiles Stilinski, what are you doing to me?" Lydia whispers and for the first time in her life she is certain that she is completely and utterly unsure of what she is doing, but she has to do something. So instead of fighting herself, Lydia leans in closer, her eyes fluttering shut as she breathes a soft "Thank you" against Stiles' lips, before she touches them lightly with her own.
Lydia Martin knows many things, and while she may not quite know just how she feels about Stiles Stilinski, she knows that he saved her. And not just from Peter Hale.