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Lydia is restless.
She's tossed and turned in every direction and the sheets end up screwed in a ball at her feet. She lays there, shivering.
She spends half of the night wide awake in bed, staring up at her ceiling as her mind plays tricks on her. She processes all that had happened with the hunters, finding everything hard to believe. It eventually registers that she almost died and figures that Stiles should probably know that they are out hunting the hunters again. Before it all turns upside down.
Last time it got too out of hand, it should never get like that again.
She tries to imagine what would of happened if her stab wound from a few nights ago was fatal. Morbidly, she tries to think of how Scott would tell Stiles, how Stiles would react, what he'd end up doing. The answers her own grave mind feed her are awful, she hates herself for even thinking it, but she knows that Stiles had to learn about this sooner or later. And she guesses she'd rather be alive when that happens.
He's flying into Beacon Hills from College today, all the way from D.C. Although he isn't due to land until mid-afternoon, Lydia's up by six, a mixture of nerves and excitement.
She knew telling Stiles over the phone about the hunters was stupid and cowardly. She knew it was easier to tell him where she couldn't see his face because his reaction would've killed her. Besides, if it was face to face they would've argued. Logically, she was just trying to save their breath. They argued last time when they finally had chance to talk about how she kept him out of the loop of things, and it wasn't the best for either of them.
She can't imagine he'll be too happy when he finds out she was stabbed.
And he'll be so annoyed when he learns that she was balancing classes at MIT as well as travelling from city to city to stop the people that want them dead. He believes in her more than anyone when it comes to winning the Fields Medal, so the supernatural having some priority over her education makes Stiles angry. He cares for her in a way that no boy has ever done.
But, she knows her and Stiles are up for a heated discussion.
They haven't seen one another for three weeks, which is not as long as they have been going without one another. Most times they go as long as six weeks, which kills them both. It's too difficult trying to find time. They're still selfish with one another because everything's new to them. They're still getting to know each other as more than friends. They fuck when they can and if it's possible, they don't talk supernatural if they only have a night together.
She dresses in blue ripped jeans and an olive green cami vest, she layers a khaki colored cardigan on top. One of her favorites because it's so warm and woolly. She steps into her brown boots and throws her brown bag in the crook of her arm. She takes another glance at herself in the mirror. Her skin tinted from foundation, her eyelashes long and curled from mascara, eyebrows darkened, lips red and her hair hung in curls down to her waist. She looks normal, not like a banshee, not like she was stabbed a few days ago and like she hasn't been hiding her life from her boyfriend.
She grabs her keys and slams the front door shut as she leaves.
She knows it's going to take her a while to get there, because of traffic, so she's thankful that she leaves early. Plus, tapping her fingers on the wheel makes her nerves calm. The traffic makes her remember how excited she is to see Stiles.
She imagines his burning amber eyes, how his nose will be red because of the cold and how his hair will be ruffled because of the wind.
She finds her paid parking spot at the airport, gets out of the car and walks into the waiting area that's swarming with people. She imagines people coming home for thanksgiving, possibly from College like Stiles or maybe people who have been on vacation. She can't help but be jealous that when people's loved ones return home they probably wouldn't have to say goodbye again. They would be home for good. Lydia knows she'll have to force Stiles back up to D.C no matter how heartbreaking. No matter the protest he'll put up.
She finds a spot by a pillar that isn't as crowded, she doesn't have a sign for him, so she just stands on her tiptoes scanning the flight board. She finds his flight number on the side, a smile ghosting her face when it reads 'on time'.
It takes another twenty minutes for Stiles' flight to come through the gate, and when Lydia's phone buzzes in her pocket she knows it's from him.
Just landed, where you to? x
She scans her surroundings, spots a Starbucks opposite her so she texts back:
Opposite Starbucks x
His response takes two seconds:
I should've known ;) x
She smiles to herself and tucks her phone back in her pocket and focuses her gaze on the gate. She thinks she sees him once or twice, but it's not. It isn't until she looks at Starbucks she sees him, stood there with his suitcase in one hand and his backpack slung around one shoulder, scanning the crowd for her. A wave of longing washes through her, spreading all the way to her toes.
She's been like steel since Stiles went, every time he comes home she melts. When he leaves again, she's stone cold, like a routine. She doesn't have any other options, she has to be head strong when Stiles isn't around. If she isn't then she's dead weight, Jackson made that much very clear. Although, she can't remember the last time she's allowed herself to want him this much, maybe it was her near-death experience changing her, but she can't help tripping over her own feet to run into his arms.
He's dressed in a thick grey jumper and black jeans, she imagines his feet must be freezing in his sneakers and she makes a mental note to take him shoe shopping when they get chance. Over his jumper he has a black bomber jacket, which can't be too warm, she thinks. His chocolate brown hair is covered with a dark blue beanie.
She meets his arms and he holds her tight against him, her arms wrap around his neck. He smells so familiar that Lydia's eyes begin watering, and despite the cold outside he feels warm, he feels like home.
"God, I've missed you." Is the first thing Stiles says, his head nuzzled in her neck; breathing her in.
"Me too," She whispers back. "Me too."
They pull back and lock eyes for the first time.
She always forgets about the galaxy that are Stiles' eyes. She forgets about the swirls and twirls of gold and amber and shades of brown that merge together to create something as beautiful as the sky. She loves them, falls for his eyes before she falls for anything else. Although, she notices they're not as bright as they usually are, but she blames the travelling.
She reaches up to peck his lips and although they're happy to see one another, she can tell he's thinking about what she's been hiding.
"How was your flight?" Lydia asks when they pull back, she grabs his suitcase and starts pulling it along for him as they walk.
"I was stuck next to some drunk, pretty sure that's his slobber." Stiles laughs as he pulls at his shirt sleeve, and Lydia smiles too.
She misses him so much sometimes, she forgets how much she needs him to be reminded of the good left in this world.
"Can't say I've had such a fun time here." Lydia jokes, but realizes she shouldn't of said it, she knows it'll upset Stiles.
"So I've heard," Stiles sighs, he scratches his forehead like he's thinking. "Scott called me before I boarded."
"Scott called?"
"Gave me a briefing on what's been happening." He says almost offhandedly, she looks at him to see what he's feeling, and she can tell he knows about her being stabbed. And he isn't happy about it.
"Nothing new really," She says as they reach her car so she opens the trunk and he heaves his suitcase up and drops it in. "Just the same old hunters trying to kill us."
"Just the same old stab wounds?" Stiles says flatly. He gets in the car and slams the door shut.
Lydia stands there for a moment trying to remain calm about the situation. The last thing she wants is a shouting match. She tries to appreciate that he's been travelling for a while, he's been working really hard and he's flown in a few days after she called him, so he's bound to be angry. She told him about the hunters on the phone, surprisingly he hadn't freaked out to much. But now he would, knowing she got hurt.
She swings herself in the car but Stiles doesn't say anything, she turns the key in the ignition with a sigh. She knows if it was him who was hurt she would be angry, but only to an extent. Can't he be thankful she's safe now?
"Let's be adults about this." Lydia mutters as she reverses out of her car spot, she steps on the gas as they head toward the exit, following the white arrows on the road.
"If you were an adult you wouldn't be stupid enough to get involved. Despite being a banshee you heal like a human." He says the last bit softly, because the only reason they argue about this is because he cares.
Lydia has to appreciate this, him. Because who has ever cared about her this deeply?
"Don't remind me," Lydia sighs, she signals left as she follows the line of traffic out of the airport. "I'm aware it's my weakness."
"Lydia don't do that." Stiles says warmly.
He reaches a hand out and runs it soothingly up her thigh, squeezing slightly. Her insides flip-flop. She imagines what sex will be like with him later, its been a while for them to be separated. She has to have some more self-control, because all it takes is a simple touch and she forgives him for everything. She forgets about the troubles at hand and she will just melt. She doesn't even have the energy to defend herself when his hand has her like that.
She finally gets onto the highway, signalling they're finally en route for Beacon Hills.
"Point is," Lydia tuts. "The hunters are too smart."
"You're smart." Stiles looks at her.
"I'm a genius," Lydia turns to him briefly to see a slight smirk on his face. She flashes him a smile. "They're something else, though."
"How long were you in Seattle?" He asks, his foot tapping on the floor, his eyes skimming the road ahead.
He's anxious, she can tell after spending only ten minutes with him.
"A week or so." Lydia replies. "Don't know how you live down in D.C I hear it's fucking freezing." She changes the subject, purposely.
They edge nearer to home, taking back roads to avoid traffic.
"Beacon Hills isn't much better."
Lydia ignores that, she isn't sure if it's a dig about her coming back to fight the supernatural.
They drive for a while until Lydia speaks again. "Are you hungry? Do you want me to pick you anything up?"
"Lydia," He looks at her seriously. "I'm always hungry."
It isn't long before the greasiness of their In-N-Out burger wears off and they're sat in Lydia's front room, limbs tangled in limbs until things start getting heated between the two. And it's not the good kind of heated either.
"How's your classes going?" Stiles asks as his fingers absent-mindlessly trace Lydia's thigh, she shivers at the contact and nudges her face into his neck.
"They're okay," Lydia states.
She thinks about telling him how she's afraid she'll fall behind because of travelling around the country to track the hunters. She almost tells him about a new theory they learned in math the other day and she almost tells him about her hypothesis but she's too tired. She hates herself for being so short with him sometimes, but it's exhausting being her.
"Just okay?"
"Yeah." She murmurs into his skin and shuts her eyes.
Her head starts throbbing from tiredness. She guesses it's not a good idea waking up at six.
"Have you missed any?" He asks, and Lydia wants to kick herself because she visibly freezes. "Being down in D.C. isn't exactly two minutes away from MIT."
She pulls back and looks at him, his eyes aren't looking at her so she sighs then pulls away, completely.
"Seriously?" She rolls her eyes and slumps on the sofa, away from Stiles. Although his hand is still on her thigh she misses the warmth of his body. "I can't keep arguing about the same shit all the time."
"We're not arguing," He runs a hand over his face. "We're discussing."
"What exactly are we discussing?" Lydia raises an eyebrow.
"The danger you keep putting yourself in." Stiles turns to look at her and she rolls her eyes, already tired of where this conversation is going to lead them. "Lydia, please, I can't lose you too."
"What about you, huh? Am I supposed to let you go out into some heroic-human battle and allow you to sacrifice yourself for Scott?" She unintentionally raises her voice at him as she feels her throat becoming tighter with tears. "It works both ways."
"Then stop putting yourself in these situations!"
"If I stopped would you?" Lydia looks at him, waits for an answer which she gets from the look in his eyes. "Exactly."
She supposes the only person she has to blame is Scott because it's easier to blame him than herself or Stiles. Both of them, Stiles more so, are so fiercely loyal to Scott that they can't back down from this yet, not after coming this far. They both know it causes them arguments, because every damn time they go into battle one of them gets seriously hurt, as if God is reminding them they are human. Yet they carry on doing it. They keep flirting with death as if they have a reason to.
"What are we supposed to do?" Stiles asks quietly and Lydia slumps back into his arms again.
She isn't sure if he's asking what to do about their problem, or how to be be less loyal to Scott, or how to move forward, but Lydia doesn't know the answer. She never knows the answer when it comes to the Supernatural.
"I guess we be more careful," Lydia eventually answers. "We can still fight and not get hurt, right?"
Lydia looks up at Stiles who looks doubtful, so she allows herself a small laugh and he smiles too.
"But you can't keep lying to me," He says seriously. "You can't sacrifice MIT for the supernatural," She considers this. "What if you get hurt and I don't know about it?"
"I don't need you to protect me." She says stiffly.
She regrets being so cold with him, but she's stubborn and he knows it. She can never fully allow him to be gentle with her, when she's capable of being blunt, she will be.
"Lyds," He says softly and she's forced to look at him. She knows they aren't kids anymore, she knows that this is serious and now isn't the time to be acting up but she can't help it. "I know you can fend for yourself," He tells her, his eyes determined. He holds onto her hand, and she looks down at them. "It isn't about that. What am I supposed to do if you get hurt?"
She meets his gaze again, unsure if he wants an answer to that question. Maybe the reason she warms towards him is because he's being selfish, for once he's thinking about himself and not her.
"Please, no more secrets, no more lies." He begs and kisses her knuckles affectionately.
Something inside her goes weak because she forgets what it's like when Stiles is around. She forgets what it's like to wind down when she's with him, the only person she can truly be herself with.
"How about this," She turns to him, squeezing his hand. "Every time we want to make sure that the other is telling the truth we say 'relationship'? And if one of us says it we answer truthfully."
"Like pinky-promise we're telling the truth?"
"Exactly," She nods. "Just our version of it."
Stiles looks at her for a moment, as if deciding, then nods.
"Do an example." He asks.
"Okay, ask me something." Lydia shrugs.
"Have you missed any classes at MIT?" He raises his eyebrows at her.
"Only a few."
"Relationship?"
"Relationship." She nods because she's telling the truth, it's only been two or three lessons she's missed, and she can catch up on those. She pecks his lips.
"Okay," He smiles and for once Lydia feels proud of herself for resolving one of their problems, properly. Usually she just has sex with him, not that she minds that. "That's not a bad idea."
"Obviously it's not," She winks at him. "I came up with it."
He smiles at her, his eyes sparkling when he looks at her. She presses her lips to him, tilting her chin upwards to get him at a better angle. She misses being able to do this, kiss him when she pleases and hold him when she wants.
She moves a leg over him, straddling his waist so her jeans are up against his jeans, creating nice friction. His hands fly to her waist, steadying her as their tongues continue dancing. They find it hard to refrain from doing this when they see each other, it's almost like the way they catch up with one another is to kiss or have sex. Not that either of them complains.
Lydia's cardigan has just fell messily to the ground when Stiles' phone starts ringing.
"Ignore it." Lydia murmurs against his lips.
He pecks her then pulls away. "It's Scott."
Lydia sighs and pulls back letting Stiles take the call. She admires the way her red lipstick has tinted Stiles' lips. She reaches a finger out and traces his lips, rubbing at the lipstick that he's fashioning.
"Wait, seriously?" She hears him say so she frowns at him, confused. He holds onto her wrist, stopping her actions. "We'll be right over."
He hangs up and Lydia just wants to scream because they can't even have their first night together.
"What was that about?" Lydia asks as she gets off of his lap and pulls her cardigan on over her top, half disappointed that they didn't continue what the were doing.
"It's Deaton." Stiles shakes his head as if he can't make sense of it. "He's gone missing."
Lydia's heart drops.
Scott and Stiles' reunion isn't any different than usual. They hug for a long time and Stiles ruffles Scott's hair like a dog, then they smile at each other. Lydia can't help but be jealous when she thinks of how her and Allison deserved that. They deserved a dorm room together or if they didn't go to the same college then they deserved reunions. She tries to forget it.
"So, what do you mean Deatons missing?" Lydia finally asks when they've all settled down in the living room, finding Malia perched on the arm of a chair when they walk in. "Wasn't he just in Seattle with us?"
Scott looks blank, for once, like he doesn't have an answer and he doesn't have a solution.
"I went to the clinic today, I promised I'd help out and-" He looks like he might cry, which is unlike Scott. "He wasn't there. No note. No nothing. He'd left it unlocked. I tried to call him but he didn't answer."
It's silent for a moment.
"What if it's got something to do with Monroe?" Malia speaks up and Lydia's surprised she'd assume that, considering it's Scott.
The pack is silent, all processing the information and the possibilities. All Lydia can wonder is if this is intentional, to hurt Scott, because once you damage the leader there isn't much hope left. The pack painfully learned that when the Dread Doctors were walking around Beacon Hills. It would seem like the perfect way to destroy the pack, for once and for all. Lydia knows they're weaker than Monroe, but she never considered surrendering, not after all the people that died to get them here.
"I know," Scott mutters. As if he already had that idea but didn't want to admit it. "I don't know what to do, or how to get him back or-"
"Scott," Malia says calmly, running a hand up and down his back in comfort. "We'll figure it out."
He nods and falls into her slightly. Although Lydia can never imagine anyone really replacing Allison to Scott, she likes to think Malia is a good place to start.
"What if we don't find him alive?" His voice is a croak and Lydia has never seen the fire die so easily in Scott.
She'd expect determination in him, especially since it's early days. Lydia doesn't know how she's supposed be optimistic when Scott's not. It's not like her and Malia are ever the hopeful ones, they leave it up to the boys because they always know where to find to hope.
"Scotty," Stiles says. "When have we ever found anyone dead?" He gives him a quizzical look. "Let me rephrase, when have we ever found anyone we cared about dead?"
Scott shrugs.
There's a long list for that one, how many people have they found dead? How many people have they watched die while they so helplessly watched? Lydia thinks about piping up, but keeps her mouth shut because if anyone is going to give Scott hope, it's Stiles.
"Exactly, Deaton isn't dead and we aren't going to find him dead." Stiles tells Scott, like he's really sure.
She thinks Scott believes it because he doesn't protest to what he says, just allows Stiles to pull him under his arm. Lydia feels a pang in her chest when she remembers the way Allison used to do that with her.
Although Lydia is unsure if Monroe will keep Deaton alive, if she has him that is. But Lydia believes in Stiles, always has, and she's sure that Stiles would lie to Scott about it. So she trusts him and holds onto it.
