He woke to the sound of his phone ringing in his ear. Well, he thought, at least now I know that I can sleep still. It was 6am and the sun was just starting to rise. He quickly answered the phone, his voice groggy, "hello?"
"Stiles?" Melissa McCall's voice rang through on the other end.
"Hi, Melissa, sorry I was asleep," he wondered if she had noticed just how early it was. She was always on nurse brain, never realizing that other people had more regular sleep schedules.
"I got a call from Lydia pretty late last night, I can't seem to reach her now. Have you heard from her? Is everything alright?" Her voice dripped in worry. Surely her motherly instincts were kicking in. He was surprised she wasn't kicking his door down, rather than this simple call.
"Yeah, uh, we were drunk, sorry," he said, his voice surprisingly convincing. He had never been a very good liar—maybe it was another vampire thing.
"I see," her tone was a mixture of humor and judgement, something only a mother could accomplish.
"Sorry about that," Stiles apologized sincerely. He wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to admit how scared he was, he wanted her to fix everything. But he knew he shouldn't, and she couldn't. Scott would be the first one he tells, he decided.
"Well, I gotta get to work, sweetheart," Melissa sounded regretful that she couldn't stay on the line longer with the boy who was like a second son to her.
"No problem, Melissa, I'll call you soon, okay?"
"Okay, have a good day."
"You too," he said softly before hanging up, his eyes drifting to the tiny frame of his favorite strawberry blonde standing in the doorway to his bedroom. She looked disheveled, parts of her still speckled in blood, which was now dried and crusted onto her pearly skin. Stiles stood and found himself in front of her in what must have been one hundredth of a second. He imagined that she must have seen nothing but a blur. She wobbled as he appeared in front of her, catching her off guard. His hands carefully gripped her shoulders, steadying her.
"Hi," he said quietly. He sounded distant, ashamed.
"Hi," she whispered.
"How are you?" They both said at the same time. Each greeting the other with a look that said 'How am I? Are you kidding?'
Stiles stayed silent, waiting for Lydia's answer.
"Honestly?" she questioned. He nods, demonstrating that he would take whatever she threw at him. "Kinda sore, tired." She shrugged, as if it was no big deal that he had almost killed her the night before.
"You should eat something." He had yet to meet her eyes since approaching her. He sped to the kitchen and began preparing her favorite pancakes from the special organic pancake mix he had bought especially for her visit. He'd had such a specific plan for how their week together was supposed to go, and it so quickly exploded in his face. Lydia followed him and took a seat at the breakfast bar, watching him zip around the tiny kitchen.
"Could I get a glass of wa-" before she could finish the thought it was in front of her. "That's gonna take some getting used to…" she chuckled.
Stiles couldn't believe how okay she seemed to be with the whole situation. He supposed the supernatural was nothing new to either of them, but a vampire was a whole different ball game from anything they'd dealt with. Within minutes the pancakes were finished and he had placed them in front of her, along with a glass of orange juice.
"Thanks, this looks great," she said softly, as if trying not to set him off. She took a bite, it was great. Stiles had always been a good cook, but she wondered if the vampirism had somehow further enhanced that talent.
"Coffee," Stiles said anxiously.
"What?" She watched as he paced the kitchen, returning to a normal speed. He began opening cabinets and drawers, searching.
"You need coffee, I don't drink it, I don't have any, I'm gonna go get you some," Stiles was moving a mile a minute, both physically and mentally. Before he could rush away, Lydia somehow managed to grab hold of his arm. He stopped his anxious rant when he felt a warm and silky smooth hand take his arm gently. It was then that their eyes finally met. Her emerald green meeting his crimson red. The two colors complemented each other perfectly. She took his hands and pulled him closer to her, forcing him to sit at the stool next to her. Their eyes holding each other the entire time. She did not look scared, he observed. She didn't even look unnerved.
"I don't need coffee, Stiles," her voice was level, she was totally comfortable being so close to him. So close to the man who had almost killed her the night before. She didn't see it that way. Rather, she saw it that she sat close to the man she loves, the man that had taken care of her the night before.
Taking his face in her hands she leaned in slowly and pecked his lips. He savored the taste of her lips, which tasted even more delicious than her blood somehow. When he opened his eyes they were a familiar shade of chocolate brown, but only for a second, before they glowed once more a shade of crimson.
"We need to talk about what happened," Lydia admitted, breaking the silence that had so comfortably fallen over them.
Stiles nodded, "but first, finish your food. Also, you should probably get cleaned up." He tugged at her once pale yellow dress that was stained red. "The, uh, blood… it's a little distracting." He could smell it on her, especially now that he was focusing on it. It smelled… not delicious, but good. It smelled like a turkey sandwich, he decided, the kind he would have in his lunch everyday in middle school. Not literally, but it enacted the equivalent sensation. It smelled familiar, stale, boring. Nothing like the smell of Lydia's fresh, warm blood that he had sipped last night.
"Oh, yeah, of course, sorry." Lydia took another bite of her pancakes, which looked absolutely unappetizing to Stiles. He sat and watched as she took each bite. He mused over how adorable she looked, even when doing something as simple as eating. There was nothing more that he wanted than to kiss her. Well, there was one thing, and that was to take her, right then and there. On the kitchen counter. The thought surprised him, he would have blushed, but he wasn't sure if his body was even capable of doing such a thing. So I guess vampire Stiles is extra horny, he thought. Not that he didn't often think about sex with Lydia, but he usually wasn't so graphic about it in his head.
Lydia finished her food and stood, gathering her dishes and rinsing them before placing them in the dishwasher and turning back to Stiles. "So… you wanna help me get cleaned up? I'm still pretty weak. I don't know if I could stand for very long in the shower... Help me?" She suggested innocently, though her eyes told a seductive story. She surprised even herself with this, wondering if it was residual sex drive leftover from the pleasure she had felt when Stiles had drank from her. It had felt amazing, like her body was in flames. A not so tiny part of her mind hoped that he might do it again.
"I don't think that's such a good idea, Lyds." Stiles turned away from her, knowing that if she persisted he may not be able to refuse. Lydia nodded and tiptoed behind him. She lovingly placed a hand on his arm and pecked his cheek, then retreated back into the bedroom.
Lydia calmly collected herself, pulling off her bloodied, and surely ruined, clothes and throwing them in the hamper where she saw that Stiles had disposed of his own bloodied garments.
Stiles sat on the couch as he heard each and every rustle of fabric as Lydia removed her clothing in the other room. Damn these new senses, he thought. He tried his best not to imagine her naked figure. His attention was then caught by the beam of light that filtered in through the window to the side of the couch, illuminating a few panels of honey colored wood on the floor. He wondered if that myth was true, the one about burning in the sun. He supposed there was only one way to find out.
Lydia stripped the bed while she was at it, and carried the laundry basket out into the living room where Stiles sat, staring at the floor. His eyes raised when he heard her petite footsteps. He sucked in a deep breath when he saw that she stood naked, with nothing but the huge laundry basket full of bloodied fabrics to cover her form.
"Mind if I throw in a load?" She smirked as she saw the shock on his face. His eyes appeared to glow an even deeper red, and in seconds he appeared in front of her.
"Lydia," he said through clenched teeth. As if it was taking all of his energy to restrain himself. "Go take a shower," his voice was silky, it chilled her spine, reminding her of the man from the night before. He took the laundry basket from her and was surprised when she disappeared back into the room without a question. Moments later he heard the shower running. He hadn't noticed that he walked directly through the beam of sunlight. No burning, no fire.
"Good to know."