First of all, sorry for the late update. I got stuck within the dark abyss that is the author's block and had been trying to thaw my way out of it by doing prompts challenge. So far, I am only successful with only one of the prompts, which is Thor x Stiles. I don't know why the pairing appealed to me so much. You guys can go check it out later.
And second of all, *uncontrollable fits of hyperactive giggle* OMG I REACHED 10K+ HITS WITH THIS FIC! You guys are awesome and I love you guys for all of the support you had given me. I never thought I would go this far with this idea when I first decided to post it.
Anyway, sorry for this late update and also thank you to everyone who had commented, kudoed, bookmarked and subcribed my fics, I totally love receiving all of your response to my work!
He woke up to the sensation of being shaken and his previously closed eyelids snapped open to blearily gaze at the concerned face of his hovering uncle. He blinked a couple of times to clear his vision and shifted away from the position he had fallen asleep in, leaning against the window of the car. Wincing at the throb of pain from his sore neck, he ran an absent-minded hand over it to massage away the crick that had formed there.
Stiles was not surprised he had fallen asleep on the ride back from the hospital. He had been barely able to get enough sleep as it is during the night, always being jolted awake by the nightmare that continued to haunt him during his moment of vulnerable unconsciousness.
The longest sleep he had got after the death of his father was when he was held by both Clint and Natasha and that was four days ago. He longed to be held by them again, knowing full well that their presence at his sides would help to keep the nightly terror at bay but he does not want to burden them anymore than he already did.
It had been a long time since he had last seen them after all and he does not know if they would still be willing to do it like how they often do it during his childhood days. Besides, he is already a teenager for fuck's sake, he is supposed to be able to be in control of his shits and not depend on people.
So he had kept quiet about his nightmare and lack of sleep, even if he is sure that the three adults could see the signs of sleep deprivation lingering on his face. The bags under his eyes grew darker at each passing day and his skin took on a more of a sickly shade of pallor from the many hours he spent cooped up in his room with the curtains drawn shut.
He had been unable to return to sleep after being awaken by the nightmare and this often caused him to fall asleep at odd time and places when the lack of sleep finally caught up with him before being awaken by another wave of soul crushing terror and a silent scream stuck in his throat. He had tried to stay awake by consuming mug after mug of highly caffeinated coffee but the sleep always managed to slip up on him with the sweet promise of oblivion.
He only felt bone deep exhaustion each time he woke up from one of those sleeps and he felt far more drained than he was before he fell asleep. Trying to stay awake become a struggle as the days goes by and he was sure that he looked like a walking corpse to those around him.
But he could not fall asleep, not when he could feel the darkness within him threaten to make a reappearance if he were to even momentarily let go of his control over his conscious mind. Stiles knew the Nogitsune never truly left him like how all of his friends thought it would. The ancient fox spirit is still there, the residue of its essence lurking at the back of his mind like a constant presence that whispered sweet nothing in his ears.
He could feel it, the sickly-sweet temptation of power simmering beneath his skin, tempting and luring him in with the promise of infinite power.
Power that he could have if he just let go.
If he just gives into the fox's enticement.
The Nogitsune had given him a taste of it when he struck Donovan with the wrench and a part deep in him crave for the heady flavor of the power he had tasted. And the worst part is, he wants to have it.
He wants it.
He wants the power.
He wants it for the promise it holds.
He wants it so that he would not be so hapless and helpless anymore.
Stiles had quickly wrenched himself away from that line of thought because he never wanted to relieve the experience he had went through when he was under the crazed fox's influence. Once was more than enough and he does not want to lose anyone else to it ever again.
Allison and Aiden were enough as it is and so does the death of countless many other people whom had fallen prey to the Nogitsune's scheme.
His hands already have enough blood on it to last him a lifetime of nightmare and he does not want to add up to it if he could help it. Not when the last blood belonged to his own father.
Losing his dad to Theo had very nearly crippled him and he would have definitely given into the Nogitsune's lure if his uncle had not returned for him. He would have given into the darkness that had been festering beneath his skin if his uncle had not appeared with the supports he desperately need.
He shuddered to think just how easily it would have been to just give in, to let go of everything and let the Nogitsune take the rein of control to his body again.
Only destruction and chaos awaits.
"Stiles, we're back already. Why don't you go in first, I will take care of the things at the back?"
He bobbed his head in absent minded acquiescence and missed the worried look that marred his uncle's face as he slipped out from the car.
The trip to the hospital had left him bereft and it reminded him too much of the fact that his father had died there.
Both of his parents had.
Though seeing Melissa again helped to ease away the dark memories that threaten to consume him whole and she being there for his checkup had distracted him away from the thoughts of the world beyond the whitewashed walls of the hospital room.
Stiles did not miss the way she talked around the topic of his father's death but he was just too glad to talk with someone who would not rub the reminder in his face when they offered their condolence to him. She asked him on his school plan after he transferred to New York and countless other small topics as she all the while completely steered him away from anything that would bring up the name of her son.
And Stiles loves her more than anything for that.
Melissa had always been a perspective woman to begin with and being a nurse as well as a single mother had ingrained the instinct of looking out for small details into her along the years ago. She was the woman that he had always wanted to be his mother upon his birthmother's death and he and Scott used to talk about it well into the night of their sleepover.
His heart ached at the thought of Scott, the sting of betrayal too fresh for him to think about his brother from another mother in anything other than what his grief addled mind wanted for him to think Scott as. He wanted to blame Scott for all of this because none of it would have happened if Scott had simply believed him about Theo, because it would have been so easy to do so but Stiles knew, oh he knew it very well, he knew that he himself is not completely blameless too.
He too had been fooled by Theo's scheme and his dad had paid the ultimate price for his foolishness. Theo had come after him for the darkness that both of them knew existed in him and it is because of him that Theo had went after his father, whom had been the only thing that kept the darkness at bay.
The death of his father had caused him to be stripped bare from the more often than not ambiguous moral that he used to have and Stiles is not sure that he would be able to be the same bright eyed law enforcement that his father had wished for him to be.
Entering the house of his childhood home, Stiles went straight to the stairs but the sound of a very much familiar voice had him stopping in his track. His sleep depraved brain did not have to put much in effort in putting a name to that voice because he would always recognize that voice no matter what state he is in.
Lydia.
That was Lydia's voice.
Stiles did not spend nearly a decade crushing on someone for nothing after all.
He stood there, silently contemplating his choice at hand. He knew the confrontation between him and Lydia is inevitable, something that he could not avoid forever because Lydia would never allow for him to get off the hook that easily but Stiles does not think he was prepared to see Lydia again so soon after the funeral.
He had feebly hoped that she would not drop by until he was at least on the way to New York but it looks like that choice was taken out of his hand because Lydia is already here, in the house that they would have shared and spend the rest of their life together in if their parents had married before his father's death.
Stiles chewed on the inside of his cheeks as he tuned into the conversation between Lydia and Clint, he could not help but be curious because he had fully expected for Lydia to meet with Natasha first before meeting Clint.
"-hen I dragged him to the mall to get some new clothes because I would not be having a brother who dressed like a slob. I will never understand Stiles' adoration for plaid. Its existence itself is a crime against fashion."
A pang of bittersweet sadness hit him upon hearing it because he fully remembered that day. It was the day that his dad had pulled him aside to ask him about his opinion on Natalie and Stiles had assured his dad more than once that he was fine with her and would be totally happy for him if he decided to propose to her any time soon. Stiles had immediately called Lydia after that and like the good soon to be sister she is, Lydia had decided it is the right time to make a complete overhaul of his whole wardrobe. They spent hours at the mall just to let their parents have the time together and his dad found it hilarious that he was made into Ken doll by his soon to be sister.
That was about a month ago, and Stiles know that dream will never be fulfilled because the ring that his dad had bought is still in the velvet box in his bedside table drawer and not on Natalie's ring finger. His dad never got the chance to propose to Lydia's mother and he would never have that chance again because his luck had run out during his encounter with the chimera.
Now, he will never gain the mother and sister he had fervently wished to have and he had lost his dad before they could even become the family they all had wanted to be.
Shaking his head to banish away that thought, he decided that he had delayed the inevitable long enough. Besides, it is better that he deals with it when the wound is still fresh because he really does not want it to be left to fester.
Better rip off the bands aid now than slowly peeling it away through the festered emotions.
Stepping into the doorway of the kitchen, his eyes met with Clint and his adoptive uncle smiled in acknowledgement over Lydia's head. Stiles felt his breath stuck in his throat at the sight of the red hair that cascade down to the petite waist in rivulet of glossy strands. Lydia's back is to him and Stiles is glad for this short moment of reprieve because he is not yet ready to see the apple green eyes that he had spent years waxing poetic about.
He is not prepared to face the accusation and hate that had been in it in his dream, the loathing and anger for causing the death of the man whom would have brought their family together if he was given the chance to do so.
Though he was only given a few second of reprieve to fortify himself because Lydia is already turning around to face him.
His heart stuttered at the sight of her smile, gentle and genuine in a way that Lydia would have never allowed the public to see but he have had months to get used to it. The two years younger him would have been more than just elated to be at the receiving end of it but the current him felt his heart breaking because he knew what a rarity that smile had become nowadays and now would been an even rarer sight to see because they both had lost the reason to smile.
"Stiles."
"Hey there Lyds."
He tried to smile, he really did but it was as if the muscles of his face forgot how to form a smile and his attempt at smiling ended up being a weak grimace. Their eyes met and he could see understanding shining in those pools of green orbs.
Stiles both loves and hates seeing it.
He was glad that she understands but hate the things that made her understood his situation, no one should be in the place where they understood his lost. Stiles would never wish it upon any of his friends and definitely not on Lydia.
Lydia vacated her seat at the island to close the distance between them and Stiles remained stock still at where he stands despite his very instinct screamed at him to run, to hide from her.
It is too soon.
He is not ready.
He cannot do this.
He can-
"Stop thinking Stiles. I can hear your brain going overdrive from here."
Her voice was light despite the shadow of sadness clouding her eyes and her palm was soft against his cheek. He was so out of it that he had missed Lydia stepping into his space but he did not shy away from her touch, he craves for her warmth just as much as he feared her cold hatred.
Stiles averted his gaze but Lydia would have none of that because she forcefully but at the same time, gently, make him look at her again with the hand she already has on his cheek.
"Look at me."
He did and the enchanting green of her eyes became the central focus of his attention, tunneling his vision to focus solely on her eyes. This is the eyes that he had spent years trying to find the right word to describe the vivid shade of and right now, this pair of eyes is gazing back at him with compassion that made his heart ache.
"You still got me."
Stiles visibly flinched at the word, as if Lydia had slapped him instead of gently caressing his face. That sentence will forever haunt him and Lydia understood why. She is after all the only person he had ever confided in with his fear of losing his loved one and also his history with that sentence.
And he felt hurt that Lydia would use that fear against him.
"Don't look at me like that Stiles. You still got me and I am not going anywhere. I go wherever you go. Don't ever think you're ditching me for New York."
The corner of her red painted lips twitched up in the shadow of a smile that she forced onto herself, trying to lighten up the somber mood between them and Stiles mirrored that half smile. Sometime he wondered if they had ever spent the last decade ignoring each other from the different end of social spectrums.
Because Lydia will always understand the things that he had yet to speak, always see things about himself that even he missed and hear the hidden messages in between the lines that he had spoken.
Not even a decade of separation can change that part of her.
"Alright you two lovebirds, I know for a fact that there's plenty of rooms upstairs. Now I know what it feels like to be the sore thumb who stepped into the intense moment between me and Nat. Shoo. Off you go. Keep it PG because my teeth are already rotting from the fluff."
Clint's amused voice cut through the tension between them and Stiles finally realized just how intimate the two of them must have looked like this, with his arms around her waist and hers around his neck while cradling his face with one of her hand. They looked like two lovers who had just been reunited but to Stiles, it is not different because Lydia had always been his soulmate, the other half of his soul even if their relationship is a platonic one.
His eyes met with Clint's and he sees only sorrow in those pools of blue despite the amusement in his voice. Clint smiled a brittle encouraging smile and Stiles nodded his head in thanks.
"You heard the man. Now if you would follow me my lady, I will lead you to my chamber."
Lydia snorted, completely shattering the subdued air that had been around her and Stiles could not help but grin slightly despite himself.
"You're being ridiculous but lead the way mortal."
She sniffed derisively, playing along with his charade as she flicked a loose strand of her hair over her shoulder. Her gaze was steely and she looked very much commanding like this, like the regal queen Stiles suspect her to be in her past lives.
Offering his arm to her, Stiles waited for her to wrap her daintily hand around his bicep before whisking her away from the kitchen with a playful two fingered salute at his exasperated uncle. He leads her up the familiar step to his room and did not say anything when her grip tightened upon their arrival to the second floor of the house. He just stopped in his track and allowed for her to recompose herself in silence.
Stiles himself was no better than her but he has had days to come to term with it, to accept the fact that they both had lost their father.
The hallway of the second floor was full of pictures, all of it belonging to both him and Lydia and they were hung side by side like it had been like that right from the start. There were even pictures of his mother amongst the mix and Stiles loves Natalie Martin all the more because of that. The Martin matriarch had been so understanding of his and his father's unwillingness to let go of his mother and she had even hung back some of the photos of her that both he and his dad had taken down after her death.
Like mother and like daughter, both of the Martin women are just so understanding of them, the men of the Stilinski.
And there were also the recently taken one amongst the cluster of old memories, photos of them together during their 'family outing' like what his father had so fondly said when he reminiscent about it. Each holding the smiling images of the happiness that they portrayed.
"He's gone."
Stiles felt his heart sink at that but choose not to say anything because he knew Lydia need this, she need to be able to accept this truth so that she could continue of walking. He resorts to pulling her close to his side in a one-armed hug in a show of silent support for her.
"He's really gone. Dad is gone Stiles. I felt it."
He only held her close when her voice wavered, becoming choked off with the sob that wrecked her body. Stiles knew it had been worse for Lydia because of her supernatural ability. She knew all along that their father would not make it out alive and the worst part is, there was nothing she could do to change that.
And she had felt it as much as she saw him breath out his final breath. She had been hearing the premonition being whispered in her ears for hours and knew the moment had come when the hushed whispers become shrill wails.
"I know Lyds. I know."
He whispered into her hair and fully recuperated the full body hug she threw his way. Stiles held her tightly as she sobbed into his shoulders and could not help but wonder how Natalie was dealing with this.
The two of them might have started off on the wrong foot when he and Lydia tried to mend back their friendship during the start of the whole supernatural clusterfuck but Stiles had come to care about her as much as he did Melissa, someone who is like a second mother to him after his mother's death and she would have been his very own stepmother if his dad had managed to marry her before his death.
He made a mental note to go visit her sometime in the future before leaving Beacon Hills. He will not be losing any more family, even if they did not get to officiate it.
"Come on, I still have that roll of tissues from before and also your emergency make up back in my drawer. Mom had a fit when she found that in my wardrobe."
His voice was as tight as his chest but he does not allow for the emotions to overwhelm him. Lydia needs him. She needs him to be strong so that she could crumble down with grief and accept this bitter truth. And Stiles will be strong for her because he would do anything for the people he loves, for his family.
With that said, he somewhat carried her to his room, all the while never breaking the hug they had encased themselves into.
Boxes pilled in one corner of his room and his stuffs was in a mess of chaotic shambles because he had been trying to decide what he should bring with him and what he should leave behind since he managed to convince his uncle to hold onto the house for a while longer.
And the sight of those boxes had Lydia tightening her arms around him.
Stiles sighed softly and wordlessly coaxed her to lie down on the rumpled sheet of his bed, which he soon joined her on because it looks like she would not be releasing him anytime soon, if the death grip she had on his shirt was any indication.
They both laid in his bed in silence, body pressed close with their nose brushing occasionally. The younger him would be having an aneurysm by this point because having Lydia Martin in their bed used to be their once upon a time dream. But right now, Stiles only felt contentment as they shared the comforting warmth of each other's presence.
"You're leaving."
He hummed a noncommittal hum at the statement and choose to wipe away the smudged-up mascara on Lydia's face than responding to her unspoken plea. His fingers were gentle as he swiped away at the stain and he silently noted the dark rings around her eyes, which he was pretty much sure was not her eyeliners.
"Mom said I can go with you. She specifically said it is high time we get out from this Hellmouth and I am blaming you on her Buffy reference."
Their eyes met in a furtive glance and they both snorted at the same time, the hapless giggle that followed after could not be avoided.
Stiles had made it his mission to get their parents up to date with the supernatural lore and had used many supernatural TV series as a cross reference to his very much detailed explanation. It is not his fault that Natalie got hooked on the vampires.
To be fair, Twilight got nothing on Buffy.
"Buffy is awesome, though TVD is more awesome."
"I concur. It helps that the casts were quite easy on the eyes."
"At least they don't sparkle."
"It's their charm Stiles."
"Sparkling vampire Lyds, which part of that doesn't sound disturbing to you? It's basically making their stalking ability null because they sparkled in the shadow. You can't be the creepy night crawler while being a sexy ass that sparkles. That totally doesn't go hand in hand."
"Cheesy romance. They always twist things with their illogical romanced myth."
"If only they know how freaking fugly real vampires are."
"Hush you. Let people dream."
"Not gonna happen."
Their light banter filtered out to a comfortable silence that had become a norm between them and Stiles silently noted that the tight grip Lydia had on his shirt had relaxed considerably as she toyed with the loose strand of his shirt instead of clutching it like a lifeline.
"Mom is seriously letting you come to New York with me?"
Stiles could not help but ask because he is feeling hopeful. Yes, he wanted nothing more than to leave everything behind and run away from it but he would never sever the ties with family, not when he only has a handful to begin with.
Besides, it would be easier to have Lydia with him. He does not think he would be able to keep himself afloat in the chaotic sea that is New York alone whilst dealing with the grief and lost.
"Yes you oaf. I didn't just say it to make you feel better. I totally meant it and mom would come with us too by the way. We already have a house there courtesy of my sperm donor and you're very much welcomed there. I am not letting you go to NY on your own."
Something unraveled in his chest and the tightness that had been choking him eased away as he sagged against her pliant body.
So he will still have them.
He would not lose them.
Good.
That is good.
"Thanks."
He enveloped her in a crushing hug, desperation and relief crashing against each other as he clung to her. She returned his embrace with equal fervor and their body were wound so tightly around each other that onlookers would not be able to discern which limbs belongs to whom.
"That's what family for."
Eyes softening at the endearing sight of the two teenagers curled around each other, Phil slowly closed the door shut. He had gone up to call them down for dinner but from the look of it, he decided it is better to leave the two siblings be.
Besides, it is the most relaxed he had seen his nephew been after the funeral and he would never take that away from him, and perhaps, Stiles would be able to catch up some hours of undisturbed sleep with the girl by his side.
He went back downstairs with the mask of grim determination sliding back into place. Natasha had returned with quite the worrying info from the Beacon Hill Police Department network and Phil is determined to hack his way through it until he reached the bottom of it.
He would not rest until he finally unearthed the truth behind John's death and drag the killer to justice. That is the vow he had made to both his sister and John after he went back to visit their graves.
I hope you guys liked it because the platonic Stydia bunny had booted my rational mind off of the high pedestal. I swear I am possessed by something when I start to write because that is not how my mind usually worked. Whoever and whatever that is possessing me is very much adamant in making this fic as dark as possible.
You guys can go challenge me at
(http:)/( .com)/(post/156575672958/2017-prompts-challenge)
Just remove all of the "(" and ")"
Help me melt away the frozen ice chunk that my brain had thrown itself into in its attempt to get close to Capsicle. Though the universe I am writing for is only : Teen Wolf and Marvel, though the later one is more to the Avengers and Thor, with hints of Agent of Shield (which I finally get to watching once I know where to find it)
Anyway, as usual, leave a review on the way out! I love receiving them and hopefully I would still be alive for the next update. The courseworks had been handed out and I might have my hands full with them but I will try to make some time on my works!
Toodles~ 3
