A/N: Last chapter before the epilogue! Thank you for reading, I hope you'll enjoy the end of our journey :)
After all of this, we made it, and I will close my eyes
This night knowing, I kept the very first promise
I ever made you.
- Tyler Knott Gregson -
Lydia can't sleep.
It has become a habit these last few days, and when she glances at their alarm clock, she isn't surprised to see that it has only been two minutes since last time she checked. 4.46 AM… She sighs, shutting her eyes to block the streetlight outside, but it's not enough and she needs to cover them with her forearm to be in the complete darkness. It feels good for a few seconds. She needs to remember that this is their first night here, in their new house, that soon, they'll buy thicker curtains and that even if it's not a big one, they can move their bed to one of the two other rooms.
Some time passes, and she wakes again. 4.55 AM… Maybe she should try Kira's advice – warm milk infused with chamomile and a spoonful of honey.
But she is afraid to move and wake Stiles.
She peeks at him from under her elbow. He is snoring lightly, his head buried in his pillow and his mind probably wandering into some deep dream. His fingers on the pillowcase are faintly twitching, lightly strumming on the strings of her heart. She hears every note, each of them expanding the heavy beating of her heart. Endearment, adoration, love… It creates a yearning in her, shapes a smile on her lips. Faced with such glow, the streetlight can only pale away until all Lydia sees is him.
Him and his aura… Her eternal Sun, the love of her life, the one she will never abandon because he is part of her, and she is part of him. As far as she can remember, this is the first promise they made to each other.
We'll heal together. I'll never leave you.
She can't sleep, but she loves him.
She loves their house and every problem that will stand in the way of their night. She already loves the conversations they will have about those useless curtains, about that ugly painting in the living room, about furniture, about who gets the right sink in the bathroom and how to tidy up the kitchen. All those things she used to hate when she had to move in a new place… All of them. She loves them too because they outline the steps that she and Stiles will take together to make a home out of this house. If something so beautiful can emerge from a few sleepless nights, so be it.
She loves their problems.
She already loves solving them with him, and if she could, she would wake him up to start right now. Nothing scares her anymore. She can't wait to continue their journey.
But they need to sleep.
She turns on her back, trying to close her eyes again… She feels restless. Her blood pulses too strong in her veins for her to stay still, and her mind wanders in the direction she has tried to avoid ever since they went to bed.
Just thinking about it ignites something more in her, it tugs deliciously in her stomach and sends throbs all the way down to the tip of her toes and through her chest and to her mouth.
The day they went looking for a new mailbox, an idea took root in the morrow of her bones. That was five days ago, and it won't leave her. If she is honest with herself, it's not like she tried to make it go away... It keeps growing, and she relishes in the sensations it creates in her body. She can feel it – its branches and leaves… tickling all those butterflies in her stomach. The ones awaking whenever they sense him near.
Stiles… The love of her life. The one who keeps proving to her that what they say is a lie because a love like the one they share never dies, never fades.
But Lydia doesn't know how to ask him. It's not like she has any doubt about his answer, or that it feels like something too big. It's simply that she physically doesn't know how. She almost did it right in the store, but her body rebelled against her. Something had stirred in her, the air escaped her lungs, and her cheeks stole all the blood in her body.
Stiles has been delightfully clueless about it. A part of Lydia wishes he had seen her, teased her until she would have spitted it out, but the other part of her is glad he hasn't. It's often difficult to surprise him. He is always so attentive about everything, caring… Knowing she can surprise him with this makes it even more special.
He moans faintly in his sleep, and Lydia wants nothing more than join him in his dream, find a way to squeeze in between his arms.
She can't wake him up. They have so many things to do in the morning… So, she gingerly inches closer to him, feeling the ghost of his kiss. She shouldn't have done that because he moans again, and his breath is warm, and it spreads tingles all over her skin and through her veins. He can feel her, she knows it because he holds his breath, unconsciously waiting for her kiss. She answers his silent plea, faintly brushing her lips over his as she props herself up on her elbows, lying on her stomach next to him.
"Ah...gain…" she hears him mumble, his body already stirring to make more room for her. It makes her laugh fondly in the quiet darkness. She does it again, and again, giving her kisses a little more pressure every time she feels his lips seeking hers until he lies fully awake on his back.
"I'm sorry," she whispers when he opens his eyes and runs his hand through her hair. "I didn't want to wake you."
"Can't say I hate being woken up like this… What time is it?"
She winces and hides her face against his shoulder. "Almost 5…"
"You still can't sleep, huh?"
She shakes her head, already feeling better now that he is with her, his hand massaging her skull and neck, his body enveloping her and taking her with him in his sleepiness.
"You wanna try that thing Kira told you about with the milk?"
"I was actually considering the idea..."
His hand runs over her shoulder and around her neck, coaxing her to straighten it up,
"But I was afraid to wake you up by getting out of bed."
The light of a car outside glides over his face, and she sees him smirk. "Oh, I see… So, you decided to kiss me instead."
"Are you complaining now?" She wants to sound cajoling, but she saw adoration fluttering on his face in the passing light, and she knows she failed.
"I'm really not."
From the tip of his fingers, he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear before outlining her cheek so slowly she thinks she could burst out of love. Her lips find his wrist, and she breathes him in.
"I'm sorry, I just… You were so adorable, and you held your breath."
"I must have been dreaming of you…"
It's when he tells her things like that, when that cracked tone of his voice carries each syllable to her and she feels them slowly work their way from her stomach to the corners of her lips… That's when she knows... Their love is eternal because it can be reborn without ever having to die.
As an answer, she plants kisses all the way down to his elbow until she can nuzzle up in the crook of his arm. All she can do is give a voice to the throbs in her body by exhaling his name. He drapes her body with caresses and strokes, the darkness giving in contrast to each of his touches more weight, more intent.
"Come on," he eventually rasps. "I'll make you that milk thing."
He is about to sit up, delicately untangling from her when she catches the collar of his shirt. "No, go back to sleep. It's fine… I'll try not to wake you when I come back."
"Lyds…" He coaxes her fist to loosen and laces their fingers with so much tenderness she can't move, hypnotized by his touch and his voice, still sleepy, but already filled with care. "You've had insomnia for a few days now, and I always find out in the morning, when I can't do anything about it. Let me help… Please?"
She can't resist him, and she doesn't even want to try. "Okay."
He gets out of bed, and she follows him before the cold has a chance to take his place under the sheets. The hallway is still unknown, and she walks with her arms outstretched in the dark, letting the sound of his footsteps guide her and breathing to tame her beating heart.
"Stiles, you okay?" she worries when she doesn't hear him anymore.
"Yeah, I'm just looking for the light…" She feels the frame of the kitchen door under her fingers and all of a sudden, the soft light coming from the range hood envelops them.
Stiles is already rummaging for a pan in their unopened boxes, and anticipation is tying knots in Lydia's stomach. In an attempt to distract herself, she takes the room in from her spot. Only unopened boxes everywhere and the table the owners left for them. The first thing they did was put a picture on the fridge, and Lydia finds herself drawn to it. They took it when they visited Kira at the maternity ward after she gave birth to Grace, almost a month ago.
They are all there, happy, hugging… The new family and Melissa along with Stiles and herself… She remembers Scott calling at six in the morning, his endearing frenzied tone when he announced that he was driving Kira to the hospital. They all went to visit her two days later.
She knows Melissa has a copy of that same photo in her guest bedroom on the exact same wall that had intimidated Lydia on their first night in Beacon Hills. Now, she is part of it, part of that family and that simple thought gives her question all of its meaning.
"Our first family picture…" Stiles's voice startles her. He drops a kiss in her hair as he makes his way to the stove with the jar of chamomile, letting his hand follow the curve of her waist.
For a while, she observes him scrupulously plunging the dried flowers into the milk, one by one, soothing scent immediately filling the entire room. Then she watches him stir the milk clockwise, counterclockwise…
The faint light above him perfectly outlines the structure of his face, his nose, his chin, his cheekbones, creating the kind of atmosphere where every sound needs to be muffled and bodies need to be as near as possible to not disturb the silence of those stolen hours. Everything seems set up to offer the ideal frame for her sleepless confession, and it awakens exhilaration in her lungs again until it reaches her lips in a grin she can't contain.
It's now or never.
She moves to rest her cheek against his shoulder, wrapping one hand around his bicep and adding a few more flowers to the milk. "The first one from many…" she utters.
Stiles hums a low mmh, and Lydia wonders if he can feel her heart pounding against his arm. He keeps stirring the milk and when it reaches the right temperature, he puts the pan aside to let it brew and turns the stove off.
"Why are you so nervous, Lyds?" he murmurs against her hair before planting a kiss there, making her heart swell with undying love for him.
"Because I wanna ask you something, and you're making me incredibly nervous," she confesses in the same hushed tone of voice. She feels his index under her chin, and she meets his gaze, her cheeks suddenly burning up, completely hypnotized by this strength radiating from him. He looks hypnotized too, their eyes pulling on the magnets in their hearts.
"I'm not doing anything."
"Yeah, you are."
"What am I doing?"
"You're… You're looking at me like… like…"
"Like what?"
"Like this… And all I think about is how much I love you, how much I want to kiss you, and I forget about my question."
Stiles lips curl up in a half-smile, and it's all it takes for Lydia to focus her attention on them. It feels like a daydream when Stiles reacts immediately, connecting their mouths in a gentle kiss and letting it linger over her lips until he can plant another kiss on her nose.
"What question?" he asks on his way back to her mouth in a breathless voice that turns every consonant into a promise, every vowel into a caress.
She gulps slowly after he kisses her again, leaning her forehead against his collarbone and waiting for his arms to engulf her and steady the whirling sensation his affection has created in her head.
"There's something I would like you to give me," she confides.
"What is it?"
She feels him step backwards until they reach the countertop, and she lets her body sag in the cradle of his.
"You know I'll give you anything." His fingers in her back trace random patterns over her pajama shirt and in those blissful heartbeats, the question forms in her head. She lets it out in an exhale, lifting her head to him on her first word.
"Your name… Would you give me your name?"
It takes him a few seconds to understand what she is saying, and she sees everything in his gorgeous brown eyes.
"M—My name?"
"Yeah, your name…" she nods, finding strength in the glow his palms diffuse into the small of her back.
He is still speechless, and his gaze steals the rest of her words. She leans her forearms on his chest following the movement induced by his hands when they run along her side to nest around her cheeks. Her heart is pounding in her chest, and she can feel his do the same thing.
"Lyds…" It's barely a word, more an exhale that tickle the skin below her nose. It sweeps away a few strands of her hair that were clinging to her lips, and she had no idea a simple nod from him would make her heart burst like that. "Yes, yes of course, my love… Of course, I'll give you my name." Tears are accumulating behind her eyes, and he looks so handsome in this dim light, so emotional and bare that she won't let them hide him from her. "If I had known you wanted to spend the rest of your life spelling the name Stilinski, I would have asked you myself."
They both let out light chuckling notes and their lips don't need more guidance to find each other.
"I can't give you a fancy ring, but I can give you my name," he voices in between kisses and hauling her up in his arms when she rises on her tiptoes to sit on the countertop behind him.
With her arms around his neck, she looks at him and shakes her head. "I don't care about a ring anyway, I just want your name…" She watches her words mingle with the love in his eyes, making them glisten until he needs to blink. Gently, she wipes his tears and guides his head into the crook of her neck, running her hand in his soft hair and down his nape. "That's all I want, Stiles. To share your name…" She can feel him catching his breath, and she takes his hand from her thigh to lace their fingers. "To share everything… Stilinski written on our mailbox. Like a real family…"
Her emotions almost swallow her last word and Stiles straightens up, bringing her hand to his lips.
"I'll give you everything I can, Lyds. It's all yours anyway. I just… I don't have a lot, you know that—"
"That's not true. You gave me everything, more than I could have ever wished for."
"I said I would take you to Norway, but I can't even do that…"
"We'll go to Norway… Just, later, it's alright. We have our entire life."
"We won't have a honeymoon."
"You're my honeymoon…" She wants to kiss him and never stop, but neither of them dares moving, so they keep talking in hushed tones, slowly, because this moment has to stay intact in their memories. "My honeymoon, my honeysun, my honeystars… My honey everything…"
He exhales her name like it's the holiest sound in the universe.
Before his love overwhelms her completely, she adds, "We can always buy bikes and go camping somewhere for a few days, it will be just as perfect."
"Yeah… Yes, we can do that… I'd love that… Just my name, then?"
"Just your name…"
"You um… Wanna ditch everything we have planned tomorrow and go to City Hall to see what we need to do?"
"I'd like that..." She only realizes she is nibbling at her lips when she feels the smooth pressure of his thumb over them, coaxing them to soften.
"Is there something else you wanna ask, Lyds?"
Of course, he would know…
"I was just wondering if... Is there anything you want? Something I can give you?"
After a pause, Stiles bites back his smirk and leans forward to whisper against her ear. "Keep teaching me how to visit you in your dreams." A few memories filter through his voice and cover her body in delicious tingles. He drops a kiss on her temple as her hands find the waistband of his pants. "Lyds, you already give me so much… Every day. I don't need more. And I mean that."
"I know… But we'll keep practicing if it means I can give you more."
Neither of them seems to be able to look away from each other. There is so much more Lydia wants to express, but the throbbing of her own pulse is invading all her senses. Stiles breaks the silence, his nails running up and down her arms doing nothing to help her collect her wits.
"Remember when we met Scott and Kira in Oregon for the first time?"
Lydia nods and grins as the memory plays in her mind. They had gotten lost, and it took them hours to get there because Stiles didn't want to use a map and kept asking her for random directions to follow. They laughed a lot that day.
"That's what I want every day," he confesses. "I want to keep feeling like we can be a little crazy from time to time, make no sense at all together." He lowers his voice, letting his fingers glide down her locks with the same delicacy as his words. "Keep taking random roads, so I can let you guide me, or so I can guide you… Whether we find whatever we're looking for here, or somewhere else doesn't matter. I don't care where I am, Lyds. In all the chaos that has been my life, there's only you... You and the path that led me to you, that brought us together. I have no idea what kind of compass we followed. Even when we could have thought it was misleading us, it was drawing us to each other, and it led us here. I want us to keep following it, you and me. I want to keep walking together. Whatever the path – easy or complicated, I want to keep making decisions with you. I want to be the one who reminds you to follow your instincts...even if it leads us in the opposite direction from our destination… You know, like getting closer to the ocean when we should have driven East…"
Lydia chuckles again at the memory. Stiles's words make hers seem smaller, and she has no idea how to express everything he makes her feel. The awe, the relief, the thrill at the idea of everything awaiting them, the gratefulness at everything that led them here… The love. The love that consumes her with a passion that she never thought could exist, that love that pulled her out of the darkness more than once, and that makes her want to live more, live for centuries. A love she'll never tire expressing.
"Stiles, every time... Every time, you leave me speechless. I always think that's the most beautiful thing you ever said to me, and you always find new ways, new words…"
"You're the most perfect muse, my heart." His eyes seem to catch something in his memories, and she can tell there's something in his mind. "My parents would have loved you, Lyds…so much… I can't help picturing us four having dinner for the first time…"
She stiffens at his confession, his wavering voice awakening an instinct of protection. "Stiles…"
"It's alright, I'm not sad, I promise. I'm just nostalgic… grateful..."
She knows he means it by the way his arms don't shake when they encircle her waist. He has come a long way and she couldn't be prouder of him.
"Good."
"But I was wondering something…" he continues.
"Tell me."
"It's just… Have you thought of your parents? Maybe you want to see them, or contact them now that we're here?"
His question doesn't take her by surprise, she knew it would come up eventually. She thinks of Thanksgiving a few months earlier, of that first time she was overwhelmed by what family means, of her wish to be able to forgive them so she could forget about her pain and anger. She doesn't know how, but she has. It wasn't even her decision, she realizes. She has lived so many things with Stiles in… How long? She can only guess. And now, it's like nothing else happened in her life. Nothing but him, nothing but their life together.
And that's when it hits her. She straightens up in his embrace to peer at him, her hands encircling his biceps. "I don't need them. Not anymore. Stiles, I think I understand."
"What?"
"What you already had. I don't know how long we spent together, I couldn't possibly count how many times we fell asleep in each other's arms. My life before you… It doesn't matter anymore. You're right, its only purpose was to set us on the right path to find each other. I prayed for you, I didn't know it was you, but it was your soul I was calling every night, Stiles. Ten years… I have no idea what it means. It was just…before. And before doesn't matter." She feels breathless and yet, her voice is calm, controlled, a purring in the silence, coated in the mild fragrance of the milk and the music of Stiles's heart. "And you know what? You gave me more memories in our time together than what life gave me in the twenty-something years before I found you."
Her voice wavers at the end of her sentence, and Stiles reacts immediately, slowly connecting their lips to offer her words and emotions some support before leaning against her forehead. It's all Lydia needs to keep going.
"I don't need my parents because the hole they left in my life is gone. The wounds I had…they are all gone. I don't know how. I don't know when. I just know that you came along, I let you in, and you replaced everything. You're my everything, Stiles, and that's why Martin doesn't mean anything to me anymore. That's why I want your name instead. I know you already gave it to me a long time ago because I've felt like a part of your family for a long time. Now, I want the entire world to know. I want people to call me by your name for the rest of eternity."
"God, Lyds… And I'm the one with beautiful speeches?" he tries to sound teasing, dropping a kiss on her cheekbone, but all Lydia hears in his tone is how much he is struggling to contain his emotions to be able to speak. "You did the same for me, you know? Even though I have happier childhood memories, it will always feel like my life began that day in the cemetery, as odd as it may sounds."
They both stare at each other, galvanization running deep in their flesh, carving out more joy to share, more beauty to cherish. Before sleep starts reclaiming their bodies, they let their arms bring each other into a hug – the kind they kept perfecting, the kind that feels like home.
Lydia's eyelids feel like they weigh a ton, their fluttering gradually slowing down.
"We should get some sleep…" Stiles murmurs against her neck, his lips dropping tiny shivers on her skin, and his voice melting into a sleepy tone.
Lydia hums a low yes, but she can already feel Stiles's hand brushing up from her neck to her jaw and she lifts her head, parting her lips to let him kiss her slowly, deeply. They are both panting when they part.
"Where d'you wanna sleep? We can try another room if you think you'll sleep better," he offers.
She shakes her head, "Just in your arms, if that's alright."
His smile glides against her mouth in a nod, and she welcomes his lips again for another sleepy kiss, their tongues stroking each other tenderly and their bodies so tight she can feel the butterflies in his stomach swirling. She massages his sides, losing herself in his affection and when they finally go to bed, they don't even realize the sun in already rising, milk cooling off in the kitchen at the sound of birds stirring in the blue hour.
Four years go by. Four years that feel like so much more than four years from their old lives.
Time goes by differently now. Not in days, weeks, or months, but in love, respect, and promises. In the knowledge that they'll chose each other. Always.
Time isn't cyclic with Stiles. It's not linear either. Instead, it's made out of eternities contained in each second spent together or spent in a shared dream. Real time keeps running, but they know how to escape it.
They escape it in the evening, when they come home from work at the same hour, and it feels like the day has just began because nothing compares to being together, living at the same time, in the same place. Sharing the present.
They don't blame time. It does what it has to do, and it sends them gifts sometimes.
When it puts reading glasses on Lydia's nose for example. Stiles wishes she would wear them all the time because he keeps melting at the way the bridge of her nose seems to frown as if it still wondered what that extra weight was.
When it gives Stiles his first white hair on his left temple. He keeps cutting it, but Lydia knows exactly where it is, and that knowledge fills her with pride. She is there. Witnessing everything. She is part of his life.
Time also fades their scars, and for lack of new ones, their skin becomes smooth under their kisses. Lydia never tires of kissing Stiles's skin where it's hot from the sun after an afternoon spent by the river, or when he has goosebumps on wintry nights. She knows from experience how different it feels to be kissed on an un-scared skin, how it regains some sensitivity, and if she can give him something new, she will never hesitate to do it.
But time gets jealous of their shelter every now and then.
On a Sunday, it draws their attention.
They were talking in their kitchen, perched on the countertop while finishing lunch, when someone had knocked on the door. Stiles opened it while something was curling up in a ball inside of Lydia, as if she was sensing danger. She couldn't see the front door, but from her spot, she heard the two voices and they had scraped down her spine like nails on a blackboard.
Her parents.
They didn't stay long, and they are gone now, but Lydia still feels trapped. She tries to remember that it's Sunday, that she is with Stiles, that they were having a nice day until then.
In the morning, they went for a late walk. The streets were empty, and the sky beautiful… But it's fading away, and she knows she is slowly falling into a nightmare, a fugue state.
Her first instinct is to want to get out of it, go back to Stiles and their cozy Sunday, but she remembers Alan's advice: It can't hurt you anymore. If you stop resisting it, you'll feel better once you get through. She is with Stiles anyway, she feels his hands in hers, a comforting weight that is anchoring her to reality.
The flashes that come to her clearly have something to do with her parents' visit. They overwhelm her with those feelings of frustration and anger she had when she was younger. It was so long ago that she barely recognizes them...
Sometimes, she is able to maintain a certain distance between her visions and herself, some buffer that allows her to observe without feeling emotionally involved. But not today. She feels herself get carried away in that torrent she can't make out anything, only this old inhibited rage. She doesn't want it. Not today. Her parents' visit was enough.
In that chaos, she seeks Stiles, has done it a thousand times.
He tried once to go with her when she was in that state, but it's not the same as the dreams they share at night, and it took Stiles two hours and fourteen minutes to wake up from it. Lydia had never been so terrified.
Since then, Stiles never tried again, but he is waiting for her in a safe space. With Alan's help, they built it somewhere in her mind. All Lydia needs to do if she feels overwhelmed is to reach out in that direction, and Stiles will find her.
She doesn't even realize that's what she is doing when she is already back to reality.
Stiles is whispering against her ear, and she is enveloped in his embrace, one of his hands on her lower back and the other one holding hers at the side. The first thing she takes in is his warmth, his body pressed against hers, his chest, his cheek, and his mouth. She and Stiles are moving, swaying from side to side and spinning in slow circles, back in their kitchen. She only feels the smile stretching on her lips when she hears his in his low voice. He is singing along to the Christmas song playing on his phone.
They are dancing.
It's not even Christmas, but they discovered that Christmas feels a lot more like Christmas when it's not in December.
"Stiles…"
"I've got you, Lyds," he murmurs even lower. "I'm here. I'm right here. You can come back."
"How… How long was I gone?"
"Not long, don't worry. I only played it twice."
"Oh…" the tension is her shoulder disappears with a sigh. Sometimes, it's a lot longer, hours… They had a long and tiring week, and she would hate thinking she wasted what was left of their precious Sunday together by being out.
"It didn't go well?" he inquires.
She shakes her head, burying it in the crook of his neck and already feeling that irrational rage take hold of her again. Stiles lets go of her hand to cup the back of her skull, and she wraps her arms around his neck.
He is still in that safe place in her mind. She feels him and stays with him. Outside that circle, a storm is howling, a wind from her past, screaming in her ears.
Something is trying to take her back to her vision, but she struggles against it. She shouldn't, she knows she shouldn't because she knows it's always more difficult after, but she doesn't have the strength to face whatever her brain is trying to show her. Not now.
Stiles must feel it because he talks to her, keeping her nestled against him.
"You're back here now, with me. In our house, in our kitchen…"
"Mmh…"
"Picture the circles, like Alan told you…"
"Yeah… The pack's symbol… We're safe."
"Yes, we are. You're safe in my arms. We're in the circle. The others, they are all protecting us in the second circle, remember?"
"Mmh…"
"Scott, Kira, Melissa, Alan…"
She breathes slowly in, repeating his words like a silent mantra, picturing the circles, like Alan showed her.
"Allison and your parents too," Lydia eventually adds.
Stiles bends down to rest his cheek against her hair, and she feels him inhale.
"Yeah, Allison and my parents too…" He slowly spins them around two times, giving her the time she usually needs. "D'you picture them?"
"Mmh…"
"Now, come back to me, my love. Find your way back to me. I'm right there, right in the middle."
She lets her mind and her heart get enveloped by their present, the safe haven they carved in space and time. She listens to Stiles. She listens to his voice while soft notes of their Christmas song play along in a loop in the background.
"We had a long week, you and me. We barely saw each other. I hate when that happens… Remember why?"
She lets the question form in her mind, lets his words and their meaning cast their reality against the fog that has invaded her, and she nods. "The cook was sick at the diner, so you had to cover for him, and I had to work more at the museum because of the new exhibit that's taking ages to be ready."
"Yeah… Do we still agree on the fact that we'll both try to get our next Friday and Monday free to make up for it?"
"Oh yes…"
"Even if it means we'll be a pain in the ass for everyone else?"
"I don't care. I want my four-day weekend with you." She lifts her head just long enough to meet his eyes. "With my husband."
It's been almost four years, but saying those words always has the same euphoric effect in her stomach.
Stiles grins with a wink. "That's right."
Then, she tucks her nose back into his neck, kissing his skin before relaxing in his scent again.
"What else…" he resumes. "Yesterday I picked you up after work to buy a fridge. Now, everything in this house is ours, do you believe it?"
"Barely…"
"Only the walls aren't ours… I can't believe it sometimes either. When we first got here, we had literally nothing. No money, no jobs… I'm still convinced that the only reason we found a place to rent was thanks to you and your Field's Medal. They were so suspicious of me, but when they asked about you, and you told them about it… I knew that was it, they couldn't resist you. Who could anyway?"
He breathes against her neck, and it sends shivers all along her spine. She squeezes him lovingly, "Don't be silly. You're the most lovable person I know. If they couldn't see it, it's their loss. Anyway, you had to have made a good impression on them too. They wouldn't have rented us the house otherwise."
"I know, love…"
He rubs her back, and she lets her body sag against him, relishing in that peace he manages to instill in her. She already feels better, and it feels so good to be in his arms that she doesn't want to move. She wants to keep dancing like that, to keep listening to him.
Over his shoulder, she catches sight of their dining table in the living room. The first thing they bought along with the mailbox, right after getting married. It was her first table, Stiles's too. They told Scott and Kira about it even before telling them about their marriage, and they teased them about it.
Lydia wasn't even the slightest bit annoyed about that, not at all. She didn't expect anyone else but Stiles to understand… But a table… with six chairs… That was something. She never bothered about a dining table before and neither did Stiles. They both used to eat in the kitchen, on a table that served many purposes, or on their couch, in their car… In Europe together, nothing was theirs but their love and then… Then, they had a dining table with chairs – because they have friends and a family they could invite into their home. Home…
Like a reflex, she tightens her arms around Stiles, and he keeps talking.
"Remember the first time you came back from your painting class with all your equipment and settled in the study?"
She nods, already knowing where he is going with that and feeling her chest brim with her love for him.
"It was on a Friday night. We spent the entire night settling your stuff there… The morning after, you woke up early to try something the teacher showed you. I kissed you when I woke up. We had breakfast together, and then you went back to the study, but…" his body shakes with tiny waves of laughter. "But we kept talking to each other from across the house, remember?"
"Yeah," she answers him in a chuckle. "It was the first and last time I painted there."
She remembers talking with him for a few minutes like that before deciding that painting in the kitchen with him would be just as good...if not, better.
His irises catch a few rays of sunshine when he lowers his head to meet her gaze. "I like it better that way… Together."
"Me too," she acknowledges in a whisper as they nuzzle up against each other a bit more.
Lydia loves those weekends they spend almost entirely in the kitchen. Stiles, trying recipes for the diner and Lydia, painting by his side. They taste everything he makes, and they end up sitting side by side on the countertop, eating directly from the pans and discussing what kind of spices he could use, what vegetable, what side dish would go well with it… It's often the middle of the afternoon when they do the dishes.
He tells her how proud he is of her. She has grown a lot more confident in her drawing and painting skills. She isn't afraid anymore to show her work to the others in her classes.
And then, there's Andrea.
A nineteen-year-old girl who went to Alan for help after having been bitten last year by something, someone. When Alan came for a visit, he told Lydia about her, asking her if she could help. Stiles remembers the long discussions that followed. Lydia had been scared to dive back into the supernatural. They talked a lot, together, with Alan, with Scott and Kira, even Melissa… and Lydia eventually said yes. Andrea is doing a lot better now…
"You're helping someone, Lyds, do you realize it? You're making a real difference in a stranger's life. Who knows? Maybe someday, she'll go back home, and she'll bring the same peace you brought her to someone else who has lived the same things. You're changing lives, Lyds. You're saving lives."
Lydia shifts in his arms to press the bridge of her nose against his.
"You saved mine too."
All she sees are his eyes, riveted by hers, so big that all she can make out is their incredible brown. Deep, soulful, loving.
"Stiles…"
"Mmh?"
"I'm so tired of not spending my days with you."
And she is, she really is. Those words weigh on her tongue when she articulates them. Their weight settles on her chest, and she is reminded of all those times when he has the night shifts, and she gets home too late to see him, how she cries herself asleep on his pillow because she misses him too much. She recalls waking up when he crawls into bed, finally relishing in his arms, and crying with him – both in relief and frustration because, in a few hours, it will be her turn to get up. Sometimes, they'd rather not sleep at all and end up talking instead.
She can't stand it anymore. She needs a change.
"Yeah, me too…" Stiles pauses, seeming to hesitate to say something.
"What?"
"Just… I have a surprise," he discloses with a half-smile. "Maybe I found the beginning of a solution. I'll show you in two months... during our vacation."
"Really?"
"Yeah… At least, I hope so."
On the countertop, the battery of Stiles's phone dies and the music stops. "How are you feeling?" he inquires as they gradually stop swaying.
"Better…"
"That's a small better… Wanna cuddle on the couch for a while?"
His tone is enough to loosen the vice around her chest, and she can feel her blood give more colors to her cheeks.
"Always…"
"Go ahead," he lets go of her with one kiss at her hairline. "I'm right behind you."
A few minutes later, he is with her, a steaming cup of vanilla green tea in his hands. When she brings it to her nose, the scent tickles the corner of her lips and coaxes them to curl up.
"Thanks," she murmurs as he sits next to her, lifting his arm to let her snuggle up against him.
Slowly, silence spreads in the room, coating them in something peaceful, finishing by absorbing the waves and ripples her parents' unexpected visit created in their home. Her thoughts get quieter and quieter, hushed by Stiles's caresses on her temple, the comforting rise and fall of his chest… And the rest of their Sunday discreetly reenters the atmosphere. Through the half-closed shutters, a few rays of sunshine are drawing shapes on their wooden coffee table. In their wake, specks of dust are dancing, spinning in slow circles.
"I should have said something," Stiles utters against her temple, and Lydia is taken back an hour earlier.
Everything seemed surreal. Their voices, their faces, and her mother's tears that hadn't moved her. Neither she nor Stiles said anything. She didn't understand why her parents were there, together. She thought maybe they came to seek forgiveness, so she had given it to them without feeling any bitterness, but later, she saw their engagement rings, and her mother explained they were soon getting remarried. They were just passing by because the room they wanted to book for the reception wasn't far away.
Natalie kept saying they had changed, and Lydia wondered if they realized they hadn't even tried to know who Stiles was. They never even alluded to the fact that she was called Stilinski now and not Martin anymore. A big part of their daughter's life was unknown to them, and it didn't seem to matter. The last thing Lydia had said to her mother all those years ago was that she was going to France to visit Allison's grave. Natalie didn't even try to find out what happened after, why she came here, to Oregon.
No, they haven't changed, and saying something wouldn't have made any difference.
After some time, Stiles curses, a faint anger wavering in his voice. "They don't realize how precious your forgiveness is. I should have…" he shrugs, heaving a long sigh. "I don't know… It took you years to find it in yourself to forgive them, and they didn't even seem to care about it. I hate it."
Lydia is speechless, still lost between the safety of his body and voice and the memories that she tries to approach extra carefully to avoid another waking nightmare. Stiles is right, her parents didn't seem to care about any of it. When they left, they didn't promise anything. No holidays together, no cards, no phone calls. Nothing. It's for the best, that's for sure, but still, Lydia feels like they brushed her off from the back of their hands like a tiny insect. It's not fair. She already feels herself getting carried away into nervous giggles and uncontrollable sobs like she did earlier in Stiles's arms, but she needs to stay anchored here.
"I hate it too…"
"One word from you, and we take the Jeep," he continues. "One word, I swear… We know where they're going after all."
In a fleeting daze, she lets herself imagine... Stiles, making a scene in the big empty ball room, coming to her defense, and making them listen to the list of everything she went through. Her parents would be left speechless in front of the force of nature that is Stiles. But then, she remembers that they wouldn't understand, and that they would find a way to team up against him, attack the love of her life with the same sharp words they used on her. She won't have that. She will never let that happen.
She sips on her tea and sets it on the table before turning to fold her legs on the couch, leaning her cheek against his bicep. "I would love to see that, but this is not a good idea."
"You sure?"
She nods, laying a kiss on the side of his chest from the tip of her lips. "I don't need it anymore, I just wanna go back to our cozy Sunday, to our life and family. It felt good to finally be able to tell them I forgave them because it's true. Whether they understand it or not doesn't matter. I can forget about them now. Completely. Between you and them, I'll always chose you. Always."
Stiles gives the top of her skull a long kiss, breathing her in. "They don't deserve you."
Their voices get soft, almost whispers in the air, as if their souls also needed caresses to appease their bristled hairs. Outside, clouds are gliding on the blue sky and one ray of sunshine glides with them on Stiles's skin. With the same leisureliness, the same awe, Lydia traces paths between his moles. On his arm, on his cheek and neck. They keep talking, murmuring to slowly come back to their own reality, dawning light weaving a home mantel out of the atoms around them.
Soon, they are supposed to go to the hardware store with Kira and Scott to buy all the equipment they need to convert their basement into a garage and a "full moon room". Lydia listens to Stiles talk about it. She knows he can't wait to start, and like every time he talks about it, he gets emotional. Lydia can't do anything else but follow him.
There was a time when he would have never thought something like that could be for him. Despite the years passing by, despite all the ways his life has changed, he is still mesmerized by those miracles. It makes Lydia love him even more. She knows helping Scott and Kira is also a way for him to be sure that when the time comes, he will know how to build a house for them, or that at least, he will have some basic knowledge. It reassures him, and she listens to him talk about it again. He never tires of it, and neither does she.
Evening falls without them noticing, and just like that, the memory of the Martins fades away, replaced by their own reality, they own eternities of never-ending love. When they go to bed that night, Lydia is surprised again by how everything is more manageable with Stiles. There was a time when seeing her parents would have probably crushed her for weeks…months maybe...
But now, she remembers the streetlights, the thin curtains, and how long it took them to buy all those pieces of furniture.
Stiles is already under the covers, and she peers at him from her side of the bed, grinning.
"What?" he teases, the same amusement glued to his lips.
She gets under the covers and they automatically let their bodies cuddle.
"I just love our problems."
Just as they have done, a countless number of times, Stiles kisses her temple, whispering, "I love you", into her ear, and they fall asleep.
Two other months go by a lot quicker than they had thought and finally, their long-awaited vacations arrive.
Stiles has been awake for two hours already, and Lydia is still sound asleep against him. She has her back to him, but under his arm, he feels her ribs regularly rise and fall. He relishes in that feeling, it's the first time in the last week that they managed to sleep more than six hours in a row together.
The alarm clock should go off soon. Stiles keeps craning his neck to glance at the red numbers that seem to have decided to drive him crazy. He has been planning this surprise for Lydia for months now and there is only one thing he wants: for the day to start. Finally, "59" becomes "00" and the radio switches on, still startling him.
In his arms, Lydia grumbles, and Stiles hastens to shut his eyes, adding his own groans to hers and holding her tighter when she turns around to tuck her head under his chin. He feels her hands cling to the collar of his pajamas and weakly utter sounds of disapproval. He can't help opening his eyes, letting endearment bloom on his lips. He'll never grow tired of the habit she has of finding refuge in his arms. It's the first thing she does every morning, even when she knows she doesn't have time for much more than an exhale. It constricts his chest every time because he knows it's her way to seek courage.
The hand he had around her waist skims up along her back to her skull which he tenderly massages before burying his nose in her thick locks. She washed her hair the night before and it feels so soft that it's almost a reflex to take her deeper into his arms.
A moan comes out of her lips against the skin of his neck. Stiles still doesn't know how it's possible for someone to feel so many things from a simple sound, but he does. His smile broadens and it feels like his chest is drawing him forward, drawing him to her. Always her. Love bursts out of him in tiny kisses in her hair. She returns each of them in a slow, hypnotized rhythm that overwhelms Stiles with a strong sense of fulfillment.
"Stiles…" she sighs, sneaking her hand between them to rub his chest. "Weren't you supposed to silence the alarm yesterday?"
"Sorry, must have forgotten."
"But it's the holidays…" she wails in a sleepy voice as her body keeps craving more proximity. Stiles parts from her hair and lightly presses his thumb on her temple to make her lift her head.
"I'm sorry, my heart. Will you forgive me?"
Finally, she opens her eyes and flashes him a grin full of tiredness and love, the one that melts on his skin and entire body like chocolate, giving him the feeling of floating in honey.
"Kiss me and I will."
Stiles lets his hand find her cheek and kisses her deeply, barely giving her time to catch her breath before kissing her again to feel her short moans vibrate in him and echo through his flesh and bone. Her skin is hot, her legs already tangling up with his under the cover, and if Stiles wasn't so impatient to show her his surprise, he would stay there against her for hours.
"Alright, I forgive you," she mumbles a bit winded, eyes roaming all over his face.
"So… Since we're awake so early and it's sunny…" He tries to keep a straight face, but he quickly has to look away from her because she is already smirking, and he is sure she figured him out.
As if to prove him right, she redirects his stare on her, hooking her index under his chin.
He scoffs nervously. "Wanna… I don't know… take the bikes and go for a ride?"
"Huh huh? Could this have something to do with the surprise you told me about two months ago?"
"Maybe?"
Cheerfulness seems to bubble in her chest, and she eventually says yes, agreeing to not pry any information from him in exchange of a few more kisses. They idle in bed for a few more blissful minutes before having a big breakfast while Stiles is tempted more than once to blurt everything out.
There is a century-old abandoned mansion a few hours away from town. Scott and Kira were the ones who discovered it. It's for sale, and the owners are desperate to get rid of it. They didn't have time to go there together, but Stiles contacted the bank for information about loans and met the owners once. Today, he wants to take Lydia there.
They will leave right after eating and ride at a tranquil pace. The sun is balmy outside, and they have all day.
Stiles has stopped counting the number of times they have done this – wake in each other's arms and have a late breakfast...because it's impossible to leave the bed when Lydia makes him feel like his slightest touch is all she has been craving the entire week. The sheets rustle softly, hugging the movement of their legs and hips, each of them seeking more caresses while they speak in hushed tones in between kisses and giggling. They make love sometimes, but not always. Sometimes, they forget. Sometimes they don't even need that physical intimacy to feel everything with the same intensity. They have late breakfast, and they hide all the clocks because it would invite the real time in their routine and neither want that. This is their own space, their own time. They pack lunch, snacks, water, and their bathing suits on occasions when it's sunny like today, and they take their bikes.
Today is sadly too cool to bathe in the river, but Stiles is too anxious to get to the mansion anyway. He hears Lydia pack a few things while he clears the table and remembers a time when she told him she hated camping. His mind suddenly wanders in a daydream, bliss floating on his lips. So many things have changed… How many will follow?
Lydia leads the way out of town and quickly, the scent of pine and fir trees overwhelms their senses. Next to him, Lydia has her chin high, and a relaxed glee spread over her lips. She looks so much more at ease here, amongst the trees. She always has…
They follow the creek on their right until it meets the river and take pause there, as they always do, to rest on the shore. There's a waterfall upstream. That's where they spent their honeymoon, camping and bathing for three whole days. Alone. They have been wanting to go back, but never found the time. Stiles hopes they will if it all goes according to his plan.
The river branches off on the right after the curve, taking the trees in its wake, but they keep following the road. On their right, the faraway mountains cast their silhouettes against the pale cornflower blue sky, and on their left, a wide and endless plain merges with the fluffy clouds on the horizon.
They are alone in the whole world for almost forty-five minutes on this portion of the road. Sometimes, when their weeks are too crowded, when they can't find their way into their own shelter, they drive there with the Jeep for sunrise or sunset and it never fails to do the trick.
There is a small town after that. Barely a hundred inhabitants, a gas station, and a diner. Lydia took Stiles there once. She discovered it with Kira and Melissa during their first year here when they were trying to find a place with decent pies for their girls' afternoon.
The abandoned mansion is a few minutes away from that town, slightly away from the road, where two statues of lions on the left guard the access to a long dirt path bordered by two rows of vine maple trees.
Lydia stops just before the statues, putting her foot down and turning to Stiles.
"And now?" she is beaming at him, excitement sparkling in her eyes.
He tries to keep a straight face as he points his chin to the dirt path. "We keep going…"
She gets back on her bike, and Stiles watches her go, leaving the electric impression of her elation in the tranquil air. He feels almost dizzy, his own shortness of breath mixing with the butterflies awakening in his stomach. Lydia's wheels make that distinct sound against the grit, and he closes his eyes. The breeze in the trees, the birds… They could be happy here. Not entirely isolated, but enough to live blissfully the way they want to. The mansion is big, but they wouldn't live in it entirely anyway.
When he opens his eyes again, he makes out Lydia's silhouette, already at the entrance stairs, waving at him. Longing pulses through his veins, and he hurries to get to her. She still has that same air of mischief when he lays his bike next to hers and without saying anything, he takes the keys from his pocket. Next to him, Lydia is restless, and if he didn't know her so well, it wouldn't draw his attention. All he sees when he looks at her is a joy so intense that it makes her irises sparkle.
He is about to ask her what she is hiding from him, but she cuts him off before he has the chance to open his mouth.
"Open the door…"
Her wide smile is far too suspicious to be innocent, and Stiles suddenly understands that it wasn't a coincidence if she took the right direction in town before seeking confirmation, as if she was suddenly remembering she wasn't supposed to know where they were heading, she also packed enough for the few hours ride, and mostly, she agreed way too easily to follow him without any question.
"You knew it…" he deduces him as she is flushing adorably. "You knew it, but there's more to it, you…"
The red on her cheeks blooms in a laugh so light it evaporates in the air. He knew he had noticed something different about her over the past couple of months, and it had nothing to do with her parents…
"We had the exact same idea, didn't we?"
But she doesn't answer, repeating him to open the door with a voice as light as her laugh.
"Wait a second… You knew the alarm was still on this morning!"
"Maybe… Open the door, Stiles!"
She is almost hoping up and down with eagerness, and Stiles's chest soaks up all the love around them. When he finally opens the door, she comes behind him, rises on her tiptoes and uses her hands to blindfold him.
"My turn now," Lydia states after kissing the nape of his neck.
They take a few first steps, staggering with wheezing giggles before Stiles hauls her up on his back and she guides him through the empty rooms until they reach one inundated in sun light. As planned, the owners took off the wooden planks protecting the full-length window, and a beautiful yellow light grazes the dark hardwood floor. It creaks under Stiles's feet and Lydia hopes that if they can do what she has in mind, that sound will become part of their daily routine.
"Don't open your eyes just yet," she makes him promise as she climbs down his back to position him right in the middle, facing the window. "Now, you can."
In front of them is a large terrace covered in weeds and beyond, the garden. Bushes of lilacs, daisies, violets, and dandelion flowers. Lydia keeps her eyes locked on Stiles, scrutinizing his reactions without missing a single one. When he turns to look at her, her heart leaps, begging her to get closer to him, and her feet follow the pull.
"It's not a wheat field, but it's just as pretty… When I saw this room, I immediately thought it could be the restaurant room."
His eyes widen. "You… They let you in?"
"Uh-huh…" she flirts, wrapping her arms around his waist to slide her hands in the back pockets of his pants. "I came here after work once and contacted the owners right after to view the whole mansion with them and they asked me if I was related to some Stiles Stilinski… Apparently they somehow agreed to give him the keys…" she raises an eyebrow, making Stiles smirk and wink. "How did you even do that?"
"That's my secret… Maybe I'll tell you tonight when I show you the rest of my surprise."
"The rest?"
He nods, resting his forehead against hers and encircling her waist with his arms. "So, you're the reason why they wouldn't let me view the mansion before today…"
"Possibly," she winks at him with the same smirk. "I told them what I was planning, and they promised they would clean up some rooms for us."
She giggles when she feels the wetness of Stiles's lips on her nose.
"You're wonderful… How did this even happen? How did we have the same idea at the same time?"
"I don't know…"
Her pulse had quickened when she understood that the same idea crossed their minds, but it worked out perfectly. She tilts her head back with delight as Stiles's lips glide over her face, showering her with kisses in a softness and tenderness that only he has the secret of conveying. The sun warms up her back and everything feels so perfect in this instant that she wishes they could already stay here.
"When do you have to give back the keys?" she gushes in a breath that Stiles gathers on his lips.
"Tomorrow around noon…"
A smile forms in his kiss, one she imitates without even realizing it when she pushes slightly away.
"Do you mean, we can stay for the night?"
Stiles deliberately leans to her ear, his fingers teasingly following the seams of her jeans. "We even have electricity, and Scott sneaked in a mattress, a microwave, and a kettle. We just need to find the room." He takes a small step back to take her hands and throw her an apologetic glance. "I wanted to make this more romantic, but it got complicated to organize without you noticing anything."
"We could eat lasagna from a plastic box in the dust, I would still love it."
"Perfect, 'cause that's exactly what's gonna happen."
Lydia snorts, hiding her face in her hands and leaning them on Stiles's chest, waiting for his arms to envelop her. They stay like that for a minute until Lydia takes him by the hand. "Come on, let me show you the rest."
Together, they wander through the many rooms, sometimes losing their way in between staircases that seem to materialize behind every door and all the hidden areas, already picturing what kind of work would need to be done, what each room could be turned into… It's not always easy because the walls have completely collapsed in some rooms and other areas are blocked by iron chains for safety reasons, but the owners told them both not to worry. They have an agreement with the state of Oregon that will provide financial support to anyone who would buy that mansion and follow a precise plan of renovation to make it a historical building. The future buyers will have to come up with a plan to open the main area and right wing to tourists with the possibility to keep the left wing as their home.
The left wing doesn't wear the effect of time as much as the rest. It's also smaller than their current house, but it's maybe not that bad considering there is only a fireplace to heat the living room and a few stoves scattered in the other rooms. Lydia keeps smiling at Stiles, and she would have made fun of herself if Stiles wasn't doing exactly the same.
Hand in hand, they explore the garden until they find a bench under an old lime tree where they sit for a while. With her two hands gripping the edge of the bench, Lydia listens to the silence, soaking up everything about this moment, about that new step they are about to take. Together.
The softness of Stiles's hand covering hers makes her come back to reality. His voice melds with the rustling of the leaves in the light breeze.
"Alan told me he was flying back to the Philippines next week."
Something heavy settles in the pit of her stomach. She didn't have the chance to talk to him about it yet.
On the back of her hand, Stiles's fingers play with her knuckles and he resumes. "He um… He told me you didn't want to go with him…"
"Yeah… I… I wanted to tell you about it, but um… I hate ruining our moments together with supernatural stuff."
"I get it, don't worry. I'm not mad or anything, it's just… Why did you say no?"
She wasn't expecting this and frowns at him.
"What do you mean?"
"Well," he scratches his neck absently, wetting his lips and Lydia knows it's worry she is picking up in his eyes. "It would be only for two weeks, and it's the opportunity you have been waiting for your whole life… A chance to know more about your powers and abilities."
It's what Alan said when he called her, asking her to accompany him to meet a woman with the same abilities. There is an entire community around her. They welcome anyone willing to do good in the world. Alan already met her a few times. In a week, he is flying back to set up a series of actions that should make the community known outside of the archipelago. Their goal is to help girls like Lydia, the ones who dig their own grave with each step, make them realize they are not alone. They want to organize conferences at the Nemeton in Moldavia, write books and articles, send emissaries all over the world.
Lydia believes in this project, but she also knows what is on the other side of that coin. A new immersion in the supernatural world, and she doesn't want that. That's what she explained to Alan, and Stiles nods when she repeats those words.
"I get it," he exhales in a complete stillness that is so unlike him that Lydia starts to worry herself. "But Lyds, I can see that you're dying to do more. When you were helping Andrea, you looked… I don't know, like you had found your calling, like that was what you were meant to do."
"That's true… But nothing stops me from doing that here, with you. Whether I go with Alan or not, it won't stop them from setting up that project."
"But don't you wanna be part of it?"
"Yes, I do… But in my own way. In our own way. I could tell Alan to give our address to anyone who would need my help like he did with Andrea… I could have… I don't know… Something like support groups where Scott and Kira could come to participate and share their experience, even you…"
Her words seem to appease his tensed features and when she stops talking, the usual softness of his eyes has replaced their color of concern.
"I didn't hesitate, you know," she continues gently. "Even for a second… I was already protesting internally when I understood he wanted me to go with him. I told him no. I hadn't thought of having support groups yet, but I told him no right away. Maybe there was a time when I would have hesitated, but not today. Maybe that's why I didn't talk to you about it. It was so obvious. It wasn't even a question. Can you imagine everything that would change in our life if I decided to go? I like the direction we're taking. Together. That's what I want. You're right when you say that it did a lot of good for me to help Andrea, but I need our life before anything else. I need you, what we're building. I think Alan understood because he didn't even insist. I think he mostly called me to let me know…" She lets out a faint laugh and leans her cheek against Stiles's shoulder. "Stiles, I need you, and more than that, I want you… I choose you. You're the right path for me, I know it. All the rest is meaningless without you."
She can feel the effect of her words on him, and it mesmerizes her. Something loosens in him. She can feel when relief overwhelms him. He sniffs, and she shifts to take him in her arms, planting a kiss right the crook of his neck. It makes him giggle and a small tear rolls down his cheek.
"I'm sorry," he falters, wiping his cheek and grinning nervously. "I'm just… I think I'm tired of having so little time with you, but I also got scared you would regret not going with Alan."
His vulnerable tone pierces through her heart, and she takes his hand in hers, nestling it on her lap. "I know, babe… But I won't. I would regret being away from you, though. Just the thought makes me sick. And besides, it's two weeks… Fourteen days… Fourteen nights without my goodnight kiss, fourteen mornings without my human heating pad to snuggle up against…" She makes a shuddering noise and lifts her head to see Stiles smile. "I wouldn't make it."
"Yeah, me neither…" He sniffs again, but her words seem to have erased all trace of sadness in his voice. "That's a great idea, by the way. Support groups… I can see you doing that."
"Yeah?"
Hope and excitement form an armor around them, and they keep talking, diving into their future here like they dive in each other's dreams. When they start getting hungry, they go back inside to the room that Scott and Kira set up for them on the first floor. They dusted it, putting an air mattress and a small table with two candles. There is a thin curtain on the window protected by planks of wood and when Stiles parts the curtains, the orange light of the setting sun filters through a few holes.
After eating, they lay on the mattress, Stiles immediately opening his arms to welcome Lydia as close as possible and letting his fingers run into her hair. Her own hand finds the smooth skin of his stomach under his shirt. Enthralled by their caresses, they barely realize that the night gradually swallows the room. The only light left is one of the last candles on the table.
"So, this is it," Lydia whispers. "We're gonna quit our jobs and come live here, where we'll spend the rest of our life… You'll have your restaurant, I can take care of the museum part, maybe we can even get authorizations to rent two or three rooms…"
"Yeah…"
Time seems to stand still as they both realize what it means.
"We'll be together," she murmurs even lower. "Forever. I would have freaked out… before. When people asked me if I could see myself doing research for the rest of my life, I would freak out. It seemed so long and empty… The rest of my life…" She props herself up on her elbow, her hand under his shirt drawing circles on his chest. His irises shine in the near darkness, it hypnotizes her. "Now, I can't wait, Stiles. I can't wait to see what the rest of my life, of our life will be. Here. We're gonna spend all our days together." The same fervor adorns their lips, and Stiles cradles her face as he nods, still speechless. "I know it won't be easy all the time, but we'll be together."
Slowly, she leans to drop a slow kiss on his lips, and it seems to help him find the strength to move. The mattress shifts under his weight when he rolls them over to lie above Lydia.
"And you now what?" he whispers, a playful spark in his eyes making her blood pulse faster at her temples.
She wordlessly shakes her head as the flame of the candle gets swallowed by the night.
"Even when we can't pay all our bills, I'll always be there to keep you warm."
"I'm counting on it," she answers him in a smile, letting her vision time to adjust to the complete darkness. She can't see him, but her body knows how to make room for him, and she lets their limbs find the rest they are craving in the shelter they each provide for the other.
"It's gonna be perfect, Lyds." His sleepy voice breaks the silence and resonates into the marrow of her bone. "No, it doesn't mean we won't have any problems, or that we'll be living in a constant joy, but we'll be where we have always belonged."
"Together."
"Together. Always."
His lips find her temple like they do every night, and she pushes against them for another kiss… Like she does every night. A ray of moonlight showers his face. Even half asleep, his entire being is swelling with love for her, and Lydia remembers what she has thought a thousand times since they moved in Oregon and a million times more since always.
She loves him.
She loves their problems. Always has.
She could spend her whole life solving them with him.
Together…
Forever.
It's November, and it's already freezing. Even though the renovations go well, it's just beginning. Stiles and Lydia still have to camp in their own living room because the bedroom has some serious thermal insulation problems. They set a tent next to the fireplace and keep the fire alive as long as they can every night. Despite this problem and the occasional frustrations, they both wake up every morning with incredible energy.
Today, a new stack of wood arrives for the fireplace. Stiles is paying the delivery person when he spots Lydia coming back from her morning walk with Hope, their white Swiss Shepherd puppy. She talks with the driver for a while and waves at Stiles when she spots him through the window.
A few minutes later, she is by his side, Hope immediately heading for her spot next to the fireplace.
"As I was saying to your husband, we won't be able to come back before January, but you should have enough. We brought a little extra in case, and we will only charge you for what you use."
"That's great, thanks!" She answers him, taking off her coat, and scarf before laying them on the back of the couch, her cheeks still red from the icy wind.
There is something so simple and domestic about it that Stiles feels his chest brim with a strength Lydia only has ever been able to ignite. She must feel it somehow because as the man is filling the bill, she stares up at him and grins. He can feel her trying to reach out to him, and he answers, letting their soul embrace in their own space and time.
"Between you and me," the guy tells them, engrossed in his documents. "I'm not sure you fully realize what it means to keep that fireplace as your only heating system. I won't insist about the electrical system if you really don't want it, but how long do you think you'll be able to live like that?" he asks, pointing at their tent, drawing Stiles's attention.
There's a lot of sympathy in his voice, he seems to really be concerned about them, and maybe he is right. They kept refusing the idea of radiators because so far and despite all the complications, it has been a blessing to take everything as an excuse to snuggle up with Lydia under thick covers. Maybe they'll get tired of being so cold every day in Winter, but all he can think of right now is that their problems are his favorite ones to solve.
And never has a question been easier to answer.
When that simple answer leaves Lydia's lips, it sounds even more beautiful.
"Forever."
He looks at her and everything else vanishes in the green of her eyes. Right there. That's where the answer has always been. Stiles thinks he has always known that answer – ever since the day he was told to sit beside Lydia in class, ever since the day she started doodling on a separate piece of paper.
Forever.
