Wildest Dreams

I thought heaven can't help me now

Nothing lasts forever

But this is gonna take me down

Lydia stared at the ceiling. A year ago today Allison Argent died. She closed her eyes and grabbed a handful of her sheets. It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair, it wasn't fair. Why Allison? Of all the people in the world she deserved it the least.

Something hit her window and Lydia jerked up to a sitting position. Slowly, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. She made her way to the window silently and opened it. On the ground was Stiles Stilinski, a small pile of pebbles in his hand. He gave her a lopsided grin. "Hey, gorgeous."

She raised her eyebrows. "What do you think you're doing?"

"We're running away."

"Oh, really?"

"For the night. I know we'll have to answer to parents tomorrow but I need this tonight. And if I feel this torn up and tortured, I can only imagine how you must feel. So come on, Lyds… Let's live on the wild side for the night."

Lydia hesitated only briefly before shutting her window and grabbed her discarded shoes laying on the floor by the door. She ran downstairs and out the door in her bare feet, making sure to be quiet and quick. The moment she was outside, she raced into his arms. Like they always had, Stiles's arms found their way around her frame, as if they could protect her from the storm of emotions inside her.

He said let's get out of this town

Drive out of the city

Away from the crowds

"How do you know about this place?" Lydia stepped out of the room of their little inn, waiting as Stiles shut it behind them. He offered her his arm, which she took, and led her down the street. The two of them hadn't gone far. They were at a little inn maybe an hour from home. But the moment that they had seen the Welcome to Beacon Hills sign in the rearview, Lydia felt as if a weight had been lifted.

"Family tradition. My dad, my mom, and I." Stiles stopped at a light, waiting for the light to turn to walk. "It's not far, I know. But it was our little family vacation. It started before I was born. They got into a fight and it ended in them both leaving the room. Then my dad came into the kitchen- my mom used to stress cook- and announced that they needed a break. So they drove to the next town and stayed the night. Then they just made a tradition out of it. My dad and I kept it up after she died. It seemed wrong not to. It's just an escape. A small one, but an escape."

"That's… that's really cool… I bet your mom was great…" They started across the street.

"She was." Stiles was smiling, just slightly. "She was beautiful. Her hair was like yours, actually. Strawberry blonde, long… She was beautiful without knowing it, you know? And she couldn't sing worth a crap but when I was little she used to sing to me every night." His voice cracked. "I miss it. It's one of the things I miss most. The little things do that, you know? It's the little things."

Lydia thought of the way that Allison would add vanilla to her soda or slide down the hallways in socks and felt a pang. Yes, she agreed silently. It is the little things. Instead of answering, she took Stiles's hand in hers and squeezed gently.

He cast her a small smile. "You would have liked her."

"I know I would have…"

Stiles cleared his throat and led her onto the beach. It was beautiful, bathed in moonlight with a million stars up above. She glanced up at him and said quietly, "This was a really good idea, Stiles…"

His face lit up the beach.

Say you'll remember me

Standing in a nice dress, staring at the sunset, babe

Red lips and rosy cheeks

Lydia was starting to think they'd be out there all night until she felt a drop of water on her forehead, followed by another on her arm. She looked at Stiles, who grinned and shrugged. "It's sprinkling," he said.

In another couple of minutes it was pouring. "Damn!" Stiles laughed, grabbing her hand and breaking into a run across the sand.

They burst into their room laughing and soaking wet. "That," Lydia panted, "was great." She grinned at Stiles, who shook his hair out. Droplets of water went flying. She laughed. "Can't you use the bathroom for that?"

"No." He grinned. "What does it matter? We're dripping everywhere."

Lydia shook her head, still grinning. "Stiles?"

"Yeah?"

She looked at him, fully taking in the dripping wet boy standing in front of her. His dark hair was a soaked mess, his eyes bright and alive. "I… I'm glad you brought me here… You know me… A lot better than anyone else ever has… That kind of scares me sometimes." Stop talking, Lydia.

Stiles surveyed her for a long time before speaking. "I've always listened to what you've said," he said quietly. "No one ever understood how I could have been so sure that I cared so much for you when I rarely spoke to you but that was it. I listened to you. I knew what you wanted and what you liked and what you didn't. And… wow. That sounds so stalkerish." He gave a nervous chuckle and pushed his fingers through his tangling hair. "I just… I wanted you to be happy. Always. It's all I've ever wanted."

Lydia's breath caught. She hesitated momentarily before crossing the room to him until they were only inches apart. "Stiles," she said, her voice barely even a whisper. "I love you."

Stiles looked at her, surprise evident on his face, lips parting slowly to respond but before he could she pulled his face to her and kissed him. And he didn't have to say it back because she knew it. Of course she knew it. She felt it every time she caught him looking at her or felt his touch. She'd always know it.

I said "No one has to know what we do,"

His hands are in my hair, his clothes are in my room

And his voice is a familiar sound, nothing lasts forever

But this is getting good now

Lydia woke with a start, sitting up in bed. She grabbed a handful of her hair and caved in on herself, fighting back the emotion trying to get through. She'd cried enough over Stiles Stilinski, she didn't need to do it again. But she missed him. Oh, she missed him.

That night at the inn, their first night together, had been a landmark in their relationship. The first time she'd told him she loved him, the first time they'd been together, the first time he'd told her he loved her…. He'd said it to her over and over in a whisper until she'd fallen asleep in his arms.

She had needed him and he'd been there. Of course, he'd needed her too. They'd taken a hard night for both of them and turned it into something good.

Now all she had left were broken dreams of it.

Say you'll see me again even if it's just in your wildest dreams

In your wildest dreams

Even if it's just in your wildest dreams

In your wildest dreams