Allison was sure that Lydia was bordering on a catatonic state. The banshee hadn't moved from the cold bathroom floor, the hard tiles leaving her bare legs pale and tinged with blue. Allison was crying, tears running down her cheeks as she sniffed and let out gasping breaths, trying in vain to talk to her best friend. She was confused and terrified, she didn't know what was going on. She didn't know what was happening.

"Lydia'', Allison's voice trembled, "Lyd, please, come on - you need to get up, we need to go''.

Her breath came out harshly but her hands were gentle as took hold of Lydia's limp wrists, tugging at her, urging her to stand.
Lydia stayed silent, her eyes unfocused as she stared at the floor. Her curls seemed limp, colour drained from her face.

"Lydia, you have to move for me, you're scaring me Lydia'', Allison was sobbing now, strands of her hair sticking to her damp cheeks, "Please Lydia, please''.

The strawberry blonde remained still, her hand falling to her lap like a dead weight as Allison finally released her and fumbled in her pocket, looking for her cell.
It rang once, twice, three times, "Come on Scott, please, please pick up'', seven times, eight times, nine times…

After then minutes had passed, she had called every one of her friends a handful of times. Her phone beeped angrily at her, announcing that it's battery was dying.
Allison slumped down the wall, landing beside Lydia on the tiles. She took her friends hands in her own, trying so hard to keep her tears at bay. She sniffed heavily, taking a deep breath that was supposed to calm her down. It didn't work.

"Lydia, we have to go now, okay? Somethings happened, hasn't it?'' Still no response.

Allison bit down on her lip to keep herself from screaming out in frustration. Lydia was scaring her, she hadn't moved an inch since she had last uttered Stiles' name.

"Lydia, Lyd - we need to get in the car, okay? You're going to stand up for me, right? We need to go get Stiles''.

At the sound of the boy's name, Lydia lifted her head, tears in her eyes and her lips parted in silent horror. Allison let out a gasp of relief as her friends gaze met her own and Lydia squeezed her hand tightly.

"Stiles'', Lydia's voice was a choked sob, the colour rushing back to her face as tears fell from glassy eyes.

Allison nodded urgently, scrambling to her feet before pulling Lydia unsteadily to her own, "We need to go, okay?'' The brunette led her friend out of the bathroom and through the empty house, their rushed footsteps echoing off of the walls.
When they got to Allison's car, Lydia's mind was reeling and Allison was frantic. They didn't know where to go, or what was happening - they didn't know what to do except drive and find their friends.

The orange street lights flashed in their eyes, illuminating the inside of the car over and over again. Frost was etched on the corners of the windows and Allison eyed it warily. The roads were slick with fallen rain and Lydia was beside her, her head in her hands.

"I can't feel him'', she murmured into her palms. She was silent as Allison glanced quickly from the road to her friend.

"You can't feel who, Lydia?'' The girl whispered, her lips set into a worried line as she tried to make sense of her friends words.

"Him, Stiles. I can't feel him, he's not there'', Lydia's voice was growing in volume and more frantic as she spoke every word.

Allison gaped at the banshee, not understanding what she was implying. But her words struck fear in her chest and she took a deep breath before putting her foot down. The car sped up and so did the tension that flooded through the two girls.

As they neared the centre of town, traffic grew slightly busier and students they knew from school called out to them as they sat impatiently at the traffic lights. Allison managed to smile tightly and wave in return, but Lydia's gaze was set dead on that crimson light, waiting for it to change. Her lip was quivering as she tried to hold it together. She wiped clumsily at her now bare eyes, hiding the evidence of her tears.
Allison reached over the gearbox, finding Lydia's hand in the darkness and squeezing gently. She wasn't sure if she was reassuring her friend, or herself. Nevertheless, the two girls clung to each other desperately, sharing the night's silence as they pulled away from the green light with more speed than they should have.
When Allison's cell rang and lit up with Scott's name, the girl sobbed in relief and her foot on the accelerator faltered as she passed the phone to Lydia with shaking hands.

"Scott?!''

Lydia yelped down the phone, punching the 'loudspeaker' button with her thumb as she shared uneasy glances with Allison. The reception was weak and the boys words were crackly and hard to understand.

"Lyd- is All-son with you?''

"Yes! Yeah, we're in the car, we're coming - what's going on, is everyone okay? Is Stiles -''

"Come - Stiles house, we're all - he-. Y'need to -urry''.

Allison let a soft cry as she listened to her boyfriend's words, his voice was crackling and he sounded rushed, out of breath.

"Scott, what happened?!'' Allison was desperate to hear that everyone was okay, it was fine, that there was no reason to panic. She bit her lip, tasting blood, and prayed for Scott to tell her the words she and Lydia needed to hear.

"Ju- hurry. Lydia?'' Scott sounded uncertain, off balance and as if he wasn't telling them something. Tears ran from Lydia's eyes again and she felt sick to her stomach.

"Yeah, Scott?''

"Did you scream?''

The girls whipped round to face each other with aghast expressions on their faces. Was someone close to dying? Lydia felt her breath stop and she almost choked on the air that painfully breathed back in. Her world felt like it was underwater, the lights swam in front of her eyes and everything sounded distorted, far away - dreamlike.

"No, no Scott - no, why? Is everyone okay? Is Stiles - Scott, where's Stiles?''

"He's here - ''

Those were the last words they understood before the line broke up and the alpha's words became unintelligible. The cell beeped at them for a few seconds, the red light in the corner flashing angrily. Then, the device faded to black.
Allison swung the wheel furiously and Lydia held on to the door handle as the car veered off of the main road and towards the Stilinski residence.

Lydia was in a blind panic as she leant her head against the cold glass of the window. Why couldn't she feel Stiles, why had Scott asked her if she had screamed? She hadn't - but she felt like she was going to.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to make a noise as the tears came freely, rolling down her flushed cheeks like mini tidal waves.
Was she supposed to have screamed for Stiles - was Stiles hurt? Lydia wracked her brain, trying to think of the last words she spoke to him. Utter dread and desperation struck her as she couldn't remember. They had been silent towards each other for weeks, their movements around each other awkward and stilted. What if the last time they kissed was before Stiles walked away from her, out of her room as he told her he loved her - and she didn't say it back.

Lydia was gasping for breaths between sobs as she told Allison to please, please drive quicker.

The world moved in slow motion and without colour, like an bad, old movie. The front door of Stiles' house flew open and hit the wall behind with a thud that Lydia didn't hear. Allison was close behind her, calling out to her but all the banshee could hear was a loud, constant ringing in her ears.
The hallway tilted as she stumbled through it, holding out grasping hands to grab walls that weren't really there. When she entered the living room and slammed into Isaac, the room stopped spinning and she could hear again.

She emerged from her underwater world with a shuddering breath and Isaac holding her by the shoulders. He stood tall before her, his hands gentle and his words hushed. The rest of the pack were littered around the room behind, but she couldn't see him, she couldn't see Stiles. Where was Stiles?
The girl realised that she must have said this aloud because Isaac answered her with soft but urgent words that seemed practiced and rehearsed.

"He's okay, Lydia, I promise, Scott, Derek and I took away all the pain. All of it, I swear - it looks worse than it is -''

She heard both Isaac and Allison call out to her as she tore away from her friends embrace, twisting her much smaller body around him as she stood in the middle of the room. In the middle of a hospital ward.
Scott was by the table, covered in dried blood and an equally crimson soaked towel in his hand. His eyes were tired and his face was drawn, but when Allison fell into his arms and peppered kisses across his cheeks and neck, he smiled and sighed in relief, his arms twisting around her frame. He met Lydia's eyes over her shoulder, a look of regret and sadness washing over his strong features.

What was happening?

Derek was kneeling on the floor in front of groggy looking Malia, tweezers in his hand as he gently pulled out needle length teeth from the coyotes arm. She hissed and groaned, but stayed still as the older wolf hushed her soothingly.
Kira was leaning over the couch, tending to the person lying across it. Lydia held her breath, taking a step closer.
Bloody towels and bowls filled with ruby stained water sat at her feet, along with a familiar checked shirt. The plaid material was ripped, slashed - buttons hanging off by threads. She held back the gasp she wanted to release. She had worn that very shirt before, after waking up in Stiles' bed, his arms wrapped around her, pulling her into his warm body.

Lydia's hand flew to her mouth, trembling there as took in the sight before her.
Kira had moved, meeting her eyes with her own watery pair. She walked away with her head bent, taking the stained towels into the kitchen. The room was quiet.

Stiles lay on the couch, his chest bare and still damp from Kira's administrations. Five red and angry looking scars ran across one side of his ribs and twisted around his side. The skin was swollen and raised, the welts resembling whip lashes. But Lydia knew what they were, she had a matching set of her own.
Her lip quivered as Stiles sat up, his face twisting in pain. His hair was a mess and a nasty, purple bruise graced the side of his forehead, covering the constellation of freckles and almost meeting his doe shaped eyes.
Eyes that were gazing up at her with such expectations.

The boy moved again and the entire room moved with him, rushing to his aid as he held out his hand and shook his head furiously. His voice was hoarse but determined as he told all of his friends that he was fine, he could manage.

He stood before Lydia and she was transfixed in horror as she watched the scars bend and twist with his lithe body movements. Little scratches marred his face and arms and she wanted to kiss everyone of them.
She flew at the boy, crashing into his chest before she raised her tiny fits and pushed at his shoulders, her face twisted in hurt as she sobbed. Her attempts at pushing him away from her were weak, she had no intention of hurting him and she swore at the thought of him being mere inches away from her.
But she was a hurricane of emotions, half traumatised girl and half banshee. Her little hands beat his shoulders half heartedly and Stiles bit his lip to stop his own tears from falling. His little fucking firecracker, a girl full of everything he adored in the world.

"Why can't you do as you're fucking told Stiles Stilinski?''

Her words were supposed to be full of anger and rage but they were softened as she wept. Stiles merely shrugged, nervously lifting one side of his lips into a smile as Lydia finally gave in and threw herself into his arms. He caught her, just like he always did, his arms engulfing her.
Her tears fell onto his bare chest, her arms around his neck and her lips pressed to a bruise on his shoulder. The boy held her so tightly against him that she was lifted off of her feet, the toes of her shoes barely sweeping the floor. He tangled one hand into her mane of fiery hair, his fingers delving into the soft curls. Stiles pulled her up higher against him, just so he could burrow his face into the crook of her neck.

"You're an idiot, Stiles'', Lydia's voice was hoarse and cracked after crying for so long and it tore Stiles' heart in two. But she whispered the words into his skin, leaving her lips pressed there in a kiss that their friends chose not to see.
Stiles gave a watery chuckle in response, deciding not to argue with her, he was happy to hold her, happy that Lydia to be back in his arms - wounds and all.

"M'your idiot'', he mumbled into her hair, his thumb stroking the fabric that covered the small of her back.

Her chuckle was nearly a cough as she laughed through her tears, her nose pressed into his skin; skin so familiar to her that she could map out his moles and scars with her eyes closed.
They heard, rather than seen, their friends shuffle quietly out of the room, closing the door to the living room softly behind them before Malia accidentally slammed the front door shut.
She could be heard outside, whispering her apologies to the choruses of 'jesus christ' and 'really, Malia?'.

The interruption made Lydia lift her head from Stiles' chest, but that was as far away as she would move. His fingers were still stroking her back, grazing the nape of her neck. She craned her head, looking into his eyes with concern shining in her own. She shook her head sadly, her bottom lip falling into a full pout that Stiles found unbearably cute.

"I'm okay, Lydia, I promise'', Stiles answered her silent question with a voice full of sincerity. He swept a stray curl away from her face, his thumb tracing the arch of her eyebrow before setting to rub her cheek. She leaned into his touch.

She couldn't argue with him, Lydia couldn't even summon the strength to yell at him a little more. He looked like he'd had enough for one night, besides, Lydia knew in her heart and head that she would have done the exactly the same as Stiles had.
The girl smiled tiredly, the relief that had crashed over her at seeing Stiles alive and standing at taken it's toll on her body.
"Let's get you cleaned up'', She placed a kiss to his chest and Stiles closed his eyes at the sensation before taking her offered hand and allowing himself to be led out of the room and up the stairs.
The bathroom light clicked on with a harsh intensity and both teenagers squinted at the brightness. Lydia was quick to the sink full of warm water and she fetched the first aid kit from under the cabinet. Stiles merely raised his eyebrows at her efficiency and knowledge of his home.

"Are we playing nurse and patient?'' Stiles cracked a joke in hopes to lighten the situation, he couldn't remember the last time he was alone with Lydia and he was nervous. She made him weak, unsure. He smirked at her with his usual playfulness in his golden eyes.
His voice, although nothing more than a murmur, seemed so loud in the otherwise quiet house. Lydia dipped the washcloth she had found into the basin, allowing the sound of splashing water to fill the room. Finally, she looked up at him, disinfectant in hand.

"You could say that, just make sure it's not a regular occurrence'', her eyebrows arched as if she dared him to defy her, but the words were softened with a small smile that played on her lips. It was timid and unsure and it relaxed Stiles - she seemed as nervous as he felt.

He let out a hiss when the spray hit his chest, bubbling into the open skin on his chest and arms. Small scratches covered him, some criss-crossing over each other. Stiles wasn't sure where they had came from, but as Lydia started picking pieces of gravel and dirt out of them, he began to get an idea.

"I'm sorry'', Lydia whispered, looking up at him as she paused her actions, the warm cloth resting on his chest. Her eyes were wide and so green and so full of goddamn emotion that Stiles almost wept at the sight.

"No, no, it's okay - just stings a little'', he gave her a reassuring smile, "keeping going''.

Lydia returned his smile with a tilt of her lips, her eyes dropping to his bare chest as her cheeks flushed. Her hand was unsteady as it swept across his skin with gentle strokes. The warm water washed away the solution she had doused his wound with and the sensations became welcoming - his body warmed and he leant back, bracing himself against the counter as she worked over him.

When the cloth finally ran clear of blood, Lydia patted him dry and placed gentle fingers on the bruise that dusted his temple. She frowned, standing on her toes to press her lips there almost fervently. When she was satisfied her kissed had somewhat healed it, she brought her attention to the claw marks that hurt to look at.

Lydia's fingers traced around the jagged edges that marred the otherwise soft skin of Stiles ribs. The boy held so still, that Lydia was sure he had stopped breathing. There was no washcloth between her hands and his skin now, nothing to dilute or distract from her touch.
Her gentle ministrations continued round his side, following the red ribbons that already seemed to be healing. As if reading her thoughts, Stiles coughed, clearing his throat.

"Uh, the guys did a good job. They cleaned me up, took away all the pain and, you know, stuff''.

Lydia smiled to herself at Stiles' inapt description of being healed by three werewolves. His words were vague and distracted, his eyes following the movements her hand made. She rested her palm on his stomach, his abdominal muscles tightening under her touch. The girl swallowed heavily, staring at her hand on his skin.

"I'm really glad you're here'', Stiles murmured, his lips soft and pouty and he gazed down at Lydia with hooded eyes.

"Me, too", Lydia pursed her lips and willed herself not to cry again.

That was it, that was all that was needed. There was no big reunion or speeches and apologies, they knew exactly what each other meant with those simple words. Both knew how much the last month had shattered them, how it had tested their friendship and tried to rip them apart, It almost had.

Stiles brought one hand up to wipe away a lone tear that Lydia hadn't even felt. His thumb brushed her lip and settled on the curve of her jaw, rubbing soothing circles there. Her hand was burning his stomach, he was so aware of her touching him, almost pressed against him. So, when Lydia's hand started to move, Stiles sucked in a harsh breath, his eyes trained intently on her own.

Lydia teased her small hand across his stomach, feeling the hard muscles underneath. Freckled skin, white scars and soft hairs that started in a thin trail and led to the button of his jeans - her fingers followed it like a treasure map.
Stiles felt his lips part and his eyes darkened to the molten chocolate that Lydia had became so accustomed to. They were silent, slowly leaning into each other without realising it. Their hips met, trapping Lydia's hand between their bodies, her fingers hooked into the top of his jeans. She revelled in the feel of the boy's warm skin, the feel of his naked chest against her.
The arm that Stiles used to lean against the worktop suddenly snuck it's way to her waist, his trembling hand finding the familiar dip in her body.

Their noses grazed and bumped into each others, their eyes flickering closed before they realised they needed to see each other, they wanted to look.
Lydia licked her lips in anticipation and Stiles almost came undone. With her face void of make up, he could see the freckles that dusted the bridge of her nose, her long eyelashes that looked almost bronze in the bright light.

He was hesitant, she was shy - both remembering how long it had been since their lips had last met. It felt new again, unfamiliar.
Stiles was scared to make any sudden movements, he didn't dare breath in fear of ruining the moment. He held her like she was made of glass and Lydia could sense the reverence in his touch. She almost laughed at the notion, considering he was the one who had almost been torn in half by a werewolf.
But god, the way he looked at her. Stiles' eyes were shining down at her like pools of liquid gold, framed by those beautiful dark lashes that Lydia was jealous of. He held so much emotion in those eyes, she could read him like a book.
And she knew what she saw there, it was the same way he always looked at her.

When Stiles tilted his head down towards her own, it was painfully slow and precise in its movements. But Lydia seen it happening and her breath was stolen from her. Her stomach fluttered like a fourteen year olds, butterflies and hummingbirds and entirely new species erupting there - she almost giggled hysterically at how nervous she was, how happy she was.

Then she forgot all the words in the world.

Stiles took her top lip between his own, slowly, carefully, hesitantly, nervously - and before Lydia could register her lips on hers- he pulled back.
He only moved away an inch but Lydia almost sobbed at the loss of him. He searched her eyes for a look of regret or something that would tell him she didn't want this. But he only saw hunger there, desperation and little golden flecks among green that reminded him of glitter.

When his lips met hers for the second time, he took her bottom lip between his. It was an experimental touch that lasted for a few seconds. When Stiles pulled away again, it wasn't for more than a heartbeat. His hand came up to join the other, cradling her face in his palms as he crushed his lips to hers with more enthusiasm than before.
Stiles regained his confidence as Lydia responded and opened up underneath him. He swallowed her moans and stumbled into her as she reached up to find her favourite spot around his shoulders, one hand in his hair as she tugged him down to her.
He groaned and did as she requested, stooping down lower so she could nip and suck at his lip. The girl moved impatiently against him and his body and wounds screamed at him to slow down, to be careful.
But Lydia's kisses were louder.

Stiles ached to lift her into his arms, to feel her fully against him - to perch her on the edge of the sink and feel her legs wrapped around his waist.
But no, not there, not like that.

"Bed'', Stiles' voice was a gasp, like a man erupting from the depths of an ocean, his lips were glossy and swollen - and still attached to Lydia's neck.

The girl arched into him, dipping her head back to allow him the access he wanted. Peppering kisses across her skin, he revelled in her moans and whimpers, kissing up to her jaw and drawing her earlobe between his lips. He nipped at her.

"Bed'', he repeated, panting hot air into her lips. Their noses grazed and Lydia placed quick, feverish kisses on his parted mouth as she nodded.

"Bed'', she agreed.