Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf.

A Quiet Morning

Lydia rolled over in her bed and froze momentarily, finally relaxing as she recognized the person next to her. This is new, she thought, smiling softly. And it really was, in more ways than one.

It was new having Stiles in her bed, as new as their relationship. But what was really new was the fact that nothing had happened. She snuggled her head further into the pillow as she watched the relaxed muscles of his back, wanting to trace them, but refraining.

Last night had been…difficult. The pack had fought hard, and they had won, but not without injury. Lydia's voice had been so hoarse she worried she would never speak again. And Stiles had taken more hits than was safe for a human, but Melissa had determined neither of them had any lasting damage. Still, Stiles had seen her safely home, and had hovered a bit, concern for her radiating from every inch of him. She'd smiled reassuringly and invited him in, knowing the sheriff wouldn't be home until the morning with all the paperwork, not wanting Stiles to be alone, not wanting to be alone. They'd sat in the kitchen for a while but had eventually migrated up to her room where they had put on an old film with the TV low and had let the soft murmurs and the presence of the other relax them.

And Stiles had kept his hands to himself. Lydia still marveled at that fact, and was ashamed that she was surprised. Even though it had more to do with her own past experiences (Jackson being only one part of them) than Stiles' character, she still felt guilty that she'd doubted.

Well…he hadn't completely kept his hands to himself. Or his lips. But then again, neither had she.

Lydia smirked and reached out to lightly trace Stiles' back through his flannel shirt. He didn't stir, so she kept tracing random patterns as she remembered his reaction when she'd pulled away, embarrassed at wanting to stop.

"It's fine, Lydia," Stiles had said, cupping her face to turn her eyes back to his. "Whatever happens, we should both want it. Anyway, it was a long night and we're both really tired." He'd winced as he moved his shoulder to get more comfortable on the bed. "And sore. We can wait. However long we need to wait, so that we're both ready." He'd grinned then, completely unashamed. "Besides, I've loved you for so long I'm not quite ready either."

She'd smiled at him. "Thank you, Stiles," she whispered. "I love you too."

His grin had widened further as he placed a soft kiss on her lips. "I'm happy just to be next to you tonight. If that's still okay."

In response, she'd snuggled further into his embrace, and she'd felt him kiss the top of her head. She'd placed a soft kiss in the hollow of his throat, and despite his sharp intake of breath, they'd both fallen into a deep, restful sleep.

Lydia was pulled from her musings by Stiles turning over to face her. He blinked sleepily at her and then smiled.

"Good morning."

"Good morning," she replied.

"I thought it might have been a dream," he confessed.

She smiled and reached out to stroke his cheek. "So did I until I woke up."

"Your voice is back to normal," he observed, grabbing her hand to place a brief kiss on her knuckles before entwining it with his own.

She nodded. "Yeah. My throat's still a little sore though."

Stiles leaned over and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her throat. Lydia's breath hitched and Stiles stilled before lying back against his pillow, his eyes meeting hers sheepishly.

"I really didn't mean to start anything this morning," he said. "I just…wanted to."

She smiled back at him. "I don't mind, Stiles."

He grinned, but made no move to kiss her. Instead, he stretched and groaned as his bruised body protested. "One of these days, we're going to be too old for this stuff."

She nodded in agreement. "Yes. We were too young, and one day we'll be too old."

Stiles frowned at the melancholy in her voice. "But right now," he said. "I think the time is just right."

"Oh?"

"Yep," he replied, popping the p. "It's especially right for breakfast. We should get you some tea for your throat too."

Lydia stared at Stiles as he got up from her bed. Was this what it could be like, she wondered. Was this what her life could be like? Fighting side-by-side with him as she had done for years now, coming home to be held in his arms, to enjoy his kisses, waking to his presence in her bed, in her life, and having his care and concern directed at her, being able to direct hers back at him. Was this what her future could be?

Stiles paused in the doorway of the bathroom when he noticed she hadn't moved. "Lydia? You okay? Do you want to use the bathroom first?"

"Huh? Oh. No, Stiles. You go ahead. I was just thinking."

"Good things, I hope," he quipped as he stepped into the bathroom and closed the door.

"About you? Always," she whispered.