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Pre Season 6A
(AKA Where's My Love Part 2)
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Stiles Stilinski knows that he should not be here, The moon is out, in it’s heartening (less threatening) crescent form. It’s dim glow falls onto the ground of Beacon Hills and the only person standing outside. Stiles looks up, allowing his face to bath in the faded natural light. Should he do this? Absolutely not, it’s midnight! Does he want to? Hell, yes.
He’s been dragging her out of bed a couple of times every week, anyway. This surely couldn’t do anymore harm than it already has.
So, Stiles approaches the front door of the Martin’s household to wake up his (only) favourite strawberry blonde. He contemplates whether he should knock or just call her down. But then he remembers something Lydia said about her mother attending some sort of teacher event that will go on late into the night. With that fact in mind, Stiles lifts his hand to knock on the door.
But he doesn’t make any contact with the wooden surface, because, suddenly, the door swings wide open to reveal Lydia with her hair lazily brushes and her eyes fading to go back to sleep. Dropping her hand from holding the door, she continues to ruffle her loose grey sweater. Stiles’s eyes momentarily drop to scan her bare legs, until they make their way past her pajama shorts with laces ends. “Come on,” Lydia mumbles, grabbing her keys and heading out of the door. Stiles is a little confused.
After she’s done locking the front door, Lydia grabs Stiles’s hand and begins to lead him back to the jeep. Stiles, behind her, opens his mouth to question how she knew he was there but finds himself closing his mouth again. She drops his hand when she reaches the passenger seat door and promptly, Stiles rushes to the driver’s seat. Dressed properly in his sweater and jeans, Stiles ignites the car and begins to pull out the Martin driveway.
Lydia rolls her shoulders and neck trying to get rid of the sleep lingering in her. To help her, she flicks on the radio, allowing the latest pop songs to fill the old jeep. Stiles shifts the gear, looking at Lydia. He momentarily looks at the empty, straight road before sparing a glance at Lydia. “How did you know?” Stiles chuckles, handing her his drunken cup of coffee he bought from a random coffee shop that was open at this ungodly hour.
Sharing is something the two have found themselves doing more of. Food is the most recurring one. Sometimes, because he’s who he is, Stiles will forget to bring his lunch and isn’t really in the mood for cafeteria food, so Lydia will offer him her food. Stiles would waste a lot of time in insisting that Lydia get a bigger share, and then once convinced, will pester hera about cutting the food up properly. Other situations would be that, like the night right now, Lydia will crash at his place and end up borrowing one of his articles of clothing.
“Do what?” Lydia asks, taking a sip from his cup.
“How did you know I was there .. waiting?” Stiles elaborates.
Lydia stills, bringing the cup of coffee down. Tilting her head to the side, she contemplates what alerted her of his presence. “Did you not call me?” Lydia asks, turning to look at him.
Stiles chuckles, sparing her a glance. He shakes his head, “No.”
Lydia sticks out her bottom lip. Then she shrugs, answering, as well as teasing, “I felt something. Must be ‘our unspoken’, Stiles.”
Stiles licks his teeth behind his sealed lips, nodding in approval of her sneaky comment. Then he shrugs a shoulder, looking at her quickly. “Maybe it’s our emotional tether.”
“You’re really liking that, aren’t you?” Lydia laughs, continuing on with her drinking the coffee he gave her.
“It did save my life, once,” Stiles comments, giving her a knowing look.
Lydia lifts her fingers and pushes them against his cheek, making him face the road. “After what we’ve been through, a car crash isn’t my ideal death. Eyes on the road, Stilinski.”
Stiles takes a turn and Lydia finally questions their activities, “What is it this time, Stiles?”
“A report for a missing person was filed like an hour ago. Said the kid disappeared in the woods? That’s all I got before my dad realised I may be listening in,” Stiles explains, as he comes to a halt at the traffic light. Fluently, he plucks the coffee cup out of Lydia’s hand and drinks out of it.
Lydia rests her head against the headrest and looks at him. She admires the sharpness of his jaw and the constellation of his dusted moles. What she appreciates is his – sometimes snarky – sense of humour, his delightful laughs and genius mind.
Wow. . haven’t they grown up a lot? Lydia Martin three years ago did not really know who this Mieczyslaw ‘Stiles’ Stilinski is, but now, she finds herself at peace when hearing the name. Now, she craves for his comfort and warmth. She looks forward to their pointless talks, that do not involve the supernatural. Yet, she yearns for another late night adventure with him. Except, this is the twenty-fourth time in the past two months. And she’s finally getting some sleep – damn the part of her who’s actually enjoying this moment between them.
Lydia startles herself out of her thoughts. Clearing her throat, she kicks off her shoes before turning around to grab all the pillows and blankets Lydia set in his car. She put them there after the fourth time he woke her up in the middle of the night to go on some misleading adventure. Stiles didn’t really object to shit, and sometimes, they’d just park up and spend time together, to make up for all the lost time.
“Stiles,” Lydia drags out, looking over from the window to him, slowly. Stiles raises his eyebrows in question, somewhat already aware of her answer. “Come on, I want food, then we’ll go.”
“Lyds, they’ll leave the crime scene and then –”
“– your dad’s the Sheriff, you’ll easily get the inside scoop. Please, can we just get some food. I didn’t eat,” Lydia convinces.
Upon hearing that she hasn’t eaten, Stiles takes a left instead of the right, sighing. After a while, he bursts, “You need to eat!”
Lydia frowns, sitting straighter in her seat. She’s about to fight back but she sees the worry laced in his features as he frowns, trying to focus on his driving. “I’m fine, seriously. It’s sometimes I get too caught up in work or we have some supernatural errands to run.”
“That’s it, you’re having dinner with me, every day,” Stiles finalises immediately.
“You can’t make me –”
“Lyds, shut up,” Stiles interrupts, pulling into a fast food drive thru.
“We’ll have a number five and six, please,” Stiles mumbles after greeting the worker.
Minutes later, they’re driving out of the chain, onto the road, directly towards their crime scene.
“Your dad’s still there?” Lydia asks, taking her burger and unwrapping it.
As she sinks her teeth into the unhealthy, greasy treat, Stiles begins to explain, slurping his milkshake, “Yes. I think there’s a search party already out there.”
Lydia swallows the material forming in her throat, understanding exactly why he needs her. “So, you want me to just come and make sure that no one is going to die?”
Stiles nods, finally pulling over to the side. He looks at Lydia and motions for her to get out of the car. Lydia frowns, concentrating on eating more. Is that the only reason he drags her out of bed?
“I figured, Martin,” Stiles says, grabbing his backpack from underneath his seat, “that if I drag you out, I’ll have more time to be blessed in your presence.”
Lydia’s chest tightens in the completely endearing way that it should when the love of your life appreciates the time they’re spending with you. Of course, Lydia Martin is in love with Stiles Stilinski.
How could she not be? He’s saved her lives countless amount of times and he’s always there for her. And if you want it to get anymore spiritual, Lydia and Stiles are anchors – moreover, they’re each other’s emotional tether. They can pull each other out of the depths of darkness, to wash them in sunlight when needed. Brushing death is all they’ll ever do in danger ; with them, death isn’t an option.
Lydia smiles, and as soon as she does, it seems like Stiles spots something, so he spastically tries to duck behind is open car door. “Oh, fuck!” Stiles cusses, ducking, looking through the window. Lydia straightens her back and stretches her neck to see what Stiles is so afraid of. She notices flashlights being shone their way and guesses that it’s the police and the search party.
“We should leave,” Lydia suggests, knowingly, looking over at Stiles. “And they can easily see your feet, goofball.”
Stiles looks at Lydia with a look of disbelief. Whilst climbing back in, he comments, “Thanks for that, Lyds. Truly needed a reminder of how subtle I am.”
Lydia giggles, getting more comfortable in her seat. “Okay, Stiles, lets go back home.”
“Uh, no,” Stiles declines, starting the ignition. He takes a uturn, abruptly may Lydia add, before rushing towards where a line of cars are parked. “None of them are going to here, lets just make sure that we don’t miss anything.”
Lydia sighs, looking over at him with an expression of disapproval. “Stiles, lets go home. I’ll watch Stars Wars with you!” She totally isn’t going to watch Star Wars with him.
Stiles jumps in his seat, looking at her with wide eyes and a parted mouth. He whips his head back to concentrate on the road, with his hands tapping excitedly way on the sterring wheel. Lydia Martin just offered – bribed – him to watch Star Wars in exchange for not investigating this ‘missing person’ case.
But, “No.”
Immediately, Lydia exclaims, not believing her ears, “Stiles!”
“Nope, we’re going to investigate this, what if it’s some sort of –”
“Who are you and what have you done with Mieczyslaw Stilinski?” Lydia asks, leaning towards him, to inspect his side profile.
“I can’t believe Scott told you that,” Stiles mumbles, parking a little away from the police in the woods.
“Well, he didn’t tell me,” Lydia begins to explain. “He squealed it when you both were playing a very intense game of COD.”
“I won that game,” Stiles adds, looking over at her and winking.
“Oh, cause that’s the most important thing right now,” Lydia nods, handing him his burger. He quickly unwraps it and munches on it. He hasn’t had anything good for a long time, don’t blame the poor kid.
Stiles leans over and grabs the spare blanket and pillow at Lydia’s feet. He unfolds the blanket and pulls it over him and sets the pillow behind his back. Lydia gets comfortable, too. Like she does every other night, she shifts so her back is resting against the door and sings her legs onto Stiles’s lap.
As if on cue, Stiles’s hand drops to rest at her ankles, as he begins to trace patterns onto the bare skin. His eyes are trained on the police cars in the wood a few metres away from them, so he’s surely doing this absentmindedly.
Lydia’s skin tingles and her stomach erupts with butterflies. Her eyes become droopy as the soft touch of his calloused fingers prompts her to fall asleep. “You only won that game because I saved your ass in it.”
Stiles splutters a laugh, looking at her. “Yeah, because sitting on my lap and blocking my view whilst I’m playing is the way to win COD!”
Lydia blushes at the reminder of her actions. That’s exactly what happened.
Stiles wasn’t listening to her, nor was Scott. Malia had texted her that she’s done with studying and wants to head out for food, to which Lydia had agreed, adding that the boys will be joining them, as well. But the two of them were so engrossed by the game that it was practically impossible for Lydia’s words to reach their ears. So, knowing Stiles and his most effective method of distraction, Lydia plopped herself onto his lap. She tried snatching the controller out of his hands, but it didn’t work. Next, she took over the controls, with Stiles’s arms wrapped around her, still holding the controller.
Scott was laughing, as they fought each other – like an old married couple, he thought to himself. Lydia was swearing and that prompted Stiles to swear. Scott did not like the words coming out of his friends’ mouths, such as ‘fuck’ and ‘asshole’. Instead of complaining, he laughed it off. Eventually, he pulled Lydia off Stiles and led her to his car. Stiles thought this meant victory for him, but an ice-cream bowl to the face later that night (from his favourite strawberry blonde) proved this wrong.
“I still saved your ass and made you win that game,” Lydia insists, chewing on another bite of cheese, bread and other things.
“Well, I saved your ass from Peter,” Stiles shoots back.
They both grow quiet at this. What? Lydia thinks to herself.
She looks at him, waiting for him to further explain, but he stares at her feet on his laps and then begins to engrave patterns in more quickly. “Stiles?” Lydia softly calls, leaning forward. He doesn’t respond. Lydia swings her feet off his lap and shuffles closer to him. Lydia ets onto her knees on the seat. She leans over and cups his cheek. Stiles, instinctively, leans into her palm, enjoying the warmth.
He shudders, then takes a deep breath. “I, uh, when Peter bit you that night. . I sorta got your cute little ass out of there and also offered to. . uhm. . .sacrifice myself if it saes you .”
“Oh,” Lydia simply replies. A few moments pass. “Stiles?” He lifts his head. “Thank you,” Lydia genuinely thanks, her eyes boring into his.
Stiles coughs, “Yeah, of course. You would’ve done the same thing.”
Lydia pulls a smile, stroking his cheek with her thumb. “Well, if it makes it even, I went into your head to get rid of the Nogitsune. Didn’t really do me any justice, but whatever.”
“WHAT?” Stiles exclaims, moving a little away from her. “You did what? Lydia!” He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and then objecting, “You can’t go around going into people’s heads! You’re human! It drains your energy and on top of that, you have high chances of bleeding from it!”
Lydia cocks her head to the side. “Well, it was my first nose-bleed, surprisingly.”
“You bled for me?” Stiles yells, in the confined area.
“You almost died for me!” Lydia argues back.
“Well, then if you stop then I stop!” Stiles offers, but lies on his half of the deal.
“Oh, are you seriously bullshitting me, right now? We both know that’s not going to happen,” Lydia informs, very knowingly. Stiles licks his lips and looks away, very well aware of the fact of what’s happening.
Lydia tilts her head to the side. “Come on, Stiles. Let’s go home.”
They don’t exchange a huge share of words. Stiles throws the blanket to Lydia and begins to drive them home.
Fifteen minutes later, Lydia realises that his house is what is decided on who’s house they’ll be spending the night. This is all a regular occurrence. Mostly, it’s always Stiles’s house they stay at, just because his pillow is there. If they’re well prepared, then Lydia’s house is an option. But ever since the idea of getting pillows and blankets, it doesn’t really matter where they end up because Stiles’s pillow is always in the jeep.
They softly get out of the car and Lydia grabs Stiles’s hand as they enter the house. She leads them up the stairs and into the room.
They brush their teeth together, Stiles standing behind Lydia. They make eye contact a couple of times, which usually has Stiles’s cheeks flushed and Lydia’s heart skipping beats. Stiles’s hands brush over heres that are gripping the sink. Playfully, he ducks under the gap between her arm and body and leans down to the sink to wash his mouth and clean up. So, Lydia takes this opportunity to squeeze his throat until he pleaded. Before he left to go warm the bed, Stiles poked at Lydia’s ticklish sides, making her yelp.
Since, at this point, Lydia was done with brushing her teeth, she chased him to his bed. Stiles jumped onto his comforter, trying to find a hiding place under it, but failed as Lydia jumped on him, and tangled her legs with his.
She squeezed her legs together, not allowing his to escape. “Lyds!” Stiles squirms, chuckling. He tries to shuffle, but the banshee’s got a grip – also, he isn’t really putting in any effort.
“Okay, okay!” Stiles gives in. Lydia’s legs relax but they don’t move, just in case he is lying – also, she enjoys the contact of their skin and the warmth he provides. She likes having him this close to her. “Tell me a story.”
Lydia looks at him surprised. She rolls her eyes. This is typical Stiles. So, she begins, “There was a prince and his name was Sieczyslaw Milinski, but everyone calls him, Miles.”
“That’s so fucking creative,” Stiles interjects, sarcastically giving his feedback.
“Shut up, asshole, you’re interrupting a future Fields Medal recipient,” Lydia shoots back.
And after that, Stiles shuts up. After a while, Lydia hears Stiles snores, which are gradually getting louder. Also, Lydia’s heart flutters and heart pounds because Stiles has pressed his face against her neck, and wrapped his arms around her waist. Their legs are still tangled together and you won’t know where one begins and the other ends.
She’s worried the frantic beating of her heart will wake him up. . but slowly, her heart’s rate falls into step. So, Lydia wraps her arms around the love of her life, cherishing these moments she spends with him – although it’s crazy to wake someone up to go to the wood in the middle of the night.