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Lydia wasn’t sure how she ended up with Chris and Allison.
It wasn’t something that just happened, a quick change over night. It was gradual. So slow that when Allison first kissed her, Chris behind them still mending the puncture wound on Lydia’s arm, she couldn’t find it in her to be surprised. She’d not really seen it coming but it didn’t surprise her.
There were too many nights where they had escaped a fight, bloodied and bruised, and made their way to one of Chris’s old hunter safe houses, pulling themselves together. They used to recoup with the rest of the Pack, feeding off each others’ energy and strength, but as they grew up and went off in their separate directions, their habits changed. Lydia and Allison had gone to school together; Chris had followed to try and mend the broken, vindictive hunters he knew all over the country. There was nothing left for any of them in Beacon Hills but ghosts. They still fought as a group when there was trouble that required all of them, but mostly it was just the three of them, fighting the latest creature that came through.
In those early days, Chris would pace around the room, full of energy left over from the fight, hands twitching with aborted punches, looking over his shoulder to ensure they were all safe. Allison would sit rigid, back straight and face blank as she cleaned her arrows or restrung her bow. Lydia would tend to all their wounds, stilling Chris with a light touch on the small of his back, pulling him back from the dark place within himself, from remembering the sins he was still trying to make up for. Allison would come out of her darkness slowly, muscles unraveling under Lydia’s gentle touches along her wounds.
Lydia had years of practice with coping, and it was always a delayed reaction for her. It wasn’t until the adrenaline drained from her system, until all the painfearurgency bled from her body that she’d crack, start slowly falling apart. But they were always there, Allison running her fingers through her hair and talking to her about inane things or Chris with a comforting arm around her shoulders, the smell of his cologne surrounding her in something that felt like home.
So it didn’t surprise her when Allison kissed her, still shaking with adrenaline, her hands flittering all over Lydia’s skin to make sure they hadn’t missed any wounds. Lydia pressed into the contact, lips opening around Allison’s soft tongue and warm hands. She had gasped when Chris kissed her neck, pulling back to look at him over her shoulder and seeing the same worry and affection she’d seen from him for years. She had slowly leaned toward him, needing to feel him against her skin. As he ran his hand over her cheek, fitting their mouths together, Allison kissed down the side of her neck and shoulder, over the newly bandaged skin. They’d lost themselves in each other, finding their way back to sanity with the pushtugpull of each touch.
After that, it all changed, but not as much as Lydia thought it would. There’d been hints before, touches as Chris taught Lydia to shoot a gun or as Allison taught her to aim a bow, giving her the hunter’s training she hadn’t grown up with. The looks they’d shared as they made breakfast in Allison and Lydia’s kitchen, Chris spending more time in their guest room than in his own apartment. She even saw the way Allison and Chris looked at each other, especially during battle, like they knew they were the only thing they had left in the world, like if they let go there’d be nothing left. They looked at Lydia like that, when they thought she wasn’t looking, both fiercely protective of her in ways no one ever had been. After all they’d been through and seen, after how many people they’d lost over the years, they’d turned to each other, never trusting anyone else enough to let them into the little tight knit unit they’d become.
Lydia had to admit that she loved the way they were with her, the way she felt with Chris on one side and Allison on the other, surrounded by their warmth and the slight smell of gunpowder.
They spent their post battle times lost in each other, Chris clenching his hands around Lydia’s leg as he thrust inside of her, Allison’s fingers running over her skin as she kissed along her skin. Sometimes Allison took control, tasting every part of Lydia’s body as she thrust her fingers into Lydia’s wetness, making Lydia writhe above her. On times like these, Chris would alternate between kissing Lydia and rubbing himself along her skin. She lost herself in them, Chris’s passion and Allison’s strength bringing her back from the edge of insanity each time they touched her skin.
But Lydia’s favorite moments were when things were calm, when they were sprawled on the couch watching TV, wrapped in each other’s arms and eating popcorn. Or when they’d go to the grocery store, Allison pushing the cart as Lydia checked items off their list, Chris picking up the bagels he knew Lydia loved but always forgot to buy. Nights like when Chris had officially moved in with them, when they’d played cards all night long as they ate the cake Allison had spent hours making from scratch.
Lydia even loved it when they fought, yelling at each other about combat tactics or whose turn it was to take out the trash. The anger radiating through Lydia’s body, the rage turning into passion as they all crashed together. The need to feel Chris’s stubble against her neck or Allison’s hair running through her fingers. They had become part of her, Lydia not sure where one of them ended and the other one began.
Lydia knew they shouldn’t make sense, or that others might not understand. But they’d been through too much for it to matter any more. They loved in the only way they knew how.
And that was enough for Lydia.