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By the end of August, Lydia’s so fucking ready to move down to Stanford. Not only to start college, though she’s happy to have something that actually challenges her again (senior year had been particularly boring school-wise, the teachers expecting the senioritis most of her class displays. Keeping her valedictorian spot is almost too easy).
But finally it’s the end of August and she’s getting the fuck out of dodge and heading to Stanford. The morning she’s supposed to move she’s finishing taking boxes out to the U-Haul when Stiles’ Jeep pulls up into her driveway and he jumps out.
“What’s up?” she asks, setting the box down.
“Coming with you,” he tells her, and she stops what she’s doing, looks at him with raised eyes.
“You’re not supposed to move until Saturday.”
Stiles shrugs, avoiding eye contact with her.
“Something happened. I’m ready now.”
That’s when she notices the distinct lack of a second car pulling up, and…
“Where’s Derek?”
And then Stiles looks at her, a hardened expression and eyes filling with tears, and oh. ‘Something happened’.
“You…wanna talk about it?” she asks, even as she glances toward the house again because she’s still got a few more boxes to go. Stiles visibly swallows, then shakes his head and takes a deep breath.
“No,” he tries, roughly, then, after clearing his throat, “No. I’m uh, here to help you finish up. I’ve got a bunch of my stuff, and Dad’s bringing the rest down on Saturday.”
Lydia is relieved; she’s gonna get him to talk one way or another, but later, when they’re not in the middle of moving. Moving is stressful enough on its own.
An hour and a half later they’re on their way, Lydia driving her car with her mom, her dad driving the U-Haul behind her, Stiles bringing up the rear in his Jeep. As they pass by the “Welcome to Beacon Hills” sign, she lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding in, tension releasing from every part of her body.
Finally.
*
They end up back in Beacon Hills for the first time three weeks after classes have started when Scott calls, yelling about some a hydra. Lydia feels her shoulders pull tight when she hears Scott’s ringtone on Stiles’ phone as they’re both sat in the living room, doing homework, and when Stiles tells her what’s up, already out of his chair and heading to his bedroom to grab an overnight bag she just feels tired.
She still goes with him, and within five hours of them arriving the hydra’s been banished without so much as a scratch of bloodshed, because she and Stiles actually know how to do things, how to look things up, and –
“Where’s Derek?” Stiles asks after everything’s taken care of, seemingly just having realized the man in question isn’t there. Scott glances around the pack before looking back, sympathetic.
“He left a couple weeks ago. Moved back to New York.”
It’s been five and a half weeks since their move down to Palo Alto, but Lydia’s only gotten the bare minimum out of Stiles about what happened. Even such, she knows enough that she’s angry at Derek for leaving him like this. Thankfully, Scott throws an arm around his shoulders, invites him over to play video games and hopefully, that’ll be enough of a distraction, for now.
She’s in her own room an hour later when the window slides open and Malia drops through. Lydia’s heard the stories from Stiles, and shakes her head, turning back to her textbook with a smile, muttering “Hales” under her breath. Malia comes up and sits on her bed.
“Missed you,” she says quietly, and Lydia knows what it means coming from her, because Malia’s always careful not to show vulnerability. She looks back up, and then opens her arms. Malia goes in for a hug.
They stay like that for a while.
*
Things continue like that for the next three years – every time Lydia’s been away from Beacon Hills long enough to start relaxing, Scott’s calling again, telling them about another threat and they head back to fight.
It stops, suddenly, senior year of college. And at first Lydia’s ecstatic; maybe finally the supernaturals are getting it through their minds that Beacon Hills is not to be fucked with. Until Thanksgiving comes around. She’d decided to stay behind, too much to do in the lab, but when Stiles comes back Sunday he’s tense and furious.
She gets the story out of him within minutes, and Lydia likes Liam well enough but he doesn’t have half the experience, strategizing prowess, research skills, or life skills as Stiles, so what the fuck, Scott? She gets Stiles to calm down, then he starts crying, and she calms him down from that. It’s only once he’s fallen asleep on the couch in their living room that she steps out onto their balcony, calls Malia down in Argentina.
*
The next day, she starts thinking, and then she’s texting her parents, setting it up, ready to leave for good.
*
They leave from LAX six days after graduating from Stanford, heading first to London to see Jackson. Lydia’d rekindled their relationship senior year of high school, and she’s so glad she had because these days Jackson’s her third best friend, after Stiles and Malia.
Then there’s Paris, and Isaac and Gen are fun people to be around; Częstochowa is great and Lydia loves Stiles’ family, finds comfort in the easy-going nature of their lives and they’re impressed with her Polish and it’s great; Italy is one tourist trap after another, but it’s wonderful; and New York City is what she’s always dreamed of it being.
But she knows exactly what she really wants, and finally makes Stiles talk about it their second full day in the City as their sitting in a café, Lydia doing some freelance mathematics for one of her old professors and Stiles writing or something. She comes right out with it.
“So Argentina,” she tries, and though he’s a dick about it eventually they agree to head down there.
She excitedly calls Malia again after she’s bought the tickets, laughing softly when the woman shares her joy, babbling on about all their going to do there and it’s fun because Malia’s only like this when she’s extremely happy. She ignores the knowing look Stiles sends her.
It’s later that day, after she’s finished chewing Stiles out for being the stupid, self-confidence lacking asshole he’d been to Derek that she turns to him, looking at the smile on his face as he continues texting.
“I mean it. You deserve to be happy, Stiles, and Derek obviously makes you happy.”
“You know you do to,” Stiles insists, “Deserve happiness, I mean.”
Lydia laughs, turning her eyes back to the TV as Malia’s face swims into her head.
“Why do you think I’m so adamant to go?”
*
They’re walking down the beach, quietly talking about the research Lydia did while in school, and it’s wonderful because Malia’s clearly confused on some of the topics Lydia brings up, but she’s trying so hard to keep up and it’s just –
Lydia kisses her, turning on a whim and pressing her lips to Malia’s and at first she’s stiff, clearly stunned, but then –
And it’s wonderful. The last few months have all been wonderful, but this –
“Come back to my place,” Malia whispers against her lips, and Lydia –
Pulls out her phone and tells Stiles she’s doing just that.
*
“You’re staying here, aren’t you.”
Stiles poses the question that’s more of a statement as they’re sitting on the balcony of their hotel room in Buenos Aires, sipping wine as Cora, her fiancé Iggy, Derek, and Malia watch a soccer match on the TV inside.
She responds in the positive – she likes it here, she likes the Prieto pack, and most of all, she really likes Malia. Of course, then she has to ask back even though she knows his answer as much as he obviously knew hers, and –
“You don’t think you’ll stay around here?”
Stiles must hear the lilt in her voice she tried so hard to fight, from the way he looks over, leans over, takes her hand. She lets him, squeezes.
“I’ll miss you too, but. It doesn’t feel quite all the way there, here.” He sighs. “It’s super pretty, though, lots to photograph, and Derek’s only family is here. I don’t doubt even if we move on we’ll be back regularly.”
Lydia hums, squeezing his hand again before dropping it.
“I’m glad you found your someone,” she whispers, quietly.
“I’m glad you found yours, too,” he tells her back, and then Malia’s bursting through the sliding door and wrapping her arms around Lydia, whispering sweet nothings into her ear and.
For the first time since sixteen, she actually feels happy and stress free.
She feels better.