Work Text:
i.
There is a change in the air; it dips and cools slightly, a hint of a storm on its way. Laura tilts her head up, sniffing a bit unconsciously. The storm will be a bad one. Goosebumps pimple the flesh on her arms and she wraps them around herself, looking for Derek. He said that he would be right back, just ducking into the convenience store to get some snacks. The gas pump clicks, signaling it's finished, and Laura pulls it out, locking the little door and resting back against the truck. Finally, Derek comes out of the store, arms full of junk food.
She gives him a small grin. "Bout time."
Derek's face remains unchanged as he climbs into the passenger seat. Laura sighs and reaches over, snagging some chips from him. Derek slouches down into his seat as she turns the truck on, the agitation wafting off him. Laura places two Pringles into her mouth and turns to him, quacking. A sliver of a grin etches onto his face and Laura slaps his cheeks until it breaks out into a real smile.
Or, what counts for a real smile from him these days.
By the time they pull up to their old home, the rain has fully broken through, coming down in sheets that make it difficult to see the road. There aren't any other cars around, and if Laura didn't have impeccable eyesight, she probably would have pulled over to the side of the road to wait it out. As it is, she slows, no longer reckless enough to chance it. Not with Derek in the passenger seat.
He doesn't say a word as she cuts the engine and jumps out, leaving their bags in her truck and walking inside slowly. For once she doesn't try to make him. They step forward in silent tandem, Derek flanking her left instinctively. Six years of self-exile feels like enough is finally enough, their mother would never want them to stay away from Beacon Hills this long. That had been the final straw in convincing Derek. That, and him having no choice; Laura is the alpha after all. Not that she would ever order him, never about something like this. If he truly hadn't wanted to come, she wouldn't have made him.
The whole place still smells too much of ash, remnants of a day six years prior, and Laura almost starts choking as they walk up the steps. Derek sucking in a breath is the only thing that grounds her, shocks her spine straight, and sets her jaw forward. Her fingers brush against his for just a second, then they both pass over the threshold together.
He immediately goes for his old room and Laura leaves him to it, surveying the near rubble that was once their home. She walks slowly through each room, her teeth clenched tight. It becomes too much when she steps into the kitchen and it's bare. The pale yellow paint her mother had chosen is nearly all charred off the walls. She yells out to Derek that she's going for a run, and bolts.
It's still raining, but not quite as heavily as it had been an hour ago. Laura ignores the icy drops that pelt down against her skin and pushes her body as hard as she can. It's been a few weeks since she's gone for a proper run, and her muscles strain against the movement at first.
The rain has changed to a dull mist when she senses other people in the woods. She slows down her stride just seconds before an arrow comes whizzing through the air. She senses the arrow mere seconds before dropping and rolling to the ground, her instincts the only thing that keeps her alive.
A high pitched yell of, “Allison! You almost killed someone! Can we go now?” rings out into the dreary afternoon and Laura growls in frustration. She jumps up from the wet ground, wired and angry, and screams.
“What the fuck?"
A skinny girl about her height comes barreling into view, clutching a bow and gasping. “I am so sorry,” she says. Another girl, a smaller redhead, comes up behind her, wearing an annoyed, but slightly worried look on her face. “I am so sorry,” the first girl repeats again.
"This is private property," Laura says, brushing wet grass off her elbow sharply.
The redhead narrows her eyes. “Yeah, because no one has lived here for years,” she snaps, “ever since—”
“—the fire?” Laura interrupts, refusing to allow the words to come out pained. Something catches in the redhead's eyes regardless, but Laura pushes it down. “Yeah well, we're back. And we still own the land.”
“You're a Hale?” the redhead asks, suspiciously.
Laura straightens, standing up to her full height, and jerks her head once in a nod. “And whoever you two are, you're trespassing.”
“I—we were just practicing,” the girl with the bow says. “We didn't—” she sighs, giving Laura an apologetic smile. Dimples and all, and dammit if it isn't adorable. “—we didn't mean any harm. I'm sorry, we'll leave.” She turns and grabs the other girl's arm, trying to tug her along, but she halts.
“Wait, so... was Peter related to you?” she asks.
Laura freezes, the sting of losing yet another family member still raw. “Niece, yeah. That's why we're back. Legal shit to sign etcetera.” It's more information than two random teenagers need, so Laura turns to head back home before the first girl calls out to her again.
“Wait! Then I—we, we need your help!” Laura turns back to them, frown on her face as the dark-haired girl trots up to her. “I'm Allison,” she says and sticks her hand out. Laura merely glances down at it until she pulls it back sheepishly. Her social skills have been lacking the last few years, and she is wet and cold, and this girl shot an arrow at her head not ten minutes ago. Allison points behind her. “This is Lydia. Our friend—my boyfriend—Scott, he... he knew Peter briefly. Well... he didn't...” She turns to Lydia, looking a bit helpless. “He didn't exactly know him but... well Peter...”
Lydia walks up beside Allison and crosses her arms. “He attacked him,” she says harshly. “In these woods.”
Everything in Laura's body freezes, the girl can't possibly be saying what she thinks she is. “I...” Laura clenches her fist. “What exactly do you mean by attacked? He's been in a coma for the last six years.”
“Not quite,” Allison says. And that's when her necklace drops out of her shirt, and Laura steps back.
“You're an Argent,” she bites out harshly. She lifts up on her toes, ready to run at a moments notice, quickly surveying the area for more hunters. It had taken years, but Derek had finally come clean about Kate and the Argents, and the fire. Her stupid baby brother, manipulated by a psychotic hunter girl, blamed himself for his entire family's death. Laura had blamed him too, for a bit, and she'd hated herself for it. Her anger was better suited towards the hunters anyways.
“I—yes, but...”
“Get off my property,” Laura hisses, and takes off running.
…
…
They hadn't been planning on it, but rather than sleep in a motel, they pull out sleeping bags and blankets and crash in the living room of their old home. It feels like when they were kids, and they would all pile together during summer nights. Except there is only two of them, and the walls are charred black.
“Are we staying?” Derek asks.
Laura starts to say no—once they go sign some papers at the hospital tomorrow, she wants out of Beacon Hills forever. Being back here is making her skin itch. But, she also feels like she can breathe again for the first time in years, so she nods. “I think we should get the house fixed up, I hate that it's been left like this.” She leans up, looking Derek in the eye. “We don't have to stay,” she insists. “But I'd like to... for a bit.”
He's silent for a few minutes—per usual—then she hears a quiet. “Okay.”
…
…
The teenagers show up on her doorstep the next morning.
They've got two boys in tow; one twitchy and frowning at her, the other looking like he's trying not to be nervous and failing miserably. It's a full moon tonight, and Laura really doesn't need this shit.
“I told you to get lost,” she directs at the Argent girl. “Not bring friends.”
She hears Derek come up behind her. “What's going on?”
“Nothing, teenagers got the wrong house.” Laura starts to close the door, but the twitchy boy kicks his foot out, halting her. She glances down at his foot slowly, then trails back up to his face. “Move. Your. Foot.” He swallows nervously but doesn't move. She respects that a little, but annoyance outweighs any respect by a mile.
“Your uncle attacked my best friend,” he accuses, “so I think you're obligated to help him.”
“Obligated?” Laura sneers, jerking the door forward and causing him to fall back into the other boy. “I don't think I'm obligated to do a goddamn thing.”
“What does he mean attacked?” Derek asks. He turns towards the teenagers, “our uncle was in a coma,” he stresses.
“Your uncle was faking or something! And he mauled my best friend and turned him into a friggin' werewolf, and then killed a bunch of other people before these hunter dudes came and killed him!” The boy spits this out in a frenzied half a second, growing angrier with each word.
Laura looks at each of them in shock until the other boy steps forward. “I'm Scott,” he says, sticking out his hand to her. “I'm sorry, Stiles gets a little...” He waves his hands around, seemingly unsure of how to describe his friend. “Things have been kind of crazy around here recently. Can you... are you guys... like he was?”
Laura pushes down the growl of frustration building inside her and throws the door open. “You'd better come in.”
The story gets explained to her in bursts. Scott tries to talk calmly, but Laura can see the moon taking its effect on him already. The twitchy one, Stiles, interrupts constantly, and when Derek threatens to punch him, Laura is inclined to let him, until the redhead—Lydia—Laura remembers, gets him to be quiet.
Uncle Peter attacking and turning kids against their will doesn't surprise Laura the way it does Derek, (she's been trained to be the next alpha since birth, her mother let her in on a lot of secrets no one else was privy to) but it does piss her off. Derek is still so full of rage. Six years in and it radiates off of him in a way that it doesn't with her. Laura has taken painstaking measures to be able to control it for herself, but one little spark can set him off. He kicks his chair back and grabs Stiles around the neck before she manages to get a hold of him.
“Go upstairs,” she orders. He hesitates, and Laura narrows her eyes. Derek releases the kid with an angry grunt and stamps away.
“Well, he is—” Stiles starts, one look from Laura shuts him up.
She stands up and leans back against the kitchen counter. It's covered in soot, and it leaves a dark streak on the back of her t-shirt. The sight of it only makes her angrier. Scott is sitting in a broken chair, one knee bouncing a mile a minute and Laura sighs. He's so little. God, he reminds her of Derek—before the fire, ages ago, when control was still hard for him. Harder. This isn't his fault any more than it's hers, but here he is, and like it or not, he is her problem now.
Laura runs her fingers through her long, dark hair. She needs a fucking cup of coffee and some food. “Okay,” she says quietly. “McCall, are your parents home?”
Scott looks up at her in confusion. “No. My mom's at work. She's a nurse. My dad doesn't live with us anymore.”
Laura nods and pushes away from the counter, grabbing her leather jacket and shrugging it on. “Right, you got stuff to make pancakes?”
“Um... maybe?”
“Come on,” Laura grabs the collar of his jacket and hauls him upwards. She yells up to Derek, “we're going to make pancakes, I'll bring you back something!”
“Pancakes!” Stiles screeches incredulously. He twitches again and Laura wants to smack him. “There... he is gonna turn into a monster in a few hours and you want to make pancakes with us?”
Laura pushes him into the wall, her elbow up against his neck, enough to shut him up, but not enough to actually hurt him. “He isn't a monster,” she hisses. “And I don't recall inviting you.”
“Stiles is my best friend,” Scott insists.
“Stiles is a human. A sixteen-year-old human boy who should be in school.” Laura nods towards the girls. "Them too," she adds. "You're gonna be sick today. It's not even a lie. You said you wanted my help, I want pancakes first."
Scott glances back and forth between Stiles and Allison; Laura notes that he doesn't look to Lydia. She's not exactly sure what the dynamic is between these kids, but she can smell Stiles' attraction to Lydia a goddamn mile away. The three of them seem to come to some sort of silent agreement. Lydia sits there, ignoring them, like it's nothing new for her to be left out. For some reason, it pisses Laura off more.
“Any goddamn day now,” she says.
“Okay,” Scott agrees. “But, you're gonna help me right? Cause the last full moon...”
“Kid, I got your back," Laura says, softening her voice. Scott's entire body relaxes; she can feel the relief washing over him. Finally, someone who knows what they're talking about, who's older, who's dealt with this before is on his side. And it's that moment that endears him to Laura forever. She's been a big sister for a long time, and this is what she has spent her whole life preparing for.
…
…
Scott can't cook, so Laura ends up teaching him how to not burn pancakes and the basics of being a werewolf. She brings back extra for Derek and makes both boys go with her for an afternoon run. It always helps her release tension on full moon days.
When they get back, Stiles and the girls are all sitting on her porch. Stiles jumps up immediately, heading straight for Scott, Allison not far behind him. But Lydia remains in place, barely looking at them. Laura has already worked out that the three of them aren't going to leave her alone from talking with Scott earlier. But it's dangerous to have three human kids around, especially one who's a hunter's kid. An Argent. Derek's whole body shakes when he looks at Allison, and Laura doesn't really blame him much.
They set up the basement for Scott. It's where Laura spent full moons as a kid. Derek too. Every Hale that Laura knows of. It's not as much of a stronghold since the fire, but it will hold him for one night. She makes it explicitly clear that none of the other teenagers are going down there. Stiles protests and Laura considers ripping that ridiculous buzz cut right off his scalp. When he grabs Lydia, who clearly doesn't appear to reciprocate his affections, Laura pounces on him. She's had enough of boys who feel entitled to women over the years, and she pushes her elbow into his throat enough to hurt this time. "This is my house, I don't give a shit if he is your best friend. Until he learns to control himself, he is dangerous to someone who doesn't know what they're doing. You listen to me, or you leave. There isn't any other option."
Lydia gives her an odd look when she releases him, but Laura ignores it and leads Scott down to the basement.
He tries to get her to tie him up, and she laughs. "We're not animals, you can't hurt me, and you can't hurt anyone else down here. And I'm here to make sure you don't hurt yourself."
“But—"
“Kid, I've done this before, lots of times. Trust me.”
He stares at her for a moment, unblinking, shocked at her words, and then just collapses to the ground. “It... I mean, I keep turning into a monster, and Allison's dad and her whole family want to kill me, and Jackson was like a... lizard thing, and my mom found out about me, and I'm just..."
Laura sits down beside him and drops her hand to his knee. “You're not a monster,” she says again. “You make the choice not to be. Animalistic, predatory, capable of monstrosities, but not inherently a monster. That's rule one," she shrugs. "What my mom always used to say anyway. I've met a lot of assholes kid—you're sweet. You're not a monster."
Scott grins at her, then cries out in agony as he starts to change. Laura holds him, not restraining, but holding, so he can't tear at his own skin. The howls get louder and louder. She can hear the kids moving around upstairs, but she knows not one of them will get past Derek. Not even the hunter girl. She blocks them out and focuses on Scott. Remembering everything that her mother taught her. Finally, one howl of her own stills Scott and part of her rejoices, but realization of what it means sinks in her gut. If he responds to her howl like that, then he accepts her as his alpha. Which, he needs. An omega is as good as dead in every vein, but a teenage omega with zero knowledge of himself and the world around him... Laura is frankly surprised he's survived this long. But the responsibility of it, of some random kid, it's not what her life was supposed to be. She was supposed to be alpha to Derek and Cora and her cousins.
There isn't really going back now whether she wants to or not. Her mother wouldn't have even considered it.
Laura holds onto him until he finally falls asleep, exhausted from the change, and she trudges upstairs, locking the door behind her just in case.
Derek looks up at her, and she gives him a nod. Without saying goodnight, he goes off to bed, leaving her with the two teenagers sitting on the floor, half asleep. She kicks Stiles’ leg, waking him, and his jolt wakes Allison beside him. “What, is Scott okay?” he asks instantly. And, for all his annoyances—and there are many—she respects his loyalty to his best friend.
“He's fine, he's asleep. Go home.”
“No, we're not—”
“—You're teenagers,” Laura says, cutting him off. “It's a school night, and you’re the son of a cop. I'd like to not be charged with kidnapping, thanks. Scott's mother thinks he's sleeping over at your house, be smart enough to keep up the ruse."
Stiles looks like he is about to argue, but Allison grabs hold of his arm and tugs him gently towards the door. “Thank you,” she says. Laura raises her eyebrows in return and walks into the kitchen.
Lydia turns around at the sound of her footsteps, wrapping her arms around herself. “Is Scott okay?”
“Yeah, he's fine.” Laura studies the girl. There is something about her, something Laura's sensed from the moment she met her, but she can't put her finger on it.
“Lydia!” Allison calls from the other room. “We're leaving.”
“Okay!” Lydia picks up her jacket and puts it on, glancing back up to Laura as she flips her hair out of it. "I got you a coffee machine, the pot's full," she points to it, pristine, steam still wafting out of the top. It looks out of place on the countertop. But some of the soot is gone, like Lydia cleaned or something. “This place is unsanitary you know,” she adds as she walks past Laura. “You should do something about that.”
Laura is about to snap back at her, sorry my entire family went up in flames, when something in Lydia's face changes. “Do you know anything about... people hearing voices? Or... finding a lot of dead bodies?”
Laura frowns. “What?”
“Never mind, enjoy your coffee.” And with that, she's gone. Leaving Laura alone in a dirty kitchen that's completely empty apart from a coffee pot. She doesn't even have a mug, so she lifts the pot up and sips it straight from the spout.
...
...
ii.
Lydia wasn't exactly wrong about the house being unsanitary. She and Derek hadn't intended on moving back to Beacon Hills; but nearly six months later, house halfway reconstructed, and dealing with a bunch of teenagers problems—here they are.
If she has to listen to the saga of Scott and Allison one more time...
The worst part of it all is that she likes it. She likes Scott, maybe loves him, even, which scares the shit out of her a little. And being an alpha feels so much more natural with two than one. Even the idiots that come along with Scott are starting to feel like pack. Allison and Scott are constantly together, and Stiles is never far off—to Laura's chagrin, she hasn't exactly warmed up to him much—but it's Lydia that intrigues her most of all. The girl has found three dead bodies in the last few months, had a hand in resurrecting Peter after the first time he died; and when Laura heard her piercing scream two weeks ago, she finally dug through her mother's things and put two and two together.
She's learned a lot more than she ever wanted to know about the four teenagers in the last six months. Stiles can fall asleep anywhere, in any uncomfortable looking position imaginable. Scott is loyal to a fault and has more potential than anyone Laura has ever met. Despite being a hunter, and an Argent, Allison can worm her way into anyone's good graces. Laura is pissed by how much she likes the girl—even Derek glares at her less these days. And Lydia might just be the smartest person in Beacon Hills, and she has been left out of the loop more often than not. On more than one occasion, while her safety was also compromised. Before he died—usually because of Laura's dear old uncle Peter.
The girl deserves to know what's happening to her, and Laura's grown to like her over the last half a year. She's incredibly smart, which is helpful and just plain impressive (and intimidating) to a girl who never quite ended up finishing her senior year. And she is quick with a snappy insult in a way that Laura appreciates. Being beautiful doesn't hurt either.
So, Laura buys two cups of coffee, and for the first time since meeting her, heads over to Lydia's house.
Lydia opens the door and frowns at her for half a second. “What are you doing here?”
“You're a banshee,” Laura says with a shrug. She figures it's better to just spit it out. Rip it off like a band-aid and all that. Lydia's eyes widen, and she steps back from Laura instinctively.
“I—”
“Yeah, here's a coffee to smooth the blow or whatever,” Laura hands it to her, then breezes past, slipping inside. “It took me a while to figure it out.” She glances around the house. It's nice. A little, minimalist furniture style for her liking (she likes cozy, messy, old and full of memories) but somehow it doesn't give off the cold, unlived-in impression this type of décor usually does. “I figured you'd have some questions and stuff, so I dug through all my mom’s things I could find. We have this vault, so... there's still a bunch of stuff that was saved from the fire.” She's not sure why she's explaining this, Lydia is barely paying attention. Laura gets it—it must be a lot. She's known what she is since birth, Lydia's just been told what she thought her world was, isn't.
“I—” Lydia clutches the paper coffee cup in her hands. If she squeezes it any tighter, she's going to burn herself.
“Take a breath Lydia, you're still the same person you were two seconds ago. Now you just have a name for the crap you haven't been able to figure out.”
“I am not!” Lydia yells. “I'm a human. I can't be a...”
“Banshee,” Laura supplies.
“I hate this!” Laura jumps forward and pulls the coffee out of Lydia's hands before it spills everywhere. “I can't keep finding bodies, I can't keep having these nightmares,” her voice breaks. “I just need it to go away.” She looks really close to tears and Laura reaches forward and rubs her shoulder tentatively. She's never been great with comforting people. Her way of getting Derek to smile is usually to start slapping him in the face until he grins. She used to pinch Cora, or do a stupid monkey dance. She's not going to do the monkey dance in front of Lydia.
“Look, it's... it's not that bad.”
“I find dead bodies! That's my 'power'. How is that not bad?” Lydia snaps at her.
“Because that's not what a banshee does, it's just because you don't know how to control it.” Laura hands Lydia back her coffee. “Yet,” she adds.
“I'm so sick of not knowing what's going on,” Lydia whispers. "I thought I was going crazy."
Laura sits down on the couch. It squeaks. Lydia doesn't look down at her, so Laura opts to pretend it didn't happen. “Well, I read all the shit on banshees my mother had. Would you like to finally know some stuff?”
The relief practically drips off of Lydia. She sags down beside Laura and sips her coffee for the first time, then looks down oddly at her cup.
“Sorry, did I get it wrong?” Laura asks. “Maybe this one was yours.”
“No... I, this is exactly how I take it.”
“Oh, well... good,” Laura shrugs.“So...” she bends down and digs out the old, dusty books of her mother's from her bag. “Good thing you like to read, cause this shit is kinda dense. And half of it is Celtic. Of which I know like... five words total.”
Lydia takes the book from her hands, “Gaelic or Irish, or something else? Celtic isn't exactly a language in of itself. And, I know at least ten,” she says with a smirk.
“My kind of woman,” Laura mutters under her breath. She sees Lydia glance towards her out of the corner of her eye, ignores her, and flips open the second book with a flourish. Feeling slightly vindicated as she hears Lydia laugh lightly to herself.
...
...
iii.
“Feet off dash, McCall,” Laura says for the third time.
He grins at her. “Dusty shoes on this dashboard isn't really gonna make much of a difference.” He slides his shoes down anyway.
“Hush, my car is awesome.”
“Your car is disgusting,” Lydia says from the backseat. “And incredibly cramped.”
“Rude,” Laura mutters, then loudly sips her slushie. Scott laughs from beside her and spills bits of his burrito on her car seat as he takes a particularly large bite. Laura yells, “You're almost eighteen, get your food in your mouth!”
“How exactly is this going to work?” Lydia asks. “I mean, you and Scott are werewolves, I'm a banshee, they're not exactly going to be thrilled to see us. You two especially.”
“She's got a point,” Allison says. “Maybe Lydia and I should go in by ourselves. Call if we need you?”
“No,” Laura and Scott say at the same time. Laura can see Allison, annoyed at their overprotectiveness, shaking her head in the rearview mirror. “We're not letting you two go in alone,” she adds.
“I can take care of myself,” Allison insists. “And I can take care of Lydia. They aren't going to hurt me. My father had a pretty good relationship with them.”
“Had,” Laura reminds her. “Past tense. You might not get a particularly warm welcome. And I know you can take care of yourself, that's not the point.” Laura catches her eye in the rearview mirror. “We stick together.” Allison doesn't answer, but Laura sees her nod and flop back into her seat.
The two of them probably could handle things by themselves. Allison is deadly in a way that would make Laura nervous if she didn't trust her implicitly now. The girl has had her back in enough fights for her to forget about the fact that she's an Argent. Derek even trusts her now. Hell, Laura thinks he even likes her a little. And Laura had made sure that Lydia knew a good chunk of basic self-defense moves when it became clear that she was going to need to know them whether she wanted to or not. Plus, Allison gave her a taser for her birthday last year. But Laura isn't about to take any chances with a ruthless group of hunters who may or may not try to kill them all on sight. Splitting up hasn't ever quite worked out well for them before, she doubts it would work now.
“How much further is it?” Scott asks, finishing off his burrito.
“About another hour 'till we get to the border, depending on how long that takes, maybe two... three more,” Allison says with a sigh.
“Ugh, it's already close to nine, I'm exhausted,” Laura groans. “Lets just... you guys wanna get a motel room and just cross the border in the morning?”
“I can drive if you're tired,” Scott offers.
“The last time you drove my truck, you nearly totaled it.” Laura reminds him with a glare.
“That was... there was a harpy attacking me! I couldn't see the road!”
“Doesn't matter, you're banned for life.”
“I can drive. I've never gotten into an accident,” Lydia says.
“Don't say something like that!” Laura yells. “That is a surefire way to ensure you get in one any day now. Find something wooden and knock on it.”
“Worried about my well being?” Lydia jokes. Laura doesn't say anything in response. Lydia has been saying stuff like that a lot recently. Jokes that sound a heck of a lot more like flirting, brushing up against Laura, finding herself alone with her, and staring at her with a lot more intensity than a seventeen-year-old should be capable of. Seventeen. Laura reminds herself again. Born the same year as your goddamn baby sister.
“So, motel?” she asks in lieu of answering.
“Fine with me. We'll just have to end up getting one down in Mexico later tonight anyway,” Allison says.
…
…
The woman at the front desk looks older than anyone Laura has ever seen in her life. Her wrinkles have wrinkles. And yet, she jumps down off her seat, hands them the keys and points them towards their room with vigor that does not match her face. She's grouchy and adorable in a way Laura hopes to be when she's eighty-something.
Laura drops her bag down to the floor, “I call bathroom first,” she declares, and goes in before anyone can protest. She splashes some cold water on her face and brushes her teeth quickly before changing into sleep shorts and a large t-shirt. When she steps out of the bathroom, Lydia immediately brushes past her and closes the door. Scott has already stripped down to his boxers, a sight that Laura has unfortunately become accustomed to in the last year and a half. “I'm not listening to the two of you groping each other all night,” she warns them. Allison only rolls her eyes and yanks her jeans off, digging around for shorts of her own to sleep in. Laura flops down on the bed closest to the door, “I mean it, you and Lydia share.”
“We're capable of controlling ourselves,” Allison says, sitting down across from her. Laura leans up on her elbows, giving her a dubious look. “We are,” Allison stresses. “But if you don't want to share with Lydia...”
“Why wouldn't I?” Laura snaps. Allison doesn't say anything, but the look she gives Laura says enough. Laura turns over and jams her legs under the covers. “Go to sleep,” she orders and clicks off the light.
A few minutes later, the bed dips and Laura smells Lydia's shampoo. She doesn't turn over, or even move much, despite hearing Allison and Scott giggling to each other. Laura squeezes her eyes shut and tries to fall asleep. After fifteen minutes or so go by, and there is still rustling coming from the other bed, and Lydia groans. “Shut up.”
“Sorry,” Allison whispers. “Night.”
“I'm gonna kill them both,” Laura mutters.
“Not unless I do first,” Lydia whispers back.
…
…
When Laura wakes up, there is hair in her mouth, she can't feel her arm, and... someone's hand is pretty much clutching her breast. She opens her eyes and blows the copper hair out of her mouth. Lydia's face is pressed right up against her own, and Laura discovers the reason she can't feel her arm is because Lydia's body is currently on top of it. Their arms are entangled and the hand that's on her breast belongs to Lydia. Very slowly, Laura lifts her head up and glances across the room. Scott and Allison are tangled up similarly to Laura and Lydia, still asleep. Seeing how much they mimic the couple, Laura jerks away from Lydia, nearly waking her up.
“What?” she mumbles.
“Nothing, go back to sleep,” Laura says and tries to slip out of her grasp fully before she wakes up all the way.
It doesn't work.
Lydia's eyes crack open, and she glances down at Laura's body, realizing where her hand still rests. Her eyes widen and she snaps her hand back, almost falling out of the bed in the process. Laura reaches out instinctively and grabs hold of her before she falls. “Sorry,” she mumbles, then quickly climbs out of the bed and heads straight for the bathroom.
It's too hot for anything other than a cool shower. Not even quite nine a.m., and it's already close to 86° according to her cell phone. Laura scrubs her scalp harshly, rinses off, then jumps out and dresses as quickly as possible. She pulls on jean shorts and a tank top, twisting her wet hair up into a bun before stepping back into the bedroom. Lydia pointedly doesn't look at her. She gathers her things quickly and heads in to take the next shower.
Within forty minutes, they are packed up, checked out, and ordering breakfast in a shitty diner off the interstate. Laura keeps catching Lydia's eye, then glancing just about anywhere else in a way that—if she's being honest—this has been going on a lot longer since just this morning. She tries to keep her gaze down on the tower she's constructing out of creamer packets, barely listening as the three of them discuss plans for meeting the Calaveras. It's not 'til Scott reaches over and takes a creamer off the top that she even notices their food has arrived. He looks at her oddly, and she just shakes her head once, hardly moving it at all. Neither girl takes any notice. At this point, she and Scott can communicate without even trying. He gives her the barest hint of a nod in return and turns back to whatever Lydia was saying to him.
Allison taps her fork against Laura's plate. “Are you sure you don't want us to go in first?”
Laura shakes her head and wolfs down the rest of her pancakes quickly. “No.” She rises, digging into her pockets for some stray cash. The waitress, a woman probably in her mid-fifties with a bright smile, takes the wadded up money with a sigh that feels far too maternal for Laura to deal with. She jams the change back into her pocket and starts tapping out a beat on the counter with some straws as the others come up behind her to pay. When the waitress gives Laura a gentle pat on the shoulder as they head back out to the truck, she swallows, pushing her sunglasses back on and straightening her spine. The woman is just a woman being kind to a stranger, nothing more.
They bypass the border with no problems, which surprises Laura. A twenty-something and a bunch of teenagers don't really scream 'innocent weekend vacation'. She figures they'll have a harder time on the way back. America at its finest.
Allison is far better with directions than Laura is, so she climbs over Scott and delegates him to the back with Lydia to navigate. It only ends up taking them just under two more hours to get to where Mr. Argent said the Calaveras use as a base. It looks like a town square, but Laura knows better—every shop probably has a Calavera in it. Or someone on their payroll in one way or another.
It's hotter than hell and dusty as shit. Laura had taken her hair down to let it dry an hour back, but she yanks it up into a loose ponytail now. Too hot on her neck to even contemplate anything else. Besides, who knows how things are about to go down. She can't worry about her hair getting in her face if things come to blows. It doesn't surprise Laura at all that the hunters would pick some out in the boonies, stereotypical Mexican town as their base of operations. From what she's heard about them, it's just the kind of thing that they would find hilarious.
Cell reception is oddly fantastic, but that doesn't actually surprise her either. Laura shoots off a quick text to Derek, letting him know they got there fine and telling him not to kill Stiles while they're gone. Scott would miss him. Laura might.
A man walks out of the largest building and leans against the door frame, watching them. Laura straightens up and nods to Scott, who flanks her right immediately. Allison moves over to her left, Lydia just a step behind her.
“I'd like to speak to Araya Calavera when she's got a minute,” Laura says as they walk up to him.
The man looks her up and down. Slowly, not leering, assessing. And Laura doesn't flinch for a second. She may be flying this whole alpha thing mostly blind, her training was nowhere near finished when she was suddenly left without her teacher. But she's learned a lot in the last seven years, and she's not just an orphaned eighteen-year-old anymore.
He comes to some sort of conclusion. “And who might you be?” he asks, never moving from his casual position for a second.
“Laura... Hale.”
His eyes widen just the slightest bit at that. If Laura wasn't watching his face so intently, she doubts she would have noticed it at all. He's good.
“And, what may I ask brings a Hale to our humble abode?”
“I heard you might have some information that would interest me. Something relating to my mother.”
He chuckles, and then a knife appears; he plays with it as he speaks. “Hum, well last I heard, Talia Hale died nearly... eight years ago was it? I don't know what information we could possibly have that would be of any use to you.”
“I didn't ask you. I'm here to ask Araya.”
“Well, my mother confides nearly everything with me, and we aren't quite in the business of helping beasts.”
Allison steps forward slightly. “My father said we should come, Chris Argent.”
He turns his attention to Allison. “The Argents work with beasts now?”
“May we speak to her please?” Allison asks, ignoring him completely. He looks between Laura and Allison, then presses off from the door frame, walking inside without a word.
Laura decides to follow him. Whether that was his intention or not.
It appears it was, as he opens a door and ushers them inside. Laura turns to make sure Lydia is in between herself and Scott before directing her attention to the woman sitting at the table.
Araya Calavera is as impressive as they say, and Laura can barely get anything out of her. Her son, Severo, looms in the doorway the entire time; wearing a smirk that Laura wants to rip off his face. This had been a long shot to begin with, the only reason she had even bothered to come because the others had a long weekend off from school. Lydia had joked she didn't even need to go anymore; she's already been accepted early decision to Stanford, nearly a full ride.
Laura decides to call it a bust after nearly an hour of back and forth barbs. Her stomach is rumbling something fierce, and this bitch isn't going to give her anything. The only reason she is permitted inside is because they somehow know Laura has never bitten anyone. They should call it quits, get some tacos, sight-see a little, then head on home.
But, as she stands to leave, Araya says something that stills her blood. Laura turns, and the woman has the same arrogant smirk on her face that she's worn the whole hour, but now she's leaning forward, charged somehow.
“You're lying,” Laura insists. She can feel Scott and the other's gaze on her, but she ignores them, stepping right up into Araya's space. “Why would you keep them alive?”
“Curiosity,” Araya says. “I've heard the legends about wolves kept from the moons, but I wanted to know the truth of it. Rabid beasts,” she laughs. “More so than usual. But I am sure of the name, the boy uttered it. We were going to kill them, but they seem to have... calmed a bit since this last moon. If they gained more control with the next, we were going to let them go.” Laura laughs harshly at this and Araya's eyes narrow. “We follow a code little girl. They have not bitten anyone. Had they, they would be dead. Now... I'm not exactly a generous woman, nor do I have much time to waste. Would you like to take your sister home or not?”
“What?” she hears Lydia gasp from behind her.
She must nod, or do something to indicate a yes, because Araya leads them down a dank hall. Laura can hear them already, and every single part of her goes numb. When Severo opens the door, three distinct howls call out to her—one that she would recognize anywhere. It's different, more pained and primal than it's ever been, but it's her.
Cora.
Their eyes meet and Laura only sees the barest hint of recognition in them before Cora howls again, resisting against the binds on her arms.
“We have to lock them up at night. They should be calmer in an hour or so,” Araya says.
There is another girl in the room, long, tangled blonde hair, fire in her eyes, and a tall dark boy off to the side. But Laura can only look at her sister. Cora is alive.
She can't breathe. She jumps back and takes off running, hearing the calls from Scott and Allison and ignoring them. She is vaguely aware of someone following behind her, but she doesn't care, she needs out.
Cora is alive.
Laura slams through the front door and pants, doubling over, trying to catch her breath and failing. She's shaking, and her knees give out, dropping down to sit on her curb. She tries again to catch her breath. She can't, it's coming in and out too fast, out of her control. She shoves her head between her knees; it doesn't help.
A hand rests on her back and she honest to god screeches. Strangled and gasping, she jumps up way too fast in her current state and almost falls back over in the process.
It's just Lydia. She steps forward, slowly and gets a hold of Laura's arm. “Breathe in for four seconds, then hold your breath for seven,” she orders. Laura is so shocked to see her, she complies, holding her breath while Lydia counts. “Okay, breathe out for eight, then we're gonna do it again.”
They count.
In. One. Two. Three. Four.
Hold. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.
Out. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.
And again.
By the third go of it, Laura already feels calmer. Lydia takes her hand and pulls her along, pushing them into a shop. “Sweetheart, claws,” she hisses, holding their joined hands up slightly. Laura tugs her hand away and retracts them as Lydia pushes her into a booth in the back. “Keep breathing. I'll get us drinks.”
Laura slumps down. She hasn't had a panic attack since the morning after the fire. Derek had been asleep in her truck-bed and Laura had slipped out into the night, the air cool and still, beautiful. It had filled her with rage. How dare anything be beautiful after she'd just lost her entire world. She'd run into the woods and screamed until she was hoarse. Then she finally realized it was just her and Derek. Derek who was only sixteen. Derek who depended on her now. Nobody was ever going to take care of her again, and she panicked. Cried, and screamed and sat down, unable to catch her breath for what felt like hours.
Lydia slips beside her and pushes a steaming mug of coffee into her hands. Laura grabs it, just for something to hold on to.
“Cora's alive,” she whispers. So soft she can barely hear herself, afraid it won't be true. She's imagined her baby sister enough times. Seen her in faces of strangers as she and Derek traveled all across the country.
“Yes,” Lydia says firmly. “She is.”
That's when Laura starts to cry.
Anyone else and she'd be embarrassed, (she is embarrassed) but Lydia handles it well. She doesn't try to hug her, but she reaches out and clasps one of Laura's hands, holding it tightly as she shakes. The minutes drag on and neither of them moves. Laura is vaguely aware of a waiter coming by and asking if everything is alright. But Lydia assures him—in Spanish—that they're fine.
“You speak Spanish?” Laura asks once she's calmed down. Her hand is still entwined with Lydia's, but she reaches out with the other and sips her coffee.
“We live in Southern California. You don't?”
“I took French in high school,” Laura says with a shrug. “Pretty sure I failed it—languages aren't my thing.”
Lydia laughs at her. “Drink your coffee.”
They sit in silence after that, neither mentioning their still clasped hands as finish off their respective drinks. Then Laura sighs. “There were two others. We can't just leave them. Not with the Calaveras. I don't really trust them.”
“You're the boss,” Lydia says as she stands up.
Laura looks up at her incredulously. “You have never differed to me as the boss.”
“Sure I have.”
“No, I think I would remember.”
“Well... I never said boss of me now did I? I'm not in your pack.”
“Shut up,” Laura says as they walk outside. “Of course you are.” She twirls, catching Lydia's smirk to herself and grins. Before Laura can continue teasing, Lydia grabs hold of her arm and pulls her head down, kissing her. She's so surprised she doesn't kiss back at first, then, once she realizes what she's doing, yanks her head back. “Lydia...” she shakes her head. “We can't... you're seventeen.”
“I'll be eighteen in less than a month, and we both know I'm far more mature than any of you.”
“Yeah but... I'll be twenty-five in three months. It's... you're...”
Lydia glares at Laura and rises up to her—frankly unimpressive—full height. “I've seen the way you look at me, and I know what I want. Don't patronize me. Seven years isn't that huge a difference, and if I recall correctly, you were the one spooning me last night.”
“I—”
Lydia turns on her heels and walks away.
“Goddammit,” Laura mutters. “Lydia! Wait!” She doesn't, because she is Lydia Martin, but Laura catches up to her easily, and she can see the smirk on Lydia's face as she does. “Goddammit,” Laura mutters again. She's fucking done for.
...
...
iv.
Lydia's shirt is way too small for her. Laura tugs it on anyway.
When she kicks her bedroom door open, two steaming coffee mugs in her hands, Lydia laughs at her. “Oh my god, that is way too small for you.”
“I am bringing you breakfast in bed,” Laura says, defensively. “Don't make fun of my hasty fashion choices.”
“You're bringing me coffee in bed,” Lydia points out as she takes her mug and sits up. “If there was breakfast to go along with it, I might stave off making fun of you.”
“No you wouldn't,” Laura says and climbs back in beside her.
Lydia blows on the hot liquid before taking a tentative first sip. “No, I wouldn't,” she grins. “You look ridiculous.”
“It's not my fault you're a tiny freak.”
“Tiny freak?” Lydia's eyebrows shoot up. “I come to visit you for the weekend when really, I should be studying, give you two mind-blowing orgasms, bring you enough chocolate to kill yourself with, and you steal my clothes and insult me?”
“A very cute tiny freak,” Laura amends. “And I made you coffee!”
Lydia shakes her head. “I'm never having sex with you again.”
“Well... that is just punishing yourself. I've never called you dumb in my life, but this might be a first.”
Lydia smacks her in the face with a pillow, and her coffee goes flying everywhere. Laura yelps as the scalding liquid drips on her bare legs, dumps her mug onto the floor, and starts to heal instantly. Lydia doesn't even look concerned, just pouty. Laura can't even get mad. In the past five months since they came back from Mexico, her entire life has changed all over again. She has her sister back, plus Erica and Boyd, the two runaway omega teenagers that had been with Cora. Thankfully, the house is completely restored, and they no longer have to sleep in rooms with soot still on the walls. And she and Lydia have been dating ever since. It's... a little hard with Lydia up at school all the time, but it's also easy and comfortable in a way that no other relationship Laura has ever had. Not having anyone try to kill them in the last few months has certainly been icing on the cake.
“You owe me a coffee,” Laura growls.
“I do not.”
“Do too.”
“Do not.”
“What are you five?”
“I'm going to slap you.”
“My reflexes are better than yours.”
“I hate you.”
“You do not, you love me.”
“I've never said that.”
“Don't need to.”
“If you two are done being gross, Derek is making breakfast,” Erica yells from the hallway.
Laura turns to Lydia. “Are we done being gross?” Lydia shakes her head and straddles Laura. “Save us some!” Laura yells, then is happily muffled as Lydia bends down and kisses her.
“That shirt is too small, I'll make you a new coffee if you take it off,” Lydia whispers.
“Deal,” Laura says, then yanks it over her head with a grin.
...
...
v.
She smells pancakes.
The smell isn't quite enticing enough to get her up off the couch. And even if it was, Zoey is currently sound asleep on top of her. All forty-three pounds of her wiry little six-year-old body pressing Laura down further into the couch. Her sticky, hot, head is currently using Laura's left breast as a pillow, and her hand has a fistful of Laura's shirt, holding her in place. She has been a holy terror the last few days, missing Braeden and taking it out on Derek. It had taken him forever to get her to sleep the night before, and Laura thought he might actually start crying from exhaustion when she woke up sometime around three. She'd slipped out of bed without waking Lydia, smacked Derek, and told him to go back to sleep. Then hauled her niece up out of bed, taking her downstairs too so she wouldn't wake up the entire house. Ever since she had Zoey, Braeden only takes jobs two or three times a year. Ones that will only last a few days at a time. But this one had some complication, and she's got to stay a few more days. Everyone is paying the price of Zoey's wrath. Add in Allison's pregnancy hormones, and nine people living in the house full time now...
Laura is owed a lot of pancakes.
She can hear voices coming from the kitchen, Scott and Lydia, from the sounds of it. She shuffles just slightly, trying to shift Zoey's weight a bit and keeps her eyes closed, not wanting to wake up just yet. She's nearly fallen back asleep when something Scott says wakes her up completely.
“So, are you and Laura next?” She can hear the laugh in his voice, practically see him standing in front of the stove, bare chest, teasing little grin, flipping pancakes. He's come a long way since the batch of burnt ones he made Laura the first day she met him.
“Next for what?” Lydia asks. Scott must make some gesture that Laura can't see, because then Lydia makes a noise Laura's heard one too many times over the last few years. Shock and indignation, and how dare you. God, Laura can read her like a book it seems. “Me?” Lydia asks. “A mother?” If Laura wasn't already keeping perfectly still so Zoey stays asleep, she would freeze.
In the first four years of dating Lydia, Laura:
- became one of those annoying people in constant need of being cuddled;
- tried to read a book on theoretical mathematics that Lydia left lying around and realized just how much smarter her girlfriend truly is than her;
- used up a hell of a lot of miles on her truck driving back and forth from her house to Stanford;
- sort of accidentally, but not quite, had sex during sunset at the Grand Canyon over Lydia's spring break, and was interrupted by a horrified mother and her three children;
- had a multitude of small fights over both the dumbest things in the world and some things she is still a little pissed about, that ended in some truly amazing make-up sex;
- came to the realization that she was in love, properly, for the first time in her life, and it was terrifying to say out loud, but amazing when said back to her;
- watched her baby brother become a dad, and watched as Lydia's interest in it didn't seem to quite match up with her own;
- got into a two-hour-long screaming fight with Lydia, which ended with horrifying finality when Lydia slammed the front door, drove back to Stanford, and Laura;
- dry heaved for what felt like almost a full hour and refused to get out of bed for a week because she knew—knew down into the depth of her gut that Lydia would never forgive her, and she'd gone and lost the one person that she really needed, forever.
Laura spent the whole week replaying the entire fight over and over in her head, feeling like someone was using dull knives and stubbly, broken nails to scrape at her skin on her chest; leaving her empty and gasping for air. Cora had come and crawled into bed with her on the second day. Not saying a word, but holding her as she shook, wrapping her strong arms around Laura and somehow, holding her together. Lydia never called. Allison became tentative around her, (Laura knew, couldn't even get mad, Allison would always take Lydia's side) and the whole pack became cautious, trying never to bring up Lydia in ways that just made Laura angrier.
In the nearly seven months that they spent broken up, Laura:
- called Lydia exactly once, and left a forty-three-second voice mail she doubts was ever listened to;
- texted Lydia exactly three times. Once on her birthday, once the day of her graduation, and once on their anniversary;
- ran with Cora and Scott every single day; pushing herself so hard that she left them both behind, and usually threw up afterwards;
- took Zoey out for ice cream once a week, and cringed each time she asked for 'Lydia's favorite please';
- accepted a date from a boy named Charlie, with beautiful light brown skin, a charming southern drawl, and shocking bright green eyes. She chickened out when their appetizers arrived and bolted out the door, running through the woods until her knees shook;
- staunchly avoided Lydia's gaze during Allison and Scott's wedding, somehow managed to get herself marginally drunk, and cried with her head in Derek's lap for an hour;
- acted like a goddamn teenager every time that Lydia showed up at the house during the summer to meet Allison; tripping over things, blushing, and generally making a fool out of herself;
- sputtered and just stared out into the darkness of her bedroom, after Lydia crawled in and kissed her senseless a few weeks later;
- was constantly terrified she would say something that would ruin the tentative routine of sex and possibly rekindling of their relationship that neither of them was brave enough to speak about;
It took three months before Laura stopped being afraid that Lydia would just go away and not pick up her phone again. Neither of them talked much about the seven months that they spent apart, occasionally dropping small bits of information, but mostly, erasing the length of time from their collective memories. It took four more months for everything to feel like normal again; familiar and safe, no more being overly cautious with each other. The whole pack seemed to finally breathe again for the first time after an entire year had passed, and Lydia's things were all over at the Hale house; like the time apart had never even happened.
The problem being, of course, that it did.
It seems like an eternity before she hears Scott go, “Well, yeah. I mean I guess maybe Boyd and Erica could be next, but neither of them seems too interested at the moment. And Cora only just started dating that dude, and Stiles claims his asexuality is the reason he'll never have children, but we all know he just doesn't actually want to be a dad and he doesn't need to give us excuses for it. So... that leaves you guys. And like... both of you will be great mothers, so... what are you waiting for?”
If Zoey wasn't on top of her, Laura might jump up and throttle Scott. Lydia might take care of it for her as it is, but that is what Laura is afraid of. Terrified that whatever comes out of Lydia's mouth next will send her spiraling back to those seven months of hell.
She wishes that she could see Lydia's face, because the only sound coming from the kitchen right now is the sizzle of the pancakes on the griddle.
Finally, she hears Lydia sigh. “Did she ever tell you why we broke up last year?”
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Not really. She didn't talk about it much, why you guys aren't... things have been good, right?”
“No, they are, that's not...” Lydia sighs again, and Laura starts gently shifting Zoey, trying to lift up and see over the couch. “She'd be an amazing mother,” Lydia agrees, “and I know that she wants kids...” Lydia trails off.
Fucking Scott.
“So... you don't?” he asks after pouring more batter onto the griddle.
It's agonizing waiting for Lydia's reply. “I... didn't, no,” she finally says.
“Didn't? Or don't? Is that... you guys broke up because of that? She wants kids and you don't?”
“It's sort of a deal breaker, Scott,” Lydia snaps. “But no that wasn't... the only reason. I didn't... doesn't, doesn't it ever scare you? How much you love Allison.”
What?
“Um, not really. I mean, I get scared for her I guess. Especially now, but not of her.”
Lydia laughs, it's harsh and choppy and hurts to hear. “Yeah, well, I should have known better than to ask you. You love everyone. You love easily. I don't. I — loving people scares me. Loving Laura scares me. I don't... a child would... I don't know. I didn't think I could. I didn't think I could do any of it. Love her I mean. But... I was miserable without her, I mean miserable. I don't think I could bear it again.” She pauses, and Laura wishes that she could see Lydia's face. “Being a mother sounds even more terrifying, but... she would be amazing at it, and... I don't know, maybe.”
Laura doesn't think she's breathed once in the last few minutes. Lydia never told her any of this, and she wants to throw something.
The only sound that comes from the kitchen is the coffee finishing percolating, and one of them—probably Lydia—digging around the cupboard for mugs. Zoey shifts a little against her, and it won't be long before she wakes up, the enticing smell of breakfast awaiting her.
“I'm scared of being a dad,” Scott says a minute later. “I think that's normal, though. I'm also really excited.” Laura can imagine the grin slipping onto his face. He's already bought more toys than his daughter is ever going to be able to play with. He comes home with some new thing almost every single day. Allison is about ready to kill him. “For what it's worth, I think you'd be good at it if it's something you want.” Lydia is silent. “But, if it's not... Laura is crazy in love with you, and that's not gonna make her stop. So don't be an idiot.”
“Asshole,” Lydia laughs, and Laura doesn't need to be able to see them to know that she has punched him in the shoulder.
Zoey lifts her head up, eyes barely open. “Aunt Laura?”
“Morning,” Laura whispers. There isn't much of a point, Scott's hearing is just as good as her own, and he calls out that pancakes are ready. That gets Zoey right up, launching herself off Laura's stomach with abandon. She grunts as Zoey runs past Lydia and into the kitchen. Lydia walks up and sits on the leg of the couch, a coffee mug in each hand. “That's my t-shirt,” Laura says. It's big on her, it's huge on Lydia. She grins at Laura, and it's adorable.
“It is,” she says with a small smile. “So, how long have you been awake?”
Laura slumps down a little. “Uh—”
“I know what your face looks like when you've just woken up, this isn't it.”
“I may have... heard a little,” Laura admits. Lydia's face is unreadable, and Laura tenses. “But I mean I didn't really—”
“You have super hearing Laura, don't try to pretend you didn't hear the whole thing perfectly.”
“I—”
“—Here,” Lydia passes over one of the mugs. A neon green gag gift she'd given Laura back in the first year they started dating. Laura smiles as she blows on the steaming coffee before sipping it.
“You know,” she says. “You were the one who pursued me. Just, for the record.” She tries to come off joking and light, masking the terror burgeoning underneath, but Lydia has always been able to read her better than anyone else. She always discerns that it's a banshee thing, but Laura suspects it might just be a Lydia thing.
“Pursued?” Lydia's eyebrows raise, and the smirk only relaxes Laura moderately.
“Well—”
Lydia leans down and kisses her, shutting her up. Thank god, because Laura has no idea what idiotic thing she had been about to say. “Relax,” she says afterwards. “Come eat pancakes.”
“Lydia—”
“—We've got some stuff to talk about later,” Lydia interrupts. “But I'm not going anywhere,” she says, sincerely. And all the tension in Laura's shoulders melts. “I couldn't anyway, my mom moved. I don't have anywhere else to live rent-free,” she jokes. Laura reaches up and pinches her lightly, a bright smile on her face.
“Bitch.”
“Oh!” Zoey jumps up on top of the couch. “Bad word!” she yells happily.
Lydia smirks. “You should punch her for it Zo.”
Zoey attempts to do just that, but Laura doges out of the way and hauls her up one-handed. Pushing her towards Lydia as the three of them head into the kitchen. Allison and her swollen belly are already planted at the table, a stack of pancakes in front of her. Laura deposits Zoey into Derek's arms as he stumbles into the kitchen, a yawning Cora right behind him.
Laura jumps up onto the kitchen counter, sipping the coffee Lydia made her as Scott calls Boyd and Erica down for breakfast. She laughs as Zoey stands up in her seat, jumping at Boyd as he and Erica walk into the kitchen. The boy doesn't say much, but his smile can light up an entire room, and Zoey is great at getting one out of him. The room becomes a mass of chaos as everyone grabs for pancakes, bacon, coffee, and bananas. Stiles comes flying through the front door, yelling hello in the erratic way that Laura has become somewhat fond of over the last few years, and Scott grins, throwing a pancake at his head.
She watches them all from her place up on the counter, and can't believe that eight years ago it had been just her and Derek, coming back to their ashen, broken, remains of their childhood home. After so many years of it being just the two of them, one shitty motel or apartment after another, it's surreal to be back in a full house again. Her home, full of people, full of a pack again. Her pack.
Lydia gets up and walks over to her, the borrowed t-shirt draping down past her knees. She pushes Laura's legs open a bit and leans back against her. Laura tugs at her t-shirt with a grin. “You look like a five-year-old in this,” she whispers. Lydia only quirks her eyebrows up and sips her coffee.
Laura wraps an arm around her and smiles. When she'd been a girl, she'd known her whole life she would grow up and lead the people that lived in this house. Be the matriarch after her mother. It had always felt very, very, far off into the future. Something that wouldn't happen until she was way over fifty or more. Certainly not eighteen and terrified. She never really felt like an alpha then, not once in the six years that she and Derek traveled. All her focus had just been to keep them moving. The first time she actually felt like an alpha was when a bunch of sixteen-year-olds barged their way into her house, demanding that she help them.
It's not the pack that she was supposed to have, but she could do a lot worse than a mercenary, a hunter, a twitchy human, the wolves that were always supposed to be there, and the wolves that weren't. Most of all, the banshee who's hand slips into her own, taking her empty coffee mug, refilling it, and tugging her off the counter. She pulls her down to sit with her family, never once releasing her hand for a minute.