Chapter Text
"I’m heading out for coffee, do you want anything?" Stiles called across the room to Lydia’s desk where he expected her to sit and type up their latest report.
"Lyds?", he called out again, without looking up from his own computer screen.
"Lydia?"
Still, Stiles didn’t get an answer.
Finally, he turned his head to the right, now knowing that Lydia wouldn’t be sitting on her usual chair.
Right. He forgot.
Instead of dwelling on long-established habits and routines that were bound to change, Stiles quickly turned off his screen and stood up to leave for that coffee he had been craving for far too long.
On his way out of the small but cozy office, he quickly turned the sign on the door that informed their clients of their absence, how long they could never say. Please call later or email anytime. At your service, Lydia Martin and Stiles Stilinski.
After years of hard work, meticulous planning and another move back to Beacon Hills, Stiles had finally achieved his dream. Their dream, really. It had been almost 2 full years since they opened their own detective agency, Martin-Stilinski Investigations. From nothing, the couple had built an office and made themselves a name in the ever-growing, and ever-changing town they grew up in.
This was what he had secretly dreamed of since junior year of high school. He liked remembering high school and the pack. Scott's pack. Malia. Kira. Isaac. Liam. Mason. Derek. Allison. And Lydia. Of course he remembered Lydia, remembered being obsessed with the smart beauty he wanted nothing more than to be seen by before Allison came along.
What Stiles didn't like about remembering high school was the pain, the destruction, the way he was ripped from his family, his pack, his home, not once but twice. Remembering junior year now hurt even more as he realized it had been 10 years since he started it. And here he was, right back in Beacon Hills, still fighting supernatural creatures attracted by the beacon he set off saving his dad.
It felt like it was his responsibility to guard the people of Beacon Hills, even though he knew this wasn't true. Malia had left. So had Scott, Liam, Mason. Lydia.
Getting lost in thought, he hadn't realised his feet carried him to his favourite coffee place, the more expensive one farther away from the office, not the shitty dark hole he usually went to to save money. Well, now that he was here it couldn't hurt to go inside and at least get a decent cup of coffee.
Upon entering the familiar space, it dawned on him that it actually wasn't anymore. He hadn't been here in a long time, a few months at least. They had changed the bar, the chairs, had painted the walls, actually, they had changed the whole room. Was he in the right coffee shop?
Realising he must look like a fool standing in the doorway of a normal café, closely inspecting the furniture and decorations, mouth agape and holding the door ajar, he paid a quick glance to the logo at the far end of the room and confirmed in his mind that this was indeed the coffee shop he had wanted to visit. Well, that his feet wanted him to visit.
Speaking of feet, he should probably use those to finally walk up to the bar to order. Stiles wasn't well today, if he was honest. He should probably do something about that, maybe-
"Hi, welcome to Andrew's what can I get for ya?"
A voice pulled Stiles out of his own mind in which he was getting lost once again.
"Oh, uh, hi!", he smiled at the barista, and not being able to help himself he asked, "When did you guys renovate? I love what you did with the place! Especially those lamps, they're spectacular!"
Both of them looked up at the light fixtures that looked like lightbulbs on a string.
"Oh, wait you wanted my order, right? So, I'll take...", Stiles interrupted the barista before they could even think of answering his many questions. Quickly scanning the board behind the barista so as not to annoy them even more, Stiles just blurted out the first thing that sounded not like black coffee and pulled out his wallet from his back pocket.
"That will be $5.35 please", the barista smiled at Stiles, rather amused than annoyed, "and it was back in April. I could ask my boss for the lamps if you want me to."
"Oh no that's okay! Thank you."
Stiles quickly swiped his card, already having forgotten about his rambling from before.
"Take away?" was another question Stiles wasn't prepared to answer, why didn't he think about all this before? Why didn't he just turn around and left to pick up his coffee at his usual place. Maybe he could've met Richard, he should be there around this time of day.
"Uh, no, I'll sit down here. Thanks," he smiled back warmly and now waited for his coffee to be made, now actually having the time to take in the place he frequented when he was in high school. And after, whenever he'd visit his dad. And then when he had moved back. And then he had stopped.
Now, he was sat at a table with almost no coffee stains, on a chair that was actually comfortable, drinking coffee that he was pretty sure was at least two thirds milk, and, strangely, ice? He guessed he just didn't understand the new coffee trends of gen z.
New beginnings everywhere, huh?
Well, not everywhere. He still had his company, his friends, his dad. His tiny apartment that took months to furnish while the office barely took them three days. He was always better at work-stuff than his private life, he thought. And he thought of Lydia and the life they'd built together over the past 9 years. Beacon Hills. DC. Cambridge. And everything in between. Stiles couldn't help but smile when yet another voice rudely interrupted his reminiscing that he seemed to be doing a lot lately.
"Excuse me, I was told you were wondering about the lamps?"
When Stiles looked up from the dark spot on his table he was focusing on he was stunned by the warm smile the man opposite from him gave him. So much so that all he could muster up was a quiet "Hm?" and an obvious tilt of the head.
"Oh, sorry. I'm Luke, I'm the new manager. Well, new isn't exactly correct but I guess for you I am. Anyway, you asked Sam about our lamps?" Luke explained quickly and gestured towards the bar where the barista still stood, now in a conversation with another customer.
"Right, yeah! Of course!" Stiles exclaimed when he understood and remembered his embarrassing almost-monologue from before. "Yeah, they're just really cool, I've been looking for new ones. I really like the style, it's sort of rustic."
"Industrial, actually. May I?" Luke now gestured towards the empty chair opposite Stiles and had already grabbed the back of it before Stiles could reply.
"Yes, please!"
Luke was really easy to talk to, Stiles thought after the conversation had been flowing for the past few minutes. Luke explained his design choices, and although Stiles really wasn't the interior design genius, following Luke's words came very natural to him.
Luke, as it turns out, was the previous owner's son. He had started working part-time for his dad just when Stiles had left for his internship. With his dad retiring, Luke happily took over the family business but decided to change some things about it. To be exact, he had changed everything. Everything except for the name.
"So, your dad's Andrew, I suppose?"
It pained Stiles to ask this, he had been coming here ever since he was allowed downtown without parental supervision. Him and Scott had spent hours in this room. Then it was him and Lydia. In-between it was the whole pack, and once or twice just him and Malia. But this was always a place for best friends more than lovers, he thought.
"No, actually, Andrew's my grandfather. And my brother. This place was actually founded by my grandfather. Andrew Winters, he started out selling coffee in a little truck just outside the library and moved in here after a few years. It's the best coffee in Beacon Hills!"
Stiles couldn't help but let out a slight chuckle. Every coffeehouse would say this about themselves.
"It's pretty good, I'll give you that," he smirked before taking another sip of his coffee that wasn't at all under threat of getting cold. Again, why is there ice in this?
"Anyway, I should probably get back to work. It might be my place, but the dishes won't do themselves," Luke joked while standing up from his seat, smoothing out his beige apron and pushing back the chair. Leaning on the back of the chair, flexing his muscles Stiles had to admit suited him very well, Luke added "It was nice to meet you, uh..."
"Stiles!"
"Stiles," Luke smiled again and took off, leaving Stiles and his now empty drink alone.
Stiles' walk back to the office was definitely more enjoyed than his walk to Andrew's, at least this time he was aware of where his feet were taking him. Or rather where he was taking his feet.
________________________________________
Stepping back into the office, Stiles remembered two things.
One, he still didn't know where Luke had gotten the lamps from.
Two, Lydia still wasn't here.
Coming back to the office felt like a punch in the gut. At work, he could largely ignore what was going on but now that Lydia wasn't there it felt like she had taken the very last part of their routine with her. Seeing two empty desks instead of just one made his insides churn, in an awfully bad way. So, did looking at the almost empty back-wall that was normally used as, what he calls, his "murder-wall". The murder-board had gotten an upgrade along with the rest of his childhood belongings.
It was just on Tuesdays, Stiles had to remind himself, now staring at the empty desk. Just Tuesdays, and sometimes Fridays. But not this Friday. And not tomorrow. Lydia would be here tomorrow.
He didn't know if it was a good idea, but he felt like messaging her.
Quickly, the pulled out his phone and took a picture of the office illuminated only by the sunlight streaming in through the big windows along one side of the office.
Stiles: *1 photo*
Stiles: you're missed. hope you're having a good day!
It only took Lydia until Stiles had gone from the entryway to the light switch to his desk to reply.
Lydia: *1 photo*
Lydia: so are you. it's going great here, how's work? any new cases?
Lydia had sent a beautiful picture of the campus of the University of Sacramento, the sun casting beautiful shadows onto the paths overrun with students.
Stiles couldn't help but smile.
Stiles: slow today, nobody's come in so far
Stiles: just finishing up some reports
And finishing up reports he did. It was the work he hated the most. He really was more of the thinking-type, while Lydia was more of the typing-type. To be fair, she also was the thinking-type. Nothing Lydia couldn't do.
Now that Lydia wasn't here, it was Stiles who had to go through the ordeal of recounting everything that had happened before and during their investigation. Type up recordings of accounts given, point out specific things on the picture of his murder-wall that, honestly, wasn't used for murder that often anymore, and, sometimes, adjust the truth just a little (or a little much), depending on the client's knowledge of the supernatural. They really didn't need to tell civilians about werewolves or banshees, so they'd just try to come up with the least confusing, most convincing explanation as to why their dog was too scared to go anywhere near the forest. (It was a family of goblins living near the old Hale house).
Everyone in Beacon Hills knew them as the people who could solve even the weirdest of mysteries that no one at the police department understood. After a few months of Noah referring the victims who seemingly supernatural cases to Stiles, people started coming to them for help directly. They know they're being talked about in all of Beacon Hills, but as much as they get weird looks at the store, they also get customers who are willing to pay quite the sum to uncover the source of their problems.
After a while, people started to come to Martin-Stilinski Investigations even for non-supernatural mysteries. People wanted their cheating spouses investigated, wanted to know where their children went after dark, someone was even suspicious of the raccoons that emptied their trash cans every night. Turns out, it really was just raccoons. Lydia had called animal control.
As it was nearing 6:30pm, Stiles was just finishing up writing the latest report on a suspected robbery that turned out to just be the son who had moved to college the week before. He printed the pages, signed the last one and went over to Lydia's desk so she could sign it as well and send it off to the family. Stiles was glad this was over. It wasn't a particularly hard case but having the father's picture stare at him from the murder wall had given him the chills on multiple occasions.
The last task of the day was to take those down as well. Very neatly, he rolled up the pieces of string (green) around his fingers, placed them in their designated drawer and continued to take down and carefully stack the pictures of victims, suspects, and stolen items on top of each other. Those, he placed into a folder alongside a second copy of the report.
This whole organization-system was all Lydia. Of course, during his time at the FBI, Stiles had learnt how to formally do, file, and archive an investigation, but when him and Lydia started furnishing their office, this system was one of Lydia's most important requests. Apart from this being an actual company and not just Stiles' bedroom, Lydia could only have peace of mind knowing their cases were all neatly filed so they could go back to them at any time.
Apart from case-folders, they also kept an unsuspicious-looking folder full of supernatural creatures they had encountered, heard of, or weren't even sure existed, alphabetized obviously.
Stiles was satisfied with how much work he had done today, but he couldn't wait for Lydia to be at the office with him tomorrow and to dive into the only other open case they had at the moment.
________________________________________
Stiles had already started cooking when Lydia entered their apartment, which he immediately stopped to navigate through their small apartment filled with memories and nick-nacks from their past and welcome Lydia home after her first day back at university.
Lydia's face lit up when she saw Stiles. He couldn't describe it in any other way. Her smile was as captivating as always, if not more.
He hugged her. She hugged him back, tightly.
They stayed like this for a few seconds during which Stiles quickly gave Lydia a peck on the cheek.
Shortly after that, Stiles ran back to the kitchen to look after the food he was making, shouting towards Lydia, "How was it? Tell me everything!" as she took off her coat and shoes.
Stiles loved hearing Lydia talk about things she was passionate about, even if he didn't understand a single thing about Mathematics and formulas.
"It was better than I ever expected! I was showed around in the morning, they even gave me my own office. Well, it's shared but Marcus is only there on Thursdays and Fridays, so it works out perfectly." Lydia started as she was setting the table.
She continued talking about her day, entering her classroom for the first time, and welcoming her new students. Lydia loved teaching. And it seemed like the freshmen loved learning from her today, by what she could read from their faces.
"I love it, Stiles, I just... This is the perfect school for me." Lydia smiled.
Stiles smiled back.
"I am so happy to hear that, Lyds. My day wasn't as eventful by far, I did finish up the Brandt report though."
They continued sharing anecdotes from their days over dinner, to be fair it was mostly Lydia talking, but she had every right to. Stiles was incredibly proud of her.
While making the dishes together, as they did most nights they ate together, Lydia reminded Stiles of their first appointments with their lawyers on Friday. He had forgotten, but he didn't want to tell her that. So, he stayed quiet and made a mental note to make an actual note in his phone later.
That was a thing Stiles still had to get used to. Lawyers. Appointments.
He despised it already.
"Anyway, I will go take a shower and then go to bed, actually. Are you good?" Lydia asked nonchalantly.
"Yep, sure! I'll be here if you need me," Stiles smiled as he was sitting down on the couch in their living room. And his bed for the night.
Actually, his bed for almost every night.
"Night, Stiles." Lydia waved towards him as she turned the corner into their hallway.
"Night, Lydia."
Love you.
Stiles settled down on the couch and put on a random TV program he couldn't focus on anyway has he heard the bathroom door click shut.
The second he closed his eyes, it hit him once again, as it did every night he didn't get to kiss her.
Him and Lydia really were getting divorced.
Him and Lydia were no longer him and Lydia.
Just him. And Lydia.
Best friends forever. Roommates temporarily.