Chapter Text
A low whimper was what woke Lydia at first. In her half asleep state, she noticed the absence of warmth around her. A chill drove her to do something about it. She rolled over, searching blindly for the soft mass of heat she knew was beside her. She snuggled into it once she found it. Something seemed off about it though. She slowly opened her eyes, blinking away the last bits of sleep. The room was still dark. The alarm clock on the dresser read 1:58 in a bright red that stood out against the black of the night. She laid there, just listening for a moment. In the still of the silence, she realized what was different. It was his breathing. Stiles’ breathing, to be exact. It wasn’t the slow, even inhales and exhales one normally took while asleep. His breaths were rapid and growing shallower. They began to sound almost gasp-like. He squirmed beside her, as though he was in pain. The occasional mutter and whimper escaped his lips as he did.
Stiles was having a nightmare. She knew that much immediately. Although they didn’t come as frequently for him as they once did, he still had a couple every few months. They happened even if Lydia was around. She thanked whatever lucky stars they had that his nightmares weren’t as bad as before. It was still painful to see him go through it or to wake up to panicked screams and gasping breaths in the middle of the night. She just wished they would stop completely, so he would never have to go through another one again. It hurt her to see him in so much pain from something that wasn’t real.
Lydia placed her hand on his arm gently and shook him a little.
“Stiles? Stiles?” she whispered. “Stiles, wake up.”
His eyelids flew open at her touch and he gasped for air. His panicked gaze darted about for a second, assessing the room around him. His whiskey-golden eyes stilled when they fell on Lydia’s emerald ones. The fear faded from them and a mixture of confusion and relief replaced it.
“Lydia?”
“Shhh, Stiles. You were having a nightmare. Are you alright?”
She reached her hands up to the sides of his face, running her thumb down his cheek and along his jaw line in soothing strokes. She supported his chin with the other. A blush had turned his cheeks red and hot under her fingers.
Stiles heaved a sigh and he closed his eyes. His hands came up to the creases of her elbows. He gripped the fabric of the old, blue plaid shirt of his she liked to wear like it was a raft and he was sinking. He knew she wouldn’t admit out loud that she liked it because of the comforting, worn in feel it had and that his smell clung to it no matter how often it got washed. His thumbs made small circles on her forearms while continued to he evened out his breathing.
“Yeah. I think so.” Stiles paused, opening his eyes and looking right at Lydia. He gave her a smile tinged with sadness. “Thanks.”
She pursed her lips, the corners lifting into a smile. She let her gaze drift from his for a second, embarrassed. “It was… It was nothing. Go back to sleep Stiles. Get some rest. You need it.”
Stiles settled back underneath the sheets. He wrapped his arms around Lydia’s shoulders and hugged her closer to him. He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead.
“Might seem like nothing to you, but it’s everything to me. G’Night Lyds.”
Even as she slept, Lydia never stopped smiling.