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Throughout the years, Lydia had been through many “strange” situations in her twenty-six years of life. Thinking back on it, most of her adolescence could be labeled as strange by anyone who wasn’t from Beacon Hills.
But at that moment she wasn’t feeling “something supernatural is about to happen” strange, or “I have a banshee feeling that someone is dying” strange. No, at that moment she was finding the feeling of being alone in her childhood bedroom strange.
Lydia hadn’t been alone in her bedroom since her senior year of high school, almost eight years before. She hadn’t slept alone since getting Stiles back from that terrible Wild Hunt.
They had been through so much death and destruction together that she didn’t think that she would ever be able to stay anything less than a few miles away from him for the rest of her life. They had gone to Stanford together and, much to the annoyance of their roommates, taken turns sleeping in each other’s dorms.
High school might have been over, the danger might have been gone, but the wounds still felt fresh.
She laid back in her bed and looked at her ceiling. This is the last time I will ever spend away from him, she thought to herself. She turned her eyes to the white dress hanging on the door of her closet and butterflies fluttered in her stomach.
There was a light tap on the window. There was once a time when she would have jumped in surprise or been startled, but now she just hoped it wasn’t anything that went bump in the night.
Lydia got up and went to the window. Stiles was looking at her through the glass with expectant eyes. She gave him a look of amusement as she unlocked the window and slid it open.
“Don’t you know it’s bad luck to see a bride the night before the wedding?” She teased.
He chuckled, his whiskey eyes bright. “Let’s hope that the demon werewolves show up after the vows then.”
“Oh God, don’t jinx our wedding, Stiles.”
He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. His mouth tasted of beer and mint gum. “I’m hoping that the powers that be give us a well-deserved break tomorrow.” His hands slid around her waist and pulled her closer to his chest. She could feel his heartbeat vibrating against her ribs.
Lydia smiled and leaned her head on his chest. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too.”
“Are you ready dude?” Scott whispered in his ear.
Stiles’ eyes stared down the aisle. “I’ve been ready since the third grade.”
There was still a part of him that didn’t believe that Lydia Martin- the Lydia Martin-had enthusiastically agreed to be his wife. Despite the fact that Lydia hated weddings and marriage and everything that went with the whole institution, she had agreed to walk down the aisle and tie their souls together for the rest of eternity.
Stiles knew that he and Lydia were going to be together for the rest of their lives. He knew it from the first time she snuck into his bedroom in their senior year. They had both been tired of being alone.
Somewhere between the time when Lydia was bitten by an evil werewolf and when he was erased from existence, they had come to the conclusion that life is too short and way too deadly to be alone.
The string quartet started playing “The Wedding March” and Stiles was brought out of his reminiscence.
And God, she was a dream. If he was human then Lydia Martin was a goddess. If he was made of cells, she was made of stardust.
Lydia Martin glided down the aisle like the ground beneath her was unworthy of being touched. Her dress hugged her curves like a second skin, moving with her body like it was happy just to be near her. And her hair... Every strand of her strawberry blonde hair was floating around her like a halo made of sunsets.
Stiles Stilinski could have died right there and his life would have been worth it because his best friend, looking like the angel she was, was walking down the aisle to be his for the rest of their lives.
She smiled at him as she handed her bouquet to Kira and he thought his heart would explode. Her hands found their way into his, their fingers lacing. It was as if she was saying: I’ll never let go.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” the priest started. “We are gathered here today join Stiles Stilinski and Lydia Martin in holy matrimony. The bride and groom have asked to say write their own vows and that I keep the preaching to a minimum.” The small crowd laughed. “So without further ado, Lydia, would you begin?”
Lydia turned to face Stiles, her eyes glittering in the glow of the afternoon sun. “Stiles,” she started, “you told me that if I died, you would go out of your mind. Speaking as someone who has lost her mind multiple times, if I lost you, I don’t think I’d be able to survive. When we were eight, you grabbed my hand and told me that you would never let go. I thought you were annoying and crazy, which you were, but I never thought that someday I would want that to be true. I don’t love you because you love me so fiercely, I love you because you make me better. You make me want to be better. I want to be with you for the rest of my life, Stiles Stilinski, because I want to keep growing and learning and loving. I promise that I will be with you for the rest of my life and for whatever comes after. I promise to love you with every cell in my body and after I return to being nothing. I promise to be yours and yours for the rest of eternity.”
“Wow.” He managed to choke out. Even though Stiles had sworn to both his father and his groomsmen that he wasn’t going to cry, he was completely unashamed of the fact that there were tear tracks running down both of his cheeks. “Lyds,” his voice broke. “I fell in love with you the second I saw you. It wasn’t because you were the most beautiful girl that I had ever seen, because you were and you are, but because I could see that your heart was just so big. I wanted to be a part of that big heart of yours. I vow to be by your side through every hell this life throws at us. Lydia, if love was a tangible thing, our love would be made of star stuff.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles could see Melissa entwine her fingers through the Sheriff’s. Scott beamed proudly at him through tear stained eyes, and Kira looked like she was about to burst with happiness. In his mind, Stiles saw Allison, giving him the same look she had given him at the High School dance so long ago. He imagined that she would give him a look of approval. He hoped that she would.
The priest cleared his throat. “If that’s all, I’d like to get to the end.” The man motioned to Scott to bring out the rings. They had decided on gold bands, fashioned to look like tree branches. A final nod to the trials that they had endured. “Stiles Stilinski, do you take Lydia Martin to be your lawfully wedded wife? In sickness and in health; for richer or for poorer, till death do you part?”
Stiles took the ring from Scott and slipped onto Lydia’s ring finger, in front of the engagement ring that had once been Claudia Stilinski’s. “I do.”
“And do you, Lydia Martin, take Stiles Stilinski to be your lawfully wedded husband? In sickness and in health; for richer or for poorer, till death do you part?”
Lydia carefully slid the band onto Stiles’ finger. “I do.”
“Through the power invested in me, I now declare you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Stiles placed his hands on Lydia’s face, staring into her bottle green eyes, and gently placed his lips upon hers. She slid her arms around his waist and pulled him tighter into her.
Forever , he thought as their faces parted. We have forever.
The first morning of their honeymoon, Lydia woke up with the worst headache she had ever had.
“Why did we try to outdrink the werewolves?” She groaned into the pillow of the moderately expensive hotel in Hawaii that they had booked for their week of post-nuptial bliss.
“Because we’re idiots and Scott knows it.” Stiles grunted beside her.
“Were we still drunk on the plane?”
“Yes.”
“Did you throw up at the airport?”
“Possibly.” There was a pause. “Probably.”
“Did we end up having sex?”
“I think so?”
“You don’t remember?”
“We were pretty plastered, Lyds...”
“Want to do it again when the light doesn’t feel like knives?”
“God yes.”
If she paced around their apartment any more, she was sure that she would fall through the floor into the apartment below. This would be a problem for two reasons. The first was that the cost of repairing the floor of their apartment and the ceiling of the apartment below would cost them money that they, as newlyweds, did not have. The second was that the woman who lived below them was a living nightmare sent to them as punishment for all of their happiness.
The problem was that Lydia was never late.
Ever.
Even when she was at Eichen House getting holes dug into her skull by a deranged doctor, she was not late.
Lydia Martin was always on time. It was a point of pride with her. Stiles had even begun to follow her cycle so that he could get her ice cream and rent The Notebook for her when her period started.
At first, she thought it might have been all of the stress and excitement of the wedding and the honeymoon. Then she thought it was because she might be syncing with Michelle, her co-worker, since they had been working such long hours together. But when she threw up at the smell of the sardines that her boss brings every day to work, she got a pregnancy test on her way home from work.
Despite having peed on the damned stick, she refused to look at the result. Not without Stiles. They did everything together and she wasn’t going to start doing things without him now. Even if he was on a really important case and didn’t answer his phone right away. He was always home by 7:30 and it was 7:28.
She sat on their hideously tacky couch and started counting the wheel barrows on it. When they had first moved in together, Stiles had gotten it from a yard sale, claiming that it was “really comfortable”. The right side of the couch, however, had springs coming out of it and if you sat on it at just the right angle, they would stab you in the back. They had nicknamed it the “evil couch of pain and death”.
Lydia heard the door creak open. “Babe, I’m home!” She heard him yell into the apartment. “I heard you called the precinct. We were on a stakeout and my phone died on me.”
She stood up, straightening her shirt. “Get over here, Stiles.”
He peered into the living room, his eyes furrowed in confusion. “What’s up?”
“Sit your ass down on the death couch.” She ordered. Stiles still looked confused but he obeyed, careful to avoid the stupid springs. “I took a pregnancy test and I want us to look at it together.”
Stiles paled of a second but quickly shook it off. “Yeah.” He nodded. “Together.” Lydia sat down next to him on the couch and he slid his arm around her waist, making her feel better instantly. “Wait.” He said. “Whatever happens, I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Together, they placed their hands on the little plastic wand and turned it over. Together, their eyes widened.
“I’M GOING TO BE A FATHER!” Stiles screamed at the top of his lungs. “I’M GOING TO BE A DAD!” He pulled Lydia to her feet and kissed her with the fiery passion of a thousand suns. “We’re going to be parents, Lyds.”
His smile was infectious. Lydia couldn’t help but jump with him as he celebrated. “I still have to go to a doctor to confirm it. It could just be a false positive.”
He was wild. His hair danced around his face in utter glee. “I have a feeling. This feels real. We’re going to have a baby, Lyds. A baby.”
“You and me, in human form.”
“This kid is going to be so messed up.”
Stiles slipped his hand under her chin and brought her eyes up to his. “No, Lyds. He’s going to be made of stars.”