Chapter Text
It all started when Lydia received a letter from MIT. She hadn't planned on telling anyone about it. Her mind had already been made up. She was going to Berkeley with Allison, Stiles, and Danny. The pack had started looking into apartments in that area so they could all stay together. Ethan, Aiden, Cora, and Scott had been accepted to The University of San Francisco. Isaac was still undecided about what college he wanted to attend. She had heard him mention culinary schools before but as far as she knew, nothing ever came of it. Even Derek was going to be taking some courses at the community college in San Francisco. Everything was going to be perfect.
The letter came on a Tuesday. It was mixed in with an array of envelopes, all different sizes and various shades of white. Each one with it's own unique return address. Lydia mindlessly sorted through the pile. Taking out the ones with her name on it and placing them onto the kitchen table. She knew what most, if not all, of them were going to say. 'Congratulations! You've been accepted to University Name Here!' It's not that Lydia wasn't grateful for the opportunities they were willing to give her. She was. Academics were important to her. While it's true that Lydia spent most of her high school career trying to hide how intelligent she was, she never let it actually affect her grades. And it wasn't until she had gotten to know Stiles that she really stopped playing down her intelligence. Stiles understood her. He saw Lydia for who she was. Yes, Lydia Martin was gorgeous. She was the Queen of Beacon Hills High School and she had everyone eating out of the palm of her hand. But she was also extremely smart, genius even. She knew the exact chemical mixture for a Molotov Cocktail and learned Archaic Latin simply because she was bored of regular Latin. Stiles could not only see through her facade but appreciated every single inch of who Lydia was. He knew Lydia was an extraordinary human being and they became very close. Which was one of the reasons she chose to stay with the pack. She had found a family in this group of misfits, who would have never come together if not for their unique circumstances. And Lydia, could not be more thankful for those unique circumstances. She wasn't about to give them up.
“Oh! Are those from the colleges you applied to?” Lydia's mother asked as she walked into the kitchen, startling Lydia and causing her to redirect her train of thought.
“Uhm, yeah. They are. But I already got my letter from Berkeley, so the point in opening them is kind of moot.” Lydia pursed her lips and shifted her eyes to look at her mother, who was now seated on the opposite side of the table. Lydia ignored the disapproving expression on her mother's face. It was no secret that Mrs. Martin didn't like her daughter's choice in friends. On more than one occasion, she had found them sneaking into Lydia's room through the window at all hours of the night. It was only natural she dislike a band of rowdy teenagers who refused to use the front door.
“Sweetie, I wish you'd reconsider. You could go so far with the right education and people in your life.” Lydia knew her mother meant well but she couldn't help glaring at her. This was Lydia's choice to make and she was going to choose whatever made her happy. Why couldn't her mother accept that?
“I already told you, I'm going to Berk –” Lydia froze when she saw the envelope with the Massachusetts return address. Lydia stared wide-eye at the envelope from MIT. It was the college she had planned on going to before Jackson...
“Lydia? Sweetie, what is it?” Lydia could feel the concern in her mother's words.
“It's from MIT.” She was whispering so quietly, it was barely audible. She hadn't meant for the words to come out that way, but they got caught some where in her throat.
“Please speak up Lydia.” Mrs. Martin scolded. She hated when people mumbled. Lydia knew that, but her voice seemed to be failing her.
“It's from MIT.” Lydia finally managed to choke out. She quickly placed her finger under the flap at the corner of the envelope and tugged at the glue until it was opened. When she unfolded the letter, tears started to rim her eyes, threatening to overflow and spill onto her cheeks.
“Well?” Mrs. Martin awaited anxiously.
“They want to offer me a full academic scholarship.” Her voice breaking at all the wrong parts. Lydia read the first line over and over again.
Dear Lydia Martin, Congratulations! You've been chosen to receive a full academic scholarship to Massachusetts Institute of Technology.
Dear Lydia Martin, Congratulations! You've been chosen to receive a full academic scholarship to Massachusetts Institute of Technology.
Dear Lydia Martin, Congratulations! You've been chosen to receive a full academic scholarship to Massachusetts Institute of Technology.
The words repeating in her head until she couldn't hold back her tears anymore. Lydia placed a hand over her mouth as tear drops began to dampen the thick paper she clutched in the other. A scholarship. She thought to herself. I got a scholarship, and it made her entire body rattle and shake with sobs.
“Lydia, a full scholarship! This is wonderful! I have to call your father.” Mrs. Martin was too excited to see how torn apart Lydia was. Ignoring her mother's praise, she stalked up the stairs and into her room. She began pacing, too much misplaced nervous energy to be sitting still. Lydia knew she only had two options. She could tell the pack about getting into MIT and risk losing them. Or pretend the letter simply doesn't exist and go to Berkeley, stay with her pack, her family. Making a silent oath to herself, Lydia tore the envelope holding the letter into four pieces and threw it into the trash can beside her bed. Her decision was final.
Knock. Knock.
“Hello Mrs. Martin.” Stiles smiled and raised his hand to wave at the nicely dressed older women standing in the door way.
“Hello Stiles. I see you've learned how to use the front door.” Mrs. Martin said with exasperation. She scrutinized him for a moment.
“Ah, yes! It's been a rough 18 years.” He just couldn't resist.
“Right. Okay. What do you want Stiles?” Apparently she could.
“Is Lydia home? We have a study date.” Stiles rubbed at the back of his neck.
“Yes, she's in her room. Make sure to congratulate her on getting into MIT.” Stiles could see the smug smile on her face. She really disliked him. She really disliked all of them, but mainly Stiles, for reasons he still couldn't figure out. Mrs. Martin moved to the side and held the door open so Stiles could enter her home. He shot her another quick smile and swiftly walked towards the stairs that lead to Lydia's bedroom. Before he even made it to the door, he could hear the furious tearing of paper and a drawn out sigh. Something wasn't quite right.
“Lydia? Is everything okay?” Stiles asked, gently tapping on the door. He had only seen Lydia distressed a few times in all the years that he'd known her. Lydia was ruled by logic. Even in the most dire situations, she was calm and composed and thought everything through before taking any action. Lydia rarely even cried and when she did, it certainly wasn't in front of anyone. Just as he was about to knock again, Lydia opened the door. Cheerful but obviously fake smile plastered on her face.
Lydia was the master of false facial expressions. She could contort her features to display any emotion she saw fit and pull it off famously. She could fool anyone. Except Stiles. She could never fool Stiles. He knew her too well.
“Of course everything's okay! I'm Lydia Martin.” Her smile becoming devilish as she welcomed Stiles into her room.
“Yeah. Right.” Stiles rolled his eyes and fell back onto Lydia's bed. Arms stretched out to either side and legs planted solidly on the ground. Closing his eyes and soaking in the familiar comfort that was associated with pack, he immediately began to drift off. It was unusual for Stiles to be still but Lydia had the most comfortable bed he had ever had the pleasure of laying on. They had frequent study dates that turned into movies night and ended as sleep overs because Lydia's bed was fucking heaven and Stiles could not help but be overcome with comfort riddled exhaustion every time he laid on it.
“So what's the plan for tonight Little Red?” A nickname Lydia had so kindly bestowed upon him after he told her about his feelings for Derek. She laid down beside him, resting her head on his chest. She could instantly feel a wave of calm wash over her. Being around Stiles usually had that effect.
“Well, the plan was to actually study with everyone. Scott is terrified he's not going to pass his Econ midterm.” Stiles snorted as he began to lazily run his fingers through Lydia's perfect strawberry blonde curls.
“Sounds about right.” Lydia laughed into Stiles' chest, causing his entire body to shake. She let out a pleased sigh and nuzzled closer to him, the warmth from his body making her sleepy.
“I think you should go.” Lydia hadn't realized how close to sleep she was until Stiles spoke.
“Hmm? Go where?”
“MIT. I think you should go to MIT.”
“I'm going to Berkeley with you and Allison. Why doesn't anyone seem to grasp that concept?” Lydia didn't even attempt to hide the annoyance in her voice. She thought she had made that very clear. She was going to Berkeley. She was staying in California. She was going to live in a crowded apartment with her pack. She had made up her mind.
“Because I know you better than that. MIT is your dream, Lydia.”
“Was.” She quickly corrected him, sitting up and folding her arms over her chest. Suddenly not in the mood to be close to him.
“Is, Lydia. MIT is your dream. It has been since middle school.” Stiles glared at her as he joined her at the edge of the bed.
“Yeah, well dreams change, Stiles.” Lydia shook her head and was immediately thankful that there weren't any werewolves in the room to hear her heart fumble over the lie. Because yes, MIT is her dream. It always would be. And two years ago, she wouldn't have given a second thought to accepting MIT's offer. There hadn't ever been a reason for her to stay in Beacon Hills after high school. There wasn't anything there for her after that. She could survive without her parents. They hadn't felt like a family in a very long time. Beacon Hills would always be her hometown but it never felt like home. Nothing tied her there. Within the first year of being away, Beacon Hills would have barely been a memory. But then everything changed. Everything is different. Jackson is...
Stiles knew that. How could he possibly expect her to just leave?
“You're going to change the world, Lydia Martin. You're going to succeed no matter what school you go to. But this, this is MIT you're talking about giving up.” Stiles' voice was gentler now as he reached to pull her into a hug.
“I know, Stiles. But I can't just leave. Not after everything that's happened.” Lydia wrapped her arms around Stiles' waist and squeezed him tightly.
“Besides, you would all fall apart without me around.” She lifted her head to smirk at him. Stiles rolled his eyes and let out a sigh, placing a kiss a to her temple. He wasn't going to give up without a fight and that made Lydia love him even more.
It took Stiles two weeks to mention MIT to Lydia again.
They were sitting in his bedroom, watching reruns of Friends and (attempting) to study for an AP English exam. The two of them were huddled together in the middle of the bed with Stiles' comforter wrapped tightly around them. They lay with their stomachs pressed against the sheets, propped up on their elbows to get a better view of the open laptop in front of them. Lydia's hair was pulled back into a loose messy bun that sat lazily atop her head, wisps of red framing her face. She wore a pair of maroon sweat pants (that she stole from Isaac) with 'Beacon Hills' in thick white letters that climbed from her left calf to the middle of her thigh. They were two sizes too big and hung low on her hips, bunching up at the bottoms and completely covering her feet. The sleeves of her hoodie (that she stole from Stiles) were balled in her fists, creating a warm cocoon for her always cold hands. They sit quietly together for a while, only moving to shake the sleep from their limbs.
“Has your mom brought up MIT?” Stiles is the first to break the comfortable silence between them, as always.
“Um, not really. I've been avoiding her for the most part. She'll just try to send me to a therapist again for having an 'unhealthy codependent relationship' with my friends.” Lydia rolled her eyes and turned away from Stiles.
“Have you thought about it anymore?” He wiggled and tried to bump his hips into hers to regain her attention.
“There's nothing to think about, Stiles.” She stated nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders, still facing away from him.
“Come on Lyds. Stop acting like this isn't a big deal.”
Lydia ignored him and continued watching the episode that was playing. She wasn't going to have this conversation. She refused.
“You know he would – “ Lydia quickly snapped her head back and was now facing Stiles. He could see the array of emotions displayed on his face.
“Don't. Just, don't.” It was all she had to say to stop him dead in his tracks. He knew it was a touchy subject, it would always be a touchy subject.
“Okay, I'm sorry. I just – I don't want you to give up on your dream Lydia. This is an amazing opportunity for you.” Stiles was now sitting up, his head bowed and shaking as he fidgeted with his hands.
“Also, if you're across the country, you might stop stealing everyone's clothes.” He smirked, narrowing his eyes at her and tugged on the hoodie that was draped loosely over her tiny frame. Stiles pressed a kiss to the mess of hair on her head and turned back to the laptop screen.
Falling back into their comfortable silence, Lydia rested the side of her face on her folded forearms and just looked at him. Trying to imagine her life without seeing him every single day, without him constantly being there. Trying to remember how she ever survived without him all those years before. Sure, her and Allison were close. You could even say they were best friends. But it was different with Stiles. Everything was always different with Stiles.
“I love you, you know.” It was barely a whisper.
“I know, Lyds. I know.” Stiles turned away from the screen to half smile at her and nod his head as he spoke. Lydia shifted, cuddling closer to him. The warmth from his body wrapping around her like tree branches, swaying her softly into a restful sleep.
When Lydia wakes up the next morning, Stiles is curled around her. His arm resting heavily on her waist, his head laid down on the pillow beside her; forehead pressing into the fabric of her (his) sweatshirt. The sun is just barely peaking through the closed curtains and directly onto their backs. She doesn't exactly remember falling asleep at the foot of the bed but Stiles is beside her and he knows better than to wake her up before she's ready. She does notice the pillow that's haphazardly shoved underneath her head, it hadn't been there before. It was either Stiles or the Sheriff who placed it there.
Lydia (along with the rest of the pack) had become a permanent fixture in the Stilinski household. After everything Jennifer and the Alpha pack put the town through, the Sheriff decided that Stiles needed to tell him everything in order to keep the town safe. It took some getting used to but for the most part John warmed up quickly to the pack and once he and Melissa started dating, the Stilinski residence seemed to became everyone's home away from home; especially for Lydia.
This morning isn't much different than any other Saturday morning. Lydia wakes up before Stiles, as always and makes her way down stairs and into the kitchen to help John out with breakfast. There's a lot of mouths to feed and she knows he'll appreciate the help.
The pack isn't much for traditions, being made up of mostly teenagers and all. But they do have one and it is Lydia's favorite. Saturday Morning Brunch.
It started out as a McCall-Stilinski only kind of thing when John and Melissa started dating, a way to get the boys used to the idea of their parents seeing one another. (Not that it needed any getting used to. Stiles and Scott practically started introducing themselves as brothers the second they found out.) That, of course, didn't last long though.
It started with Allison. Scott begged his Mom with those big, brown, puppy dog eyes he wears so well, paired with a perfectly placed pout and of course Melissa caved.
Then it was Lydia, who had accidentally fallen asleep after one of her and Stiles' sessions with Deaton and woke up the next morning to the sound of bacon sizzling and the smell of freshly brewed coffee. When she made her way down the stairs and into the kitchen, mouth watering and stomach grumbling, John gave her a small smile, nodding towards the coffee mug already placed on the counter next to where he was cooking.
Stiles pleads with John to invite Derek and because Derek has a soft spot for Stiles, he accepts and by the second month of them keeping up with their weekly brunch, the entire pack has a place set at the table.
So 'a lot of mouths to feed' was kind of an understatement. Plus, she enjoys being around John. He's kinder than most people and funnier than you'd expect. He's a good man with a good heart and Stiles is very lucky to have him, they all are.
“Good morning Lydia.” John's says brightly without looking up from the half cooked scrambled eggs he's pushing around the skillet.
“Morning. Anything I can help with?” Lydia smiles back as she walks towards the kitchen sink to wash her hands.
“If you could put those cinnamon buns onto that pan,” – John points towards the fridge and then to the thin cookie sheet next to the sink, “and into the oven, that would be great.”
“Alright, no problem.” Lydia nods and goes about fiddling with the settings on the stove. She's not much of a cook, never has been, never needed to be. John usually gives her something small to do. Brew the coffee, set the table, bake the rolls or cinnamon buns; that sort of thing. She might have taken it as an insult to her intelligence, had she not already attempted making brunch all by herself and failed miserably. After she almost burned the kitchen down, the Stilinski men forbid her from cooking food in their house ever again. (Not that she minded, both John and Stiles were excellent cooks.)
“So Stiles tells me you got a full scholarship to MIT.” Lydia freezes, uncooked cinnamon bun clutched in her hand, mid air. Fucking Stiles.
“Of course he did.” She says it more to herself than to John.
“He also told me you're thinking about not accepting it.” She can hear the shift in his voice. From sheriff to father in 2.5 seconds.
“I'm going to Berkeley.” Lydia shrugs her shoulders and places the cinnamon bun on the sheet, doing her best not to face John. Sometimes he could read her almost as well as Stiles could.
“They're not going to replace you Lydia.”
“I know. I'm not worried about that.”
“Then what is it? They're not going to be angry with you either.”
“I know. I – I just – I can't leave them.” Lydia can feel the hot sting of tears forming in her eyes. She thinks John must have noticed when he redirects the conversation quickly.
“How does your mom feel about your decision to stay in California?” He turns and raises an eyebrow at her.
“She's not too happy about it but it's not her choice to make.” Lydia sighs and shakes her head briefly. They both go back to preparing brunch for the pack without another word.
Just as they hear Stiles begin to stir upstairs John turns to face Lydia and says, “Look, you're a smart girl Lydia. You know what you're giving up and you know that I'm going to support you no matter what but I want you to really think about this. Don't think about how it'll effect the pack or Stiles or your parents. Just think about what you want, how much you would really be giving up by not accepting this scholarship. This is a once in a life time chance and I don't want you to regret your decision in the future.”
“How do you know I'm not going to regret leaving?”
“Because we're your family. We are always going to be your family and if you do decide to go, we're going to be here when you get back.” John places his hands on her shoulders and pulls her in for a hug. Lydia breathes in deeply, trying to calm herself.
“Morning Dad, Lyd – did I miss something?” Stiles comes flying down the stairs, all knees and elbows, clearly confused by the picture in from of him.
“No, you didn't miss anything Stiles. Lydia and I were just talking.” John pulls back from Lydia and smiles at her the same way he does Stiles.
“Alright, if you say so.” Stiles throws his hands up and walks toward the fridge.
“Would you get out of there, I'm in the middle of making food.”
“But I'm a growing boy and I'm hungry. Besides, no one else is even here yet.” John rolls his eyes at Stiles.
“Stiles.” And it's all Lydia has to say for him to back away from the fridge.
“Fine. Just so you know, I would have never brought you home if I knew you were going to take his side all the time.” Stiles makes a face at his best friend as he walks into the living room. Lydia sticks her tongue out at the back of his head and John rolls his eyes in the fondest way possible at the two of them.
“I'm going to go get ready.” Lydia says as she walks up the stairs and into the bathroom with a bounce in her step. Saturday's really were her favorite.
Melissa and Isaac were the first to arrive. They had gotten very close over the last couple of years after Melissa decided to adopt him. Isaac hadn't had anyone else aside from the pack and Derek was having enough trouble trying to get custody of Cora. When the Alpha pack were at their most dangerous, Melissa filed for adoption and without anyone to contest she was granted full guardianship of Isaac. In the midst of all the madness, it was a weight lifted off their shoulders. Isaac had a home and a legal family who loved him and would take the necessary precautions to protect him. It was more than he had ever hoped for.
“Hey Mel! No Scott?” Lydia asked as she opened the front door and saw only Melissa and Isaac.
“He spent the night at Allison's last night. So they should be on their way soon.” Melissa smiled and pulled her in for a hug.
“Well come on in, Dad's almost done with the food.” Lydia stepped to the side, holding the door open for them. Lydia had taken to referring to John as Dad while talking to the pack.
“Oh speaking of food, Isaac made a little something to go with his big news.”
“Big news? What big news? Who has big news?” Stiles came walking out of the living room with his hand in a bag of chips.
“Stiles!” Lydia shouted at him as he entered her line of sight.
“What? Oh. The chips. Right.” He turned quickly and begin to walk back into the living room. Lydia grabbed him by the collar of his t-shirt before he could get very far though. Stiles stumbled back and dropped the bag of Lays all over the kitchen floor.
“Lydia did that!” Stiles shouted and pointed his finger up at his best friend.
“No I didn't! Shut up Stiles.” Lydia rolled her eyes at him.
“You'd think you two were actually related.” Melissa laughed at the both of them.
“I don't care who did it, as long as I don't have to pick it up.” John walked into the kitchen from the dinning room, holding a mug of coffee in each hand and shaking his head at the mess of chips on the floor.
“Good morning Mel, Isaac.” He said as he handed Melissa one of the mugs, kissing her on the cheek and clapping Isaac on the back.
“Morning John. Where should I put these?” Isaac nodded and held up the Tupperware container.
“There should be some room in the fridge.” John absentmindedly pointed towards the far left corner of the kitchen.
“Here. I can take it.” Lydia gestured for him to give her the container. Just as he did, Scott came barreling through the front door with Allison in tow.
“Sorry we're late, food done? I'm starving.”
“Good morning to you too, Scotty.” Stiles wiggles his eyebrows at Scott and moves forward to give Allison a hug.
“Morning Melissa. Morning John.” Allison smiles sweetly at them as she taps Scott upside his head.
“Hey! What was that for?” Scott asks in mock offense.
“You're being rude.” Allison shrugs innocently and kisses his cheek, causing him to instantly forgive her.
“Good morning Mom, good morning John. Is the food ready?” He asks hopefully.
“Scott!” Melissa and Allison shout in unison.
“What?! I'm hungry.” He frowns to the room at large.
“We're still waiting for Derek!” Stiles yells and immediately regrets it, turning various shades of red. Stiles liked to pretend it wasn't glaringly obvious that he had feelings for a certain werewolf but when you run with a pack of them, things like attraction and arousal rarely go unnoticed.
“And Cora and Aiden and Ethan and Danny.” Lydia rolls her eyes.
“Right. That's what I said.” Stiles puts one hand on his hip and uses the other to gesture wildly, which leads to various eye rolls and shaking heads and tender smiles.
“Oh you all suck.” Stiles spits out and sulks off into the living room, content with waiting for the rest of the pack to get there away from everyone else.
“Well then. I'll take those now.” Lydia huffs, turning to Isaac and taking the container from his hands. Their fingers brush lightly and for no more than a second but Lydia feels something travel through her. A small shock, like the static that gets transferred when touching someone after going down a plastic slide. Lydia's breath hitches and her heartbeat stutters for a moment and it feels familiar and foreign all at once. She isn't sure if Isaac felt it but if he did, he doesn't say anything. After she recovers, Lydia smiles sweetly at Isaac and hastily walks into the kitchen, theory and logic already swirling around in her head.
Derek, Cora, and Aiden arrive together, followed by Danny and Ethan. Once they say their hello's and get settled in, the pack quickly descends on the meal the Sheriff had prepared for them. Lydia strategically positions herself between Stiles and Isaac in the hopes of 'accidentally' touching him again, simply for experimental purposes. It could be anything, really. Her magic acting up or a new ability coming in. Maybe even the beginnings of a premonition being presented in a different way (which would be much appreciated in her opinion). Or it could be absolutely nothing. She was hoping for the latter.
The pack finishes their meal, eating far too much and spewing out thanks and appreciation but lacking in offers to help clean up. Isaac stays behind to help John, Melissa, Allison, and Lydia clear the table while the rest of the pack all pile onto the two couches and one reclining chair in the Stilinski living room, turning it into a mess of limbs and food-coma ridden grunts. Isaac offers to wash the dishes and Lydia takes it as an opportunity to test her theories and declares she's going to help with drying.
“I think this might be the only house in Beacon Hills without a dishwasher.” Lydia scrunched up her nose as she emptied plates of mushed together food into the trash.
“I don't think Derek's loft had one either. To be fair though, I don't think he even owned any dishes. He's not much of a cook.” Isaac supplied, turning to smirk at Lydia.
“I could see that.” She said pursing her lips for a moment and scrunched her nose again. She really hated cleaning up after other people.
“Here, let me do that. You can fill up the sink.” Isaac laughed and reached over to take the plate from her hands, their fingers touching and another spark rushed through her. This time though, she knew Isaac felt it. Lydia could hear the interruption in the usual steadiness of his breathing, the uptake of his heart beat.
Isaac stumbled back a little, dropping the plate he had taken from her hands and watching as it shattered once it hit the tile that made up the kitchen. The sound of it hitting the floor alerted the rest of the pack. Melissa and John hurried into the kitchen to see what all the racket was about.
“Ah fuck. I'm sorry. I can be so clumsy sometimes.” Isaac bent down and quickly began picking up the broken shards of glass that littered the area surrounding them.
“It's okay Isaac. Are you two alright?” Melissa asked her voice leaking with motherly affection.
“Yeah. Yeah, we're fine. Just a little accident.” Lydia faked a smiled and helped Isaac clean up the mess. Whatever caused the feeling, concerned her but there was no reason to worry everyone else. She would have to mention it to Stiles and then Deaton at their next session.
“Alright. And don't worry about the dishes, I'll get Scott to do them before he leaves.” Melissa smiled, winking at them and headed back into the dinning room. Isaac and Lydia exchanged a look that felt a lot like shared distress.