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After they'd eaten their French toast, Lydia gathered the clothes that had been hanging in the bathroom and left, but not before kissing Stiles one more time. It was quick like the first one an hour before, but it left Stiles more dazed than the first, and he stood frozen on the front porch. He only moved when the patrol car pulled into the driveway. Blinking rapidly, he found himself face to face with his dad.
"You okay, kid?"
Running a hand over his face, Stiles nodded.
"Uh, yeah Dad. Just thinking."
"On the porch? In your pajamas?"
Stiles shrugged and rushed upstairs, leaving Sheriff Stilinski on the porch, shaking his head. He loved his son, and was incredibly glad he hadn't lost him, but he wasn't sure he'd ever understand him.
Once he was in his bedroom, Stiles threw himself onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He caught a whiff of Lydia's perfume, and smiled for a second before his mind went into overdrive. Sitting up, he stared down at his hands, breathing heavily, and started counting.
"7, 8, 9, 10."
When he reached 10, he counted again, and was about to start a third time when his phone buzzed from the bedside table.
Opening the message, he found a picture of Lydia, still wearing his sweatshirt, smiling up at him.
Consider this a formal notice that I've taken your hoodie hostage, and I don't plan to return it.
Her message made him smile, and he responded with a quick noted, before laying back down.
Stiles spent more time than he'd care to admit laying in his bed that day, switching between counting his fingers, staring at the picture Lydia had sent him, which he'd saved to his phone.
He made his way downstairs as the sun began to set, still in his pajamas, and settled heavily into one of the kitchen chairs.
His dad turned from where he'd been rooting through the fridge and sat down across from him, knowing something was on his mind.
"Something you want to talk about, Stiles?"
"I think I might be dating Lydia."
John's eyes widened for a moment, and then a smile spread across his face.
"Yeah? That's great, kid."
Stiles grunted noncommittally, shrugging.
"I guess."
"Did I miss something, Stiles? You've been waiting for Lydia to notice you since third grade, when you let her borrow your crayon and decided she was your soulmate."
Sighing, Stiles leaned his head against his hand.
"Yeah, I guess. I just feel like this isn't real, like it's just a dream that I'm going to wake up from."
Shaking his head, John leaned across the table and squeezed Stiles' shoulder.
"Listen, Stiles. I know after everything that happened, it seems like nothing good can happen, but trust me. I've seen the way she looks at you, I've seen the way you two are together these days. It's real, kiddo."
"Thanks Dad."
Sheriff Stilinski knew his son well enough to know that he was just appeasing him, but he let it go for now, hoping that he'd see the light, or that Lydia herself would understand Stiles' hesitation.
-----
After a few rounds of Call of Duty with Scott and Isaac that he barely paid attention to, Stiles laid in bed, squeezing his eyes shut and hoping that when he woke up, the picture of Lydia would still be saved in his phone. He'd appreciated his father's talk, but there was a part of him that still had a hard time believing that good things could still happen to him. No matter how long the Nogitsune had been expelled from him, he had a feeling there'd always be a part of him that doubted his happiness.
He'd managed to sleep through the night, and checked his phone, smiling slightly when he found Lydia staring up at him, the last picture saved to his phone. His dad didn't say much to him at breakfast, only smiling and wishing him luck at school before heading to his room to get dressed.
He finds Scott and Allison at his locker, and if he didn't know any better, he'd say Allison's smile is more of a smirk, meaning she's spoken to Lydia since yesterday. Stiles does his best to smile back, unlocking his locker and grabbing his books. He hears the telltale click of Lydia's heels on the tile, and closes his eyes, trying to keep his breathing even.
Stiles feels a hand on his shoulder, and from the temperature, knows it's Scott, who's probably heart the uptick of his heartbeat.
"You okay, buddy?" Stiles nods, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment and taking one last breath, before closing his locker and nodding. He finds Lydia talking to Allison, but she looks up and meets his eyes for a second, smiling up at him before continuing her conversation. Stiles does his best to return the smile, mumbling something about talking to Coach before making his exit down the hall.
He's deep in thought during first period Math, glad for once that none of his friends share the class with him, and finds himself sitting in the bleachers by the lacrosse field a few minutes after the bell rings, needing time to himself instead of being stuck in the crowded study hall. He's staring at the picture of Lydia when someone settles into the seat next to him.
"Are you going to tell me why you're avoiding Lydia, or am I going to have to use the ring dagger I have in my bag?"
Stiles looks up to see Allison's smiling face, but he's known her long enough to realize that she isn't kidding. Shrugging, he puts his phone away and stares at the field.
"Stiles, did something happen after she left?"
Shaking his head, he sighs.
"I just don't get why she'd want to be with me, Allison. She's brilliant, and witty, and beautiful, and I'm just this spazzy kid who pretends that he can hold his own against the supernatural. I don't-"
Before he can say anything else, Allison smacks him in the forehead.
"Enough, Stiles. I'm going to talk, and you're going to listen. Got it?"
Stiles nodded, knowing it was useless to argue with her.
"Yesterday, Lydia came over to hang out for a while. She was wearing your sweatshirt. Since I've known her, I've seen her in a sweatshirt once, and that was because she had the flu, and her sweaters were all in the wash. When I asked her about it, she blushed, and then spent half an hour telling me about what had happened between the two of you after we left the Preserve. I've never seen her smile like that either, and I will not let your self consciousness and self doubt take that away from her. Do you understand me?"
Nodding again, he took the hand she held out to him, and they walked down the bleachers, and back into school. Just before they reached the library, Allison stopped him.
"Look, Lydia's in there, and I want you to go in and talk to her. She was worried about you when you ran away this morning."
He stood still for a few seconds, gathering his courage, before taking a deep breath and pushing open the door. Looking around, he spots Lydia at the table under the window. As if she senses him, she looks up, their eyes meeting across the room. She smiles, gesturing for him to join her, and he makes his way across the room.
When he pulls out the seat across from her, she shakes her head, patting the one next to her.
"Come here, Stiles."
When he'd settle into the seat, she took his hands in hers.
"Are you okay?"
Stiles nodded quickly, and Lydia raised an eyebrow at him.
"Stiles. Talk to me. What's going on?"
Squeezing his hands, Lydia runs a finger across Stiles' wrist, feels the pulse jumping quickly beneath the warm skin.
"You know you can talk to me about whatever's going on with you, right? Did I do something wrong?"
"No!" Stiles' response comes out louder than he expects, and he repeats it in a quieter tone. "You didn't do anything wrong. It's just me, being me."
"What does that mean?"
One by one, Stiles runs a finger down each of Lydia's own, letting out the breath he'd been holding when he reaches 10.
"I thought I was dreaming. I thought that I was going to come to school, and I'd see you, and you'd just laugh if I tried to hug you or something."
Lydia smiles sadly up at him.
"How can I convince you it's real?"
Stiles shrugs, and Lydia slides her chair closer to him, dropping her hold on his hands to take his face in her own.
"Would it help if I told you that I slept in your sweatshirt? Or that I was seriously considering wearing it to school today? What about if I told you that I danced around my room to Britney Spears when I got home because it reminded me of you. Would that help?"
Leaning in, Lydia kisses him, smiling when his eyes flutter open after she pulls away.
"You're stuck with me, Stilinski."
Stiles smirks, his hands coming up to rest on her own, pulling them away from his face and pressing a kiss to each of her palms.
"Lucky me, Martin."
Leaning in to steal another kiss, Stiles feels her mouth curve into a smile beneath his.
"Lucky me."