Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8778067.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Lydia_Martin/Stiles_Stilinski, Scott_McCall/Stiles_Stilinski, Lydia
      Martin/Scott_McCall/Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Pre-Slash, Het, Polyamory, Pack_Dynamics, Hurt_Stiles, Alpha_Scott
      McCall, Stydia, Sciles, Threesome_-_F/M/M, Friends_to_Lovers, Epic
      Bromance, Hurt/Comfort, Memory_Loss, Mildly_Dubious_Consent, Past_Stiles
      Stilinski/Malia_Tate
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-12-07 Words: 15863
****** You Let Them Slip Away ******
by SilverSlashes
Summary
     Some Things You Can’t Go Back To, Cause You Let Them Slip Away
     Lydia hesitates, but then she turns to dig around in her bag, “well,
     actually, I fell asleep with my drawing pad and pencil in my hand
     because I was going to sketch before bed.”
     She pulls out a piece of paper that’s been folded and holds it out,
     “and when I woke up, I had drawn this in my sleep.”
     Scott sits up straighter as he gets a look at the boy sketched in
     detail on the page, “Stiles?”
     Lydia looks sharply at him while Malia looks confusingly between the
     two of them, “What’s a Stiles?”
Notes
     The title is based on a Little Big Town song that is gorgeous. So,
     give it a listen.
     I almost tried to post a screenshot of the file information for this
     story so you could see the date I started writing it, because I knew
     no one would believe that I had written a majority of it before the
     season started. This little gem began to percolate in my brain once I
     knew the season would revolve around Stiles disappearing.
     I didn't set out to have a particular pairing. I read all pairings
     and my writing has, up until now, been Sterek-centered. But, I am a
     hard Stydia shipper in the show and this season in particular I am
     fully onboard the Scott McCall train. That boy. I mean. Just.
     Everything. Anywho, so it didn't seem right to leave Scott out. AND
     lastly, well, I admit that I slipped some things in once the season
     started because Malia is just a GIFT and she and Stiles' friendship
     post-breakup is darling!
     The point is that I hope you enjoy this and that you believe me when
     I say the similarities in this story and the current season of Teen
     Wolf are just that, coincidences. I do not have a mole in the writers
     room. I wish.
     Also, I hope you don't mind the flash-forward at the end because I
     had A LOT in my mind for this story and no time or energy to write
     the 100k words I would need to get from Point A to Point B so I just
     gave you a little tidbit of where it was going in my head. I hope you
     like.
     I have notes at the end, but the underage is on here because they are
     all still in high school and the dub-con is VERY minimal.
See the end of the work for more notes
Scott knows it’s a dream because he can see the music, floating through the
crowd like colored light. He’s pretty sure he saw that happen in a Disney movie
once. He’s also pretty sure you can’t see music in real life. A string of
pulsing, purple quarter notes sail past his head and the thump, thump, thump of
the base is a feeling in his ribs more than a noise.
There are beautiful girls all around him, watching the concert. They sway with
the music and Scott smells their shampoo and bubble gum and perfume mix
together along with the heavy scent of sweat and alcohol that his werewolf nose
picks out at every bar he goes to.
Scott sees a guy his age across the dance floor. He looks familiar. He looks
determined. He begins walking towards Scott. A girl bumps into Scott and smiles
at him as she mouths an apology over the music. Normally, he’d take the time to
talk to her a minute, maybe dance, but he suddenly feels an imperative need to
meet this boy still striding towards him through the throng of people on the
dance floor.
Scott gently sets the girl aside and moves forward. They stop when they are
close enough to touch, he and the stranger from across the room. They are
closer than Scott would normally stand to a strange guy in a club, so that they
can speak over the music.
“Do you know me?” the guy says.
Scott’s eyebrows draw together as he pulls back to look the guy full in the
face. What a strange question. He lets his eyes roam over pale, creamy skin
with a few beauty marks here and there. Scott’s eyes dart to the steady brown
ones staring back at him. He tries to lean in discretely and sniff; maybe his
wolf can scent something from this stranger.
“Should I know you?” Scott asks back.
He gets a helpless look in return, part sad and part frustrated, “My name is
Stiles.”
Something that sounds and feels like a bell chimes in Scott’s head and he
shakes it a little, not sure what it means. He says the name in his head.
Stiles.
He says it out loud, “Stiles.”
That gets a small smile, “yeah, Scotty, I’m Stiles. Your Stiles. Do you
remember?”
Scott must look even more confused because Stiles’ eyes become desperate, “I
need you to remember.”
“I…” Scott gets distracted by a flash of green half notes as they zip by his
head. The guitar solo on this song is particularly fucking awesome.
Scott tilts his head, “you like this song.”
Stiles looks like he might cry, “I love this song, dude. We used to listen to
it over and over again in your bedroom while we were pretending to study.”
This boy knows Scott. Scott does not know this boy. But he feels like he
should. He feels like he wants to. He leans in again, desperate to scent
something that smells familiar.
Stiles reaches up and slowly grips Scott’s shoulder, “it’s ok; you can scent
me. I know what you’re doing. Go for it. Maybe it will help.”
Scott’s eyes widen, “you know what I am?”
Stiles smiles again and his grip tightens, “of course I do. We’re pack. You are
my alpha.”
Scott’s whole body is thrumming. He would know one of his betas. He would sense
another wolf. Stiles cannot be a member of his pack.
Stiles leans in a bit as the music crescendos, “I’m not a wolf. My pack-ness is
sorta honorary.”
Scott feels angry suddenly and he blurts out without thinking, “It’s not
honorary Stiles. You are a pack member. We talked about this.”
Stiles jerks back at the same time Scott does, both of them shocked at the
words.
“Why did I say that?” Scott looks at Stiles.
Stiles looks victorious, “because you remembered!”
Scott is weirded out, and the colors and the music are sort of blending. He’s
losing touch with the solid part of the dream. A new song is playing now. He
does not want to leave Stiles.
“Want to dance?”
Stiles makes a face, but then nods and they start moving to the music.
With the crush of bodies now clamoring against them they end up pressed
together, swaying to the music much like a couple. Scott reaches up and places
his hands on Stiles waist.
Stiles grins as their chests brush and the fabric of their t-shirts catch and
rub, “you don’t like boys Scotty, never have.”
Scott concentrates and makes a half-statement, half-question, “but you do.”
Stiles laughs, bright and loud, “in theory man, in theory.”
Scott nods, “this is a dream.”
Stiles sighs even as he keeps swaying in time to the beat, “indeed it is.”
Scott thinks again, “Well, I like dancing with you. I don’t care about anything
else right now.”
Stiles slows his pace, has eyes locking with Scott’s. He is thinking, Scott can
tell. He can read this guy, this Stiles, already. He sees it coming before it
happens. He does not move.
Stiles leans in and slants his mouth over Scott’s. The kiss is a little wild, a
little off. Their mouths move against one another. Scott isn’t sure, but he
knows that kissing Stiles is different, is right, in this moment, and he
doesn’t hesitate. Stiles kisses him back almost desperately. Scott has never
kissed a guy before, but the way that his lips and tongue press into Stiles
feels comforting and familiar, like an old engine turning over. Like a Jeep
engine.
Scott pulls back from the kiss suddenly, “you drive a Jeep!”
Stiles nods frantically, “I do!”
Scott smiles, “have we kissed like that before?”
Stiles shakes his head and a laugh startles out of him, “never.”
Scott frowns, “Then why did you…”
“Because I need you to remember, Scott. Remember me. Remember this dream.”
Scott nods. He cups the back of Stiles neck and pulls their foreheads together,
“I will. I promise, Stiles. I will.”
He feels Stiles finger tracing a path on his side. It feels like a circle
within a circle. Scott smiles even as he feels the edges of the dream blurring.
He’s waking up. The rainbow notes are falling now, like rain. Stiles is sinking
away from him. His Stiles. His best friend. Scott panics and reaches out
blindly, but Stiles is gone. He hears his voice still though.
“Remember me. Remember.”
“Scott… remember… school…” the voice changes and Scott jerks awake. His mother
is shaking him as his alarm blares from the bedside table. He must have slept
through it.
She repeats, “Scott, remember that you have to be at school early this morning
for a lacrosse team meeting.”
Scott sits up, “right, thanks Mom.”
Her voice softens as she walks towards the door, “well, you clearly slept well
if you slept so hard that you didn’t hear your alarm. Good dream?”
Scott walks to his bathroom to start getting ready, “Um, not sure yet.”
Melissa gives Scott a funny look, “well, ok, let me know.”
“Mom,” Scott stops her as she’s about to leave the room, “do we know a Stiles?”
Melissa raises one eyebrow, “what is a Stiles?”
Scott pauses with his toothbrush halfway to this mouth, “I think he’s a
person.”
“He?” She shakes her head, “no, I don’t know anyone named Stiles.”
Scott sighs and gets up to get ready, “right, of course, weird dream is all.”
She smiles slightly and turns to go, “well, I’m off to work and I’ll see you
later tonight.”
Scott already has a toothbrush in his mouth so he gives the thumbs up and walks
back into his bathroom.
A few minutes later he hears the back door shut and he walks to his desk. He
picks up a pen and a post-it note and on it he writes, Stiles.
He feels dumb, but he puts the note in his backpack anyway and finishes getting
ready.
 
Lydia likes this dream. She’s had it before. The shoe shop in Paris she favors
is only slightly different in her dreams. It’s empty, for starters. She is the
only customer today, free to try on as many pairs of heels as she likes. She
eyes a pair of genuine leather slingbacks in a rich purple. Yes. Those.
She walks towards the pair to inspect them and is startled when a salesperson
seems to appear beside her out of nowhere. He is dressed well, as she glances
at him with barely a notice.
“Would you like to try them on, madam?”
There is something off about his voice and Lydia turns to give him her full
attention. Her voice catches in her throat when their eyes meet. She knows him.
“Hello Lydia.”
“Stiles?”
He smiles sadly, “you always remember me first. But then you wake up and I
can’t seem to get you to remember me outside of the dreams yet.”
Lydia looks back at the purple pumps, which are now a muted blue color that
reminds her of something. A car? Strange. But, then, this is a dream.
“Am I choosing to be in my favorite shoe shop in Paris, or do you also like it
here?”
Stiles laughs, “did you know that I overheard you tell someone in the hallway
at school about this shop once? I ordered you a pair of heels from here. I had
them shipped. “
“How did you know my size?”
Stiles blushes, something he hasn’t done around her in some time, “I measured
the tiles in the hallway floor at school and then I watched you stand in them
and extrapolated the length of your foot.”
Lydia smiles because it sounds like such a Stiles thing to do. How is this boy
even real? How hard she worked for so long to pretend not to notice him. That
was stupid of her. One of the many things on the list of stupid things she used
to do, back before she was a banshee. Before she had real friends. Before she
had a pack.
She looks around while speaking to Stiles, “So you are controlling this dream?”
“I suppose, for lack of a better term, I am hijacking your dream with the
purpose of trying to get you to remember me.”
Lydia nods, “but I forget you when I wake up?”
Stiles sits on one of the tan leather divans, “you always forget. All of you.”
Lydia sits beside him and grabs his hand, squeezing tightly, “but why are we
forgetting? And where are you?”
Stiles runs his thumb over the back of her hand gently, “it’s not your fault.
He makes you forget. He has me… somewhere. I don’t know. I sleep a lot now. He
makes me tired.”
Lydia lays her head on Stiles’ shoulder, “so if you’re asleep and I’m asleep,
that’s how this is happening?”
Stiles nods, “yeah, I don’t think his powers can effect dreams. Or, maybe it’s
more accurate to say that the magic he uses to make you forget me only works
when you’re awake.”
Lydia bolts upright, “Stiles, I was drawing when I fell asleep.”
Stiles looks oddly at her, “you don’t draw.”
Lydia rolls her eyes, “well, I drew the Nematon that one time. And since I
discovered I sometimes draw important things when I’m doing my banshee thing,
I’ve started sketching in my free time.”
Stiles makes a wild hand gesture with his free hand, “what? To see if you,
like, accidentally banshee-draw something again?”
“Yes. But, what if I draw you now? In this dream? Maybe I’ll actually draw you
while I’m asleep.”
Stiles shrugs, “it’s worth a shot.”
“I’ll need a pen and paper or whatever.”
As she says it she looks beside her to find a notepad and a pencil. She picks
it up and turns towards Stiles who has dropped her hand. Their eyes meet as she
begins to sketch.
He smiles, “you know I’ve got a terrible problem sitting still?”
She makes a face, “well, you’re going to have to work through that if you want
me to remember you when I wake up.”
He nods resolutely and stares at a point over her shoulder. Lydia draws and
draws until Stiles starts to come alive on the paper in front of her. The
Stiles she draws looks more carefree than the one in front of her. His hair is
a little shorter. She spends the most time on his eyes.
Just as she starts in on the beauty mark by his cheek the world tilts sideways
and Lydia jolts with a yell as the pen, the paper, the shoe store, and Stiles
all start to slide down like fresh paint on a wetted canvas.
“Stiles!” she shouts into the void.
“Remember,” she thinks she hears him shout back.
Lydia awakes to the sound of a thud. Her sheets rumpled around her and her cell
phone beeping her alarm. Right. School today. Chemistry test. She pushes the
covers away and thinks about the strange dream she had… the shoe shop in Paris.
That’s always a good one. There had been a weird salesperson helping her with
those heels.
She stands up and wobbles as one foot connects with carpet and the other with
paper. She looks down to see her sketchpad on the floor. It must have fallen
out of the bed while she slept. She had been drawing before falling asleep.
She reaches down to pick it up and turns it over. She gasps. There is a boy
staring back at her. He is cute. His eyes are piercing her. He looks familiar.
Did she draw this? When? Surely she would remember seeing a boy like this and
drawing something this detailed. Did she draw in her sleep?
She closes the sketchpad and walks to her bathroom lost in thought. The visage
of the guy held secure in her mind’s eye. Who is he? She ponders, as she gets
ready for school. She grabs her Chem book from her desk and puts it in her bag.
Before she can think too much about it, she grabs the drawing pad and shoves it
in there too.
 
Malia is running.
She is a coyote. The moon is full. Her paws thunder across the ground as she
yips at the sky. She is free.
Suddenly, out of the underbrush to her right, a furry streak emerges – a red
fox, running towards her. It yips as well as it springs at her. They collide
and roll in the dirt and leaves of the forest floor. Malia playfully nips at
the fur she can reach and the fox’s hind legs thump, thump into her side as it
tries to gain traction in the roll.
When they finally come to a stop in a heap the fox leaps up and bounds around
her as Malia gets up more gracefully and shakes her fur out. She likes playing
with the fox. The fox is funny and sometimes clumsy and always curious. It
finally settles though as Malia stands still watching its antics. She watches
as the fluffy, white-tipped tail wraps around the front of the fox when it
sits.
The more Malia stares, the stiller the fox gets until she stares so long that
the outline of the fox blurs at the edges and grows until the fox is a man
kneeling on the ground. His eyes are brown and they do not hold any of the
playfulness of the fox from a moment ago.
She feels closer to the man than she does the fox somehow, even in coyote form.
He holds a hand out and she rubs her head against it. His fingers are fast and
gentle as they stroke her head and ears.
His scent is forest and car engine, with the sweet hint of medication and
desperation laced underneath. Most importantly he smells a bit like her, like
he used to belong to her. But she also smells a wolf on him, an alpha, her
alpha, Scott. Strange.
“Hi Malia. Do I still smell familiar tonight?”
She tilts her head at him, confused by his comment. He sighs and strokes a
finger down her muzzle, which feels nice.
“You always seem to recognize my smell above anything else. It helps when I
appear as a fellow animal first. You aren’t human in your dreams very often. I
suppose after a full day of pretending to be a regular girl it’s nice to return
to this, even if only in sleep.”
She lays down, a strange whining noise made in her throat, and he smiles
ruefully and continues, “But, yea, so, you always smell me first and Lydia
always remembers me first. I suppose her banshee powers keep her tapped into
the essence of a person. I think she can sense me moving closer to death.”
Death? Malia picks her head up and tries to study this fox-man for signs of
death. He doesn’t smell like death. He looks tired though. Very tired.
“Scott’s the biggest problem. I think the magic must be working very strongly
on him. It would have to be powerful magic to erase a pack member from the mind
of an alpha. He seems to see me the clearest when I either doubt my status in
the pack to him or I try to elicit a physical response.”
He glances at her again, “which is weird, you know. I’ve never had those sort
of feelings or urges for Scott.”
He looks doubtful for a minute, “is it ok that we’re even talking about this? I
mean, I know you’re you even when you’re, well,” he gestures vaguely to her,
“in this form.”
He shrugs when she doesn’t move or make a noise, only tilts her head the other
direction, “well, spoiler alert,” he grins, “Scotty-boy is a pretty good
kisser. I mean, as his friend, I never doubted his prowess for a second, but
still, it’s nice to know.”
Something shifts overhead, a shadow across the moon, and Malia feels her
humanness swimming to the front of her mind. She is waking up.
The man looks at her again and his voice floats to her from far away even
though she can still see him crouched in front of her, “the others will
remember soon, I hope. They’ll need you to help lead them. Follow my scent.
Remember my scent. Remember…”
Malia closes her eyes to try and concentrate on his fading words, but when she
opens them again there is bright sunshine streaming in through her window. She
glances at the clock and jumps at the time. Late again.
She goes through the morning routine that Lydia taught her. Teeth. Face. Hair.
Clothes. Books. Bag. She’s forgetting something… shoes! She takes the
highlighter she was using the night before to study and throws it in her bag.
She grabs the pen, but instead of tossing it in her bag she clicks it and
writes on her hand before she can think about what she’s doing.
Forest. Car engine. Medication. Scott.
She looks down at the words and tries to think about what they would all smell
like mixed together. What a strange dream that had been last night – a fox that
turned into a guy who smelled like pack. She glances at the clock again, says a
curse word that Braden taught her and bolts for the door.
 
Lydia jumps slightly when Scott slams his locker door a little too forcefully.
He notices immediately and apologizes, “I’m sorry, I know how much you hate
loud noises.”
She smiles without real humor, “it’s funny, right? I mean, considering I am a
loud noise.”
Scott puts his bag down and looks around the hallway, which is nearly empty
before he gives into the temptation to touch her. Lydia doesn’t accept
affection from him often, is more likely to when he makes it about himself.
She’s willing to let her alpha ground himself through touch with one of his
pack members, but it’s still hard for her sometimes to accept comfort from a
friend.
So Scott flashes his eyes briefly, the red bleeding in and out as he reaches a
hand out to touch the side of her neck. He feels her relax a little. She
reaches up and puts her hand on top of his and they both exhale.
Scott leans in and presses his nose to her hair, inhaling her scent. He feels
more settled. They are alone in the hallway now. He wouldn’t risk it otherwise.
Scott’s a tactile guy, but he’s careful about how much the pack touches one
another at school. Packs are very affectionate; healthy ones at least.
Ironically, Derek had taught him that. But, the high school rumor mill doesn’t
really account for werewolves in their gossip. Not that Scott would care at
this point if people thought he and Lydia were dating. Or he and Liam for that
matter. Whatever.
He steps back from Lydia and she gives him a real smile this time, “better?”
He nods, “you?”
She shrugs but he gets that she means yes.
Scott shoulders his bag as they make their way to lunch, “I’ve just felt
unsettled lately. Strange dreams.”
Lydia nods, “yeah, me too, actually.”
Scott stops, “any deaths?”
She shakes her head, “no, don’t worry. Just my favorite shoe shop in Paris.”
Scott laughs, “Do you dream about shoe shopping often?”
Lydia leads him into the cafeteria as they continue their talk. They make a
beeline for Malia at one of the tables, still chatting, “I have a reoccurring
dream about that particular shoe shop, yes, thank you very much.”
Scott holds his hand up, “ok, but, then, what was weird about it?”
Lydia hesitates, but then she turns to dig around in her bag, “well, actually,
I fell asleep with my drawing pad and pencil in my hand because I was going to
sketch before bed.”
She pulls out a piece of paper that’s been folded and holds it out, “and when I
woke up, I had drawn this in my sleep.”
Scott sits up straighter as he gets a look at the boy sketched in detail on the
page, “Stiles?”
Lydia looks sharply at him while Malia looks confusingly between the two of
them, “What’s a Stiles?”
Scott whips around to dig in his backpack for something. He pulls the sticky
note out and sticks it to Lydia’s drawing. Lydia reads Scott’s untidy
handwriting. Stiles.
Malia glances down at the drawing and her brows draw together, “he looks
familiar. Like the fox in my dream last night that smelled like Scott.”
Lydia and Scott turn to stare at Malia together as Lydia says, “what?”
Malia is looking at her pudding cup and not at them, like the conversation
they’re having isn’t suddenly extremely weird and somehow urgent to both Scott
and Lydia.
She looks up at them, “I have dreams a lot where I’m in my coyote form and I’m
running. Well, I think that the last few nights there’s been this fox that is
running with me. And then we stop and he turns into a boy, well, um, a guy.
That guy, I think,” she points at the drawing.
Malia shrugs, “but then, last night, I remembered what he smelled like, when I
woke up. I don’t always remember the details of the dream.”
She holds her hand out and Lydia takes a hold of it as Scott leans forward.
Scrawled in smeared pen are the words: forest, car engine, medication, Scott.
Lydia grabs a pen from her bag and ads those words to the sticky note that says
Stiles and is now attached to her sketch. Scott looks it all over.
“So we all have a dream about the same guy?” His head hurts. Or, it would, if
he could get headaches.
Malia has turned her attention back to her pudding but Lydia is looking down,
“his name is Stiles and he smells like you.”
Malia nods, “he smelled like pack.”
Scott swallows hard, “Stiles.” He feels something sort of pop in his brain,
like a little buzz that he can’t explain.
He says it out loud again, “Stiles.” Scott turns to Lydia, “what do you feel
when you look at the drawing now?”
Lydia looks down at the paper, her eyes moving around as if she’s searching for
something, “I feel like I should feel something and don’t. Like when you know
that you should love someone and can’t.”
Scott and Lydia look at each other, “look, either we’re either all having the
same crazy dream…”
“There is no way that this is some type of coincidence,” Lydia hisses.
Malia is looking at the drawing, a small frown on her face, “I feel crazy most
of the time,” she looks at Lydia, “and you did go to an insane asylum, like, a
few times.”
Lydia rolls her eyes, “how about we’re not crazy and something has made us
forget someone who used to be a big part of our lives?”
Scott startles, remembering something, “he said that I forgot him. He told me
to remember.”
Lydia mumbles, “Remember. Remember. Look, the dread doctors could make us
forget that we’d seen them right? So, what’s to stop some other supernatural
creature from making us forget we’d seen someone else?”
Scott has an uneasy feeling blooming in his chest, “this feels big. I feel
emptier the more we talk about it. Something is wrong. Like a member of the
pack is missing. Like how I felt when Allison…,” he trails off.
Lydia locks eyes with Scott and he doesn’t have to say it out loud. It feels
like a pack member dying.
Lydia stares more at the picture, almost trance like, and Scott can see her
struggling to recall more of her dream, “he said something to me. He said
something about the magic working harder against you because…”
Scott nods, finishing her thought, “… because it would take a lot of magic to
make an alpha forget a pack member.”
“But I don’t think that,” Malia looks down to read the name again, “Stiles, is
a wolf. The boy in my dreams didn’t smell like a wolf. But he could turn into a
fox in the dream at least.”
Lydia considers this before speaking to Scott, “he could be someone important
in your pack. Even human members can be tied to you through a pack bond. That
would be hard to sever magically.”
Scott stands up, “we need to go see Deaton. Now.”
Malia looks longingly at the rest of her food before moving to stand as well,
“the guy in my dreams smelled tired. Not dead. Just tired. Like he was losing a
fight maybe.”
“Now”, Scott repeats. They make for the parking lot and Lydia’s car.
 
Stiles can’t remember the last time he was warm. He tries to hold onto the
snippets of memory he has left. The good ones are all almost gone. He takes
them.
Stiles has come to learn something in the last week – memories are like little
pieces of your soul. And this thing, whatever it is called, takes memories.
Good ones. And Stiles is positive that little bits of his soul are going right
along with it.
And the worst part, as he lays here forgetting who he is one slow second at a
time, is that whatever magic this thing uses to take his memories, enables it
to erase the memory of him from his family and friends.
Stiles still remembers Scott, and his Dad, and Lydia, and Malia. He knows there
was once more to remember. Those moments have been stolen now, but he still
remembers the people. He still remembers what they mean to him. And he
remembers that he did something maybe to help them remember again. Didn’t he?
He’s so cold. He hears the door open and he can’t stop the shivering.
“You know Stiles, I’ve noticed something. You’re not a very happy person…” the
voice creeps closer until the creature is standing next to him.
Stiles is tied to a table. The room he is being kept in looks nice enough. He
doesn’t know where he is. He hasn’t left the table since he got here.
The man responsible for Stiles’ situation looks down at him now, “and yet, you
have very happy thoughts. It’s like you have these joyful warm moments that you
can’t properly appreciate. Fear has a way of dulling everything else around us,
don’t you think?”
Stiles has come to know the face of his captor very well. It is an extremely
handsome face, but it's not fooling Stiles. He’s seen what this thing hiding
behind a mask of humanity is capable of.
A hand comes up to brush the skin of his stomach, exposed where his shirts have
ridden up. The feather light touch makes him flinch on the inside, but he uses
every ounce of willpower he has left to remain stoic.
“You know, it’s probably why you haven’t really thought about your obsessive
love for Lydia lately. I mean, I can tell from your memories that she’s in your
life a lot more than she used to be. You share a very deep connection. Isn’t
that what you wished for, way back when?”
The thing takes a deep breath and makes a tutting noise, “it’s hard to carry
that old flame when you’re more worried about which of your friends is going to
die next.”
He nods in mock sympathy, “I understand. Of course, I’ve much more enjoyed your
more recent memories of Lydia. That kiss? Wow. And can I say that the vastness
of your feelings, how they’ve matured and tempered… it tasted like a fine
wine.”
Stiles feels the anger bubbling up but he stamps it down because it won’t help
him right now. He knows that this thing feeds off his happy memories. He likes
to rehash the ones that he has now that Stiles can’t remember. For Stiles it’s
like wanting to scratch an itch on a limb that’s been amputated. He feels a
sensation of recognition, but when he reaches he comes up empty.
He knows that there is a Lydia. He knows what she looks like. He knows he’s
known her for a long time. He knows he cares for her. Have they kissed? He
tries to think of any of the interactions they’ve shared and he can’t think of
a single one.
The thing smiles and it makes Stiles stomach twist. It speaks again, “Let’s see
what I can devour this time shall we? I especially enjoyed the one of you and
Scott in the woods that one time. You know the one? Or, you did.”
Stiles wants to scream and cry and struggle; but, he knows it will do no good.
He just has to hope that just maybe help is on the way.
Stiles gets very tired after it feeds on him. If he sleeps and he dreams, maybe
he can get another message through. Maybe they’ll remember this time. They have
to remember. Someone has to remember him. Or he’s going to forget everything.
 
All three of them burst into the back room of the veterinarian office. No one
uses the front door anymore.
“Someone is missing,” Scott blurts out as he comes to a halt where Deaton is
examining a Great Dane on the table.
Deaton looks up briefly and then back down at the dog’s paw, “who is missing,
exactly?”
Scott glances at Lydia, “Stiles?”
Deaton frowns, “what is a Stiles?”
Lydia breaks in, “look, we know that the dread doctors made us forget that we’d
seen them. Is there a supernatural creature that could make us forget other
things? Like people? That could take memories?”
Deaton looks at them with his full attention now. So they haltingly try to
explain the situation to him in full. The dreams. The pieces coming together at
lunch. Their hypothesis that it is either a creature using their dreams to
trick them into something or, more likely, they did have a friend named Stiles
who was taken and now he’s in trouble and they can’t remember him, much less
how to find him.
Deaton stays silent for a long time, until finally, “There is a way to
remember, maybe. You say you think the magic is weaker when you’re sleeping?”
Lydia nods, “Stiles seems to be visiting us in our dreams. I think. It doesn’t
feel like we’re dreaming memories of him we lost. It feels like he’s using
dreams to communicate.”
Malia makes a non-committal noise and Scott shrugs, “it was definitely a dream,
but it was somewhere I don’t think I’ve ever been, so I don’t think it’s a
memory of something Stiles and I did. I agree that it felt more like he was
visiting me in my dreams.”
Deaton looks sort of stunned and then maybe pleased.
“This Stiles must be your emissary.”
Scott sort of just stares at Deaton like he can’t comprehend what he’s saying.
So Lydia speaks up, “aren’t emissaries normally magical members of a pack? Like
a second, but not a wolf?”
Deaton moves his head back and forth as if to say sort of, “well, this Stiles
must be magical to some degree if he managed to be made into an emissary.”
Scott jerks like he’s been hit. How could he forget someone that important to
him?
Deaton is still talking to Lydia, “emissaries are counselors, advisors, and
protectors of the pack. The fact that an emissary is a non-wolf is important.
They help packs connect with their human side. They share a special bond with
the alpha. Emissaries can be human spouses of the alpha or human siblings of a
turned wolf or just someone who has been or has become integral to the pack.”
Deaton looks at Scott, “whoever is doing this has to have some powerful magic
working to make an alpha forget his emissary.”
Lydia holds up a hand, “let’s circle back around for a second. How do you know
this Stiles guy is our emissary?”
“Because no matter what creature of magic this is, if Stiles really is a person
that really was in your life and he really is reaching out to you through
dreams while in captivity… well, no complete human or beta wolf could do that.
He’s using a loophole in this creature’s magic to insert himself into your
minds. He could only do that, consciously or subconsciously, with a deep
connection to the pack.”
Scott is angry with himself and the situation. He needs to find this Stiles
now, “you said something about remembering? How do we find him?”
“I can put you under, into a sort of sleep.” Deaton looks at Scott directly,
“this time though you’ll have to help Stiles guide the dream. Ask him to share
as much as he knows about where he’s being kept.”
Scott nods, “do it.”
 
Scott is drifting in that weird place between waking and sleeping where he’s
sort of floating but he can still hear Deaton’s voice chanting lowly in the
background. He works to channel his thoughts towards Stiles. He repeats the
name to himself over and over again until it almost sounds like the beat of a
drum in his mind. Scott tries to picture Lydia’s drawing.
“Scott?” The voice sounds weak. Scott turns in circles, trying to follow the
hollow sound of his name.
“Stiles!”
Scott turns again and his eye catches on something out ahead of him in the
blackness, it’s a hazy recollection of what he thinks Stiles looked like
before. He doesn’t remember his dream very well, but the boy Lydia drew was
more vibrant than this.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Stiles smiles tiredly, “get it? Cuz I’m
all ghostly looking.”
Scott doesn’t smile, he’s looking around, “why aren’t we somewhere? Why are we
nowhere?”
Stiles shrugs, “question for the ages. But, I think you’re asking me why we
aren’t in the club setting like your last dream.”
Stiles looks down at himself, “the truth is that I’m almost too tired to even
appear to you, much less to weave your dreamscape into something.”
Scott closes the distance between them but he’s afraid to reach out, afraid
that Stiles is just smoke and mist, “We’re coming for you. Whoever you are.”
Stiles looks hopeful for a second, “maybe if you get here in time, you’ll
remember who I am again.”
Scott reaches out, placing his palm on the side of Stiles’ neck, which is solid
though cold, “can you tell me anything about where you are?”
Stiles shakes his head, “I’ve only ever seen the room I’m being held in, but I
get the sense that the house is big and nice, I think. The thing holding me
said something about liking posh zip codes.”
Scott wishes it were more, but he smiles at Stiles encouragingly, “that’s
great, and it helps. Malia thinks she can remember what you smell like.”
Scott can hear Deaton’s chanting again, his consciousness must be surfacing. He
watches as Stiles stutters in and out like a static TV. Stiles seems to notice
too.
“Dude, I’m like a hologram.” He holds out his hand, “help us Obi Wan Kenobi,
you’re our only hope.”
Something about it is so ridiculous and familiar that Scott feels the bell
chime in his head again before everything fades out to blackness.
Scott’s eyes fly open, their eerie glowing red light bleeding into the dim
light of the exam room, “I think I know what direction to head in.”
Scott sits up, “he’s being held in an actual house. He said he hasn’t seen
anything but the room he’s in but that the thing holding him let slip something
about being accustomed to nice zip codes.”
Lydia nods, “that would mean we start with the nicest neighborhood in Beacon
Hills, my neighborhood. There are a few houses for sell that would be vacant!”
Scott goes to head out the backdoor, “let’s hope that Malia remembers enough of
his scent to get us the rest of the way.”
Malia follows the two of them, “I’ll call Liam and Mason.”
Scott nods, “you sit in the front with the windows down and see if you smell
anything like what you remember from your dream.”
 
The house is nice. Lydia thinks it looks a lot like her house before her
parents divorced and her mother started quietly selling the nicer things. She’s
not sure if it’s staged for the market or this thing travels with the entire
Martha Stewart Living catalogue in the back of a U-Haul. It was the only one
they came across that was supposed to be vacant but had a “funny smell to it”
which was all the wolves would say.
It’s very quiet and still and dark. She’s not sure if that’s good or bad. They
make it into the house through an unlocked back door, definitely a bad sign.
The first level is empty. It isn’t till she and Scott get to the top of the
stairs that they hit what must be a small security force. At least three guys
rush down the hall at them. She hopes Malia, Liam, and Mason are ok; they split
up a few minutes ago.
She hears Scott growl, but she tells him to duck and cover his ears. It isn’t
hard to work up her screams when she’s angry or scared. Somewhere in this house
is one of her friends and he needs her help even if she can’t remember him
right now. She lets loose a wild yell that throws back the guy advancing on
her. He hits a wall with a crack and crumples to the floor. That was easy.
Maybe this creature has human lackeys.
The other two guys have clearly never seen a banshee before because they just
stare at her until Scott springs up and takes them down to the floor with a
growl before knocking them out. Scott’s head tilts slightly to the side for a
minute before he relaxes.
He turns back to Lydia, “the others met with some resistance as well but it
sounds like they’re handling it ok.”
She nods to the hallway, “let’s start trying doors.”
Scott shakes his head, “I think I can smell my way at this point. Whatever this
thing is, it smells like death and sex.”
Lydia makes a face, “I’m glad that my other senses are human, that sounds
awful.”
“It really is.”
They move soundlessly down the hallway, Lydia following behind Scott until he
gets to a door on the right and stops. Just as he reaches for the knob he hears
a slight disturbance to his left and turns to see Malia, Liam, and Mason spill
out of another hallway into the one he and Lydia are in. He motions with his
hand for them to stand behind them.
Once everyone is in place Scott turns the knob and moves cautiously into the
room as the others flank him. The room is just a Stiles described, nondescript,
bare but for a table in the center of the room that Stiles is tied to. Scott
recognizes him from Lydia’s drawing and from the weird sleep spell Deaton did
on him, that dream is much clearer than the others.
There is a man standing at the table by Stiles’ head, holding a dagger to his
throat. He looks like an average guy except maybe more attractive than most
people Scott thinks. Scott holds his hand back to bring the pack to a stop as
they fan out around the door. He lets his eyes flash red at the stranger.
The thing speaks and in it’s anger Scott catches flashing glimpses of what the
thing looks like under its human façade, “I’m not sure how the hell you found
me, but you’re going to leave unless you want your friend to die.”
It smiles nastily, “I mean, you don’t even remember that Stiles here is your
friend. So, what’s it to you anyway? You can leave and not feel any guilt. I’m
honestly not sure how you got through my memory block even just a little.”
Scott glances briefly at Stiles to make sure he is in fact still breathing
before focusing on the creature again, “you didn’t just take a member of a wolf
pack, which was mistake number one, but you took the emissary to a true alpha,”
Scott feels himself shift, “strike two.”
He can see that he’s startled the creature, who now doesn’t look so sure of
himself. Scott doesn’t turn around but he whispers, “Lydia.”
He hears her draw a breath and tries to prepare his eardrums. If he covers his
ears the creature will realize what’s happening. The scream rips through the
room, but Lydia must be getting better at honing in her aim because her sound
wave rolls over Stiles without disturbing him and knocks the creature square in
the chest. It goes flying backwards with the knife in hand.
Scott lunges as his wolves converge around him. He pounces on the creature,
pinning it to the ground and knocking the knife away from where it had
clattered on the floor when Lydia’s scream flung the thing backwards.
Scott thrusts his hand out and into the creature’s chest. He grips its heart
and jerks back, ripping it from its chest. There is a screeching noise that
dies off as the light leaves its eyes and it crumples to the floor. A sort of
mist rises up from the body and drifts over to where the prone body of Stiles
lays tied to a table. The mist settles into his body and he breathes in deeply
and stills again.
Scott cries out suddenly, falling to a knee and barely hearing his pack members
do the same around him. All his memories of Stiles are coming back, like his
life rearranging itself and sharpening into focus where it had been blurry
along the edges. He remembers. Scott feels tears prick his eyes. How could he
have forgotten?
He gets up and stumbles to the table to check on his friend. Lydia and the rest
of the pack follow, both Liam and Malia working on cutting the bindings. Scott
looks Stiles over, checking that he’s breathing and unharmed.
Stiles looks so pale, like the nogitsune had inhabited his body again. When he
opens his eyes and looks at Scott, Scott half expects to see the cold, black
malice of a thousand year old creature staring back at him, but it’s just the
familiar, warm honey-brown of Stiles. A bit glassy and unfocused, but Stiles.
“Scott?” His voice is hoarse and Scott doesn’t know if it’s from disuse or too
much use.
“I’m here Stiles. We’re all here. We’re gonna get you outta here.”
Stiles smiles a little, “ok.”
He looks like he’s struggling to maintain consciousness and in fact promptly
passes out again.
Scott looks at Lydia who has Stiles’ hand in a death grip, “Malia, go get the
car. We’re taking him straight to Deaton.”
 
The entire pack watches worriedly as Deaton checks Stiles over. He asks Scott
questions about the creature and about Stiles now that all their memories are
back.
“It sounds like an incubus of some kind. Maybe one that feeds off of memories
or souls?”
Lydia looked horrified, “it ate his soul?!”
Deaton shook his head, “no, it tried, but Scott killed it before it could
finish the job. So the parts of Stiles’ soul it did manage to take, as far as I
can tell, have been returned unharmed back to his body.”
“Physically, he’s fine. He could be experiencing the shock of having his soul
slowly sucked from his body and then suddenly pushed back in.” Deaton said it
very matter-of-factly.
Mason looks at Deaton like he’s crazy, “yeah, I guess that would be shocking…”
he trails off like he already knows his sarcasm will be lost on Deaton.
Scott looks down at Stiles’ shivering body, “what do I do to snap him out of
it?”
“You need to ground him in the pack. Keep him warm. Keep him close. Stiles is
human but he can use the spark, and he’s your emissary. That means he can only
just tangibly feel the link that he has to you as his alpha and the pack. Like
Lydia, it’s probably something he senses only subconsciously and only in times
of acute stress. Which was how he merged with each of you in the dreams.”
Deaton looks at Liam and Malia, “unlike your betas which feel their tie to the
pack like an actual tether.”
Lydia has a death grip on Stiles’ other hand, “so Scott just has to use the
tether to help reverse the effects of the shock?”
“If he concentrates he should be able to find the tie and strike at it, like
plucking a guitar string to make a sound.”
“That will bring Stiles back to us?” Lydia already looks determined.
Deaton nods grimly, “Yes.”
Scott looks down at Stiles, “and you’re sure he’s my emissary?”
Deaton nods, “it wouldn’t have had to be a formal ceremony or any sort of
traditional wording. You could have done it without knowing.”
Scott remembers vividly then;trying to apologize, trying to make it up to
Stiles, what he had said and how he had doubted him. He had insisted that he
couldn’t repair the pack, couldn’t be an alpha, and couldn’t do anything, until
he had Stiles’ forgiveness; until he had his support.
He had even made Stiles draw the circle within the circle Scott drew. He
remembers that Stiles had taken the opportunity to make another disparaging
comment about Scott’s tattoo being stupid. But, he had drawn the circle, his
lithe finger tracing with assuredness in the dirt. Had that been it? Had Scott
bonded Stiles to him as the pack emissary?
He tries to explain to Deaton what they did. He nods again, “that certainly
could have been the moment.”
Scott takes a minute to think and then seems to come to a decision, “can we
take him somewhere? Do we have to do this here? Now?”
Deaton shakes his head, “I don’t think Stiles is in any imminent danger. And I
actually think this would work better if he was somewhere familiar.”
Scott looks at Lydia, “you’ll help me get him home?”
Lydia nods, “of course.”
Scott turns to Liam, Malia, and Mason, “you three can go home, get some rest.
Thank you for your help. I’ll check in with each of you tomorrow.”
Liam and Mason move to leave, but Malia hesitates in the doorway. She comes
back to stand by Stiles’ head, sweeping his hair back from his face gently.
Scott’s never seen her do something so human before, “you’re going to be
alright Stiles,” she whispers.
Scott looks at her, “you can come with us.”
She grimaces at him before turning the same half-smile on Lydia, “I think he’s
going to be ok. I know you’ll both make sure of it.”
With that she leaves. Scott looks at Lydia who does an elegant version of a
shrug. He hands her the car keys and moves to pick Stiles’ up so they can get
him to his house as soon as possible.
 
The car ride is torture with Stiles out cold in the back. Lydia and Scott rely
on him a lot to fill the silences.
“I remembered everything the moment you killed that thing,” Lydia speaks into
the silence.
“Me too.” Scott glances at her. She looks pale and shaken, but the same
unflappable Lydia is shining through in places.
She hiccups a little laugh that’s almost a sob, but she reels it in, “how could
we have ever thought it was just the two of us after… after Allison? I mean,
he’s so important to…” she waves a hand as if to draw what she’s trying to say.
“To us.” Scott finishes. “To the pack.”
Lydia looks out the window, “It’s like I see it differently a little now that
I’ve got it all back. Like a TV show you watched a long time ago and then you
marathon it all again at once and it’s almost too much.”
She reaches over and takes Scott’s hand, folding it between both of her own and
holding it in her lap. It's something Allison used to do and it makes Scott’s
breath catch. All his nerves are raw, his thoughts and feelings so sensitive
and right on the surface. He squeezes Lydia’s hand and glances back in the
rearview mirror to make sure Stiles is still ok.
 
Scott lays Stiles on the bed, removing first Stiles shoes then his own. He
directs Lydia to a hall closet where blankets can be found. Scott sits on
Stiles bed, his back up against the headboard. He pulls Stiles’ body close to
him until his best friend’s back is pressed to his chest and Scott’s legs are
bracketing Stiles. Scott hopes that his unnatural werewolf body heat will help
Stiles to warm up.
Lydia returns, kicking her shoes off and piling the blankets over both of the
boys on the bed. Then, she shimmies under the blankets herself, draping her
body over part of Stiles so that he is encased in warmth. Scott thinks about
what Stiles would have given just a few years ago to have Lydia Martin draped
across him in bed. He almost lets a hysterical laugh out but reins it in.
Lydia has her head on Stiles chest as it rises and falls and Scott puts one arm
across her back and the other he brings around so that his hand is resting
lightly across Stiles’ throat. He feels his alpha rumble and he works to bring
to the surface instincts he normally shoves ruthlessly down.
Stiles needs him to be his alpha, but Scott is also his friend and his brother.
He just needs to find the thread that links them together. He hopes he doesn’t
imagine the shivers in Stiles body already calming slightly.
Lydia whispers into the silence, “You can do this Scott. I’m right here. It’s
just like the nogitsune. You have to signal to Stiles as an alpha would to a
member of his pack. Let him know you’re here. Let him know we’re waiting on him
to come back.”
Scott breathes in deep, even breaths and his chest pushes at Stiles back.
Stiles did this for him once in middle school when Scott had his first ever
asthma attack in the middle of the woods. Stiles had dropped down behind Scott
so their chests were lined up and he had whispered into Scott’s ear as he
breathed deep and evenly. Just listen to the sound of my voice. Just take deep
breaths. Match my breathing Scotty. In and out. In and out. You’re ok. You’re
going to be fine. Feel my breathing Scott. Breathe with me. In and out.
Scott reaches towards the sound of Stiles’ voice in his head, speaking his own
mantra as he goes. Just listen to the sound of my voice Stiles. You’re going to
be ok. Just breathe for me. Reach for me. Scott thinks about how much he loves
Stiles. How devastated he’d be if something happened to him. When the nogitsune
came and Stiles thought he was sick, Scott had been ready to give him the bite
to make it better, to keep Stiles with him.
He thinks of Stiles’ value to the pack. His intelligence. His ruthlessness. His
loyalty. Now that Scott’s thought about it, it makes perfect sense that Stiles
would be his emissary. Scott defers to him for guidance. Their friendship has
always built upon their strengths and, according to Deaton, that’s what an
emissary and alpha are meant to be, a team. Scott might have all the strength
and brawn and heart, but Stiles protects Scott, he always has. He sees the
things that Scott can’t and sometimes doesn’t want to.
You have to come back to me, man. I need you. Deaton says you’re perfectly
fine. You just got a little shock to the system. Lydia’s here. She says you’re
not dying.
Scott keeps pushing forward with all his concentration on Stiles. How he feels
about him, memories of their relationship, and things he wants to say. Scott
sucks in a breath as he feels a warm sort of glowing feeling start to build
where his chest is pressed to Stiles’ back.
Lydia gasps, “He’s getting warmer. His breathing is getting better.”
Scott feels the warmth pull taught like a string and he tries to direct his
thoughts along it. He can feel Stiles now. Scott can sense his mind struggling
to surface against his body’s fatigue. It isn’t until Scott explores their
connection more that he begins to understand just what that creature did.
Stiles’ essence, his soul, feels raw to Scott. Stiles has literally had pieces
of his mind and soul taken and put back. No wonder he was in such shock.
He took my memories, Scott. All the good ones just drained away little by
little until I could barely remember who I was and what you all meant to me.
Stiles?
I’m here. Or, at least, I’m working my way back I think. It all sort of rushed
back in at the same time. A lot of good; but, a lot. You know?
You’re going to be okay. Lydia and I are working on warming you up. The shock
should wear off soon. Deaton says you’re perfectly fine otherwise.
I can’t wait to feel perfectly fine.
I’ve got a lot to tell you soon.
Do you? Does it have something to do with this nifty mind-meld?
Possibly.
Will we be able to do this from now on?
Don’t know.
That would be cool. It’s like the ultimate dream of our friendship. Mind
reading.
Yeah, I guess it’s the only thing we haven’t achieved. Hey, maybe now I should
finally watch Star Wars like you’ve always wanted.
Mind-melds are Star Trek.
There’s more than one star thingy?
Let’s not talk about this right now.
Ok. Oh, and, Stiles?
Yep.
When you wake-up, Lydia is going to be draped across you. Just, um, heads up.
She makes an excellent pack member.
She does.
We’re the originals you know? Even before Lydia was a banshee. We were a four-
person wolf pack without even realizing it.
I know.
It’s gonna be okay Scott. I’m gonna be ok. We’re gonna be okay.
I know.
But thanks for the heads up.
You still like her?
Are you trying to distract me from my state of shock?
Maybe.
I think it is safe to say that I still love Lydia. But, I think it is also safe
to say that what I used to feel for her was both massively immature and largely
superficial to what I feel now.
I know what you mean. We’ve all grown a lot.
We’ve all had to.
This mind thing is somehow more intimate and also more removed.
It’s a lot like when I stick my claws in your neck, except I didn’t have to.
I think I’m ready to wake up now.
Okay. I’m gonna try to, um, go, I guess, and you just come back when you’re
ready.
Scott tries to slowly come back to himself, which is honestly like peeling
velcro apart. The sensation isn’t painful, but it’s also not pleasant.
When he opens his eyes to see Stiles stirring in his arms on the bed, he
breathes a sigh of relief. He did it. It’s going to be fine. Lydia is looking
at him with a bright shimmer in her eyes that means she is definitely not going
to cry but only through sheer force of will.
Stiles flutters his eyes open and he looks at Lydia, his hand coming up to
tangle in her hair where it’s spilled around her head on his chest. His voice
is a whisper, “you remembered me. You both did. I almost gave up.”
Lydia smiles, “life didn’t feel quite right without you in it.”
Scott squeezes briefly where his arms are still wrapped around Stiles, “I’m
sorry it took us so long.”
“Doesn’t matter, you came for me. I told him you would.” Stiles closes his eyes
briefly again and exhales, “I need a shower. I feel disgusting. It put its
hands all over me practically and…”
Scott doesn’t even know he’s growling until Stiles trails off and Lydia sits up
startled. Stiles doesn’t move though, he just laughs a little, “it’s ok Scotty;
it didn’t have its way with me, just with my soul. I think it had to touch me
to feed and I just feel gross.”
Scott tries to settle himself and think like a friend and not an alpha. Though
to be honest, even as a friend he’s feeling an unexpectedly intense wave of
possessiveness. He relaxes his hold and lets Stiles tentatively stand with
Lydia’s help.
She turns to look at the short trip to the bathroom across the hall from Stiles
bed, “do you need help with anything? Do you want us to go?”
“I need some time, but I honestly don’t want to be alone right now,” Stiles
eyes dart around the room.
Lydia nods, “how about I stay here while you get a shower and change out of
these clothes and Scott can run home and get some stuff and then he can stay
with you as long as you need?”
Stiles nods, “that works.”
Scott looks to Lydia, “do you want me to pick up anything for you so you can
stay?”
She startles a little and then gives a small smile, “that would be great, thank
you.”
Stiles gives Scott a grateful look, “can we do that pack thing later that I
told you was a good idea and you didn’t believe me till we tried it?”
Scott rolls his eyes, “just say cuddle, Stiles, it’s cuddling. There is no way
around it. Yes, we can cuddle.”
Scott hesitates a second and Stiles looks expectantly at him, “it would
actually help my wolf a lot to keep you two close right now. You’re the, uh,
senior members of the pack. Original members? I don’t know what to call it, but
after what’s happened it would help me to be near you for a bit to help me
settle.”
Stiles smiles tiredly, “see? Look at you using your words and shit.”
Scott makes a little face at him but Stiles can see the pleased look
underneath. He leaves and Stiles turns towards the bathroom because he needs to
feel clean right now. He tells Lydia to make herself at home as he goes.
 
Stiles stares into the mirror at his face until the edges blur a little. He
spends time taking in the happy memories, fresh in his mind and happier somehow
for the recent loss and recapture of them. The first time Lydia kissed him. The
first time he realized they were really, actually, solidly friends.
The first time he realized people that weren’t Scott or his Dad liked him and
depended on him. Spending nights drunk in the woods with Scott looking up at
the stars. Telling his Dad he wanted to go into law enforcement and the proud
look his Dad gave him. Realizing Malia was with him because she really wanted
to be.
He thinks about the new memories he gets to add to the pile. While technically
not under the best circumstances he had gotten to swim around in his friends’
dreams. He had shared intimate thoughts with them. It was thrilling and
humbling.
When he stumbles out of the bathroom and back into his bedroom he realizes that
Lydia has made the bed with clean sheets and blankets and he could kiss her.
He’s not sure where she went though.
“You kissed me.” Scott’s voice from the doorway makes Stiles jump a foot and
turn around so fast he almost loses his balance.
“Sorry. Sorry.” Scott apologizes as he moves into the room.
“It’s fine,” Stiles says. And then, “I needed to get your attention.”
“We’ve never kissed before.”
“That’s why it worked.”
Scott is quiet for another moment and Stiles knows it’s his way of processing,
“all those times you talked about finding me attractive or making out, where
you serious?”
Stiles looks away.
Scott looks devastated, “I just laughed it off. I laughed at you.”
That fact that Scott’s the one who looks horrified makes Stiles want to laugh
and cry at the same time. How does he deserve Scott’s friendship?
“You laughed with me dude. You didn’t think I was serious. And I guess I wasn’t
really. But, if you hadn’t laughed. I would have probably tried.”
Scott still looks upset, and Stiles tries not to roll his eyes, “dude, it’s not
like I came out to you and you were mean or unsupportive. I mean, I think I’ve
stumbled my way through the ‘I’m theoretically bisexual’ talk like two times
with you and you were basically like ‘cool, we’re still bros.”
Stiles looks at the floor, “the better question is why aren’t you mad at me?
I’m pretty sure that the not so straight bro is not supposed to kiss the
straight bro without his permission. That’s like the number one rule of respect
and boundaries in a bromance.”
Scott laughs, “did you just make up the word bromance?”
Stiles shrugs, “I got it off the internet.”
Scott shakes his head, “I’m not mad at you because it worked. And it was a
great kiss.”
Stiles looks up at that, “I thought so too.” He nods, to himself almost, “so
you’re not freaking out?”
“There’s nothing to freak out about. I mean, I’m pretty sure that your 10 year
plan to make Lydia fall in love with you just moved up like 7 years. And we’ve
been best friends since forever. And we have gay friends. I think that it’s
weird that we haven’t made out before now.”
Stiles laughs, “well, when you put it that way.”
Scott walks forward until he’s standing right in front of Stiles, “And I know
for a fact that I loved Allison, and Kira, and that I love you, even if in a
different way... so…”
Stiles looks up at the ceiling and then at Scott, “so… I love you too.”
“So, you see,” Scott moves even closer, “nothing to worry about,” he leans into
Stiles personal space, though honestly, what is personal space when it comes to
their friendship?
Stiles feels like he should still apologize on principle, “I’m sorry I dream
kissed you without your permission.”
Scott’s reply is a whisper against Stiles’ mouth, who doesn’t pull away, “I’m
sorry I laughed at the idea of us making out for fun.”
Their lips barely touch before pulling apart again and Stiles speaks, “when are
you going to figure out that I always have good ideas?”
Scott smiles before leaning into the kiss fully, pressing Stiles up against his
desk, letting the heat of their bodies mingle as their lips slide together.
Scott whispers as they pull away, “that was way better than the dream.”
Stiles smiles, “it often is, Scotty. It often is.”
“It was a dream for me,” Lydia says from the doorway. Both boys spring apart.
She just shrugs as she comes into the room in her pajamas. Scott must have
given her the things he brought her and she has been changing in another room.
Stiles almost forgot she was there.
She tosses her hair over one shoulder as she sets her bag down on Stiles’ desk,
“don’t stop on my account. I mean, I’m not shocked in the least. Plus, I’ve
kissed both of you so it’s not like I’m judging taste.”
Stiles laughs as he recovers his shock at her entrance, while Scott just stands
there like he’s taking longer to process all her words.
Lydia turns towards them again, leaning against the desk, “I mean, I’m more
shocked that you seem to have never made out before right now.”
Stiles laughs again, “right? That’s what Scott said.”
Scott looks down at the floor and mutters something about brushing his teeth
before practically fleeing the room. Lydia watches him go, still amused, but
then turns questioningly to Stiles, “I don’t remember him having a bag for
himself when he got back.”
Stiles moves to pull the newly made bed covers down, “he showered at his place
and just grabbed some clothes. And Scott’s had his own toothbrush here since
forever. He doesn’t need much else.”
Lydia rolls her eyes, “how wonderful it must be as a guy to being able to
travel like that instead of with your entire bathroom crammed into one bag so
that you can still do your entire skin and hair care routine.”
Stiles lays down on the bed, “hey, I moisturize. I have skin care and hair
things.”
Lydia lays down as well, leaving room for Scott in the middle, “it’s really not
the same thing.”
Stiles gives a mock huff, “fine.”
She smiles and reaches across the bed to grab his hand and squeeze it, “I
missed you. I didn’t know I did, but once I got my memory back, I realized that
I did. I just didn’t know it, you know?”
“Yeah, I do. That thing took my memories as he was feeding on me and then when
Scott killed it I guess I got them all back at once. Like the time Scott and I
fell asleep at the pool one summer and got really sunburned. Melissa had to
practically bathe us in aloe.”
He looks down at their hands, “and I remembered the time you kissed me out of a
panic attack. Which was so fucking smart and if I hadn’t already loved you
before then…”
Stiles hears her exhale and looks back up to see Lydia’s eyes shimmering a
little, “you love me?”
“Of course I do. Now more than ever. Being your friend. Fighting with you and
for you, it’s only made me realize how much more I could care for you. How
amazing you are.”
Lydia leans in and presses her lips softly to Stiles’ own. Just a chaste kiss,
even more so than the one he shared with Scott, but a promise of more.
“I’m sorry that it took me so long to see you,” she says, “because you’re worth
seeing. You’re worth remembering. I love you. I love this pack. There is
nothing I wouldn’t do for any of you. I didn’t realize I could care about
something so much more than I care about myself. But you did.”
Stiles just smiles at her. The smile he gives her sometimes that he thinks she
doesn’t notice. It’s the one that makes her want to give her heart to him even
though she doesn’t know how to do that very well. She’s going to try for him.
Scott makes some sort of noise at the door before coming into the room, like he
has to announce himself. Lydia lets go of Stiles’ hand so Scott can crawl up
the middle of the bed and settle down in the clean covers. He inhales deeply
and wiggles back and forth before relaxing.
Stiles huffs when Scott just lays there, “do you remember what we talked about
when Malia started stripping down in front of us all to run in her coyote
form?”
Scott rolls his eyes, “that it’s not weird if it’s pack.”
Lydia rolls onto her side to face them, “what do you need?”
“Well, first I need you both to admit that you’re dating.”
Stiles flails a little, “we’re working on it.”
“You go to her place in the middle of the night all the time now.”
Lydia cuts a look at Stiles, “to look for dead bodies like I’m some sort of
deathly homing pigeon.”
Stiles smiles, “that’s how I show affection, ask Scott. We used to go looking
for dead bodies all the time.”
Lydia looks at her nails, “that is not helping your case.”
Stiles looks at Scott, “again I say, we’re working on it.”
Scott looks at the ceiling, his thoughts clearly switching gears, “she’d be so
proud of us and so happy for you guys. We’re graduating and we’re finally
starting to get this whole pack thing down.”
Lydia scoots closer to Scott, wrapping herself around his side as he brings an
arm under her to pull her in closer, “she’s still with us, you know? She’ll
always be with us when it matters.”
Stiles nods and settles in too, punching the pillow a few times before turning
into Scott to match Lydia’s position so that Scott has them booth enfolded into
his side.
Stiles laughs a little when Scott’s nose brushes his hair as he sniffs him and
then Lydia in turn. Scott sighs before relaxing into the bed, “this is what I
needed.”
Both Lydia and Stiles speak simultaneously, “we know.”
 
It’s subtle after that, the way the pack reacts to forgetting Stiles. Like they
did it on purpose and feel guilty even though they were literally magicked into
it. He and Lydia start spending even more time together and when he tells her
he’s going to call it dating, she smiles and in a very Lydia way doesn’t say
anything.
Scott crawls into his window once or twice a week and ends up curled around
Stiles in some arrangement or other as they fall asleep. Stiles isn’t sure if
this new normal is to reassure him or Scott that he’s safe.
His Dad, and most of the other people not directly involved in rescuing him,
seem to have forgotten that they forgot him. Which Stiles thinks is odd. Stiles
really hates magic sometimes. It defies logic.
At least 3 times a day a pack member hugs Stiles, claps him on his shoulder, or
does this weird rubbing against him thing that he’s pretty sure is scent
marking. Malia seems to be walking some line in her head that she’s struggling
with in which she wants to be close to Stiles in reassurance like the rest of
the pack, but also seems to be trying to respect Stiles and Lydia’s new
whatever they are and her friendship with Lydia. Stiles tries to stutter
through some speech to her that it’s ok and that pack and friendship are more
important than things like past relationships. She said Lydia said the same
thing and he exhales a sigh of relief internally.
Every once and awhile Lydia sleeps over at Stiles and Scott shows up for one of
his nights and they end up wrapped around one another. They talk about the pack
and the future. They talk about Allison and the past. They talk about when and
if Kira will come back. They talk about college and Stiles doesn’t freak out.
He feels really good about his life for the first time in a long time.
A month or so after the incubus incident Stiles and Lydia are supposed to be
studying when Lydia decides it’s time. She puts her physics book down on Stiles
desk and walks over to where he’s lounging across his bed trying to catch-up on
a few acts of King Lear before the well-known “pop” quiz on Friday that Mr.
Katz likes to give on the reading. Lydia pushes him down before straddling his
waist and leaning down to kiss him, pressing her lips into his firmly before
sitting back.
Stiles smiles when she pulls back and smirks a little, “um, ok.”
Lydia has one of those looks she gets when she is determined, “the kid gloves
are coming off right now Stiles. I know that this is new and scary and maybe a
long time coming…”
Stiles grins, “longer for me…”
He breaks off when she shoves a finger in his face, “not the point. The point
is you told me once to stop playing the popular girl and be the smart girl you
knew I was. You also told me once to shut up and let you save me. I need you to
be that Stiles, here with me right now.”
The grins drops off his face and he sits up a little, “alright, ok. I just want
to make sure that this is what you want. I want it to be, um, good. Maybe
perfect?”
Lydia smiles one of her real smiles, Stiles knows them all, before cupping his
cheek with one hand, “it’s not going to be perfect. It’s just going to be us.”
Stiles nods and reaches up to run his hands through her hair, trailing down to
her neck to bring her back to him and when their mouths meet this time it’s
less a press and more a movement. They kiss more desperately than they ever
have before. Like she’s trying to commit him to memory, something neither of
them will take for granted ever again.
They manage to toss shirts to the floor, her lavender bra knocked askew and
then finally just removed by her while Stiles stares at her, perched on his
lap. And technically, she has all the power; but, the way he looks at her makes
her feel powerless. He’s not frozen with nerves or inexperience. It’s almost
like he’s just trying to remind himself that he has permission to touch. He’s
looking at her like she’s someone worthy of reverence.
Stiles moves his hands finally, molding them to Lydia’s body. He skims up her
hips and ribs, brushes his thumbs over her nipples which makes her jerk a
little. She runs her fingers through his hair, gripping it gently to pull him
to her as he explores her chest with his mouth. Lydia moans and rocks slightly
which makes Stiles moan in turn.
He moves with purpose then, up and over her till she’s under him and lifting up
so he can slip her skirt and panties off. She arches for him, showing off a
little. It’s been a while, but she’s always felt in command of herself during
sex. She knows this dance even if the partner is new. She very much wants to
learn how to dance with Stiles.
She points at him, “pants.”
He gets the point and shimmies out of them before crawling back onto the bed
and up till their bodies are aligned. There is nothing between them now and she
explores with her hands while they kiss again. He nips at her lip and oh that
is the first time someone has done that to her. That’s her signature move. It
feels good in the reverse.
Stiles is honestly shocked that this is going so well. He’s into it. I mean,
God, it’s Lydia, of course he’s into it. But, he’s not, like, over-thinking it.
Which is great. He never thought to dream that Lydia would be his first or
would be his ever, and now he’s glad she wasn’t first because he feels a lot
more confident than he had ever imagined he’d be in bed with Lydia Martin.
Stiles starts to kiss down her body and he mumbles something about the bedside
drawer as he goes. She gets the hint and twists to open it, reaching a hand in
and pulling out a condom. She hands it to him and he puts it on the bed beside
him with a, “in a minute”. She laughs at that and at his tongue in her belly-
button.
He pauses for a minute to take that in, “you’re ticklish?”
She sniffs a little trying to rein in her giggles, “even perfect people can be
ticklish.”
He smiles delightedly, like he’s uncovered some secret, “I guess so.”
She holds her breath a little as he continues his task, trailing lower until
he’s resting between her legs. His arms come up under her legs and he cradles
her to him. When did Stiles get so strong? The first tentative swipe of his
tongue along her fold has her sucking in a breath. She feels his hand move and
then she feels him part her with his fingers, spreading her wetness around and
pressing a thumb into her clit to gauge her reaction.
She squirms and moans, arching her head back a little. He gets to work after
that and she loses time a little as her breathing increases and he alternates
between using his tongue and his fingers to open her up. She looks down at some
point to see him looking up at her, those honey brown eyes tracking every
reaction to learn how to make her feel good. She needs more of him. She needs
it now.
She pulls at his hair, “Stiles, up. Now.”
He gets it immediately, pulling off and moving up to grab the condom, but she
takes it from him and moves, “on your back.”
He falls over on his back and she climbs back onto him as he looks amusedly up
at her, “whatever you want.”
She opens the condom and gets her hand around him, her fingers moving up and
down, her thumb swiping over the head of his cock, which is leaking. His breath
stutters out and his hips move up.
She takes mercy on him and rolls the condom down until it’s snug at the base,
which she squeezes a bit before moving forward. She reaches down to guide him
into her and watches in wonder as his neck arches and he grips her hips to try
and stay still for her while she lowers herself onto him.
When they are finally interlocked his hands make the trip upward again from her
hips to her ribs to her breasts. He looks wrecked and she feels the power surge
up in her again. She’s always seen her body as a weapon to wield, now more
literally than ever, but for the first time since maybe the first time she
feels like she’s giving a gift. Stiles looks at her like she’s a gift.
She places her hands on his chest over his heart to steady herself and she
rolls her hips, feels him shift inside her. He thrust his hips up and she rides
them back down to the bed. The next time they move together she leans forward
even more, searching for a better angle. The third time, she feels it as the
sensation moves up into her belly and spine and she moans. She starts moving
faster to chase it and Stiles grips her hips and starts thrusting up as best he
can to help her.
The rhythm builds as they move together. She likes the way Stiles looks under
her, his eyes moving over her body as she watches his quick mind take in her
reactions and alter his movements to match her desire. She messes up their
movements when she leans over to kiss him, but she wants to. His tongue moves
into her mouth when she opens her lips against his and she feels his arms come
around her briefly to hold her body to his as their hips still for a minute.
She feels as safe now, cradled against his body, as she has in times when he’s
used his body to shield her from threats, from herself even. Stiles protects
her. Always.
She lifts up again, her body calling for release. Their movements become more
frantic after that. For someone who is almost never still or quiet, Stiles is
both more graceful and more silent in bed then she thought he would be. His
quiet moans mix in the air with her more breathy ones and she comes first as
her thighs lock around his hips and she feels her orgasm rip up her spine.
He pushes her through it with his thumb pressed into her clit before gripping
both of her hips to grind her down onto him as he thrusts up to chase his
pleasure. He says her name rather quietly when he comes. She lies there flushed
and still trying to breathe correctly while he gets rid of the condom.
By the time they curl up together under that covers she feels like they’ve
reached past speech. There’s nothing to say after the experience they just had,
even Stiles doesn’t have words. The only thing talking is the air not between
them and the twin heartbeats pounding out a beat in harmony.
They lay together under the covers, tangled up with Stiles on his back and her
sprawled across his chest so she can hear his heart thump slower now that
they’ve calmed down. It’s contentment like she hasn’t felt in years. They’re
teetering on the edge of sleep when something large drops through Stiles open
window and stands up before jumping, yelling, and spinning around in the other
direction to face the wall.
Stiles flails a little, harder to do with her on his chest, but she lifts her
body up at the commotion, “Scott?”
Scott is looking resolutely at the wall, “Fuck! I am so sorry guys. I’m just
gonna go.”
Lydia laughs, “exactly how often does Scott come here in the middle of the
night?”
Stiles looks over at her with the sheet pooling around both their waists. She’s
not ashamed of her nudity. They’ve both seen Malia nude.
Stiles looks at Scott’s back, “I mean, how often is too often?”
Scott talks without turning his back, “you sneak into my window too, bro.”
“The point is that, yes, this does happen regularly. But only recently has it
led to cuddling of the pack variety.”
Scott looks at the window and moves to climb out, “but I’m sorry I interrupted
and I’m going to leave right now and…”
Lydia speaks up, “why?”
Both Scott and Stiles look at her and then they both seem to realize again how
naked she is and Scott looks away quickly while Stiles responds with, “why,
why?”
“Because Scott is our alpha and he apparently needs to be surrounded by pack
right now and we’re here. It’s fine.”
Stiles smiles at her and kisses her quickly before turning to Scott, “you heard
her, it’s fine.”
Scott looks uncomfortably torn, “will you be putting on more clothes?”
Lydia replies immediately, “will you be taking more off?”
That punches a laugh out of Stiles, “Lydia, stop torturing him.”
“I mean, you’ve both seen each other naked and you’ve seen Malia naked.”
Scott turns towards them but he has his eyes closed, “I just want to state for
bro record that you and I have not seen each other naked Lydia.”
Lydia rolls her eyes, “I think we all just need to accept a new normal based on
what is best for the pack. Now, Scott, you should undress to your level of
comfort and Stiles can be in the middle.”
Scott looks at Stiles and Stiles just shrugs, “she’s not wrong.”
Scott huffs a little and then sort of shuffles towards the bed like it’s going
to bite him, but he doesn’t leave. Lydia scoots over a little more and lays
back down, pulling Stiles with her so that he’s curled up with her and facing
Scott.
Scott pulls off his shirt and then looks down and seems to come to some
conclusion before shucking off his shoes, socks, and jeans. He crawls into bed
and the scent of Lydia and Stiles and sex is even stronger and he tries to
breathe it in to see if it’s weird. His wolf sort of turns over a little, like
a funny feeling in his chest.
Scott rolls towards Stiles and their legs come together in a few places. He
smiles and places his hand on Stiles upper arm and watches as Lydia’s smaller
hand covers his.
Stiles speaks first, “dude, your eyes are doing the red thing.”
He sounds hesitant, like he’s not sure he should let Scott know. Scott smiles
sort of stupidly, “I think it’s because my wolf really, really likes that you
two are, um, together.”
Lydia pipes up from the other side of Scott, “why?”
Scott shrugs, not even trying to hide the way he’s breathing in the smell of
Stiles sheets and moving a little closer till his cheek is pressed up against
Stiles’ sternum, “Well, I guess you guys smell more like each other right now
than you ever have. Like when me and Allison’s scent started mixing. Or Erica
and Boyd. You can just tell as a wolf when two people are together. And I think
that my wolf sees it as a unity of sorts. That you’re committed to each other
and to the pack.”
Lydia smiles, “see, not weird.”
Stiles looks down to wear Scott is pressed to his front even as he strokes a
hand through Scott’s hair for something to do, “no, it’s still a little weird.”
Scott nods, “yeah.” He doesn’t move though.
Stiles looks at Scott and thinks about something he’s been working on, “hey, do
you guys mind if I try something?”
Scott looks up with a wary gaze, “like what?”
Lydia just says, “sure.”
Stiles grabs Lydia’s hand and brings it around to his heart, “Ok, Scott, put
your hand under Lydia’s, right on my skin over my heart.”
Scott does what he’s told and Stiles lays one of his hands on top of theirs,
“ok, Lydia, I need you to think about Scott. Think about how you feel about him
and the pack. I’m going to do the same. I’ve been working with Deaton and doing
some studying on how to build and manipulate the emissary bond I share with
Scott.”
Scott looks at their hands and then looks at Stiles, “what do you want me to
do?”
“Just think about finding the thread like you did for me that night you pulled
me out of my shock.”
Stiles gets this look on his face like he’s concentrating, “Deaton said the
trick to magic is to concentrate on what you want without using your will to
force it because then you overthink and your mind gets in the way and you get
blocked.”
Scott nods, “when will I know when it…”
He jerks a little but maintains the link. Scott feels this warmth inside of
him, like light coursing through his veins. It’s like a tiny version of what it
felt like to become a true alpha. Scott tries to gather it up and draw it in.
He hasn’t felt something this wonderful in a while.
Scott looks from their joined hands to Stiles’ face, “What is this?”
Stiles exhales and when his eyes focus on Scott the feelings fades, his control
over the connection waning, “that is how Lydia and I feel about you. I used our
connection to push our feelings in this moment through to you.”
Scott has to process that for a second before he’s grinning at Stiles, “that
was amazing. You’re amazing.”
Stiles grins back, “well, I mean, I’ve got a long way to go before I’m like
Deaton-level emissary material, but I’m working on it.”
Scott peeks over at Lydia, not even caring that she’s naked anymore, “is that
really how you feel about me?”
Lydia smirks, “Of course. You’re our friend and our leader. We’d do anything
for you.”
Scott leans in really quick and presses his lips to Stiles’ before pulling away
and leaning over Stiles to press a quick kiss to Lydia’s shoulder.
They don’t need to use words after that.
They all fall silent and they just breathe together in the warm, crowded nest
that is Stiles bed as the cool night air blows into the open window.
Stiles wakes up the next morning more gently than he normally does. Instead of
jerking out of sleep he wakes up like he’s floating down. He realizes he is
very warm and when he takes stock of his surroundings he remembers he is
sandwiched between a very naked Lydia, who has turned her back to him in the
night, but has managed to keep their legs tangled together, and a sorta naked
Scott.
Scott has also turned his back and has taken Stiles with him so that Stiles’
body is pressed into Scott’s back and Scott is cradling one of Stiles’ arms to
his chest and making a strange rumbling sound that Stiles is not going to call
a purr. He takes a moment to consider the differences of being in bed with a
man. He’s thought about it, but he’s never slept with a guy so this is
different. He and Scott’s recent foray into snuggling hasn’t been this
intimate. Stiles decides he likes it as long as Scott and Lydia are ok with it.
Stiles looks down Scott’s shoulder to his arm where the tattoo that Stiles
hates is. From this angle it almost looks like the beginning of a ripple, a
line that begets another line, out and out into forever. Stiles life feels a
little like a ripple that started when Scott was bit, the repercussions
expanding out into still water set in motion. He finally feels like some of
those ripples are starting to manifest change in his favor. He feels Lydia stir
and roll over… definitely in his favor.
 
                                                              
[McStydia]
 
Flash-forward many years
It’s Scott who knows first, even though he doesn’t know he knows. In fact, what
Scott doesn’t know he knows could probably fill a book. But, like Derek said,
it’s harder to be turned than to be born. So, yeah, Scott scares the shit out
of all of them.
It starts when he comes in from work and moves to kiss Stiles on the side of
the neck as he stirs whatever’s for dinner on the stovetop. Scott turns as
Lydia comes into the kitchen from her study and as she gets nearer to him he
feels his wolf turn over with his stomach, she smells different. Not bad, but
different from the day before.
Scott pulls her to him, sniffing her neck deeply, a small whine pulling at his
throat before he even realizes he’s made a noise. He holds her apart from him,
“you smell different.”
Lydia huffs and rolls her eyes, “I’m trying out a new perf…”
“No,” Scott tries to make himself clearer, “you smell like something has
changed. Something is off about your body chemistry. Your base scent has
changed and it’s something I don’t recognize.”
Lydia freezes for a minute, her quick mind forming connections faster than
Scott can put things into place in his mind, “do I smell sick?”
Scott knows what she’s asking and he realizes as he hears the clatter of a
spoon hit the floor that Stiles does too. Both Lydia and Scott turn towards
Stiles. Scott sees the moment that the ghost of Stiles’ mom flickers in the
depths of those honey brown eyes and he hears Stiles’ heartbeat stutter over
its normal beating rhythm like someone who falls trying to go down a set of
stairs too fast.
“Lydia,” it’s a painful whisper of a sound and Scott feels her stir behind him
before she moves rapidly towards Stiles, her arms around him in an instant.
“No. Don’t you even think it Stiles. I’m going to go to the doctor. Tomorrow.
No waiting. I’ll do whatever they ask and you’ll see that there’s nothing to be
worried about.”
Scott isn’t surprised that Lydia isn’t concerned for herself, but for Stiles
and how losing his mom paints his reaction to things, especially things like
this. If Scott hadn’t been so surprised he would have been more tactful. The
idea of one of them hurt or sick affects each of them on a visceral level.
Scott’s not sure who he’d be, who he’d become, without them.
So even though it’s probably nothing, Scott assures himself, they are going to
the doctor right away. He presses himself to Lydia’s back and runs his fingers
through Stiles’ hair where his face is pressed into Lydia’s hair. He smells her
again and his brows come together in confusion. She doesn’t really smell sick,
but she smells like something that Lydia’s never smelled like. Not an emotion
but something more integral, more important.
It isn’t until days later, when they’re sitting in the doctor’s office that
Scott discovers how right and how wrong he was.
The doctor looks over his desk at the three of them. He looks at Stiles’ white-
knuckled grip on Lydia’s right hand. He looks at Scott’s relaxed and supportive
grip on Lydia’s left hand. He looks at Lydia’s supremely naturally calm face.
The one that Scott knows she uses when she’s freaking out on the inside.
The doctor clears his throat before saying, “Congratulations Ms. Martin, you’re
pregnant.”
“Oh,” is all Lydia can say as the death grip Stiles had on her hand relaxes and
Scott’s grip tightens imperceptibly.
End Notes
     Please let me know if you liked it. I appreciate every kudos and I
     respond to all comments.
     Warning: there is some SLIGHT dub-con because the incubus touches
     Stiles to feed from him. Obviously, the touching is happening without
     his permission, but no sexual assault occurs.
     I suck at tags, let me know if you think it needs more.
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