Enjoy.
Imagine Stiles lying in bed with Lydia because she can't fall asleep by herself after they rescued her from Eichen, so they just lay there in silence, thinking about nothing and everything for they don't need to voice their thoughts - they never really did -, feeling completely safe for once even if only for a night.
It's comforting and good and just genuinely right, so Lydia finds herself moving a little closer to Stiles as she starts dozing off, and Stiles absently wraps an arm around her to make sure that she stays right there, that she knows that she can, that this - whatever it turns out to be in the end - is real.
So they just stay there, not a single worry as if they have all the time in the world to just be - they will eventually, sooner than they think - and feeling Lydia's steady breathing on his neck might be the best thing Stiles has right at that moment, knowing that she's alive and away from danger, safe in his arms as if she belongs there.
As if she always did.
(Lydia would disagree if he were to ever say it out loud. She'd say the best thing she has at that moment is the warmth of his body against hers, how protected she feels when he's close by, the peace his touch has always brought into her life.)
(They would, of course, have to agree to disagree.
Neither would really complain about it.)
And so maybe, just maybe, time passes them by. And maybe they're too close to think straight but neither of them really cares, not just then. Maybe Stiles cups her cheek and pulls her even closer as relief washes over him again, as realization hits him that she's there, so he sighs softly and Lydia thinks he kisses the top of her head, she's not sure.
Such a light, tender gesture catches her off guard even though she should know by now that Stiles is anything but predictable. That she never knows what to expect where Stiles is concerned and that that does nothing to make her want all of him any less.
It's so right she feels it in her bones, in the rush running through her veins, in her erratic heartbeat and uneven breath all of a sudden.
She loves it.
She loves him.
She lets him, and doesn't move away at all, maybe even closer as if it's still possible, as if any and all particles of her body have to be in contact with his, as if she was meant to be in his arms tonight all along.
(And maybe she was.)
His thumb brushing against her skin is soothing and Lydia tries her hardest not to succumb to sleep just then, not yet, glancing up at him to find him staring back at her, the fire in his eyes always there whenever she's in sight, whenever his guard is down for long enough for Lydia to see all he wants to say with his eyes.
She hopes he can see all that she wants to say now that she knows, for sure, how she feels about him without having to say a word.
And he does, of course, because if it's something that Stiles Stilinski can do better than anyone else in this world is to read Lydia Martin to her core as if he knows her by heart, all of her, and now he knows what he didn't before, what he couldn't see, and that changes everything.
Lydia feels naked under his stare for a fleeting moment before an almost shy smile tugs at the corner of his lips, and she wishes it wasn't the middle of the night so she could see it better. It's utterly heartwarming when he smiles genuinely and it's so rare that he does that she wishes things were different.
But then she remembers that she's the one putting such a smile on his lips and she settles, returning it the same way, timidly pulling his hand away from her cheek and entwining their fingers together in an almost rehearsed movement, as if they've held hands time and time again.
(And they did, only now it means more.)
Stiles closes his eyes, relaxing completely. In all truth, he's not sure if he's ever felt this at peace with the world, with himself, even with his demons.
He misses how Lydia stares for a few seconds, studying him as if she can only now see all of him too, how fundamentally his she truly is and has been for so long she can't pinpoint when it started, how nothing has ever felt so right as the moment that they're sharing right now.
And so she mimics him, nuzzling against his frame as if fitting a puzzle piece that had been lost and that is now in its rightful place, fluttering her eyes closed as tiredness wins her over at last, calming at the thought that they can just be, exist in each other's vicinity without colliding, gravitating around each other like magnets that just won't pull away.
It's strange to think just how much they can talk with their eyes when they can speak with their touch just as much. Maybe it's why there's a pull then, why she's suddenly so aware of every part of him so close to her, why she feels like she needs more, like she needs everything.
And not only that, but now she can finally admit to herself that she wants it.
Lydia doesn't open her eyes but she doesn't have to, not to know that Stiles seems to be experiencing something similar, how he's slightly fidgety now when he wasn't before. And she gets it.
Because it's always a shot in the dark, isn't it? Making the first move?
But she's tired of the odds always being against them, tired of fear ruling their lives as if they were predestined to fail to begin with, as if fate doesn't have a say in it after all.
She likes to think that fate is what brought them together, that their history is just waiting to be told, so Lydia takes matters into her own hands and can only hope it was already written.
Taking a chance, she pulls the trigger.
She doesn't waver, taking her time to let Stiles know exactly what it is that she wants, all that it means, feeling him tense beside her for a second before he's responding just as slowly to her presence, to her will and his own, letting themselves get caught up in the moment.
And she's not sure how long they breathe the same air, how long their noses brush together or how many times their lips meet teasingly, barely a brush as if they want to delay what they both know it's inevitable but can't because it is bigger than themselves, as if they can't help but to feel the anticipation first, bask in it, enjoying it crawling under their skin just at the thought.
And when their lips finally touch, fully and completely, it's as if nothing has changed, as if they've done it a thousand times before and then some. And even though it feels final, changing, it's new and unexpected in a way they weren't prepared for, so when they part sooner rather than later it's surprising and rational at the same time, logical in a kind of way that has them baffled at its simplicity.
They always wondered if they'd collide when they'd finally meet, sometime in the future neither was too sure they'd live to witness, two forces of nature destined to clash. Turns out they're two sides of the same, opposites compatible and perfectly matchable in any and all realms of reality, fated to complement the other in ways no one else can and it shows, and it's beauty in all its glory.
And it's why they don't overthink it, why there aren't words uttered to ruin a faultless balance finally reached after what feels like a lifetime.
Because they have this and all lifetimes afterwards to navigate their emotions, to learn them and live them fully as they should, to guide the other to be the best version of themselves they can be, to worship and be worshiped in a way so reverent that it'll shake the foundations of their being like they've never experienced before.
And all because now they know that it's tangible, that how they feel towards each other isn't just in their heads anymore and so the future doesn't seem as scary. And with the lives they lead, that's just about all they can ask for.
So they quiet and fall asleep in each other's arms because they have tonight if nothing else, and because they have each other.
xxxxxxxxxx
Author's note: Let me know what you think? :)
Imagine 1 - Post 5x16
Start from the beginning
