It's a Saturday when the Sheriff frantically calls Lydia and says that he needs someone to pick up Stiles from the oral surgeon's office.
Apparently sometimes being a sheriff had to rule over being a Dad.
Of course it has to be on a night when Lydia had actually decided to go on an actual date with someone new, someone who didn't know about the supernatural, and was actually normal.
The things she did for this boy.
She calls her date and quickly cancels, explaining the situation as best she can. She tells him she'll call him back later and they can reschedule.
She's dressed up to go out, in heels, her prettiest blue dress, and her hair styled in curls. The receptionist looks surprised at the sight of Lydia stalking towards her looking like she's come from some posh restaurant.
"I'm here to pick up Stiles Stilinski," she says as sweetly as she can, and the woman gives her a look over before speaking -
"The Sheriff said he was sending someone in his place to pick his son up," the woman says skeptically, "Can I see some ID?"
Lydia digs out her driver's license from the depths of her practically bottomless purse, and pushes it over towards the woman. She examines it with such precision you would have thought Lydia was asking to see a prisoner - not taking a boy home.
"Everything seems to be in order," the woman stands up. "He should be coming out the anesthesia soon. Follow me."
Stiles is in one of those torturous looking dental chairs, his head lolling against his shoulder, his breathing deep and heavy, dressed in sweatpants and a sweatshirt. The receptionist leaves them, and Lydia sits by his feet, tapping her heels against the floor and studying him.
If someone had told her three years ago that she'd cancel a date with a hot boy so she could pick up Stiles Stilinski from getting his wisdom teeth out - well Lydia would probably recommend you for Eichen House.
She can't quite see that Lydia anymore however, like a blurred version of somebody she used to know, and can't really imagine a world where she wouldn't do this for Stiles. Or Scott. Or Kira, Liam, or even Malia.
His eyes start to flutter open, and he just looks confused.
"Hey," she says softly, gently placing a hand on his knee. "You feeling okay?"
She really didn't want to clean up after his vomit.
"Lyd -Lydia?" he mumbles, his voice slurred and his eyes barely open.
"Yep, it's me!" Trusting that the Sheriff had filled out the paperwork necessary, she moves to the right of Stiles' head, "I'm here to get you home, can you stand up?"
He sloppily reaches for her and loosely grabs her arm, before pressing his face against the side of her head, burying his nose in her hair.
"You smell nice," he crows, "like sunshine."
She rolls her eyes, just as the doctor comes into the room. He's smiling, the creepy smile that doctor's give people, and it makes Lydia cringe. To her, all doctors look the same, the crinkly brown eyes, the fake smile, the too big hands -
"You're the one to pick up Stiles?" he asks, as Stiles manages to get himself into a sitting position, still leaning heavily on Lydia.
"That would be me," she says, adjusting her weight naturally to support his, not wanting to think about the last time she had to help him like this, or the last time he helped her -
