Context: Stiles reassuring Lydia. I. Love. This. But I couldn't think of enough to follow it and make it long enough to be a good imagine
New message from Lydia 1:04 AM.
Lydia: are you mad?
Stiles: no
Lydia: you sound mad
Stiles: How can you read my tone of voice over text?
Lydia: I can't.
Lydia: I just know
Stiles: I'm not mad Lydia
Incoming call from Lydia 1:37 AM.
"Lydia, I'm not mad."
"You sound mad."
"Babe–"
"Like, why wouldn't you be mad?"
"Baby–"
"I just don't believe that you aren't, you should be."
"Lyds–"
". . .sorry."
"Don't apologize, you didn't do anything wrong and I am not mad."
Lydia chewed on her bottom lip and fought the urge to cry, "promise?".
"You want me to come over?"
"No, no, it's early, you should sleep, I shouldn't be worried about this in the first place."
"It's okay,"
"I'm over thinking it, huh? Shit, I always do that."
"I can come over, babe."
"No, get some sleep." She felt the black hole in her stomach swell up a few sizes. His voice was rough and she could tell he was tired and she felt so horrible for keeping him up. A rustling came from his side of the line. "Stiles, go to bed."
"Nah, I'm gonna come see my girl."
"It's almost two AM."
"I wanna see you."
"Stiles–"
"I'm putting on shoes right now."
"Stiles, don't–"
"You can't stop me, I'm already down the stairs."
New message from Stiles 1:53 AM.
Stiles: little pig little pig let me in
"Your mom home?" Is the first thing he whispers to her when she opens the door and when she bows her head and answers "no" painfully quiet, he already knows how horrible this day has been for her. Stiles doesn't hesitate to take off his sneakers at the door and scoop the tiny strawberry blonde into his arms before shuffling down the hall to her dimly lit room.
He mumbles, "sorry" in her ear, though he's done nothing wrong, and kisses her temple and toes her bedroom door shut behind them once they're inside.
"You're not mad?" She persists.
He shakes his head. No, he is not mad that some of the lacrosse boys flirted with her at lunch, because she had ignored them and moved closer to Stiles. No, he is not mad that she didn't come to the lacrosse game after school, because he knew it had made her uncomfortable. No, he was not mad, because he is not Jackson.
When she slipped back into bed, he joined her and held her close and murmured beautiful nothings in her ear to make her smile.
"You must be tired." Lydia said.
"Nah."
"Liar. Ally told me Beacon Hills won because you scored extra points. Coach took you off the bench and I wasn't even there."
"Stop beating yourself up."
"You're tired and you drove here in the middle of the night because I was being dumb."
"I must really love you then, huh?"
She grinned, "mhm."
"Mhm," he mocked her and chuckled as if it was the funniest thing he had heard in a while, "and you're not dumb, you're just not used to dating the best boyfriend in the entire world."
"But you are tired, right?"
"Eh, just a lil sore."