[ THE RETURN OF TEEN ROBYDIA ]
It’s just a scratch he thought, “—-Ow!” Robyn yelped, snapping his teeth at Lydia as she dabbed his face with hydroperoxide. He didn’t mean to, but the burning sensation means it’s working and he’ll heal faster. A low rumble escapes the Beta’s throat, seeing as how their faces are in front of each other. “You’re dabbing too hard.” Robinson teases coldly, claw marks across his face and body as he lazily locks eyes with her.
They were huddled together on Lydia’s bathroom floor after Robyn escaped fighting an Ennis on his own. A brute of a werewolf, a hell of a fighter. Sometimes you have to play dirty to stay alive. He licks his lips, maybe it’s still the adrenaline— maybe, it’s Lydia’s rapid heartbeat from startling her. The werewolf is tense too, this isn’t how he wanted to spend his evening. “At least your mom’s away, sorry about the mess.” He pulls away to control himself, Lydia probably finds this stuff repulsive. “I don’t want my brother seeing me like this.” He mumbled, “Can I stay the night?”
Even as he winces in pain from her cleaning his wounds, she knows that Robyn won’t hurt her. It still doesn’t make the job of cleaning him up any easier. “Even though you heal, I am not having bloodied sheets. So, you need to stay still…” She worries her bottom lip between her teeth, trying to focus on the logistics of the task and swallow down the tangle of worry and anger brewing in her chest and the slight anger that he let himself get hurt like this. There’s frustration in her voice, but only because she cares. She cares in a way that feels strange in her bones, foreign within the walls of this house. Her parents never taught her how to care for people in a healthy way.
Crouched on the floor of her bathroom, she leans back, sitting on her knees and looking at him as he pulls away. “You don’t have to explain. You’d do the same for me.” She’s pretty sure, though, that he’d never let her get to this point before stepping in. Still, the feeling is real. “Of course you can stay.” She’s not entirely sure when she became a soft place for him to land, but somehow, it settles her—having him here, bleeding all over her bathroom, making a mess of her house. “I probably wasn’t going to sleep much anyway…” Whether it’s the banshee or just hyperfixating on something else to distract herself from it, sleep wasn’t likely.
“Will you please just let me finish cleaning you up?”