title: No Place Like Home
category: teen wolf
genre: angst
series: you & i verse
ship: stiles/lydia
overall rating: teen
word count: 1,454
summary: Lydia returns to Beacon Hills for the first time in 3 years.
read on ao3
Lydia knew it was a bad idea. A terrible, awful, completely ludicrous idea.
Hell, she'd thought about it a few times over the past 3 years, but she always knew it was a bad idea.The worse idea was actually coming back to Beacon Hills.
Ever since she received a certain late night phone call, she hadn’t been able to think about anything else. It was even in her dreams - she’d woken up half a dozen times in the past 2 weeks, disoriented and confused.
Plus, she couldn’t help but feel that the pull inside her chest was a sign.
So bad decision or not, here she was - back in her hometown, fresh off the plane with her bags in tow.
Even though she technically could be anywhere in the world right now - airports aren’t really that descriptive of the towns they are placed in - Lydia can sense the familiarity. She should feel incredibly tired from her 8 hour red eye flight, but she’s undeniably awake. It’s like the electricity in the air is different, like she’s tuned into this place and all the things it represents.
Which is probably true, since she once was a banshee in a werewolf pack that dedicated itself to protecting the town.
Lydia hails a cab as she exits the terminal, which was much easier than it had been in NYC. The driver helps her load her bags in the trunk, and they take off.
Beacon Hills looked like hadn't changed much in her absence. Same buildings and streets, and she assumes the people that live there.
Most people who grow up here don’t tend to leave.
The taxi drive from the airport to Allison's house isn't far. A drive in Beacon Hills never really was. But this drive would force her to pass by some difficult memories and thoughts, and Lydia really wasn’t looking forward to it.
As soon as they turn down the street, Lydia presses her lips together in anticipation. She hasn’t been here in 3 years, things had to have changed, right?
"Can you slow down a bit?" Lydia asks the driver, as they creep up on a light blue colored house.
It looks the same as the last time she'd seen it: front porch lights on, the garden and flower beds in a constant state of disrepair, police cruiser in the driveway.The only major difference was that the car didn't belong to the sheriff.
Lydia felt her heart lurch as she thought about it for a second. So he'd made it through the academy after all. She thought.
She motioned to the cabbie to drive on. They'd be plenty of time to see what else may have changed.
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"I can't believe you're here!"
Lydia grinned from behind the thick, dark curls that fell into her face as she hugged her best friend. "Me either, it feels surreal."
Releasing Allison from the hug, Lydia drank in the sight of her. She hadn't gained a pound since she'd last seen her. Keeping up with her little girl must keep her very busy.
Lydia's attention is shifted from Allison to the man who comes up behind her.
"Lydia." He says, his smile genuine as he steps forward and offers his arms to her.
"Scott." Lydia's smile grows bigger as she accepts the hug, feeling the familiar warmth of the true alpha’s embrace.
Lydia holds on a little longer than what might have been considered normal to anyone else. Maybe all the emotional distance she’s put between herself and anyone else is to blame, but the warmth of the hug seems to spread to her heart.
She releases Scott abruptly when she realizes it’s been a little to long. She scoffs a bit when she sees his perplexed expression and waves him off.
“Well, when do I get to meet this Vicki I’ve heard so much about?” She forces herself to say, trying to clear the tension.
Ally laughs a bit and Lydia can tell she’s avoided the subject for now. “Vicki’s in bed, but you’ll meet her tomorrow. Come on, we’ll help you with your bags.”
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Lydia doesn’t know how long she sleeps.
Jet lag has definitely taken over her system - she’s groggy and still exhausted when she finally opens her eyes. There’s sunlight peering into the room through the blinds, the lines of light striping the bedspread of Scott and Allison’s guest room.
Yawning wide, Lydia hunches over the side of the bed to look through her purse Finding her phone fairly quickly, she unlocks it to check the time.
Not bad, since she essentially fell asleep around 8am in her usual time zone. Lydia gets up and pulls her long waves into a bun to keep it from falling into her face. Pulling on the cardigan she wore on the plane, she exits the room to make her way to the bathroom.
It sounds like Allison and Scott have company - there’s laughing and other sounds that have blended into white noise from this end of the house. Lydia misses that type of hustle and bustle of having people around, and she’s feeling more and more at home by the second.
She comes to a stop in front of the bathroom she had used last night to wash up, seeing that the door is closed. Sighing, she leans up against the wall to wait.
The occupant takes no time at all, it’s about a minute at most before she hears the tap running as the user washes up, and then opens the door.
Lydia’s senses fail her and everything seems to stop as she comes face to face with the person she’s been dreading to see.
Stiles looks like a deer caught in headlights when he looks up and catches her eye. His face stills and he stumbles mid-stride on his way out of the room.
That typical, hair spiked up in all directions must still be his thing, because his hair is styled that way. He’s wearing dark jeans and a signature blue-and-red plaid button down, and he looks good. Lydia feels her mouth go dry as a wave of nostalgia crests over her.
Stiles does a bit of a double take, as if he isn’t sure that she’s really standing there. “L-lydia. Heey.” he says lightly dragging out the word.
Lydia forces herself to breathe and nervously darts her tongue out over her lips before breaking the silence. “Hi, Stiles.” She manages, her voice so soft it’s almost a whisper.
Lydia can feel the awkwardness seep into the air, so thick she could cut it with a knife. Desperate to ease it, she attempts small talk.
“What are you doing here?” She tries.
“Uh, well. We all usually end up here on Saturdays, you know. Family stuff?” He ends the sentence like a question, scratching the back of his head like he’s unsure if that was the right answer.
Another beat passes, and Lydia really wants whatever god or deity that decided this was okay to appear and take her away from this situation.
Stiles bites his lip absentmindedly before he speaks again. “So, how was your flight?”
“Oh, it was fine for a red-eye, but I did have to take off out of Newark so that was just spectacular.” Lydia rambles a bit, wishing he’d just go back to the living room and stop asking questions.
“Newark?” Stiles looks like he’s been hit over the head with something.
“Yes, the airport in Jersey, Stiles.” Lydia forces herself not to roll her eyes.
“Oh-h. Right.” He stammers.
The awkward tension is getting even worse, so much so that she’s sure if they stand here any longer, the werewolf downstairs will definitely come looking to see what’s the matter. After a beat she seems to find her voice, keeping her eyes from looking at Stiles.
“Well, I’m just gonna-” She trails off, jerking her thumb in the direction of the bathroom.
“Oh. Yeah, totally. Do that. It’s all yours.” He breathes out.
Lydia offers him a thin smile, and goes to move past him. Instead of avoiding contact like a normal person, she stumbles into him and has to steady herself by grasping onto his biceps,
Which, if it were any other situation, she would definitely appreciate the definition and shape they have achieved since she’d seen him last.
Lydia gasps and releases him as quickly as she latched on, and he jolts away from her. She swears she hears him mutter “Oh my god” under his breath as she hastily closes the bathroom door behind her.
“Fuck” she mumbles to herself as she falls back against the door, her heart pounding wildly.
Well, that could have been worse.
