teen wolf. (laura/lydia.)
and i can't stay away. | laura/lydia (teen wolf).
pg 13. | 1.1k words. | potential spoilers. | for shipmateee. | ao3.
There’s no interaction, Lydia just sees her. Out of the corner of her eye, in a crowd of people at a lacrosse game, in the food court at the mall. Sometimes, she’s looking at Lydia, but most of the time, she’s looking elsewhere, at someone else, something else that Lydia can’t ever see.
un-beta'd.
It’s only a figment of her imagination.
She tells herself this with Peter, but it’s something entirely different (fascinating, enrapturing, captivating) this time.
There’s no interaction, Lydia just sees her. Out of the corner of her eye, in a crowd of people at a lacrosse game, in the food court at the mall. Sometimes, she’s looking at Lydia, but most of the time, she’s looking elsewhere, at someone else, something else that Lydia can’t ever see.
Part of Lydia wants to know who she is (the part that wants to know everything), wants to approach her, but once Lydia focuses on her, she vanishes, like she was never there.
A figment of her imagination.
A very beautiful figment of her imagination.
She doesn’t get to put a name to the face until Jackson finally stuffs his pride and goes to Derek, to the pack. (Lydia wins twenty bucks from her bet with Stiles.)
There are pictures on the mantel of the Hale house which is a work in progress. Some of older, singed on the edges, some are newer of Derek and the girl. She’s smiling in all of the pictures where she’s looking at the camera, still soft and happy in the pictures where she isn’t (Lydia wishes she knew how to achieve that).
Peter comes up next to her and Lydia doesn’t flinch, doesn’t ease away (it’s time she got over that). “My greatest regret,” and the sorrow in his voice is tangible in a way that makes Lydia’s chest pang, an emotion that she doesn’t know what to do with blooming in her chest.
Lydia opens her mouth and doesn’t know what to say, so she settles with, “She was beautiful.”
It’s quiet for a few seconds, before Peter glances away from the pictures and Lydia can feel his eyes on her, “She was,” he finally agrees and Lydia flees.
And she doesn’t see her (Laura, she tells herself viciously) for a week.
Then she (Laura) is back, but it’s different (unnerving, startling, disruptive) and she’s always watching.
She (Lydia) and Jackson break up, claim it’s on mutual terms, and Jackson starts to look less haunted.
Lydia feels more haunted.
She’s sitting in the grass (on a blanket, obviously) watching Derek train Isaac and Jackson when Peter settles next to her, smelling like nature and sweat. “You’re seeing her, aren’t you?”
(She wants to lie.)
“Yes.”
Peter nods and barely glances up when Isaac comes crashing into him, just curls his arms around the younger werewolf like it’s natural (then again Isaac looks perfectly content sprawled across Peter’s lap), “You really are special, Lydia.”
Isaac snorts and Lydia feels like she’s intruding on a private moment when Peter flicks him on the ear and starts murmuring to him in soft tones. And when she glances up, Derek is looking at her closely.
Later, when she’s home alone, Lydia pulls up the bestiary and looks up anything that seems relevant (medium, possession, haunting) and nothing seems to fit.
When she sees Laura again, she’s leaning against the driver’s side of Lydia’s car door when Lydia comes out to leave for school. She blinks a few times, glances around, before carrying on towards the car like she hadn’t seen her. (Nice cover, Martin, very believable.)
Laura laughs, this full happy sound that makes Lydia’s lips start to curl up at the ends, but she forces back to smile as she gets in the car and doesn’t jump when Laura is suddenly in the passenger seat, “Oh, Lydia.”
It takes two (four) tries to get the key into the ignition and Lydia is vicious as she jerks the wheel to back out of the drive, though it doesn’t phase Laura any. “Why are you doing this?” She finally snaps, grip so tight on the wheel, her knuckles are white.
She does jump when Laura’s fingers touch her cheek, the feeling like a feather brushing her skin, “Because you’re special, Lydia.”
And then she’s gone. (Lydia’s hands shake until second period and she’d need both hands to count how many people asked if she was alright.)
Nothing embarrassing happens, like crying in the middle of class, and the day ends. (She ends up standing and staring at her car for nearly ten minutes, waiting to see if Laura will show up, before calling herself an idiot and leaving.)
Laura isn’t there the next day either.
Or the next.
It’s five days before she sees Laura again (and she tries not to act like a jilted lover). “Connection issues?” She asks harshly as she climbs into the car.
Laura laughs (it’s so full of, well, life) and Lydia wants to scream.
“So I’m special?”
When she glances over, Laura is staring at her like she’s some abstract piece of art, “You really don’t know, do you?” And vanishes. (Lydia nearly slams on the brakes.)
And, she really doesn’t get it.
Laura is by her locker when she gets to the school (and she’s tempted to turn the other way) and Lydia tries to be angry, but instead feels exhausted as she twists her combination in. “I’m sorry for disappearing, I just don’t know how to explain it to you,” and her voice is softer than Lydia has ever heard.
(She hates herself for liking it.)
“How about words?” Lydia tries to keep the sarcasm out of her voice as she pulls a book out and shuts her locker door.
In an aborted move, Laura’s hand reaches out to her before dropping to her side, clenching in a fist, “Lydia, you were bit by an alpha and you didn’t turn and you didn’t die, don’t you realize how special that is?”
Lydia purses her lips, considers her answer, before shaking her head, “No.” And walks away.
At the end of the day, Laura is by her car, looking down at her hands, her jaw set. (Lydia has seen that look on Derek, when he’s trying to explain something that Isaac or Jackson just don’t seem to understand.) She veers off before Laura looks up and forces Jackson to give her a ride home.
There’s no sign of Laura for a week and then suddenly she’s everywhere again. (Back to square one.)
Lydia resigns herself to it, doesn’t attempt to approach her, doesn’t ask Peter about her, doesn’t do anything but go through the motions of school.
And maybe it’s anticlimactic compared to everything that has happened in Lydia’s life in the past year. What did she really expect to come from seeing a dead girl, woman, person? (She berates herself for it, because Peter is the antithesis of that.)
She also berates herself for expecting something.
pg 13. | 1.1k words. | potential spoilers. | for shipmateee. | ao3.
There’s no interaction, Lydia just sees her. Out of the corner of her eye, in a crowd of people at a lacrosse game, in the food court at the mall. Sometimes, she’s looking at Lydia, but most of the time, she’s looking elsewhere, at someone else, something else that Lydia can’t ever see.
un-beta'd.
It’s only a figment of her imagination.
She tells herself this with Peter, but it’s something entirely different (fascinating, enrapturing, captivating) this time.
There’s no interaction, Lydia just sees her. Out of the corner of her eye, in a crowd of people at a lacrosse game, in the food court at the mall. Sometimes, she’s looking at Lydia, but most of the time, she’s looking elsewhere, at someone else, something else that Lydia can’t ever see.
Part of Lydia wants to know who she is (the part that wants to know everything), wants to approach her, but once Lydia focuses on her, she vanishes, like she was never there.
A figment of her imagination.
A very beautiful figment of her imagination.
She doesn’t get to put a name to the face until Jackson finally stuffs his pride and goes to Derek, to the pack. (Lydia wins twenty bucks from her bet with Stiles.)
There are pictures on the mantel of the Hale house which is a work in progress. Some of older, singed on the edges, some are newer of Derek and the girl. She’s smiling in all of the pictures where she’s looking at the camera, still soft and happy in the pictures where she isn’t (Lydia wishes she knew how to achieve that).
Peter comes up next to her and Lydia doesn’t flinch, doesn’t ease away (it’s time she got over that). “My greatest regret,” and the sorrow in his voice is tangible in a way that makes Lydia’s chest pang, an emotion that she doesn’t know what to do with blooming in her chest.
Lydia opens her mouth and doesn’t know what to say, so she settles with, “She was beautiful.”
It’s quiet for a few seconds, before Peter glances away from the pictures and Lydia can feel his eyes on her, “She was,” he finally agrees and Lydia flees.
And she doesn’t see her (Laura, she tells herself viciously) for a week.
Then she (Laura) is back, but it’s different (unnerving, startling, disruptive) and she’s always watching.
She (Lydia) and Jackson break up, claim it’s on mutual terms, and Jackson starts to look less haunted.
Lydia feels more haunted.
She’s sitting in the grass (on a blanket, obviously) watching Derek train Isaac and Jackson when Peter settles next to her, smelling like nature and sweat. “You’re seeing her, aren’t you?”
(She wants to lie.)
“Yes.”
Peter nods and barely glances up when Isaac comes crashing into him, just curls his arms around the younger werewolf like it’s natural (then again Isaac looks perfectly content sprawled across Peter’s lap), “You really are special, Lydia.”
Isaac snorts and Lydia feels like she’s intruding on a private moment when Peter flicks him on the ear and starts murmuring to him in soft tones. And when she glances up, Derek is looking at her closely.
Later, when she’s home alone, Lydia pulls up the bestiary and looks up anything that seems relevant (medium, possession, haunting) and nothing seems to fit.
When she sees Laura again, she’s leaning against the driver’s side of Lydia’s car door when Lydia comes out to leave for school. She blinks a few times, glances around, before carrying on towards the car like she hadn’t seen her. (Nice cover, Martin, very believable.)
Laura laughs, this full happy sound that makes Lydia’s lips start to curl up at the ends, but she forces back to smile as she gets in the car and doesn’t jump when Laura is suddenly in the passenger seat, “Oh, Lydia.”
It takes two (four) tries to get the key into the ignition and Lydia is vicious as she jerks the wheel to back out of the drive, though it doesn’t phase Laura any. “Why are you doing this?” She finally snaps, grip so tight on the wheel, her knuckles are white.
She does jump when Laura’s fingers touch her cheek, the feeling like a feather brushing her skin, “Because you’re special, Lydia.”
And then she’s gone. (Lydia’s hands shake until second period and she’d need both hands to count how many people asked if she was alright.)
Nothing embarrassing happens, like crying in the middle of class, and the day ends. (She ends up standing and staring at her car for nearly ten minutes, waiting to see if Laura will show up, before calling herself an idiot and leaving.)
Laura isn’t there the next day either.
Or the next.
It’s five days before she sees Laura again (and she tries not to act like a jilted lover). “Connection issues?” She asks harshly as she climbs into the car.
Laura laughs (it’s so full of, well, life) and Lydia wants to scream.
“So I’m special?”
When she glances over, Laura is staring at her like she’s some abstract piece of art, “You really don’t know, do you?” And vanishes. (Lydia nearly slams on the brakes.)
And, she really doesn’t get it.
Laura is by her locker when she gets to the school (and she’s tempted to turn the other way) and Lydia tries to be angry, but instead feels exhausted as she twists her combination in. “I’m sorry for disappearing, I just don’t know how to explain it to you,” and her voice is softer than Lydia has ever heard.
(She hates herself for liking it.)
“How about words?” Lydia tries to keep the sarcasm out of her voice as she pulls a book out and shuts her locker door.
In an aborted move, Laura’s hand reaches out to her before dropping to her side, clenching in a fist, “Lydia, you were bit by an alpha and you didn’t turn and you didn’t die, don’t you realize how special that is?”
Lydia purses her lips, considers her answer, before shaking her head, “No.” And walks away.
At the end of the day, Laura is by her car, looking down at her hands, her jaw set. (Lydia has seen that look on Derek, when he’s trying to explain something that Isaac or Jackson just don’t seem to understand.) She veers off before Laura looks up and forces Jackson to give her a ride home.
There’s no sign of Laura for a week and then suddenly she’s everywhere again. (Back to square one.)
Lydia resigns herself to it, doesn’t attempt to approach her, doesn’t ask Peter about her, doesn’t do anything but go through the motions of school.
And maybe it’s anticlimactic compared to everything that has happened in Lydia’s life in the past year. What did she really expect to come from seeing a dead girl, woman, person? (She berates herself for it, because Peter is the antithesis of that.)
She also berates herself for expecting something.