Lydia Martin personifies (eunoia) wrote in multifariousic, @ 2015-06-30 22:23:00 |
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Finishing her project two days early might have given Lydia the time to sleep, but that didn't mean she was actually managing to do so. ...because she wasn't. At all. Talking to Kira and Malia helped a little because it distracted her worrying about herself, but as soon as she got the chance, her mind wandered right back off into worry and she was tense all over again. Even falling asleep wrapped in Barry's arms and hearing the slow, relaxed state of his heartbeat under her ear as she rested her head on his chest wasn't happening. Sure, she dozed occasionally, but she always woke up on the brink of a scream, having to swallow it back and force herself to settle because Barry needed his sleep, too, and she didn't have the heart to wake him. They'd spent the remaining two nights they'd had before he left tangled together in her bed, but Lydia hadn't gotten any quality sleep since Tony assigned the projects and she'd found herself developing a container which, if successful, would aid Barry in his mission in Ukraine, but...if unsuccessful, would absolutely kill him. Lydia worked well under pressure, but that was a stretch of her limits. So, when Barry kissed her goodbye and left, she sat, numb, on her couch, stroking Prada's back with no interest and waiting. She wanted to make sure that Stiles had time to say goodbye to Rae, too, and after the daylight had passed, just to be safe, Lydia felt herself go into autopilot. Her feet carried her forward and kept going until she found herself knocking on the Stileses' door. Lydia didn't even remember the trip. When he opened the door, Lydia just looked back at him, her hair tied up in a messy bun on the top of her head, no makeup on, in a pair of short shorts and one of Barry's button-downs with Prada in her arms. Her eyes were puffy and red and had dark circles under them. She looked exactly as exhausted as she was. "I just sent my boyfriend off to battle with a custom biohazard containment device I had to design and test...and if I screwed it up, it'll absolutely kill him. ...can I stay the night?" The words tumbled monotonously from her before she could stop or filter them. Well, at least it's pretty straightforward, she thought with a tired sigh. Stiles had faith that Rae was going to come home in one piece; she was a goddess, after all. It wasn’t like she was someone like Black Widow, or Canary, someone who had insane skills but was still mortal like the people that they defended. No, Rae was different, she was capable of things that Stiles knew he couldn’t even dream of, and he liked that about her, a lot. What he didn’t like, however, was when her endearing culture confusion slipped into a sheer lack of empathy or sympathy, not because she was a bad person but because where she came from, things were so different, and she truly didn’t know any better. The way that she told him that she was running off without any indication on when she would be coming home scared Stiles a lot more than he was willing to admit to her, or anyone, aloud, although he was pretty sure his double knew. His double probably saw it in his face that night while they played GTA5, but he didn’t ask. And Stiles was glad, because he didn’t want to talk about it. For now he was trying to distract himself from the fact that his girlfriend was running head first into her first battle against who knew what, and despite how much he tried, video games really weren’t doing the job. When he heard someone at the door he had immediately assumed that his double forgot to bring his key again, and Stiles groaned as he paused his game, taking the moment to run his fingers through his hair. “Seriously, dude? It’s not that freaking complicated, put it in your wallet or something, God,” he shouted through the door as he stood, knowing that he was probably being a bit of a dick but he was allowed to be, because he was upset and frightened and worried about his own relationship and just how deep that disconnect ran in it. When he pulled the door open, however, annoyance gave way to surprise when he saw Lydia standing there, looking… terrible. Yeah, the word was definitely terrible. She was talking, and Stiles wasn’t sure if she knew what she was saying because she said that she had a boyfriend, and she definitely didn’t, and she said that he was going to die if her invention didn’t work, and that didn’t make sense. Unless she did, and it did, and Lydia had fallen off of the face of the earth just as much as Stiles had, her life now just as private as his was. “Um… yeah?” Despite the fact that he responded in a question he moved aside to let her in, and he closed the door behind her, standing in a stunned silence before shaking his head. “Wait, hold on, what? Boyfriend? What?” “Thanks,” she said and it came out in a tired croak as she moved past him into his apartment, setting Prada down on the floor to wander off and sniff out his new temporary surroundings, when he stepped aside to let her. Lydia knew that Stiles would let her in. It was why she warned Barry that she’d be there — she didn’t want him coming home and going straight to her apartment to surprise her if he was early only to find it empty save Prada. Moreover, she thought he deserved to know that she was going to be staying with another guy while he was gone. In retrospect, she probably should’ve explained how entirely platonic it was going to be, but she’d have to address that later, because it was too late, now. She turned to look back at him when he spoke again, asking questions she hadn’t been ready to answer, but she supposed there it was; her word vomit had left her in this position and she only had herself to blame. Rather than answering right away, she looked over at the television to see the paused video game and moved to sit on the couch. “He promised to look after Rae for you,” she replied, instead, her voice flat. Stiles watched as Lydia moved numbly through his apartment, and he stared at her with concern in his eyes before pulling out his phone and sending his double a quick text message to warn him of her presence when he arrived. He slipped his phone away and then followed her to the couch, but his steps stopped abruptly when she mentioned Rae. And some guy promising to protect her. “...She’ll be okay.” He responded almost defensively, and he wasn’t exactly sure why. Maybe because he wasn’t sure if she would be, or maybe because Stiles knew very well that she was constantly surrounded by guys more capable of protecting her than Stiles ever could be. His stomach gave an uneasy flip at the thought, and he moved to sit beside Lydia and grab his controller to shut the game off. He turned a different one on, one with a little less unnecessary violence, and he handed the other controller to Lydia. She probably would have no idea what she was playing, but Lydia was like him. Mindless distractions helped. “So are we not going to talk about the fact that you apparently have a boyfriend?” He continued flatly, starting the game and jumping in. “...She didn’t even know when she was getting home.” He switched directions abruptly, because he didn’t want to talk about it, but he couldn’t not. “She just… randomly said she was leaving. Had a mission.” His jaw tightened. “Wasn’t sure how much she was ‘allowed’ to tell me. So. ...Yeah, she’s gonna be fine. She’ll be okay.” Stiles didn’t know who he was trying to convince anymore. He switched again. “Secret boyfriend that best friend apparently isn’t allowed to know about got a name?” Lydia's eyes moved from the television screen back to Stiles as he sat beside her and handed her a controller. Like she'd have any fucking clue how to play whatever game he had in there. She opened her mouth to respond to his question and then stopped to let him go on...and her heart sank for him. Taking a deep breath, Lydia sighed it back out, softly. "Barry doesn't know, either, but I guess they're aiming for the fourth or sooner," she replied quietly, running a hand up to go through her hair before remembering belatedly that it was tied up. Her hand dropped back into her lap. "And if it makes you feel better, all I know about it is terrorists and biochemical warfare, or the potential for it...and the only reason I know that is because I was assigned the project to make the container Barry has to use to transport said weaponry out... And he's not a secret, I'm just...still adjusting to the titles...it's new," she finished. Her eyes moved back to the television and she set down the controller on the couch cushion beside herself. "Stiles, even if I did know how to play video games, I haven't slept in four days unless you count the twelve hours of drifting off and waking up over and over two days ago, but I don't feel like that should count. There's no way I'm going to be able to figure this stupid thing out, I'll just watch you play." Stiles admittedly did a double take when Lydia finally said Barry’s name, because he was pretty sure that she was talking about the Flash, and Stiles wondered if she had any freaking idea how awesome it was that she was dating the freaking Flash in the first place. Well, that, and the fact that he really didn’t seem her type… he was a superhero or whatever, but he was no Jackson. And he was definitely no Aiden. He would have asked but he decided against it, allowing her to continue and looking back at his television before continuing to play. His hand faltered and he died when she said that there was biochemicals, because Stiles didn’t know a whole lot about goddesses but he was sure they could handle biochemical warfare… right? Rae would be prepared for that… right? Stiles suddenly felt a little sick, and he had set his remote down before Lydia had even announced that she didn’t want to play. “Adjusting. That makes sense.” He nodded numbly when she explained, the new information swirling around in his head. Biochemicals. They weren’t exactly something that Rae could hit until it stopped moving… maybe it wasn’t something she knew about at all. And Lydia had been apparently worrying in the exact same way, but she had to build the device that Barry was using to move the chemicals in the first place. If it failed… “The container will be fine.” He reasoned, shutting off his console before standing and offering his hand to Lydia. He wasn’t sure, but he guessed that he knew what she needed. He needed it too, now, the company and reassurance of a best friend who knew how they were feeling. “You built it. It’s going to be fine. Besides, he’s a superhero. ...They’re superheros, they’re going to be okay. ...Right?” He hated that he had to ask in the end. “...Come on, you should get some sleep. You look awful. ...In the good way. Definitely the good way.” "What, Stiles?" Lydia asked, sounding a little more exasperated and annoyed than she actually was. The double take hadn't been lost on her and she wondered — blearily, because she never would have thought so coherently — whether Stiles was secretly judging her. "He sucked at friends with benefits...and I wasn't ready to give him up, yet, don't judge me," she complained, sounding too exhausted to have much conviction. She sighed, brow creasing, as soon as it came out of her mouth and she immediately followed it with an apology, tacking on, "I'm just tired, I didn't mean that." "The container was fine at Mach 3," Lydia corrected, sounding completely deflated. "I have no idea whether it'll be all right at light speed." The confession was one that had been weighing painfully and heavily on her since Tony had given the containment unit the seal of approval. She couldn't admit it to Tony; he'd push her harder and tell her that if she wasn't sure, then to make herself sure, but there was literally no way to do that other than to give it to Barry, which was the thing that terrified her to begin with. There was no telling Barry, either. How did you tell someone that you were only fifty percent sure that his use of an object wasn't going to be as safe as literally anyone else's? But then Stiles was trying to reassure her only to end up sounding like he was the one who needed reassuring. So Lydia put on a small smile, because it was all she had the energy to manage, and nodded. "Yeah, they're gonna be fine, sweetie," she replied, but even Stiles would be able to tell there was no confidence behind the words. Lydia took his hand and dragged herself back to her feet, wrinkling her nose and frowning at his comment. "How does someone look awful in a good way, Stiles? God," she sighed. Stiles put both of his hands up to show no offence, holding a facial shrug when she had announced that she wanted to keep him around, and he shook his head. “I didn’t say anything! Nothing, it’s just… he’s not your usual type, I mean. That’s all, you usually go for guys that look like they could eat him.” He frowned a little when she apologized, however, and he gave a little shrug, dismissing the situation entirely because really, it wasn’t important. Lydia’s concerns, those were important. “To be fair, he can’t go that fast.” He said it before he could stop himself, “if he’s anything like the show then he can’t go up to Mach 3 yet, he’s at a steady 2 right now. Impulse though, he’s the one who goes twice the speed of light, so as long as he’s not the one who’s carrying it then they should be good.” He looked almost apologetic for knowing, but it wasn’t his fault; he didn’t know Barry when he started watching the show in the City. Hell, he didn’t even know him here, and he had no idea that Lydia was involved with him. He squeezed her hand when she tried to reassure him and he worked on his smile, but it still was far from convincing. With a little tug he started to lead her to his bedroom, and it wasn’t lost on Stiles how suggestive it probably would have looked to anyone else. But it was Lydia; the only thing between him and Lydia was a deep platonic love, and seeing her upset, suffering through the same emotions that he was, was killing him. “I don’t know. You’ve got it down though. Seriously, you’re pulling it off like a pro.” He genuinely tried to reassure her once more as he led her to his bed and Stiles sat on it, propping himself up against the headboard on top of the blankets, and he reached out an arm to welcome her. “Come on, sit, you’ll probably pass out and I don’t want you doing it on the couch.” Lydia’s brow creased and she looked down, shrugging. “Maybe I decided I like being able to actually talk to a guy. He’s on my level. It’s nice,” she confessed. She looked back up at Stiles at his explanation with one arched eyebrow and a wrinkled nose. “Why do you even know that?” she muttered before sighing and offering him a small smile. “...I’m glad you know that. Thank you, that...actually makes me feel a lot better,” she admitted. At the tug on her hand, Lydia obediently followed Stiles toward his bedroom, too tired to protest and, quite honestly, knowing that she needed it, anyway. She was far too fatigued to be bothered thinking about how suggestive it might look to any hypothetical onlookers, especially since they weren’t actually around. Giving a soft huff of a humorless laugh at Stiles’s reassurance, Lydia rolled her eyes playfully and climbed onto his bed, taking the open arm as an invitation to lean against him. “Whatever you say,” she yawned, leaning her head against his shoulder and closing her eyes. “...you’re a good friend Stiles. I love you, you know? You’re the best.” Her voice was small and he wasn’t wrong; she was already starting to drift. His mouth stayed open for a few seconds as he tried to come up with an excuse, but the truth ended up bursting out anyway. “He’s a superhero. He has a superhero show. I’m a nerd. Hello? Superhero’s? I’m into them? I’m dating one, they’re kind of interesting to me? Oh don’t look at me like that, you knew what this was.” He waved his hand at her, but allowed himself to smile when she said that it made her feel a little bit better. That was good, at least… he knew that Lydia was probably still concerned, but probably on Stiles’ level of concern now instead of practically blaming herself for her boyfriends inevitable biochemical death. He welcomed her into his side and he shifted comfortably so that they could both rest into his headboard and the pillows, wrapping his arm around her so that she could comfortably lean in. Once she settled Stiles allowed himself to rest his cheek against the top of her head, and he gave a tiny but genuine smile when she spoke. It was nice, having Lydia there in New York, despite the fact that he wouldn’t have wished this place upon anyone. The way that their friendship panned out was unconventional but it was now one of the best friendships that Stiles had, so knowing that he could make her feel a little better on some level eased him, and he could relax beneath her. “You’re a good friend too, Lyds. I love you.” It was probably the first time that he had said it to her and actually meant it, because this time, he knew what it meant, and he knew the difference. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, letting his own eyes close. “They’ll take care of each other. And you can stay here until they get back. We’re all going to be alright…” Being with Stiles like this was comforting; he was familiar and she trusted him. Lydia needed something constant while Barry was gone, someone to keep her grounded. She knew, as she’d told Barry, that Stiles would make sure that she ate and slept; didn’t forget to care for Prada. So when she felt his cheek against the top of her head, she took that to mean she could really relax and he wasn’t feeling awkward or uncomfortable. She nodded, just barely, against him when he promised exactly what she had been looking for when she’d asked him if she could stay. “Thanks, Stiles,” she practically whispered and she would never tell anyone how much more easily sleep came with Stiles than it had with Barry, because nobody except maybe Stiles would understand, but with the kiss to the top of her head and his reassuring words, Lydia was finally able to fall asleep. |