The first time Lydia has the dream, it's their wedding night.
It's honestly a miracle that she even sleeps long enough to have a dream, but it catches her when they finally doze off for a short break.
She wakes up in a panic, but not a wail, confused by the lack of clarity. Usually, she knows when it's a premonition. She's got a good enough grasp of her power to tell the difference, but the haze of this one makes it too unclear to be sure it's a premonition, but too vivid to truly be just a dream.
It was just a dream, she tells herself anyway.
Stiles soothes her, pressing kisses into her hair as she shivers against his side.
It was a dream, she repeats to herself.
It's easy enough to believe, when it's only one instance, and her new husband is there to whisper how much he loves her into her ear as she comes undone.
Lydia tries to bury the dream from her mind. It's almost possible in the excitement of their honeymoon. She has no clue on what the itinerary holds, so every new detail takes the forefront of her mind.
Lydia handled the wedding, meticulously down to every individual flower petal, but Stiles had taken hold of their honeymoon plans. If it were anyone else — a ridiculous notion, really, having a honeymoon with someone other than Stiles — she wouldn't have even entertained the idea, but Stiles knows her better than anyone, perhaps even herself.
(Besides, she loves Stiles. Any vacation where they're together is good enough for her.)
It's only when they're on their way to the airport, and Lydia feels her heart clench painfully at the quick visions that fly past her eyelid.
"I'm sorry if this ruins any of your plans, but..."
She trails off, not even sure if she should ask this of him. It's stupid, it was just a dream, she shouldn't be so —
"What is it?" he asks.
"No driving?"
It comes out like a question, barely over a murmur. Stiles looks at her, a bit surprised, then concerned. "Did you have a feeling or something?"
"No," she says quickly. "No. It's just..."
She can't bring herself to finish what she's saying. It was a dream. It was just a dream.
Despite her lack of explanation, Stiles understands. He always does. He pulls her close, and whispers the promise into her ear, "No driving."
(Stiles, of course, plans the most perfect honeymoon. London and Paris, for a balanced split of luxury shopping and historical museums, and then a trip to Switzerland, for Einstein and beautiful mountains, then...
"Sweden?"
Stiles gives her a grin once she finds the next ticket. The Nobel Prize award ceremony.
"Now, I know that Nobel doesn't have a prize for mathematics, but we missed the Fields Medal, so..."
It's the most ridiculous thing anyone's ever done for her — this whole trip is — but it's also the sweetest, and a true testament of how much he adores her and puts her first. Instead of lazy days in sand and water, he fills her days with Einstein and prestigious awards ceremonies, but not forgetting her love for fashion, and being with her every step of the way.
Oh, how she loves him.)
The dream is barely remembered by the time they return from Europe. It's easy to get lost in the fantasy that they're just two normal people, going on their honeymoon, without any supernatural nonsense disturbing their celebrations. It's easy to sink into the sheets at night, tucked into Stiles' arm, and fall into a deep, peaceful slumber. It's easy to kiss her husband — her husband, they're married now, together forever — and say that she wants their vacation to never end.
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would you have not survived?
Fanfiction"You once told me that death isn't about you. It's about the people you leave behind," she reminisces with tears in her eyes. She's desperate, pleading. Stiles, for once, suddenly wishes she didn't pay any heed to his words back then. "Don't make me...
