This one shot was written for stydia-fanfiction on tumblr with the prompt "Stiles and Lydia get in a huge argument and then later (while they're still mad) one of them gets hurt and the other apologizes and says they love them and everything's happy in the end". I didn't follow the request exactly but it's pretty close. Enjoy some Stydia feels!
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"We need to talk." Lydia's voice was tight and she crossed her arms over her chest. Stiles looked at her and when his eyes met her serious gaze, he gulped loudly. This wasn't going to be good. He held in a sigh and got closer to her. He tried to take her hands in his, but she wouldn't let him.
"I'm serious Stiles, we need to talk." Her words were a bit monotonous, as if she had rehearsed them a thousand times in her head.
"What's up?" Stiles was trying to speak in a lighthearted voice and made a small smile, but it didn't seem to calm Lydia down. On the contrary, she rolled her eyes at him with an exasperated huff. The boy cleared his throat and spoke again.
"Come on, tell me. You know you can tell me anything." This time, the words felt sincere and Lydia looked up to him with big, worried eyes.
"Lyds, tell me. What happened?"
"It ... It hasn't happened yet." Lydia's breath was sharp. She seemed to have trouble getting the words out.
"What hasn't happened yet? Is it related to your banshee powers? Did you feel something?" Stiles was starting to worry. They still didn't understand her powers completely yet. The only sure thing he knew was that they always meant danger, and death.
"No, I don't feel anything supernatural." Stiles released the breath he was holding. At least no one was dying.
"So what's wrong?"
"Nothing, it's just ... You can't go out with the pack on Friday." Her voice was firm.
"Why? You know they need me."
"Yes. But it's dangerous. And I ..." Lydia stopped and disguised the last word as a cough. "We need you alive."
Stiles had had this conversation a million times before. After countless arguments, he had convinced Scott he should come with them. To be honest, he had mostly convinced his best friend that there would be no stopping him, but it still counted. Stiles wanted to help his friends. He hated feeling useless and alone, staring out the window into the dark night as he heard the rain pouring down the roof and the distant howling of wolves.
"And you don't think I can fend for myself?" Stiles was on the defensive, his voice becoming a bit higher pitched.
"You can't heal like the others! You can't help them without putting yourself in danger. And then they'll have to save you and ..." Lydia lowered her voice and stopped talking as she saw tears starting to fill the chocolate colored eyes of the boy. Stiles blinked until they were gone. But when he opened his eyes again to look at Lydia, he looked broken.
"You think I'm useless?" The girl was at a loss for words. She had never seen Stiles like this and she had no idea how to respond. Nevertheless, she still didn't want him to go out and get hurt.
"Of course not, Stiles. But you have to stay home on Friday."
Stiles took a few steps back. He was tired of being the human, the weak one everybody else had to protect. Sure, he didn't have super strength and heightened senses, but that didn't mean he couldn't do anything. He was usually the brains of the operation, along with Lydia. But he didn't want to see all of his friends die one after the other because he was too weak. He was not going to stay behind. He closed his eyes and breathed for a while. Lydia had trouble containing her tears herself. She hated to see him hurt, but he couldn't know why she cared so much.
