They always forgot how vulnerable the boy could be, how he wasn't like the rest of them with healing powers and built in armor. He joined them with a baseball bat as his weapon; no fangs, no claws, no super strength. Just a metal bat. The war was ending, a pack of wolves from a city near Beacon Hills attempting to kill Scott's own pack. They fought them off, all of them. Scott, Malia, Liam, hell even Lydia insisted she help with her newfound banshee skills. And Stiles. The human.
It was hard at first to try and fight and take care of the boy simultaneously. He was someone they didn't want to have to worry about. So they didn't. They let him fend for himself when he argued he could. It ended badly, of course but he didn't show it. After their little war, Stiles offered anyone who needed it ride home. Malia said she felt like walking and Liam was going home with Scott. He looked at the strawberry blonde, hopeful. "My car is just down the road." He smiled and told her good night as they went their separate ways. She turned around upon hearing him wince and noticed the blood his flannel had hidden earlier, the way he held his hand shaking over the spot. Watching in secret, Lydia looked on as he stumbled behind the wheel of the jeep, closing his eyes for a moment before starting the vehicle and taking off.
She followed him home, as creepy as that may sound, but he never noticed until she pulled into his driveway behind him.
"Need a hand?" Lydia was right at the drivers side as soon as he went to get out. Chuckling, Stiles played it cool.
"I'm fine, what're you talking about?"
And then he received the look, the famous Lydia Martin look that told him he should know better than to lie to the girl. Defeated, he sighed and winced when he slumped. "Help me out of the damn jeep." He grumbled. Wrapping his arm across her shoulders, Lydia lead him to the front door and waited patiently as he unlocked it before assisting him inside. There she forced him to lay on the couch as much as he insisted on getting the first aid himself, she demanded directions as to where it was.
"It was the, uh, one with the long nails." He cleared his throat and tried not to breath as Lydia sat next to his legs on the couch and slowly peeled up the end of his shirt. A curse left her lips. It was pretty bad, she was surprised he'd made it this far without bleeding more than he was. "I think some of her claws broke off, um–"
"In you?" Lydia finished. He nodded, gulping at the thought. There were four long claw marks down his side, starting an inch or two above his belly button and ending right at the start of his jeans. Upon looking a little closer, Lydia was almost positive he was right about her claws breaking off in his side.
She cleared her throat and nervously asked if he could take off his flannel and shirt. He stuttered out a yes and groaned when he sat up, blood gushing from his side and Lydia quickly moved to put a towel under him as he complained about not getting it on the couch.
"Maybe we should call–"
"No, Lydia please," he begged, already knowing what she was going to say. "If you call Melissa she'll tell Scott and that's the last thing I want right now."
She sighed and agreed hesitantly before grabbing a pair of tweezers out of the first aid kit. He laid back flat again, holding his breath when he felt her tug the corner of his jeans down slightly further to make sure all of the wound was exposed.
"It's going to hurt." She warned.
"If it didn't I'd be a little concerned." He tried to joke but she didn't laugh so he assumed she was concentrating. Then he felt it, the sharp pain from her pulling something out of his side and it felt like a burning hell. He bit his bottom lip and closed his eyes tight and desperately tried not to squirm.
"Done." She mumbled and he let out a breath he hadn't even known he was holding, opening his eyes to see her holding the longest piece of a nail he'd ever seen between the tweezers. "How was that?" She asked.
"In a word: painful." He took a deep breath and attempted to relax as she began again.
