Stiles jolted awake, sweating a little bit. He gulped down erratic, strained breaths, his eyes darting around the room wildly. As soon as he got his bearings and realized he was in his bedroom, the crippling anxiety in his chest eased slightly.

"Jesus," he muttered under his breath, running shaking fingers through his sweaty hair. His eyes searched out the picture frame on his dresser.

Scott. Lydia. Stiles.

All still in the picture, smiling away.

Still. That didn't always mean…

Stiles let out a shaky breath and counted the fingers on his right hand.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

He counted the fingers on his left hand.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

All there. Not a dream. Still on this plane of existence.

A gentle nudge to his thigh drew Stiles' attention to the petite redhead laying next to him. Stiles braced himself for the admonishing he would get for waking Lydia up in the middle of the night - again, but it never came. He smiled when he realized she was still fast asleep. The nudge had just been her shifting position.

Lydia was really good about waking up with Stiles when he'd had a nightmare and Stiles was more than happy to reciprocate. But they did have a test in the morning and Stiles' nightmares had been coming with more frequency since the pack had rescued him. He felt bad for depriving Lydia of her beauty sleep, not that she needed it, in Stiles' opinion.

Now, he was just grateful that she had stayed asleep. He looked down at her and snorted a laugh.

Lydia - smart, funny, loyal, fierce, beautiful Lydia - was drooling on his pillow.

Her face was relaxed, one hand bunched into a loose fist near her mouth and she was drooling. Her breaths came out in soft puffs, sending pieces of her hair floating around her face.

Stiles fought the urge to grab his phone off of his night table and snap a picture. He knew she'd kill him for that one, no matter how good the sex was.

Stiles smirked; the sex was damn amazing.

Watching Lydia sleep soundly was doing wonders for regulating Stiles' breathing. His head still felt a little light and he was definitely staving off another disassociation episode, but focusing on the rhythm of her chest rising and falling was stabilizing.

"Are you done staring? It's creepy," Lydia mumbled, shocking Stiles enough that he flailed and nearly fell off the bed.

"Jesus, Lyds!" he yelped, getting his balance back. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"Depends," Lydia mumbled, opening one green eye and regarding him curiously, "will it get you to stop staring at me?"

"Nope, never," Stiles grinned. He wiggled his eyebrows at her, "You're too gorgeous to not look at. Even when your hair looks like a rat's nest."

This time the nudge to his thigh was definitely on purpose.

"My hair's not a rat's nest," Lydia grumbled, rolling onto her side and grimacing when her cheek moved into the puddle of drool. She wiped at the damp spot a little, unconcerned about what Stiles would think. It was nice, she realized, to be able to be completely herself with someone.

"Oh it totally is," Stiles sing-songed. "But it's cool. You needed a flaw."

Lydia rolled her eyes, "Doofus." Her tone softened, "Any particular reason we're awake in the middle of the night?"

Stiles shrugged and forced a light tone, "Oh you know, the usual. Disassociation nightmares related to the PTSD of not existing on this earthly plane. Typical high school senior stuff. Right next to AP exams, college applications, and finding a bowtie to perfectly match my date's prom dress."

Lydia smiled at his mention of prom and propped herself up on her elbow, "Oh, right. Typical senior stress."

She reached out and rested a small hand on his upper thigh, rubbing small circles with her thumb.

"Want to talk about it?" she murmured. This wasn't the first nightmare Stiles'd had since she'd befriended him and it wasn't the first nightmare she'd talked him through, but they were different from his usual ones because of the disassociation. He didn't always believe he was real again and counting his fingers didn't always work since he'd been real the whole time, just on a different plane of existence. It honestly made Lydia's head hurt to think about sometimes.

"Nah," Stiles shook his head and flopped back down on the bed. He turned so he was face-to-face with Lydia. She offered up a small, tired smile.

"Okay," she said simply, resting her head back on the pillow. She reached for his hand and interlocked their fingers. "Love you."

Stiles scooted closer to Lydia and wrapped his body around hers, even though he knew she hated cuddling. She let out a soft, exasperated breath against his chest, but let him hug her close.

He needed an anchor.

"Love ya, Lyds," he muttered into her hair. "Even if birds could lay eggs on your head right now."

He yelped when she pinched his side, laughing a little. He murmured an apology and closed his eyes, falling back asleep, comforted by the warmth of her body and steady beating of her heart.

His breathing evened out and Lydia wiggled away from him a bit. She hated cuddling with a passion. She watched his chest rise and fall, understanding, a little bit, why watching her had comforted Stiles. She had her own nightmares and that feeling, the feeling of missing someone but not even remembering whom she was missing, stuck with her every day. In this moment, she couldn't imagine what her life would be like without Stiles, but there was always a part of her that get a cold chill when it remembered that yes, she had lived her life without Stiles and it was awful.

But watching him breathe? It relaxed her frantic, frayed nerves.

He was here. Flesh and blood Stiles. Spastic, ramble-y, protective Stiles.

He was here and he loved her.

Stiles Stilinski loved Lydia Martin.

Lydia Martin loved Stiles Stilinski.

She ghosted her hand over his collarbone, pressing a soft kiss to the fabric of his shirt.

He grunted in his sleep and Lydia laughed lightly, pulling her hand away from him. Half asleep, Stiles caught Lydia's hand and pressed a sloppy kiss to her palm before pressing it against his chest, right over his heart and holding it there.

The steady beat quickly lulled Lydia to sleep.

A/N: This really has no plot, but it was fun to write. I took inspiration from a post rongasm made over on Tumblr and ran with it.

This is literally the first ever time I've written Stiles and Lydia, so any and all feedback is much appreciated! :)

Come and chat with me on Tumblr (thewintersoldierdisaster) after tonight's episode airs!