Past The Clouds We'll Find The Stars

Come on, come on. It had to be here somewhere.

Stiles shoved the covers off of his bed, rifled through them like a dog trying to dig up a bone in the heavy folds of fabric. He’d pulled everything they might need together last night and had left it all on the end of his bed when he’d rushed out to morning classes. Paperwork, ID, the neatly stapled together almost half inch thick stack of print outs for the possibilities he’d spent an entire weekend pulling together. Colour coded for freaking amazing but way beyond what was likely to be their budget, affordable even if it wasn’t as awesome, and seriously, what was wrong with it for it to be that cheap.

The paperwork was still there but sometime between him kicking out of bed half hour late that morning with the back up to the back up alarm shrieking and his Adderall sticking in the back of his throat, leaving him half choking as he ran down the hall, and now – gone. How?

Grumbling in the back of his throat, Stiles spun. Not many other places to hide stuff in a dorm room. It wouldn’t have crossed the line to Scott’s measurably neater side. He’d scrambled into clothes, scooped his books off the desk into his backpack, snatched up…

Damn.

Mentally kicking himself Stiles shoved his hands deep into his hoody pockets and started emptying them out. A ton of crap, pocket lint and stuck to the back of his wallet – bingo. He gathered the paperwork he’d moved to his desk like a baby bird together, tucked his ID into his wallet and bolted for the door.

Two years after him and Lydia had tipped over from a surprisingly solid friendship into more and they were taking the big step. Not a ring yet … although … Nope, she was gonna kill him before they got anywhere near that part cause a glimpse at the clock on the wall showed he was already five minutes late.

Stiles didn’t bother with the elevator, he clattered down the stairs instead. Leaping the last three steps, sneakers slapping down on the tile before he barrelled through the stairwell door. He had to dance around the half giant of an RA they’d had the last two years and threw up a hand in apology as Bram called after him to tell him to slow down. ”Later!” Stiles promised as he slowed to a jog.

Apartment hunting. Not as big a step as the big step, but still. Pretty damn far from where they’d been when she hadn’t even had a clue who he was.

By the time he reached the lot he’d got his breath back at least. Stiles’ smile was slow, broad, pressed against Lydia’s as she rose up on her toes to kiss him. His hand settled lightly at her hip – curling your fingers into her clothes was a sure fire way to get them slapped away, he’d learned that the hard way. ”Hey,” he drawled lightly. ”I am now.” The smile took on a grimacing edge as his other hand came up to smooth his ruffled hair. ”Decent, normal morning. Panic when I got back to my room though. I had everything set up, then I couldn’t find my ID. Had to tear the place apart to find it.” He wasn’t about to admit where though. ”How was yours? Did you pick up everything you needed to get away this afternoon?” Lydia probably could’ve missed half the semester and still ended up Valedictorian. He, on the other hand, had made sure they’d settled on a day where he didn’t have classes after lunch.

Tagged: LYDIA MARTIN * Word Count: 613

One small step – well, smallish – step for everybody else, one giant step for Stiles Stilinski. Settling was never word he’d found easy. The chaos in his brain that was only partly tempered by the Adderall that was constantly at hand made it almost impossible in most ways. The pills corralled him a little, at least allowed his brain to focus on one thing without skittering through a dozen turns that had him completely forgetting what the hell he was meant to be doing in the first place, but they weren’t a cure all. At this point it didn’t look like they’d ever find that for him. Some kids grew out of it, their maturing brains rewiring themselves. His hadn’t, the chances of it doing it shrinking with every passing year but he’d found ways to manage. Most of the time.

The hunt that’d torn through his half of the room like Hurricane Stiles proof they didn’t always work but for weeks he’d spent hours a day at his laptop, sometimes sprawled on his dorm room bed for Lydia, or hers, or spreading out with a dozen printed little bundles at a table at the Grill, picking through everything. Lists. Everywhere. Hell, he would’ve tied them together with string if it had made sense – there was no way Lydia would let him do that in a place they were renting. Security deposits were hefty and when they ended up moving again, he wasn’t gonna be spackling a million little holes in the walls with toothpaste to make sure they didn’t lose what they’d paid out.

His method of organisation was gonna have to change, along with a million other things, but this was gonna work. It had to.

Stiles kept his fingers curled around her hips as she settled down from the kiss – imagine doing that every morning without having to wait hours after you woke up, nobody threatening him with the rule book if they spent the night together – thumbs tapping lightly against her as he grinned. It turned a little sheepish but just for a heartbeat. He wasn’t that late. ”Five minutes,” he said like that was nothing at all. When you had appointments it was everything and they really didn’t need anything going against them with this. ”Step one after we get something bigger than one of those tiny dorm beds is you getting me all straightened out.” It was a promise Stiles knew he probably couldn’t keep any better than the ones he’d made his dad to stay out of trouble. No wince at that, he hadn’t had someone threaten to kill him in months, that had to be some kind of a record.

Plucking his wallet from his pocket, Stiles flipped it open to show off where he’d tucked it now, then tapped fingers against its back. He’d almost managed to keep all of this running smoothly. ”It just slipped out. All safe now though, and I’ve got everything else, pretty sure I do.” He patted his bag like a precious little pet before he reached past Lydia to tug open the passenger side door. Admittedly there was a wince there as he did it, some anticipation that the whole thing was suddenly gonna drop down on its wheels before it fell apart.

Nothing? Phew. Stiles let out a breathless little huff of satisfaction. The duct tape and crossed fingered repairs were holding for now. Considering how much the apartment was gonna cost them, it needed to keep running about another decade, then they should be good. ”And have them finished by dinner?” he asked with a grin. He smacked another kiss on her, knowing his own catch up session would probably have him sitting at his desk until dawn the next couple of nights, tearing his hair out. Unless he could talk Lydia into a study session or two – with strict rules on it swerving in any other direction. He trotted around to Roscoe’s other side, the groan the Jeep gave out as the driver’s door opened leaving him inching it closed as he got in. ”Did you wanna grab something to eat on the way back? You know, like a celebration?” Cause he was pretty damn certain this was gonna be a single day of apartment hunting and type thing. Luck had to be on their side some time right?

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Stiles looked past Lydia, studying Roscoe with a grimace. If there was any reason they’d really be late it would be the Jeep. It was a drain on his finances, on his life sometimes as he spent hours just trying to keep it on the road but at a time like this it felt a little like some part of his mom was with him. If he’d mentioned it to his dad he would’ve been there, face pinching as financial talk started. They didn’t have hospital bills holding them back anymore but his dad was never gonna be rich. Knowing about this he would’ve wanted to contribute and there definitely wasn’t room in the budget for that. Nope, this was going to be on their shoulders.

Squaring them, Stiles gave a little puff of disagreement. He looked back at Lydia and grinned as he shook his head. Today wasn’t the day for broken down Jeeps, this was a good day. ”This rust heap’s gonna make those five minutes up,” he promised. A mental crossed fingers tried to add a little hope to that as he pecked a kiss onto those pursed lips. This was gonna go fine, tonight they’d be renters. And that would come with a whole new set of reasons to be nervous.

It wasn’t exactly innocence on Stiles’ face as he shrugged. The grin broke through, heat around the edges that brightened as Lydia chuckled. They couldn’t exactly be sleeping on twin beds, like they were 10 year olds having a sleep over the way he and Scott used to. ”Hey, sleep’s important. Gotta keep this face pretty after all.” Turning his head into her touch, Stiles kissed Lydia’s palm. ”I love you too.” For that he loved her even more. For years he’d done everything possible to try and get her to notice him like that, knowing that he was never gonna be like Jackson, the sort of guy women like Lydia usually went for. Stiles made a low sound in his throat, brown eyes narrowing at her as he pretended to consider it. ”Maybe twenty five percent, with the right incentive.” Oh he could bargain just as much as she did. As long as there was enough floor space to store his t-shirts on he was happy enough.

Sharing a room with Scott he’d tried to be a little tidier but that hadn’t happened tonight. Stiles opened the door for Lydia, trying to keep up a poker face. ”Yep, just a little slip.” He puffed out a breath, his cheeks swelling, reddening. ”It’s nothing Scott hasn’t seen before. I’ll tidy up later.” And he’d apologise profusely before he busted out his news. Leaving Scott on his own felt kinda shitty but this was one opportunity he hadn’t seen coming when they’d started at Whitmore. Their friendship would survive it, it was just like Roscoe, holding together despite all its dings. Stiles patted a hand proudly on the side of the Jeep. ”Ye of little faith,” Stiles grumbled. He still took care though, not leaning in too hard as he kissed Lydia. Roscoe would get them to the meeting with the realtor and back again. That was all they needed.

The rest of the night was gonna have to be spent split between catching up what had been missed and celebrating. Or just celebrating. Stiles hummed thoughtfully, stepping back slowly as Lydia climbed in and he shut the door carefully. ”You’re a bad influence, you know that?” There was still a heat in his chest as he trotted around the Jeep though, a glow in his eyes that would’ve told everyone in a ten mile radius just how grateful he was for what he had here. The town might still have been a nightmare at times but it was one that came with blessings.

Stiles got in, buckled up and carefully closed the door behind him. He made a little pffft sound as he started up. Glancing across at Lydia as he cranked the engine and goosed Roscoe out of the lot. The drive wouldn’t take more than a couple of minutes anyway. ”You ever known me not to want to party? House warming with the whole pack there, pretty sure we can work that into the budget.” Scott and the others would never let them get away with not having one. It had been far too long since they’d actually had something to celebrate here anyway.

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Rattling up to the apartments in Roscoe might not end up giving the impression they could actually afford a place together. Duct tape wasn’t exactly cheap, but it was definitely cheaper than the flashy cars that tended to fill the lots at Whitmore. Like Mystic Falls, and Beacon Hills before it, half the place was inhabited by people who wouldn’t have batted an eyelash at the cost of tuition. They lived off the bank of mom and dad instead. Stiles winced faintly, stuffing the idea into the back of his mind like he was pummelling his pillow into submission. That had been Lydia once upon a time but now it was the two of them doing this all by themselves. And that was pretty damn scary.

By now Lydia probably had everything planned down to the last penny. Spreadsheets, budgets, lists. All those things he kinda failed at, always going for the shotgun approaching instead – and failing. Furniture was obviously on the list – you couldn’t spend your entire life sleeping on two twin beds jammed together – probably cheap and functional to start with at least. He’d been thinking that way at least. Beds were necessary for the sleep they were gonna need to get through all of this. Stiles’ brows flew up, absolute innocence filling his expression for just a heartbeat. ”Me?” He blinked like it hadn’t even crossed his mind but she was already smirking and he was laughing his way into another kiss. ”Anybody ever tell you that you’ve got an absolutely filthy mind?” Stiles tutted like her comment hadn’t put the sort of image that had heat rising to his cheeks right at the forefront of his brain.

Stiles shook his head at Lydia as she instantly agreed with her taking over three quarters of their closet. It was a good thing flannel didn’t take up too much room, whatever made the cut once Lydia finished picking through that for him anyway. ”I’m gonna end up with a single drawer by Christmas,” he joked, letting out a grumbling laugh. It was a good thing he loved her. He had to if he was gonna put up with all the jabs about Roscoe. Stiles mock scowled at her through the passenger side window. His fingers gentled though. ”You’ve got no faith at all.” He clucked his tongue, mock whispering sweet nothings to the jeep to sooth it’s feelings. ”It’s OK, she didn’t mean it.” If Lydia had, he was gonna block the seriousness out entirely.

He’d have said the kiss was for luck but they weren’t gonna need it. Not today. He got in, strapped in before he shot Lydia a narrow eyed look. How was she a bad influence? Pfft. Stiles laughed as he pulled out. ”I didn’t say you were entirely a bad influence. The crib sheets are a God send, but you, Ms. Martin, are still a temptress … you might have something better to do?” He shot the reminder at her, wiggling his brows as he clucked his tongue. Lydia’s personal brand of distraction was the only thing he’d needed in the world at times and he hoped he’d returned the favour when the world got back for her too. That wasn’t gonna be today though.

Tonight was gonna be a celebration, a precursor to the real thing when they actually got moved in somewhere bigger than a postage stamp. Stiles bumped the speed as they got out of the campus and onto a decent road that didn’t have the jeep bucking like a bronco. His eyes were sweeping the road, hands sure on the wheel – he knew how to keep Roscoe going when he needed to. ”You’ve already planned it all? You’re more of a genius than I thought.” Naw, he’d known how much she was from the start, which meant that Lydia knew how to get them what they wanted here. His own gut was knotted up tight, giving another painful lurch as he started down a block towards the apartment building. Someone was already hovering on the sidewalk outside. ”We’re not late, right?” Stiles asked tightly. He’d been maybe two minutes past the time they’d planned to meet when he’d bolted in the lot and they hadn’t spent that much time there, had they?

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Stiles had been a late bloomer, there was no denying that. He’d gone from practically begging someone to deflower him when virgins had been the first thing on Jennifer Blake’s sacrifice wish list to the hottest thing in the incredibly shallow dating pool in Eichen House. Still, he hadn’t bloomed until things with Lydia had gone from those isolated kisses that had blown his mind every time to that relationship 13 year old Stiles had always imagined. The others had sowed oats so wild that the rest of them were dragged into all kinds of murder trouble from it, but not him. He’d still had that ‘one day’ mentality like the world was gonna flip again and he’d get his red headed girl, he’d held back. And hey, what did you know, he got the girl … who turned out to have a filthy mind.

His mouth falling open as they dipped back out of the kiss, Stiles scoffed. Oh, hey, no, he wasn’t taking blame for this, even if Lydia’s comment had brought on a whole string of mental images. ”Yeah you,” he snorted, head ticking back and forth. ”You said it, not me. I was being totally innocent here … see!” His brows practically disappeared into his hairline. ”Totally you.” There wasn’t any denying where that heat went though. If Lydia wasn’t careful they’d be meeting the realtor with him still scarlet right up to his eyebrows. Well, if the bed was the number one priority the closet space was definitely a close second. ”Two whole drawers? Wow, now I know you love me.” His grin was wide even if his cheeks were still hot. That love didn’t extend to Roscoe, Lydia was never gonna change her mind there. She’d gotten into the Jeep hadn’t she? And it’d stayed in one piece. Stiles growled low. ”She better not have done.” The threat meant nothing though, Lydia wasn’t that wrong.

If Roscoe held together and everything went well they’d be driving back later with the paperwork all signed on the dotted line. When they moved homework was gonna have to take a back seat for a couple of days. Most of what he had was packed into his half of the dorm room he still shared with Scott but he imagined Lydia had brought way more with her when they’d first moved. Stiles clucked his tongue, his eyes staying on the road as he shook his head, he’d pretended to be scandalised earlier, shocked when Lydia had blown homework off but now? ”Who re you and what did you do with the real Lydia Martin?” It wasn’t entirely a joke, there were plenty of things out there that could take people’s faces, things he wasn’t thinking about today. This was their moon landing, a giant step for Stiles-and-Lydia-kind. A place of their own, no parents, no Ras, no friends – although they were probably more welcome than the rest – busting in on them, breaking things up when night rolled around.

They’d probably get thrown some sort of leaving party, an endless string of them that would end with the housewarming. Lydia was the queen of party planning although Stiles wouldn’t have called himself a complete beginner. ”That’s real trust,” he drawled lightly, affectionately. Any planning he’d end up doing she’d just double check – in case. Lydia would do it again today, anything they went to do here today was gonna be scrutinised by those big green eyes that could go from warm and soft to cool and sharp in a split second. ”She’s gonna love us,” he drawled at Lydia’s response to his nervous blurt of a question. ”Let’s hope this is the only time we have to do this.” Following Lydia’s directions he pulled Roscoe into a space, breathed a sigh of relief as the exhaust didn’t fall off – the doors too, they opened without any trouble, yay, Roscoe.

Stiles rounded the Jeep again, taking Lydia’s hand to work their way towards the place. ”Hi,” Stiles offered warmly, extending his hand to the realtor as they reached her. Seconds later they were inside, his chest going just a little tight as they began to poke around. This was going to be it, maybe, probably – hell, yeah, that closet space was totally gonna sucker Lydia in to saying yes.

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Stiles cleared his throat, trying to will the colour out of his cheeks, but of course Lydia’s laughter had just left it burning longer. He blew out a breath, shaking his head and hoping it would fade by the time they got over to the apartment building. It was easier dividing up the closet space, less embarrassing somehow – chests of drawers not getting him worked up the same way Lydia’s sudden flirty streak had. ”A whole chest huh? Lucky me.” The long whistle he let out cut off in a chuckle. They both knew that half his stuff would end up on the floor, in that scatter his life always seemed to take on, before Lydia forced him to clean up. He was stuck in his ways, holding on to the things he could – including as much ratty flannel and rusting jeep as he could. Stiles shot Lydia a hurt look as he patted the steering wheel lightly. ”Not ever … well, maybe not for a couple of decades, you know …” Not until there was nothing left of Roscoe to patch back together.

Their priorities would eventually shift, school fully giving way to jobs. All the adult stuff that hadn’t come along with the growing up they’d all had to do way too young. There was already responsibility on their shoulders, including passing their classes – failing wasn’t exactly gonna keep up the scholarship that was keeping him in school. One corner of Stiles’ mouth quirked up. ”And there I was thinking you were dedicated. Don’t …” There was a faint cringe to the word as he picturing packing his own up. Leaving Scott on his own was gonna be a wrench, even if was just moving less than a mile away. It was an end of an era they’d been building up towards since they’d been little kids just imagining of some future where they weren’t the outcasts.

They were already way beyond the point they’d planned up to, like they’d blinked and suddenly their whole lives had changed. Stiles shot Lydia a grateful smile and reached over to squeeze her hand before he turned into the lot of the apartment building. ”A long time in the future,” Stiles said on a long breath. They had this hurdle to get over first. He scrambled towards it, almost tripping over his words as he greeted the realtor. That heat was back but at least Lydia was there, cool headed and smart as the realtor returned her smile and led them inside. Stiles dipped his head close to Lydia’s, smacking a kiss on the side of it. ”We ran, then we grab the flame thrower and we get rid of the whole problem.” And the whole building at the rate he usually went.

The realtor had her speech ready, rolling through it in a way that had Stiles’ head spinning. Four hundred, manageable between the two of them as long as like Roscoe didn’t explode next week or something. The security deposit had him rubbing at the back of his neck but Stiles knew they’d manage it. Lydia would even have them going around the place scrubbing the faucets and filling every pin hole in the walls when they finally moved out. The nerves eased as they worked their way around the place at least. It was bigger than he thought they were gonna get in student housing. Only one bathroom, he was gonna have to make do with a couple of inches at the corner of the vanity, less in the walk-in, but would be theirs.

Ignoring the burn of the realtor’s gaze on the back of his neck, Stiles grinned, nodding as Lydia turned back to him. They were lucking out with this place, they both knew it. ”I think …” he dropped his voice, scrunching his shoulders up a little. ”I think we get it. I this this is gonna be our place. We can swing the finances right? My dad said he’d help out with the deposit…” With the cut from Sheriff down to deputy Stilinski he wasn’t gonna be able to do anything about the rent. It was enough though, between the two of them and their jobs, this was possible.

Tagged: LYDIA MARTIN * Word Count: 705

Somehow the nerves here were worse, like the realtor was totally judging whether the two of them screamed ‘reliable renters’. Probably absolutely not, but Lydia had never let something like his kinda embarrassing them stop her. She’d toss back her hair, hit with that charming smile – and give him that verbal little ’not right now, sweetheart’ that’d have him blinking out of whatever rabbit hole he’d just gone down. Although, in his total defence, a flame thrower wasn’t out of the realm of possibility when it came to getting rid of bug problems – after all, nothing was going to survive that thing. Stiles pouted for a second before he snorted. ”Drat, there goes my fun.” A place like this that was kinda glossy on the outside probably wouldn’t have a single roach running around anyway.

That probably meant that the place was way out of their price range. They’d calculated, well Lydia had, working it out down to the last dollar. There was always medical donating if he got super strapped – what was the going rate for plasma these days anyway? The more they’d seen of the place the more certain Stiles was that he was gonna have to start looking for a second job. He wanted the place, for them, no matter what the cost was gonna be before they graduated. His eyes blew wide at the thought, not seeing anything back in the living room except for Lydia as she walked in. It’d be worse then, non-student housing was probably add another zero to the monthly rent and law enforcement didn’t exactly pay the big bucks.

Nerves bit at the pit of his stomach like rabid ferrets, leaving his palm damp as he held his hand out to Lydia. Neither one of their parents was exactly flush either, even if Lydia’s family had made a good show of it while they were back in Mystic Falls. He took Lydia’s other hand, wincing slightly as he realised she’d feel how damp his palms were. ”I’m gonna take your word on that. If the worse comes to the worse we’ve both got a spare kidney to offer up right?” The joke felt tight in his throat, but Lydia’s joke had him letting off a laugh that staved off the panic. ”And your three closets,” he tossed right back. They’d find a way to do it, the same way they had everything else in their friendship, their relationship. A middle ground they were both ecstatically happy with.

That breathless feeling stayed put in Stiles’ chest as they got out their ID and listened to what felt like a thousand rules and regulations that came with the contract. His hands wanted to shake, the pressure on his shoulders a weight that could’ve crushed him, if Lydia wasn’t right there at his side. It was a wonder his signature ended up legible when he scrawled it all down. When he stood the woman’s hand in the end, as they trailed out of their apartment Stiles was pretty sure his palm was still damp.

Outside, with the realtor heading away from them, Stiles bent over, scrubbing his hands against the palms of his jeans before he stayed there – head down, breathing deep so he didn’t faint on his face in the middle of the street. ”Our first home,” Stiles croaked out. ”It’s … I’m feeling a little light headed.” Those amber eyes rolled up to meet hers before he laughed. It was a release of some of that pressure. This was what adults did, they fell in love, they got their first home together, at some point there was a ring and a church and super smart little red headed kids running around. Straightening up, Stiles pulled Lydia into a hug as she rolled the topic slowly around to telling Scott all about this. ”I love you for worrying about that,” he murmured in her ear, before he pressed his lips against her cheek. ”How about we swing by and talk him into getting dinner with us so we can tell him? I think we can probably afford burgers and milkshakes at the Grill.” For now at least. In a couple of months they’d probably be working 23 hours a day and honestly? It would all be worth it.

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