Nature and Nurture: Finding the Perfect Blend

Chapter 8: The Confession

Someone was moving around in his room. A cool hand brushed over his head.

"Stiles?"

"Lydia?" he mumbled. "What?" He opened his eyes to find her peering down at him.

"You're dad was worried. He left the spare key for me."

"Urrghhh." Stiles hid his face. "Nothing's up, Lyds. You can go now."

"I don't think so. How about you sit up so I know you're not sleeping, and we'll have a long overdue talk."

"All everybody wants to do recently is talk," he moaned. At Lydia's insistent look, he pushed the blankets back, slowly sat up and leaned back against the bedhead, still heavy with sleep. "Better?"

"Yes. Slightly."

Lydia sat on the bed and hung her legs over the side. She rested on her hip, one hand out to steady herself. It didn't look all that comfortable to Stiles, but he guessed she had to make compromises while wearing a tiny little floral skirt. Considering the weather was only just going into spring, Stiles was curious how Lydia wasn't feeling the cold. Maybe she considered sacrifices for fashion were that important. He certainly didn't. Give him comfort clothes any day.

"Have you been sleeping well recently?" Lydia asked him.

"I don't know, about as well as I normally do."

"So, not well."

"Lydia —"

"I'm trying to determine the reason for you sleeping more than nineteen hours straight. I can keep assuming, or you can tell me why." Lydia had innocent eyes that did nothing to disguise her determination.

Stiles narrowed his own eyes at her and blew out an annoyed breath.

Lydia raised her eyebrows, waiting. "You can tell me anything, Stiles."

"I know."

"So tell me. I'll help, you know I will. Why have you been hibernating like a bear?" She screwed up her nose and glanced around his room.

"Did you know bears actually wake up during hibernation? They aren't always sleeping the entire time."

"Stiles."

He made a frustrated and put-upon sound. "I don't know! I guess sleeping is easier than dealing."

Lydia nodded a little. "You have a heap of stuff to deal with. I get it. Actually, I wasn't surprised when your dad called and told me. Retreating is really common with PTSD."

"Yeah, I know the signs."

"Of course. The Nogitsune."

"Yep."

"You didn't even flinch when I said it. That's better than you were."

Stiles grunted. "Not my biggest concern right now."

"What is?" Lydia got up off his bed in a move that was smoother than Stiles would have thought possible, but well, it was Lydia. She stood at the window nearest the bed. "Okay if I?" She motioned to the shades which were still down. Stiles made a have-at-it motion and she pulled the cord and opened the window to let the air in. She breathed out and waved her hands. "That's better!"

"Are you saying my room smells?"

"I didn't say the words, but that's what my actions are implying. Your room is a den of man odor." Lydia opened the desk window next and the air circulated through the room. She sat back down on his bed. "So, what's the biggest concern?"

Stiles snorted. "I have more than one. They're all huge."

"Name one."

"We really doing this?" Stiles bent his legs up and hung his hands between his knees.