Summary: Lydia breaks her ankle and Stiles takes care of her.
Author's note: Written for stydia-fanfiction on tumblr for the prompt: "Lydia has a broken leg/ankle and Stiles takes care of her, a bit of angst but mostly fluff and comfort :)"
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"I can't believe you're mad at me. I'm the one who got hurt," Lydia lets out exasperatedly, trying to get Stiles to talk because he's been in a mood all day.
It has been a long day, though. Lydia will give him that.
"And that's exactly why I'm mad at you. What were you thinking?" he spats out, opening her front door and waiting until Lydia makes her way through with the crutches she'll just have to get used to for now.
The banshee doesn't seem fazed by his irritated tone. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe saving your life..." she remarks sarcastically.
Even though it's not his house, Stiles closes the front door with a loud thump but he just doesn't have it in him to really care about it at the moment. "Did I asked you to? Look what happened," he mutters, pointing at her ankle in a cast as if that will make his point any more valid.
"You don't have to ask me to risk my life for you, Stiles. I will and that's it."
It's the one point they just can't agree on ever since they started dating two months ago.
Stiles groans, upset. "Not if it hurts you."
Lydia rolls her eyes at him and turns around, slowly making her way upstairs to her bedroom with Stiles in tow. "If I hadn't pushed you out of the way, then you would have gotten hurt."
"I'd rather die than have you getting hurt," he tells her nonchalantly. "You know that. We've been through this before."
Lydia huffs and stops, taking a deep breath before continuing. She should have known that dating someone who's just as stubborn as she is wasn't that good of an idea. "Well, the feeling is mutual, thus why I got you out of the way."
Stiles is restless, she can tell, because he's worried about her, so when he tries to fix the cushions on her bed so that she can sit comfortably, they keep falling to the ground and Stiles curses, frustrated.
Thinking that maybe she's being too harsh on his natural obstinacy when he does have a point, Lydia reaches out and takes his hand, trying to soothe him. "Stiles, I'm okay."
He sighs sadly, running his free hand through his hair and messing it up. "There was blood, Lydia. Tons of blood and I didn't know how hurt you were, or if it was just your foot, and you were unconscious there for a second because you hit your head too, so I think it's understandable that I'm worried, alright?"
Lydia purses her lips and nods in understanding. "I know. And I'm sorry, okay?" she lets out as he helps her sit on the mattress and put her ankle up on a cushion so that she can rest properly. "But had it been the other way around, you wouldn't have hesitated in getting me out of the way either, would you? You can't tell me you would have."
It had cut his holidays short.
The Sheriff had taken Stiles away for a couple of weeks of fishing, camping and just father-son bonding during summer before his spazz of a son gets on his way to college, but of course something had to happen. A threat had appeared and the pack needed Stiles back, so the Stilinskis returned a day before they had to, which wasn't all that bad.
