Author's Note: Hey guys so this is a new story that I spontaneously thought up tonight. This is a Stalia story but with the roles reversed. Malia is Scott's trusty sidekick bestfriend who's always been in Beacon Hills, has a crush on Lydia, etc. And Stiles is the werecoyote they find in the woods, related to the Hales, but he will have a bit of a darker undertone to his character than Malia has in the show. Oh and in this story, Allison and Aiden didn't die. I hope you enjoy!
Chapter One: Quiet In My Town
Song Inspiration: Renee By SALES
Today was a different kind of quiet.
The wind whistled through the trees and the hum of passing cars drone on from Malia's spot underneath the willow tree in her front yard. In one hand is her morning coffee: black and bitter with one sugar just the way she like it, and in the other is her worn copy of The Shining with the yellowing pages spilling from the spine. With her pen between her teeth, she pulls off the cap and makes notes at all her favorite parts so she can remember what she had felt like reading it her first, second, third, and every other time after that.
She turns at the sound of her father leaving the driveway to open up the family shop. They owned a private garage just a little ways down that road on land that had been in their family for decades. Henry Tate liked to call it his man cave where he fixes up cars and buys and sells spare parts. But of course he always loves when Malia joins him. She's his girl. After her mother and sister passed away in a hit in run car accident, the two leaned on each other in a way that very few could understand. She loved her dad and seeing him finally content after so many years of pent up frustration and anger at a God who wasn't listening made her realize that family is the most important thing in the world. Malia remembers one night a few months after the accident, she found her father holed up in the garage sulking and drowning himself in a bottle of whiskey, hoping to drown the pain with it. She took away the bottle and helped him onto the makeshift couch in the sitting room and put her wool blanket over his shoulders. He was passed out in minutes. Next she laid out a couple of Advil and a glass of water for the morning and in all that time, all she can seem to think about in that moment was the lone tear that fell down his cheek as he finally got some sleep. The next morning, Mr. Tate had been unusually chipper, given the night before. He may have been piss-poor drunk, but he remembered the look on his baby girl's face and realized that she was suffering too. And from that day forward he vowed to be stronger for her. He couldn't lose Malia too. That's when he began teaching her everything he knew about cars and she became his little protege.
Malia had grown up learning things like how to use a wretch, the most effective ways to hot wire a car in case of emergencies, and the a detailed knowledge of everything underneath the hood of a car. She had always been a fixer. She liked building things and taking them apart, so playing around with cars had always been therapeutic in a way when she'd be dealing with the usual teenage stress.
The blaring of a horn honks and Malia jumps while placing her hand over her heart in surprise. Of course, it's Scott.
She stands up from her place on the grass, grabs her backpack, and jumps on the back of her best friend's motorcycle as he hands her a helmet.
"You look nice today, Malia. What's the occasion? He smirks playfully, an obvious implication in his sickly sweet voice.
"I can't just look nice for myself, huh Scottie boy? She plays dumb, hoping the pink of her cheeks isn't so obvious.
"It wouldn't be because of a certain strawberry blonde, would it?" He asks casually, even though you can hear the amusement laced in his tone.
"What! No way Scott, you know I'm over that silly, little crush. I mean I thought maybe Lydia and I could be more but I just don't know. She kissed me, you know? But it was only to help stop my panic attack. It wasn't romantic... It's just- it's not a big deal, I'm over it."
Scott smiles sadly at his friend, still admittedly struck stupid at how Lydia doesn't see how amazing Malia is. He thinks she probably does, but she just isn't ready to entertain those thoughts yet. Malia has always known she was bi-sexual, even in the third grade when she saw sunshine little Lydia with her head held high and her IQ even higher. She was still the same girl even back then, sassy and confident, and Malia was instantly in love. But as far as Lydia knew, she liked guys, always had. But Scott had never seen Lydia's eyes shine brighter than when Malia walked into the room, which scared her. Scott's hopeless love life made him more observant to his friends and pay more attention to signs. With that in mind, he can confidently say that Lydia doesn't like girls. She likes one girl. The girl. She is the grand exception. Lydia had confessed to him that she's never been attracted to girls sexually or emotionally until Malia. But if she doesn't do something about it, someone else might just capture his best friend's attention.
They pull up to the school and park the bike while grabbing their book bags. Malia hands Scott her helmet that he had bought for her as a birthday present with her name engraved in the back. It was cute and cheesy but Malia had always complained about how she was a fragile little human and needed the same amount of protection as the big, bad True Alpha. It was funny because while she may be human, Malia is anything but fragile. She has a right hook that could knock a guy twice her size out cold and a cool demeanor that intimidated weaker men. She's hard and rough around the edges like brimstone and fire-igniting like gasoline and there is not a single person in the world that will tell you different. It does help though that she's hot as hell with a sailor's mouth to match, all wrapped up in long dark lashes that fall against dewy sienna eyes and a pretty pink mouth.
For her, school is the epitome of Hell and she's convinced that their algebra teacher is the Devil incarnate.
"Scott, do we have to go? You know that woman hates me. She will literally call on me when she knows that I don't know the answer and any other student will have their hand raised, yet I'm always her preferred victim of choice." Malia pouts as her combat boots squeak against the tile floor, each step closer to their dreaded math class.
"Maybe she is being mean to you because she likes you. Ya know, playing on the whole 2nd grade approach. Or hey, maybe she thinks you're capable of so much better and she's going to force it out of you some way or another." Scott grins, not even believing what he's saying.
She snorts. "Or she's just a bitch."
"I guess it could be that." Scott laughs, putting his arm around her shoulders and directs her through the door when she begins to walk past it.
"Ugh I hate you."
"Translation: I love you Scott and thank you for being such a good friend and caring about my future." He mocks her while mussing her hair affectionately.
"Whatever" Malia grumbles and takes her seat in the very back of the room where hopefully the teacher won't notice her.
The clock on the wall ticks by slowly, second by second. With a groan, Malia sticks her earphones in and places her hoodie over her head while sinking down in her seat. Before she knows it, class is over and she's up out the door, but she can hear Scott's footsteps behind her. They make their way to the lunchroom and take a seat next to Lydia, Isaac, Allison, The twins, and Kira.
Lydia tenses up when Malia sits down, something that the brunette girl doesn't notice, but is very evident to Scott and he can't help but smirk. However, she ignores his friend and acts like she didn't even notice that she had walked in. Scott can see the frown that forms on Malia's face and instantly feels the need to pull her protectively into his arms. She deserves better than to be treated like less than a person, and maybe one day Malia will find someone, fall pathetically in love, and realize that none of the people she thought mattered ever really did. Don't get him wrong, Scott likes Lydia. She's one of his best friends and they take care of each other, but Malia is like his sister. He'll always have her back first and foremost.
Malia self-consciously fiddles with a piece of her wavy, medium length, brown hair and sneaks peeks at Lydia out of the corner of her eye when she thinks no one is looking. The group watches on in pity. They're a pack and there's not really any secrets left unsaid between everyone. So therefore, everyone is thoroughly aware of Malia's lingering feelings towards Lydia and can't quite ignore the way the strawberry blonde constantly brushes her off. The silence is suffocating to a point that it's incredibly uncomfortable. Everyone knows about the kiss and no one is willing to talk about it at the risk of receiving a severe tongue-lashing from Lydia.
Breaking the tension, Scott announces that there will be a pack meeting tonight so they can plan on how to capture the coyote that's been running around the outback woods of Beacon Hills. They believe that the animal may in fact be the Sheriff's son, Stiles Stilinski, who has been missing for the past eight years. There has been plenty of crazy animal attacks that haven't been adding up lately and John Stilinski thinks that it is the coyote that is ripping people apart. They've been working with him to try and figure out more about it without tipping him off that it may in fact be his boy. They're going out tonight during the full moon to look for him.
"Scott, do you really think we should be doing this? How do we even know if this is really that Stiles kid anyways? And what if we can't change him back? We can't save everyone." Malia sighs, turning to her alpha after going over the plan in more detail.
"Malia, we have to try. We can't just give up on people." He tries to explain to her, reaching out and grabbing her hand.
Lydia rolls her eyes and decides to butt in.
"Yeah Mal, we didn't just believe that all hope was lost when the Nogitsune took over your mind. You should understand more than anyone why we have to help."Lydia says, finally looking at Malia for the first time since they had entered the cafeteria.
"Well why not, Lydia? You know all about ignoring your problems and giving up on people." Malia scoffs, her words taking on a double meaning as the table gets quiet. Lydia looks shocked and glances down at her hands ashamed, more quiet than anyone has ever seen her. No one has ever been able to leave Lydia Martin speechless and at a complete loss of words except for Malia. When she doesn't say anything to defend herself Malia gets up from the table with a scoff and walks out of the cafeteria.
The strings of sanity holding her together unravel before her and Malia is tripping over her guilt. You know that feeling of wholeness that you get when everything seems to be falling right into place and then all of a sudden the illusion you've been trying so hard to hold onto is sucked away? That's what she is feeling right now, simply being- just a disembodied mass no longer bound by blood and flesh. And now she is floating someplace far away from here, like a black hole ripped through her little world she had built in her head and suddenly she's free falling.
She hates when someone brings up what had happened those few months ago because it reminds her that there will always be that one single thing that she can never change about herself. In a time not too long ago, Malia had blissfully and albeit miserably thought she was simply as human as they came. She couldn't hear voices in her head or conjure up a scream that could shatter skulls, grow a pair of claws or tap into unimaginable strength. She had always been the one who would figure things out, the detective behind the operation, if you will. But then one ice bath and sacrifice later, a hollowing darkness crept into her heart that would never fully go away. Her, Scott, and Allison did it to save their parents, and doing that led to Malia unleashing a part of herself that still left permanent imprints in her skin.
When the Nogitsune took over, everything was in startling clarity. She had looked down at the death and destruction like seeing it all happen through a microscope. The others had been so far away in a place that her mind wouldn't allow her to follow, a prisoner in her own head. She remembers every kill... Recites their names before she goes to sleep every night. She feels their blood underneath her fingernails and then when she walks home at night she swears she catches a glimpse of the fireflies that carried her secrets. But when she blinks they are gone. Allison almost died that day, cut open by a sword that was under her command. Sure it wasn't really her that gave the order, but it was her hands and her face and her body that slaughtered the town she loves.
It's not easy living with that, knowing that everyone looks at you differently, even if they don't mean to. But she feels that, the weariness in her packs eyes when her back is turned.
Malia decides to walk home to clear her head. Her feet drag against the pavement and she hears a car tailing her. She stops in her tracks and the car stops as well. And she should of known who it was in the first place. Because of course, in the end, why wouldn't it be Lydia?
"Can we talk?" She pleads, turning off the car and pushing the passenger door open with her designer shoe.
"About what, Lydia?" Malia asks with a sigh, running her fingers through her mess of hair and pulling at it to calm her nerves.
"Please, just get in, Mal." She says gently, gesturing towards the seat.
With a huff, Malia gives in and closes the door behind her loudly, hoping Lydia realizes that what she said really hurt her and struck one too many nerves.
They sit in silence for a while as they maneuver through dirt roads and canopied trees that lead to her house. Malia nervously taps on her jean-clad thigh with her fingernails and tries her best to look anywhere but Lydia because she knows that if she does she'll find her lips. And Lydia has the prettiest lips: big, full, and cherry red. Just the thought makes Malia shift uncomfortably in her seat.
Out of nowhere Lydia stops the car about a mile from Malia's house. She doesn't say a word and Malia looks over at her curiously, wondering why they had stopped moving.
Then she blurts, "Look Malia, I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I know that's a sensitive subject for you and I should have thought before I opened my mouth. I'm just really sorry. I know you probably think I'm a stone-cold bitch and that I've been mean to you lately. I think you know why. I just-I can't be who you want me to be right now, okay? Do you get what I'm saying?" The red hair looks at her searchingly, hoping to find the answer she was looking for in Malia's eyes without having to spell it out.
"Yeah, I know. I think I've always known, I just didn't know how to let you go, Lydia. But I think maybe now I can."
"Malia- I- I don't want to stop being friends."
Malia chuckles bleakly. "Friends. Who knew one word could be the harborer of so much disappointment. She smiles weakly, but tries to look okay. "I don't want you to feel bad, Lydia. You shouldn't feel obligated to have the same feelings I do. Don't worry, we're still going to be friends. There's more fish in the sea. You aren't the only ridiculously sexy red head at this school, you know." Malia winks and chuckles at her joke.
Lydia giggles lightly and grabs her hand, running her pale fingers over Malia's tan knuckles.
"I care about you, you know I do, right?" She squeezes her hand tighter and stares at her for a beat longer, hoping Malia can read between the lines and hear the silent "Not yet, not now... Maybe never, but maybe someday" tacked on at the end of her sentiment. "You can do better than me, anyways. And don't take that faintly, I don't just say that to anyone, Tate." Lydia jokes and nudges Malia's shoulder playfully.
Malia grins in her direction and simply admires the way her long red hair falls perfectly curled down her shoulders and her porcelain skin that resembles peaches and cream. Lydia is so beautiful that it almost hurts and Malia wishes she'd let her show her how good she could be for her. Without another thought, she moves her hand from Lydia's grasp while getting out of the car to walk the rest of the way to her house.
"I'll see you tonight, Lydia."
"See you, Mal."
With one last lingering look, Lydia drives away leaving dust and broken hearts in her wake.
The pack gathers in the corner of the woods around midnight. The skies bleed black and an unnatural chill interweaves between the trees. The woods seem larger than life and imposing in the way the darkness seems to give the place power. They split up into groups to search: Scott and Malia, Lydia and Aiden, Allison and Isaac, and Kira and Ethan. They agree to meet back up in the same spot in an hour whether they find Stiles or not.
Scott and Malia take off in a flurry, with him carrying her on his back so they can cover more ground faster. Malia bites back her remarks on how she is more than capable of keeping up with him on her own and how the idea of him having to hold her bruises her ego. Scott catches the coyotes scent and takes off in a dead sprint and Malia secures her hold around his neck so she doesn't fall off. However, she swears she's experiencing some sort of whiplash with the way her head is swinging around furiously with the rapid movement.
"There he is!" Scott growls, placing Malia on the ground and taking off after Stiles.
"Scott, wait!" She yells, but it's too late, he's already gone. "What an asshole." She mumbles trying to follow the path that he had taken. Soon enough, she hears the sounds of scratching, howling, and growling that sounds anything but friendly. Stiles must not like us encroaching onto his territory.
Malia stumbles through the overgrown underbrush and witnesses Scott losing the upper hand as he collides to the ground with a sickening crunch. He howls in pain.
"Scott!"
The coyote is about to pounce when adrenaline takes over and Malia lunges in front of Scott, stretching her arms out in a protective motion over him. She knew that life would have no meaning anymore if something happened to Scott. He's the one thing in her life that makes sense. And if that means dying in the place of someone she loves, she's okay with that.
"Malia, no, what are you doing! Get out of the way!" Scott roars, struggling to get up and push her out of the way to what could be a fatal end to someone as human as she is.
The coyote is in mid-spring, but suddenly he stops, falling back on his hind legs.
Malia is breathless, shaking in fear like a quivering leaf. She looks back at the coyote and his head is tilted slightly with his ears perked up. And he's just staring at her. His fur is an ashy black and his eyes burn an airy blue. Malia simply catches her breath and takes in the magnificence of them. She had seen pretty eyes before, whether it be the warm brown of Scott's human eyes, the brilliant red of his Alpha eyes or the gilded topaz of Isaac's Beta eyes, but never has Malia thought it was humanly possible for a pair of irises to hold an ocean inside them.
"Stiles" She breathes out, his name already lost in the wind that now brushes his face.
As soon as she says it, he begins to transform right before her eyes.
Fur turns to flesh and his body is made up of pale skin and a mop of brown hair that is almost inky black in the shadows that are cast upon his face. Moles litter his skin like a map of stars and Malia wants to reach out and find the path of constellations on his skin. His cheeks are flushed a rosy pink and low and behold, he's as naked as the day he was born. And then he looks up at her like he's seen a ghost and there is no more blue, but something even more beautiful. His eyes are haunting and lost but shine like crystallized amber and they remind her of cinnamon and honey dew. He's human again.
He's shivering from the cold and still staring at her with something that resembles awe and something else that she can't place. His hair is wild and dirty with leaves and sweat, and his lean muscles flex deliciously underneath his near translucent skin. Prominent veins run down the back of his hands that are now reaching out towards her.
"You." He murmurs softly. His voice is scratchy and carries a timber that is low and gruff from going so long without having to speak. "You brought me back."
Author's Note: Any good? Do y'all like the idea? Let me know your thoughts. Reviews are appreciated and always welcome!