"Did you end up buying the sugar?" Stiles calls from the kitchen, cabinet doors slamming one after another. "I've been asking you for a week!"
Malia stretches out her arms, yawns. She had accidentally fallen asleep on the couch and Stiles' racket startled her.
"What sugar?" she asks innocently.
"For god's sake," he groans. "Sometimes I feel like I'm the responsible one in this household."
She tiptoes into the kitchen unnoticed, whispers, "That's because you are," from behind him. Her hot breath on the back of his neck sends a pleasant shiver down his spine.
But before she can trap him in her embrace, he whips around. Years of battling supernatural creatures left Stiles with a quick reaction to well…practically anything.
Including a feisty girlfriend.
"No, but seriously," he says, arms crossed and face warped in an expression of disappointment. He's standing his ground this time. "We're partners, and we each gotta put our share of-"
Malia pouts, her brown eyes boring into him the way they always do when he's trying to scold her. She's playing it up, of course, acting sweet and innocent and Stiles wishes her charm didn't work such magic on him, but it does. He leans back into the counter, runs a hand through his hair.
"Why would we need sugar," Malia says teasingly, "when I'm already so sweet?"
Stiles holds his breath as she approaches him, eyes locked with his, lips slightly parted. She has stopped acting now, her fake innocent persona replaced with the rawness that only real Malia can exert. She stands in between his legs, so close that Stiles can hear her heartbeat, loud and erratic. But she's waiting, not touching, not kissing. And Stiles can barely stand not kissing her right now.
So he leans in an inch, not bothering to start the kiss off lightly. They're both far beyond that, lips colliding with such intensity it hurts, tongues exploring the hollows of their mouths, teeth grazing. Stiles' arms wrap themselves around her waist; pull her in as close against him as it's physically possible. He can feel her heart beat even faster now, aroused at the thought that it beats like that for him.
"Stiles," she murmurs in between kisses, her hands on either sides of his head, fingers entwined in his hair. "My phone."
Stiles sighs into her mouth, "What?"
She pulls away. "My phone is vibrating, upstairs."
"No," He groans. "Oh come on, it's probably nothing."
Malia chuckles, forces herself out of his grasp and sprints up the stairs, her hair disheveled from their moment.
Stiles lets out a dissatisfied sigh. They've been together for almost six years now, living in this house for almost two, and yet it feels like no time has passed since the beginnings of their relationship. She makes is so difficult sometimes, but there's so much to her. So much that has been restrained, controlled by her and by other people. Yet there are glimpses, when he's lucky, of that unrestrained wilderness. And that in itself is worth living for.
He walks towards the living room, throws himself onto the couch, positive that the moment is bound to have no continuation. And he's right, because moments later, Malia descends the stairs with a scowl on her face.
He strains to look up at her. "Who was it?"
"Kira and Scott are getting married." She says.
"Whoa," he says, pretending to be surprised. Scott had told him about his intentions, but he was to keep it on the down low. In case Malia told Kira before it was time. Truth is, Stiles had forgotten about it almost completely until now.
Malia grimaces. "Right."
"And you're annoyed why?"
She lets out an exasperated sigh, "I'm not annoyed."
"Uh, pretty sure these are all sighs of annoyance." Stiles says, pointing to her sour face expression and crossed arms. She looks away pointedly. "Trust me, I'm a private detective."
"Fine," she says, giving up. "We're invited."
He snorts. "Well I'd hope we're invited. How many times did I end up saving Scott's ass? Can't say the same for Kira, but-"
"There's more." Malia groans. "Kira wants me to be her bridesmaid."
"That's it?" Stiles says. "I've begun to assume that all bad news are accompanied by supernatural creatures from the depth of the underworld."
"Thanks." Malia says, crossing her arms even higher up her chest, as though to make a point.
He walks up behind her, puts his hands on her shoulders and kneads. "Hey, it's gonna be fine. Our best friends are getting married."
Malia moans as his hands relieve some of her bottled up stress. "I know I should be happy," she says. "but I'm not."
He pulls her hair away from her neck, leans in to place a lingering kiss. She eases into him, cocks her head to give him more access.
"You still have a chance at happiness tonight," he whispers. "But tomorrow, you're buying sugar."
"Anything you want," Malia mutters, her breathing heavy. "Anything for you, Stiles."
When she gives into him, so easy and unquestioning, Stiles can barely contain himself. Malia has always been loyal, but she's a free spirit, and she does what she wants.
And tonight, she wants him.
A/N: Ah, nothing like a new season to get the creative juices flowing. I'm trying my hand at a multi-chaptered fic this time, so bear with me. As always, leave a review if you enjoyed reading. It always puts a smile on my face.
