A/N: Another Stalia one-shot to celebrate the end of finals! Woohoo! Happy reading and leave me a review if you dig it!

Malia clutches Stiles' hand as they walk through the halls at school. He looks at her mannerisms, assesses whether she's stressed or worried or scared, but she displays no symptoms, grinning as all the eyes turn towards her. It's as though by holding Stiles' hand she's establishing him as her own. And he's not sure whether he's really that against it.

"That's you," Stiles says, pointing at the door of the History classroom, waiting for her to unwrap her fingers from his and walk inside. But she doesn't.

"I'll see you later okay?" Malia says before pressing her lips against his in a quick kiss. He's taken by surprise, a good surprise.

"Uh yeah, lunch in the cafeteria with the gang."

She nods, smiles and walks inside with a confidence Stiles can only admire. He takes a deep breath, still in amazement from their kiss.

"Move," someone says, pushing past Stiles, and he realizes that he's still standing in front of the door.

With hands in his pockets and a huge grin on his face, he walks away.

At lunchtime, he joins Scott, Lydia and Kira in the cafeteria. Taking a bite of his ripe apple, he watches the door. It's been almost fifteen minutes, and Malia hasn't joined them yet.

"Don't even talk about it," Scott is saying in the background. "I might lose control and wolf out."

Stiles turns in his seat to face Scott. "The full moon's tonight!" He says with wide eyes.

"Yeah man," Scott says, grimacing as though that's the most obvious thing in the world. "You're usually on top of this."

Stiles runs his hands through his hair, rubs his neck with anxiety and anger. "I've been distracted,"

Scott's kneaded his eyebrows relax. "Malia," he says.

"Yeah dude, Malia." Stiles says. "The full moon. Remember what happened last time?"

He's out from the chair in that second, running towards the exit without a real plan or a real understanding of what might happen to him. Or what has already happened to her.

"Stiles, I don't sense any danger," Lydia says through deep breaths. "She's probably fine, at least right now."

"You don't know that,"

"Well actually I do," she insists but Scott tightens his lips as though to say "Drop it, he's delusional." She rolls her eyes instinctively.

They hurry through the halls, Stiles calling out her name, checking his phone to see whether she replied to his messages.

But they find nothing.

"Okay, maybe she met some people and decided to have lunch with them," Lydia says as they stop to take a breather.

"She'd tell me," Stiles says.

"What makes you so sure?" she says. "Malia has a mind of her own."

Stiles bites his lip. The phone, still in his hand, buzzes.

Malia is shifting. Had to get her out of class.

It's from Derek.

"She's shifting," Stiles says. "I knew it."

They make their way to Derek's loft, crammed in his Jeep, the sky grey with rain rainclouds but the air humid.

"Where is she?" Stiles says as they walk through the door. "Derek?"

"What?" He says, retreating from the darkness in the loft. "Why are you all here?"

"Because you have Malia?" Scott interjects. "Because she's not at school?"

Derek exhales dramatically and leads them towards the darkness. "You're all a bunch of lunatics."

Malia sits in the corner, her face resting on the windowsill, staring into the grey sky. She's chained to the heater, which makes a rattling sound with each swell of her chest.

"Your friends are here to see you," Derek says dryly and she slowly faces them. Faces Stiles. Her eyes are bloodshot and scared.

"Are you okay?" Stiles says, kneeling down to her. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm fine," she says simply, unable to look him in the eye as he strokes her hair. "You should go. Derek is going to look after me."

Stiles whips his head back to look at Derek, still standing with his arms crossed, face blank.

"What did you tell her?"

"She's dangerous," Derek says. "I don't need to tell you that." His eyebrow rises as though to hint at the fact that she killed her mother and sister while transforming once.

"This is different," Stiles says, looking at Scott for support, but he tightens his lips, unsure of where his loyalty lies.

"She hasn't learned to control it yet," Scott says. "Perhaps it's better if there's nothing to distract her from learning."

"Dude," Stiles says. "Are you implying that I'm going to distract her?"

"Yes." Derek says plainly.

"Stiles, please." Malia whispers, her hands trembling, nails growing into claws. Her eyes glow bright blue, fangs retract. She thrashes against the chains. "Just leave!"

Stiles watches her struggling to shift, eyes switching between coyote and human, claws digging into her hands.

Derek growls audibly. "You're distracting the whole process. Do her a favor and leave."

Scott grasps Stiles' shoulder, drags him back. "She'll be fine," he says. "You've seen this before."

Stiles takes backward steps until the door is slammed in his face. He lowers his head.

"Hey," Lydia says reassuringly, "I don't sense any impending doom."

"Yet," Stiles breathes, walking away, hands in his pockets.

Scott cancels his plans with Kira that night. He's lying on Stiles' bed, his eyes following his best friend pacing back and forth in the room.

"Can you chill?" he says.

"No dude," Stiles says, rubbing his face. "I'm freaking out."

"Okay I get it." Scott says. "You're totally in love with her and you're freaking out because she's hurting. But she needs to learn so that she doesn't want to kill you every time the moon comes up."

"She wouldn't kill me," Stiles says and Scott responds with a snort.

"Right, because she didn't kill her freaking family."

"Why does everyone have to go there?"

"Because it's important." Scott says. "Derek is training her so this doesn't happen again. He knows what he's doing."

"Does he?" Stiles says, throwing himself in the chair. "Does he really? Because I don't trust him."

"Well I do."

Stiles glares.

He's woken up by a loud crash in the room, his window broken through, glass shards scattered all over his bed and floor.

"What the fuck?" He says, patting around the nightstand to find his phone. Something pounces on his legs, agile and strong, growling. Piercing blue eyes in the darkness of the night.

"Malia?" he breathes, terrified. She snarls, teeth white and pointed, approaching his face.

He reaches out a shaky hand to cup her face. A growl hitches in her throat. She trembles and whimpers, fangs retracting, eyes fading.

Malia collapses on top of Stiles, her breathing heavy and irregular. He runs his hand through her hair, pulls her towards him.

"Stiles?" she breathes.

"It's okay, I'm here," he says. "You're safe."

Her head rises abruptly. "I got out. Oh no," she says. "You're, oh god, I was going to hurt you."

"No," Stiles breathes. "You came here for comfort."

"What?"

"You turned back when I touched you." He smiles. "I'm your anchor."

Malia's eyes narrow and she glances out the window at the moon, full and bright.

Stiles sits up. "Allison helped Scott control the shift. He was in love with her. She was his anchor."

Malia pushes strands of hair behind her ear, smiles. "You're implying that I'm in love with you?"

Stiles scoffs, looks away.

Her hands slide up his chest, up his neck. He feels her weight shift from his legs when she presses her lips to his cheek. Pulls his face towards hers and kisses him on the mouth. It's a slow kiss, but Stiles can feel the fire igniting in-between their lips. His hands caress her shoulders, tense with anxiety.

She pulls away, too soon. Turns her head to the door.

"Derek's here."

"I'm not even going to ask," Derek says, appearing through it with his usual mystique.

"I think I figured something out," Malia says, eyes shifting from Derek's face to the moon, to Stiles.

He waits for her to say it, but she seems suddenly smitten, so he says it instead. "I'm her anchor."

Derek snorts, looks through the window to the moon. His eyes flash bright blue for a moment.

"I know." He says.

Stiles' mouth falls open. "Why did you make me leave then? I could have helped!"

"You can't rely on someone else for control." Derek says. "One fight and you're back to nothing. It's gotta come from the inside."

Stiles frowns, toying with a strand of Malia's hair. He doesn't want to admit it, but Derek is right. It's never good to rely on someone, especially a human. How many times has he come close to death? How many times still await him?

"I'm bringing you back," Derek says to Malia. "Next time try not to break any windows."

She smiles, climbing off of Stiles' bed, still shaky. Before walking through the door, she runs back to him, presses her lips against his, lingers just a little bit too long. Derek clears his throat dramatically.

The full moon comes and goes, and in the morning Stiles is in the process of pulling on a shirt when there's a rapping on the window. He unlocks it, used to various supernatural beings trying to get through. Plus, he has a good feeling about this one.

"You fixed the window," she says, smiling at him.

"Yeah," Stiles says, locking it again. "Don't want to make it too easy for someone to get in."

She cocks her head, approaches him. Wraps her hands around his neck. "I know how to pick locks, remember?" Her lips hover just above his, teasing.

Stiles grins, "Well maybe I wasn't talking about you."

Malia's lips form a perfect circle. "Oh really," she says, her hot breath hitting his mouth. He waits a moment before crashing into her lips.

"Mmm," she exhales into his mouth, her hands playing with the hem of his t-shirt until Stiles pulls away from her lips just long enough to pull it off. Malia's nails lightly scrape at his back, causing his skin to shiver with arousal. She takes her sweatshirt off in one swift motion, soft, smooth flesh under his fingertips.

"Don't we have class?" Stiles says as she pulls him onto the bed with a thud.

"A class in love-making maybe."

He bursts out laughing, her lips trailing from his mouth to his jaw and ear.

Perhaps he is being too loud, or perhaps his father has been suspicious of his story about the broken in window a couple of nights ago.

The door flings open without a knock.

"Not today." It's Sheriff Stilinski, a cup of coffee in one hand, the other on his hip.

Malia pulls the sheets to her chest, her face red with embarrassment. Stiles' mouth hangs open.

"Dad!?"

"I know a thing or two about love," he says. "but I also know that there will be time for this after class."

"Mr. Stilinski, I'm so sorry." Malia says, somewhat uncharacteristically.

The sheriff looks at her with a twinkle in his eye. "At least now I know who to charge for the window damages." He says, taking a sip of his coffee.

"And Stiles, we're going to have a talk."

As he disappears down the staircase, Malia climbs off the petrified Stiles and pulls on her shirt.

"Dude," he says, "We're in such trouble."

Malia chuckles. "If there has to be trouble, it better be over you."

"Hey," Stiles says, pulling her back on the bed by the arm. She falls, her hair spreading out like a halo around her head. He bends over, kisses her. "I'll drive us to school."

"I was hoping to be doing some other learning," she says, frowning.

Stiles kisses down her neck, on her collarbone. "I'll tutor you after school, promise."

She exhales, content.