A/N: This story takes place after the events of season 3B, set during the summer before their senior year. It sticks mostly to canon events, except that Allison is still alive (I just didn't have the heart to kill her in my first Teen Wolf fic) and Isaac is still there too. And of course Malia's story will be a very different from what we know so far about season 4. I also kind of blatantly ignore the whole "Malia is Peter's daughter" thing here because I'd rather see how the show handles it and focus instead on the story I want to tell.
And now that you're all caught up, I hope you like this!
"Are we sure Malia's actually here?" Stiles asked as he and Scott walked through one of the many wooded areas of Beacon Hills.
"Isaac was sure he heard her howling in these woods last night. He said she sounded weird, like sad or something."
"Why would she be sad? She wanted to be a coyote again and now she is. Has been for months now."
Stiles couldn't help the small amount of bitterness present in his voice. Just a few days after the Nogitsune had finally been taken care of, Malia returned to collect on Stiles's promise. He took her to Scott, who taught her how to shift back and forth at will in only two weeks. In that amount of time, Stiles and Malia had gotten to know each other a little bit better as well.
"Stiles," she'd sighed with pleasure as he left a trail of kisses down her neck, "we aren't going to have sex again."
"Okay." He hooked a finger in the neck of her T-shirt and pulled it down. As his mouth met the space between her breasts, she let out a frustrated growl and yanked him up by his ears.
"Oh my G –"
"I mean it, Stilinski! What happened at Eichen House, it was a onetime thing, all right? It was a heat of the moment, you about to be repossessed by an evil fox spirit, bizarre rite of passage . . . thing."
"Wow. That was really specific."
"Can you be serious for a second? We barely know each other, and I just think we could get to know each other in more . . . non-naked ways."
"I'll be honest, that doesn't sound nearly as fun to me." When she scoffed and pushed him off of her, his expression finally turned serious. "Okay, okay, you're right. We rushed it. So if you're not ready to do it again, we won't."
"Good," she smiled, running a hand through his hair before letting it settle on the nape of his neck. "I knew there was a reason I mildly tolerated you."
"Yeah, so . . . we're still gonna make out though, right?"
"Obviously." She brought his mouth down to hers, kissing him hard. They sank deeper into his bed, pulling the sheet over them as they laughed.
They'd done more than just fool around in their short time together. She opened up a bit more about her family, sharing good memories as well as sad ones. He told her about how much his life had changed ever since werewolves had entered the picture. In moments of sudden sadness or guilt, he even brought up the Nogitsune a time or two, completely unprompted by her. They were forming a tentative friendship, albeit a friendship that also included many physical benefits.
Neither one of them tried to define what they were doing. All Stiles knew was that he liked her. She was beautiful and tough and had a dark sense of humor that he really appreciated. All Malia knew was that she liked him too. He was kind of cute and nervous, with a smart mouth and nice hands. Neither one of them was falling in love. His heart still belonged to Lydia, of course, and hers belonged to the woods she'd called her home for so many years. Despite that, anyone could see the two had a comfortableness and undeniable chemistry between them. Stiles had hoped that would be enough to get her to stay.
It wasn't. Even though she had managed to become friendly with everyone in Scott's pack, she still didn't want to be human. Unfortunately, Stiles knew a thing or two about guilt now, and he knew hers was still eating away at her. He tried to convince her that he and the rest of the pack would help her with the adjustment. He and the others took her under their wing and reminded her of all the wonderful things about being human she would miss. Even though she was having fun, and even enjoying all of the new people in her life, it still didn't matter in the end.
Once Malia was absolutely sure she could properly control the shift, she returned to the woods that would soon be her home again and said her goodbyes to everyone there. She saved her goodbye with Stiles for last, after everyone else had retreated to give them a moment alone. He opened his mouth, but she stopped him with a kiss. The kiss was soft and sweet, devoid of their usual passion.
Stiles was the one who eventually broke the kiss. "You know, if you stayed human, we could do this all the time."
"I thought you were trying to convince me to stay."
His mouth quirked in the corner despite himself, but his expression was soon somber again. "Don't you want to see what this could be?"
"Stiles, I already know what this is. We're a distraction for each other."
He hoped his face didn't show how much that stung."How's that?"
"You're a distraction by helping me forget for a little while that I don't belong in this place anymore, in this body. And . . . and I'm the perfect distraction for you not being able to be with the girl you're really in love with."
He looked away, unable to deny it. He nodded, begrudgingly accepting her choice. "So you're really doing this."
"I'm really doing this." Malia gave him one last kiss on the cheek. "Goodbye Stiles."
He didn't say it back. Instead, he turned around and walked away once she kicked off her shoes and started to take off her shirt. He didn't want to see it. But once he was sure she had made the shift, he looked back just in time to see a coyote running off into the distance.
That had been almost eight months ago. Nobody had seen or heard from her since that day, not even a howl in the distance on a full moon. And now that Isaac had heard some mournful cry in the woods, they were supposed to investigate? Stiles had spent months worrying about her, but once it truly became apparent that she wasn't coming back, he'd done his best to let her go. All he could feel for her now was the disappointment of a lost opportunity.
Stiles wiped away the sweat that was running into his eyes. Walking around in the woods in late June wasn't exactly his idea of a fun time. "Come on, we've been following her trail for a couple of hours now. She clearly doesn't want to be found. And this is not how I wanted to spend a Saturday."
Scott, always earnest, said, "But what if she needs our help?"
"She never wanted our help to begin with, Scott."
He nodded, looking slightly guilty. "We'll just check up on her. If she's fine, then we'll leave her alone."
Twenty minutes later, Scott stopped dead in his tracks as he sniffed at the air. "That's the end of the trail. She has to be around here somewhere." Then he spotted her, laying some 50 yards away at the base of a tree. He ran to her, Stiles following behind.
The coyote was still. "Are-are we sure that's even her?" Stiles asked, clearly hoping Scott was wrong but knowing he couldn't be.
"It's definitely her. Malia? Can you hear me?"
"Is she – is she dead?"
Scott reached out an unsteady hand to touch her. She growled softly at the advance, though it was more pitiful than intimidating, and they both breathed a sigh of relief at the small sign of life. Scott touched the soft fur on her right side, and his hand rose and fell rapidly due to her labored breathing. They watched as spidery black lines formed on Scott's skin.
"She's in pain."
"Maybe she got shot. Is there, like, a wound or broken bone or something?"
"No wound. No blood." Scott ran a careful hand along her limbs, but he didn't feel a break. "Her legs seem fine. Maybe she's just sick. We should bring her to Deaton."
"Only we would bring our sick friends to a veterinarian. Wait, what are you doing?" Stiles asked as he watched Scott lift Malia. "You're bringing her like that?"
"Did you want to carry her?"
"No, I mean as a coyote. You should howl, and then she could just tell us what's wrong."
"I don't know if it'll work now that she's unconscious," he said, displaying how limp she was in his arms. "And I don't want to do anything that could make it worse."
Scott started walking swiftly, and Stiles struggled to keep up, all the while still arguing. "Okay, that's a good point, except there's gonna be a friggin' coyote in my jeep! Not to be insensitive, but the last time she took a little car ride like that, it didn't turn out too well."
"It'll be fine."
"Fine?! Scott, she could wake up at any moment and bite our faces off!"
"I think she's in too much pain to do anything right now."
Stiles stopped short, looking down at his unconscious friend lying there in Scott's arms. They needed to help her, he knew that. But being Stiles, he had to argue the point, even when he ultimately agreed. "Fine, but if I end up as a werecoyote chew toy, I'm gonna be so pissed."
A/N: I love the show, but I never thought I'd write a Teen Wolf fic. But then season 3B turned my love into obsession, so I needed to write something. This is also my first attempt at a chapter fic, ever, so I'm a little nervous about it. Anyway, I hoped you liked it! Reviews/favs are always welcome. And if anyone has a question they'd like me to answer or wants to talk about writing, I'd like that too. Thanks for reading.