She stretched out on the warm bed sheets and grumbled. Her foot knocked several books off the edge, culminating in a loud smack as they hit floor.

"Malia..." Stiles exhaled, his voice containing the slightest hint of exhaustion.

"Sorry." She sighed and bit her bottom lip. "It's just that we've been at this for hours and math is pointless."

He smirked and turned his attention back to his notebook. Malia loved to watch him when he concentrated. She passed the time by playing connect-the-dots with the moles that beautifully plagued his face and upper body. He was a good distraction, especially if it meant not doing homework.

She rolled onto her back and let her eyes roam the room. She loved to be here surrounded by all the things Stiles loved; his one wall covered in pictures and different colored strings, the other plastered with posters of bands she had never heard of. She loved the smell of him that coated everything from the quilt to the plaid shirt thrown carelessly on the back of his desk chair. She loved the steady sound of his breathing as he lay down on his stomach beside her. She loved him.

"Stiles?"

"Hmmm?" he replied, absentmindedly playing with the cap of his pen.

"Have you ever been in love?"

Stiles' face whipped to the side to face her. His eyes widened and his brows rose slightly. "Wh-what? I... I... what?" he asked incredulously.

"I was just wondering what it feels like. Like, how do you know?" She furrowed her brow, not quite sure how to make him understand.

Stiles placed his pen down on top of his notebook and slowly sat up. She braced herself up on her elbows and stared at him. "Um, well, sort of. But it's stupid. It doesn't matter." He said, nervously raising his hand to rub his fingers on his temple. "She, uh, never really knew I existed." He released a short timid laugh and looked at her squinting his eyes in confusion.

"Tell me," she demanded.

"It was in the third grade shortly after my mom died when I saw her." He paused to lick his lips. "Scott wasn't at school that day, so I stayed inside to avoid the other kids at recess. You know, the social anxiety thing." She gave him a small smile, which he returned. "I remember that I was drawing this picture of my mom to give to my dad to cheer him up and she was sitting at the table across from mine. She was twirling her fingers through her hair that was almost the same color as my mom's." He swallowed before continuing. "She used to tell the other girls that she didn't want to go outside and get her shoes dirty, but really she would spend recess doing extra credit work."

"Sounds like a determined eight year old."

Stiles tilted his head to nod agreement while he shrugged his shoulders. "I, um, started to get upset when I couldn't find the right crayon to color my mom's hair. I was tossing the papers and other crayons around on the desk in a slight panic when I heard footsteps approaching me. I turned to see her bend down and reach under the table. When she straightened up, she held the crayon. All she did was smile at me as she handed it over, but it was the first genuine smile I had gotten from anyone other than Scott in months." His gaze was no longer on her. He was staring off at nothing with a slight smile creasing the corners of his mouth and his eyes slightly wide at the memory, as if in awe of the situation he once faced.

Malia cleared her throat abruptly, causing Stiles to focus his attention back on her. "What happened next? Who was she?" she asked, leaning towards him.

His eyes shifted uneasily and he took a moment before responding. "Nothing happened. I spent most of my childhood just watching her... not in a weird way. Okay, maybe a little weird." He grimaced and let out a nervous laugh, bobbing his head. "It was a silly little crush that went nowhere."

He reached over and grabbed her hand, entwining his fingers with hers. "I don't know if that answered your question or not, but we should probably finish this homework before we both flunk algebra."

The next day at school they met up with Lydia and Kira at their lockers. They were all still trying to figure out what impact the Benefactor's list would have and how best to handle it. Malia was leaning next to Kira against a locker when she noticed how close Stiles was standing to Lydia. Lydia's hands rested on her hips as she explained to Stiles how she had 'heard' the password to the list. A crowd of students were walking close by and Stiles leaned closer to Lydia to prevent being overheard, but didn't back up when the students had gone well out of earshot.

"Well, my dad is looking into the other names on the list to see if there are any unsolved cases or incidents," Stiles assured Lydia. "Maybe he'll find something that points to who the Benefactor is."

"Derek's helping Mr. Argent look into some contacts considering what the keyword was." Lydia glanced down momentarily, and Malia became really aware of Stiles' comforting hand on Lydia's upper arm. She could feel a growl rising from the pit of her stomach and struggled to suppress it.

The bell rang then and Kira popped off the locker she was resting on and made her farewells as she turned to go down the hall. Stiles let his hand drop reluctantly from Lydia's shoulder as she reached into her locker to grab her bag. She shut the door and began to turn and head to her history class. Stiles looked at her, confused. "Wait, how exactly did you know the keyword was going to unlock the code?"

Lydia rolled her eyes. "It is some form of a Vigenere Cipher. You encrypt alphabetic text using a series of Caesar Ciphers based on a keyword." She sighed. "It's a simple poly-alphabetic substitution."

Stiles grimaced. Lydia half-smiled. "And you have no idea what I'm talking about."

The corners of Stiles mouth turned up while his eyes widened in response to Lydia. A smile that Malia had seen the night before. "We'll talk more at lunch. Hopefully we'll have more answers by then."

Lydia shrugged and headed toward her class. Stiles walked over to Malia and slid his hand into hers. "You okay? You look worried?"

"Yeah, fine. Just wondering..." She looked at him. "What color was the crayon?"

"Huh? Oh, uh, red. It was a red crayon." He turned then, pulling her into the classroom. She couldn't ignore that his heart beat faster at the mention of a crayon.