02

There was something about watching Malia as she moved around his kitchen, completely at ease, looking at home as she made some coffee, that hit Scott on a real gut-deep level. It wasn't quite the same as watching her when they were together in the shower, or the little glances and shy smiles as they'd pulled on some clothes and made their way downstairs. Those were great, beautiful, but this was different. There was something infinitely satisfying about it, something right, something real.

"What?" She'd picked up on his staring, and turned to face him, hip braced against the counter and a questioning look on her face. "Something wrong?"

"Nope, nothing," he replied, eyes involuntarily scanning her form.

After their shared shower, which had somehow managed to be the most intimate encounter of his life despite the fact they hadn't done much more than kiss and hold each other, they'd put on the same clothes they'd slept in and headed down for some breakfast. Liam's texts had been more about checking up than anything else, so after a quick reassuring reply, they were free to avoid reality for a little longer. He'd taken a seat at the table as she bustled around like she owned the place, very sure of herself, and he couldn't help but watch her work.

"Nothing?" The disbelief on her face and in her tone brought a smirk to his face. Crossing her arms, she arched an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

His smirk morphed into a grin, and he shrugged sheepishly. "I don't know. I like this." He gestured between them, then around the kitchen. "It feels... good. You know what I mean?"

She was silent for a moment, and he could see the smile tugging at her lips before she nodded. "I do. But don't get too used to it. Pretty sure your mom isn't gonna want me walking around her house like this." She looked down at herself, at the shirt she'd borrowed that barely reach mid-thigh.

"I don't know about that," he said, rising to his feet and starting toward her. She didn't blink or look away from his eyes as he stepped up close, arms falling on either side of her, braced on the counter. "I think she'd understand." His voice dropped an octave as he leaned in close, her head tilting up automatically to keep their eye contact intact. "And technically, we're both adults now. That has to count for something, right?"

"Yeah." The word was barely above a whisper.

Unable to resist any longer, Scott leaned in all the way and kissed her, sinking back into the blissful escape he'd found in her. He felt her arms go around his waist, pulling him insistently against her as she kissed him back, just as eager and involved as he was. They held each other, devoured each other, until the need for oxygen momentarily won out over their need for one another. They just stood there, foreheads touching as they gasped for breath, tried to calm their racing hearts.

A moment later, he felt her hands on his chest, pushing softly but insistently, and pulled back enough to shoot her a questioning look. "Breakfast now," she said softly, nodding toward the table. "More kissing later."

"Or we could keep kissing now and eat later," he suggested.

"No. You need to eat. So do I." She paused, frowning. "With the way things have been going, we could get jumped at any minute. So let's take care of that before anything else happens."

He couldn't help but smile at that, nodding as he backed away and reclaimed his seat at the table. She busied herself as he went back to watching, going through the fridge and coming out with a box of cold pizza left over from dinner two nights ago. It wouldn't have been his first choice, but she was right. He was hungry. As relaxing as his night with her had been, the fight and all the drama that preceded it had taken a lot out of him. So he sat quietly as she popped it in the microwave, then poured two cups of coffee, and brought one over to him.

"Drink."

He obediently sipped from the cup as she grabbed the pizza and her own cup and joined him at the table. She even took a couple slices out of the box and set them down in front of him before taking a seat in the chair directly across from him.

"Hey," he said, unable to keep the amusement out of his tone as she reached for her a slice of her own. "You know you don't have to take care of everything for me, right? That's not..." He sighed and pursed his lips. "That's not your responsibility."

"I know. I want to." She paused to chew a bite of pizza, then shrugged. "I like taking care of you. I mean, somebody has to, right? Not like you can take care of yourself." She shot him a teasing grin, drawing an eye-roll and an amused huff from him. "No, but seriously, it's okay to have people do things for you sometimes, Scott. Last night was... it was rough. On everybody, but especially on you. The people who love you are gonna want to help you out, even just with little stuff like this. And it might as well start with me, since we're... whatever we're doing here now."

"Dating," he supplied helpfully.

She arched an eyebrow, lips twitching, fighting a smile. "Are we? I don't remember you asking me out."

Scott hesitated for a second. He hadn't really considered what label to use for them. The relationship was too new, too overwhelming, too special to put a name to yet. He figured it would come eventually. Hell, he'd gone months with Kira before they were officially anything, and Allison had been happy with 'dating' until something a little more concrete had naturally developed. But Malia was different, and this had been building for awhile. It already felt more adult, more real than his other relationships, and not just because he was older. The connection between them was electric, but it was more than that. They'd spent all night in bed together, and it hadn't been sexual at all. He didn't think he could have predicted that, considering just how attracted to her he was, and that had to mean something, did mean something.

"I don't know," he finally said, voice soft, unsure, as he met her gaze. "I guess we're... a couple?" It came out as more of a question than he'd intended.

She considered that for a moment, rocking her head back and forth. "Together," she finally said. "We're together. How's that?"

"Yeah. Together."

His grin threatened to crack his face, the answering one on hers just as wide. When she raised an eyebrow in silent question a second later, he pushed his chair back a bit, and she quickly rounded the table and slid onto his lap.

That's how his mom found them, a few minutes later, when she stepped into the kitchen. "Oh, hey, wow, morning, guys."

Breaking apart, they both turned and found Melissa standing in the doorway in her dirty scrubs, looking about as tired as Scott could ever remember seeing her. But despite her obvious exhaustion, there was a little smile tugging at her lips as her warm eyes observed them.

Clearing his throat, he shifted a little, feeling a little awkward, but not nearly as embarrassed to be caught in such a position as he would have thought he'd be. He felt Malia start to pull away, and instinctively tightened the grip he had on her waist. He'd already made up his mind. This was a good thing, a bright spot in his life when everything around him was going to hell or drowning in darkness. He wasn't going to try and hide it away from any of his family, his friends. He wasn't going to rob either of them of the opportunity to be together, be open, while they still could. She shot him a quick look, but when his face never changed, she just settled back down on him.

"Hey, mom."

"Morning, Melissa."

Making her way into the kitchen, she dropped her bag on the floor next to the table, then sank into the chair directly across from them. For a second, she just looked at them, a full-blown smile on her face now. "So, how long's this been going on?"

"Not long," Scott said, adjusting the grip he had on Malia's waist as she shifted in his lap, turning to face his mom.

"Like two hours," she clarified.

"Oh, so really new then." Melissa shook her head, her smile morphing into a smirk. "I guess I can understand why you're making out in my kitchen then," she teased, a little surprised when they both just grinned back, not a hint of shame coming from either of them. "All right then. I, uh, well, I think—uh, you know what? Forget about it." She sank back into her chair, leaning her head back as she closed her eyes and rubbed at her temples. "I'd love to give you kids the safe sex speech and just embarrass the crap out of you, but I'm too exhausted. Really long night."

That was all it took to make reality come crashing back down on Scott. It was like the bright sunlight streaming through the window got a little dimmer, as his whole body seemed to shrink in on itself. Tension that hadn't shown itself since he woke up suddenly reared its ugly head, visible in the clenching of his jaw, the darkening of his expression. It was like a reverse of the last twelve hours, as all the happiness, the light he'd built up was suddenly shrinking, pushed aside by the return of the dark, the heavy.

"Did everything—"

Melissa waved him off there, letting out a heavy sigh. "I got everything taken care of. It took some... creative explanations, but I smoothed everything over with the hospital."

"Did you hear about..." He hesitated, reluctant to mention his failure.

The look his mom shot him there, the sympathy he could see in her eyes hit him like a shot to the heart. "Yeah, honey." Her voice was gentle, understanding, and that just made it worse. "Argent stopped by and filled me in. I'm sorry."

Before he could say anything, Malia, feeling the change in his demeanour, the tension, the sadness, turned back around and refocused on him. "Hey," she said softly, draping her arms over his shoulders as she peered into his eyes. "You did everything you could. We all did. We can't save everyone, Scott."

"That doesn't make it any easier," he replied, meeting her gaze.

"No, it doesn't. But that doesn't mean you have to carry everything with you like a hundred pound weight around your neck." Her fingers absently began to play with the hair at the base of his neck, his mother's presence completely forgotten as they looked into each other's eyes. "We're going to win this, Scott. We always do. You always do. Bad things are gonna happen along the way, but you can't let that drag you down like this. I'm not gonna let you."

He didn't even try to fight the grin her words sparked in him, giving into the warmth, the certainty in her eyes, her voice, written all over her face. Once again, his dark thoughts receded, forced to the fringes of his mind by her, her presence, her faith in him.

"You're not gonna let me, huh?"

"Nope," she replied playfully, sensing the brightening of his mood. Leaning in, she pressed a quick kiss to his lips, before pulling back, a bright smile lighting up her face.

"Wow." Both teenagers turned toward Melissa, who was watching them with closely. She locked eyes with Malia and huffed out a little amused breath. "Glad to see there's somebody else who can talk a little sense into him. This," she said, switching her gaze to Scott as she gestured toward the two of them, "I like. Consider it mother-approved, all right? And now I'm going to crash before I pass out right here." Rising, she made her way toward the stairs, only pausing briefly to squeeze his shoulder gently as she passed by him.

Once they were alone, Scott looked at Malia and arched an eyebrow, mirroring the massive grin on her face. "Have I ever told you how much I like your mom?" she asked, and he could hear the happiness in her voice.

"I'd say she likes you too," he murmured, leaning into to kiss her again, soft, sweet. When they parted, he let out a little sigh and drummed his fingers against her waist. "Now, we really should meet with everybody and figure out our next move."

"Scott..."

"Hey, I'm good, don't worry." He smiled reassuringly and reached up to cup her cheek. "You're right. We're gonna get through this, no matter how bad it gets." He felt his jaw clench reflexively as the memory of last night's loss briefly flashed through his mind, but he forced himself to relax, to not dwell on the negative while the positive was so close to him. "But we need to plan. We need to get this handled as soon as possible. Too many people have already been hurt."

She stared into his eyes then, like she was trying to see if he was really all right. Whatever she saw there must have convinced her, because after a moment, she nodded and climbed off him. He followed her to his feet, their hands finding each other, sliding together, neither wanting to give up that physical connection, that newly-established bond just yet.

Malia led the way upstairs, back into his bedroom, where they reluctantly got dressed for the day, dragging out the process as much as they could. As ready as Scott was to get things moving, he was reluctant to leave his house, to step outside of the bubble of the last few hours. He knew things wouldn't really change when they left. The two of them would still be together. She was still his rock, his lifeline, his port in this storm. But it was hard to ignore the symbolism.

"What do you think they'll all say?" he found himself asking, lying on his back on his bed as she dug through his closet for a shirt she could borrow until she could get home.

"I don't know. Nothing, if they're smart. So, expect a bunch of dumb jokes from Stiles and Liam." He snorted at that, a second before she suddenly appeared in his vision, smoothing the wrinkles out of the shirt she'd donned. "And Lydia already knows. What do you think?"

"Looks better on you than it does on me."

Reaching up, he caught her around the waist, pulling her down across him. She let out a little squeak of surprise, but quickly adjusted, sinking willingly into a long, leisurely kiss that left them both a little breathless and flushed.

As they lied there, letting their racing hearts calm, her words suddenly sank into Scott's mind. "Hey, wait. What do you mean Lydia already knows?"

Raising up, straddling his waist, she blew her hair out of her face and shrugged. "I mean, she'd doesn't know. I haven't told her yet, obviously. I don't even have my phone with me. But she's not blind, Scott. She figured out I was into you, like, a month ago. We talked about you, actually."

"You talked about me?" He tried to sit up, but she stopped him with a hand on his chest. "I... what, uh, what did you say?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she teased in a sing-song voice as she slid off him and rose to her feet.

"Yeah, I would," he replied as he let her pull him up alongside her. She started toward the door, dancing out of reach when he tried to grab her hand and flashing a grin before she disappeared into the hallway. Shaking his head, he let out an amused sigh and followed her down the stairs. "Come on, Malia. I really want to know."

"Well, that's too bad, because I'll never tell."

She was leaning against the wall next to the door, watching him approach with a little smirk on her face. He paused before her, and reached out for her hand. "I know what you're doing."

"Oh?"

"You're trying to distract me." Leaning in, he gave her a quick kiss, then leaned back to smile down at her. "Thank you."

"I don't know what you're talking about." But she squeezed his hand gently before she turned and reached for the doorknob. Sunlight flooded over them as it opened, revealing a day that seemed entirely too bright considering what was going on in Beacon Hills. Looking at him, she cocked an eyebrow in question. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

AN: Part two of whatever this is. The characterisation is a little loose on this one, but it is what it is. Turns out having a vague threat hanging over the whole story is actually harder to work with than a specific one, because you want to keep adding in little details, but that sort of goes against the point.