Malia pulled her tangled hair to the left side and braided it. Her reflection in Stiles bathroom mirror showed sleepiness and nerves. A week and a half since she'd gone to see Peter and it hadn't been long enough. The notebook paper was prepared and placed carefully into her purse. She had not contributed to the questions currently plaguing her thoughts.

Her boyfriend walked in with a cheeky grin, "Good morning, beautiful."

She moved out of his way as he reached for his toothbrush, "Morning."

"How'd you sleep?" He handed her a purple toothbrush with paste already on it.

"Good," She spoke before joining him in brushing. Her mind was in a staring contest with the drain.

"What time did you wake up?"

She looked up as she spit, "Six."

"Why so early?" He did the same.

They put the brushes away, "It just happened."

Malia entered his bedroom once again, observing her clothing options for the day. She would not go see Peter in Stiles shirt and underwear. She hurried to grab something simple and not at all like she'd picked out five outfits the night before.

"Are you scared about going back?" Stiles joined her and slipped on some jeans.

"Not really," She knew that was true, her nerves just wouldn't agree.

He put on a classic flannel, "I would come in with you if I was allowed."

"It's fine, Stiles. I can do this," Her jeans had tears in them, her army green tee was covered by a dark brown sweater cardigan. Her feet fell into matching brown combat boots.

He wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her closer, "You sure you don't want me to drive you and wait outside?"

"No. You told Lydia you'd help her with Parrish today. That's more important. I have no idea how long this will take anyways. I'll call when I leave," She said before pecking him on the lips.

He gave her a proper kiss before begging for more information, "How are you getting there?"

Malia chuckled and turned to get her purse, "Your dad said he could drop me off on his way to work."

"Oh, did he? When exactly could he have offered this?" Stiles asked, putting on deodorant and trying not to let his inability to be out of the loop show.

She stepped into the hallway, "Yeah, I got here early yesterday and he offered me steak..."

"Fantastic. My dad is having secret meetings with my girlfriend. Good knows what that entails," He mumbled, rummaging around his messy desk for his phone.

The Sheriff yelled from the bottom of the steps, "You ready, Malia?"

-(·)-

"I thought this was a one visit per decade deal," Peter sat slowly, aware of her odd mood.

"I'm only here as the middle man," She fell deeper into the chair.

His eyebrows pushed together, "What do you mean?"

"Once I told everyone I came here the other day, after the yelling and fake attempts at understanding, they decided they wanted me to ask you questions," Malia's voice drifted off.

"Why?"

"You do know how to keep people hanging," She said rather quick and with an attitude.

He sighed heavily, "I guess so. How many do they have?"

Taking out the paper, she unfolded it and held it up for him. She had to flip it a couple of times before the point got across; there were a lot. Each side was filled into every corner and crease.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Let's get to it then."

"I -uh-" Malia looked over the paper one last time.

He tried to help, "Just start at the top."

She folded it back up neatly, "How about I just say you wouldn't answer any of them? That you want them to stay in the dark with your mysterious and evil ways."

He caught on to her slight joked tone.

"Why would you do that?"

"I don't want to be here all day."

"Oh."

"Alright?"

"Fine. We'll do it your way," His expression held only submission.

Malia stayed in her chair, searching the pale walls for nothing in particular, "Okay."

Peter eyes her wearily, "Is there something you wanted to talk about?"

She didn't look at him, "No."

"Then, why'd you come all the way here?" He asked.

Malia met his gaze, "I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"Yeah. Is that a problem?"

Peter sighed, "Not at all."

Malia looked him over. He looked odd without the usual v-neck and his eyes showed more lack of sleep than the last time they'd met. She shuffled in her seat, not sure what she wanted to happen next.

Peter spoke first, saying what she'd thought he never would show interest in, "How's school going?"

It took her a moment to pull herself together, her face revealing all that was happening inside, "It's going."

"Still hate math?"

"With a passion. History is a close second."

His features got lighter, "What? History? I used to love it. It was my favorite subject -don't tell anyone that."

Her chuckle was light, "Scouts honor. Trust me, that's almost embarrassing for me. Why did you like it?"

He noticed how her hands stayed glued to the armrests, how her attention couldn't be kept in one place for too long. He smiled lightly, "I'm good with memory."

She raised her eyebrows up at him, accusing.

"Okay, with memory I can control."

She countered, "They want to know the how's and whys too, you know."

"Now that's the part you bullshit."

Malia laughed, their smiles similar in form, "I wish that came easy to me."

"You'll figure it out," Peter's words were soft, "I can't believe they threw you back into school the way they did. I think it was too fast."

"Me too. I'm in no "slow" classes and I have two maths."

He was the one to chuckle, "That just means you're smart enough for all that work."

"It doesn't make me feel smart."

"It will. Eventually."

She scooted to the edge of her seat, pulling on her bag, "I should probably get going. Lydia said she'd help me study later. Finals are in a few weeks."

"Don't work yourself too hard. And, Malia, do come visit again."

"I might," She then stumbled out of the room.