Malia wakes up the next morning nuzzled against Stiles' chest, feet tangled in the mess of bed sheets. For a short moment, she feels blissfully content. Her eyes scan the environment; take in the bright rays of sunlight coming through the window, Stiles' arm wrapped around her waist, the muted blue of their bedroom walls. They settle on the bedside alarm clock, flashing large, red numbers. It's 9:37 a.m.

"Shit!" she exclaims, loud enough that Stiles' eyes flutter open almost immediately. He lets out a sound of indignation.

"What?" he asks.

"I'm late," she says through gritted teeth, pulling on a pair of pants and a shirt she quickly grabbed from the closet. "I'm gonna be in such shit."

Stiles yawns. "I'll give you a ride."

She stops, bites her lip. "I might need a faster means of transport."

His mouth falls wide open. "Don't."

She purses her lips; "If I make it in the next 10 minutes they won't get a substitute."

"Malia, it's dangerous." Stiles warns.

"I have a class to teach," she says. "and I'm planning to teach it."

He could argue with her, but that is never beneficial when it comes to Malia. She's already got her mind set on shifting and running through the woods like a wild animal. A wild ware-coyote, to be more exact.

So he lets her, yawning one last time as the doors slam behind her. After a shower and a hearty breakfast, he settles in to do some work. His office is large, but crammed with boxes of documents, filing cabinets and other materials. He scratches the back of his head, begins the day with the routine checking of messages.

So I proposed today. Yeah, I know, thirty years later. Kira is on the phone with Malia right now, and uh I'm calling to tell you that you're my best man. I'll drop in later to talk.

Stiles smirks, taps his fingers on the desk.

In the staff washroom, Malia attempts to calm down the tangle of her hair. She's irritated, stressed and fidgety. The past few days have been filled with bad luck and she doesn't know how much more of it she can take.

"Morning," a tall blonde woman says as she walks through the door. "Everything okay?"

Malia takes a deep breath. "Just a minor hiccup this morning."

But the hiccup doesn't end there.

A student twisting an ankle interrupts her afternoon gym class, she overhears two teachers gossiping about her in the staff room, and on top of that, she is forced to eat lunch from the cafeteria.

So when Kira calls and asks to have dinner, Malia is torn between not wanting to hear any more about her bridesmaid duties and eating a good meal. But it's Malia, so a good meal always triumphs.

They meet at a local restaurant, Malia beating Kira by almost fifteen minutes. She's annoyed and hungry, drinking her second glass of wine. But when she looks up to see her best friend walking towards her, all those feelings disappear. Kira is glowing.

"Congratulations once again!" Malia says, giving her a tight hug.

"You can't imagine how happy I feel." Kira squeals. "For a while, I thought it'd never happen."

She waves her hand, "Why would you think that? Scott loves you."

"Yeah," Kira says. "Listen, I wanted to apologize for not making you the Maid of Honor."

"Really, there's no need."

"I just thought that it might stress you out," she says. "It's a lot of responsibility."

Malia grimaces. "Lydia will do a much better job than I ever could. Everything I touch ends up dying."

"That's not true," Kira says, "You know it's not."

Malia shrugs. "I don't know anything."

After dinner, Malia settles for a piece of lemon meringue pie. She has food in her body, and feels infinite times better about everything. Maybe this wedding won't be so bad. Maybe going to all the parties and events, and wearing a dress that is most likely uncomfortable and strange, won't be so bad. She's so lost in her thoughts, that when she does look up at Kira, she's met with an expression of discomfort.

"What's up?"

"I probably shouldn't say this," Kira says. "But I've always assumed that you and Stiles would get married before Scott and I ever did."

Malia gulps. "Why?"

"I can't explain it. I can see the feelings you two have for each other, like electricity."

She laughs. "It just seems that way."

Kira's lips tighten. So much for feeling better about weddings.

"Today has been a nightmare," Malia whines as she opens the door. "I need this wedding to stop."

"You're still at it?" Stiles calls from his office. "You're focusing on it too much."

"I'm not the one who is." She says, leaning on his doorway. "Kira's gotten sick with the wedding virus."

"What?"

"She thinks it's her responsibility to marry us."

Stiles dribbles some coffee on his shirt.

"That was my reaction." She says dismissively.

"Wait," he says. "Why?"

"Because there's some electricity between us or something." She replies. "I'm going to get a Coke."

"No, wait." Stiles says, following her. "Why are you so against getting married?"

She looks back at him. "I'm not."

"No, you are." He presses.

"Ugh fine Stiles," she says. "I hate that it has to be such a show."

"That's a shitty excuse and you know it." He says. "You had no problem showing me off as your properly for most of high school and then some."

Malia rolls her eyes. "Not the same."

"Explain."

"The people," she says. "The flowers, the music, the nauseating sweetness of it all. It's not my thing."

"Right, okay." Stiles says, walking back to his office.

Malia frowns. She assumed that telling Stiles how she feels about weddings would make her feel better, but it only made her feel worse.

A/N: Another chapter coming your way! Thank you for reading and I hope you continue enjoying the story!