Stiles slams the door of his Jeep shut, rattles the keys in his hand as he walks up the stairs to his house. Unlocks the door, yawns loudly. The whole day has been fruitless, following a lead that was not a lead after all. So it was back to the drawing board, another day wasted.

"Shhh," someone whispers in the depths of the house. "You gotta be quiet. Daddy's home."

Feeling a sense of incredible panic, Stiles rushes into the living room. His mouth drops wide open. In the middle of their carpet, Malia is crouching next to a thing. A small, furry, funny looking thing. A dog.

Malia looks up at him, her eyes as large and glossy as the dog's. Innocently begging for permission.

"Malia!" He exclaims, hand running through his hair. "What is this?"

"Just don't freak out." She says cautiously.

"I'm already freaking out," Stiles says. "I'm freaking out!"

"I know," She says, holding the dog in her arms protectively, as though afraid Stiles might attack it. "But we talked about it."

"We didn't talk about this," Stiles says, gesturing to the dog. "I told you I didn't want a dog."

Malia's eyes furrow, lips form into a frown. "Fine." She walks away.

Stiles groans, rubs his eyes because he is so tired of his dead-end investigation, of a girlfriend that disregards his feelings, of everyone around him getting their happy ending and him being stuck in a rut.

Maybe he needs a break. The dog barks as Stiles walks out of the house, defeated.

"Dude, you're making a big deal out of nothing," Scott says, taking a sip of his beer and reclining in the sofa.

Stiles snorts. "I'm gonna be stuck with that thing most of the time. And I'm the bad guy for being against it."

"Dog," Scott specifies. "And maybe it's not such a bad idea. You've been running yourself dry the past couple of months."

"I'm fine."

"Fine," Scott says. "But let me give you some marriage advice. Make some compromises."

"Dude!" Stiles says, horrified. "One, I'm not married. Two, you're not even married yet. And three, I've been the one making the compromises since we started dating!"

Scott sighs. "You need to chill."

"You wanna get out?" Stiles asks. "Go somewhere for a bit?"

"I would Stiles, I really would, but Kira's gonna be home in a bit and we've got cake tasting planned."

"Yeah, alright."

And just like that, Stiles is alone again. Roaming the streets, kicking metaphorical stones, hands in his jean pockets. Malia hasn't even called him yet. Probably too busy with the amusement that the dog brings her.

"Single room please." He says, tapping his fingers on the front desk of a hotel lobby. It pains him to do this, but perhaps Scott is right. He just needs a little break from home. From Malia.

Stiles opens the case files on his laptop, starting into the bright screen, his eyes red and irritated. His phone lies next to him, where his eyes dart constantly, waiting, hoping that Malia calls.

But she doesn't. So Stiles resolves to be a pessimist, thoughts trailing into the territory that he hadn't allowed them to before. Malia hates weddings, and expresses this fact freely. She'd been irritated with him, annoyed when they went out together. And now with the dog, it seems that she's just looking for excuses to shut him out. Sure, their constant sexual endeavors tell a different story, but Malia has always been sexually liberated and-

There's a knock on the door. Stiles walks towards it, wonders why anyone would be bothering him so late at night. Reluctantly, he opens the door. Before he can truly assess the situation, he is pinned to the wall by Malia, who just as reluctantly pulls away when Stiles remains unresponsive. Her eyes narrow, trying to find the right words.

Stiles sits down on the bed, rubs his eyes.

"Stiles, I'm sorry." She says, trying to make eye contact. "I got carried away with the dog stuff."

"I'm over it," he says dismissively.

"No," Malia says, biting her lip. "No, I should have been a better girlfriend to you."

He looks up at her, gulps. Is this the beginning of a breakup speech? After so many years together, a house, an assumed future. Looking up at her, now, is like looking up at the sun.

"I don't know how to say this," she continues. "I didn't think I'd be the one doing this. But Stiles, you were right. You left and I kept thinking about how selfish I've been and how much you had to give up to make this work between us. I don't think it's fair to you, especially since we don't really have anything to show for it."

"We have a house," Stiles says. "We've had a very long, happy relationship."

"Yeah, but there's something missing."

Stiles rubs the back of his neck. The only thing missing was his courage to propose to her, to ask even though he was scared she'd say no. And now, she's saying no even without the question.

He is startled when Malia drops on one knee in front of him. She looks uncomfortable, unsure.

"Uh, Stiles, I know today hasn't exactly been the best day and I know It's my fault. But, I love you so much, more than anything. You have been the biggest support, and I don't ever want to be parted from you. Ever. Not even for a little bit."

For a moment, Stiles cannot fully understand the progression of events. Just mare moments ago, he was preparing himself for what would have undoubtedly been the most painful heartbreak. And now, Malia is in front of him, talking about her undying love. It is almost as though she is proposing to him.

"When you left today, I understood that my fears about weddings and marriage are nothing compared to the fear of not having you with me. So, um, I guess I'm asking whether you'd want to get married."

He opens his mouth, but cannot speak. The shock leaves him momentarily speechless.

"Do you want to get married? To me?"

"I- Malia, of course I want to be married to you." Stiles says, pulling her up from her knees.

"No, wait." She says, pulling away and reaching into her pocket. "I got you a ring."

She pulls out a small, velvet box, opens it. Puts the band on Stiles' ring finger.

"Okay," she says. "Now you can kiss me."

He pulls her against him, brushes the hair from her face, waits a moment before crashing his lips against hers, the kiss firm but urgent. As they unravel in front of each other, euphoric from the day's events, Stiles cannot help but think that everything happened as it should have. Malia completed him in so many ways, always pulling him up where and when he couldn't do it himself.

"How long have you been planning this for?" Stiles asks, lying on the bed, his hand lightly brushing Malia's naked shoulder.

She breathes against his neck, fingers drawing circles on his chest. "Not long at all."

"How many days?"

"About four hours."

"You sure this wasn't a silly impulse that you'll regret in the morning?"

Malia laughs. "I've been with you for almost a decade. This doesn't change anything."

"Oh, it changes a lot." Stiles says.

"Oh really," Malia says, pulling him in for a kiss.

A/N: I always imagined that Malia would be the one to propose, if it ever came to that. But no worries, Stiles will get his turn as well. Thanks for reading, and hope you enjoyed this chapter!