Chapter Two: Comfortable

"I hate you. I can't believe I let you talk me into this. I can't do this. Have I mentioned that I hate you?"

Kira rolled her eyes, grabbing her friend's arm when she tried to turn back in the middle of the sidewalk. "You don't hate me," she told her. "And since when do you ever back out of anything? It's usually you who has to push me out of the apartment in these situations."

Malia brushed her hair out of her face, resignedly continuing down the street in step with her friend. "Well this is a special occasion."

"Too bad. We're here," Kira replied, her face instantly lighting up when she saw all of the people pouring in and out of the coffee shop. Open Mic Night had been Kira's idea from the beginning, so she was always thrilled when people actually showed up for it, even after a year.

In a small town like Beacon Hills, of course it was a success.

"Besides, I thought you said you liked this guy." Kira spoke distractedly, her eyes searching the crowd for Scott and Stiles as they walked inside.

"I only said that I thought he was nice."

"I'm pretty sure you also mentioned that his ass was nice in his uniform." Malia ran into someone out of shock at the fact that her best friend was saying (repeating) something like that, and Kira smirked mischievously.

Before Malia could retort, they found their friends standing up near the talent, a brother-sister based band called First Fires. They were playing a stripped version of "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" that was actually not half bad. Kira always knew how to pick the good ones.

Kira and Scott kissed in greeting, instantly jumping into conversation, leaving Malia and Stiles pretty much alone yet again. They stood only a few inches apart, both because personal space was virtually nonexistent tonight and the music was so loud.

"You look nice," Stiles half-shouted into her ear, taking a sip from his mug. "How are you?"

"Currently going deaf," Malia responded, only half-joking as her eyes scanned the room. The lights had been dimmed, there was some kind of incense burning that smelled of lavender, and there were people everywhere, mostly young adults, but there were also some children and older people here and there. "I'm going to get a drink."

"I'll come with you."

Malia led him through the crowd to the counter, where an older woman she had never met before was working. Further away from the band, the music wasn't quite as loud and she could hear herself think again. "I bet the neighbors hate Friday nights."

"Yeah, I think I heard somewhere that they all moved away the second they heard that live shows were going to start being a regular thing," Stiles said, clearly kidding.

"You're kidding."

"I'm a police officer - I hear everything. I am the eyes and ears of this town."

Malia ordered hot tea, rolling her eyes at his response. "Are you ever serious? I didn't think police officers had a sense of humor." She handed the woman a five dollar bill and told her to keep the change.

"Ouch," Stiles said.

She smirked, looking away as the band started playing a song she'd never heard before. Okay, so maybe she had been overreacting. But how was she supposed to know that things would turn out this… well? Once again he was drawing her in, making her feel comfortable even though she barely knew anything about him.

"Tell me about yourself," she found herself saying after a minute, taking her mug of hot tea and emptying three packets of sugar into it. "Where did you grow up? Why did you want to become a police officer? I want the whole story."

"The whole story?" Stiles repeated, raising a brow.

Malia thought for a second. "Okay, you can skip the early years. Those only interest me if you have pictures," she laughed.

They talked for what felt like hours. Mostly Malia listened, but there were times when she couldn't help but interrupt - namely when he told her about how many times he had been picked up by his dad, the Sherriff ("You're a police officer and you've been arrested? Talk about irony!"), and how he'd never been in a serious relationship in his life ("You're kidding! But you're so… uh… I mean, that's crazy"). They connected when he told her about losing his mom when he was young, because she'd lost hers, too. But she refused to let them dwell on depressing topics, urging him to talk about becoming a police officer instead.

"…so it was really my dad who inspired me to do it," Stiles was saying. They were sitting in the back of the coffee shop, tucked into two old armchairs and totally oblivious to the fact that more than half of the crowd had left by then. "I hadn't really thought about what I wanted to do when I was a kid, but I was always involved in my dad's work anyway. I knew all of the codes, I even hacked into his police radio so I could keep up with everything."

"Sounds like fate to me," Malia decided, finishing off her now cold tea. Glancing around, she finally noticed the state of the shop.

Stiles was looking around now, too. "Well it looks like we've overstayed our welcome and our friends are nowhere to be found," he observed. "Do you want to get out of here?"

Malia stood up when he did, mid-stretch when he asked the question. She blinked, taking a moment to process. Her eyes widened slightly, her mind reeling. Was this really happening? Was this the moment? Did this mean that they actually had been on a date? Where was Kira when she needed her?

She pulled out her phone, noting that it was half past ten and that she had no missed calls and no messages.

"Oh wow… I know what that sounded like, and I didn't mean to… I just meant… I was asking if I could walk you home?" Stiles stumbled over his words, speaking quickly, trying to correct himself over and over. It made her laugh how worried he had been, and she felt herself relax.

But as she looked at him longer, she realized that she didn't just want him to walk her home. She didn't want this night to end - they had been having such a good time.

Malia shrugged, picking up her jacket. "Sure," she told him, "but only if you stay for a drink."

—

By eleven thirty, one drink turned into three glasses of wine, courtesy of the bottle that Kira had bought Malia for her last birthday. The brunette leaned against the edge of the island in the kitchen, one hand bracing herself against the surface as she took another sip from her glass, the buzz from the alcohol already prominent.

Stiles stood in front of her, maybe a foot of space separating them. "Okay, it's your turn," he announced. Malia quirked a brow. "I told you my story, now you have to tell me yours."

"What makes you think I have one?" She teased.

"Because everyone has a story. So, come on. Let's have it."

Malia bit her lower lip, considering. She'd already spent numerous hours alone with this guy, and knew practically all there was to know about him. He made her feel comfortable even before that, so there was no reason for her not to tell him something.

In fact, it was only fair, since he had done the same only a few hours before.

"Fine," she said, before launching into the riveting tale of her life and how it got to this point. She told him about her mom, about how she'd had a little sister, how she'd done gymnastics as a kid and how she'd always loved history and hated math in high school. She told him about how she'd tried being vegetarian for like a week, how she'd majored in biology in college, how she wanted to become a veterinarian, how she'd gotten her job at Greenberg's.

By the end of the story, she could see that Stiles was trying not to laugh.

"What's so funny?" Malia demanded, tossing a cheese cube at him in disapproval.

"Nothing… I mean, I don't know, I can't really see you as a vegetarian, but otherwise, it was a good story. Ten out of ten. Would make a movie out of it."

She threw another cheese cube at him. "Liam was right - you are an asshole."

"Hey! You're wasting perfectly delicious cheese," he said as he caught the next one she threw, popping it into his mouth. She laughed, taking another swig of her wine as she reached for another one. Stiles jumped and grabbed her arm before she could throw it, pinning it to the counter. "Don't even think about it."

"But I already am thinking about it, Coffee Boy," she challenged, her eyes never leaving his. "What are you gonna do about it?"

He didn't speak for a long moment, and with him so close, she could feel his breath, hot on her face. Her eyes only left his for a second, but they took in everything, from the way his hair still looked like he'd just woken up, even now, to the way his lips looked so soft and inviting. Her mouth went dry and suddenly all she wanted was to find out if she was right, to run her fingers through his hair and crush her lips against his, but he didn't move an inch and she didn't breathe.

They stood there for a painfully long time, so long, in fact, that Malia just couldn't take it anymore and did the only thing she could think of.

She pulled her hand free and set her glass down, grabbing the front of his shirt and capturing his lips in hers. She barely heard his gasp of surprised, hardly cared as she felt his hands on her, gripping her hips and digging his fingertips into her sides. She exhaled hard through her nose, kissing him harder, deeper, relishing the feel of his body against hers as he pinned her to the counter.

Another full minute passed before they came up for air, breathing heavily, Malia's hands still grasping his shirt. She shook her head, but he spoke first. "Not exactly what I'd had in mind," he said with a breathless laugh, his eyes finding hers.

Malia didn't know what to say. Her blunt side told her that she wasn't sorry for what happened, because she had been wanting to do that since they'd left Greenberg's. But her rational side told her that she wasn't ready to jump in with both feet. Despite the fact that they had shared a lot with each other in the past couple of hours, she still had only known him for a grand total of three days.

"Look, we're still getting to know each other, right? Tonight was fun, this was fun, but maybe we should leave it here for the night," Malia told him, her eyebrows raising slightly, hopeful that he'd understand.

"You're right. Besides, it's getting late," he finished off his glass of wine, before setting it down next to hers on the counter and smoothing his shirt. He turned to leave but stopped to kiss her chastely, slowly pulling away, making her insides tighten in longing. "I'll call you tomorrow."

She swallowed and nodded, and then he turned and disappeared out of the room, the sound of the front door opening the only indication that he was gone. Malia groaned loudly when she was finally alone, sliding down the side of the counter and sitting on the floor, burying her face in her hands.

What had she just gotten herself into?