Chapter Eight: Stay

Half an hour had passed and not one person had told her anything.

Malia had walked right into the middle of a whirlwind of chaos - there were people running around everywhere, too distracted to notice that she was trying to get something out of them. Apparently the next town over had to send its patients to the Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital temporarily, so the workload had doubled for the people here.

But she only had her sights set on one person.

Just when she was about to boil over with frustration, she saw Parrish rounding a corner into the room, talking with a man in a long white doctor's coat. When he saw Malia, he excused himself immediately.

"Where is he?" she demanded when he was within earshot. "You told me he was here -"

"He is here," Parrish said firmly, nodding to something behind her. There was a mix of expressions on his face, but Malia didn't bother trying to differentiate between them.

Her eyes followed his until she was turning all the way around, facing the opposite end of the room. She clasped her hands over her mouth, holding back the sob of relief that bubbled up in her so fast she hardly noticed what was happening.

All she cared about was what was standing in front of her.

Stiles looked tired - really tired, like he hadn't slept in days. His jacket was gone and his shirt untucked, covered in dirt and sweat and even a little blood. But other than all of that he looked… fine.

In fact, his face lit up the second he noticed her looking at him, and he moved first, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her close fast. She melted in his arms, nuzzling his neck, her hands clutching his upper arms in a vice. "Oh God," she said. "Oh God I thought something had happened to you."

"I'm fine, Malia," Stiles assured her, exhaling but not releasing her yet. "I'm sorry -"

She pulled back, her brows furrowing. "You didn't call. You didn't even text me. Not once. How could you just let me worry like that if you were fine?"

He shook his head. "I lost my phone," he explained, brushing her hair out of her face gently. "We were in pursuit of a suspect, there was some confrontation… It didn't end well." Stiles's eyes held a far away look for a minute, like he had experienced something very dark while he had been away. But she didn't dare ask now.

"I can see that," Malia sighed. Her fingers grazed a deep purple bruise circling his left eye and he grimaced.

"Malia, I'm so -"

"I know," she told him, pressing her lips together as her hands found both of his. "Can we get out of here now? I don't think I can stand being in this hospital any longer."

Stiles kissed her forehead and smiled softly. "Yeah. Let me take you home."

—

They were inseparable the entire day.

Malia insisted that he eat something and made them lunch, sandwiches and a bottle of her favorite wine. They sat on the couch together, her legs stretched across his lap and their faces so close they could feel each other's breath and smell the wine on it.

But there was nowhere she'd rather be. And from the look in his eyes, she could tell he felt the same way.

"So what happens now?" Malia found herself asking, absently swirling the dark liquid around in her glass.

Stiles sighed, his thumb brushing back and forth over her shin. "I think Parrish knows that this has been a stressful experience for both of us, so I don't think he'll be sending me off again any time soon."

"Good, because I just got you back," she told him.

"Well I'm not going anywhere," Stiles murmured, kissing her slow and long, before adding pressure, his hand sliding up her leg, over her hip and circling her waist. She melted into the kiss, still reveling in the feel of his lips against hers again, soft and warm and intoxicating.

She set her glass on the table with his, not breaking the kiss as she twisted around in his lap, kissing him deeper. He groaned softly, his arms around her waist tightening their hold, letting her know that he wasn't letting her go again. His fingers grazed the bare skin of her back, a sliver of flesh exposed by her top riding up, making her skin hot and feverish.

It had only been a week, but it felt like it had been forever since she'd felt his touch, so every nerve on her body was alert and sensitive.

After a few minutes, they broke apart for air, their foreheads still touching and their hearts beating fast. Malia climbed off of his lap and stood, grabbing Stiles's hand and dragging him to his feet, pulling him along towards her bedroom.

Once they were outside her door, she stopped, sliding her arms around his neck and pulling him to her. "I'm really glad you're back," she whispered.

"Me too," he replied, and then without notice, his hands were on her backside, lifting her so that she had to wrap her legs around his waist as he carried her inside, shutting the door behind them with his foot.

He carried her all the way to her bed, setting her down on the mattress and climbing between her legs, his mouth capturing hers again. Malia's hands fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders and letting her eyes roam, taking in every detail, every contour, every bruise.

What she hadn't seen before was the large bruise over his rib cage that matched the one on his face, something he hadn't let on about before.

Malia didn't say anything, just gently allowing her fingers to graze the skin over it, and then pressing her lips just as gently against it. When she looked up, his eyes were closed, his features tense. She straightened up then and touched his face, making him reopen his eyes. They were dark, a sea of emotion.

"What are you thinking?" Malia asked.

He didn't say anything for a long moment, before something in his expression shifted and he sighed. "I was thinking," he said, "that I never got a chance to tell you something." Stiles kissed her briefly, his eyes never leaving hers. "I love you. So much."

Malia had known that it would be coming, but she still couldn't help the way that all of the air in her body left her, the way that she felt when she heard the words come from his mouth.

She was silent for so long that Stiles started to question if saying it right then had been the right thing to do. "It's okay if you don't want to say it back," he said softly, his hands moving to either side of her face as he continued to look at her. "I just wanted to let you know… 'cause you didn't want me to say it before… I've been waiting to get it out for a while and –"

"Stiles," Malia blurted suddenly, before allowing a laugh to escape her. "Shut up." She leaned forward and kissed him again, pressing her lips hard against his, sighing just a few seconds before pulling away. "I love you too."

"Good," he responded, grinning wide. She rolled her eyes, feeling her body relax again as she slipped a hand behind his neck and pulling him down into the kiss again.

When she woke up the next morning, he was still there.

He didn't stir when she shifted to look at him, but his arm was wrapped protectively around her waist, their heads only a few centimeters apart on the pillows. Malia watched him sleep for a long moment, smiling a little to herself as relief flooded her body.

He was there. After a whole week of worrying about him for every waking moment, he was lying there next to her, sound asleep and not going anywhere for a while.

And she was perfectly fine with that.

"You're staring at me," Stiles mumbled, his eyes barely open as he looked up at her. "Do you always do that?"

Malia smirked, "Well I guess that's for me to know and you to never find out."

"Creepy," he responded, yawning and pulling her towards him in one swift motion. His skin was warm against hers, his lips grazing her collarbone and moving up her neck to her ear. She shivered.

"Is that a problem?"

"Mmmm," he said, "Not right now. Ask again later."

Malia opened her mouth to respond, but then his mouth was on hers again and she forgot what she had wanted to say. His hand drifted down to her ass, squeezing slightly as her leg hooked around his hip. She rolled onto her back, pulling Stiles along with her so that he was on top, supporting his weight with a hand on one side of her head. He kissed her deeply, his tongue slipping into her mouth as the hand on her ass circled around, finding the place between her thighs, his fingertip pressing against her clit and rubbing until she was whimpering, her hips lifting abruptly.

She ran her hands down his chest, careful to avoid the bruise on his abdomen as he slipped a finger into her folds, and then another, making her leg tighten around him, her core warming. If he had been groggy before, he was fully alert, intent on pleasing her before the sun had even come up all the way.

But Malia wasn't about to start complaining now.

Her fingers wrapped around his length, rubbing up and down as he groaned against her lips, his fingers deep inside of her matching her rhythm. The faster she went as she stroked him, the faster his fingers would fuck her, and the louder she would moan. Eventually Stiles caved, unable to take it anymore, and soon he removed his fingers, and Malia guided his cock to her entrance, allowing him to push inside, filling her in a matter of seconds. She gasped, his mouth now at her neck, sucking at the flesh there as he drilled into her.

Malia's nails scraped down his back as she held onto him, her other leg joining the first one around his hip to anchor herself better. He held her hips as he thrust in and out, making her moan and whimper, her skin hot and feverish.

"Stiles – yes – oh my God," she panted, her nails digging in deeper.

It wasn't long before she was lost completely in the moment. Malia was all sensation, from the feel of his skin on hers to his lips and teeth and every thrust – it was almost overwhelming. But she closed her eyes and let herself feel it all, until she felt her muscles tighten around him, and her orgasm wash over her. She rode it out, and few shallow thrusts later Stiles followed.

They laid together in bed afterwards, their limbs still entangled, and after a few minutes, Stiles spoke.

"I really do love you," he murmured, still playing with her fingers. "I'm pretty sure I have since the moment I met you."

"Don't ever leave me again, Stiles," Malia told him seriously, her voice quiet.

He nodded, pressing his lips to the back of her hand. "I already told you – I'm not going anywhere," he promised. "Nothing could tear me away from you now."

"Not even the promise of a promotion?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

He didn't respond immediately, but after a short minute, he kissed the top of her head, tilting her chin upward with his finger so she could look him in the eye. Stiles smiled. "Not even that."