word count: 9,658
polyvore: username is 'sarcasticfina' - check under Collections for one named after this story to see all of Malia's fashion choices
episodes: 1x04 - magic bullet

XI

"So, you're… friends with benefits?" Stiles looked from the road to Malia, his brow furrowed. "And Cole was cool with that? Wait, of course he was cool with that. What guy wouldn't be cool with that?"

"I don't know if I'd call us friends…" Malia shrugged, her attention on the orange she was attempting to peel in one piece. "We're just people with benefits."

"And this was your idea? Right?" He squinted. "Like, you're okay with this?"

She nodded. "Yeah, it's like you said. I wanted to be honest with him. I'm not ready to be in a relationship. It'd be shitty to let him think different when I was still hung up on Scott… This way, we can hang out and do whatever and I don't have to feel guilty."

"And by 'whatever,' you mean…?"

"I mean 'whatever.'" She shook her head. "I'm taking it on an individual basis. Maybe we just make out, maybe we go farther. I'll decide when I get there."

"Right. Sure. Okay." He shifted around in his seat. "So, you're saying you're open to that, though? Like, you've thought about it?"

"Stiles, girls think about sex just as much as boys do." She rolled her eyes. "Men haven't cornered the market on sex and masturbation, even if they like to think they have. Purity is an outdated concept anyway."

"Cool, yeah. Listen, you know I love you, right? Not quite like a sister, because there was that one dream I had when I was thirteen that was totally not brotherly…"

Malia sighed. "Get to the point."

"Right. What I'm saying is that hearing you say masturbation right then might've actually given me a stomach ache. Maybe even the beginning stages of an ulcer." He waved a hand energetically. "Not that I don't think you should be able to whenever you, uh, need to. But maybe I'm not the person you talk to about, uh, that. Maybe you could talk to Allison or that blond girl from yesterday. The freshman."

"Erica. And I didn't say I wanted to talk to you about masturbation. All I'm saying is that you shouldn't put women and sexuality up on some unreachable pedestal or something. They get themselves off, trust me. And if I feel like exploring that with Cole, I will. But right now, no. He's a good kisser. We have fun."

Stiles' eyes narrowed. "Uh-huh. Good concept, sure. Just trying really hard not to think of it in relation to you so that I don't have a repeat of the dream… 'Cause if you'll remember, I couldn't look you in the eye for like, a week."

"Yeah, it was weird for both of us. And Scott."

"I might've told him more detail than he wanted to hear, but, hey! I was thirteen and I thought I had a crush on you for a second." His eyes widened. "Glad I figured that out early. Just completely normal hormones with no emotional attachment."

Malia snorted. "We were all relieved."

"Hey! I'd be a catch!"

Grinning, she shook her head. "You would be. Just not for me."

"Don't feel bad. There aren't many who could handle all of this."

Malia's mouth twitched. "A rare kind of person."

He grinned. "Exactly."

Malia threw a piece of orange at his face, laughing at it bounced off his cheek and landed in his lap. Without shame, he grabbed it up and popped it in his mouth.

…

Malia looked up as a shadow fell across her while she was digging through her locker for her books. Finding a grinning Danny beside her, her brows hiked. "Hey… Don't tell me you're here for a surprise pop quiz."

He snorted. "No." Resting his shoulder against the locker next to hers, he hooked a hand in the strap of his bag. "I wanted to tell you that I took your advice."

"My advice…" She frowned. "I don't remember giving advice. What did I say?"

He rolled his eyes. "I visited my dad at work… mostly so I could meet his boss's son again. He works in the mail room. Anyway, he's a nice guy, and just as cute as I remember."

"Oh!" She smiled slowly. "So… What's that mean?"

"It means I have a date tonight. His name's Adam. I don't know if it'll go anywhere, but I hope it does."

"That's great." Malia shoved a few books in her bag, dug out an apple, and then closed her locker with a snap. "The closest thing I've had to a real date involved five people, so I hope you're not here for any wisdom on what to do."

"No." He pushed off the lockers and they started walking together. "Well, maybe."

"About what?" She looked up at him. "Danny, you're basically everyone's favorite person. You're smart and funny and obnoxiously good looking."

His eyebrows arched. "Obnoxiously?"

"You told me you went running while you had a hangover." She snorted. "Who does that? Obnoxiously hot people."

"I also threw up in the bushes a few times," he pointed out. "Not exactly attractive."

"Sure you did. And your vomit probably smelled like fresh daisies." She rolled her eyes. "My point is, you have nothing to worry about. Adam's the lucky one."

Danny smiled. "Thanks for the ego boost, but… I don't know. I'm still a little freaked out. I mean, I've dated before. But this feels different."

"It's probably just the anticipation."

His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you've been putting it off for a while, so you've probably thought about what it would be like or what he might be like. And now that you're getting a chance to be with the real Adam and not just whoever you cooked up in your head, you're not sure what to expect. Maybe he's super weird or has some kind of crazy fetish."

"Probably won't find that out on the first date. Fetishes come in after at least two dates," he joked.

Malia laughed. "Sure. Hide the weird for a date or two and then toss it out there while you're both wrist deep in popcorn."

"Exactly." He bumped her shoulder with his elbow. "Speaking of dates… how was yours?"

"Weird, honestly. It started off okay. Jackson was being a dick, Lydia was pretending to suck at bowling, Scott actually was sucking..." She looked up at him. "Have you ever had a friends-with-benefits thing with anyone?"

He paused, surprised by the question. "Uhh… Yeah. Why?"

"Well, I told Cole I wasn't really interested in anything serious. Because I'm not. And I don't want to lead him on. But then I was talking to Stiles earlier about what 'benefits' really means and…"

"And you're not sure if Cole is expecting sex?" Danny smiled gently. "Sounds like something you should talk to him about."

She sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I know. I just… I feel weird. Like, we're not dating, but we're still something. I don't know. I've never done this."

Danny hummed. "Do you want to do this?"

"I mean… Yeah." She frowned. "It's not that I don't want a relationship with all the sappy love stuff and the hand holding and the mushy words or whatever. I just…"

"Don't want it with Cole." He nodded knowingly. "So, treat it like training wheels."

She frowned. "Huh?"

"When you can't ride the bike on your own yet, but you want to learn the basics, you throw some training wheels on and build up some muscle memory. Then, when you're ready, you take them off and see what happens. Sometimes you fall off, cry, and try again. And sometimes you get it right."

"Okay, and without the metaphor?"

Danny wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side, squeezing her gently. "Only do what you're ready to do. There's still a chance you'll get hurt in the end, but it's better to go at your own pace than anybody else's. When you're ready, go for it."

"'It' being sex or a relationship?"

"Whatever you want it to be."

Malia tipped her head back and groaned. "Why is this so complicated?"

"Entertainment?"

She glared at him, but Danny merely grinned.

…

At lunch, Malia was happy to find herself outside, sitting in the grass, tucked against her favorite tree, far from the noise and chaos of the cafeteria. Sitting across from her was Allison, who was eating a cold slice of leftover pizza.

"Who's Kate again?"

"My dad's sister." Allison beamed. "She's amazing, you'll love her. She's just so… strong and smart and pretty much everything I've ever wanted to be."

Malia crossed her legs at the ankle, brows hiked. "Big words."

"Yeah, I know. I just, I always really connected with her. She's more like a big sister than an aunt." Allison shrugged. "Anyway, I really want you to meet her. You kind of remind me of her, actually."

"Really?" Malia pulled a face. True, she didn't know Kate Argent, but given that the Argents were apparently hunters, she was a little unsure if she liked the comparison. "Why?"

"Well, you're both confident and sure of yourselves. Like, you don't let anyone tell you what to do. You just are who you are. That's pretty admirable." Allison tucked her hair behind her ear. "So? Will you? She'll be here sometime tomorrow, you could come over for dinner on Friday!"

"Uh, sure, yeah." Malia nodded. "But now that you've talked her up and compared us, I'm going to have some high standards."

Laughing, Allison rolled her eyes. "Trust me. You'll get along great."

"Cool. So, what're you doing tonight?"

"I don't know." She shrugged. "Nothing. Why? You got an idea?"

"Well, you mentioned wanting to go skating… I thought we could check the rink out."

"Ooh, yes!" Allison nodded. "I'll ask Lydia. We have class together after lunch."

Malia scrunched up her nose. "If she wants to come, sure."

Allison stared at her knowingly. "You guys were making progress… Is this about what she said last night?"

"You mean about how I have to be putting out to keep Cole's attention?" She raised an eyebrow. "I'm not taking it too personally. Lydia gets snippy when she feels threatened. And since you and Scott were definitely kicking their ass at bowling, she went for the lame horse."

"You're hardly lame." Allison picked a mushroom off her pizza and tossed it away. "You know she's wrong, right?"

"Is she?"

Allison frowned. "I don't really know Cole. He seemed nice enough. But… I mean, bottom line, if that is all he wants, you deserve better."

"Thank you. I don't think it is, and I don't know if we even will. But, you're right. I mean, I like him. But I don't think sex is on the table. Not right now."

Allison hummed. "You know, when I first moved here, I told myself I wasn't going to date. I was going to focus on school and make friends and leave all this dating stuff for college… Sometimes I think that'd be easier. There's just so much expectation when it comes to relationships. You never really know if you're doing it right or what's normal." Her eyes widened. "Don't get me wrong. I really like Scott. I just… I don't know. I think there has to be a balance. Life and school and friends and dating. I don't want to be one of those people that prioritizes their boyfriend or girlfriend over their friends, you know?"

"I don't think you are. You make a lot of time for me and Lydia. You do your own thing. And when you want to hang out with Scott, you do."

"I guess that's easy to say when we've only had one date." She half-smiled. "I just like how it is now. I guess I don't want it to change."

"Are you worried I'm going to start spending all my free time with Cole? Because I won't. I just saw him yesterday, that should last me at least a week."

Allison snorted. "Uh-huh." She shook her head. "I'm being overemotional, ignore me."

"It's fine. You had no friends when you got here and you said that's what you always wanted, right? At least one friend that would stick with you through everything. I think between me and Lydia, we've got you covered. Starting with our all-girls skating night."

Grinning, Allison nodded. "You're right."

Malia held out a baggie of chips and shook it at her.

With a laugh, Allison dug inside and pulled a few out. "Cheers."

Malia raised a chip of her own, winked, and tossed it in her mouth.

…

"What do you mean you're busy tonight? With what? Or who? Is it a who?" Stiles stared at her curiously as they walked out of the school. "Is it Cole? Are we being replaced by your person with benefits?"

Scott pulled a face. "Person with benefits...?"

"That's what she called him. They're not 'together-together.'" Stiles rolled his eyes. "They're just having 'fun.'"

"Quit with the finger quotes." Malia slapped at his hands. "And I'm not replacing you with Cole. I'm not even hanging out with Cole. I'm going skating."

"Skating?" Scott's brow furrowed. "With Allison?"

"And Lydia. She sent me a text. I don't even know how she got my phone number, but she said she'd meet us at the rink at six."

Scott hummed. "I thought you didn't like skating."

"I don't like being cold." Malia shrugged. "I'll bundle up. Allison was pretty excited about it and I'm not terrible at skating, so…"

"So, just you three. No Jackson?" Stiles looked interested. "I can skate…"

"Sure, you can. Any night but tonight." Malia looked over at him knowingly. "It's girls only."

"What? Says who? The ice rink is open to the public!"

"And if you crash our girls' night, I'll open your face to the public."

Stiles scoffed and threw a hand up. "Why do you always resort to violence?"

"Because it works." She shrugged. "Look, we can hang out tomorrow. Pizza and a movie or something."

Scott nodded. "I'm up for that."

"Fine." Stiles frowned. "But would it kill you to talk me up a bit to Lydia?"

Malia rolled her eyes. "If I see an opening, I'll take it."

"Good, yes." He brightened, brows arched and a grin pulling up one corner of his mouth. "That's all I ask."

"Hey! Stiles!" a classmate called out.

Stiles pivoted on his heel and frowned. "Uh, I'll be right back. We're working on a project together. It's due this weekend."

As he walked off, Malia turned to Scott. "You've got a shift at the clinic?"

"Yeah." He nodded, his thumbs hooked in the straps of his backpack. "Until eight. Then I'm gonna drop some dinner off for mom."

"Good. She'll like that." Malia smiled. "Tell her I say hi."

"I will."

Malia chewed her lip. "So, have you heard from Derek at all?"

He sighed. "No. Nothing." His brow furrowed. "I don't know what he's expecting. How am I supposed to help him find this alpha if I don't even know who it is?"

She shrugged. "Some weird werewolf echolocation or something?"

He snorted. "Yeah. At this point, I wouldn't be surprised."

Malia reached out, her fingers wrapping around the cuff of his sweater and tugging gently. "I know you're overwhelmed with all this werewolf stuff—"

"Would you be?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean… Stiles, he loves this stuff. If he was bit, he'd be celebrating it. And you… You always seem to know what to do. All this stuff with Derek, it freaks me out. But you're not scared of him. Not really. And when I start shifting, you're always so calm. You just… you face it, even when you know it could hurt you."

"That's different."

"Why?"

"Because…" She shook her head, her brow furrowed. "It's you. And I know you think you can't handle it or you can't control yourself, but I've seen you do it. And if Derek can do it, then so can you." She stepped a little closer, glancing around to make sure none of the other students were close enough to overhear them. "It's not that I'm not scared. I get scared all the time. When I was running through the woods to get to Derek's house, I was worried you were hurt or something was out there with me. I worry about my dad constantly. I worry about you and Stiles and your mom. I worry about what the alpha might do if it figures out you're helping Derek. Or what it'll do if no one stops it. But, I also know that we're doing something about that. Or we want to, anyway. As soon as Derek gives us something to do."

Sighing, Scott stared at her searchingly. "Being close to me, working with Derek, that could put you right in this alpha's path... That's not safe. That's the exact opposite."

"Maybe it isn't, but you're a lot better off with me than without me." She shrugged. "Look, I don't know what I'd do if I were in your shoes. Your whole life has been turned upside down, that takes some getting used to. For all we know, I'd be a terrible werewolf. What I do know is that if you're taking this thing on, then so am I."

He stared at her a long beat and then sighed. "I know."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't look so enthusiastic."

Scott shook his head. "You're right. We're better together. But I can't help but think you'd be safer away from me."

"Let me worry about my safety."

He half-smiled. "We're a team, right? You worry about me, I worry about you. That's how it works."

"You two look intense." Stiles appeared next to them, brows raised. "What's up?"

Malia turned to him. "Just reminding Scott that we're all going to solve this alpha junk together."

"She's right, buddy." Stiles patted Scott's chest. "All for one and one for all."

Malia smothered a smile, remembering Derek's Three Musketeers reference not so long ago.

"Hey, that reminds me… If Derek isn't the Alpha, if he's not the one who bit you, then who did?"

Scott's shoulders slumped. "I don't know."

Stiles nodded. "But the alpha definitely killed the bus driver? Or are there more wolves out there?"

"We're pretty sure it was the alpha." Malia shrugged. "Derek thinks it's the start of some kind of murder spree."

"Right. And it killed Derek's sister to become an alpha so it could or…?"

"You don't have to be an alpha to kill someone, but you're stronger."

"Okay…" Stiles pursed his lips and looked to Scott. "So, do you think Allison's dad knows about the alpha then?"

"I don't know!" Scott threw his hands up. "I don't know anything. Malia knows more than me."

She shrugged. "Only because I actually talk to Derek."

"Right." Scott glowered. "I forgot he showed up at your house before your date. Because he's so familiar with you that it doesn't raise any red flags."

Malia's gaze flattened. "Are you seriously pissed about that?"

"Personally, I'm still not sold on the 'Derek's a good guy' theory." Stiles raised a hand. "So, I'd be a little worried about you inviting him over, too."

"I didn't invite him. He showed up."

Scott's eyes widened. "And you let him in!"

"Yeah, and he told me more about what's been going on than we've learned in the last couple weeks. Look, I know you guys think it's a bad idea to trust him, but we need to know what's happening. I'm not going to keep arguing with you about this. Derek has answers that we need. And he's the only one that can help us track down this alpha and stop it before it hurts anyone else."

"What if we can't?" Stiles wondered, gaze darting between them. "What if all we do is piss this thing off?"

"Standing around hoping it doesn't kill or bite anyone isn't really an option." Malia stared them down "So, either get on board or don't. But, I'm not going to just let this happen, and I know both of you well enough to know you won't either." Marching past them, she walked toward the parking lot.

"I thought I was giving you a ride!" Stiles called after her.

"I changed my mind," she shouted over her shoulder.

Stiles frowned, while Scott stared after her, his brow furrowed.

Malia kept walking, only coming to an abrupt stop when a car pulled in front of her.

The window rolled down, revealing a grinning Danny. "Hey. Hop in."

Malia didn't hesitate. Pulling her bag off her shoulder, she hopped into the passenger seat and pulled the door closed behind her with a snap. "Don't you have a date?"

"Not until later." He looked from her toward the two boys. "Things okay?"

"Yeah, it's nothing."

He hesitated a beat and then nodded. "If you say so."

As he pulled the car away, Malia couldn't help but look back. Scott was walking to his bike, his head down, while Stiles cut toward his jeep, fiddling with his keys. She knew they'd come around. As much as Scott didn't want to be a werewolf, he was one, and it was his alpha that was terrorizing the town. There were already two bodies wracked up and she had a good idea that more were coming. They had to do something.

…

"For the record, I haven't been skating in a while."

Allison looked over from where she was seated on a bench, still lacing up her skates. Her hair was pulled into a bun atop her head, a green scarf wrapped snug around her neck, and dangling silver earrings caught the light whenever she moved. "Is that a warning you're going to suck at it?"

Malia snorted. "Will you hold my hand if I say yes?"

Allison grinned. "Absolutely. But if you go down, try not to take me with you."

"No promises."

"Are you two ready yet?" Lydia was already on the ice. She rested her arms over the lip of the wall, an eyebrow raised as she looked between them. She'd arrived a good half hour before they had, apparently wanting to get the 'good' ice, before all the other people had scuffed it up. Whatever that meant.

"Just about." Allison adjusted her jeans over the tops of her skates and carefully stood, testing her weight from side to side to see how steady she was. "Well?" She held a hand out to Malia.

With a heavy sigh, Malia took it, letting Allison tow her up from the bench.

"I thought you said you could skate." Lydia sniffed. "I'm not hanging around if you get sloppy and keep dragging us down."

"Sometimes your empathy is so thick, I think I'm drowning in it." Malia rolled her eyes. "It's just been a while. Anyway, if I'm taking anyone down, it's Allison."

Lydia scoffed, raising her chin in offense. "You don't think I could teach you to skate?"

"I think if you wanted to, you could get me winter Olympics ready in a weekend."

Lydia smirked smugly.

"I just prefer a softer touch." She winked at Allison, teasingly.

Lydia's brows hiked. "I've noticed."

Confused, Malia looked back at Lydia, who had released her hold no the wall and was skating backwards, away from them. Leaving her vague comment to sit and fester.

Shaking her head, Malia looked back to Allison. "Okay. Just remember that I have blades on my feet. For all intents and purposes... I am a weapon."

Amused, Allison nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."

Calmly, Allison stepped out onto the ice and swiveled around to face Malia, who stood ram-rod straight between the open gate. It wasn't that Malia had never skated. She had. It was the initial step out onto the ice that mostly freaked her out. The uncertainty over whether she would stay upright or faceplant herself on the hard, unforgiving ice.

"It's okay. I've got you," Allison promised. Her voice was steady and sure, and her expression was kind.

It settled in Malia's stomach like a lead rock. Not that she didn't appreciate Allison's approach. But that she was feeling afraid at all. That her nerves were so obvious when she could clearly see small children rushing around the ice, not entirely steady but all too sure of themselves. Letting out a frustrated breath, Malia stepped forward, her arms out to keep herself balanced. Allison kept close to her, ready to reach out and grab her if she pitched in either direction.

"You're overthinking it." Allison shook her head. "Think about something else."

"If you say 'imagine everyone in here in their underwear,' I'll call social services on you. Think of the children!"

Giving a huff of a laugh, Allison rolled her eyes. "Think about something you like or something that makes you feel strong."

"Solid ground."

"Okay... think of it like gymnastics. You hadn't been to the gym in years, but once you did, you were flipping all over the place. It's just that first few steps that are scary. But once you get past that, muscle memory kicks in." Allison skated backwards and held her hands out for Malia to take.

Malia eyed them and then slowly brought her arms forward. But just as her fingers brushed Allison's, she backed up an inch. Eyes narrowed, Malia sighed, and slowly brought her left foot forward. It was shaky, but she glided a little forward without falling.

"See?" Allison beamed at her. "Now, do it again."

Malia moved her right foot in the same fashion. She was sure she looked like a baby deer taking its first wobbling steps, but the 'not breaking her nose on the ice' part was encouraging.

At least until she saw Lydia doing majestic twirls in the background. She moved across the ice like a ballerina would a studio, with perfect balance and symmetry. It was utterly obnoxious. And enviable.

Grumbling under her breath, Malia shot a stink-eye at Lydia.

"Hey, ignore her. She's had practice." Allison waved her fingers to draw her attention. "Come on."

Taking a deep breath, Malia pushed forward. She could never quite reach Allison, but that was okay, because with each move, she felt her legs grow a little steadier, her knees stopped wobbling, her ankles felt a little more snug, and that pit in her stomach began to close. She would never be to the same standard as Lydia, but she had to admit... it was fun.

…

After a couple hours of skating, Malia's thighs were burning. Allison and Lydia were still going strong, skating circles around each other, while Malia had retired herself to the benches. She shucked her gloves and jacket, but left her scarf on. Sprawled out on her back, one skate still on while the other was abandoned to the floor, she had an arm tossed over her face and was contemplating a nap. In fact, she wasn't entirely sure she wasn't napping. At least until—

"You can't sleep here," a deep voice said.

Malia startled and raised her arm a bit to peek out at who was speaking. A tall, broad shouldered boy stood just short of her outstretched foot, wool sock sagging and a toe peeking out from a hole at the top. Dark skin and an unamused frown stared back at her. "You look familiar," she said.

"And you look like the homeless guy that sleeps behind the building."

"Are you judging me by my holy sock?" She tucked her arm behind her head and wiggled her loose toe at him.

He raised an eyebrow. "You've got one shoe on, a hole in your sock, and I think that's mustard on your shirt."

Malia lifted up the end of her shirt to see that, yeah, okay, that was mustard... In her defense, she was in a hurry to eat a hot dog before Allison picked her up for skating. "All right, mysterious guy judging my fashion and food choices... Who are you?"

"Boyd. I work here."

"Hello, Boyd Who Works Here, I'm Malia."

"I know." He stared at her a beat. "We go to the same school."

She snapped her fingers and pointed at him. "So, I do know you from somewhere."

"The halls maybe, in passing." He tucked his hands in the pocket of his hoodie and shrugged. "You're not much of a skater."

"Well, your personal skills are a little rusty, so we're even." She sat up then and bent to untie her skate, dropping it to the floor next to the other one. "So, what do you do around here, Boyd? Besides waking people up from their post-skating naps."

"I clean the ice."

Malia's eyes lit up. "Are you telling me that you have full control and access to a Zamboni?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah."

"I think we should be friends. Or very friendly acquaintances, at least."

"I'm not letting you drive the Zamboni."

"We'll see." Drawing her legs up onto the bench, Malia crossed them and rested her hands on her knees. "Do you ever skate after hours?"

He shrugged. "Sometimes, if the ice isn't too rough. It's better in here when no one's around. Quieter."

She squinted at him and nodded. "You look like a quiet guy."

"Can be."

"Not much for small talk, huh?"

"Are you?"

She grinned. "No. Not really." She stared at him a beat. Something about him was familiar, but she just couldn't put her finger on it. Maybe it was like he said, they'd seen each other in the halls in passing. "Is it almost closing time? Is that why you woke me up?"

"There's a hockey practice tonight. Free skate hours end early on Wednesdays."

Looking out to the ice, Malia found that it was really only Allison and Lydia still skating. Lydia wasn't being fancy about it anymore, simply doing wide circles, her head tipped back as she glided effortlessly.

"She's good," Boyd said.

"You don't have to rub it in." Malia rolled her eyes. "Lydia has an annoying habit of being good at most things."

"Wish I could say the same."

"Don't we all." She sighed and then turned sideway on the bench. "Hey, Sally Skaters!" She waved to get the girls' attention. "Time's up."

Allison made her way over, smiling warmly. But Lydia merely waved dismissively, deciding to do one more lap.

As Allison stepped through the gate, a little out of breath with her cheeks extra pink, Malia looked up, ready to introduce her to the low-key Boyd, only to find he'd left at some point. A surprise, given that he wasn't exactly a small guy. She thought she would've heard him as he went. Shrugging, she returned her attention to Allison. "You have fun?"

Allison nodded. "It was great." Plopping down on the bench, she slumped sideways to rest her head on Malia's shoulder. "Did you?"

"Yeah, I did." She half-smiled. "Not sure I have the same stamina as you two, but it was good."

"Lydia outskates us both."

Lydia finished off her time on the ice with a figure eight, eventually making her way to the gate to join them. Like Allison, her face was flushed. There was a brightness to her eyes that said just how much she'd enjoyed being on the ice. Joining them on the bench, she carefully unlaced her skates, a pair she'd brought with her, readjusted her socks, and pulled her regular shoes back on. "Well, what are we doing now? I'm hungry."

Malia shrugged. "I could eat."

"I want real food." Lydia unwrapped her scarf from her neck. "Not fast food."

Malia's mouth quirked. "Only the best for you, Princess."

Rolling her eyes, Lydia stood, raising an impatient eyebrow at them. "We can go to Rizzo's."

Allison looked up curiously. "Isn't that a pizza place?"

"It's Italian. They make a great pasta, too."

"Okay." Allison looked to Malia, who nodded. "Sounds good."

Pulling on her boots, Malia hopped off the bench. "I'm gonna go turn these in. I'll meet you in the parking lot."

Allison waved before bending to unlace her skates.

The front desk was basically deserted, but there was a silver bell to ring for assistance, so she tapped it a few times with her fingers and rested her crossed arms on the counter, casting her eyes around for anyone. Finally, from deep in the aisles, Boyd appeared, looking just as unenthused as ever.

"So, you run front desk and the Zamboni? Impressive."

He snorted before coming to a stop in front of her. He held his hand out for the skates, checked the number written on the inside of the tongue, and then wrote something on a clipboard. "All right. You're good to go."

"What if I never returned them? Is there like, a security tag on it somewhere?"

He blinked. "Yes. Armed guards would chase you down in the parking lot."

"With ice pistols?"

His mouth twitched and he shook his head. "We mostly work on an honor system. We take your name and address when you sign in, so it's not hard for the Sheriff's department to find you if you did run off. Why you'd want to steal used skates, I don't know."

"Sometimes people make poor life choices." She shrugged. "It'd make more sense if we had to trade our shoes in and when we brought the skates back, we got our shoes back."

"Did you want to put that in the suggestion box?"

Her eyes narrowed and she tipped her head. "Do you have a suggestion box?"

A slow grin formed. "No."

"Malia!"

She turned her head then and found Lydia staring at her with raised brows and a hand on her hip. "Today!?"

Rolling her eyes, Malia turned back to Boyd. "Enjoy your Zamboni'ing."

"I will."

Malia turned on her heel and walked over to meet Lydia. "You didn't have to wait."

"I'm starving. Every minute you waste means I'm not eating." Pulling her jacket on, she flipped her hair out from the back and marched toward the doors. "Allison's already at her car."

"I wasn't that long."

"You were long enough."

Malia sighed and followed after her. "You were pretty good out there, you know."

Lydia looked back at her and pulled a face. "What?"

"Skating. You were pretty good."

"I should be. My parents put me in professional skating classes for five years."

"Why'd you stop?"

"It was taking up too much time. School picked up and I had to choose."

Malia stared at her a moment. "You looked pretty happy."

"Who isn't happy when they're doing something they're good at?"

Shrugging, Malia pushed the door open and let Lydia out before her. "You think you would've gone pro?"

Haughty now, Lydia smirked. "Of course. But, getting a Field's medal will be an even better accomplishment."

"If you say so."

"I do."

While Lydia marched off to her car, Malia split away to walk to Allison's. Music blared as she pulled the passenger door open and hopped inside. "Sorry. Nobody was at the front desk and apparently I'm the only one around that doesn't own a pair of skates."

Allison grinned. "If we come back and you still like it, maybe it can be a birthday present."

"Well, nobody died and my legs stopped shaking eventually, so, all in all, it wasn't terrible."

Pulling out of her parking space, Allison snorted. "That's the spirit."

...

By the time Malia got home, it was already pretty late. Well past the enforced curfew, which meant Allison was in a hurry to get home before her dad got on her case about it. Malia was surprised to see her own dad home, sitting at the kitchen table eating a steaming bowl of stew, his reading glasses on and the morning newspaper open in front of him.

"Hey," she greeted, her brow furrowed.

"Hey." He laid his paper down and frowned. "You know there's a curfew, right?"

"We lost track of time. We went skating and then out to dinner and before I knew it, it was ten." She filled Shiloh's food bowl before grabbing up the empty water bowl and bringing it to the sink for a refill. "It's not that big of a deal. I doubt a mountain lion was going to chase us down at Rizzo's."

There was a pause before he asked, "You went to Rizzo's?"

"Yeah. It was Lydia's idea. She loves their chicken, mushroom linguine, fettucine, or something like that. I don't know, it was pasta. Good breadsticks, though."

"Your mom loved that place. We used to take you girls there every Tuesday. Half-off kid's pizzas."

A lump formed in Malia's throat. She switched the tap off and turned. "Yeah. I remember."

Henry stared down at his stew, stirring his spoon absently. "Was it any good?"

She nodded. "I had the pizza. Pepperoni, ham, extra—"

"Sauce. Yeah." He smiled. "They put so much on, it'd drip out, burn your chin."

"Still does." She brought Shiloh's water over and placed it by her food, where she was happily munching away. Scrubbing her fingers over Shiloh's head, she looked up at her dad. "We should go sometime, you and me... They still make that four-cheese lasagna you like, with the spinach and cottage cheese."

He nodded. "Yeah. We should." He spooned a bite of stew into his mouth and stared at the table, a divot forming between his brows. He got like that sometimes, eyes a little glazed as he drifted into memories of their family, of 'before.'

With a sigh, she turned on her heel and made her way to her bedroom, quietly closing her door behind her. There was a small desire to slam it. To wake him up out of his haunting stupor. Instead, she let him drown in it. Some people just couldn't let go.

She wondered if she was one of them.

…

Malia had just climbed into bed, finally finished her homework and eager to get some sleep, when she heard her phone buzz atop her bedside table. With a sigh, she reached for it, tucking an arm behind her head as she stared at the screen. A lone text from Scott stared back at her— 'can i call you?'

It was quickly followed by another— 'please'

Chewing her lip, she hesitated for a moment. But with a few flicks of her thumb, she'd unlocked her phone and was picking his name from her favorites list, drawing the phone back to her ear as it rang.

"Hey." His voice was quiet, as if trying not to disturb the peace. But her dad was long passed out and his mom was probably working a late shift at the hospital, so she wasn't nearly as concerned.

Tucking an arm behind her head, she said, "I guess a late-night phone call is better than you running around town whenever you need to talk."

He snorted. "It's not really 'around town' if the only place I ever go is yours."

Her mouth pulled up at the corner, but she shook her head. "What's up? Did you hear from Derek?"

"No, not yet." He paused. "How, uh, how was skating?"

"Good. Slightly demotivating. Allison and Lydia are ridiculously good at it. But, it was fun. We went to Rizzo's for dinner after."

"Rizzo's? I haven't been there in years. How was it?"

"Good. Hasn't changed much since I was a kid. I was surprised Lydia liked it. I'm pretty sure they have the same booth seats they had when I was little. They're not much into remodeling."

"I guess the food makes up for the décor."

She smiled, but it faded quick. "All right, I know you didn't call to talk about skating or Rizzo's…"

"I could've. I like hearing about your day."

Malia bit her lip and turned her gaze to the ceiling. Sometimes, Malia forgot how genuine Scott could be. How simple words could mean so much. Maybe it was leftover from feeling like her dad was never invested enough to ask how school was or what was going on in her life. Henry was trying more lately, but it was sporadic. With Scott, he meant it. And the truth was, when they weren't together, she noticed his absence. It didn't suffocate the time she had with others. When she was skating with Allison, she wasn't wishing she was somewhere else. She just wondered what it would be like to see Scott attempt skating. Would he be worse or better than her? Would he have fun? Would his new reflexes make it easy for him to move around the ice with as much grace as Lydia? Or were there some things even werewolf reflexes couldn't make up for?

"My day was good. I met someone at the rink. I don't think we'll be besties anytime soon, but he was funny."

"Yeah?" Scott paused. "Met someone like… Cole or…?"

"I mean, he basically compared me to the homeless guy that sleeps behind the rink, so I doubt he wants to hook up."

Scott snorted a laugh. "Why?"

"I fell asleep on the bench. Skating is a lot of work. And we were on the ice for a while. It was exhausting."

His voice was amused as he reminded her, "You run track."

"It's different when there are knives on your feet!"

He chuckled. "All right, if you say so."

She grinned. "Keep it up and I'll strap you into a pair of skates and see how you like it."

"I'm glad you had fun… Seems like you and Lydia are hanging out more."

"That's kind of a side effect of being friends with Allison. Just like putting up with Jackson." She pursed her lips. "It's worth it, though. Allison's great."

"Yeah, she is. She's…" He sighed. Was it wistful? She wasn't sure. "Great."

Malia closed her eyes for a moment, squeezing them shut and waiting for the awkward moment when Scott launched into a soliloquy on how amazing and perfect and special Allison was. And the worst part was that she couldn't disagree. She just didn't want to hear Scott wax poetic about her, not when things still felt a little too raw. How long was love supposed to last if it wasn't returned? Was there a 'best before' date or something? How long would it take to fade or scar over? She hated not knowing. This day-to-day stuff just wasn't working for her.

"Look, about what you said after school, I've been thinking about it… And you're right. You usually are."

Malia's brow furrowed. "What?"

"Having Derek as an enemy, avoiding him, it's not going to fix anything. I'm not sure I trust him and I hate that you're the one he always goes to, because I… I'm not there. I can't do anything if he hurts you."

"Scott—"

"No, listen. I trust you. I know that you're strong and, if any of us can take on a werewolf or an alpha or whatever, it's probably you. But that doesn't stop me from worrying about you. Lately, it feels like that's all I do. I worry about what Derek might do or this alpha or even me. And I worry about you getting caught in the crossfire or even throwing yourself right into the middle of something we can't handle. And I know it doesn't change anything, but a part of me just can't stop hoping it's going to stop. That things will go back to how they used to be. Just you, me, and Stiles. And we could leave all this werewolf stuff behind."

Malia pulled her arm out from behind her head and rubbed her hand over her forehead. "I know. Sometimes I do, too."

"You do?" He sounded surprised, maybe even confused. "But you're handling it so much better than me."

"Because I have to. Because it's better to just face it and deal with it than to hide from it."

"Yeah, you're right." He sighed. "Do you think… It's not that I don't want to catch the alpha or stop them. I do. I just… Every time I do something like this, I feel like I'm accepting it. I don't know if I can undo this. If there's a way to stop being a wolf. But when we do this stuff, when we talk to Derek or we work on my control, I just think… this is it. This is who I am now. And that scares me. Because I don't know who I am. I don't know what that makes me. And even though I want to do this and I want to keep this alpha from hurting anyone, I feel like if I do, it's over. There's no going back." He sighed. "Does that make me a bad person? Am I putting myself first? Like, the people that died just don't matter or…?"

"No. I know you care. You're physically incapable of not caring. I just think it's hard to readjust. It's not like you had a choice in this. Someone took that away from you. But… Look, Scott, you're always going to be my best friend. That was true when you were an asthmatic human and it's true now that you're a scruffy werewolf. Your new normal isn't something we can Google, so we have to ask questions and get prepared. Otherwise, we're going into this blind and that's not doing anyone any favors."

He was quiet for a long moment, the silence stretching between them. It wasn't uncomfortable. There were a thousand conversations in their past that had pauses just like this. Where the pressure to speak wasn't present, but the awareness that they were still there, tethered to each other across the distance, was a comfort.

Eventually, he broke the quiet. "You remember that night we dug up the grave outside of Derek's?"

"I don't think I'll forget it."

"We talked about how we always wanted to be superheroes when we were kids and how my power was healing… I think I chose it because of my mom. Because she saves people and I… I don't know, I just always admired that about her."

"She doesn't need powers to be a hero."

"Exactly." He took a deep breath. "Yours was always strength. And you've always been the strongest of us. Even now. I might be physically stronger, but you… Malia, you're the strongest person I know. After everything you've been through and everything that's been happening, you always get back up and you face it. When you're scared or hurt or you don't know what to do, you just take on whatever's standing in your way."

"You make me sound better than I am. I'm just human."

"That makes it more special. You can break, but you don't let yourself."

She swallowed tightly, a lump forming in her throat. "I've been broken before. I know what it feels like."

At ten years old, Malia had been a shell of herself. Prone to crying or yelling, depending on the day. She'd been lost and angry and empty. Her regrets and fears and unending grief had swallowed her whole and threatened to drown her. Some days, it felt like there was no coming back from it. But she'd dug herself up out of that pit of despair, hardened and distant, but alive. And over the years, she'd healed some. A lot more than she ever expected. The scars of her loss still ran deep, though. They clung to her, a warning and a reminder of what could happen if she got too close, wanted too much, loved too deep. Nothing was forever. Anyone could be lost.

"I know. And I know that if we're going to do this, if we're going to find or fight or just try to survive this whole alpha werewolf thing, then it has to be together. I don't want to keep running away or hiding from this. So, if I do, I want you to tell me. Because I know you'll be honest with me."

Malia nodded, her heart feeling like it was sinking to die a fiery death in her stomach acid. "Always." Except that every day she walked around with this enormous secret, knowing that her feelings for him went well beyond what they thought, it felt like she was lying to him in a way. And it hurt.

She turned over onto her side then and reached for the lamp, turning it off with a twist of her fingers. Laying the phone down on the bed, she turned the speaker on and rested her head on her pillow.

Scott's voice was quiet, a warm hum in an otherwise silent house. "I can hear your heartbeat."

"Yeah?"

"Mmhmm." He let out a soft sigh. "It sounds different."

Her eyes fell to half-mast, a tiny furrow forming between her brows. "Different? Why? Do I have a murmur or something?"

"No. Nothing like that. It just… I don't know. It doesn't sound like all the rest… Maybe it's you. Maybe you're special."

Her mouth kicked up faintly. "Maybe."

"I like it. I like that I can tell you apart from the rest." He paused. "Don't hang up, okay?"

Her eyes fell closed. "I won't." She willed herself to stay awake. "Tell me about your day. What happened at the clinic?"

He took a deep breath and launched into a story about his furry patients.

Malia listened as long as she could, eventually drifting away, his voice still full and warm in her ears.

…

The echo of a bullet woke Scott. He raised his head from his pillow, eyes foggy and body languid with clinging sleep. On the pillow next to him was his phone, still connected to Malia's. He rested his cheek against the pillow, eyes closed once more, and listened to the melodic beat of her heart, beginning to drift back to sleep. Vaguely, he remembered when he was ten years old and Sheriff Stilinski took him, Malia, and Stiles to a shooting range. He said it was to teach them about gun safety, worried that having the three of them around the house meant the likelihood of them accidentally getting their hands on one of his guns was higher. The noise was enough to startle Scott. Guns were never his thing. He wanted to be a veterinarian— to save things, not to harm them. And he'd seen his mom, how tired and rattled she was after treating a gun victim. It was different for Malia and Stiles. Malia's dad hunted, so she'd grown up around guns. And Stiles, he wanted to be an FBI agent, meaning guns were a source of interest for him.

Whatever gun had woken Scott seemed distant now, a memory or maybe even a dream. A nightmare of what had happened in the woods, with Mr. Argent and the other hunters chasing him and Derek through the trees, eager to put them down. It sent a cold chill down his back and Scott pulled his blanket up higher, hugging it around his shoulders. He sighed and shook his head, willing the memory away. He focused on his phone once more, Malia's quiet snore a familiar and lulling sound. At least until a howl broke the night and he startled, sitting up in his bed and turning a worried look toward his window. It wasn't close, but it still called for action.

Scott shoved his blanket off and dropped his legs over the side of the bed. He grabbed up a nearby pair of jeans and pulled them on while he hurried toward his bedroom door. Skipping socks, he yanked on his shoes and ran out the front door to the porch. His mom's car wasn't in the driveway, meaning she was still at work. He raced down the driveway toward the road, focused and anxious. He turned his head in either direction, listening for a sound, a sign, anything that might tell him where the howl had come from and which way he should go.

Finally, after a few minutes, he heard it again. He took off, running down the road, arms pumping at his sides. The farther he went, the more sure he was of where he was going. It was the abandoned factory section, the streets mostly empty, walls covered in old graffiti. The street lamps were more spaced out here, an area where few people wandered on purpose. There were homeless people tucked into small spaces, trying to take cover from the elements. They fled into the shadows when another gun shot rented the air, expecting danger or police, either of which were good reason to hide.

Clutter and debris were left in piles all over, broken boards and shattered windows, it gave everything an eerie look. Scott walked through a maze of walls, corrugated sheet metal as far as the eye could see. He caught a scent, damp and coppery, and followed it. There were three distinct heartbeats, one steady while the other two were quicker, panicked. A shot echoed and he pressed himself against a wall, his own heart racing. And then, the hum of an engine and a fourth heartbeat, soon followed by a familiar voice—

"Get in," Mr. Argent demanded.

A woman answered. "Not even 'hello' or 'nice to see you?'"

Argent's voice was flat and unamused, "All I've got at the moment is 'please put the assault rifle away before someone notices.'" He took a quick look around to make sure no one was around to see.

The woman scoffed. "That's the brother I love…"

Scott peeked out from behind a wall, his brow furrowed. Argent and the woman stood facing each other in front of the headlights of a black SUV, the same one that had run Scott down the night of the game. The woman was a few inches shorter than Argent, long wavy hair falling down her back, a large and intimidating gun hooked over her shoulder by a strap.

"Chris, there were two of them."

Argent walked toward her, hand resting atop a gun on his hip. "The alpha?"

"I don't know, but one of them tried to kill me."

Scott cocked his head, his brow furrowed.

"One of them is gonna lead us to the other. He can't do that if he's dead."

"Well, I can't help kill either of them if one of them kills me first."

Argent sighed and looked away for a moment, scrubbing a hand over his chin. "How long will it take?"

The woman shrugged. "I'd give him 48 hours… if that."

Scott's eyes widened.

The woman walked past Argent then, making her way to the SUV. Argent followed a moment later, making his way to the driver's side door and yanking it open.

As the SUV pulled back, the headlights bounced around the dark alleyway. Scott pulled back, hiding around the corner once more. Chest tight and stomach bottoming out, he turned and made his way back in the direction he'd come, already regretting having left the warm comfort of his bed at all. The weight of what he knew dragged his shoulders down. If the woman, who appeared to be Argent's sister, had shot the alpha, did that mean this was over? Or worse, was it just starting? What did she mean by forty-eight hours? He had so many questions and no idea who to ask them to. Derek? The woman said there were two wolves. Did that mean Derek was there or someone else? The hard truth was that Scott knew so little about werewolves that he had no idea what he was dealing with. Could a single bullet kill a werewolf? Did it have to be silver or was that a myth?

When he finally got back to his place, he was exhausted, physically and mentally. A leaden weight formed in his stomach and his chest felt tight with worry. He shucked his jeans once more and climbed into bed, pulling the blanket up, hands gripped tight in the fabric. It was only when he felt it tear under his claws that he realized he'd partly shifted. Taking a deep breath, he let it out shakily.

"Star Wars, burnt cookie, eyelash, red shirt."

He whispered it to himself, over and over, hands twisting in his blanket. And then—

Thump-thump-thump.

Scott opened his eyes and turned his head. Atop one of his pillows was his phone, Malia sleeping peacefully on the other end.

He reached for it, brow furrowed, and watched as his claws slowly reverted to his normal nails. Picking it up, he placed his phone on his chest and concentrated. Pushing every question and worry out of his mind, Scott closed his eyes and focused solely on her. No guns, no werewolves, no hunters or alphas. There was only her heart, echoing so loudly that he might as well have had his ear pressed to it. As he slipped into that hazy space right before sleep, he could imagine just that. Her palm, warm on the nape of his neck, fingers tangled in his hair. His head resting on her chest, ear hovering right atop her heart. His arm spread across her waist, fingers hooked around the flare of her hip, tangled in the fabric of her shirt. The scent of her, floral and familiar, a comfort that wraps itself around him. The heat of her body sinking into his, chasing any sign of a chill.

It took a few minutes, but eventually, he could hear their hearts fall into sync; strong and steady.

Tomorrow, he'd have to face reality, which included the fact that Allison's aunt had a gun meant specifically for people just like him, and she probably wouldn't hesitate to put him in the ground. But today, tonight, in this moment, there was just him and Malia.

Thump-thump-thump…

tbc

author's note: it's been a very long week. thank you to everyone who sent me congratulations on my graduation, i appreciate it. :) i'm going to keep the author's note short this time around, because it's late and i need to be up for work entirely too soon. i haven't had a chance to respond to reviews yet, i spent much of the weekend catching up on some much needed rest. but i will be getting to them this week, as well as to any reviews i get for this chapter, so keep an eye out and thank you all so much for being so consistent with your reviewing, it's such a big encouragement! i hope you were all pleasantly surprised to see boyd this chapter, i had a ton of fun writing him!

things to look forward to next chapter: a ton of friendship- malia/scott/stiles, malia/allison, malia/danny; malia/cole flirting; MELISSA; and injured derek!

thanks so much for reading, please try to leave a review!
- Lee | Fina