let me break (the walls that surround me)

by Tarafina

Life as Malia Tate knows it takes a swan dive when her best friend Scott is bitten by a werewolf. Toss in her growing feelings for him, a lurky Derek Hale, a budding friendship with Allison, and a need to protect everything she cares about, even at the cost of herself, and Malia has a tough road ahead of her. [season one rewrite - Malia was there from the beginning]

23. lunatic 1

word count: 17,480
polyvore: username is 'sarcasticfina' - check under Collections for one named after this story to see all of Malia's fashion choices
episodes: 1x08 - lunatic

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XXIII

Malia stared out the window of the Camaro at the passing scenery; a blur of trees and road signs, briefly lit by the headlights and the moon above. There was no destination in mind. Just away. Out of sight. Somewhere they wouldn't be spotted. She felt like they were on the run, and she wasn't sure what from. The police, the Argents, the moon? Or, more simply, the truth. The answers to the questions that were stirring in her guts enough that she felt nauseous. Was it anticipation or fear of what she might find out?

Derek cleared his throat beside her. "Your dad came home."

A statement, not a question. Said casually, too. As if she should expect that he would keep an eye out. Or maybe this was his way of making small-talk. She wasn't even kind of surprised that he sucked at it. Of course he picked a landmine of a subject... Only, she wasn't going to let him.

"Where were you?" She shifted in her seat, glancing at him before turning her gaze forward, to the winding road ahead. "After you left the school, where'd you go?"

"Home first. What's left of it," he muttered bitterly. "Rested for a little while, tried to heal up, but then I heard the sirens and the cars coming. There aren't a lot of reasons why the cops would come looking for me, so, I left. Laid low for a while."

"And the note? When did you leave that?"

"Yesterday. I dropped by your house, but you weren't there." His fingers drummed against the steering wheel. "Figured it was smarter to leave a note than hang around and hope you were the only one to come back to the house."

She snorted. "Why? You think Stiles is going to turn you in to his dad?"

He raised an eyebrow, his mouth ticked up faintly. "He's done it before."

Malia rolled her eyes. "Yeah, when we found a dead body in your yard. The difference now is that we know you aren't the alpha and that's who was chasing us through the school."

"And who you chased into the woods." Derek stared at her. "I wasn't expecting a coyote."

Malia clenched her teeth before grinding out, "Yeah. Neither was I."

His gaze cut away. "I wasn't sure. I had suspicions, but—"

"Bullshit."

Derek paused.

"You knew. You definitely knew." She glared at him. "From the very beginning, right?"

After a beat, Derek pulled the car over to the side of the road, turning it off and sitting back. "We can sense when someone isn't completely human. There was something about you, something that stood out. I could tell you were a shifter, but I also knew you hadn't turned yet. That it was... dormant." He shook his head slowly. "For someone your age, that's rare. It's different for everybody, but most naturally born shifters turn at puberty, sometimes younger... I thought maybe it was because you didn't know you were a shifter."

Her brow furrowed. "So, what, you were just waiting for something to trigger me?"

"Sort of."

"What does that mean? Were you going to trigger me?"

"It doesn't work like that. Not really." He frowned. "Born shifters look forward to it. It's a rite of passage. We have ceremonies and celebrations and..." He sighed. "You were still figuring this stuff out. You were supporting Scott and learning about what it meant to be a werewolf. But we also had the alpha to worry about. So, yes, I was hoping you would shift, and soon. Because I could use your help."

That was the crux of it, wasn't it? That to him, her turning was just a tool. An advantage. When to her it was life altering. "What about what I want? What I need? You think any of this is easy? You were raised in this world, Derek. I wasn't! I was figuring it out for Scott. Because this was his new reality. It wasn't supposed to be mine!"

"Except it was." His voice was firm and knowing and it only served to piss her off. "It was always going to be this way. It was only sped up because—"

"Because the Alpha was mauling my best friend right in front of me. Because I thought he was going to die. And I reacted. I had to do something and so I—"

"You let instinct take over. Your instinct was to protect and so your shifter side came out to do that." His eyes met hers searchingly. "There's always a lead up. Some part of you had to notice something was different. Maybe your eyes were getting better or you were getting faster or you could hear things you couldn't hear before. But all of this, from the very beginning, has just been one big event from triggering you. I'm surprised the attack at the video store didn't do it."

Malia took a deep breath and sat forward, hunching her shoulders and rubbing her hands over her face. "How did it happen? That's the part I don't get. You keep saying I'm a born shifter. That means one of my parents has to be one, too. Right?"

Derek grew quiet.

After a few seconds, she looked up and turned a frown on him. "You said you'd answer my questions."

"I don't have all the answers yet."

Her eyes narrowed. "But you know more than you're telling me."

He pressed his lips flat.

Malia let out a scoffing laugh and shoved the door open. She climbed out, slamming the door behind her, and walked into the field. The grass was long, enough that it brushed her fingertips as her hands hung limp at her sides. She walked away from him, not entirely sure where she was going or what she was doing, just that she needed some distance.

It wasn't long before she heard him get out of the car, too. His approach was slower, giving her time to acclimate. But all it did was make her feel like an animal he was trying not to spook.

She whirled around to face him, angry and stubborn. "I helped you."

Derek met her fierce gaze and nodded, his hands tucked in the pockets of his jacket.

"When Scott and Stiles thought we couldn't trust you, when they told me to stay away from you, when they were so sure that you were the Alpha, that you turned Scott— I still talked to you. I still listened to what you had to say."

He nodded again.

"When you had nowhere to go, when Kate was hunting you, I let you stay in my home. In Kylie's room!"

His throat bobbed as he swallowed.

Malia felt her eyes burn. "And even when you wouldn't tell me everything, when you'd only give me bits and pieces of the story, scraps of information, I still trusted you."

"I know."

"Then why?" She threw her hands up. "Why would you lie to me about this? Why wouldn't you tell me?"

He didn't answer.

Angry now, she bared her teeth at him, long and sharp and far from human. "You were supposed to be my friend!"

He didn't look surprised, didn't even flinch. He stayed calm and composed. "I am your friend."

"No, you aren't." She marched toward him, her chest heaving and her heart beating too quick. "I have friends. Good friends. Amazing friends. And none of them would keep this from me."

"No? Because you tell them everything, right?" His voice started to raise, the first sign that he wasn't as unmoved by this as he appeared. "You never lie to them? Not even to keep them safe?"

Her brow furrowed. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"What about Allison, Malia? What about the secret you're keeping from her, huh?" He stared at her knowingly, his eyebrows hiked. "What about Erica and Jackson? Do they still think it was a cougar that attacked them?"

"That's different."

He smiled sarcastically. "How?"

"Because it's not about them! It's not who they are. They don't have to be afraid of what they might do or who they might hurt. They don't have to wonder what could have happened if they'd shifted in the supermarket or at school where anybody could've been hurt. They don't have to be afraid they're going to turn into an animal and never be human again!" She shoved at his chest, making him stumble back. "Do you know what that was like? My entire body felt like it was turning inside out. My skin felt like it was tearing open. And then I was just stuck there. The coyote had complete control of everything I was doing. She attacked the Alpha, but I'm the one who had to taste its blood in my mouth. She chased the Alpha into the woods, ready to fight it and kill it, and after that, she was just going to live out there. Away from everyone and everything. That's what she wants! She doesn't want me. She doesn't want to be human. She wants to hide. And now every time something sets me off, when the full moon comes on Monday, I'm going to be scared that she's going to do it again. Only maybe this time, she wins, and I don't come back."

"I didn't know—"

"This is my life." Her voice cracked. "Do you get that?"

His gaze dropped away.

"When Scott turned, I wanted to be there. I wanted to help him. So, if that meant talking to you, if that meant getting into your car and dealing with your shady, monosyllabic bullshit, then fine. At least I knew that you were trying, that you wanted to help. That you weren't the bad guy."

"Has that changed?"

"You tell me."

Derek stared at her. It took him a moment, but eventually, he admitted, "I'm not used to this. I'm not used to answering to people. For the last six years, all I had was Laura. And now I'm alone. Now, I have no one. So, excuse me if I'm not braiding best friend bracelets for us. But, I do trust you. That's why I come to you. That's why I'm trying to tell you what you need to know."

"But you aren't. You're still hiding something from me. I can tell!"

He clenched his teeth. "What I know for sure is that you were born this way. This wasn't the Alpha. You're a werecoyote. And the fact that you can shift completely is a gift." He held his hands up, expecting her offended scoff. "It doesn't seem like it now, but it will one day. There aren't a lot of shifters who can do it. My mom and my sister were the only two I ever met. I know there are others, but they're rare. In our culture, that's an honor. And I know that you have some problems with that. I'll help you as much as I can. But, Malia... Just like with Scott, you're going to have to accept this. There's no turning back. There's no turning it off. This is who you are and it's who you were always meant to be."

Malia wanted to lash out. She wanted to push and shove and hurt him. But instead, her mouth trembled, her hands shook, and her heart squeezed. "Why?"

Something soft and knowing crossed his face then. Drawing his hands out from his pockets, he walked to her, and reached out, taking her shoulders. "You're strong. You'll get through this."

Dragging in a thick, shaking breath, she shook her head. "Was it my mom? Did I just never notice?"

He didn't say anything; he didn't confirm or deny it. Instead, he pulled her forward and into a hug. Malia wondered if that was better or worse. Was her mom a werecoyote that whole time and she just didn't know? Did she keep it hidden from her or all of them? Did her dad know? He would've said something, wouldn't he? It was hard to imagine that her mom had a secret that big. But that was the only way, right? It had to be her mom. Because her dad... He didn't have the self-control to be a shifter. Not unless the drinking helped subdue it somehow. She doubted that, though.

Derek patted her back a little roughly and she wondered how long it had been since he showed any kind of affection. Or maybe that was how it was with shifters.

A good minute passed before she started to pull away, reaching up to rub her sleeves over her face, sniffling loudly. "This doesn't mean I forgive you."

His mouth curled faintly. "Wouldn't expect it to be that easy."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm glad you aren't dead in a ditch somewhere, though."

Derek nodded. "You wanna tell me why everyone seems to think I'm the one that attacked the school?"

Her lips pursed. "A slip of the tongue, mostly."

His eyes narrowed.

"The police needed a suspect. Scott and Stiles thought you were dead—"

"So, they said it was me?" He took a deep breath and shook his head. "They couldn't just say it was a stranger? That they hadn't seen their face?"

Malia shrugged. "People were asking questions. Scott panicked. He said it was you. If it makes you feel better, not everybody's convinced. Danny and Erica seem to think it was someone else. They're not saying who, just that you don't make a whole lot of sense. Even Allison is a little on the fence."

"Great. That doesn't stop the police from trying to track me down."

"Scott can say it was someone else, that maybe he didn't get the best look at the attacker. But they're still going to want you to come in for questioning."

"Yeah, and since my blood is probably all over that place, they're going to know I was there. And then they're going to wonder where that blood came from when I'm clearly not hurt." He groaned. "This is ridiculous."

"In their defense, you were apparently skewered by the Alpha."

"And I healed." He let out a long-suffering sigh. "This is going to complicate things, you know? I can't move around here like I used to. They're going to be looking for me. Which means I also can't go home. Not for a while yet."

Malia crossed her arms and shrugged. "So, what are you going to do?"

He kicked at the ground. "I'll figure it out."

She hummed, and then stared at him a beat. "Scott and I have been practicing. Basic defense mostly. But also just testing what we can do now."

"How's that going?"

She shrugged. "He doesn't want to hurt me, so he holds back."

"You don't like that."

"I can't learn that way. The other stuff helps, but I need to know that I can handle myself in a fight."

Derek nodded. "What are you doing Sunday?"

"Ice skating with Allison and Lydia."

"Until when?"

She shrugged. "They're staying over tomorrow night. We'll probably go to the rink early."

"Text me after. We can meet up. I'll teach you."

Malia blinked, mildly surprised. "Teach me what?"

He started backing up, toward the car. "Everything I know."

"What, in an afternoon?" Snorting, she followed him. "Either you don't know much or you think I'm a fast learner."

Derek laughed under his breath. "We'll go with the second one."

---

…

---

When Malia returned home, her dad's truck was still missing. Letting out a frustrated sigh, she rolled her eyes. For a split second, she'd kind of hoped he was being serious about turning his life around. Now, she wasn't so sure.

"Did he explain where he went?" Derek wondered.

Malia shook her head. "Not really. Just showed back up, said he was sorry for... everything and that he was going to be better."

"Do you believe him?"

She chewed her lip. "I want to."

"But, you don't."

Almost defensively, she said, "He doesn't exactly have a great track record."

Derek hummed. "Has he ever lied to you?"

She paused and looked over at him. "Not directly... Last time, when I had to stay with Scott, he just said that things would be better when he got back. And they were, for a while."

"Addictions are hard to kick. Even with the best intentions." Derek's words were measured, but the weight of them made it sound like he was speaking from personal experience. It made her wonder.

"Can shifters even get addicted?"

"Not to alcohol. Our metabolism burns through it too quickly."

"But to other things?"

"There are herbs that affect us, if you know how to use them. But drugs aren't the only thing a person can get addicted to." He paused. "Power, winning, killing, adrenaline... people."

"People?"

"Love... or what you think is love..." His brow knit and he stared ahead, something haunted about his expression. "It can make people do crazy things."

Malia's gaze fell, resting on the dashboard. "Yeah, well, my dad's human and I'm not sure he'll be kicking alcohol anytime soon."

"You could try giving him the benefit of the doubt." He shrugged. "Doesn't mean you have to expect perfection. Maybe just trying is enough for now."

"Maybe." Unbuckling her seat belt, she shifted to see him. "Where are you staying tonight?"

"I've got a place. It's not perfect, but it'll work for now."

"Vague, but whatever." She pushed the door open then and hopped out. "Try not to die or get arrested and I'll see you Sunday."

With that, she closed the door and made her way to the house. Climbing the porch, she dug her keys out to let herself inside. The house was quiet and empty outside of Shiloh's faint snoring. Kicking her shoes off, Malia shut and locked the door before making her way to her bedroom. Shedding her clothes for a pair of comfy pajamas, she climbed into bed and grabbed her phone.

She sent Stiles a third 'Green' text and then thumbed open Scott's last message— 'your dad is at my place… he's talking to my mom'

Malia felt a weight lift off her chest and breathed a sigh of relief. She texted back— 'i saw him earlier. didn't know he was headed to your place tho.'

A bubble appeared, showing Scott was typing something back. It disappeared abruptly, no message attached, and she frowned. And then her phone rang. Rolling her eyes, she answered it. "Hey."

"Hey. Figured it was easier to just call you."

"Probably." She shifted onto her back and turned speaker phone on, resting it on her chest so she wouldn't have to hold it up. "What time did he show up, do you remember?"

"A couple hours ago. He wasn't here long. Mom left, too." He paused. "She said something about a meeting... My dad went to those for a while. He might still, actually. I don't know."

"AA," she said knowingly. "He tried that last time. But then he'd get busy and stopped going."

"Maybe it'll be different this time."

Malia inhaled deeply. Deciding to change the subject, she told him, "I talked to Derek."

"How'd it go?"

She frowned. "I yelled a lot. But, mostly good."

"Does he think it was your mom?"

"He didn't say. He was kind of tight-lipped. He's not happy about the police looking for him either, but..." She shrugged. "I don't know. He said he could always tell. That shifters can feel it when someone is like them... Did you feel anything when you were around me?"

"I'm still figuring a lot of this stuff out. If I did, I don't think I would've known what it was."

"Yeah, that's what I thought." She stared at the ceiling. "Did you know natural born shifters have parties when they shift for the first time? Derek said it was a celebration." Her brow furrowed. "I keep wondering what it would've been like. If it was my mom and she told me eventually, would it be different? Maybe I would've shifted when I was younger. Maybe I could've helped you more if I knew what it was like."

"You helped me a lot already."

Malia's mouth kicked up at the corner. "I know, but... I just think it'd be different if she was here. A lot of things would."

Scott hummed. "What else did he say?"

"That shifting into a full coyote was rare and a gift and blah, blah, blah. It doesn't feel like a gift. It feels like a curse."

"You didn't look so cursed today, when we were training."

She snorted. "It was fun."

"Yeah, it was." He paused before adding, "I liked running with you."

Malia's mouth inched up in a smile. "Me, too. We can do it tomorrow if you want. Allison and Lydia will be over later. We're going to a party at Danny's. But my morning is free."

"Uh, yeah, I'm up for that. What time's good?"

"How much are you going to sleep in?"

He laughed, a rumble from his chest. "How's ten?"

"Ten works." A yawn caught her off guard then, wide enough that she felt her jaw crack. "I should get some sleep."

"Okay." He paused. "You're okay, though? After your dad and then Derek..."

Malia nodded, despite knowing he couldn't see her. "It's been a pretty emotional night, but yeah, I think I'm okay."

"Good."

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay. Goodnight."

"Night."

After hanging up, Malia plugged her phone in and placed it on her bedside table. Considering Stiles hadn't immediately texted back, she figured he'd fallen asleep at some point. Flipping her lamp off, she rolled over and hugged her pillow. Closing her eyes, she focused on her breathing and not turning over the emotionally draining conversations of the last few hours. But, her mind wouldn't cooperate, and instead she spent a good hour just stuck in her head, wondering what else Derek knew and whether her dad really would put some long-term effort into things.

It was almost midnight when she heard the rattling noise of her dad's truck coming down the road. Eyes open, she stared at her wall, lit by a shaft of moonlight, and waited. She listened to the radio cut out and the engine shut down, the creak of his door opening and the crunch of gravel under his boots. He mumbled under his breath as he walked up the driveway and crossed the porch. The old wood slats whined under his steps, singing their age and a lifetime of neglect. His keys jangled as he unlocked the door and she heard the distinct click as he turned on the lights in the living room.

Even from a distance, she could smell him. Irish Spring soap, stale coffee, and mint gum. But, surprisingly, not a whiff of alcohol. She listened to him move around the living room for a while, waiting for the tell-tale crack of him opening a can of beer or twisting the cap off a bottle, but it never came. He took a seat on the couch, flipped on the television, and just relaxed. After a while, he patted the couch to invite a sleepy but awake Shiloh up to sit with him. And that was where he stayed; sober and clearly distracted.

Malia let her eyes fall closed once more. This time, it was a little easier to fall asleep.

---

…

---

Malia knew these woods like the back of her hand. All ten years of her life had been spent in or around them. Her mom loved to take them on hikes; crossing logs, hopping atop rocks, sloshing through ankle-deep creeks, they navigated the woods like all of it was their backyard. When Malia was old enough, she was allowed to venture out into the woods without her parents there to watch her. Kylie was always right at her heels, following wherever she went. There were places Malia wasn't supposed to go. She couldn't cross the highway, for one. And she wasn't allowed to walk too far in any one direction, otherwise it'd grow too dark for her to see where she was going when it was time to come home. Malia had favorite places in the woods; clearings and trees and caves she liked to visit. She learned early what kind of berries she could and couldn't eat, which bushes would make her itchy and which were harmless, and she had her fair share of scrapes and bruises, twisted ankles and broken bones. But, she persevered.

She knew where she was going now and her legs never slowed as she ran and ran and ran. She crossed a creek in three quick strides, over a mossy fallen log that her mom always warned her was too loose and unstable for her to be walking on. She ran through the long grass and the wildflowers, their petals closed for the night. Lightning bugs left their perches and filled the sky, but she paid them no mind. Her heart was racing so fast and so hard it made her chest hurt. Or maybe that was something else. The vice around her heart wouldn't let up and she had a feeling that when she got to where she was going, it would only get stronger.

Her dad had tried to grab her before she ran. He'd shouted her name and raced after her, fingers grabbing at the back of her overalls, trying to snag her and draw her back. But, he'd been too slow. Probably because he'd had to get up off his knees to chase after her, which gave her a good head start.

She was fast. That's what her mom always told her. 'You've got two fast feet under you, Ladybug. You better use them.'

And she did. Malia ran whenever and wherever she could. She liked how the wind felt on her face and blowing through her hair. How her lungs squeezed with each deep gulp of air. But she'd never run like this before. Never run so fast it almost felt like she was flying. The ground was solid underneath her, but she was going a lot farther than she ever had. Her legs almost felt numb, but they never slowed.

She could hear the noise now.

Sirens and a loud, grinding noise. It made her stomach hurt.

She broke through the trees and stumbled to a stop. There were police everywhere, shouting instructions at each other, too far and too busy to notice her. There was an ambulance and a fire truck and a tow truck, too. A silver car was turned over in the middle, gouged earth all around it. A tree was broken, laying half on top of the car, and a road sign was flat on the ground, twisted metal sticking out from the ground.

Malia clenched her hands into tiny fists and tried to catch her breath. Her lungs squeezed, but not in the way she liked. Her chest ached and her eyes burned and her throat felt like fire.

That was her car.

That was her mom's car.

The same car she'd watched drive away just minutes after yelling at her mom and her sister, 'I hate you! And I hope you die!'

Malia stared at gnarled metal. The door was caved in on one side and missing on the other. The windshield was blown out, the windows cracked or shattered completely. She could see a doll, her sister's doll, laying in the dirt. There was something red on its head. Like juice or paint or— blood.

Malia's knees shook and she gulped in air. She gulped and gulped but her lungs still screamed. They squeezed and twisted and filled with a sound that wouldn't leave, burning and clawing its way up her throat. Her legs gave out and she dropped to the ground. And then her mouth was open, ready to let that terrible, awful scream out, only it didn't get a chance to.

Suddenly, someone was holding her; arms banded around her body and a shroud covered her eyes. Malia was turned around abruptly, away from the car, from the doll, from everything. She kicked and screamed and tried to get free, but she couldn't. She tried and tried, but eventually, her body gave up. She went limp, exhausted and lost and so many other things. Thing she didn't have names for; things she'd never felt before.

The arms loosened around her and whoever it was holding her, moved. They shifted to kneel in front of her, their hands still carefully gripping Malia's arms, holding her up. It was a woman with long, dark hair, freckles on her cheeks, and tears in her brown eyes. When she smiled, her lips trembled.

"Malia," she said, staring at her searchingly. "Malia, can you hear me?"

Malia stared at her.

The woman shook her head. "Why did you come here?"

"My mom," she croaked. "And Kylie. The police officer said..." She tried to turn her head, to see the car, the police, the ambulance.

"Don't. Don't look." A hand caught Malia's chin, holding her still. "You shouldn't have come here. This isn't how you want to remember them."

Malia's eyes blurred as tears filled them. "I want my mom... I want Kylie."

"I know. Shh, hey, I know. I'm so... I'm so sorry. I didn't know. If I could change it... If I could bring them back..." The woman drew her forward then, hugging Malia tight to her, her hand shakily brushing through Malia's hair. "Okay. Okay, here's what we're going to do... I'm going to bring you home. Your dad is probably very worried. And you're going to forget this, okay? You shouldn't remember them like this."

Malia's brow furrowed. "What?"

She leaned back then and smiled at Malia again, her own cheeks damp and her eyes red-rimmed. "I wasn't much older than you when I lost my mom. I wasn't ready. I don't think we ever really are. But it's harder when we see it. When we know what that looks like. I don't want that for you. I want you to remember your mom how she was. Not like this. Not this place." She shook her head and brushed Malia's hair back from her face. "You know your mom loved you, right? And Kylie, your sister. She loved you, too."

Malia nodded.

"Think about them, okay? Think about only them."

Malia's chin shook. "But I said something bad. I didn't mean it."

"It's okay. I think they'd forgive you."

Tears dribbled down Malia's cheeks. "I didn't say sorry."

The woman swallowed tightly. "Sometimes, we forgive people even when they don't say sorry. Because we know who they are in their hearts. And we know that even though they make mistakes and they say things that hurt, they don't mean them."

Malia nodded slowly.

The woman reached around to Malia's nape and in the same moment that Malia felt a pinching sensation there, enough to make her wince and jerk, she saw the bright red glow of the woman's eyes. Malia's mouth opened— to gasp or scream or shout, she wasn't sure. But nothing came. Her vision blacked out and the noise of everything behind her, of the people and the sirens, it all went away.

When Malia next opened her eyes, she was moving. She turned her head, her sleepy gaze falling on a woman. Or, the underside of her chin, at least. That, and the trees. High above, their reaching branches blotted out the sky. Slivers of moonlight trying desperately to penetrate through. And then, wood. The familiar sight of her porch roof stared back at her.

The woman carried her to a cushioned bench and placed her down on top of it. She knelt in front of Malia, whose eyes were just barely cracked open. Brushing her fingers through Malia's hair, she rubbed a gentle thumb against her cheek. "One day... I'll explain everything. And I hope you forgive me." With that, the woman dropped a quiet kiss on Malia's head, stood, and left.

Malia watched her disappear into the trees like a ghost. There and gone.

Her eyes drifted closed then and when they would open, she wouldn't remember the crash site or the woman who took her away from it. The last thing she would remember would be her father falling to his knees as the police officer told him that his wife and his daughter had died in an accident.

---

…

---

Malia's eyes shot open and she gulped in a deep breath of air. Her body shuddered, and she stared, wide-eyed, at— the sky? Blinking wildly, she looked around, and abruptly realized that she was not, in fact, tucked comfortably in her bed at home. No, she was in the woods. Specifically, she was at the site of the accident. And she was buck naked.

Malia hugged her arms around herself as she looked around wildly, her hair tangled, twigs and leaves stuck to it. She looked down at herself, confused, and found that her hands and feet were covered in a dark, dried mud. Gritting her teeth, she realized with a snarl that she must've shifted in her sleep and come back out here. Hadn't Scott said that he'd shifted once and woken up in the middle of the woods? At least he'd been dressed. She wasn't so lucky.

Pulling herself together, she pushed up from the ground, and took a look around. It was early. Enough that the sun was just barely lighting the sky. The odds of running into anyone were slim to none. That wasn't going to make the trek back to her house, completely naked, any better, though. Sighing, she turned on her heel and marched into the trees. The sooner she got home, the better.

As she started walking at a fast clip, her mind was caught between her current predicament and her strange dream. The woman who'd found her was familiar, but she just couldn't put her finger on why... She was a shifter, obviously. An alpha, to be specific. But was it all just a weird dream or something more than that? Had Malia really run off and found herself at the crash site when she was a kid? Did that woman find her? And if she had, why? How did she know Malia or her family?

Malia spent the whole walk home turning those questions over but found no answers. She crawled through her bedroom window and made her way to her bathroom to shower off the forest. It was unnerving, just like it had been before. She had no recollection of leaving her room and becoming the coyote. Was it always going to be like this? At least this time she didn't have to feel the pain of the transformation…

The bathtub was left with a grimy ring around the bottom, a collection of twigs and leaves she would eventually have to toss away. Exhausted, she put it on her mental to-do list and left her bathroom to pull on some pajamas and get some sleep. Crawling into bed, she checked the time on her phone. It was almost seven. She could sleep for another two hours. Pulling the blanket up high, she closed her eyes and hoped that when she opened them, she'd still be in her bed.

---

…

---

Malia woke up groggy. Like she hadn't had much sleep at all. Given her strange dream and where she'd woken up the first time, she wasn't so sure she had. Kicking off her blankets, she pulled herself out of bed despite the bone-deep protest of her body. All she wanted to do was turn around, face plant into her pillow, and go right back to sleep. But it was a little after nine and she needed to get up and dressed. Scott would be there soon for them to go on their run.

Scrubbing a fist over her crusty eyes, Malia's feet dragged as she went through her morning process. She traded her pajamas for a pair of running pants and a tank top and tucked her phone in the pocket of her running jacket. Pulling on a pair of socks, she carried her running shoes with her, the backs hooked on her crooked fingers.

The sight in her kitchen was unexpected and, thus, jarring. Her dad was not only awake, but up and walking around, even whistling to himself. There were grocery bags on the counter, some of them full to bursting, others empty and stacked together. The pantry door was open and she could see from her vantage point that was three brand new boxes of cereal, Kraft Dinner, dry pasta, pancake mix, jars of pasta sauce, and a collection of canned foods lining the shelves. The fridge door was held open by Henry's extended leg as he passed things from the counter into the fridge. Condiments, juice, milk, eggs, cheese, fruit. She wasn't sure her fridge had ever been this full, at least not since her mother's death. Rarely, if ever, did Henry let it get empty, but it was never quite this bright with a variety of food to pick from. They tended to stick to the basics and she made due. This was something else. Progress, a small, hopeful voice whispered in her head.

"Does Walmart know you cleaned them out?"

Henry looked up, his eyebrows arched, and a slow, hesitant smile pulled up one corner of his mouth. "You won't rat me out if I say no, will you?"

Malia shrugged and tucked her hands in the pockets of her jacket. "You're up early."

"So are you." He eyed her quickly. "Going for a run?"

She nodded. "Yeah. With Scott. He'll be here soon."

"Oh." He paused. "I was hoping I could make us breakfast. Nothing fancy. Just pancakes, some bacon. Or sausages. Which one do you like?"

"Either's fine." She stared at him a beat. "I don't know how long we'll be."

"Why don't you text me on your way back and I'll get the food going?" He let the fridge door close and moved to the empty bags, gathering them up and tying them in knots to be tucked under the sink for later use. Her mom used to hate that. She was a staunch fabric bag user and brought hers with her every time she went to a store. She kept them in her trunk so she wouldn't forget them. Henry never remembered, not until he was at the counter paying and they asked if he wanted paper or plastic.

"Malia?"

"Hm?" She shook herself out of her memory and turned to him. "What?"

"I said you can invite Scott to breakfast, if it'll make you feel better."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I know you're still mad at me, I get it, and things feel awkward right now. They might for a while. But if having Scott around helps you feel less awkward, then bring him along."

She chewed the inside of her cheek. "Maybe. I'll see."

"Okay." He drummed his fingers on the countertop. "But you'll text me on your way home? We haven't had pancakes in a while. I was gonna pick up some strawberries, too, but a guy in produce told me they were out of season, they'd probably taste a little sour. He suggested chocolate chips." He smiled then. "I used to make smiley faces with them, you remember that? And then I'd slice up banana and you and Kylie, you'd always use the banana pieces to give your pancakes hair and mustaches."

Malia nodded slowly. "I remember."

"Too old for that now, I guess."

She shrugged. "Never too old for chocolate chips."

He smiled softly. "Good."

A knock at the door drew her eye then and Malia crossed the floor to it. Swinging it open, she found a grinning Scott standing on her porch. "Hey."

"Hi." She glanced back at her dad. "I'll text you in a while."

"All right. Have a good run." He leaned to the side to get a look at Scott and waved. "Good morning, Scott."

"Hey, Mister Tate."

Malia stepped out onto the porch, called out a hasty 'bye,' and pulled the door closed.

"He looks good," Scott noted. "Uh, you know, well-rested."

She rolled her eyes. "You mean not drunk?"

He paused and then nodded. "That, too."

"Come on. We'll stretch and then we'll head for the lookout." She walked down the stairs to the driveway, passing his bike as she went. "Dad invited you to breakfast, if you want. It's probably gonna be banana chocolate chip pancakes because he's on a nostalgia kick or something."

Scott grinned. "Cool."

"You don't have to come if you don't want to. It might be weird."

"For you or me?"

"For everyone." She sighed. "He's being weird. I'm being weird. And you'll just be caught in the middle of it."

Scott shrugged. "I can do that."

She looked over at him, her brow knit. "Really?"

"Are you kidding? You had me at banana chocolate chip pancakes."

Snorting, she gave his shoulder a shove. "Whatever."

"Seriously though... If you want me there, I'll be there."

Malia paused her steps and turned to him. "I do."

"Then I'm there." He grinned then. "Race you to the trail."

As he took off running, Malia shook her head. A burst of warmth bloomed in her chest as she gave chase.

---

…

---

Out of breath and sweating, Scott felt amazing. Every time he exerted himself, he waited for that tell-tale pinch in his lungs, that closing sensation of his throat, and the sudden and consuming swamping feeling that came with realizing his asthma was back to interfere with his life. Only, it never came. Malia pushed his limits, even past what his new abilities were used to, and there was a burn in his chest. But it felt good. It mixed with the adrenaline pumping through him to the point where he felt light on his feet and capable of anything.

"You look happy." Malia stared up at him from her seat on the grass, one leg stretched out while the other was curved in, her foot planted against her thigh as she stretched. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair a little messy, but she looked content, too.

"I am." Scott's hands settled on his hips. "When I was a kid and my lungs would start to hurt, I think it was the look on my mom's face that scared me more... She was always so strong, so when she freaked out, it made it even worse. Like, it had to be serious or she wouldn't look like that." He shook his head. "And now... I don't have to worry about that, which is weird, but also maybe one of the best parts of any of this. I— I don't have to worry that one day, I'm just not going to catch my breath, no matter how hard I try. My lungs are better and stronger than ever and that's..." His mouth widened in a grin. "That's a gift."

Malia stared up at her, her expression soft. "Yeah, it is."

Scott knew his smile was just as goofy as it felt, but he couldn't be bothered to hide it. "Are you ready for breakfast?"

Sighing, she leaned back, planting her hands on the grass. "I'm ready for pancakes. Awkward conversation with my dad... not so much."

"Maybe it won't be as bad as you think."

She raised a skeptical eyebrow and shrugged. "Maybe."

"Come on." He held his hands out to her. "If it gets awkward, I'll change the subject or something."

Malia took his hands and let him haul her to her feet. She reached around and dusted grass off herself and then took a deep breath. "Okay. Let's get this over with."

They crossed the lawn and hopped onto the porch. The door was left open and Shiloh came out to see them, her tail wagging excitedly. Malia reached down to scrub her fingers over Shiloh's ears before stepping out of the way for Scott to come inside, too.

On the table was a plate stacked high with pancakes, a bowl of sausages next to a pile of extra crispy bacon. There was a jug of juice and milk, plates and cutlery, butter and syrup, all at the ready. It was obvious that Henry had really gone out of his way to make sure breakfast was perfect. As much as Scott was often worried about Malia and frustrated over her situation, he waffled back and forth in how felt about Henry Tate. Having a father that also drank too much and put his family second left scars that Scott was still trying to heal. He tried to give Henry the benefit of the doubt; at least he stayed. But, it was hard not to feel like he could be doing more. At the same time, he knew that Malia loved her father, even if she often felt neglected and forgotten. All Scott really wanted was for Malia to be happy, if that meant having her father there, then great. As of this moment, Henry looked on board with that idea. Time would tell how dedicated he was to it.

"I, uh, put out a little of everything." Henry wiped his hands on a dishtowel. "You like syrup, right? I picked up some jam if you want that instead. Your mom used to can her own jelly, so she was partial to that. I don't think we have any left, so I hope the stuff they sell at the supermarket's half as good."

Malia glanced at him and then to the table. "Syrup's fine."

"All right, well, sit down. Plenty to go around. Dig in." Henry went about serving himself a mug of coffee, his shoulders hunched and his hands shaking a little as he tried to get it going.

Scott took a seat at the table and looked over to Malia, brows raised.

Slowly, she followed after him, sinking down into a chair and resting her elbows on the table as she looked out over everything. "That's... a lot of pancakes."

"Thought you'd be extra hungry after your run," Henry said, adding sugar to his coffee.

"We are." Scott nodded. "Thanks for inviting me, Mr. Tate."

"Happy to have you, Scott." Taking a deep breath, Henry turned around and made his way to the table, taking a seat across from Scott and kitty-corner to Malia. "How was your run?"

When Malia didn't respond, Scott answered for her. "Uh, it was good. Malia kicked my ass. She's fast."

Henry grinned. "She is. Always had been. Had a hard time keeping her still when she was little." He used his fork to spear a couple pancakes and bring them over to his plate. "Track must be starting up soon, huh? That'll be good. If you get me your schedule, I'll make sure I take time off to come to your meets."

"I don't know if I'm doing track this year."

Scott's hand paused, fork poised just short of his mouth. "What?"

"Since when?" Henry wondered, his brow furrowed. "You love track."

Malia shrugged. "I've got a lot on my plate right now. I don't think adding track on top of it is going to help."

Scott stared at her. "Are you sure? Maybe you could try it out for a couple weeks, see if there's a way you can balance things."

Malia pursed her lips. "I'll think about it."

"Good." Henry nodded. "If track makes you happy, you should keep it up."

Malia shoved a piece of bacon in her mouth so she didn't have to answer.

"How's work?" Scott wondered, turning to Henry.

"It's been good. Busy. How about you? You're training at that animal clinic, aren't you?"

"Yeah. For a while now. I like it. Dr. Deaton's been great and I'm learning a lot."

"Good for you." Henry sawed off a bite of pancake with the edge of his fork. "I think your mom said something about vet school."

"Eventually, yeah. I'll have to make it through high school first, then UC Davis."

"It's good to have a plan. You can start preparing for it early."

A muscle ticked in Malia's cheek and she glared down at her pancakes.

Scott winced. He forgot that she still wasn't sure what she wanted to do post-high school. She always tensed up when they talked about it. "So, is this your recipe? For the pancakes?"

"Nope, just good old fashioned boxed stuff. I added the chocolate chips. I was gonna chop up some banana too, but I skipped it."

"I don't think I've ever had banana in my pancakes." Scott shrugged. "My mom usually adds blueberries."

"Evelyn used to make a lot of this stuff from scratch. I'm not doing it much justice. But, it's edible."

"It's pretty good," Scott agreed.

The table grew quiet after that, nothing but the scrape and scuff of cutlery on plates and the odd slurp of coffee or juice. Scott felt a bubble of anxiety well up in his stomach. His gaze bounced from Malia to Henry and back. Henry's own gaze ping-ponged between his food and Malia. But Malia wouldn't look at anything except the bowl holding the sausages and bacon.

Scott reached over, grabbed some bacon out with the tongs, and heaped it on her plate.

Malia's mouth twitched.

Henry cleared his throat. "So, what do you have planned for today?"

She glanced at him. "I'm hanging out with Allison and Lydia today. They wanted to know if they could stay over tonight."

Henry paused. "Allison and Lydia... I think I've met Allison, right?"

"Yeah. She's come over a couple times. Lydia's one of Allison's friends. There's a late-night movie playing. We were gonna see that, then come back here. If that's okay."

"Yeah. Yeah, that's fine. Been a long time since you had a sleepover."

Scott suddenly choked on a piece of pancake and had to slam his fist against his chest to dislodge it. He could feel his face turning red and reached for his glass of juice to help push the food down.

Malia's hand found his elbow and squeezed. "All right?"

Scott nodded. "Yeah." His voice came out as a croak. "Yeah, just..." He coughed. "Went down the wrong way."

"Okay..." Malia's gaze lingered on him before eventually moving to her dad. "Uh, they'll be here later. Probably around 6 or 7."

Henry nodded. "I don't know if I'll be here then. But, I can make you girls something to eat for the morning."

"Uh, sure." Malia shrugged. "We're going skating tomorrow, too."

Henry looked at her a moment, his brow furrowed and a faint smile pulling at his mouth. "You turned into a regular social butterfly, huh?"

Malia's brows hiked. "What? No. It's two people. It's not that big a deal."

Scott bit his lip to hide his own smile and ducked his head, staring at his food.

"Shut up," Malia muttered, flicking his wrist with her fingers.

"I didn't say anything."

She stared at him knowingly. "I made one friend. Singular. Lydia's a tag-along."

Scott's brows hiked. "What about Danny? Or Erica?"

She shrugged and leaned back in her seat.

"Who's Danny?" Henry wondered. "Is that the boy that dropped you off last night?"

Malia sighed. "No, that was Cole."

"All I'm hearing is a lot of different names and a whole lot of evidence you're making more friends." Henry grinned, looking proud and excited. "It's good for you."

"Whatever." Malia was quick to focus back on her food, but Scott could see the tiny uptick of her mouth.

---

…

---

After breakfast, Malia followed Scott out onto the porch. Shiloh was nosing around the grass, sniffing at any- and everything. "Thanks for that," she said.

Scott turned to face her. "For what?"

"Sticking around. It was awkward, but it probably would've been a lot worse without you there."

Nodding, Scott glanced at the closed front door and then back to her. "He's trying."

"I know." She walked to the pillar and leaned back against it. "I just don't know how long it'll last."

"Maybe this time is different." Scott searched her face. "Would you want that?"

"Yeah, sure. I just... I don't know what that looks like. At least I knew what to expect before. All of this is new. He's talking about my mom and Kylie and he's teasing me about dumb things like sleepovers and friends." Her mouth twisted up. "It's weird."

"Good weird or bad weird?"

"Just weird. I don't know." She bit her lip and let her gaze fall to the floor. "It feels fake. Like we're just forgetting all the bad stuff and playing Stepford family."

"So, tell him that." Scott shrugged. "I don't think he knows what he's doing either. He's just trying stuff out and seeing what works. Seeing what'll make you talk to him."

Malia tipped her head back and groaned. "I don't want to talk."

"I think you do."

She dropped her chin and glared at him.

"Just hear me out..." Scott nodded slowly. "You wanna talk to him, you want to tell him that what he did sucks and you're mad at him. You want him to know that. Because you don't want him to keep doing it. But it's hard to say those things. It's hard to be vulnerable." He took a step closer and reached for her, his fingers gently folding around her forearms. "But I know you. I know that you don't want to give up on him. You're just scared that if it doesn't work out this time, then maybe it never will. And you deserve better than that."

A ball of emotion welled up in her throat and made it nearly impossible for her to swallow, let alone speak. It took a few swallows and even then, her voice was a croak as she wondered, "Is that dumb?"

"No." He shook his head. "Malia... You've been dealing with all of this stuff on your own for six years. It's okay to feel like that's not fair."

She sniffled. "Not totally alone."

He half-smiled and tugged on her arms, drawing her forward and into a hug.

Malia hooked her chin over his shoulder and closed her eyes. "I don't know what to do. I don't know where to start or what to say."

"Maybe that is the start. Maybe you just tell him that and see what happens." His hands rubbed circles along her back soothingly. "But, if it doesn't change... If he starts drinking again or he disappears, then... Tell me. Okay? I'm still going to be here and... I don't mind staying on the couch if you need somewhere to stay."

"I kind of like it when we share."

His hands stuttered against her back. Maybe she was imagining it, but his voice sounded deeper when he said, "Me, too."

They stayed like that a long moment, enough that Malia started to feel drowsy. She blamed it on a lack of sleep coupled with their run, but if she was honest, it just felt nice. He was warm and stable and he smelled really good. Like the forest and salt and Scott.

And then his phone started buzzing.

Malia leaned back, cleared her throat, and rubbed her hands over her face.

Digging his phone out, Scott checked the caller. "It's my mom. She's probably wondering where I am. I'm not usually up this early on a Saturday."

Malia snorted. "I still want this to be a regular thing."

He nodded. "Uh, I should get this, but... You'll be at Danny's tonight, right?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Maybe. We'll see. Stiles will probably want to go, since Lydia will be there."

"It might be nice to let loose. You should come." She smiled then. "We can practice our dancing some more."

Scott grinned. "Okay." He flipped his phone open then and raised it to his ear. "Mom, hey. I'm just leaving Malia's, I'll be home soon." He walked down the stairs and grabbed up his bike by the handlebar. With a wave to Malia, he climbed on and started riding, one-handed, juggling the phone against his shoulder. "Pick up milk. Got it."

Malia watched him go for a moment before turning and calling after Shiloh.

Shiloh barked back at her, spun around in a circle, and then started sniffing at the grass again.

Leaving the porch, Malia walked over to her, trying to see what it was Shiloh was getting excited about. But all she could find were purple flowers blooming in the otherwise weed-ridden flower beds. Evelyn had kept them immaculate once upon a time. Malia was a little surprised any flowers even grew around her house anymore. For the most part, the vegetables and herbs her mom had once kept in lush quantities had long stopped growing once they weren't being tended to. While Shiloh seemed to find them particularly interesting, Malia couldn't see why. It was a rare splash of color in a mostly green and brown area, but she wasn't entirely sure dogs could see purple. She'd have to Google it later.

"Come on, girl. I think we've got some leftover sausages you can eat."

Perking up, Shiloh went completely still and then hurried toward the porch, only slightly hindered by her leg. She made her way inside, barking excitedly. With an affectionate roll of her eyes, Malia followed after her.

---

…

---

It was just after six when Allison texted to say that she was picking up Lydia and would be heading Malia's way soon. Malia had officially spent most of her Saturday making sure the homework her teachers had assigned via email was finished. She made her way out to the living room to let her dad know her friends would be there relatively soon, only to find him sitting at the kitchen table, his reading glasses on and a book in front of him.

"Hey."

Looking up, he squinted, and then pushed his glasses on top of his head. "Hey. Getting hungry yet? I thought we could order pizza."

"Um, maybe. Allison and Lydia are on their way over. We might just get something to eat while we're out."

He nodded. "That's fine. I, uh, I'll be taking off in an hour or so anyway. I've got a meeting."

Malia's brows hiked. "Really?"

"For AA." He held his book up for her to see. "Melissa brought me to one the other night. I got a phone list and there's another one on tonight. They're recommending thirty meetings in thirty days. I might try for a bit more than that, just to start off."

Malia walked a little closer, curious now. "Does it help?"

"It does, yeah." He half-smiled. "I'm not cured, but I think I'm on the right path."

"Is 'cured' really a thing?"

He stared at her a long moment. "I don't think so, not with this. I can get better. If I keep on the right track and I stay sober. I have to work at it. Make sure I'm doing the right things and connecting with the right people." He paused. "I'm not gonna lie to you, honey. It's gonna be a long road and I might take some wrong turns, but... I'm trying. I'm doing this for you and for me and because I should've done it a long time ago."

Malia hummed. A beat passed before she walked a little closer. "So... Twelve steps, right?"

He nodded.

She took a seat at the table and clasped her hands together, her fingers knotted together tightly. "What are they?"

He smothered a smile, just barely, and then thumbed through his book. "I don't have them memorized just yet, so I'll read 'em to you."

"Okay."

Putting his reading glasses back on, he cleared his throat. "Step One: We admitted we were powerless over alcohol— that our lives had become unmanageable..."

---

…

---

"No... No... Ew, definitely not."

Malia exchanged a look with Allison, both of them rolling their eyes as Lydia went through Malia's closet with a critical eye. Lydia's frustration was more than obvious.

"Hideous... Awful... What color is that? Vomit. Absolutely not... Oh. This could— No, never mind."

"Lydia..." Allison's voice was patient, which was far better than what Malia was willing to offer. "You know we're guests, right? We can't just show up at Malia's house, raid her closet, and insult everything she owns."

"I didn't insult everything." Lydia twirled around, her skirt swishing around her legs. "Her dog is cute."

Shiloh looked up from where she had been chewing on a ball; her tongue lolled cheerfully from her mouth.

"She has her moments." Malia leaned back in her desk chair. "What exactly are you looking for?"

"Let's see... Mmm, how about something I'm actually willing to be seen in public with."

"And if you can't find that?"

"Then you better hope a store is open, 'cause we're going shopping."

Malia stared at her, and was somehow not even slightly surprised to realize that Lydia was one hundred percent serious. "Fine. I don't want to go shopping, so I'm giving you one-time privileges to put together something halfway decent and I'll wear it." Before Lydia could get excited, she added, "I get one veto."

Lydia smirked. "You won't need it." With that, she turned to the closet once more and tapped a finger against her chin. "All right, let's see..."

Malia turned to look at Allison.

With a wink and a thumbs-up, Allison nodded her approval and mouthed, "Smart."

Malia shrugged.

It was one night and one outfit. Besides, wasn't Danny always telling her to get out of her fashion bubble and try new things? Tonight, she would. If it worked, then fine, and if it blew up in her face, she could use it as an example to keep Danny off her back. It was a win/win.

---

...

---

Danny's party wasn't starting until eleven, so after getting dressed up, the girls decided dinner was in order. They ended up at a pizza joint, a large pie on the table. Malia sat on one side of the booth, her legs stretched out along the seat, while Allison and Lydia took up the other side.

"I still think you both missed an opportunity by not wearing a skirt." Lydia picked an olive off her pizza and flicked it onto Allison's plate. "You have the legs for it, might as well enjoy the spoils."

"I'm pretty sure my shorts do the same thing, just without the draft." Malia took a long sip of her Coke and then shrugged. "Anyway, I don't have any skirts." She did, actually. They were just tucked deep inside her dresser and she hadn't let Lydia find them.

Lydia pulled a face. "I noticed."

"On the bright side, that makes your skirt look even more unique." Allison looked between them. "Right?"

"Iconic," Malia agreed, only half-joking.

Seemingly soothed by their praise, Lydia hummed. "Onto more interesting things. Will Cole be at the party tonight?"

"Probably. He's friends with Danny." She took a bite of her pizza and pushed it all to one side, so she was chip-munking it as she spoke. "We're working on being friends."

"No more benefits?" Allison looked curious. "When'd that happen?"

"Last night. It's not a big deal."

"Uh, yes, it is." Lydia's brows hiked. "Cole James was your ticket to a higher rung on the ladder. Now, you're rung-less, again."

"I was never much of a climber to begin with. I leave that junk to you." Malia purposely chewed with her mouth open just to see the perturbed look on Lydia's face. "If he's such a prize, why don't you date him?"

Lydia sat a little taller and raised her chin in what Malia thought was a defensive motion. "I have Jackson. I'm perfectly happy with him."

Malia leaned her back against the wall. "If you say so."

Lydia's mouth pursed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Guys..." Allison worried her lip between her teeth. "Can we just eat and talk?"

"We are talking. I want to know what she meant." Lydia's gaze bore a hole into the side of Malia's face. "Just because Jackson doesn't like you—"

"We don't like each other. There's a difference." Malia glanced at her. "And I don't like him because he's a jerk."

"He's not." Lydia paused. "Not always. And you don't even know him. Not really."

"I know enough to know I don't want to know him." Malia shook her head. "All he's ever been to me and my friends is an asshole. Maybe you and Danny see something there that I don't. But what I have seen is that he doesn't care about anyone but himself." Sitting up then, she brought her legs around, dropping her feet to the floor. "I get that he's popular and that it's a big deal to you. But, there's a difference in being liked and being feared."

Lydia stared at her. "Fear is power. If you use it right."

Malia took a deep breath and sighed. "You know what, you're right. You and Jackson are perfect for each other. Forget I even said anything."

With a flip of her hair, Lydia said, "We are. And I will."

Silence filled the table then. Until eventually, Allison cleared her throat. "So... how's the pizza?"

Malia served herself out a fourth piece and popped a slice of pepperoni in her mouth. "Great. How's yours?"

---

…

---

By the time they reached the party, Lydia wasn't talking to Malia. In fact, she was in a mood, snapping at Allison and glaring at Malia whenever she so much as breathed too loudly. As soon as the door opened, she took off, marching through the crowd and leaving Allison and Malia in the dust.

"Did you forget that she's sleeping over later?" Allison wondered.

Malia winced. "I might've been a little harsh..."

Allison's brow furrowed. "A little?"

"Okay. More than a little. But I'm not the only one that thinks she can do better than Jackson, right?"

"Of course not. But there's probably a nicer way of saying it." Allison shook her head and linked her arm with Malia's. "She's been really tense about what happened at the school. I just don't want to add relationship drama on top of that."

Malia nodded. "You're right. I'll apologize... Later. After she's had some time to cool off."

"When she's tipsy and will probably forget it, you mean?" Allison stared at her knowingly. "Come on, I'm thirsty and I want to dance."

"Lead the way."

As Allison started walking, Malia let herself be towed along. She spotted Danny across the living room, but he was distracted, laughing at something, his head thrown back. She perked up and tugged at Allison's arm. "Quick detour."

Allison craned her neck, trying to see what Malia was looking at.

Malia pulled her along, weaving through a rowdy crowd of teenagers with red solo cups, until she reached who she was looking for. "It's Adam, right?"

He whirled around to face her; tall and handsome with brown hair and green eyes. His eyes lit up almost instantly. "Malia! I've seen pictures!" He reached out for a hug and, while Malia was a little caught off-guard, she reached back. He smelled good, not quite as good as Danny's Armani cologne, but good all the same.

When they pulled apart, she turned a smile on Danny and then grinned at Adam. "So, I hear you make great trail mix."

Adam laughed and turned a twinkly-eyed look on Danny. "So I'm told."

Danny rolled his eyes, but he was smiling wide enough that his dimples were on high. "I'm glad you guys came. Have you grabbed a drink yet?"

"We were on our way there when Malia spotted you." Allison waved. "I'm Allison, by the way."

Adam waved back. "Adam. It's nice to meet you."

"You, too."

"Where was the drinks table?" Malia wondered.

Danny pointed across the crowd. "That direction. The louder it gets, the closer you are."

"Thanks!" Malia started walking backward, bringing Allison along with her. "I'll find you guys later."

Danny raised his drink in cheers. "Have fun. Mingle."

She rolled her eyes in reply and then turned on her heel. "Let's find that drink."

---

…

---

"Remind me again why we aren't at a house party right now?" Stiles was sprawled out on the hard ground, his head resting against a boulder Scott was sitting on, one hand wrapped around a bottle of Jack Daniel's. "Where they had free alcohol, by the way. I had to steal this from my dad's liquor cabinet and hope he doesn't find out."

Scott sighed. "We are going… Soon. I just... I wanted to get my courage up."

"Ah, see, that's what the bottle's for. It's supposed to make all those pesky insecurities just melt away."

"It's a nice plan, but I'm still not sure alcohol's even going to have an effect on me. I've been thinking about it, and if my metabolism has increased, then it'll break down the alcohol before it has a chance to work."

Hands stacked on his chest, Stiles said, "Can't be sure until you try." He passed the bottle over to him. "Anyway, what do you need courage for? Just because you freaked out at the last party you went to, stranding Allison on the dance floor before taking off with Malia, only to start shifting in your bathtub before you jumped out your window, ran into the woods, and were attacked by hunters—"

"All pretty good reasons to be worried," Scott muttered. "But, I didn't mean that… I've been thinking about what you said. About me and Malia."

Stiles' eyes shot open and he pushed up onto his elbows. "What? Seriously? Are— Are you thinking about telling her how you feel?" Before Scott could even answer, Stiles started hooting excitedly. "Y-Yes! Okay, okay, how're you gonna do it? What are you gonna say? Wait, no, don't tell me. I'll record it on my phone. You know, for posterity's sake. That way, ten years from now, when I'm making your best man's speech, I can play the video. It's perfect."

"What?" Scott shook his head. "You are definitely not recording it."

Stiles snorted. "Have you got a better idea?"

"Yeah. I talk to Malia privately. Alone. And we figure this stuff out. Put it to rest, you know?"

Stiles stared at him. "I'm… Wait. I'm confused. You're going to tell her how you feel, right?"

"Yeah. Probably. At least, I think so."

"And you think, what, it's going to go… badly?"

"It could! Maybe…"

"What part of 'think about your relationship with Malia' made you think, 'she's totally going to reject me?'" Stiles pulled a face and shook his head. "What, in six years of friendship, makes you think that she isn't totally in—" He cut himself off and then rubbed the heel of one of his hands against his eye. "I'm getting a little tired of this back and forth, okay? It's not fun for me. I'm the one stuck in the middle here. I've got two best friends being idiots and I have to play referee. You think that's fun?" He grabbed for the whiskey bottle and took a swig. Swallowing and coughing, he let out a groan and swiped at his mouth. "It's not fun," he croaked. "It's exhausting. And frustrating. I'm the one who has to watch you two with your 'training.'" He made finger quotes. "All sweaty and flirty, rolling around in the grass, inches away from making out. How am I supposed to Miyagi anyone if you two are always…" He pressed his hands flat against each other and then wiggled them around.

Scott rolled his eyes. "We don't do that. And Malia takes this training stuff seriously… I'm holding her back."

Stiles let out a long and dramatic sigh. "No, you're not. Seriously, you need to stop beating yourself up for this stuff. Malia is—"

"Amazing," Scott interrupted. "She's got this shifter stuff half-figured out already. And I'm useless. All she wants is for me to help and I can't even do that."

"Dude, I know we're seeing this stuff from two different vantage points, but you need a bird's eye view from where I'm sitting."

"In your lawn chair?" Scott joked.

"You help her in different ways, all right? So, maybe you're not ready for hand to hand combat, whatever. That doesn't mean you aren't there for her in other ways."

Scott's shoulders slumped. "The problem is that I want to be there in every way."

"Okay, so… tell her that."

Scott shook his head and ground his teeth together. "You don't get it."

"Then help me, Scott!" He threw a hand up. "Because I'm not seeing a reason for the hold up here. Maybe it's the whiskey talking, but it sounds like you're just making excuses."

Scott's brow furrowed. "Maybe I am."

"Why?"

Scott stared at the ground, his hands clasped together. "This werewolf stuff, it sucks. But at the same time, I'm also stronger and healthier than I've ever been. This morning, when we were running, I could finally breathe. It felt amazing. But then it hit me on my way home, when I was riding my bike and I didn't have to pull over every twenty minutes to use my inhaler, that if Malia didn't like me before and she doesn't like me now, then that's it. I'm never going to be any better than I am right now."

Stiles turned over onto his side and stared up at him. "Yeah, well, see, the problem with that thinking is that it's bullshit."

Scott sighed. "You don't understand."

"No, I do. I get it. Your problem is that you think anything's really changed."

"A lot has changed. Everything about me has—"

"No." Stiles laughed lightly. "Dude, you barely changed at all. So, you get a little hairy sometimes and you need extra strength nail clippers, but Scott… You're still the same guy you were two month ago. This wolf stuff is just a speedbump, man. You're right, you're faster and stronger, but that doesn't change you. And Malia knows that. She doesn't give a shit how fast you can run or if you can pick a truck up over your head. Malia cares about who you are not what you can do. And I don't care what cycle the moon's in, you're still Scott."

Scott stared at him a long beat and then half-smiled. "All right, I think you're done drinking. You're getting sentimental on me."

"What? No way, Jack is mine!"

Just as Stiles reached for the whiskey bottle again, however, a hand reached out and snatched it from him.

Scott looked up to see two men standing in front of them. The one at the forefront was tall, African American, and wearing a backwards hat. He smirked down at them. "Well, look at the two little bitches getting their drink on."

Scott felt a wave of anger wash through him. "Give it back." It didn't matter that he was about to take it away from Stiles or that they were getting ready to leave. What mattered was that these two guys were hassling them.

"What's that, little man?"

The second guy was shorter and stockier, with pale skin and a weasely face. "I think he wants a drink," he mocked.

Scott's brow fell heavy over his eyes and a red tinge colored the outer edges of his vision. His voice grew stiff and warning. "I want the bottle."

Stiles had pulled himself up and was standing nearby, awkwardly readjusting his jacket, his eyes cutting nervously from Scott to the two men. "Scott, maybe we should just go."

Scott stared the men down, specifically the one holding the whiskey bottle. "No. Liquid courage, remember? It's ours."

The men snickered to each other.

Scott stood from the rock, feeling the muscles along his arms and legs stretch. A coil of anticipation tightened in his stomach. He stalked toward the men until he was only a couple feet away. "Give me the bottle." His voice dropped, rippling with a wolfish growl. He felt his claws grow and flexed his fingers; the sudden urge to sink them into flesh, to tear and pull, made his mouth water. That red haze started to ebb and flow around his eyes and he knew, he could feel that they weren't their usual brown. "Give me the bottle of Jack." Scott watched fear climb across the man's face, his mouth falling slack and the cruel tilt of humor he'd embraced while he picked on a couple of teenagers was long gone.

Behind him, Stiles' voice was heavy with worry. "Scott?"

The man held the bottle of whiskey out and Scott tore it from his outstretched hand. Abruptly, he whipped his arm out and let the bottle loose to shatter against a far tree. The men stumbled back, reeking of fear and sweat.

"O-kay, time to go." Stiles grabbed at Scott's shoulder and pulled at him. "Come on. We have somewhere to be, remember?" He tugged, but Scott didn't move. With a sigh, he dropped his voice lower, glancing briefly at their company before focusing on Scott once more. "Think about Malia, okay? At a party right now, waiting on us to get there. Just think about her, Scott."

Scott's gaze fell an inch. He could still feel a well of anger inside him, ready and willing to be explored. But he let his shoulders loosen up, let Stiles pull and tug and draw him away. Until finally, his gaze split from the men. Scott turned his back on them and walked with Stiles back to where the jeep was parked.

"What the hell was that?" Stiles wondered, hurrying to keep pace with him. "The full moon isn't for another couple days."

"I don't know." Scott tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket, squeezing his fingers into a fist and grinding his teeth.

"Is it… under control now, or…?" Stiles stared at him searchingly. "What do you wanna do?"

Taking a deep breath, Scott said, "Danny's party."

Stiles brow hiked. "Really? You think that's the best idea?"

"You know what's better than thinking about Malia?" He came to a stop next to the jeep. "Seeing her."

---

…

---

Lydia was definitely avoiding them. Malia had spotted her a few times, but Lydia always ended up walking in the opposite direction of her. Jackson was around, too; hanging out with a few people from the lacrosse team. It was the first time Malia had seen him since the school attack. Of them all, he looked the most unbothered. But then, maybe he was just getting better at hiding his trauma. She still remembered how he looked after the video store attack. Bags under his eyes, gaunt cheeks and blood-shot eyes. And the intensity about him, like a physical energy buzzing around his person, a sharp static that screamed 'wrong.'

"Is it just me, or is Lydia Martin not your biggest fan right now?"

Malia looked up, surprised to find Cole standing next to her. "Yeah. I think I hurt her feelings."

"Something about Jackson?"

Her brow furrowed. "How'd you know?"

"You're staring at him. And I'm pretty sure you hate him, so..." Cole shrugged. "Not hard to put it together."

Malia frowned. "I just don't get it, what she sees in him. He's a dick."

"Maybe he's got a softer side we don't see."

"Yeah, but, even if that's true, is that supposed to make everything he does okay?" Malia shook her head. "The way he treats people is crap."

"I guess it's a good thing you're not dating him." He bumped her shoulder. "Lydia's smart. She knows what she's doing."

"Yeah. Probably." Turning on her heel, putting the issue behind her, she focused on him. "Having fun?"

Cole shrugged. "More fun now." He looked around quickly. "Scott here?"

"I don't think so, but he said he'd probably come. Why?"

"Just wondering. I saw Allison over by the snack table, flirting with a very pretty brunette."

Malia grinned. "I guess she's got a type."

Cole held a hand out. "You wanna dance?"

"Sure." Malia took his hand and let him lead her over to where a crowd had collected near the speakers. "Just don't expect it to end the same way it did last time. I don't make out with friends."

Cole chuckled under his breath and winked at her. "Your loss."

Shaking her head, she smiled as he twirled her around and brought her back in, an arm wrapping low around her waist. "This isn't even a slow song."

He leaned in and lowered his mouth so it was nearly brushing her ear. "That's what makes it fun."

---

…

---

"You know what, I'm kind of rethinking this..." Stiles' hands wrung worriedly as he looked from Scott back to his jeep while they walked up the driveway to Danny's house. "Maybe the party's a bad idea. There's a lot of people and you're not exactly feeling up to it. Yeah, we should just go." He nodded quickly. "Come on, we'll head back to my place, get a pizza or something, just hang out."

"I just need to see her. I'll feel better if I do." Scott was almost to the door, his hands folded into fists at his sides.

Scott had hoped that even just leaving the forest, getting away from those guys, would help him calm down. But he didn't feel good, not like his normal self. Instead, he felt off. Like his skin was too tight and his limbs were too heavy. There was a pressure building up inside him, almost like when an asthma attack would start making him panic. But there was a fission of hope there, too. If he could just see Malia and hear her voice, then maybe it would stop. Maybe it would all just bleed away.

Danny's house was packed. People filled every available inch of space, huddled together in groups, laughing and talking. They were a blur to Scott. A collection of colors and bodies, but none of them particularly recognizable. The smell of beer and sweat, cologne and hairspray, all seemed to compound, and he had to breathe through his nose when it started to make his head ache.

"Pick up, pick up... Come on..." Stiles hung up and then jabbed his fingers against his phone again. "Hey, what's Allison's number? She'll know where Malia is."

Scott ignored him. Instead, he cut through the crowd, bumping into people along the way, jarring them hard enough that a few shouted, 'hey!' Their drinks sloshed, spilling onto the floor. He heard a muttered 'asshole' from behind him, but didn't bother to look. A flash of red caught his eye then and his vision focused for a moment— Lydia. She didn't see him. She stood, arms crossed over her chest, glaring up at Jackson, who was rolling his eyes. There was no Malia there. He turned his attention forward once more, moving and searching. There was so much noise— music, heartbeats, breathing. A collection of red cups tipped over and crashed to the floor; it shouldn't have sounded so loud, but it did. Scott winced. He reached up to cover his ears, despite knowing it was basically useless, and whirled around. He needed a moment. A quiet room to just help him get his bearings. But as he turned, he spotted her.

Malia.

Swaying along to the music, her hips rocking, and her hands folded together with—

Cole.

Scott's stomach dropped out and a muscle ticked in his jaw.

He stood, head cocked, watching them move together. The music became little more than thumping background noise. Malia tossed her head back to laugh, her hair spilling around her shoulders, bare except for two thin straps from her top. Cole tugged on one of her hands, making her spin, and hugged an arm around her waist as she leaned her back against his chest. There was something light and calm about her. A softness Scott didn't get to see as often lately. It made his heart squeeze and pull.

"Scott. Scotty? You okay?" Stiles stood beside him, a hand on his shoulder. "You wanna get out of here? Fresh air could probably help right now."

But Scott wouldn't move. Or blink. Or take his eyes off her.

Something dark and angry welled up inside him and he didn't like it one bit. It was cold and sharp and demanding. Not for the first time, Scott felt the wolf growing inside him, rattling the cage that was his human-self. It demanded out, and it wanted blood. Scott folded his hands into fists, squeezing them so tight that his bones hurt. He wouldn't do that. He wouldn't hurt them. And he hated that there was even a moment of weakness where that seemed like a good idea. Ready to turn around, to leave, to let Stiles help him, he only stopped when Malia looked up and directly at him.

Her brow furrowed and then she was pushing off Cole, muttering something back to him, and crossing the room. With a few long strides, she was right in front of him. "Hey..." She stared at Scott searchingly. "Are you okay?"

He wanted to lie, to tell her he was fine, just not feeling so great and ready to head home. But his tongue sat heavy and useless in his mouth.

"You're giving off a bit of a serial killer vibe right now with the staring and not talking." Malia reached for him, her hands folding around his forearms. "Did something happen?"

Scott stared down at her, his breathing coming a little quicker now. Words. He needed to say something, anything. But all he could do was stare at her.

"How long's he been like this?" she wondered, looking past his shoulder to Stiles.

"Forty minutes, maybe. He started getting weird when we were in the woods. We were hanging out and these guys found us, started giving us a hard time. Scott got in their face. I seriously thought he was going to fight them, but… He didn't. So, we came here. He said he needed to see you."

"Okay." She turned back to Scott. "Can you hear me?"

His gaze fell to her mouth and then skittered back to meet her eyes.

"I'll take that as a yes." She took a quick look around. "Allison is around here somewhere. Stiles, can you go find her?"

"Yeah, sure."

Scott could feel the absence of Stiles at his back and focused his sole attention on Malia.

"What do you need?" Malia's thumbs rubbed against his arm. "You wanna go outside? Go somewhere quiet? Just tell me what you need and I'll do it."

Scott thought of the woods. Of when Malia was freaking out and the only thing that helped ground her was when he'd hugged her. And so, without giving it much thought, he stepped forward and he dropped his chin down to Malia's shoulder. He turned his face so it was pressed up against the crook of her neck and he just breathed. Wildflowers encompassed every inhale. He closed his eyes and let it take him away. From the party and the pressure. Until there was just him and her and the sound of her heartbeat in his ears.

Malia slowly wrapped her arms around him. Her hands made sweeping circles across his back.

Scott's hands slowly found Malia's hips, the rough denim against his palms was a contrast to the soft fabric of her top brushing against his knuckles. The noise of the party became a buzz in the background. He reached an arm around her, banding it across her back and pressed his front flat against hers. Her breath stuttered and then her hand was warm against the nape of his neck. Slowly, gently, her fingers combed through his hair.

He felt calm. His lungs opened and his body softened. The pressure in his chest and hanging from his limbs started to ebb. He wasn't sure how much time passed, but sound leaked into his ears again. Music first. Then shuffling feet and voices. Until, soon it was a rush of noise, almost too loud for him to handle. He winced and lifted his head, his eyes squinted.

"Hey..." Malia caught his chin. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "Just loud."

"Okay. You wanna go outside?"

"No. It's fine. It'll pass."

She stared at him searchingly, her expression still twisted up with worry. "I'm gonna find Danny, let him know I'm leaving. We'll go somewhere else and just… figure out what's going on, okay? "

Scott nodded and her fingers fell from his chin, landing on his chest, in the open collar of his shirt. They dangled there, the tips pressed against his bare skin.

"Stay here. I'll be right back."

"Okay."

She paused and then half-smiled. "You're gonna have to let me go."

His eyes widened. "Oh. Uh... Sorry." Letting his hands fall to his sides, he took a step back. Her fingers left his chest, but he could still feel a warm imprint of where they'd touched.

Backing up, she promised, "I'll be quick."

Scott hummed. He watched her turn on her heel and cut across the room, maneuvering around people in search of Danny.

"Scott, hey."

Scott looked to his left to find Cole standing nearby. "Uh… hi."

"Are you doing okay? You looked a little out of it before."

As much as a part of Scott really truly wanted to dislike Cole, moments like this reminded him that Cole seemed like a genuinely nice person. He even seemed sincerely concerned for him. "Yeah, just not feeling well. Sorry I, uh, interrupted your..." He waved vaguely, meaning the dance that Malia and Cole were engaged in when he had his meltdown.

"Oh, no worries. We were just having fun." Cole paused then. "Malia's great. I really like her."

Scott went still. "Yeah."

"Look, Scott, I feel like we got off on the wrong foot or something. Friendship might be a little much right now, but maybe we could work on that. Malia and I are still figuring this stuff out, but—"

A sudden crash caught their attention and Scott turned to see Greenberg standing over a pile of beer cans, looking drunk and disappointed, his hands on his hips. A few people nearby started snickering, while Jackson started calling out insults. A bored and disinterested Lydia stood next to him, arms crossed and eyes rolling. Between the noise and Cole, Scott was starting to feel overwhelmed again. His skin prickled, and his heartrate accelerated.

Glancing at Cole, he said, "I have to go."

While he should have turned around and walked outside, Scott found himself moving forward, toward the closest door he could see. It turned out to be a bathroom and he quickly shut himself inside. His hands found the counter and gripped the edge tightly as he tried to focus on his breathing. He thought of Malia; of dancing with her in the woods and running with her this morning. But right behind those memories was her dancing and laughing with Cole. Cole's voice saying they were 'figuring stuff out.' He shook his head and reached for the taps, turning the water on cold and filling his palms with it. He just needed to calm down and breathe and get out of this house. The full moon wasn't for another two days, but already it was feeling just like Lydia's party a month ago.

---

…

---

After saying goodbye to Danny and Adam, agreeing to a vague meet-up in the near future so she could get to know Adam better, Malia went in search of Allison and Stiles. She found them by the snack table, completely unworried, trying to throw pretzels into each other's mouths. Malia rolled her eyes. "Stiles!"

Jumping nervously, he whipped around to face her. "H-Hey! Where, uh, where's Scott?"

She frowned. "Where I left him. You were supposed to find Allison and then come back."

"Oh. Yeah. Well..." He chewed his lip. "I mean, you seemed to have it under control with the whole..." He gestured his hands around. "Intimate hugging thing."

Allison snorted.

Malia's gaze narrowed.

Stiles winced. "I just mean... It looked cozy and calm and not like an immediate threat, so... Uh..." He held up a pretzel. "Hungry?"

Taking a deep breath, she shook her head. "The noise is getting to him." She glanced at Allison. "He's got a migraine."

"Oh. Right. Sure." Stiles dusted his hands off. "Time to go, I guess."

Allison waved at them. "I have some Ibuprofen, if that helps."

"Thanks, but I think he's just gonna head home and crash," Malia said. "It's been a long day."

"Okay." Allison looked from her to Stiles. "Does that mean the party is over for everyone then or…?"

That was the problem, wasn't it? As soon as Malia left Scott, she realized that she was supposed to be hosting a sleepover at her place. And while she was pretty sure her dad was okay with the girls staying over, he might not be quite as welcome to Scott and Stiles staying over, too. Plus, if Scott really was getting edgy, he probably shouldn't be around anybody who didn't know his furry secret and could get hurt. But if he needed her, then she should go with him, right?

With a sigh, Malia admitted, "I don't know. What I do know is that he's waiting in the living room, so…" She turned to Stiles. "Grab the jeep and I'll meet you outside?"

Stiles saluted her. But as soon as Malia turned on her heel to leave, she looked back to see Stiles grab up a handful of pretzels and then wave to Allison to get in position.

With a laugh, Allison backed up and then gave him a thumbs-up to start throwing. On the one hand, Malia was glad they were working on their friendship. On the other, she kind of needed Stiles' help here.

Sighing, Malia kept walking. She'd deal with Stiles later. Just as soon as...

Malia came to an abrupt stop. Scott was nowhere to be seen.

Cole wandered over, a cup in hand. "He's in the guest bathroom."

"Oh. Okay." Malia paused. "You guys talked?"

"A little." Cole shrugged. "He looked a little freaked out. I know we're not friends, but I figured I was better than nothing. And since you and I are trying to be friends, we'll probably have to get used to each other."

Malia nodded slowly. "Which way's the guest bathroom?"

Cole pointed. "Not far."

"Okay. Thanks. Um..." She started backing away. "Tonight was fun. I'm glad we hung out."

"Me, too."

Turning around, she cut toward the closed bathroom door, just down the hall a little. She reached for the handle but then paused and knocked. "Scott... Are you in there?" When no answer came, she tapped again. "Scott?"

Slowly, the door cracked open.

Relieved, Malia pushed it open wider and slipped inside, closing it behind her. The sound from outside was muffled; distant music playing mixed with the subdued sound of voices and laughter. It was like they were isolated from it all; near but not a part of. "Hey... Are you doing okay?"

Scott stood against the far wall, his arms crossed and his foot tapping rapidly. "I'm freaking out."

"I can see that." She stared at him searchingly. "Any particular reason?"

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe it's the moon? But that's not for two more days. I... I shouldn't be like this..."

"Okay, well, so we get out of here. Stiles is gonna get the jeep. He can bring you home. Or to his place. Whichever. Just somewhere there's not a lot of people."

"Like Cole?"

Malia frowned. "I guess…"

He opened his eyes and focused them on the ceiling. "You looked happy when you were dancing."

Malia stared at him, confused.

Scott pushed off the wall and walked toward her. But his gait was different, his arms uncrossed, hands hanging loose at his sides.

There was something about the way he was moving, the expression on his face, that almost looked predatory. In fact, it reminded her of the woods, back when they had Derek arrested and Scott had shifted unexpectedly and tracked her down. The difference now was that Malia wasn't scared, per se. Then, she'd been entirely human and had almost no idea what Scott would or wouldn't do. She operated mostly on blind faith. Now… She wasn't human. Not totally. And if Scott had done anything, he'd proven that even when the wolf was in control, some part of him wouldn't let it hurt her.

"Were you?"

Malia swallowed tightly. Her mind felt fuzzy, her thoughts jumbled. It was hard to stay focused when he was walking toward her with so much intention in every step. What that intention was, she wasn't sure, but it made every muscle in her body tighten up and pay attention. "Was I what?"

He stopped just short of her. "Happy?"

"I..." She searched his face. "I was having fun, yeah."

"With Cole."

Her brow furrowed. "Did something happen? Did he say something?"

"Yeah, something." He stepped closer, his chest pressed to hers, firm and warm. "That you guys were working things out."

It took a second for his words to make sense. Part of that was because he was standing so closely that every breath she took was filled with him. It was both unnerving and not to have him taking up her space. This wasn't like their hug before, where it was mutual. This felt purposeful in a different way. "I... Yeah. We are. We're..." Her breath caught when Scott stepped forward. With no space between them, she was forced to lean away, until her back hit the door while her legs were stretched out in front of her. He reached past her, palms resting flat against the door, his arms caging her in, and his hips snug against her own. "F-Friends."

"Friends?" He cocked his head, the tip of his nose brushing hers and his breath hot against her mouth. "Like us?"

"No." Her breathing stuttered. "Not really."

"Right." His nose brushed against her lips and her chin and then lower. He ducked under, his nose buried against her neck and making a slow trek back up, breathing her in. He paused with his mouth against her cheek. "With benefits."

Malia was trying to think, but she wasn't having an easy time of it. Her skin felt too warm and tight, her heart skittered unevenly, and those unruly butterflies were kicking up a storm in her stomach. "Yeah... No... I mean..."

Scott raised his eyes to meets hers, now a distinct yellow. "Which one is it?"

"Scott, you're shifting." Right. Yes. Focus on that. And not on the press of his body against her own, the drag of his lips down her cheek, the way he was looking at her from beneath long, black eyelashes. "You need to calm down, okay?" And so did she.

"I'm calm." He raised a hand up, his thumb pressing flat against her chin while his fingers curled underneath. "You're not. I can hear your heart."

Malia swallowed tightly.

"Are you scared of me?" His voice was pitched low and deep. It made her stomach clench and her thighs shake.

"No," she said, her voice little more than a whisper.

Scott smiled, but it wasn't the sweet and goofy smile she was used to. This was something else. A slow, liquid heat disguised in the curl of his lips. "Then what are you?"

Turned on, she thought. And seriously questioning her sanity.

Obviously, Scott was being affected by something. Derek hadn't mentioned anything about feeling the affects of the moon early, but this had to be that, right? He wasn't being his usual self.

"Scott, we need to..." Go. Find Stiles. Get out of this very small, very private bathroom. Take a cold shower. Something.

"We need," he said, his voice so utterly agreeable that she felt it in her bones. She felt his hand on the small of her back, tucked under her shirt, a warm brand against bare skin. His hand climbed her back— she felt the subtle scrape of his claws against her skin and her whole body shook. Not with fear or worry or concern, but with anticipation. Her lips parted and a quiet sigh left her. His gaze fell to her mouth and then raised to meets her again. When he leaned in, her eyes drifted shut. But just as she swore she felt the faintest brush of his mouth against hers— Bang!

A knock hammered at the door behind her. "Hey! Is anyone in there! I need to pee, man!"

Malia's eyes shot open. Her hands, which she only now realized had been gripping the sleeves of Scott's shirt, took hold of his shoulders and pushed him back. "Y-yeah. Hold on." She stood upright, smoothed her shirt down, and glanced at Scott before turning and facing the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed and her expression screamed 'guilty.' "We should go. Stiles is waiting."

With that, she yanked the bathroom door open and stepped out, hardly giving whoever was waiting a passing glance. She could tell Scott was following her, at a distance but definitely there.

Stiles was walking toward them, flipping his keys around a finger. "Hey. Ready to go?"

"Yes. He is." Malia waved vaguely in Scott's direction. "Something is up. His eyes were glowing earlier. Keep an eye on him, okay?"

"So... does that mean we're on our own or...?"

"Yeah. You can handle it." She nodded quickly. "I, uh, I'm gonna find Allison."

Stiles frowned. "Are you okay? You're acting weird and nervous. That's usually my shtick."

"Fine. Totally fine." She hugged her arms around herself, feeling distinctly cold all of a sudden. "Text me later, let me know how he's doing."

"Yeah, okay." He stared at her searchingly. "Have a good night?"

"Mm-hmm." She turned to leave then. But as Malia was passing Scott, he reached out, his hand folding around her elbow and drawing her to a stop.

Malia knew she could shrug him off and keep going, but she didn't. She stared forward, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

"I'm sorry." His voice was quiet and subdued, nothing like it was before.

Hesitantly, she turned to look at him. His eyes were back to their familiar brown and his expression was sad and apologetic.

Malia's shoulders slumped a little. "It's okay. Really. We'll talk about it tomorrow, okay? Just... go home. Get some rest."

Scott stared at her, searching her face. "We're okay?"

"Yeah. Of course we are." She smiled. "Always."

Scott nodded and slowly let his hand fall away. "Okay." After a beat, he turned and left.

She lingered a few seconds longer, but eventually started moving again. Her gaze absently bounced around, searching for Allison. But her mind was elsewhere, stuck on an almost kiss that she was about 90 percent sure was motivated by werewolf hormones and nothing else. Just thinking of the guilty look on Scott's face made her stomach twist and her insides cringe. He was probably beating himself up over it while she had been almost desperate for it to happen. What the hell kind of friend did that make her?

"Hey!" Allison's voice called out. "Did Stiles leave or— Uh, are you okay? You look like someone just ran over your dog..." She paused. "Again. And with worse results."

"Yeah. Fine." Malia shook her head. "Are you having fun?"

Allison shrugged. "Not really."

"Would it be totally lame if we just went back to my place?"

"No, not at all. All we need to do is find—"

Lydia suddenly appeared next to them, her arms crossed and her mouth set in a perturbed frown. "This party sucks. Can we go?"

Allison grinned. "You read our minds."

"Perfect." With a flip of her hair, Lydia turned on her heel to face the door. "The sooner we get back to Tate's, the sooner she can explain why she and Scott were holed up in the bathroom and came out looking guilty." Without bothering to wait for a response, she sashayed away.

Malia, uncharacteristically shocked, followed after her.

Amused, Allison bumped Malia's shoulder. "You know, we've got about a thirty-minute ride back to your place and I wouldn't put it past her to start grilling you as soon as we get to my car."

Malia groaned. It was going to be a long night.

---

tbc

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author's note: i actually finished this chapter pretty early on, it was just editing it that took forever. and i'm still not entirely sure there isn't a dozen or so mistakes in here, so if you see one, let me know! in any case, i'm once again sorry for the long wait! on the bright side, it's quite long. :D

i actually really liked writing this chapter for a variety of reasons that i hope you enjoyed, too. malia and derek have made up, somewhat. some questions are semi-answered, in part because derek is still figuring out part of that mystery himself. but seeds are planted! plus, they hugged. i feel like they're at a point now where that makes sense. derek was still a little awkward about it, but it needed to happen.

plus, some forward motion when it comes to malia and her dad. their journey together is going to be a long one with a lot of ups and downs, but for now, henry is really focused on recovery and hope, and malia is tentatively hopeful. also, i just really loved having scott choke on his food when henry mentioned sleepovers, since he was in malia's bed just the other night. ;)

i'm really curious to see how you guys felt about the scalia scenes. in the beginning, they're sweet and supportive, but by the end of the chapter, scott is being influenced quite a bit by the moon and so it's turning him in one of two directions - violence and seduction. i wanted there to be a difference in how scott is with malia both in and out of the bathroom and i'm hoping it came across the way i wanted it to. so, i guess i'll see. let me know what you think!

things to look forward to next chapter: girl talk gets deep, skating, an unexpected panic attack, training, and jealousy of another variety. :)

thanks for reading. please try to leave a review!
- Lee | Fina