Ship: Malia/Scott (eventually); side: Scott/Allison, unrequited Stiles/Lydia
Word Count: 11,450
Episode: Pilot – "Wolf Moon"
Summary: 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 Scott, 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]

let me break (the walls that surround me)

It was eleven o'clock at night when Malia's phone started buzzing repeatedly, enough that it was bouncing against her desk so much it eventually fell over the edge to the floor below. Shiloh, Malia's dog, lifted her curious head up from where she was sleeping in the corner of the room. One of white ears flopped over her pale brown head as she searched. Finding nothing of importance, she rolled onto her back, spotted paws in the air, and went right back to sleep.

Leaned back in her desk chair, Malia threw a foam basketball across her room to land, swish, right through the basket hanging off her wall. She considered ignoring her phone. A text this late meant one of the boys did something stupid. That or they were about to do something stupid and wanted her to tag along. And, while sneaking out of her house wasn't exactly uncommon for her, she'd promised her dad she was really going to buckle down at school, which officially started again tomorrow. Winter break was over and it was time to get back to screechy warning bells, smelly lockers, and, ugh, math.

But, as much as she wanted to pretend her phone wasn't screaming for attention, she couldn't. And, if she really thought about it, school didn't start back until tomorrow, so she wasn't really breaking her promise to her dad…

Rolling her eyes, she turned sideways on her chair and dipped low enough to scoop up her phone. Stiles had sent her seventeen messages, many of which were unintelligible collections of emojis. Brow furrowed, she dialed his number and sat back in her chair with a frown.

He answered on the third ring, strangely out of breath. "Hello?"

"What do you want? Half your texts are gibberish."

"They're not gibberish. It was code. It was supposed to be a quicker way to tell you what was happening. And it would've been, if you'd responded to the first few texts. But you didn't, so now you're out."

"Out of what?" She rolled her eyes. "What the hell is going on that you had to text 17 knife and ghost emojis?"

"At most, I sent you eight of those."

"Whatever. You know it's eleven o'clock at night, right? I could be sleeping."

"Highly unlikely." He grunted. "Seeing as you have insomnia."

"I do not have insomnia…" She pursed her lips. "I just get bored."

"Nobody gets bored sleeping… Because you're sleeping. There's no way to get bored."

"Well, I do." She shrugged and grabbed a pen off her table to fiddle with it between her fingers. "Anyway, I sleep better after I run. It helps burn off extra energy." Plus, it vetoed out a lot of the junk food she ate. "Track doesn't start until next month though and jogging trails aren't exhausting me enough."

"Yeah, track, cool. Hey, listen, so there's a reason I've been trying to get a hold of you—"

"I caught on to that."

"—they found a body."

Malia went still. "They who? And what body?"

"'They' as in some joggers. Dad's checking it out now. The whole force is basically out in the woods trying to find the other half and—"

"Half?"

"Would you let me tell the story, please? God, you're so impatient…"

"Well, hurry up!" She huffed before pushing off her chair and tossing her pen away haphazardly as she began to pace.

"Just, hold on, I don't want to repeat myself..."

The line went quiet for a moment, distant grunting noises all that could be heard, before suddenly, there was shouting.

"Stiles?" Malia's heart jumped in her chest, panic flooding her system. "Stiles!?"

A familiar voice broke through then, asking, "Stiles, what the hell are you doing?"

Relief flooded her. Scott! That was just Scott.

"You weren't answering your phone," Stiles replied. "Why do you have a bat?"

"I thought you were a predator."

"A pre— I— What?"

Impatient, Malia shouted through the phone, "Stiles!"

"What, wait, hold on." There was a scuffling noise for a moment before Stiles said, "Hey, Malia, you're on speaker. Say hi to Scott."

"Can we get back to the part about the body?" she demanded.

"Body? Like, a dead body?" Scott wondered, confused.

"No, a body of water. Yes, dumbass, a dead body," Stiles snarked. "And way to ruin the surprise, Malia. I was gonna work up to it."

She scoffed, loudly. "If you take any longer to tell me what's going on, I'll be grey by the time you're done."

"All right, okay. So, dad took off like twenty minutes ago. They're calling in the whole force and State police because a couple of joggers found a body out in the woods. Half of one anyway. They're looking for the other half now. Looks like a woman, probably in her 20's."

"Okay…" Malia shook her head slowly. "I mean, sucks to be her. Condolences to the family. But, why is this big news? People die all the time. It's kind of what they do."

"Dark, but not untrue," Stiles admitted. "Didn't you hear me, though? They only found half. That means there's another half a body just out there in the woods… We have to go find it!"

"Isn't that what the police are already doing?" Scott pointed out. "We probably shouldn't get in their way."

"Okay, what is with the negativity?" Stiles groaned. "Aren't you the one who's always complaining that nothing ever happens around here? This is our chance to find a little excitement!"

"No, this is our chance to blow any chance of getting a good night's sleep…" Scott sighed. "Which I was trying to do so I'll be ready for tryouts tomorrow."

"Right." Stiles snorted. "'Cause sitting on the bench is such a gruelling effort."

Malia pursed her lips. "Don't point fingers when you have as much bench time saved up on your roster, Stilinski."

"Hey, we are brothers in the bench game. I'm just saying that this is one of the rare moments we have anything cool happen around here and I think we should embrace it."

"By cool you mean a girl was viciously murdered and you want to go find her decomposing corpse?"

Stiles paused before saying, "Half. Half of her decomposing corpse!"

With a wrinkled nose, Malia shook her head. "A) Gross. And b) do you have any idea how big the preserve is?"

"Huge," he admitted.

"Do you even know what half of the body we're looking for?" Scott wondered.

"Huh… You know, I didn't even think of that…"

"And, uh, what if whoever killed them is still out there?"

"Also something I didn't think about."

Malia snorted. "What did you think about?"

"That there is a body in the freaking woods right now and we could be the ones to find it!"

"Right, because glory and riches follow dead people everywhere…" Malia kicked at the foam basketball, sending it bouncing off her wall. "You guys aren't seriously thinking about going into the woods, are you?"

There was a pause on the other end of the phone.

Malia groaned. "How did I end up friends with you dorks?"

"Perfect timing and my charming ability to make even a cemetery less depressing?" Stiles offered.

Despite herself, Malia felt the faint tug of a smile at the corner of her lips. Truthfully, he wasn't entirely wrong. When Malia was ten years old, she spent a lot of her time at the cemetery, pacing circles around her mother and Kylie's graves, gathering up the courage to tell them how sorry she was for all the cruel things she'd said before they left the house. Six years had passed since then and she still hadn't forgiven herself. But, in true Stiles fashion, he'd wandered over to interrupt her pity party and quickly ingratiated himself to her. It seemed he also liked to visit the cemetery to tell his mom what was going on in his life. Sitting on someone's grave stone in a suit that was two sizes too large for him, wearing a loose tie that was probably his dad's, he'd smiled at her, all teeth, his ears too big for his head. Malia had been hell bent on ignoring him, but when Stiles wanted someone to notice him, he pulled out all the stops.

She wouldn't call it a great beginning. She might've thrown the dead weeds from her sister's grave at his face— she was a pretty angry kid at the time— but Stiles took it in stride. After a few more run-ins at the cemetery, she eventually thawed a little. Which somehow led to her kind of liking the strange boy with the mismatched suit and too-big tie. Once school started, she found out who he was, and soon after, met his best friend, Scott McCall. All in all, a pretty beneficial part of her life since they were now her two closest— and clearly dumbest— friends.

"Fine. I'll meet you by the west entrance to the preserve. You know, the one that says not to go anywhere that isn't a marked trail."

"Wait, should you be out there alone?" Scott worried. "Maybe we should come pick you up?"

Malia chewed her lip; she'd be lying if she said his concern didn't warm her rocky little heart. That didn't stop her from saying, "I can take care of myself just fine. Besides, I know these woods better than both of you combined."

"She's not wrong," Stiles admitted.

"There's a difference between knowing the woods and fighting off a possible murderer…" Scott sighed. "Just text us, let us know you're okay."

"Yeah, yeah." Malia moved to her closet to dig around for some warmer clothes. "I jog these trails all the time. I'll be fine. It's you two who should be really worried. One of you has asthma and the other has literally no reflexes."

Stiles scoffed, offended. "What!? I have reflexes!"

"Slow ones." Malia pulled a sweater off the hanger quick enough that it sent it swaying back and forth. "I'll see you soon. Don't do anything stupid." With that, she hung up, and shoved her phone into the front pocket of her sweater. Trading in her pajama shorts for a pair of jeans, she slipped her feet into a pair of runners and tied the laces.

Excited now, Shiloh left her place on the floor and made her way over, tail wagging hopefully.

"Hey, buddy." Malia rubbed her ears affectionately. "Usually, I'd take you with me. But you always bark when I get the leash out and I can't exactly sneak you through my window, so you're going to have to stay here and keep the house safe, all right? I promise you, I'll take you out for an extra long walk tomorrow." Bending, she pressed a kiss to Shiloh's nose and then made her way to her bedroom window.

Tying her hair up in a messy pony tail, Malia then carefully inched her window up enough that she could climb through to the porch outside. Slowly lowering it back down, she made a 'shh' motion to Shiloh, sitting pretty on the floor, watching her leave. She purposely left a couple inches of space at the bottom of the window so it'd be easier to lift when she got back and then turned on her heel to quietly make her way to the yard ahead.

The lawn needed some serious care, but it wasn't getting much from her dad. As much as she loved him, he'd never quite healed from the loss of his wife and daughter. Malia knew that he cared about her, but she couldn't help but feel like the ghosts of their family lingered between them, a tether that never quite let them grow, heal, or move on. Their house was just one sign of that; overgrowth of grass in every direction, peeling paint on the exterior, and the unstable nature of the stairs leading to the porch spoke of a house that wasn't as tended to as it had once been. When her mom was alive, home was warm. It was bright and organized and full of love. In the aftermath, her father was left stumbling, not sure how to adapt and maybe not even willing to.

Hurrying out of the yard, she made her way to the treeline. Malia had long ago memorized every pathway through the woods. When she was a little girl, she and Kylie used to climb the trees every chance they got. They'd jump and tumble through the grass, make forts out of twigs and curtains they stole from the linen closet, and make up elaborate stories about being princesses and fairies that lived in the magical woods. Malia always wanted to be a knight. Not one that slayed dragons though. Instead, she wanted to befriend dragons and have them fight alongside her in raging battles. Kylie was always the princess; pretty and smart and looking for a prince in a wild rabbit or curious fox.

Sometimes, just running through the woods brought Malia back to that age of innocence. On particularly hard days, she would go there just to think of her mom and Kylie. She'd run as fast as her legs would take her and let the wind dry the tears she wouldn't admit she'd cried. For as long as she could remember, she'd tried to be strong. To toughen herself up against he onslaught of pain that had filled her life and her home since she was ten. The loss of her family had been almost too much to bear. But she had, and she felt like a more resilient person because of it. Still, she knew there were times that she was too aggressive or too cold. She was blunt in a way that wasn't exactly socially acceptable. Malia didn't see the point of sugar-coating things or trying to soften herself up for others. She was who she was. And sure, maybe part of it was some kind of shield against pain and loss. But, so what? Everybody had their coping mechanisms.

Anyway, she was happy with her life. Mostly. There were times that she wanted more or felt like she might be missing out on something. But, for the most part, things were good. She had two amazing, slightly idiotic, friends. She had her dad. And she had Ms. McCall and Sheriff Stilinski, both of whom were like second parents to Malia. So, sometimes she wished she knew how to be softer or sweeter or how to flirt, but maybe she'd pick it up later. College wasn't so far away. She was sixteen. She had plenty of time to grow into that. Right? And it wasn't like she needed to know it now. It wasn't like there was some big reason that she wanted to be more feminine or whatever it was that attracted someone to someone else. No. No reason at all…

Malia caught up to the boys exactly where she told them to wait for her.

Scott pushed off the front of the jeep with a heavy sigh and crossed the distance between them. "You didn't text," he said, his voice heavy with worry and just a little accusation.

Malia winced, but covered it with a frown. "Sorry. I was stuck in my head."

"So was I. I thought some crazy serial killer caught up to you." He stared at her searchingly from warm brown eyes, a crooked smile pulling at his mouth. "I'm glad they didn't."

"Technically, this could be their first kill. So, we don't actually know if they're a serial killer," Stiles piped up, appearing next to them.

Malia glanced at him. "Thanks for that. I'll be sure to ask them about their serial killer status if I run into them." Glancing back at Scott, she shifted her feet awkwardly. "So? Dead body's waiting, right?"

"Just half of one." Scott shook his head and started toward the woods.

Malia fell into step with him. "What happened to you going to sleep early so you could make first line tomorrow?"

He tucked his hands in the pocket of his hoodie and shrugged. "Curiosity, I guess… I can still do it, though. I practiced all of winter break. And the summer."

"You're getting pretty good, too." Malia nodded. "As far as distractions go, I guess murder isn't the worst one."

Scott grimaced. "Unless you're the victim."

Stiles motioned the flashlight across Malia and Scott's faces, blinding them for a moment, and then chuckled. "Hey, Debbie and Donnie Downer, can you lighten up? This is cool! We're gonna find a real body!"

"As opposed to all those fake ones we usually find…" Scott half-grinned. "Anyway, how do you know they haven't found it already?" He hopped over a log and reached back to help Malia over it.

It was small and definitely not something she really needed help for, but she took his hand anyway. Not for any particular reason. Definitely not because she liked how he always did that. Treating her like she was delicate and soft, which was clearly not at all what Malia saw herself as. But that was Scott. He'd probably reach back and help Stiles if he thought he might need it. It wasn't anything to read into. She knew this. A little part of her still took pleasure in the little things, though.

"That fast? No way! It's like you said, the woods are huge…" Stiles trudged on ahead, walking deeper into the dense woods, which only seemed to grow darker and creepier the more they walked. They'd long lost any direction and had wandered far away from the trails.

"If you were a killer, where would you leave a body?" Malia wondered, glancing at Scott.

His brow puckered. "I don't really see myself as the murdering type."

"Sure, but if you had to…"

He scraped his teeth over his bottom lip. "I'd hope I'd turn myself in."

Malia rolled her eyes. "You'd make a terrible killer."

He grinned at her. "Thanks."

"I'd leave it near a coyote den."

His brows hiked. "Malia!"

"What!? I'm just saying…" She shrugged. "Coyote's freak out when they smell blood. They literally can't handle it. They just go berserk and attack whatever's bleeding. That way, if the body's ever found, they'd just think it was like, an animal attack or something."

He stared up at her, a little wide-eyed. "You're kind of scary."

"I prefer 'criminally intelligent.'"

He snorted a laugh. "What is it with you and coyotes anyway?"

"I don't know. I just think they're cool. Shouldn't you? You're the one that wants to be a vet."

"Yeah, but I'll probably be looking after dogs and guinea pigs. Not wild coyotes."

"Don't they have some kind of Hippocratic oath for vets, too? Like, don't discriminate against coyotes?"

"I'm not sure it's worded exactly like that, but if we do, it'll definitely have something about trying our best for any animal that needs our help."

"See!" She stared at him smugly. "So, if you ever cross paths with an injured coyote…"

"I'll nurse it back to health to the full extent of my abilities." He grinned up at her. "Happy?"

"Ecstatic."

"Hey…" Stiles called to them. "You wanna help me look for this body or what?"

With a sigh, Malia returned her attention to the woods and not the handsome— er, totally average boy next to her. "What exactly should we be looking for?"

"Disturbed ground, blood, body parts…" Stiles shrugged and then paused at the base of hill with a steep incline. "Pretty much anything suspicious." He started climbing with Malia just behind him and Scott trailing behind her.

About half way up, Malia slowed down when she could hear Scott's breathing start to give out. She looked back to see him leaning against a tree and shaking his inhaler.

"Maybe the severe asthmatic should be the one holding the flashlight, huh?" Gasping for air, he took two puffs from his inhaler, swallowed, and then nodded up at her. "I'm good."

Still, Malia hesitated. She reached back for him and towed him up so he was with her as they climbed the last few feet. Just as they crested the hill, they saw Stiles hit the ground on his belly. Scott and Malia followed suit, landing on either side of him. Above, a rain began, sprinkling down on them just to make things that much more inconvenient. Ahead, they could see flashlights and hear the distant bark of dogs scattered through the trees.

Suddenly excited, Stiles jumped up and started running forward. "Come on!"

"Stiles!" Scott took another drag off his inhaler before he hurried to chase after him. "Wait up! Stiles!"

Rolling her eyes, Malia got up a little slower, dusting off her knees and the front of her clothes. Stupid boys. Why couldn't she have female friends that just wanted to paint her nails and eat ice cream and complain about how annoying boys were? With a sigh, she glanced at where the flashlights were coming from and then took off after them at a quick run. She expected to at least catch up to Scott, whose breathing would hinder him from getting too far ahead.

"Stiles!" Scott shouted again.

In the distance, she could see their dark figures, maneuvering through thick groupings of tree trunks. Stiles had finally slowed down and turned back, but before either she or Scott could catch up to him, he turned, and was abruptly confronted by a snapping, barking dog.

Throwing his arm up in defense, he toppled backwards and landed on his ass in the dirt.

"Hold it right there!" a voice demanded.

Catching up to Scott, Malia grabbed the back of his sweater and yanked him back out of view. They huddled behind a tree to watch as a police officer held the dog back from completely pouncing on Stiles.

"Hang on, hang on. This little delinquent is mine…" a tired and rusty voice called out.

Malia let out a sigh of relief as Sheriff Stilinski intervened.

Standing, no longer in danger, but almost definitely in trouble, Stiles waved at his father. "Dad, how are you doing?"

Ignoring his attempt at a pleasantry, Sheriff Stilinski wondered, "Do you listen in to all of my phone calls?"

"No, heh…" He gave his head a shake to get the rain off his face. "Not the boring ones."

Sheriff Stilinski stared at him a beat, not looking particularly surprised, and then turned his gaze out toward the woods. "Now, where are your usual partners in crime?"

"Who, Scott and Malia? Nah, no. Malia's back home. You think she'd go along with this? And Scott, he's sleeping. He wanted to be rested up for the first day back at school. Lacrosse tryouts are tomorrow… It's just me. In the woods. Alone."

He stared at Stiles blankly, unconvinced. "Scott, you out there…? Malia…?" He waved his flashlight across the trees, searching but not finding.

Scott looked at her and Malia shook her head sharply.

He sighed, but stayed where he was.

The flashlight did another pass but, eventually, the Sheriff returned his attention to Stiles. "Well, young man, I'm gonna walk you back to your car. And you and I are gonna have a conversation about something called invasion of privacy…" He dragged Stiles off by the collar of his jacket, leaving Scott and Malia behind.

Scott knocked his head back against the tree. "Damn it. What do we do now?"

Malia pulled her hood up over her hair even though she could already feel the rain soaking right through. "Start walking."

"Do you even know where we are?"

She took a look around and then nodded. "Yeah, I think I do…"

"You think?"

Malia started back the way they came. "Look, you can either trust me and we can find our way to the road or you can go flag down one of the deputies and explain to your mom why you were running around in the woods at midnight."

Scott frowned, glancing back at the darkening woods, flashlights growing dimmer in the distance, and then sighed. "I do trust you…" He turned back to her. "It's just, we don't have a flashlight and if Stiles leaves, we don't really have a ride."

"He'll probably hang around close by. And I have my phone." Malia dug into her pocket and retrieved it, flicking her thumb around until the flashlight app turned on. "See!"

He half-grinned. "Lead the way then."

Malia took a long look around and then pointed. "This way."

The farther they walked, the more noticeable the sounds of the forest became. Wild animals hadn't really freaked Malia out in the past. She lived close enough to the woods that she was pretty used to it. But here, in this atmosphere, there was something a little eerie about it. Scott moved closer, his shoulder brushing against hers as his head swiveled back and forth, eyes darting.

"We'll be fine," she reassured him.

"What? Yeah, no, I know." He nodded quickly. "It's just… Creepier than I expected."

"You do remember we came out here to look for a body, right?" She stared at him searchingly. "I'm pretty sure it was already creepy."

He smiled slowly. "Okay, yeah, but… I don't know. Stiles made it sound kind of cool."

Malia's lips flattened. "Dead is dead."

Scott winced. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up memories or anything…"

"What's to remember? It's not like I saw the accident."

"No, but…" He gazed at her a moment. "It's gotta be hard, thinking about it."

"It was a long time ago."

"It's family." He shook his head. "Doesn't matter how long it is; they still have an affect on you."

Malia's gaze fell to the ground. Scott wasn't like her and Stiles in that he lost a parent to death, but he'd still lost a parent. Sometimes Malia hated Rafael McCall on principle alone. Other times she hated him because she saw the anger and devastation he'd left in his wake. Malia didn't meet Scott until after his parents had already divorced, but she still saw the lingering after-effects. Like the summers when he was supposed to go visit his dad, or his dad was supposed to visit him, but suddenly he'd be too busy for Scott. Until finally, he stopped calling or making plans at all. Malia sometimes wondered which was worse. To lose a parent that loved you or to have a parent you were sure didn't.

She reached for his hand instinctively and squeezed it tight. "For the record, I only came out here because with your luck, you'd end up some mountain lion's dinner and I'd have to mourn you. Black's not really my color."

His mouth hitched up as he turned to her. "I don't know. I think you pull off that leather jacket pretty well."

"Yeah?" She smirked. "It is my favorite."

"I've noticed."

She looked up at him, her stomach fluttering with the all too annoying presence of butterflies.

Before she could say more, she felt something strange, like the ground was trembling beneath her feet.

"What's wrong?" Scott asked.

She shook her head slowly. "Do you feel that?"

"Feel what?" He looked around them, confused.

They came to a stop in a clearing, fog rolling through the trees ahead. Scott pulled his inhaler out and gave it a shake.

Meanwhile, Malia frowned. Something was off. She could feel it. She just wasn't sure—

Suddenly, deer were darting toward them, leaping through the trees and knocking into each other in their attempt to flee… something.

In the chaos, Scott and Malia were separated, sent darting in opposite directions to avoid the stampede. Malia backed herself up against a tree for cover while Scott was knocked to the ground, covering his head for protection.

Malia lurched forward. "Scott!"

"Stay there!" he yelled back.

Conflicted, she pushed away from the tree, but a deer leapt past her, close enough that it clipped her shoulder and knocked her sideways. Hitting the ground, she reached up to rub her shoulder, wincing as she did.

"Malia?"

"I'm here!" She looked back at him. "Keep low."

"I'm trying."

It felt like forever, but was probably only seconds, a minute tops, before the deer had cleared the area, leaving a shocked and confused Scott laying in the dirt.

Malia stood and wobbled over to him. She dropped to her knees next to him and shook her head. "I don't know what the hell that was, but it's nothing good. We need to get out of here." She grabbed onto his hand and pulled him up from the ground.

"What do you think spooked them?"

"Nothing we want to run into." Her brows hiked. "C'mon."

"Wait. My inhaler." He looked around but couldn't immediately see it. "I dropped it somewhere."

Malia chewed her lip before digging her phone out once more. She was lucky it hadn't been trampled too. "I'll look this way, you look that way."

"Fine, but… Don't go too far away."

Malia grinned back at him. "Don't worry, I'm not going to abandon you out here."

He rolled his eyes and sighed. "We still don't know where that body is or who hurt them."

"I know, I know." She backed up before turning on her heel and continuing to search the ground.

Scott dug his own phone out and started doing the same, searching around the wet leaves and debris for any sign of his inhaler. Walking in a crouched circle, he turned over everything in sight, but still couldn't find it. Just as he was about to call out to Malia to see if she found it, his eyes focused in on—a hand. The light from his phone followed it up almost without thinking. A body. A ghoulish, blood drained face, mouth ajar, down a nude body with a grotesquely severed lower half. Startled, he gave a sharp shout and tumbled backwards. Not realizing just how close he was to the edge of the hill, he quickly began rolling down it, backwards. Knocking into trees and shrubs on the way, when he finally hit the bottom, he gave an achy groan.

Still panicked from what he'd seen, he crawled forward in the dirt and leaves and used a fallen log to pull himself upright. His chest was tight, lungs in desperate need of his inhaler, which made it especially impossible for him to call out to Malia above. That didn't stop him from trying, only to find his voice was little more than a wheeze. Struggling to get to his feet, he brushed himself off and eyed the steep hill. Was it smarter to climb it now and get back to her or to hope his lungs opened enough for him to call out?

Before he could reach an answer, he heard it— a low and terrifying growl…

Above, Malia was still looking for Scott's inhaler and having no luck. Realizing that she had in fact wandered pretty far away from him, she turned to walk back. The closer she got however, the more she noticed just how dark it was. She couldn't see the faint light of Scott's phone screen lighting up the ground at all. Moving forward, she called out to him, "Scott…?"

There was no answer.

Frowning, she picked up speed, jogging back to where they came from.

And then she heard a shout. A pained cry that she was all too familiar with. That was the same noise Scott made when he and Stiles were climbing around on the roof of Scott's porch and he slipped. He broke his arm that day and had to wear a neon pink cast for months after. Six truly awful dick drawings from Stiles later, he banned anyone from signing it. The one and only time she'd signed it, she'd left a simple message: nice balance, dingus – lia. After Scott had it removed, she'd asked him to save her a chunk so she could add it to her memory box at home. He'd apologized later, saying he'd already tossed it. But Malia still thought about it. She'd accidentally added a little heart just before her name without even thinking. And then added a tail and told anyone who asked that it was a butt-shaped balloon and to let it go already.

Hearing him cry out now, she wasn't laughing. Not about his truly stupid decision to get on the roof and horse around with Stiles or the many, many dick drawings he had to walk around with that whole time, or about how he'd stick a fork up between the cast and his skin because it was so itchy. No, now she was afraid.

Abandoning her jog for an outright run, Malia darted toward the top of the hill. Below, she could just make out a large figure on top of a flailing Scott. Panicked, she did the only thing she could think of. She yelled. "Hey!" And when that didn't do anything, she started making more noise and throwing things. "Hey, you furry asshole! Over here!"

Suddenly, Scott was being pitched through the air to roll across the unforgiving ground. And the animal, whatever the hell it was, turned toward her. Malia felt her heart skip a beat.

"Malia, run!" Scott's voice was thick and weak and he was struggling to get his feet under him.

Malia looked from the animal to Scott. He was easy prey. Injured and bleeding. But the animal didn't seem so interested in him now. Instead, he looked really intent on her. Malia swallowed tightly and then turned and ran. She didn't look back. Even as she heard it growling and grunting, climbing up the hill in pursuit of her. She was scared. Absolutely terrified would be more accurate. But, a very small part of her couldn't help but be grateful that if it was chasing her, it wasn't chasing Scott. Survival instinct told her that being happy one of her best friends wasn't being mauled to death was great, but she definitely needed to make sure she also wasn't killed by whatever dark and fury hellbeast was on her tail.

Malia knew the woods well; however, in the dark things were always a little more difficult to navigate. It was strange then that her vision actually seemed to get better instead of worse. She could see the forest bed as easily as if it were daylight out, hear the animals scurrying around her in fear. The terror of what was happening might make some people trip. Too unfocused to watch where they were going. But Malia felt herself moving faster, speeding through the trees with an agility she'd never known before. Her heart pounded in her chest and sweat beaded on her skin, but she never slowed, never tripped, she just kept running. Jumping over logs and slipping through narrow passageways between leaning trees, she bypassed a familiar tree and made her way right out from the treeline and onto the highway.

Her legs were simultaneously like steel and limp noodles beneath her, stomach churning with adrenaline and fear. She looked behind her, vision darting for some sign of the animal. But there was nothing. No sound, no pounding footsteps, no grizzly teeth bearing down on her. She stood in the middle of the highway, soaking wet, panting, and staring at a seemingly calm forest.

But then, a sound. A howl breaking through the trees and trailing up to the night sky.

Malia shivered.

"Hey!"

Startled, she whipped her head to the right, only to see— "Scott!" She darted toward him and threw her arms around his neck, drawing him into a hug. "Are you okay? I thought… It was right on top of you."

"Yeah." One of his arms banded around her waist. "It got me, too. Took a bite right out of my side."

"What?" She leaned back and looked down. "How bad is it?"

He grimaced. "Bad enough."

Malia looked up at him worriedly. "I lost my phone. I can't even call for help."

"We'll have to walk."

"Scott, you're injured!"

"We don't really have a choice. Unless someone happens to drive by this way. The only car I saw nearly ran me over."

She pursed her lips, but he wasn't wrong. Following the trails might lead them somewhere, but going back into the woods wasn't an option. Even if that thing—which she was quickly starting to believe was a wolf— wasn't around, Scott was bleeding, which meant he could attract any number of other animals their way.

"Come on…" She hooked his arm over her shoulder and started walking. "Your place is closer. We can figure it out there."

Scott nodded, his expression twisting with pain as his side pulled. There was no real option but to keep going, so they did.

By the time they finally reached his house, it was well after two in the morning. Melissa was either asleep or still at the hospital. Malia guessed the latter when she didn't come out, demanding to know what all the noise was as Malia helped Scott climb the stairs. They weren't exactly quiet with him complaining and her telling him to suck it up.

"You'd make a terrible doctor," Scott decided, his voice tight. "Shitty bedside manner."

Malia snorted. "Well, gee, another job opportunity lost." She helped him over to his bed, kicking his door closed behind her, and then walked into the en suite bathroom to dig around for the first aid kid his mom kept well stocked. "We need to clean out the bite and bandage it. And a rabies shot wouldn't hurt, but you don't seem to have any of that laying around."

He let out a huffing laugh. "I'll keep it in mind for next time."

"Not a bad idea." Wetting a clot with hot water, Malia brought the kit over to the bed. "Let me see it."

He shook his head, wincing. "It's fine. I can do it."

"Scott, seriously. You're in pain and I want to help. Just lift up your shirt. It's not like I haven't see you without one before. A little skin isn't going to scare me."

"What about a lot of blood?" He dragged the wet fabric up and Malia was greeted with the gruesome site of his torn skin. A perfect bite was formed right along his side, just above his hip.

"Whatever that thing was, it wasn't playing…" Malia dabbed around the bite with the cloth. When he hissed, she winced. "Sorry, but I need to clean it out. There's dirt and junk…"

"The iodine should help with bacteria."

Malia nodded. She finished cleaning up the wound as best she could and then poured the iodine over it.

Scott cried out, squeezing his eyes shut and arching his back as pain ripped through him.

"I'm sorry…" she whispered, every muscle in her body tensing up.

"S'okay…" He fell back, sweat dotting his brow. "S'fine, just… wrap it. Please?"

Nodding, she grabbed up the bandage and tore it open. "Stay still."

Scott didn't answer but he did listen to her as she carefully placed the bandage over his wound and smoothed the sticky sides down so it would stay in place. "There. I still think you should see a real doctor and get a rabies shot, but this should hold you over for now."

Scott let out a shaky breath and didn't say anything.

Malia leaned over him and grabbed at the end of his shirt.

His eyes opened slowly, blinked a few times, and then struggled to focus on her. "Wha…?"

"I'm taking this off. The last thing you need is to fall asleep in a gross, bloody shirt. Come on, lift up…"

But Scott was too exhausted from all that happened, leaving Malia to do all the heavy lifting as she shuffled his wet shirt off and threw it in the direction of the garbage. With the blood and holes in it, it was hardly salvageable. "You want me to take your pants off too or do you got that?"

"Hmm?"

Tucking her damp hair behind her ears, she leaned closer to him, searching his face. "You can't sleep in your wet clothes. You'll get pneumonia and die."

He blinked up at her, a faint smile pulling at his lips. "Dramatic."

Malia rolled her eyes. "Just saying. Totally a possibility."

He let out a puff of air before reaching down to unbutton the top of his jeans, but only managed to get the zipper half way down.

Impatient, Malia reached down for him. "Let me…" She yanked down the zipper and then tugged on either side of his jeans to get them to shift down his hips.

If she was honest with herself, this wouldn't be the first time she'd thought of undressing Scott. It was just never under these circumstances. Seeing him hurt and in pain wasn't exactly what she'd call sexy. Instead, it was unnerving. She got his jeans off and tossed them toward the laundry basket before helping him shift higher on the bed and then reaching for the covers to pull them over and tuck them in around him. "There. That should keep you warm. I'm gonna get you some Tylenol and a glass of water, okay?"

Just as she was about to walk away, he reached for her, his fingers coiling around her wrist. "Don't go," he said, his voice quiet, heavy with exhaustion.

She wasn't even sure he was aware of what he was saying. There was a good chance he'd wake up tomorrow and not remember anything past the animal attack, or even before it since trauma had a funny affect on some people.

"I'll be right back."

He hummed, his eyes already half closed.

Malia left his room to make her way downstairs. She filled a glass with water and then rummaged around for some Tylenol in the main bathroom. Malia knew it well since Melissa kept it stocked with Midol and she occasionally had to borrow some off her for whenever that time of the month sprung on her, bringing with it massive cramps and bloating. For that and a thousand other reasons, Melissa McCall was a godsend. Which was why Malia felt a little bad about not immediately calling her to tell her that Scott had been hurt. But, on the walk back to his place, Scott had been adamant that he not go to the hospital or worry his mom. Malia didn't agree, but she also didn't want to completely disregard Scott's feelings on the matter.

Taking the water and Tylenol back upstairs, she put it on his bedside table along with the phone from downstairs. At least that way if something did go wrong, he had it nearby so he could call for help. It was that thought, that something could go wrong and nobody would be there, that kept Malia rooted in place. After a few minutes of indecision, she dragged his desk chair over and took a seat. She'd just stay a little while, make sure he was okay. Maybe Melissa would come home soon and Malia could walk back to her place. Crossing her arms over herself, she grimaced at how damp and uncomfortable her clothes were.

Eventually, she couldn't stand it and walked over to Scott's dresser to dig around for something to wear. Stealing a pair of shorts and a loose muscle-tee, she walked into the bathroom to change. When she came out, she was surprised to see his eyes were open and watching her.

"How do you feel?"

"Like a giant wolf bit me."

She searched his face. "Hospital?"

He shook his head.

"Stubborn," she muttered.

"You're one to talk." He smiled faintly. "C'mere."

She walked toward him, arms crossed loose over her front.

Carefully, Scott shuffled back in his bed, his face taut with pain. He shifted the blanket up and nodded at her. "If you're staying, you might as well be comfortable."

Malia hesitated. She and Scott had shared the same bed before. He, Stiles, and her had all stayed over at each other's places a thousand times in the past. Usually, she took the floor or the couch or a separate air mattress. The one time she shared the same bed with Stiles, they slept with their heads on opposite ends of the mattress. Not a pleasant experience being that close to his feet. So, this was different. Very different. And given her recent realization that she maybe, kind of had a crush on Scott, she wasn't sure how smart it was to climb into bed with him.

"Lia…" He stared up at her, looking oh so tired. "It's late, come on. You can't walk home now and I know you're worried. So just…" He ruffled the blanket in a 'get in here' motion.

If there was ever a more glaring reminder that Scott didn't see her in a romantic light whatsoever, this was it. Here he was, inviting her to hop into bed with him like it was nothing. Like there was no chance of it being awkward because she was just, well, her. His best friend and nothing more. A tiny fracture zinged across her heart, but with a deep breath, she slapped a Band-Aid on it and told herself to woman up. He was right. It was late and she wanted to be sure he lived through the night. What better vantage point than right beside him?

She slid into bed next to him and settled on her side, faced away from him, toward the alarm clock that she could read the blurry red numbers of through the glass of water. Scott settled behind her, shifting to get comfortable before letting out a long sigh. His warm breath skittered across her neck and she bit her lip.

"You remember the last sleepover we had?" he asked, his voice thick with oncoming sleep.

Malia cast her memory back a few months to Halloween. After Stiles argued that they could definitely still get away with trick r' treating, they'd dressed up and hit the town for some free candy. Which was only slightly dampened by Stiles' complaints over them leaving him out of their joint costume of Vincent Vega and Mia Wallace from Pulp Fiction. Meanwhile, Stiles was left wearing a Robin costume he had from a couple Halloweens ago that he actually seemed offended he hadn't outgrown.

Eventually tiring of trick r' treating, they'd headed back to Scott's for a scary movie marathon which bled into a sleepover. Stiles fell asleep on the arm chair, legs and head dangling over either arm, a bowl of half-eaten popcorn still in his lap. Meanwhile, Malia laid on the couch, watching the end of a slasher movie while Scott laid on the floor below, hands stacked on his stomach, eyes at half-mast. Sometimes, she just listened to him breathe. There was some weird fear in the back of her mind that one day, because of his asthma, he'd just stop. At some point, her arm had slipped off the side of the couch and her hand landed over his chest. And she felt it, his heartbeat pumping steadily beneath her fingertips. So, she didn't pull away; she just left it there, drawing comfort from it. And Scott, half asleep, covered her hand with his own, the warmth of his skin sinking into her own.

It wasn't the first time she wondered if she had feelings for him. That was when she was fourteen years old and her period had struck unexpectedly, causing her to bleed through her very white jeans. And a heroic Scott not only gave her his sweater to wrap around her waist so nobody would notice, but later rode his bike all the way out to her house to deliver her chocolate, a heating pad, and one of his mom's favorite romance movies.

But still, that Halloween night, with her hand over his heart and her own pounding unevenly in her chest, she realized that 'like' and 'crush' and 'puppy love' were as inaccurate as a label could get. Because it felt big. It felt monumental. And it somehow comforted and scared her shirtless in equal measure.

Shaking herself out of her memory, she said, "On Halloween?"

"Yeah."

"What about it?"

"Do you still have that wig?"

Malia turned her head over her shoulder. "Do you still have that bolo tie?"

He grinned. "Yeah. I love that thing."

"You should wear it more often." She turned herself over to face him and rested her head in the cradle of her arm. "Do you still have your wig?"

"No." His nose wrinkled. "Too itchy."

Malia looked up at his mop of shaggy hair and smiled. "It's almost long enough to pull in a ponytail now."

"Is not." He reached up self-consciously. "Does it look bad?"

She stared at him a beat. Sometimes, he surprised her. Scott McCall was one of the kindest people she'd ever known. There wasn't a cruel bone in his body. He loved his friends and his family with the kind of tenacity that should be admired. But so few people ever seemed to notice what a good person he was. It was weird to her, to think that he had anything to be self-conscious about. "Your hair is fine."

"You sure? You took a while to answer."

She snorted. "I'm sure." She reached out to press a hand against his chest, giving him a little shove. "Now go to sleep. You have to be up bright and early so you can make first line, remember?"

His grin turned goofy then. "You think I will?"

"Nobody else deserves it more."

"That's just a polite way of saying probably not, but in a supportive way, right?"

Malia bit the inside of her cheek. "Listen, if I'm going to get dragged to every foreseeable lacrosse game, then you better be on the team and in the field." She poked him. "No more bench warming. I want to see goals or nets or whatever they call them."

He rolled his eyes. "You know how lacrosse is played."

"I know a lot of boys run around with sticks and chase balls. I can name at least two other sports that do that."

He reached up and made an 'X' across his heart. "I promise to try my best to get on the team tomorrow so you'll have something entertaining to watch."

She nodded. "That's all I ask."

Taking a deep breath, he let it out on a yawn.

Which made Malia yawn.

Which, in turn, made him yawn a second time.

Which then—

"Ugh…" She reached over and covered his face with her hand. "Go to sleep or we'll be at this all night."

Scott, not uncharacteristically, licked her palm in response.

"Ew!" Malia wiped it on his shoulder and then hugged her arm to her chest. "If I get rabies because your infected saliva touched my hand…"

He snorted a laugh. "I think you're safe."

"If you say so…"

He smiled at her. "I do."

With a hum, Malia moved her arm to settle her head on the pillow. "If you wake up and I'm gone, I've snuck home so my dad doesn't freak," she warned.

Eyes already closed, Scott hummed.

Malia watched him a little longer, his face relaxed and his shaggy hair falling across his forehead. She curled her fingers against her palm to keep from reaching out to touch him. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and willed herself to sleep.

...

Malia slipped out just after 5 am, before the sun had even risen. Her clothes were still damp from the night before, so she snagged a pair of Scott's sweat pants and one of his sweaters on her way out. To be honest, that was pretty common practice with her. She had plenty of Scott's and Stiles' clothes at her place. Eventually, she'd give them back, when they'd outlived their purpose anyway.

It was quiet that early in the morning, with very few cars on the road and only the sound of crickets interrupting the peace. She wasn't surprised to see her dad hadn't woken up yet. She easily crept back into her room, closing her window and climbing back into bed to find Shiloh curled up on the end. Sleepy and happy, Shiloh climbed up the bed to lay closer to her, rolling herself over to lay against Malia's stomach.

Smiling tiredly, Malia stroked her hand down Shiloh's back as she let her eyes close to get another forty minutes of sleep before she had to get up and ready for the first day back at school. Given just how late it was before they fell asleep, she had a feeling it was going to be a very long day.

Her pre-set alarm was like a jackhammer against her brain, but she slapped a hand down against it and rolled out of bed. Her legs felt sore and overstretched, but there was nothing she could do but take a nice, hot shower. After getting dressed, she made herself some scrambled eggs and toast and waited for the inevitable.

It was just after seven when the familiar honk of Stiles' horn let her know he was there. Grabbing up her bag, she hurried outside and crossed the overgrown lawn in long, quick strides. Hopping into the familiar blue Jeep that was held together with more duct tape than was probably safe, she was surprised to see him giving her a look, his brows raised high on his forehead.

Feeling defensive, she asked, "What?"

"What you mean 'what?' You wanna tell me what happened last night after my dad ran me off?"

She sighed. "Long story."

"Well, clearly you survived it." He put the Jeep into gear and pulled away, headed back toward the main road. "How's Scott? When'd you guys get home?"

"Honestly, it took a while."

"I tried to come back but dad had one of his deputies tail my ass all the way back to the house."

"It's fine. We're both fine. At least, I think we are. Scott was actually bitten by something last night…"

"No way!"

"Yes way and don't look so excited." She socked his shoulder.

"I'm not excited." He said that, but he was definitely bouncing in his seat. "I'm curious!"

"With you those are basically the same thing."

He shrugged. "Touché."

"We were headed to the road to see if we could catch a ride back with you, but the weirdest thing happened."

"Strong words, but I'm listening…"

"These deer just came running through the trees. They nearly trampled us. Scott lost his inhaler in the scuffle so we started looking for it. We split up to make it easier—"

"What? No, no, no. First rule of any horror movie. You never split up."

"Okay, but this was real life. And also, you were the one that dragged us out into the creepy, dark words looking for a severed body."

"I did not drag you there… I carefully convinced and slightly manipulated you into going. There's a difference."

Malia rolled her eyes. "Anyway… The next thing I know, Scott is being attacked by this giant, furry… thing. I made noise to try and get its attention, but it still managed to bite him before it took off after me."

"Wait, it chased you. Are you hurt?"

"No, it never caught up." She shook her head. "I made it out to the road and found Scott. We walked back to his place to get the wound cleaned out and bandaged, since he wouldn't let me call for help or anything."

"But, he's okay?"

"He was last I saw him. Which was like two hours ago, so…"

Stiles paused. "So, you slept over."

"Well, I was kind of freaked out that he might die in his sleep, so yeah."

"Right, sure." He nodded. "Not like there's any other reason you might wanna stay over at Scott's place. Maybe play nurse, cuddle him back to health, wipe his sweaty brow until your eyes meet in the middle and—"

"Should I be reading between the lines here about your secret crush on Scott?"

"What? No. I've never made a secret of that." He grinned at her lightly. "Look, all I'm saying is that I'm not blind. I know how you feel about him and it's okay."

Malia frowned and dug around in her bag as a distraction. "No idea what you're talking about." She found the unopened bag of licorice she'd put in there the night before and tore open the top to pull out a strip.

"Malia, seriously. I've known you since you were like, ten. I know what you look like when you've got a crush and—" He reached over to snag the licorice out of her hand. "C'mon, it's not even 8 in the morning. Have a little restraint."

"Hey!" She reached over and flicked his cheek irritably. "I paid money for that."

"No, you wasted money on that. What happened to eating healthier, huh? You don't have yogurt in there or something?"

"No. Ew. And stop policing my eating habits, dad."

He stared at her a beat. "You know, I don't hate you calling me that…"

Rolling her eyes, she crossed her arms over her chest and turned her attention out the window. "You suck."

"Actually, I'm the opposite of that, because I'm an amazing friend who is just trying to tell you that I fully support this whole Scott/Malia mash-up."

"There is no mash-up. We're friends! Like you and me."

"Eh. Not really." He shook his head. "Don't get me wrong, you guys have been friends for years. But at some point, natural human hormones snuck in and started pulling strings. It's fine. You actually kind of balance each other out. He's all nice and kind and a little dopey. You're all blunt and grumpy and irritable."

"Wow, thank you for that flattering description of my personality…"

"Hey, I like that about you. You're unapologetically yourself. And you're not always irritable. You just don't make it a habit to pretend you're in a good mood when you aren't." He paused. "You know what, I could've phrased that better. I'm just saying, you guys work with each other."

"Oh my God, Stiles, stop. Scott and I aren't anything." She leaned deep against her seat, her shoulders hunched. "He doesn't see me that way, okay?"

"He doesn't see you that way… Meaning you see him…" His gaze darted from the road to her, back and forth repeatedly. "So, you're admitting it, right?"

"Are you driving slower than usual? How are we not at school yet?"

"C'mon, just answer the question." He wiggled his eyebrows at her. "I promise I won't make fun of you."

"Bullshit," she muttered.

"All right, I'll make fun of you a little, but just a tiny bit. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't?"

Malia sighed, long and loud. "I need more girlfriends."

"For sleepovers and pillow fights?"

"For everything." She glared up at him, her chin resting on her chest. "Boys suck. And they smell."

"What? I put extra deodorant on today…" He ducked his head to check his armpits and frowned. "I smell good. What's wrong with your nose?"

She perked up when she saw the school ahead. "Don't say a word of this conversation to Scott. I'm serious. I don't want him acting weird around me."

"You mean because you're in love with him."

Malia stared at him a beat and then reached over and gave his face a shove.

"Malia!" he cried. "You wanna cause an accident? Geez. I could've crashed!"

"Put us both out of our misery then."

Stiles had barely put the Jeep in park before she was climbing out. Slamming the door behind her, harder than really necessary, she ignored Stiles' cry of 'be gentle' and instead made her way down the sidewalk toward the school, pulling out another piece of licorice to stick between her teeth before she hitched her bag over her shoulder.

Up ahead, Malia watched as Scott locked his bike up at the ramp, exchanging words with Jackson Whittemore in the process. She frowned to herself, only dragging her eyes away when Stiles came to a stumbling stop next to her.

"You couldn't wait for me?"

She shrugged.

"Scotty!" Stiles called out, waving excitedly toward their best friend, as if he hadn't just seen him last night.

Scott walked toward them, lopsided smile in place. "Hey."

"Hey," Stiles nodded back. "So, let's see this thing."

Scott laid his bag down on the ground and dragged his shirt up, revealing the bandaging underneath, spotted with blood in places.

"Ooh!" Stiles reached out, measuring his hand against the size of the bandage.

Worried he was about to touch it, Scott jumped back an inch. "Whoa!"

Stiles held his hands up in apology, but continued to grimace down at the covered wound.

"It was too dark to see much…" Scott dropped his shirt in place and picked his bag up. "But I'm pretty sure it was a wolf."

Together, the three of them started toward the school.

"A wolf bit you?" Stiles repeated, unconvinced.

"Uh- huh."

"No, not a chance."

"I heard a wolf howling." He looked to Malia for confirmation, who nodded.

"So did I."

"No, you didn't," Stiles insisted, looking between them. "I don't know what you heard, but it wasn't a wolf."

Malia frowned. "How do you know?"

"Because." Stiles laughed. "California doesn't have wolves, okay? Not in like 60 years."

"Really?"

They came to a stop just outside of the doors leading inside the school, lingering at the foot of the stairs.

"Yes, really. There are no wolves in California."

Scott's brow furrowed before finally, he shrugged. "All right, well, if you don't believe me about the wolf, then you're definitely not gonna believe me about when I tell you I found the body…"

"Wait, what?" Malia turned toward him. "You never mentioned you found the body."

Scott reached over and stole her licorice from between her teeth, taking a bite off the end. "I kind of forgot. Intense pain and all that."

"You—" Stiles whole body vibrated with excitement. "Are you kidding me?"

"No, man, I wish." He grimaced. "I'm gonna have nightmares for a month."

"You should've said something." Malia stared at him, her brow furrowed. "Wait, is that why you were moving around so much? I just thought your side was bugging you…"

Scott stared at her, his brows hiked. "Uh… Yeah, well. I mean, kind of. It was a little… I was just uncomfortable."

"Uncomfortable how?" She reached for his side, plucking at his shirt. "Like it's infected?"

"No, no, not that. I mean, yes that, but also… not." He winced. "I just meant… uh…"

Still freaking out a little, Stiles seemed unaware of the conversation happened between them, instead reaching out to grip either of their shoulders and giving them a shake. "This is freakin' awesome! I mean, this is seriously gonna be the best thing that's happened to this town since—" His attention darted past them and his eyes lit up.

Malia didn't have to look back to know exactly who was about to walk past.

"—since the birth of Lydia Martin," Stiles said, a little more loudly than necessary. "Hey, Lydia! You look… like you're gonna ignore me…"

As expected, Lydia marched right on past him without so much as a glance.

Malia rolled her eyes.

Turning back to Scott, Stiles said, "You're the cause of this, you know."

Amused, Scott merely smiled. "Uh-huh."

"Dragging me down to your nerd depths. I'm a nerd by association. I've been scarlet-nerded by you."

"Aren't you the one that talks Star Trek all the time?" Malia reminded him.

"It's Star Wars and I know you know the difference, you just say that to annoy me."

She smirked.

"Evil. You're evil. Both of you are."

"Does that make you evil by association, too?" Scott wondered.

"Oh, hah, he's got jokes. That's funny."

Scott grinned, pleased with himself.

The bell rang shrilly in the background and Malia sighed. She grabbed her licorice out of Scott's hand and started up the stairs.

"Hey!" Scott followed after her, Stiles right behind him.

"Hey, what? It was mine first."

"Yeah, but now it has my cooties on it."

"What is this, third grade?" She bit off the end and then waggled the rest in his face. "After six years, I think I'm immune."

"Never know for sure." He snagged it from her hand and then hurried ahead, making his way to his locker.

Malia bit her lip to hide a grin.

"Not flirting at all, totally platonic," Stiles muttered from beside her.

"Shut up," she said, knocking his shoulder with her own.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're violent?"

"Frequently."

"Never took the hint, huh?"

She snorted and then cut across the hall toward her locker. Digging out what she needed for English, she tossed it in her bag, closed her locker, and then joined Scott and Stiles in the walk to their English class. As everyone filed in, Malia took a seat in front of Stiles and directly across from Scott.

At the front of the classroom, Mr. Edwards was writing on the whiteboard, scrawling 'Kafka's Metamorphosis' in black felt as he told them, "As you all know, there indeed was a body found in the woods last night. And I am sure your eager little minds are coming up with various macabre scenarios as to what happened… But, I am here to tell you that the police have a suspect in custody—"

Scott shifted in his seat to look back at Stiles, who shrugged, surprised by the news.

"—which means you can give your undivided attention to the syllabus which is on your desk outlining this semester."

Malia had her pencil case on her desk and was already pulling out her highlighters. According to Stiles, she over-highlighted everything. According to Malia, it helped her focus. This way, she could separate everything into individual categories of 'priority,' which could only be helpful when it came time to study for tests.

While Edwards started going over the outline with them, Malia went through her three-pronged system of highlighting things from low to medium to high priority, her legs crossed underneath her and her shoulders hunched as she focused. School wasn't exactly her favorite place to be, but it wasn't her least favorite either. She just didn't have the same drive as Scott or Stiles. They already knew what they wanted to do with their lives while Malia was somewhat floundering on what she wanted to do that week. Stiles was going to run off and become a badass FBI agent as soon as he had the chance, while Scott was already looking at what vet schools were both high quality and close to home. Don't get her wrong, she loved her friends, and she was proud of them. She just hated that she couldn't be as sure as them. They were halfway through their sophomore year and she felt like everybody around her already had a ten-year plan.

Malia was startled out of her thoughts by the classroom door swinging open to admit Vice Principal James and what looked like a new, and very nervous, student.

"Class," the Vice Principal said, tucking his hands in the pockets of his dress pants, "this is our new student. Allison Argent. Please do your best to make her feel welcome."

As he left, Allison started down the aisle toward the only free desk.

She was pretty. Tall and willowy with long dark hair and a nervous but sweet smile. She walked with her head slightly down, her fingers tugging at the cuffs of her jacket. Sliding into the seat just behind Scott, shed hooked her bag around the back of her chair and then turned forward, only to find Scott facing her, a pen held aloft.

Malia watched, a pit forming in her stomach, as Allison smiled, accepting the pen, and Scott took his time turning around.

Malia wasn't jealous. She didn't get jealous. It was a stupid, outdated feeling that she had no right to, because she and Scott were just friends. But, as she dragged her gaze away from them, looking instead to her over-highlighted syllabus, she couldn't help but feel like something had just massively shifted in the dynamics of her life. And she wasn't sure she liked it.

tbc

author's note: i've been working on this for a while and i didn't want to post it until i had a good chunk of it ready. as you can see, it fleshes out a lot more of what's happened than what the show does. which means that each episode will take much more than a chapter. this is heavily malia focused and while it sticks with the direction of the show, she will go and do her own thing, meaning that not every scene of the show will be rewritten to add her. for instance, i skip over a lot of lacrosse practices and just have the boys tell malia anything pertinent while she's dealing with things elsewhere.

also, malia's werecoyote history will be addressed in the course of the story. it's one of many plots happening.

as much as scott/malia is definitely a huge part of this, i also wanted malia to have a strong friendship with stiles and allison and eventually lydia, so there's that to look forward to.

i hope, with the show ending, that many of you will still continue to read tw fic and stick with me on this season 1 rewrite! i have plenty to share and am eager to see how you enjoy this remix of sorts.

thank you all for reading, please try to leave a review! this story was no small undertaking and i've put a lot of time and effort into it!
- Lee | Fina