01

"Scott." Malia's voice was muted, almost a whisper, and accompanied by the gentle touch of her hand to his shoulder, drawing him from his dark thoughts. Lifting his head, he saw the sadness, the sympathy lining her face as she looked at him. "It's over. We should go."

Her words didn't immediately get through, his mind too muddled to fully grasp her meaning, but when she held out her hand for him to take, he reflexively reached for it, a lifeline in the storm raging internally. She grasped his hand hard, her skin warm against his, and pulled him to his feet. Silent, unresisting, he let her lead him out of the clinic, past an exhausted Deaton, whose shirt was soaked through with blood and God knew what else. Argent was sitting on the floor next to him, slumped down, legs spread, gun discarded carelessly next to him. They both looked defeated, broken, and neither said a word as she led her Alpha away, out into the cool night air.

The ride home was a blur to Scott, the world feeling like it was disconnected, moving by him at a different speed than he was going. He sat in the passenger-side seat next to Malia, head resting against the glass of the window, staring out at nothing, seeing nothing. She never let go of his hand, shooting him worried looks as she drove the familiar streets back to his house.

The McCall home was dark, all lights off when she pulled into the driveway. Moving on autopilot, he opened the door and climbed out, movements slow, mechanical. He didn't even make it around the nose of the car before she was back at his side, her hand in his once again, leading him up the path to the front door. She never paused, retrieving the spare key from under the gnome on the porch without releasing him and letting them both inside. It was empty, silent inside, his mom still at the hospital, probably dealing with the fallout of the missing patient, the man now lying dead on the examination table back at the animal clinic.

"Upstairs."

Her voice was still soft, but firm, commanding, and he hazily did as instructed, too detached from reality in the moment to do anything else. He walked up the steps slowly, boots heavy like they'd been dipped in concrete, each step sounding in his ears like a gunshot. He felt her presence right behind him the entire way, staying close but not touching, just in case, and in a faraway part of his mind he was only vaguely aware of, he felt his affection, his appreciation for her tick up just a little further. But at the moment, he was too far gone, too lost, to really process it.

Into his room they went, and before he could collapse on the bed, he felt her hands fall on his waist, turning him toward his bathroom. "Shower first," she said, directing him toward the door. "You need to wash the blood off."

He didn't resist, letting her guide him forward until he was standing before the shower. Her hands disappeared then, a second before he heard the door close behind them. Then they were back, gently turning him to face her. She didn't look up as her fingers went to work, deftly undoing the buttons of his shirt. At her insistence, he spread his arms, staring blankly over her shoulder as she stripped off the garment and dropped it on the floor, leaving him standing there, naked from the waist up. Dodging around him, she turned on the shower, as he stood there, unmoving, then reclaimed her spot in front of him.

"Scott," she said, reaching out with both hands, resting them on his belt. He could feel the warmth of her skin just millimetres from his own. "Get in the shower. It will help, okay? You'll feel better after. Hey!" Her sharp exclamation jarred him back to reality for a second, and he finally focused on her, eyes meeting hers. "Scott, you need to do this. You need to clean yourself up. Do you understand?" She held his gaze until he nodded jerkily, expression lost but eyes clearer, more aware than they had been. "I'll just be out there."

He waited until she left before he dropped his pants and got under the warm spray. It was hot, scalding, but he didn't even make a sound. He just stood there under the showerhead, letting the powerful spray beat down on his tense back. His body ached all over, every cut and scrape burning under the water, painful reminders that what he'd gone through this night hadn't been entirely emotional. In a way, he was almost glad to feel the sting, the physical pain something he was used to dealing with. He knew it would go away, the cuts would heal. The other, he wasn't so sure.

A brief distraction appeared then in the form of the door opening again. Curious, he looked up, but between the steam and the shower curtain, he couldn't see anything. A second later, the door closed again, and he heard his bed springs squeak, and put the whole thing out of mind.

Only when the water began to turn cold around him did Scott finally shut off the spray. He stood there for a moment, letting the water drip off him, before he climbed out and reached for a towel. As he dried off, he spotted a pair of his sweatpants sitting on the counter, the bloody clothes he'd stripped off nowhere in sight, and felt a little grateful smile tug at his lips.

When he stepped back out into his room, he found Malia sitting cross-legged on his bed, clad in one of his shirts. She took one look at him and beckoned him forward, welcoming him in. He fell into bed beside her, slipping below the covers, and letting her pull him into a powerful embrace. At her insistence, he turned on his side, breathing slowly as he felt her mould herself to his back.

"It'll be okay." Her breath was warm against his neck, just like her body, pressed tight against him. "Get some sleep. Everything's gonna be fine."

Closing his eyes, he let himself slip away, letting himself take comfort in the feeling of her next to him, the steady beat of her heart, the scent that was as familiar to him now as his own. It was almost easy there, in that moment, with her all around him, to focus on her, her face, her smile, her laughter, all his thoughts and memories of her, let that push aside the pain and the hurt. He buried all his negativity in the deepest part of his mind, knowing it wasn't gone, just hidden for now, and accepting that. He could deal with it later, tomorrow, when he wasn't so broken. For now, he had this. He had her. He faded into the blessed numbness of slumber with her face in his mind.

-l-l-l-l-

When Scott awoke, he had no idea how long he'd slept. Sunlight was peeking through his window, soft, muted, but bright enough to make him blink blearily as he swam back to consciousness. All he knew was he was pleasantly warm, his various aches and pain from the night before healed, lost to time.

Gradually, as the fog of slumber drifted away, his memories returned. The fight, the flight, the loss, the pain. He could feel that little ball of darkness he'd pushed away starting to expand, but it was slowed by the dawning realisation he wasn't alone. Malia was still there, still wrapped around him, like she was trying to shield him from the outside world. Just like her presence was helping defend against the threats inside his head. He could feel the solid thrum of her heart against his back, her legs intertwined with his, arms wrapped tight around his midsection, her breathing even, soft and steady in his ear. His guardian.

Struck by a sudden, irresistible urge to see her face, he slowly rolled over, taking as much care as he could not to wake her. Her breathing stuttered slightly as he settled in facing her, but he held still, and after a second, she relaxed back into sleep.

In his new position, he was free to study her sleeping face. He couldn't help but smile softly at the peace he saw there, the lack of fear or worry he'd seen far too much of in her lately. If he had his way, her mind would never be burdened by anything negative ever again. But that was out of his hands. He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she was going to be with him, stick by his side, no matter how dark things got. She'd proven that already. He couldn't shelter her from any of it, no matter how badly he'd like to, just as she couldn't do for him. All either of them could do was what she had last night, give comfort and brief but necessary relief from the seemingly constant pain. And he would do the same for her every time she needed it, because he knew what he was looking at.

Scott wasn't just looking at Malia. He wasn't looking at the solitary girl he'd taken into his pack. He wasn't looking at the werecoyote he'd brought back to humanity. He wasn't even looking at the girl who'd become one of his closest friends. He was looking at his future, at everything he fought for.

The words that had been dying to get out for weeks, for months, remained unsaid, but the feeling was there and he wasn't fighting it anymore. He'd resisted, at the beginning, worried about hurting their friendship, that maybe she didn't want him like he wanted her. But no more. It was no longer a matter of holding back but rather timing. When the moment came, he'd tell her exactly how he felt, and he had no fear in his heart she would turn him down or run from him. Because he knew her, better than he knew almost anybody. They'd seen each other at their most vulnerable, at their weakest, their smallest, and neither had flinched. That meant something to him, something massive, something world-shaking, and he would bet everything he'd ever owned that it meant the same to her.

He loved her. He knew that. Loved her in a way he'd never loved anyone before. And he'd tell her, sooner rather than later. The moment would come. He would be ready.

For now, he contented himself with reached out and tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She stirred slightly when his hand brushed her cheek, and he slowly drew back as her eyes cracked open. For a moment, neither of them said anything, just looking into each other's eyes and soaking up the new sense of intimacy between them.

"Morning," she finally said, breaking the comfortable silence before it stretched on too long. Her voice was soft, gentle.

"Morning." He was sure his face was about to crack from the smile on it, but in the moment, he couldn't bring himself to care. "Thank you. For last night. For..." He trailed off into a sheepish chuckle. "For putting up with me, I guess. I don't know—I kinda lost it for a little there, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to see that and... and take care of me. You shouldn't have to—"

"Hey, stop," she interjected, cutting him off, arching an eyebrow until he closed his mouth and gestured her to say what she had to say. "I didn't have to do anything. I chose to. Because you needed it. And because I wanted to help. I..." She faded into a silence for a moment and pursed her lips, uncharacteristically hesitant. "I—I care about you, and if I can help you, I'm gonna do it."

"Okay," he said softly, hand finding hers on the bed between them and squeezing softly. "Thank you. For helping. For being here. For... for everything."

Her face lit up with a smile, bright and open and meant only for him. "Any time."

Silence settled between them then, as they just lied there together, warm and comfortable and unable to look away. Scott was sure his feelings were written all over his face, but he was more interested in what he saw on hers. She wasn't subtle, never had been, and as he'd slowly grown aware of his own change in feelings toward her, it became clearer and clearer that things weren't one-sided. But the connection had never been as obvious, as open as it was now. He knew then his moment had come.

There were a couple ways he could have done it. He could have just started talking, confessed his feelings, told her what he wished, what he wanted. He could have worked up to it, tried to get her to say it first, admit what he could see plain as day on her face. But in the end, none of that felt quite right. Instead, he let his instincts take over and did what came naturally.

The kiss started soft, gentle, giving her every opportunity to pull back, to push him away. But she didn't. Lifting her head slightly, she slanted her mouth against his, months of pent-up attraction finally allowed to come out in a single, physical expression. When she suddenly pulled away, breaking contact, he didn't even have time to react before he found himself rolled onto his back. In true Malia fashion, she took control, straddling his waist, her lips finding his again as her hands settled into the pillow on either side of his head.

When they broke apart, she let out a breathless huff halfway between a giggle and a sigh and licked her lips. Scott just beamed up at her, his heartbeat loud in his ears, matching hers as they looked into each other's eyes.

"So..." She arched an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth quirking up in a grin. "How long have you been waiting to do that?"

A little burst of happy laughter escaped him then as he let his head sink back into the pillow. It felt good to laugh after everything that had happened. Almost as good as the lingering tingle of her on his lips, the feeling of her body pressing down on him, of the revelation of what had been hidden for so long.

"Too long," he admitted, unable to keep the elated grin off his face. "Way too long. How about you?"

Instead of replying, she leaned back down and kissed him again. He was only too happy to go along with that, secure in the knowledge that the words would come later. If she wanted to, he'd talk all day. About her. About him. About them. About whatever she wanted. But right now, it just felt right to lose himself in this, in her, before the outside world could creep back in and cast a shadow on the brightness of the moment. So he did, revelling in the feel, the scent, the taste of her and tuning out everything else. None of it mattered. Not right now.

Unfortunately, the world had a way of inserting itself into situations no matter how unwanted it was. In this case, that unwelcome appearance came in the form of a ringing phone. A little preoccupied, neither of them reacted at first. But slowly the sound filtered through the pleasant fog in Scott's mind, drawing him back to reality.

"I guess that's our sign," he said, letting out a weary sigh as Malia pulled back, frowning at his phone as it vibrated on the table next to the bed. Reaching out, she snatched it up, but when he lifted his hand to take it from her, she sat up, holding it just out of his reach. "Malia, come on. It could be—"

"No!" His shrank back into his pillow, caught off-guard by the vehemence in her voice. "You need a break. We all need a break. Look at you. The phone rings and it's like the weight of the world is pressing on your shoulders again." Her eyes were flashing as she spoke, but they softened a second later. "Let's just take a minute for us. No fighting. Nobody else. Just you and me and... whatever this is."

For a second he was quiet, just looking up at her. He could see the uncertainty in her eyes, the worry that maybe this didn't mean what she was hoping it did. He knew he should say something, reassure her, but he couldn't. Us, she'd said. The first spoken acknowledgement that they weren't just Scott and Malia anymore, but Scott and Malia. And he really liked it.

Giving into the warm feeling building in his chest, he made his move, flipping them over, reversing their positions. She let out a little squeak of surprise, his phone flying out of her hand and clattering to the floor somewhere over near the wall as she found herself on her back, his weight suddenly pressing down on her. He didn't even look, too busy claiming her mouth in a heated kiss, trying to convey without words that whatever fears she had were unfounded. Her hands went to the back of his head, tangling in his hair and pulling him even tighter against her as they moved together, beating back the harsh reality once again.

"Wow," she breathed when he pulled away, leaning his forehead against her shoulder as he fought to catch his breath. "That was..."

"Yeah." He grinned as he lifted his head and met her gaze. "I want to do that again."

"Go ahead."

"No." It was very important to him, essential, that she understand what he meant, that this wasn't just something fun, or a distraction, or anything other than what it was. "I want to do that a lot. This isn't... I don't—I want... us." He put as much emphasis on that as he could, willing her to get exactly what he was saying as he fumbled helplessly with his words.

She was silent for a moment, face giving nothing away, before her lips started twitching a little, like she was trying not to smile. "I like the sound of that," she said softly, reaching up to cup the side of his face. They stared into each other's eyes, letting the enormity of the moment sink in, the recognition of what they were about to start.

When his phone suddenly went off again, completely destroying the moment, Malia's expression soured. But Scott could only laugh, too happy, too elated by the morning's developments to be anything other than cheerful. He let his head sink back down against her shoulder, biting his lip as his whole body shook with barely-suppressed mirth.

"I'm gonna throw that thing out the window," she muttered, irritation dripping from every syllable.

Grinning, he lifted his head and shrugged apologetically. "Welcome to my life. As soon as anything happens, somebody calls. If we're gonna do this, you'd better get used to it."

"Oh, we're doing this." There was no hesitation in her voice, only conviction, determination, and he could only smile. Then she frowned. "You should probably answer that."

"Yeah." He could hear the reluctance in his own voice, could feel it in his soul. Once he looked at that phone, their morning was over. The real world was back. The problems and the pressure and everything that came with it. It was so tempting to just ignore it, just stay there in bed with her and pretend things were okay for just a little longer, safe and happy in his room.

Time stretched on as he struggled with himself, and after a minute, she poked his shoulder. "Scott? You gonna check it?"

He heaved a weary sigh, then nodded and slowly rolled off her. As he swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for the phone, he felt the bed move under him. Looking back, he watched as she rose and stretched, biting back a groan at the way the shirt she'd borrowed slid up with the movement, giving him an enticing peek at what lied beneath it. From the impish grin on her face, he figured she was fully aware of how it looked, what she was doing to him.

"I'm gonna take a shower."

Scott grunted an acknowledgement as he grabbed his phone and looked at it, thumb hovering over the screen, hesitating. He heard her soft footsteps as she padded over to his bathroom, his eyes locked on device in his hand. Just as he took a deep breath, steeling himself to check his messages, something soft collided with the back of his head. Eyes wide, he turned, immediately spotting the shirt she'd been wearing lying on the bed behind him.

Looking up, he found her grinning at him from the bathroom door, unashamedly exposed, an eyebrow arched in challenge. "Want to help wash my back?"

There was no hesitation this time. His phone was tossed on the bed next to the discarded shirt, an afterthought as he quickly made his way to her, to the heaven that awaited him in the next room. He paused in the doorway, and studied her face. There was a lot there, a million emotions, all mirrored in his own expression. For a second, they just looked at each other. Then, she held out a hand, and he grasped it in his own, threading their fingers together and letting her pull him inside.

For just a little longer, the world could wait.

AN: This one was supposed to be a part of a larger story, but it didn't really fit what I was trying to do, so I figured I'd just post it by itself. It ended up turning into a little three-shot. With that in mind, it's a little light on details, but I think it still works for what it is. May have gone a little overboard on the sentimentality, but I don't know, maybe not. We all know what we're here for, right?