Fic idea: musical Stalia AU
with like, drummer/guitarist Stiles and singer malia who wants to learn how to play an instrument like - I dunno, drums do seem her style, and like - yes yes.
Or musical, as in musical show? with Stiles and Malia playing the lead roles or Stiles playing a lead role/mal paying a lead role and they start something behind the scenes and the other has to fret about the main having to pretend feels for someone else (Lydia, Scott) ??? y e s
Malia has a gig coming up in a few weeks, and she -
Well, okay. Maybe she lied, a tad, about knowing how to play the drums. But this band she's in - it had been her one chance at something bigger than singing at Kylie's birthday party, and though Malia loves her sister - truly - Cora, well, she's a good bio-cousin, and she put in a word with some guy called Stiles, who put in a good word with some girl called Erica, who got her a spot in a band she sort-of manages. Her boyfriend Boyd plays bass, aparently.
Unfortunately, Malia had just found out that her spot was mainly drumming and a little singing - which, fine, except Malia hardly knows how to play the drums and she's a singer, first and foremost. So that's a thing.
"Stiles knows a thing or two," Cora had told her. Erica had repeated much the same sentiment. "He's not part of a band, really, just substitues in for drummers and guitarists on occasion as a favour to me." Erica says. "As an apology."
Apology for what, Malia can't say. Anyway, Kylie's friend Hayden's boyfriend Liam's mentor/personal lacross coach Scott is best friends with Stiles, so he's driving her round to Stiles' on his motorbike.
Man, if her dad knew. He'd go balistic.
Anyway. Malia hears the knock at the door and breezes on past her mother, who winks and smiles in a way that says 'I won't let your dad know, go have fun' because apparently her mother is great. Nice.
Her dad's been a little overprotective ever since that scare a few years back when the roads were icy and the car crashed into a tree on the side of the road. Luck had it that they weren't injured - nobody was in the front passenger seat - and they laughed it off, however uneasy they felt, because - well, they were fine, really.
Malia still hadn't gotten her driver's liscence, but - well. That's a whole other thing entirely.
"Hi, you must be Malia." the guy she assumes to be Scott says. "Yeah," Malia replies. "That's me."
Scott grins at her, nods in the direction of the road out from her house. Living in the middle of the woods isn't bad, really, except for shitty wifi, shitty road access, and it being really cold, like, all the time except for when it's unbearably hot.
Malia rather thinks of herself as a little cold blooded. It's only the tail end of summer, but she's already in autumn clothing - a tank-top, longsleeve shirt, hoodie, jacket. Leggings and shorts and boots and argyle socks.
Malia has her own kinda style. So what if Lydia's a little snide about it sometimes? Malia can deal with the Queen Bee so long as she keeps tutoring her. Not that Lydia would ever let her tell anyone she tutors Malia, but that's neither here nor there.
Anyway, Lydia spends most of her time with the new guy in town who was forcibly resigned from the army after suffering some severe injuries from an explosion. It was all over local news a little while back, but as it stands - Malia hasn't heard gossip about the guy for a while. He works at the Station, even if he isn't an official deputy - Malia thinks it might be pity, but she's not sure. Either way, the Sheriff makes sure he gets a paycheck.
Malia thinks this Stiles guy - who's home from college for the summer, as is Scott and Lydia (Malia goes to the local community college, mostly because her dad would freak if she didn't. Either of her dads.) - is the Sheriff's kid. Cora thinks he's alright (they were a thing a while back, back in high school) but Malia reserves judgment.
"Come on then." Scott says, cheerful and bright - Malia knows why some of her friends gush about him; he's like the fucking sun given human form or some other such poetic bullshit. Kind of her type, but not quite, and besides - he's dating Allison, even if she studies in France. She's learning to take over the family buisness, as far as Malia knows; they're weapons dealers for the government, the Argents, and Malia thinks you need to know quite a lot about guns and the rest to be any good at that. Because - well - the govenment. Fucking hell.
Malia hasn't seen Allison around this summer. Malia sometimes wonders - in that gossipy way teenagers always wonder - if there's a strain on Scott's relationship with her, because Scott's always around this Kira girl and Allison spends a lot of time with this Isaac character, but Malia knows very little, so she can't really say either way.
Malia nods and follows the other young adult (eighteen - he's almost a year younger than her; Malia's one of the oldest in her yeargroup) out onto the dirt path. She takes the offered helmet and mounts the bike behind Scott.
"Hold on," He advises, and they're off.
Malia isn't sure how much she likes motorbikes, really. They're cool to look at, and all, but it feels like you're always a hair's breadth away from crashing and being crushed to death, so Malia rather thinks she doesn't like them - but then, there's the rush of wind on her face and the sheer speed you can get to (although they are staying safely below the legal limit) and there's the fact that they can get places easier than cars can, and Malia returns to being wholly uncertain.
Once they're there, Malia dismounts and returns the helmet. She pats down her hair and says "Thanks," to which Scott nods, grins like he's fucking sunshine personified and says "No problem." Malia's almost glad when he's gone, because goddamn. You could get blinded by that shit.
Malia turns and walks up to the door - and then, she's suddenly nervous. She doesn't really want to seem like a utter idiot, but then Malia did lie about being able to play the drums so quite honestly she kind of is, but it was one of those lies you blurt out and immediately regret but will defend 'til your dieing breath.
Malia steadies herself and knocks. Whoever this Stiles guy is, she hopes he's not like some of the other drummers and gutarists she's met - the freelance ones who generally stick to only indie bands and have that god awful over-one-eye emo fringe haircut and about ten death metal t-shirts they switch between regularly, but likely have never actually listend to the bands or songs printed across the front.
Thank fucking god, she thinks when she first register's the appearence of the about-her-age guy who answers the door a few moments later. The next thing she thinks is fuck, he's good looking, because Malia isn't adverse to these sorts of thoughts. Malia doesn't and has never seen why registering a person's level of attractiveness in your own head before anything else could be considered rude - she rather thinks its a compliment (if you think they're pretty, that is) - but whatever. It's not like you're gonna share it immediately anyway, so what's the harm in a little appreciation?
He's a pale guy, but not in the I-never-leave-the-house-wow-so-emo way, more the naturally pale, mole-speckled skin kind of pale. His hair is gelled, because of course it is - Malia doesn't know one guy in Beacon Hills that doesn't do that when their hair is long enough (aside from Liam - but again, the kid is still that; a kid. He'll do it eventually) it's kind of weird - and it's not a bad look, quite frankly. He's got a fairly strong jaw and a lean but - well - strong build, and Malia definitely gets why Cora smirks a lot when she talks about him.
Damn. She's a lucky lady, her cousin.
(They broke up more because they didn't want to have to deal with distance and besides, they weren't the kind of relationship that wanted to last beyond high school. Cora was Stiles only girlfriend, as far as Cora's aware, but she wasn't the only person he'd been with in one way or another.)
"Hi," He says - belatedly, Malia realises he's on the phone. "Hold on - Theo, yeah, man, I get it, your sister's a bitch sometimes, yada yada, this is literally always your fault she's an actual sweetheart - go apologise you ass - Look, there's someone at the door, I gotta go. Bye, dude."
He hangs up and smiles awkwardly at her, rolling his eyes. "My friend's a bit of a jerk sometimes," He says amicably. "Sorry about that. You're Malia, right?" "Yeah." Malia nods. Cora's not the only one Malia knows stories of Stiles from - Heather's an infamous oversharer and Erica was never much better (neither was Catilin, for that matter... but, then, that's what Malia gets for having no tact herself) - but Malia wants to make her own judgment of this guy.
Then again, he is friends with actual saint Scott McCall, (Malia's heard of him saving kittens from trees and volunteering at the hospital and working at the veterinary clinic), so he can't be that bad of a guy.
But then, Malia's pretty certain Theo is Theo Raeken, and Stiles is right; he can be a total jackass. So Malia will hold judgment until she gets to know the guy a little better.
"Come on in," He jerks his head to the side slightly as a gesture for her to follow, then turns and walks inside. Malia enters and closes the door behind herself, before following him upstairs and into his room. It's a little messy, but not that bad, and a lot of the space is taken by his drum kit, while some of the space on his wall is taken by his guitar.
"Make yourself comfortable. It's drumming you need to learn asap, right?" Stiles asks, and Malia nods. "Yeah." "Alright then." He claps his hands and grins at her, infectious. "Let's get started."
