His eyes don’t leave hers when he wraps his arms around Deaton and pulls him to his chest.
They don’t leave hers when he lets go off the older man and walks towards her, hands extended as if she’s gonna fall.
But she’s stable, and she’s alive, and she’s just really happy to see the smile on his face right before he embraces her too.
Their hug feels different than usual. Their chests press together just a bit closer, his arms wrap around her just a bit tighter. They both linger in the embrace for a few heart beats before reluctantly letting go off each other.
He keeps smiling at her, even when he embraces Braeden next and offers to give Malia a ride home.
They drop Liam off first, both hearing the furious lecture his dad gives him about curfew and smiling to themselves. Then he makes a turn for Malia’s house, and a comfortable silence settles between them. There’s a lot to discuss, a lot to talk about, but it can all wait. Right now, Malia just enjoys sitting with him.
When they arrive at the Tate residence, Malia hesitates to get out. The house looks big and cold and lonely. And, dare she admit it with her near death experience mere hours before, a bit scary.
Scott must pick up on her heart beat or scent, because he gently puts his hand over hers.
“Is your dad not home?”
Malia shakes her head, glances from the dark house to Scott.
“He’s out of town for a few days,” she explains.
“Do you want me to - come in?” Scott offers a bit shyly, the tips of his ears turning pink.
Malia could honestly cry from relief and she tries not to sound too desperate when she says yes. She’s quick to get out of the car then, followed by Scott almost immediately.
She unlocks the door and can’t stop her heart from racing in those few seconds they’re in complete darkness before she finds her way to the light switch. If Scott notices her anxiety, he doesn’t say anything about it.
“Do you want anything to eat?” Malia offers. Scott smiles and shakes his head.
“Drink?”
“I’m good, Malia. Thanks. Are you, though?”
Malia averts her eyes.
“What do you mean?” She asks, fidgeting with her fingers to keep busy.
She hears him sigh, move forward. Before realizing it, he has his hands wrapped around hers to keep them still.
“Mal, I can smell it on you. You’re terrified.”
Malia is still avoiding eye contact. Maybe he’ll drop it if he doesn’t see the fear in her eyes. Maybe he’ll convince himself he’s imagining it.
But then his finger hooks behind her chin and he tilts her head until she’s looking at him.
“Talk to me. Please.”
“Please, Scott. Please don’t make me talk,” she begs, heavily blinking to get rid of the tears suddenly blurring her vision.
She doesn’t want to say the words out loud. If she does, it’ll all be too real, too harsh. She imagines the words choking her, or worse. Finding their way to her. Luring her here.
Scott seems to understand. He lets go off her chin, brings up her hand the kiss the back of it.
“Fine, but you’re not staying here alone tonight. Where can I crash?”
Malia pulls up her lips in what she hopes is a grateful smile, but then she feels her cheeks go hot.
“Could you - uh, sleep in my bed with me tonight? Please?”
“Of course.”
It’s weird, because in all those months they’ve been friends, Scott has never actually been in Malia’s room. They usually hang out at Scott’s or Stiles’, and if they ever have pack meetings at Malia’s they usually keep to the living room and kitchen.
For some reason, she feels nervous when she leads him into her bedroom. As if she’s showing him a big secret or something.
Everyone always expects Malia to be messy and casual when it comes to cleaning, but her bedroom actually is pretty organized. The only messy thing about it is her bed because she doesn’t see the point of making it every morning. Other than that, there’s not a speck of dust in sight.
She doesn’t control a lot of her life, the least she can do is keep this aspect of her life in her own two hands.
Scott’s smile doesn’t falter for one second as he walks around her room, picking up polaroids and mythology books here and there.
“You have a really nice room,” he says when he finally reaches her bed.
Malia shrugs it off.
“It’s just a room.”
Then she nods over to the bed.
“I’m kinda tired. Do you mind if -”
“No, not at all. I’m pretty tired too.”
They look at each other over the bed for a few moments before they both start giggling and Scott moves to take off his shirt. Malia turns around and gets out of her clothes too, quickly replacing them with her pajamas.
When she turns back around, Scott is already in bed, his back turned to her. She crawls in with him and gives him a swift kiss on the shoulder before whispering goodnight.
She falls asleep almost immediately after that.
It’s been a long time since she screamed herself awake.
She trashes around, hitting anything and everything remotely in her reach. Her fists make contact with soft flesh, and for one horrible moment she thinks her mother is there with her.
But then his hands are around her wrists and his familiar scent calms her down. He presses her head against his bare chest, strokes her hair until her breathing is even.
She doesn’t realize she’s crying until he wipes away one of her tears.
“Did you have a nightmare?” He asks, his voice sleepy.
There’s no point in denying it, so she just nods.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Not really, but she does anyway. She tells him everything, about the crash and her flashbacks. About her plan to kill her mother, about the Desert Wolf’s plan to kill her, how the only thing that had saved her from dying tonight had been Lydia’s scream. And when she’s finished, she can finally admit it out loud.
“She almost killed me. And she’s gonna try again.”
“It won’t happen,” Scott promises.
“Okay? I’ll make sure of that. I’ll do anything to keep you safe, Malia. I promise.”
Malia nods against his chest, wrapping an arm around his torso.
“Hold me?” She whispers.
He doesn’t hesitate when he wraps her up in his arms and pulls her closer.
Malia doesn’t have bad dreams anymore that night, not when he’s there with her.
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