she is sleep when I need rest

[stiles]

Stiles hasn’t been this tired since those first few nights after they brought home Ava. He hasn’t felt this emotionally drained since the morning after Malia’s accident when she was just barely pregnant with their daughter. And yet, it doesn’t even register as he stares at her, unable to look away from her. Because his brain is absolutely consumed by how much he loves her.

She looks as tired as he feels, her head resting against the back of the elevator as they stand in silence, Ava asleep in her carseat between them. In fact, she stares so intently without seeing at the doors before them, part of him wonders if she’s asleep on her feet. And he wouldn’t blame her. Not after everything she’s done for him in the past 72 hours. Stiles had lost sleep multiple nights over the idea of bringing her and the baby here, of introducing them to his family, and it had all been for naught. It never dawned on him that the baby would be a welcome distraction. A source of joy in a bleak weekend as she was passed around whenever Malia was willing to part with her. It was his own tiny bit of shame over her conception that made him certain there would be questions and stares and silent judgements, not real evidence.

And Malia… Malia had been a constant. She was quiet, but not unfriendly that first night at his grandmother’s. And it had felt like she anticipated his every need. Her fingers twined with his under the table when talk of the funeral made his chest feel tight. She pressed Ava lovingly into his arms so he could focus on her sweet, soft weight on his chest when his heart started to race at the mention of his mother’s name. She curled against him when his grandmother took the baby, letting her arms encircle his waist, reminding him that this time, at least, his grief wasn’t his to work through alone.

She had been that same steady presence at the wake, too. He knew she hated every second of it, her skin probably crawling with the need to get away from that room full of strangers, but she stayed there with him until Ava had to nurse. And then she was always there in the family room off to the side, always waiting for him when felt like he could slip away from a few minutes, soaking up his time with her and the baby like it was the only thing getting him through. She was there by his side when Scott and Lydia stopped by, even letting Lydia hug her. And when they returned to the hotel that night and his fingers itched to grab the room key had head back down to the bar, she had dropped to her knees before him instead, taking away that sharp edge of grief before Ava was even out of her carseat.

Today had been the hardest. He had known it would be, but the force of his grief still took his breath away when he found himself seated in that front pew. But Malia laid her head on his shoulder, that constant beside him again. And when Ava had started to fuss halfway through the mass and Malia had started to stand, to slip out to nurse her, his hand had clamped down on her wrist a little too hard because he needed her a little too much. He hadn’t let go until she had settled back on the hard pew beside him and pulled her dress aside to nurse the baby there instead. And later, he had wondered if that’s what it felt like for her when she told him he was her anchor.

Now, Malia startles as the ring of the elevator announces their floor. She blinks like maybe she had been half asleep on her feet and gathers the carseat from the floor, and Stiles follows after her wordlessly because there’s no word that feels fitting right now. Every word he knows is too weak to encompass this feeling in his chest, this fullness that has been growing since Ava’s birth but now threatens to overwhelm him. Instead, he follows silently after her to the door where he slides in the room key, then props the door open so she can slip inside.

It’s after she’s set the baby down on the desk and is reaching to undo her buckle that he finally says anything. “Hey,” he says gently, not wanting to startle her, but her eyes are still wide when she turns to him. And seeing her face, taking in that sadness and exhaustion in her expression, he forgets whatever he wanted to say. So he steps forward instead, pulling her into his arms and holding her as tightly as he can. “Thank you,” he says instead as he breathes her in, pulling her closer still, like he can somehow eliminate all physical space between them. Like that might be enough to let her know how he feels.

[malia]

She feels his eyes on her before she even realizes he’s looking at her. There’s something soothing about the slow movement of the elevator as she lets her eyes wander to meet his. He’s exhausted, the hazel of his irises dimmed by the grief and emotion of the day. They are settled into a comfortable silence and because of that silence, the ding of the elevator stopping at their floor startles her slightly. She hates the smell of the hotel. So many people, so many different scents. So much sex and drugs and some other things she doesn’t even recognize. So, she tries to focus on his scent instead, and Ava’s. That sweet, tender smell that awakens something feral in her. An instinct to protect her at all costs. It’s the same with Stiles, but sometimes it’s overwhelming with the baby. She reaches down and easily lifts the carrier into her arms, leading the way out of the elevator.

She wants to hold her baby, to comfort her mate, but none of that can happen while they’re in the middle of the hallway in this smelly hotel.

She lets him open the door to their room. It still smells like other people, but it’s also taken on a lot of their smell and she can work with that. She sets the baby’s carrier down on the small ledge by the dresser and immediately begins to unbuckle her. She’s sleeping soundly, but she’ll wake up and be ready to eat one more time before bed soon. She also needed a bath. She’d been passed around and all of those other scents were overwhelming hers, and Malia didn’t like that one bit.

She’d let herself loose track of where he’d stopped as she focused on the baby so his soft words catch her off guard. She lets go of the baby’s buckle and turns to face him. He looks tired and sad and desperate and her heart aches for him. She doesn’t hesitate to fall into his embrace as he wraps his arms around her. She’d be happy if they could just stay that way always. She moves a hand into his hair, letting her face settle against the side of his neck as she breathes him in deeply. “For what?” She mumbles, genuinely curious about his statement. She softly presses her lips against his skin, her hand smoothing down the hair at the nape of his neck as her body yearns to just be ever so much closer to him. Always.

[stiles]

He doesn’t want to let go of her. He wants to spend the rest of the night rooted to this spot, letting her anchor him to this room. Because that’s what she was for him, wasn’t it? He had been so worried about how she would fit into this part of his life, and he’d been overwhelmed by his grief. It was so easy to remember how easily it had drowned him after Claudia died, even if he was older now and his relationship with his grandfather had always been different. But every time that wave of grief rolled in, he had reached for her instead. And she had been there waiting.

Her voice is soft and curious. Her breath is warm against his neck before her lips brush that same spot. “For everything,” he tells her before he can even stop to try to find the right words. His arms wrap around her a little more tightly as he pulls her closer in a way that might bruise if she weren’t part were. But Malia doesn’t flinch or pull away or fight back. That raw emotion forms a lump in his throat, and even though she’s watched him shed more tears today than any other day of their life together, he keeps her rooted against him until it passes. Another wave that washes over but doesn’t claim him. Because he has her.

Still, his eyes are wet when he does pull away, putting just enough space between them so she lifts her face from the crook of his shoulder. He slides his hand against her warm cheek, his thumb rubbing gently over the corner of her mouth. “For being my anchor,” he admits, stealing the words she would use. “I know these past two days weren’t easy, and I’m so proud of you.” He’s too caught up in his own emotion to worry that it sounds condescending, but there’s also not another word to describe the way he feels. It was pride that filled him that first time she had gently laid Ava in his grandmother’s arms. And pride again when she had let him introduce him to each of his cousins, not baring her teeth once. And pride again when he had had her beside him earlier in that front pew, his arm looped around her waist and the baby asleep against her shoulder. It’s pride he feels again as he leans in, resting his forehead against hers. “I really needed you. So thank you.”

Without missing a beat, Malia leans in to kiss him. And as soon as his lips meet hers, that emotion swells inside him again. He wants to tell her again just how much she means to him. He wants to lay her down on the king sized bed a few feet away and make love to her as slowly and softly as he should’ve on that night back in December. He wants to…

No. He’s emotional, and he probably needs to sleep it off.

She pulls away first with a smack, but he follows suit, finally letting his arms fall away from her waist. His eyes fall on Ava, still asleep in his carseat, and he feels the weight of his own exhaustion. She’ll need to eat soon. And they all need sleep. “Want me to take her?” he asks with a nod towards the baby. “So you can get ready for bed before she eats?”

[malia]

There’s some wave of emotion that washes over her when he uses those words. “For being my anchor.” It’s something he’s never said to her before. Something she understands because it’s what he’s been for her since the moment they found her in the woods that day and Scott had forced her into a human form that she hadn’t lived in for far too long. He had always been the only one that could ground her, that could calm her, that could make her feel like she wasn’t simply going to lose herself in the overwhelming reality of being a human girl when all she new was being a coyote.

He was her anchor. He always had been.

And maybe she was his.

And she’s never loved him more than she does in that moment as she kisses him slowly. His lips are soft and warm, slightly salty from the remnants of a shed tear that must have fallen at some point during the day. She didn’t need to see his sadness because she felt it. She hears Ava move, those soft, sweet baby sounds of waking coming from the carrier and she can’t help the instinct that pulls her lips away from his. She doesn’t want to stop, doesn’t want to stop touching him, but the baby is a distraction she is almost incapable of ignoring. She glances at the sleeping baby, her dark hair wild after a day of being touched and smoothed, the trace of unfamiliar lipstick on her forehead. She has to force herself not to growl when she notices it.

But his words pull her out of her thoughts, as they often did. Anchoring her. He was right, she would be hungry when she woke up and Malia could feel her breasts aching at the thought of it. As much as she hated for the moment to end, she nods at Stiles. She turns around to work on unbuckling Ava from her seat, but not before softly pressing one more hungry kiss against his lips.

“I won’t be long,” she tells him, already pulling the uncomfortable dress that Lydia had picked out for her over her shoulders and letting it slide to the floor. She’s naked by the time she makes it to the bathroom, turning the shower on and letting the steam fill the room before she climbs in to wash the remnants of the long day from her skin.

[stiles]

It’s his idea to get ready for bed, but Stiles is still disappointed the second she takes him up on it and pulls away. He misses the warmth of her body pressed against his. And he definitely misses the curve of her backside beneath his hand. A fact he’s even more aware of when she’s suddenly pulling her dress over her head and letting it pool at the foot of the bed. He loves that dress. He had loved it when Lydia had shown up with it after he texted her, pretending it had been hanging in her closet untouched when Stiles knew from the time they spent living together that new clothes didn’t even make it inside her closet with the tags still on. And he had loved it when she had put it on that morning. Maybe loved it a little more when it was hitched around her waist, her back pressed against the wall ten minutes before they had to be out the door. But he loves it most when it’s on the floor there.

Especially when her bra and panties finish the breadcrumb trail she leaves in her wake.

“Yeah, you better not be long,” he calls after her retreating form, aware of the way his cock twitches in response. He doesn’t know what it is about today - or maybe just the way he deals with grief - but he can’t get enough of her. Then again, she’s doing little to help the situation. “I swear, Aves,” he says as he turns his attention back to the sleeping baby, no longer stirring in her carseat. “You have the prettiest mama.”

The door closes behind Malia, and then the shower turns on. He’s just reaching for the buckle on the carseat when the door suddenly swings open again, Malia’s voice clear as she says, “She needs a bath.”

“A bath?” Stiles asks as his head whips around. He just catches a flash of her hair as the door closes again behind her. He frowns as he turns back to the baby. “Didn’t she give you a bath this morning?” He knows she did. He had sat on the edge of the tub, watching the two of them as Malia cooed to the baby about how pretty she would look that day, followed each time about how strong she was. And how smart. But Stiles knows better than to argue with her.

Instead, he moves the carseat to the floor where Ava can’t somehow wiggle off the surface, and then he starts on setting up her bath. He’s done this just enough times on his own to know that it’s better to have everything ready ahead of time. So he grabs her pajamas and a diaper from the diaper bag on his way to the bathroom. “Didn’t you give her a bath this morning?” he asks as soon as he opens the door, laying out the baby’s clothes and her towel before dipping a hand behind the shower curtain to grab a washcloth from the rack above the faucet. He catches an eyeful of tanned skin as she says, “She smells weird.”

Stiles scoffs as he wets the washcloth. “That’s my family you’re talking about, Malia,” he chides, and he hears her exasperated sigh from behind the curtain. She starts to say something, but he misses it as his mind wanders instead to another night not so different from this. Another conversation with a shower curtain separating them. Another time when he had desperately needed someone, and she had just been there - an anchor.

He’s quiet as he slips out of the bathroom again and back to the baby in her carseat. She starts to stir as he lifts her, and he coos softly to her as he nestles her against his shoulder and brings her back to the bathroom. The steam from Malia’s shower keeps the baby from fussing as soon as he starts undressing her, so she stares up at him with wide eyes instead. Malia’s eyes. “You know,” he says, raising his voice over the noise of the shower as he finally moves Ava’s tiny body to the water in the sink. “Scott says your scent is different now. Ava changed it.” Scott had explained that it was because Malia now carried a part of Ava - and a part of Stiles - in her DNA. Permanently changed from having carried their baby. But Stiles skips over the science for Malia’s benefit as he clear his throat and says instead, “He says you always smell a little bit like me now.”

[malia]

It still never gets old to her the way that she feels the butterflies flutter in her belly when he enters a room, even more so when he’s with the baby. She smiles softly to herself as she hears his words. He didn’t smell things the way she did, she was used to that. But she doesn’t hesitate when she tells him the reasoning behind her request.
She doesn’t think of her words as an insult, but she can tell by the tone of his voice that he takes it that way. His words aren’t chiding, but they aren’t amused either.

“Your family smells weird,” she responds matter of factly, but she doesn’t mean that as an insult either. And based on the way he goes on with Ava’s bath, she’s not really even sure he heard her. She’s running the bar of soap along her arms as he reaches in to grab Ava’s small washcloth.

And when he speaks again, she’s lathering that same soap across her swollen and achy breasts. It’s definitely time for the baby to eat and she winces as she finishes cleaning herself. His words peak her interest and she pulls the curtain back so she can watch his back as he tenderly bathes the baby. Her heart is full. They are hers and she is theirs and there’s something about knowing that she carries some of his scent in her now that makes her feel sentimental, even a little choked up. “Really?” She asks, tucking her head back in the shower so she can wash her hair quickly.

She finishes and turns the water off, climbing out of the shower and reaching for a towel so she can wrap it around herself. She moves behind him, her chin resting on his shoulder as she looks down at their daughter. She’s calm, gazing up at Stiles as she kicks her little legs in the water. Sometimes baths were hard, she didn’t like being cold, but tonight was a good bath night and Malia smiles as Stiles ever so gently runs the washcloth along her tiny belly.

“I’m glad I smell like you now,” she tells him honestly. “And that Ava does.” Nobody would ever get confused that he was her mate. Not now.

[stiles]

Her body is damp when she presses herself against his back. Her hair drips against his shirt. But he doesn’t care as he feels the vibrations of her voice in his own chest and the weight of her chin on his shoulder. “Me too,” he softly responds. And he blames the high emotions of the day for the lump that settles in his throat. Because why else would he get so emotional now? He hadn’t gotten this emotional when Scott told him. And it wasn’t like this was the first time they had smelled like each other. When they first started sharing a bed, Scott had said he couldn’t tell them apart anymore. And when she started sleeping in his bed again almost a year ago, they had both showered religiously before joining the pack anywhere. But now it’s permanent, her body forever changed by the baby they had made together. A permanent sign that they were a family now. Impossible to separate.

And now, he can’t stop thinking about just how permanent he wants that to be.

It’s like the way he couldn’t stop staring at her on the way back up here. The way that that night through Eichen House flashed through his mind as vividly as if it had happened last night. He finishes up Ava’s bath, dries her off, and puts her in her clean pajamas. But his mind never stops fixating on that word: permanent. The first time he thought it was the night of her accident, he realizes as he hands the baby off to Malia, her hair up in a bun for the night while she remains completely bare. In that small window of time before they had heard Ava’s heartbeat in the ER, he had realized that if they lost their baby, there was no possible way he could let her leave Beacon Hills. Ever again.

The second time was when Ava was born, he notes as he moves mindlessly through his own nighttime routine. He had watched Malia bring their baby into the world, and he had known then that there was no one else for him. It was the reason he had asked for Claudia’s ring. The same ring that was shoved into the back of their linen closet back home because Malia stole his boxers and his t-shirts and would go through his nightstand for a condom, but she had never once changed the sheets on the bed they shared.

The third time was two days ago after their nightmare of a road trip here, he thinks as he finally leaves the bathroom in only his boxers, finding Malia laying on her side in bed already while the baby nurses. Her patience had made him realize that even though he had spent a month’s salary to book the perfect spot for her birthday, he didn’t think he could wait two more weeks.

He knows with certainty that he can’t wait now as he slides into bed beside them. Malia gives him a soft, sleepy smile before her eyes drift back to the baby, but Stiles’s eyes stay on her. Just like the elevator, he can’t look away. “What?” she asks him when she notices the weight of his stare, and he echoes her. “What? I can’t look at you?” He catches her eye roll, but it doesn’t even register as her eyes fall back to the baby. Her head dips to kiss all of that dark hair - his dark hair - and that same sleepy smile is there on her lips again. Her lover for the baby overwhelming.

So when she asks that same question again, the words are out of his mouth before he realizes what he’s doing.

“I want to marry you,” he says. There’s no hesitation, no waver in his voice. Her smile shifts, but his heart doesn’t race the way he had been sure it would in this moment. “I”m serious,” he tells her instead. “I had this whole plan. I have a ring.” He runs a hand through his hair, slightly frustrated with himself that he hadn’t prepared for the possibility of not making it another two weeks. Of not being prepare now, when he can’t possibly wait another minute. “But I just…” His voice trails off as he tries to find the right words, but nothing seems big enough, important enough, to encompass the way he feels. “I really want to marry you.”

[malia]

She lingers there briefly, just enjoying the moment. Feeling his heart beat against her and watching as he so gently gives Ava her bath. She already smelled less like strangers, so Malia is satisfied with the decision. She finally pulls away quietly when he’s ready to get the baby out of the sink and she realizes that her skin is quickly covering with goose bumps as the dampness settles into her bones like a winter chill. She dries herself up, quickly running her fingers through her hair before pulling it up into a messy bun. It was the easiest way to keep it out of the way when Ava nursed, and she really needed Ava to nurse. And she can tell by the way the baby strains angrily in her arms when Stiles hands her over that she’s hungry. On the verge of a meltdown hungry. She fists her little hands, her legs kicking as Malia settles herself on the bed. She lays Ava beside her, pulling her close and helping her latch on, her hand resting on the back of the baby’s damp hair.

Ava doesn’t waste any time, suckling greedily and Malia can’t help but sigh with relief as some of that pressure immediately begins to dissipate. She leans down, pressing a kiss to Ava’s cheek before she lets her attention get drawn back to Stiles. She watches him silently as he changes, comes in and out of the bathroom, brushes his teeth, and checks his phone. He seems distracted, but she doesn’t think much of it, chalking it off to the stress and emotion of the day that he’d just had. She rests her thumb on the baby’s cheek, stroking her impossibly soft skin as she continues to eat, her eyelids growing heavy as her belly begins to fill up.

Eventually, Stiles settles in beside them and things feel complete. He’s staring at her, and she looks at him curiously, rolling her eyes when he responds to her question about why. They settle into a comfortable silence, listening to the baby as she eats, so she’s not prepared when he speaks again.

She looks up at him when she hears his question. She smiles again, about to shrug her shoulders and tell him okay when he starts to speak again. She knows, or she hopes, that someday they can be married. Not because she’s so big into tradition or human ceremony, but because that would be a physical indicator to everyone else that he was hers. Sure, maybe she was a little jealous, but he was her mate and she needed everyone to get that. Even humans who couldn’t smell and didn’t understand what it meant.

She smells his nerves as he goes on, her rhythmic stroking of the baby’s cheek slowly coming to a stop as she listens. A ring? He had the whole thing planned? Was he really asking her to marry him instead of just talking about them being married someday? Her heart races slightly as she thinks of the permanence of it. She loved him, she needed him, he was the father of her baby. She didn’t ever want to think of her life without him again. “I want to marry you too,” she tells him honestly, knowing that she means it very much. “I love you. You’re my mate.”

Ava pulls away with a smack and she sits up, pulling the baby up to her shoulder so she can burp her before switching to the other breast.

[stiles]

It’s when he stops talking that what he’s just said sinks in. His heart thunders in his chest as he watches her. Her hand stills and she lifts her gaze, but he can’t read her expression. It’s the first - and almost only - time he’ll wish he had stuck to the original plan. The tent that she’ll probably complain isn’t even really a tent, not with its raised platform and the full king sized bed. The day he had secretly taken off for his birthday. The ring he had gotten resized after stealing one of Olive’s play plastic rings that had fit her finger perfectly. He had thought of everything, including where Ava would go for her first overnight, and a plan B in case Malia balked at the idea of leaving the baby with anyone overnight. And then he had abandoned it in an instant.

And now, it feels like the wrong choice.

Her lips form a soft smile when she meets his gaze that should be enough to calm him, but when she talks it’s all wrong. It’s a hypothetical situation to her, one somewhere down the road that they’ll get to eventually. Not here in the immediate. They’re just two kids playing house as she pulls the baby away from her breast and sits up to bring Ava to her shoulder. Someday, they’ll get married. Someday, they’ll buy a house together. Someday, they’ll have two point five kids and a white picket fence.

Stiles suddenly finds himself at a crossroads: he can let it go and stick to that foolproof plan two weeks from now, or he can ask the question again. It takes him only half a second to realize he doesn’t want to wait longer than he already has.

“No,” he tells her as he runs a hand through his hair again. “I mean yes.,” he corrects. “I am your mate.” (It doesn’t even register in his hyper focused brain that this is the first time he’s used the word, the first time his chest hasn’t tightened as soon as she uses it.) “But I… I asked my dad for my mom’s ring the day Ava was born because I watched you give birth, and I wanted to ask you right then.” His eyes shift to the baby who’s barely awake in Malia’s arms at the memory. He hadn’t thought it was possible to love her more than he did in that moment, and now he can’t believe he thought he had loved her that much then, not after watching her become a mother over the last two months. “But I knew before that, too,” he says as his eyes return to her face. “I thought about asking you in Sedona. And when you agreed to go to that ball. And when you had your accident and I thought we might lose Ava. I think part of me wanted to ask you last Christmas, just so you wouldn’t leave after the holidays.”

Her expression has changed, her smile absent now as she watches him in a way that he can’t read. His heart is still beating furiously in his chest now as he reaches for her hand. He pulls it away from the baby, rubbing circles against her palm. “So, I’m asking you, “ he clarifies, his hazel eyes locked on hers. “I’m trying to propose here. So… will you marry me?”

[malia]

She can tell as soon as he speaks again that she’s either said the wrong thing, or took his statement the wrong way. His no is firm, but not in an angry way, just in a very insistent way. And the rest of what he says just kind of flows together in a whir of his melodic voice as her heart begins to race.

He wants to marry her.

Not someday, not in the distant future, but now.

She’d imagined them being married. It was the right thing to do, the human thing to do. He was her mate. She never wanted anyone the way she wanted him, and now that they spent all of their time together she didn’t want anyone ELSE. She knew she wanted to be with him for the rest of her life. For every bit of her life.

But marriage seems so…normal. And she is so….abnormal.

What if she let him down? What if she couldn’t be a wife? What if he changed his mind and he left her?

His flurry of thoughts come to a close as he explains to her just how long he’s actually wanted to do this and it dawns on her that maybe he’s felt just as strongly about her as she did about him this entire time. And that makes it different. She wants him. She wants him more than she’s ever wanted anything. She wants the world to know that he is hers and she is his and she wants to protect him and love him for the rest of her life. She realizes that, no matter if she’ll be a good wife or not, no matter how weird she is, she wants to marry him so very much.

HIs hand is warm as he reaches for hers and her belly fills with those familiar butterflies as she looks down at him and he gazes at her nervously with those hazel eyes that she’s memorized a thousand times over. Her heart beats so quickly that Ava must be able to feel it as she squirms against her chest.

“Yes,” she says softly, smiling as she rests the baby in between them, lying down on her side so she can move her hand from his and bring it to his cheek. “I don’t know how to do this,” She tells him honestly. “How to be…domestic…how to be in a family….but there will never be anybody else I want to try with. Nobody but you.” Her thumb gently traces the stubble of his cheek and she leans closer to she can press a soft kiss to his lips. “I’ll marry you.”

[stiles]

It’s only after the question has left his mouth that Stiles feels terrified. He’s never reached this level of intimacy with anyone else in his life. He’s not sure where his life ends and hers begins anymore. They share a home, a bed, a hamper. Her toothbrush is in the drawer next to his, and he washes her laundry with his own (She doesn’t do laundry). Honestly, he thinks she might wear his underwear more often than she wears her own. And most of that was true long before Ava, so once they added Ava into the mix… Sometimes, he tries to remember what life was like before she moved into his small house just a few blocks over from where he grew up, and there’s just a void there. Like his life didn’t even exist before she stumbled back into it.

But even knowing all of that - or maybe because he knows all of that - he also knows the girl sitting beside him. And he’s watched her run before with far less on the line. And it’s only once the question has left his mouth that he worries that maybe this will be the thing to push her away instead. Because mates she understood, but marriage was one step too far into humanity for his coyote girl.

It’s just when he thinks that he’s headed for panic attack territory that she finally responds. Yes. Her voice is soft and calm and not at all like he had pictured it in this moment. But then again, he had never pictured this moment anything like this.

He catches her setting the baby down between them only out of the corner of his eye because he can’t look away from her face. Her hand is soft as it settles against his cheek, as soft as her voice as she speaks again. Stiles wants to memorize every word she says. Wants to commit this moment to memory in the same way he’ll forever remember the morning of Ava’s birth. Right down the way she presses her lips against his before she says I’ll marry you.

Stiles pulls away from her kiss quickly. “Yeah?” he asks before he laughs for the first time all day. A nervous, giddy kind of laugh as he moves his own hand to her check. “You will?” Her smile is wide when she nods, and he kisses her so hard in response, it’s a miracle he doesn’t crush Ava in the process. It’s her hand against his chest that keeps him just far enough away as he kisses her long and hard this time. His hand stays on her cheek when he does finally pull away, his eyes wet.

“You are good at this, Mal,” he tells her sincerely, that lump back in his throat. “I had this whole plan to ask you on your birthday, but then two days ago, I was an asshole, and you told me you and Ava are here with me because that’s what families do. You’re it. You’re my family. You’ve been my family all weekend.” He pulls her closer again, mumbling against her lips when he says, “We’ll figure out the rest.”

[malia]

His kiss is hard and intense, and then soft and sweet and everything about it feels like home. He is her home. He is her mate. He is her family. And all of the sudden, it doesn’t seem to matter how human she is or isn’t, as long as she knows she’ll be with him for the rest of whatever her life might be…everything seems a little more…right.

The baby squirms between them as she listens to his words, more confident in her abilities than she is herself. He always has been. He’s always made her feel whole like that. She snuggles in closer to him, making sure the baby is okay as she kisses him again and feels his words vibrate against her lips. She knows he’s right. They’ve figured it out this far, and she knows that as long as they’re together…they can figure out everything else too.

She feels giddy, her stomach fluttering with butterflies. Maybe like a schoolgirl with a crush, like on the TV shows she’s seen. She’s always felt that way with him, but now it feels different. More intense. She nips ever so gently at his bottom lip before Ava begins to fuss in between them. It brings her back to reality and she pulls away from him so she can lift the baby into her arms.

“Don’t move,” she says quietly, a hunger stirring between her legs as she thinks about all of the ways she wants to show him how happy he’s made her.

Ava’s eyes are droopy as she settles her down in her portable crib, whispering sweet good nights to her as she settles her pacifier in her mouth. Her heart feels fuller than it’s ever felt before. She never knew happiness like this was even possible.

She’s never been more thankful for that day that Scott and Stiles found her in the woods and changed the entire course of her life.

Stiles is obedient, waiting for her patiently on the bed as she climbs back on, letting him drink in her body as she straddles him. She bites her bottom lip, feeling the way his body responds to her, his erection almost immediately pressing against her center through his shorts. She rests her hands on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath her palms.

“I love you Stiles Stilinski,” she says as she leans down to kiss his chest. She hardly ever says his full name like that and it almost sounds strange coming from her mouth. Would she be Malia Stilinski now? Her mind doesn’t have time to wander far when her body knows exactly what it wants though. “You are my everything.”

[stiles]

His wife. She would be his wife. It’s the only coherent thought he has as he kisses her. And instead of terrifying him like he had thought it would, it leaves him feeling like he can’t get enough of her. He cups the back of her head as he keeps her there, her mouth pressed against his. He wants to memorize the way she tastes in this moment. Wants to memorize the way her mouth fits against his. The warmth of her hand on his chest. The way her hair falls around her, brushing against his wrist. He never wants to forget how she looks, how she feels in this moment when their life together begins again in a new way.

Malia tugs gently at his bottom lip as she pulls away. Her face is lit with the force of her smile, and he wants to remember that too - both her joy and the way it makes his own heart feel like it might burst. He’s just starting to try to find the words to tell her that when she pulls away. His eyes follow her hands as they move to the bed between them, and it’s only then that he even remembers the baby is there. “Oh shit,” he says instinctively as he lifts his arm even though it hadn’t been near the baby. But Malia barely seems to notice as she scoops Ava up and tells him to not move.

If Stiles is honest, nothing could make him move in that moment as he watches her move to her feet. Malia as a mother has undoubtedly been his favorite version of her, but tonight, everything about her seems different. He can’t stop staring at her full breasts, the curve of her waist that’s still different after she carried Ava, her firm backside as she bends down to tuck the baby in. He can feel himself growing hard long before she returns, moving to straddle him instead of taking up her side again. As his only thought becomes that she’s going to be his wife again.

Her words are soft and laced with emotion as she tells him she loves him. Stiles catches her chin with his hand as he holds her gaze. “I love you, Malia Tate,” he responds, rubbing his thumb over her soft skin. “You’re my everything,” he tells her. “You’ve given me everything.”

And she has. This life together, their daughter, her partnership and constant presence in his life. He’s not sure he’s ever been more grateful that she never returned to Sedona than he is in that moment.

He pulls her chin so that he can kiss her as his other hand wraps around to her backside, digging in slightly. He can feel the warmth that radiates from her center, the way she presses her back against his length as she kisses him back. He drops his hand from his face and moves it to her hip instead, running it all the way up to the curve of her breast and then all the way back down. Then back up again where he stops at her breast, cupping it gently as he lets his thumb move back and forth across her nipple.

[malia]

He feels good, that’s all she can think. He feels good, maybe better now than he’s ever felt before as his tongue moves against hers and his hand memorizes her body. She’s not sure if it’s really better because of that fact that she knows what just happened, of if that’s just in her mind, but it doesn’t really seem to matter.

She wants him.

She wants to show him how much this all means to her, how it makes her feel.

So when he moves his hands up to her breast, she moans softly, sighing as his thumb strokes her sensitive nipple. Ava had just eaten, and for some reason, her breasts were almost more sensitive right after nursing. She can feel herself getting wet achingly fast, her body craving his in a way that she’s not sure it ever has before. She shimmies up his body slightly, positioning her breast right there for his mouth. She wants to feel the warmth of his tongue against her. She wants to be with him like this forever. She cups her breast, guiding it to his lips and letting him take her nipple between them. She can’t stop herself as she grinds against him slightly.

She lets her fingers run through his hair, savoring the familiar feeing of the short, soft strands against her fingers. She feels good, but she wants to make him feel good. She reluctantly pulls herself away from his talented mouth so she can shift herself back on his body. She nimbly maneuvers his boxers off and tosses them to the side so she can take his already hard cock into her hand. She squeezes ever so slightly before beginning to stroke him as she bites her bottom lip and watches the way the ecstasy overtakes his face.

Now that was more like it.

[stiles]

There’s something about the way she responds to his touch. Something about the way he knows she’ll arch her back so that her breast fills his palm more fully before she does it. Something about the way her weight shifts his lap in a way that’s as familiar as the back of his own hand. Something about the way she brings her breast to his mouth, a gesture that doesn’t surprise him so much as it makes him crave her even more.

It’s like Stiles’s body knows hers in a way that goes beyond the power of words. Like maybe they really are two halves to the same whole, twin burning flames or mates, if you ask Malia. It’s become increasingly more obvious since they welcomed Ava, but he thinks it was true back in December when she had moved to straddle him in that darkened living room and brought her lips to his for the first time in over a decade. But another part of his brain thinks that maybe this is the way it was back in Eichen House, like even when they were strangers with nothing to lose, some invisible thread had pulled them together.

Whatever the case, he feels it tonight. It burns beneath his skin, this feeling that she’s a part of him. That he needs her closer, needs to be inside of her, moving with her. He obeys when her hand comes to the back of his neck and bites gently at her erect nipple before taking as much of her breast as he can into his mouth, letting his tongue flick over her nipple. He sucks gently and almost immediately tastes milk on her tongue. But that, too, has become something he expects, something he craves. She tastes sweet and warm, and he sucks a second time, hard enough for her to pull at the ends of his hair. Her hips shift against him, seeking out friction there, too, and he inadvertently bites her nipple a second time.

He’s not sure how long he stays there, sucking and nipping against her warm skin, but he’s just about to move to her other breast when Malia pulls away instead. He blinks at her, slightly confused, until he feels her hands at his waist. It’s claws that graze his skin when she pulls at his shorts, and his dick twitches in response. He lifts his hips to help her pull them away, and then he settles back against the headboard, one hand lazily behind his head as he watches the way she takes him in before her warm hand wraps around his length. Her hand is slow and gentle as she strokes up his length before moving it just as slowly back down. She gives him a gentle squeeze, and his hips buck in response. “Shit” he says under his breath as she moves her hand back up a second time, letting her thumb move over his tip before she moves it back down again. Her grip tightens as she strokes him again, letting her thumb trace that same half circle before her fist moves back down to the base of his cock. And he watches her the whole time, eyes glazed over, until she bends down and presses a kiss to his tip, her warm tongue darting out to lick away that bead of moisture.

“Mal,” he manages to say then, his voice tight. And it’s a good thing he stops her then because when she only lifts her gaze to stare up at him through his eyelashes, he thinks it might be enough to push him over the edge then. But that’s not what he wants. As much as he wants to take his time with her tonight, to use his mouth and his hands to bring her to her own climax - multiple times - before he’s ever inside her, that’s reserved for a night when they’re not both bone tired and emotionally drained. And Malia seems to know that too as her body stills before she straightens again, her eyes never leaving his.

Her hand unwraps slowly from his length before she moves slowly on her knees, back up his body until her hips are aligned with his. His hands move to her nips as hers move to his shoulders, claws grazing his skin again as she leans into kiss him again, soft and gentle and sweet. Her eyes flash blue again when she pulls away, rising on her knees again. And it’s all of the answer he needs before his own hands tighten on her hips, guiding her as she positions herself over him. He groans, biting down hard on his lip as cock barely brushes against her entrance. And then she’s moving again, surrounding him completely as he enters her.