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Derek introduces Malia to Stiles. Stiles then reintroduces Malia to the bathroom.
March 5, 2017
Hale House
It's not too late in the day, but Derek was supposed to be around and has been away without any notice for some time. Whether or not Stiles is awake to notice, at Hale House, the door opens again, unlocked, to admit Derek in his tank top and wolfed out, with a younger woman wearing his overshirt, which thankfully is a little long even on him, but on her manages to be practically an all-covering minidress.
"I'll be right back," Derek rumbles, stalking off with purpose. He moves quietly enough, but it's his usual sort of sound in movement. Drawers are opened, and another kind of drawers are drawn from them. After going through a couple of options, he returns to the other room and holds out a relatively sedate pair of boxer shorts to Malia. They have Ewoks dancing on them. Once she accepts those, he's out of the room again, looking to see if Stiles is still in bed.
He's going to need help to do this. Alpha or no, he's not doing it alone.
Other than the few words from earlier, she's remained quiet. To be fair, some of that has been due to shock, but that's thankfully starting to wear off. So, it is in silence that Malia is ushered into Hale House.
When Derek speaks, she look to him and nods. Her eyes wander over the interior while her ears focus in on the sounds from the other room. She is in the middle of wiggling her toes, trying to get used to how strange everything feels now, when Derek returns. She glances from him to the boxer shorts and furrows her brow, whether it's from the new requirement to wear clothing or the Ewoks, it's hard to say. Regardless, she puts them on, but makes no move to maintain any modesty. Of course, Derek is already leaving again.
Still feeling cold, she moves further into the house but makes a point not to touch anything.
Stiles is still in bed. Sprawled awkwardly after half-awakedly trying to snuggle up to Derek a while earlier, he has one leg and one arm hanging off the bed, his face buried in the sheets where Derek had been sleeping. Consciousness is coming slowly, and he's starting to stir. One hand makes its way to his face, where he rubs against his cheek, half-opening one eye. Should he get up? Probably. But so far, he's not quite managing to muster the will to do so.
It's only after a few minutes that Derek seems to remember he's wolfed out, so he shifts back to a more human appearance and clears his throat quietly. He softly pets at the top of Stiles's head. "Stiles," he quietly speaks. "I need you." It would probably be very sweet to hear, in other circumstances, slightly different meanings.
Derek Hale phases to his human form.
Her initial intent to find somewhere warmer shifts since the longer she spends in the house, the warmer she feels. Still not enough to make her stop missing her fur, but enough that she has certainly stopped shivering. After taking a moment to think, Malia stops, realizing she'd be rather pissed if someone came into her den and went somewhere she didn't want. So in the end, she just stays in one spot, well enough from the walls for it to be warm, but far enough away from anything else so that it won't be weird when Derek returns.
Stiles' head lifts with a slight start, enough that his wild splay of bedhead smoooshes into Derek's hand. Shifting so he can roll onto his side and then sit up, he makes a pinched, squinty sort of face and says, "Yeah? What's up?" Sliding out of bed, he grabs at whatever clothing he can find and starts dressing. Once he's generally presentable (save for a lingering case of the aforementioned bedhead), he turns to Derek, offers a crooked little grin, and says, "So, what's up? Please don't tell me Peter's back."
"Not...Peter." Derek again clears his throat and offers some help for Stiles to get out of bed. "Remember that coyote I saw around the property?" The one he's been seeing. Regularly. And he's pretty sure he's had conversations with. He's definitely sure now. Stiles might even hear that there's someone else in the house, and that someone is definitely not coyote-sized.
Malia continues to take in her new surroundings, studying the floor, the furniture, hell even the ceilings. Of course, she's also listening to the voices coming from the other room. She also takes in a few deep breaths, recognizing some of the scents, learning new ones. Her eyes then catch her reflection in a shiny surface. She blinks at the person she sees, since it is the first time she's seen her face like this in years and she looks nothing like the child she vaguely remembers. She also notices how wild her hair looks, but makes no motion to tame it or even remove the stray leaves that are in it.
Stiles does a double-take toward the door, his brow furrowing. "Wait," he says slowly, "you let in a--?" He goes to the door, opens it, then pauses and turns back to Derek. "Is there--? Dude, you've got to be kidding me." He glances back out the door, then moves to slip outside of it. "So there's were-coyotes now, is that it?" He glances around, looking to see if he can catch sight of this new, mysterious presence.
Derek's brow flattens along with his mouth, into a thin line as he sets his jaw. "Apparently." That's all he'll say about that. "There's something...different about her." Maybe Stiles can notice it too. Maybe not. But Derek is absolutely certain that there is something distinctive about Malia. Aside from even the obvious thing of being a werecoyote, and living as a coyote for what was evidently a long time. He opens the door as Stiles slips out, quickly catching him up in silence. He turns his head to look right where he knows Malia is -- he can smell everyone in the house, of course.
At the sound of opening and closing doors, Malia turns from considering her reflection and looks in their direction. She had been listening to their conversation but the word 'werecoyote' is a new one for her. She had always just thought of herself as well, herself. She doesn't speak yet, she just watches the two of them enter the room, her eyes shifting between the two of them. Despite the crazy hair and the clothing that is clearly not hers, she looks relatively at ease with a neutral expression on her features. Key word being looks. In reality, she is continuing to assess the situation and hope that she made the right decision in coming here.
Stiles regards Malia, jaw dropping a little, and he then lets out a low whistle. "Wow. So... huh." He looks to Derek, brow furrowing, and then back to Malia. "Yeah. Hi." He gestures to Derek. "Guess you know Derek, here. I'm Stiles. You, uh... need anything?" There's definitely something about the girl, but for the moment he's mostly noticing the fact that she's a girl, and by the look of it she's a girl who might need some help. "Like, maybe some real clothes or, like, a shower?"
Derek's first impulse is to fold his arms over his chest, as he usually does as a default resting position, but he doesn't want to appear imposing. So for a moment or two, he just sort of hangs out there, looking only slightly awkward. But this is his home, this is his house -- he finally gets his bearings more fully after a moment of being off-kilter and breathes deeply in through his nose.
"I'm sure she remembers the basics, but she might appreciate a...refresher." Hopefully, just being shown the bathroom will bring it all back. It's like riding a bicycle! Even easier! Harder to forget! Derek tries to smile, which is something of an unsettling gesture at first, but it becomes warmer. "I am Derek. This is Stiles. Do you have a name?"
Malia focuses her attention on Stiles when he speaks. She nods when he says his name and then Derek's, but gives him a quizzical look when he asks if she needs anything. At the mention of clothing she glances down at what she is wearing: the (on her) oversized shirt and Ewok boxers. When she look back up at Stiles, one brow is still raised. "These are real clothes." At the mention of a shower, she just blinks at him.
She shifts her focus to Derek and her demeanor changes slightly. While she doesn't see the immediate need for a shower, Derek's words indicate he thinks it might be a good idea, so she reconsiders it. "Yes. Shower. Warmer clothes." After he says their names again her gaze flicks over to Stiles then back to Derek before she answers, "Malia."
Stiles smiles at Malia as reassuringly as he can, then gestures to her and down the hall. "Uh, c'mon. I'll show you the bathroom. You, uh... know how to use one, right?" He opens the bathroom door, motioning inside. "There's towels and stuff in here. I'll go find you some better clothes." He shoots Derek a look, back over his shoulder. "We'll talk and stuff once you get back out." Then, rather awkwardly, he steps back, away from the bathroom. With any luck, she won't ask for any more help, 'cause that would just be--yeah, no.
"Malia." Derek repeats, and he can't stop his slight frown, even if it's banished as quickly as it appears. He lets Stiles take her to the bathroom, although he gives a kind of questioning, even mildly hurt, reaction to the look he's shot by Stiles. What was that for?! It's not like it's his fault! This is all happening without his permission. He's just trying to minimize the fallout.
Malia follows Stiles to the bathroom, her feet making hardly any noise as she moves. She gives him an even look as he points out the various features. As he is starting to go, Malia begins undressing. The shirt is taken off and dropped to the floor without ceremony. Stiles can probably get the door closed before she slips the boxers off.
After that, the only sound coming from the bathroom is the sound of the running water and the occasional splash indicating additional movement of water. It's not a long shower, all told maybe 10 minutes. Then there is the rustling of towels, the flush of a toilet. She doesn't actually use it, she just wanted to make sure she did remember how it worked. Given the amount of steam that is released when she opens the door again, she clearly had a very hot shower. She's at least wearing a towel now and the leaves have been either rinsed or picked out of her now very damp hair.
Catching a glimpse of Malia undressing is enough to send Stiles scrambling out the door, pulling it hastily shut. Wearing socks without shoes as he is, he slips and slides a little, only managing to avoid falling by reaching out to grab hold of the wall and, after a bit more scrambling, Derek. Straightening up, he clears his throat and says, "Do me a favor. Don't put me on bath duty next time, okay?" Then he sighs, running a hand through his hair, and says, "So, you got some, I dunno, sweats or something?"
Derek just silently watches Stiles slide and flail and, after a second's hesitation, reaches out to grab him just as Stiles reaches back. Great minds! "Oh." So that's what the look was for. "I'm still kind of...sorry, I smelled something. Malia led me to this place where a vampire on her tail...met with its end. On a convenient tree branch. But that's not the smell..." He carefully makes sure Stiles can stand on his own, before resting one hand on his shoulder and the other atop his head. "You shouldn't wear socks on hard floor."
Stiles gives Derek a mild look, then a one-armed hug before he more carefully moves off. Vanishing into one of the rooms, he rummages about a bit until he finds a pair of sweats. Gathering these up, he emerges and offers them a bit gingerly to Malia. "You might wanna, uh, change inside the bedroom," he offers lamely. Then, looking back to Derek, he belatedly retorts, "Well, you're not supposed to wear shoes in the house."
Malia takes the offered clothing, then glances back into the bathroom. She turns, kneels down, and grabs the shirt and boxers she had left in there. It's probably a good thing Stiles said something, since she was about to change right then and there. After standing and turning back to the two of them, she tilts her head at Stiles, since the whole notion of being in a room to put on clothes is a little odd to her, but she doesn't argue. Part of her is beginning to remember about that sort of thing, but it's been years and growing up how she did she lost that sense of propriety years ago. Instead, she just asks, "Which one?" She glances over to Derek at the comment about shoes in the house, then looks back at Stiles.
"Right." Derek answers Stiles, with an undertone of "duh". It takes him a few seconds more to realize he's wearing shoes at the moment, which makes him frown mildly. He reaches down to start unlacing them. "Uh, whichever. So you can have some privacy." He gestures in the direction of one of the rooms, specifically one that Stiles or himself won't be sleeping in at some future point, just in case she doesn't get that she doesn't have to use the same one every time.
Stiles nods along with Derek, gesturing to the indicated room, and then he looks down at his feet, up at Derek, and shrugs. Balancing on one foot, he tugs off a sock, then he switches feet and does the same thing again, leaning on Derek some to keep his balance, With socks in hand, he straightens up, trying to look less silly than he feels. After a moment, he tosses his socks back into the room that he's been sharing with Derek. "Okay, so, that's... a start," he sighs. Then, half-smirking and half-grimacing, he asks, "So what's next? Figures Tucson's not around when we could use a were-coyote's insights."
Malia makes no comment about the shoes or the socks and she just heads towards the bedroom Derek had gestured towards, speaking softly to herself. "Privacy..." She says the word as if trying it out, seeing how it feels in her mouth. She's smart enough to get the hint and actually closes the door before getting dressed.
Derek watches Malia go, allowing Stiles to use him as a leaning post whenever he needs one. Derek is absolutely solid in place, before and after he's removed his own shoes and socks. It's probably no surprise at this point. It's expected of the alpha. "I don't know," he answers, after a short stretch of silence. "I don't know what to do. But we have to protect her. She has to be a part of the pack, if only for her own protection." She's been targeted already.
Stiles' response is a little, knowing smirk that quickly spreads into a grin. "Look at you," he says, clearly amused. "Gettin' all sentimental on me." Then, more seriously, he bobs his head in a quick nod. "But, yeah. Agreed. Scott'll agree, too. She's clearly in trouble, and we've gotta help her out." He pauses, idly biting the inside of his cheek, and then reaches into his pocket to take out his phone. "I wonder..." He starts tapping out a Google search.
It doesn't take Malia long to change and she comes back out wearing the same shirt and this time the boxers are covered by the sweats. She's toweling out of the excess moisture from her hair and then looks between Derek and Stiles, holding out the damp towel. She glances towards the bathroom, the unspoken question being "Does it go back in there?"
Once it's indicated where she should put the towel she simply asks, "Pack?" The look on her face is still fairly neutral but there's a hint of wariness in her eyes now. This is followed by, "Scott?"
Derek gives Stiles a mild sort of look, but it's not too severe. Stiles probably shrugs these looks off like water from a duck's back, at this point. When Malia comes back out, he nods and takes the towel, walking into the bathroom and hanging it up on the rack to dry. Then he emerges to join the other two again. "Are you hungry? We have food. You're safe here." First things first.
Stiles gives Derek an approving look, smiling some in support, and then turns toward Malia again. "Yeah!" he says, grinning a bit. "The pack, it's like--kinda like a big family, mostly full of people like you and Derek, uh... y'know. Were-types. Scott's one of you, too. He and Derek are the alphas, like... the leaders of the pack. Basically, we can help you."
Given that Malia has spent a good chunk of her life not knowing where her next meal is coming from, her instincts won't allow her to turn down a meal and she isn't picky. "Yes, food."
At the mention of safety and then Stiles brief explanation of the pack, she just glances between the two of them before saying, "Help me? Teach me how to kill them." She feels she is being pretty obivous in referring to the vampires, as Derek called them, but there is certainly room for interpretation.
"Scott's a wolf." Derek feels the need to point this out; misunderstandings about who's a coyote and who isn't are best when they're prevented before they really and truly happen. Not that it comes up in other parts of life, but it's come up now and it bears addressing. He starts to walk in the direction of the kitchen, expecting that Stiles and Malia will follow him closely.
It takes Derek a moment to realize who the "them" is that Malia refers to, but he just raises a hand, waving over his shoulder. "Food first. Then training." It probably would surprise Liam to hear that.
"How to kill--?" Stiles starts to ask, but then it all comes together. "Oh, them. Well, we don't always kill them. Some of them are, y'know... decent people." He arches his eyebrows a bit, looks to Derek, then asks, "So, uh. Breakfast, I guess." Then he heads for the kitchen, intent on getting that started.
Malia follows them, moving as quietly as she had before. Derek's comment about Scott being a wolf gets a nod, she'd been learning some of the scents of the folks that seemed to come and go around the place and none of them smelled anything like a coyote, normal or otherwise.
She narrows her eyes slightly at Stiles, her lips becoming slightly thinner. The reaction is more from her remembering what happened and not him specifically, but it's hard to tell based on just her body language. "You kill them when they mean to kill you. And this one didn't smell decent." A slight pause. "Or like people."
"That's why it's important to know the difference," Derek notes, starting to gather the things needed for his vision of breakfast. It will be a bit of a larger, more involved one than it would have otherwise been, but he had been planning a nice enough breakfast, or maybe even brunch, since it's Sunday and they've all been through a lot lately. Now they'll need enough for three. "Are you...allergic to anything, or can I just make whatever?"
"Pancakes," Stiles declares. "I'll make pancakes. I'm kinda guessing she'll want protein, though, so maybe some eggs or whatever?" He starts assembling ingredients of his own, flashing Derek a grin. "Pancakes are definitely something worth having if you've been eating nothing but--" He pauses, making a bit of a thoughtful face, and then amends, "Actually, I don't wanna know what. Point is, pancakes are definitely in order."
"Allergic?" Malia remembers seeing campers get stung by bees and then one of them stabbing the other with some device that made things better. She's never had a reaction like that to bees or food, so she just shakes her head at Derek and then adds a "No" as an afterthought. To Stiles she just says "Food is food." She doesn't seem offended by his comment but it could be she doesn't get it either. Still, he is probably right in that he doesn't want to know about some of the stuff she's eaten.
While she is noticing the familiarity between them and how easy smiles seem to come to Stiles, her face has yet to be graced by one. Her mouth is still in a line, less pressed than before, but there is a slight furrow to her brow. She's worried and not trying to hide it.
Derek listens, silent for that time, and then says, about the same time as Stiles says it, "You don't want to know what." It makes him smile just a little, almost imperceptibly, but he knows Stiles will notice. When pancakes are decided, Derek sets out some bowls and starts the griddle heating, then he sets out the cooking spray. They have been through this a few times before, obviously.
Stiles grins at Derek, falling easily into sync with him, but as he prepares the ingredients he also casts frequent looks Malia's way. After a few moments, he tilts his head and asks, "So, Malia, uh... you doing okay? You look like Derek when somebody makes a bad joke at the wrong time during a pack meeting." He goes to poke around in the refrigerator, coming back with a package of blueberries and a triumphant expression. "So, it's gonna be good pancakes," he declares.
Malia continues to watch the two of them, the way they look at one another. Stiles' earlier words about the pack being like family return to her, but instead of being comforting, they only make her more worried. Her and family don't go very well together. When Stiles addresses her, her eyes go to him. Her expression shifts from worried to slightly puzzled before it returns to something more neutral.
"I'm okay. Someone else might not be. Vampires, only at night?" If the answer is yes, she'll relax a little. Ted is still in her den and if these vampires can track by scent, find the remains of their fellow and try to track her, they'll find a very angry badger. But angry badgers aren't a match for bulging foreheads and sharp fangs.
"Only at night. Is there someone else that needs protection?" Derek is offering, it's an invitation, obviously. He doesn't know that it's Ted the badger, but he's not the type to backpedal on an invitation. Hospitality is kind of important, whatever happens.
Scott might not be so happy to find his former facehugger at Hale House, though.