Chapter Text
Good Night
Stifling a yawn, Malia slid into bed, slipping under the covers carefully, trying to avoid disturbing Scott. He was passed out on the other side of the bed, flat on his back, one arm folded under his pillow, the other lying across his chest.
Rolling on her side, she watched him sleep, illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the window, taking in his peaceful expression, something she didn't get to see enough of lately. Everybody was on pins and needles, waiting for Monroe to regroup, to make her next move, whatever elation they may have felt at the defeat of the Anuk-Ite cancelled out by the frustration that came with not knowing what was coming next. It was bad enough he'd pushed his plans for college back a year, unwilling to commit to leaving while a threat hung over Beacon Hills, over his friends and loved ones.
If she was being honest with herself, as much as it pained her to see him have to put off his dreams for now, a selfish part of her was happy he was sticking around. It gave them a chance to explore their new relationship, to spend time together, just the two of them. And if she felt a little guilty for thinking like that, it was washed away by the fact he was there, with her, close enough to touch whenever she got the urge. And that was an urge she felt often.
Unable to stop herself, she reached out, fingers finding his arm, gently tracing over his tattoo. She knew she should leave him be, should just let him sleep. He was exhausted, finding a distraction from the anxiety in the physical labour that came with doing what he could to repair the bullet damage inflicted on his house by the hunters. It was repetitive work, and the damage had been extensive, but it gave him, gave them something to do while their connected friends tried to hunt down a lead, any lead on Monroe's whereabouts.
Good for the mind, he'd told her one day as he took apart a cabinet too riddled with bullet holes to be saved, and easier on the bank account.
She was happy to help where she could, putting her own strength to good use. Unfortunately, between them, they knew next to nothing about fixing things. Argent and Derek were a help in that regard, getting them started, explaining what to do, then letting them go until they were too tired to continue. Then it was a shower and bed, rinse and repeat, day after day. And she enjoyed every second of it, the monotonous work just background noise as she spent all the time she could with the man she loved, talking, sharing ideas and hopes, deepening the connection between them.
Slowly, Scott stirred, shifting toward her as his eyes cracked open. She watched as he blinked blearily a couple times, before focusing on her, a lazy smile spreading across his face. "Hey," he murmured, clasping a hand over hers where it rested on his arm.
"Hey," she said softly, mirroring his expression. "Go back to sleep. I was just..."
He waited a beat after she trailed off, then his smile turned teasing. "Just couldn't keep your hands off me, huh?"
She might have laughed, if his joke wasn't so close to the truth. Instead, she arched an eyebrow, a smirk playing about her lips, and said, "Careful, your ego is showing."
His grin deepened. "She says, as she continues touching me." When she went to pull away, he tightened the grip he had on her hand, holding it in place. "Hey, I never said I didn't like it. I—" His words were lost then as his mouth opened wide in a massive yawn.
"All right," Malia said, taking that as a sign, "time for sleep. It's gonna be an early morning tomorrow, right?"
"Yeah," he mumbled through another yawn. "Drywall's supposed to be delivered." As he spoke, words starting to slur, he shifted onto his side, turning his back to her. His hand was still grasping hers, and as he rolled, he pulled gently, drawing her toward him, bringing her arm over his side and clasping it to his stomach.
As she settled in behind him, tucking her knees behind his and laying her head on his pillow, Malia couldn't help but smile. It was something she'd been a little surprised by the first time they'd shared a bed and she'd instinctively wrapped herself around him. How he seemed perfectly happy to fall asleep like that, how he'd initiate it even. She knew, from previous experience, that some guys had a problem with being the little spoon, would resist it, but he never said a word. Given how he liked to hold her when they were sitting together, his arms around her, clasping her tight, it caught her off-guard. And she had to admit she was a little curious, regardless of how much she liked it.
"Scott?" She kept her voice soft, in case he was sleeping, but after a second, he grunted. "Can I ask you something?" Another grunt. "How come you never complain about this?"
Shifting slightly, he drew in a deep breath through his nose, then let it out slowly. "'Bout what?" he muttered sleepily.
"This." She squeezed lightly, pressing her palm flat to his stomach. "Being the little spoon."
He huffed out an amused breath. "Everyone likes to be the little spoon. Makes you feel safe."
She let out a little snort at that. "Some people do not like it. Trust me."
"Well, I do." He sounded more asleep than awake, voice heavy with fatigue, words muffled by his pillow. "They don't know what they're missing." For a second, he was quiet, and she almost thought he'd fallen asleep. Then, abruptly, he moved, rolling over to face her. Even in the dark, she could see his eyes, his face inches from hers, brow furrowed. "Is this bugging you or something?"
"No, no!" She waved off his words, the shrugged, a sheepish grin twisting her lips. "I don't know, I was curious." She paused, hesitating for a second. "It's just, I've never been with somebody who's so okay with it right from the start. I don't know. I'm over-thinking it. Am I being stupid?"
"No." Reaching out, he brushed some of her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear, the corner of his mouth ticking up in a little smile. "They were the stupid ones. I mean, who doesn't like being held by a gorgeous woman as they fall asleep?"
Grinning at his words, she leaned in and kissed him, short, quick. "So, that's it, then?" Pulling back just a little bit, she looked into his eyes. "You really just like it?"
He was still for a brief second, then arched an eyebrow. "Honestly?"
"Yeah."
"I don't really care how I sleep. You've seen me. I sleep like the freaking dead. But I know you like it." He paused, shrugging slightly. "When it comes down to it, what I like is sleeping with you. I like falling asleep knowing you're here with me, and I like waking up and feeling you nearby. That's all I care about. If for some reason you really wanted to sleep in the bathtub, I'd find a way to make it work." A wide grin split his face as she chuckled, ducking her head slightly. "Seriously. That's just... how it is. Whatever you like, I'm down for. The fact I get to wake up with your arms around me this way, well, that's just a big bonus in my eyes. All right?"
Meeting his gaze, she nodded slowly, a little flushed, touched by his words, the sentiment. It always hit her hard whenever he voiced the little ways he cared about her, little hints of how he felt about her, about what they were doing together. He was a lot more open than she'd thought before they became an item, and she loved it, revelled in it every time he showed it.
"Good. How about we get some sleep now?"
"Yeah, good idea."
Again, he rolled over, and again she took up her usual spot behind him, cuddled up to his back, arm looped over his side, holding him tight to her. Quiet descended in the room, their soft breathing the only sound disturbing the silence. Malia could feel her eyelids drooping, getting heavier, slumber drawing closer as she listened to the slow, steady beating of his heart.
Then, "Scott?"
"Yeah?"
"It would be okay, I guess, if sometimes you wanted to be the big spoon. Just sometimes," she quickly added, as she felt him tense, whole body going still. "We could, y'know, switch it up a bit. If you want to."
Before the laughter burst from his lips, she felt it welling up in his chest, his whole body reverberating with suppressed mirth before it broke free. She opened her mouth to say something, she wasn't sure what, but he cut her off. "I'll keep that in mind," he murmured through his chuckles, as his hand found hers and squeezed softly. "Good night, Malia."
"Good night."