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transwolfnetwork · 8 years

Text

for @nonbinarysully. Malia/Scott, with agender!Malia and transmasculine!Scott

What grows up in the cracks of the sidewalk is rarely a rose. Maybe some stubborn grass, or a hopeful dandelion; nothing permanent.

Nothing beautiful.

But maybe that’s wrong, maybe it’s the struggle of survival that makes beauty. Maybe it’s the full-bodied refusal to fail that drives anything to gorgeousness. But Scott has struggled enough, he doesn’t want any more fights. When he picks the dandelion he barely has hope on his side. Nothing more and nothing less. He prays to all the things he’s never believed in to make feel right for the first time in his life.

When the seeds fly off there’s no sudden change in his life, no fairy godmother to put it all back together for him.

He just has himself.

They can’t look each other in the eye anymore, not since she found out about the claws, and fangs, the secret that filled him with the thick gray sludge of shame and doubt. He wants her to at least say that she hates him, her silence hurts so much more than an all out rejection. It’s as though she wants to be done with him.

Scott doesn’t know what to do with it. He doesn’t know what to do with the uncertainty. With the burden of it all. He doesn’t want to wait for his mom to decide that she doesn’t want him, but it’d be easier than the hope that it could be better.

“I’m going to school now mom, there’s breakfast on the table.” She’s there, he can hear her heart beat speed up with a feeling just left of fear.

She doesn’t answer.

He doesn’t go to school. He wanders instead. It’s less lonely to do things like this. At least now he’s the one choosing the loneliness, he can decide to spend his time in solitude instead of being pushed away.

Stiles calls him a few times, worried, but he just fires off a quick text.

‘Had to take a break. See you soon.’

It feels like a lie when he types it out but what can he do?

When he knows his mom is gone he goes back home and packs a bag and takes all the money he’s saved from under his bed. His mind isn’t doing what it’s supposed to, his conscience is supposed to step in, stop him from making stupid mistakes, but Scott just keeps on going.

He gets a small suitcase ready, packing all the clothes he can fit as neatly as possible, and puts his laptop and a few books in his backpack. The rest is replaceable, he could start over in a new place and not worry about the socks he’d left behind or the half-filled notebooks that couldn’t help him.

He leaves a note on the refrigerator.

‘Goodbye, don’t look for me. I love you.’

I love you, I’m sorry.

But Scott can’t bring himself to apologize for something that wasn’t his choice, he’d already made enough apologies in his life for things that weren’t his fault, why should he have to apologize for something he didn’t even want?

He lets the door close behind him with a click. He wonders if the soft sound is a eulogy for his life here, he wants to give a real goodbye, but some ties you have to break completely.

Sometimes you can’t look back.

He takes all the money he’s saved up from his part time job and books a one-way flight to Albuquerque. He has family there, not a lot, but enough that he could find someone to put him up for a night or two, maybe even longer.

He calls his grandmother first to see if she remembered him. he’s always liked her more than any other relatives.

“Hey, grandma it’s me?” The woman on the other line makes a confused sound.

“Son, I don’t have any grandsons. Are you sure you have the right number?”

“Well, I used to be your granddaughter.”

“Sara?”

“Yeah… I was Sara.”

“Well, who are you now then?”

“I’m Scott now.” She sighs over the line and he can hear some rustling, probably her getting out of bed from a nap. She always liked to take naps.

“Well then Scott, I assume you’re coming to visit if you’re calling me now, do you have my address?”

“Is it still the same one in mom’s old address book?”

“392 Holly Street. I’ve never moved, how else would you kids find me?” He laughs.

“So when can I expect you?”

“Tonight, around 8 pm?” There’s a stunned silence.

“Two revelations in one day. I have a grandson and he’s en route! Well, Sa-Scott, call me when you land in Albuquerque and I’ll have one of my friends pick you up.”

“Thanks, grandma.”

“It’s nothing, the least I could do for my grandson.”

The line goes dead with a click and Scott finally feels his heart slow down. He feels bad for springing this on her so suddenly, she hadn’t even seen him in years and he hadn’t called in just as long. He’s grateful, more grateful than he thinks he could ever express.

On the plane, his period strikes with a vengeance. He hadn’t gotten it in months so he figured that it was a perk of werewolf physiology, the only blessing from the curse he’d so wanted to be rid of, but it seems that once again, he was wrong. He doesn’t have the heart to ask the steward for a sanitary napkin and he knows an ibuprofen won’t even make a dent in the pain.

He curls up into himself, wishing that he could run to distract himself from the blood demon tearing through his uterus. He wishes there was some useful site for trans wolves to help them avoid this kind of issue. He doesn’t really have anyone to ask about this kind of thing and it’s not even like regular medicines work well for him anymore so he was hoping that this particular issue would never rear its ugly head again but here he is doubled over in agony, praying for oblivion, or maybe just a tub of ice cream.

He counts every second till touchdown.

A tiny old woman with dark brown skin and wrinkles is waiting for him when he leaves the airport terminal, in her hands in a hastily put together sign:

Welcome, Home Scottie!

He feels a flush spread across his face, but he can’t tell why he’s embarrassed. He just rushes over to her.

“You’re Esperanza’s boy alright. You look just like her.” She takes him by the arm and pulls him out without introducing herself before he can even say ‘Hello’, “Come on, baby, you’re grandmama is expecting you and she promised me empanadas if I bring you over in one piece.” She leads him over to a small gray car that’s seen better days.

“You, young man, are lucky that Bingo was canceled tonight, else you’d be hitchhiking.” He puts his suitcase in the trunk and tries to look as grateful as possible.

“Don’t look so guilty, I get to spend my Friday night in a car with a handsome young fella and Luther Vandross, I haven’t a night this lucky since ‘86.” She pushes in her cassette tape and “Forever, For Always, For Love” spills out of the speakers.

“I’m doing too much of the talking you haven’t said a word since, well since you left the plane I imagine. Tell me about yourself.”

“I’m Scott, I’m a junior, and I work at a vet’s office after school. I really missed my grandmother so I came down to visit her.” She nods, pulling out of her parking spot and merging into traffic smoothly. He’d never seen anyone drive so well.

“Well, Scott I’m Dolores but you can call me Miss Sweet since that’s what your grandmama calls me. I haven’t spent much time with any young people in a while, all my kids and grandkids are grown, but nobodies decent enough to give me any great grands, can you imagine? At least adopt so I can have some little fat legs to tickle.” The highway lights pass overhead and Scott relaxes into his seat.

“That’s too bad, I really love babies too. I wish I had some little cousins or siblings to bring to you.”

“Oh I would just die of relief, I need a little fat baby in my life or a bratty little toddler. Even some little badass kids would warm my heart. Everything that small, rude or not needs love you know, Scottie? It drives me nuts, I’m a little old lady who wants little babies to love. What a mess.” She laughs to herself, sounding almost self-deprecating.

“Your grandmama, told me about your situation, how you used to be.. and how you’re now… well, you know. I don’t know much about that kind of thing, but your grandmama and me, we do a lot of reading, so she’s been quizzing me damn near to death on all of this stuff and I just wanna know, how can we make it comfortable for you here.” There’s an awkward silence that follows the question. He knows Dolores means well, but he’s a little embarrassed to have this kind of question sprung on him. He wants to feel a little upset about being outed, but at least she’s not a bigot.

“Well, I need some pads…”

“Oh… as you know, women at my age don’t need that kind of thing anymore, so we’re gonna have to stop off at a store first.” She pauses for a moment, then asks, “Are you bleeding on my upholstery young man?” He shakes his head.

“No Ma’am, I have… I’m using toilet paper.” She swerves over to the right lane, much to the displeasure of the other drivers.

“This is a certified emergency! We can’t let you deal with that. We’re gonna get you some of those real discreet extra absorbent ones and get you all cleaned up and settled. Look into my purse, I’ve got some baby wipes in there or wet ones. Grab those and my wallet. I’ll drop you at the CVS and get us some chocolate ice cream, you like chocolate?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Well good. If there’s anything I remember from being in that position it’s that chocolate makes it all feel better. So we’re gonna do it like this, you go to the store and I got to the ice cream shop, get a bag of chocolate too if anyone gives you trouble tell them it’s for your girlfriend. After you get the goods go to the bathroom and freshen up so we can continue this little road trip of ours.” She speeds down the highway to the nearest exit and breaks, at least, ten traffic laws speeding down a residential street before finally pulling into the parking lot of the CVS.

She drops him off with a smile and a wave, “I’ll be back in ten minutes.” Before pulling out and speeding off again.

Scott has never bought pads for himself. Before he transitioned it was his mom who went to the store to buy pads and tampons for the house so he never had to learn, after he got bitten and started going through all of the stress that came with it his own period stopped completely and his body went through an all new series of changes that he didn’t think were even possible. The six pack was a nice side effect, but he’d trade it away in a heartbeat to never have to do this kind of thing ever again.

He knows the brand his mom buys for the house, but that kind itches the crap out him and isn’t even sold in this state since he can’t see it’s loud yellow packaging anywhere. In the end, he just settles for a generic unscented brand that’s made from an “all new, ultra-soft, super absorbent!” material and is blessedly lacking any flowers on the packaging.

The hardest part is waiting on line with a shopping basket that has only pads and chocolate in it. He’s going to be found out, he knows it, how many guys actually get their girlfriends pads? He doesn’t know a single guy that considerate, not one. Even he was too shy to get pads for his own mom, and she kept him alive for about 90% of his life.

But when it’s his turn the cashier just smiles at him warmly,”Gosh, I wish my boyfriend was considerate enough to buy me pads. Your girlfriend must be the luckiest girl in the world.” To which his only reply is a shy laugh.

“Do you have a bathroom here?”

“Sure it’s in the back between the pharmacy and the frozen food aisle.” He flashes her a grateful smile and thanks her before rushing off to the bathroom.

When he’s finished with the CVS, Miss Sweet is parked in the same spot she left him in, idly flipping through a worn copy of JET magazine, their ice creams resting on the dashboard. He takes his place in the passenger seat with a sheepish smile and a quiet ‘Thank you.’ He slips her wallet back into her purse and puts the bag of chocolate on the dashboard between the two ice creams.

“I take it everything went well?”

“Yes ma’am, smooth sailing.” She dogeared her page and slipped it under the visor.

“Well then let’s eat our ice cream and see your grandmama. We’ll keep this little trip between us, deal?”

“Deal.”

“Scott! My beautiful handsome grandson!” She pulls him down for a hug and covers his face with kisses.

“It’s been too long! I haven’t seen you since you were a little girl and now here you are, a handsome man! How lucky am I?!” He flushes with a pleased sort of embarrassment.

“I missed you too Abuela.” She laughs, pinching his cheeks.

“Oh, your Spanish is awful! What has my daughter been teaching you all these years?” She pulls him into the living room and sets him down on the soft overstuffed sofa.

He gave the room a quick once-over and realized that it looked almost exactly the same as it had when he was a kid. Paisley furniture with plastic covers that made awful squeaking sounds and delicate little knick-knacks arranged on the fireplace mantle.

She smiles at him brightly, taking his hands in her own,”I’m so glad to have you staying with me. How long will you be visiting for?”

“As long as you’ll have me.”

“Oh, Scott, I’d have you live here forever if I had my choice.” She takes a moment to think before looking back to him,” I told your mother you were coming here.” He tenses up feeling betrayed suddenly.

“Oh…”

“I had to tell your mother otherwise you’d be listed as a runaway. You’re still seventeen even though you’re graduating high school, and if you need to get away for a while it’s best to do it without the very real possibility of cops breathing down your neck and the huge fine that they can pin you with. I told her not to come here or call you until she’s thought about what led you to this position. She seemed quite ashamed when I said that.” Scott can’t imagine his mom being ashamed about anything, least of all this.

“Look at it this way Scott, you have the whole summer ahead of you and there are empanadas in the kitchen waiting to be eaten.“

In the middle of the night, there’s a huge commotion suddenly. He can only hear two heartbeats, his grandmother’s and one he can’t recognize. He gets out of bed and stalks out of his room. Moving quickly and quietly in case it’s an intruder.

“Oh, this again?” His grandmother tuts softly, ushering the other person into the living room and onto the couch. Their scent is almost familiar as if it blends in with the house’s overall smell.

“You’ve got to stop going there, do you understand? You’ve got to stop this before you turn up dead.” She gets the first aid kit from the kitchen and snaps her fingers at the younger person.

“Come on then, show me the damage.” Even though it must hurt badly, they pull off their shirt, and pants, sitting in front of Soledad Delgado in their bra and panties, covered in claw marks.

At the top of the stairs Scott gasps, too softly for his grandmother to hear but just loud enough for a pair steel blue eyes to catch him. They’re more animal than human in this state, all the blood, and hurt pushing them out of it till they’re barely holding it together.

“Good god, Malia.” Malia doesn’t look back at her, they keep their gaze fixed on Scott, unblinking. Even when the cold sting of antiseptic and too tight bandaging of their arms and legs should snap them out of it, they stare on, transfixed.

“Well, what have you got to say for yourself.” Their eyes flicker for a moment, returning to a warm shade of brown as they turn their attention back to Soledad.

“I’m really hungry, and I want to sleep.” Soledad sighs, world-weary.

“Let’s get you bandaged up first, then we’ll worry about food and sleep, okay?” She sets to work cleaning her wounds and wrapping them up with clean gauze, “Don’t think this conversation is over, Malia, we’ll deal with this in the morning.”

Malia nods, unwilling to fight her on this. Their eyes trail back up to where Scott still stands, but this time, they remain a neutral brown. There’s something sad and tired in those eyes, something too cold to the touch. Something more than he can understand.

Their gazes stay locked until Soledad ushers Malia into the kitchen, grumbling, “You young people, always hungry and on the run!”

Scott heads back to his own room as quietly as he came when they’re out of sight and goes back to bed. He doesn’t have enough energy to deal with this and his grandmother clearly has everything well in hand.

“Malia, be a dear and help me season the meat. Scott set the table and then come back for the cooked food and the covers. Today is a day of celebration, I have two beautiful young people in my house for the first time in ages and I can’t tell you how delighted I am!“

Maybe there was something about older women that made them good at taking charge because this was the second time in just as many days that he’d been ordered to do something before he was even greeted. Either way, he set out the plates and utensils, placing a napkin at each of the three place settings with a full roll of paper towel in the middle in the event that there were any mishaps.

He still doesn’t know anything about this Malia person but she seems to have a place here that doesn’t need explaining. He worries over his grandmother’s safety, supernatural creatures and sweet little old ladies don’t seem to mix at all but she doesn’t seem the slightest bit worried about Malia’s identity or powers so he’ll trust her instincts.

“Don’t think you have an easy job here, Scott, as soon I teach you how to handle my kitchen you’ll be cooking and cleaning while Malia and I drink lemonade.”

“I’d be more than happy to do it.” Soledad laughs, clear and bright, and even Malia cracks a smile. They move together in the kitchen comfortably, Scott collecting the cooked food and arranging it on the table while his grandmother produces more and more meat and vegetables and rice every time he turns his head.

Malia doesn’t even look phased by any of it, they just go with it, seasoning and stirring with practiced ease. Even though they’re handling a four burner range and two racks of the oven nothing even comes close to burning. Even when his grandmother comes close to touching a too hot pot Malia is there to gently redirect her hands or focus.

“Oh my angel, always looking out for me.” She pats Malia’s cheek gently and smiles up at her.

“You’re always looking out for me, Mrs. Delgado. The least I could do is make sure that you don’t get burned.” Soledad leans up to kiss them on the cheek.

“You’re a good egg, my love.” Malia lights up, making a happy sound as they lean down to cuddle her.

“Alright, alright, we can cuddle later after breakfast, let’s finish up here so we can eat. You know I have to take my medicine with a good meal.” Malia nods and goes back to focusing on the food.

Scott feels almost like a stranger watching the two of them so comfortable together. Would he ever look like he belonged here the way Malia did? The thought makes him feel strange so he shakes it off, crediting it to hormones and sets back to work arranging the table.

By the time everything is finished it’s past noon and Miss Sweet comes over with a large pitcher of Sweet Tea and a chocolate cake.

“I’m not too late for brunch am I?” Scott takes the cake and tea from her with a small smile and gets a wide grin and a wink in return.

“Of course not Miss Sweet, you’re right on time. I just finished the eggs and I made a special plate just for you.”

“Soledad you sure know how to make an old woman feel young again.” They exchange kisses and everyone finds their place at the table.

“Well look at this, my grandson, finally back at my house, my dear friend, and my angel all at one table! I’m so glad to be able to share this meal with you all. It does a heart good to be surrounded by so many lovely people. I hope I get to spend many more with you all. But for now, let’s eat!”

They all finally dig in, much to Scott’s relief. When he was helping in the kitchen he forgot how hungry he was when he woke up. Now the hunger comes back to him almost twice of strong as he takes his first bite of his portion of beans and rice. A home cooked meal has never tasted so good before in his life.

Across the table Miss Sweet is gushing to his grandmother about her wonderful her food and Scott is right there with her. He knows he’ll probably go through six plates of food before they’re done here but he doesn’t feel as self conscious about it when he sees Malia eating just as much just as quickly. He can see his grandmother’s eyes welling up with tears of joy as she watches them eat her food with such pleasure on their faces.

“After all these years I’ve still got it.”

They fall into a routine after that first brunch. Friday mornings, they make the food, enough to last them until Thursday night, Miss Sweet comes over with a different confection each time and they all eat and talk. The conversation comes out easily after the first few weeks and Scott feels less out of place the more time he spends with his grandmother and Malia.

The two of them teach him how to season meat (“Properly! Salt and pepper aren’t enough!”) and chop vegetables just right so that all of the spices could spread through them and the heat could cook them through just right. His grandmother teaches him with words but Malia has other methods.

They won’t talk much, instead they’ll just come up behind him, covering his hands with their own and guiding him through the motions, should length hair tickling his neck as he tries to focus on what their trying to teach him. They don’t pull back until they’re satisfied with the knowledge that Scott can do it all on his own without anyone having to come back after him and check his work. It’s a little odd for him, he’s had hands on friendships before. Well he’s had one hands on friendship before, but Stiles talked a mile a minute through everyone so Malia’s silence is a little unsettling.

They scent him sometimes, still getting a feel for him. He hasn’t figured out quite what they’re looking for yet but it’s not a mistrust thing anymore so he let’s it go. He probably does his fair share of unsolicited sniffing when he doesn’t even realize it. But they just hold him and cuddle him, sometimes just wrapping their arms around him and following him around the house with almost their whole body wrapped around him.

It’s… well, it’s cute to say the least. Adorable even.

They get a little, contented smile and drop their body weight completely against his back, forcing him to drag them around the house like a puppy. He’s glad that he has werewolf strength because Malia’s body is dense with muscle and having that weight against him would have bowled him over completely if he were just a regular human.

When they’re not wrapped around him they’re cuddled up on his grandma lap on the couch, yarn coiled around their fingers and wrists as Soledad knits an afghan and hums a cheerful tune.

They still haven’t said much to him but he doesn’t feel as upset about it when he hears the quiet conversations with them and his grandmother. Malia likes people in the way that cats do: slowly and on their own time. When they’re ready to talk to him at length he’s sure he’ll never have a peaceful moment again.

He’s looking forward to it.

Things change on Wednesday. It’s just the three of them seated around the square table, eating a simple breakfast when Soledad clears her throat suddenly and looks at them expectantly. She takes a long moment to collect her thoughts before she speaks.

“Now I may be old but I’ve been around the block a few times, I know what happens when a strapping young man and gorgeous young lady are alone in a house together.” She levels them with a searing look. “Don’t get any ideas about fornicating in this house! If you feel the urge borrow the car and go to a motel to handle it, do you understand?”

Scott’s mouth hangs open in shock. Never in his wildest dreams would he ever expect his grandmother to bring this kind of thing up, during breakfast of all times. He can’t even piece together a response to that kind of accusation.

“Grandma!” He sputters out.

“I’m not a lady,” Malia says, still eating her food as if they’d only been discussing the weather, “And I’m not interested in sex so you don’t have to worry about that.” Soledad makes a confused face.

“Is this another one of those things I have to research?”

“I think so, Mrs. Delgado.”

“I won’t have to worry about coming home from Bingo to find you two… in a certain situation?”

“Of course not. We’ll be good, I promise.” Malia gives his grandmother a small sweet smile and all of the awkwardness and tension seems to dissipate when Soledad lets out a sigh of relief.

“Oh thank god.”

Malia Tate is a dirty liar.

As soon as they send his grandmother off for Bingo with Miss Sweet Malia gets a hand around his waist and scents him a decidedly less innocent way than before. Their nose runs the length of his neck and the way they inhale sends a shiver of something down his spine.Before he even pieces together what’s going on they’re kissing on the couch, Malia on top, the whole length of their body covering Scott.

He feels warm in a way that he hasn’t in a long time with Malia’s mouth on his. They kiss him like they’re playing a game where there’s no winner, slow and fun, with no rush in their movements. When he wraps his arms around their waist they let out a soft happy sound, kissing them with more enthusiasm than before. They don’t push it any further than that, just letting the kiss run its course till they finally pull away.

“Let’s go to your room and kiss more.” Scott normally wouldn’t have any objections to this but they literally just promised to be good and not have sex in the house. Going to make out in his bedroom seems like a complete departure from that promise.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Really? Because I’m certain that it is.” And then their mouth is on his neck and pretty much everything they say sounds like a good idea to him.

Fuck.

Malia likes his neck.

They like his neck a lot.

Or at least he thinks they do based on how they’re obsessed with kissing and licking and biting it until he makes some very embarrassing sounds. If it’s a dominance thing he’s certainly bared his neck enough to satisfy them in their position as alpha of the house. But after a while he has to accept it as what it is.

Malia Tate has a neck fetish.

They stare at his neck when they think no one’s paying attention and practically lick their lips with anticipation whenever Soledad starts getting ready to leave for Bingo on Wednesday nights. Sometimes his poor grandmother is barely out the door before Malia has him pressed up against the front door, mouth latched onto his neck like they’ve been in the desert for twenty years and he’s the first water they’ve drunk.

He never appreciated the healing factor more than when the bruises and hickeys on his neck were gone when his grandmother ambles back in at 9 pm sharp. He doesn’t think he could handle the look of shock on her face of their was any evidence of their betrayal.

“You’re being awfully dramatic if you’re thinking of it as a betrayal. We aren’t even having sex.” They’re sprawled across the couch, using his thighs as a pillow, almost teasing him with their scolding.

“She told us to be good and to not fornicate. But whenever she leaves the house you fornicate with my neck and I let you. It’s a betrayal.”

“You don’t know what the word fornicate means do you.” It’s on his list, he just hasn’t gotten to it yet. He words of the day queued up until the end of 2020 and fornicate isn’t until August 9th of this year. But context clues alone let him know it’s clearly something sexual and necking the way Malia does it definitely an experience.

“I understand it enough to know that she’d probably tell us to go to a motel if she ever caught us.” Malia doesn’t argue with him about it. They just smile.

“I guess we’ll just have to stop ‘fornicating’ then.”

“Well… let’s not get carried away.”

He’s impressed and a little touched by the progress his grandmother makes with learning about LGBT stuff. Whenever he goes onto the old computer in spare room to send off an email or to check on his application statuses he always sees the happy little bookmarks bar folder labeled ‘GET WITH THE TIME SOLE’ and it makes him smile every time.

“So you’re not a girl?”

“No.”

“But not a boy also?”

“Yes.”

“Are you the water thing? Like the fluid one?”

“Water?”

“Soledad you’re thinking of genderfluid.” Miss Sweet says helpfully. Soledad’s face lights up.

“Yes! That’s the one, are you genderfluid.” Malia laughs and shakes their head.

“No, I’m nothing!”

Miss Sweet and Soledad instantly take offense to that, assuring Malia that they are not nothing.

“You’re beautiful precious young person!”

“You can’t talk about yourself like that!”

“Don’t worry I know I’m not nothing. I mean that my gender is nothing. It doesn’t exist. There’s no gender there.”

“No gender?” Miss Sweet and Soledad share a confused look.

“So there’s just?” Miss Sweets makes a vague gesture in the air that oddly resembles a bird.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“This wasn’t on the list. I swear you kids these days are so creative, you know everything. No gender.” She’s legitimately awed at the fact that the person sitting before her is completely devoid of gender. She takes a minute to take it all in.

“So do you have any adjective preferences? Or pronouns we should try? Do you want to be handsome or beautiful?”

“Miss Sweet it’s all the same to me but I use they/them pronouns.” And Miss Sweet lets out a sigh of relief.

“A set of pronouns I actually know. I could get used to calling you ‘they’. I’ve been calling you she in my head all this time because I just didn’t know but now that you’ve told me we’re in business.” Malia smiles at her like a Christmas tree in the middle of the night.

“Thank you Miss Sweet, that means a lot to me.”

He’s fallen into a comfortable routine here, so much so that he’d almost forgotten why he was here in the first place. But in July, a letter comes.

It has his name on it.

It’s for him.

But there’s only one person in the world who’d send him something from Beacon Hills and the thought of her still wounds him to his core. He doesn’t really want to think about her or read her letter.

Her silence said it all.

He runs. Just tears off in the middle of the night and runs till he finds a place to be alone.

He doesn’t know how long he stays there, crying, but by the time he’s back home the sun is coming and Malia is in his bed waiting.

They don’t accuse him of anything they just pat the space next to them in bed, inviting him to rest. He knows his face is probably still puffy from the crying and that his whole body smells like sadness and mulch but Malia doesn’t seem to care about that.

They just want to hold him.

He doesn’t remember starting to cry again but he remembers Malia’s arms around him.

He remembers not feeling ashamed.

After that night, Malia sleeps in his bed all the time. Every night before he closes his eyes their arms wrap themselves around him and he finds himself feeling more at peace than he has in a long while.

His grandmother doesn’t comment on their new sleeping arrangement. He imagines that the two of them had a conversation about asexuality finally and that calmed her worries of ‘fornication’. Either way, he’s grateful for the company.

He doesn’t trust himself to not run away again.

The letter from his mom is waiting for him in his bedroom, still unopened in the drawer where he left it. He needs to be outside to clear his head, he’s not sure he can trust himself to read that letter until he’s in a better state of mind.

But he’s been telling himself that for a month now.

Scott picks a nearby dandelion, twirling it in his fingers absently. What could he wish for in a time like this? Courage? Strength? Peace? He’s not sure any of them would help him much in this case.

He’s not scared of what it will say, not anymore. If his mom doesn’t want him then he knows that he’s more than welcome to stay with his grandmother until he gets everything together. He has a support system here, so even if he falls apart, someone can help put him back together and there’s no danger to it.

There’s no fear of abandonment anymore, so what’s stopping him?

“If you keep thinking so hard your brain will melt.” Malia flops down on a lawn chair beside him. Most of their injuries are healed by now, all that remains is particularly stubborn wound on their arm that requires constant cleaning and rewrapping.

“What else can I do?” They lean back and close their eyes.

“You could just relax, just let it all go and let yourself breath for half a second. That’s an idea.” The sun shines down on them and makes them look as if they’re glowing with contentment. He wishes it was that simple for a guy like him to relax.

Maybe it says something about him. Maybe he’s the one that’s more nerves than man and Malia’s the one who’s got it all put together. When was the last time he didn’t have any worries?

“I don’t know how to do that.”

Malia doesn’t laugh at him or tease him.

“That’s okay. You still have time to learn.”

They kiss him, quick and chaste. All affection and goodwill spreading from his mouth to the entire rest of his body. Malia smiles at him and ruffles his hair.

“I’ll give you your first lesson free.”

#maliascott #scott mccall #malia tate #agender #transmasculine #christmas exchange 2015 #fic #nonbinarysully

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