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scoliasecretsanta · 6 years

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A Perfect Day

To: @mischiefmalia From: @stylisticnightmare

Title: A Perfect Day

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 3,600

“Almost got it��”

Looking up, Scott couldn’t help but smile as he watched Malia, a look of intense concentration on her face, add what had to be a tenth piece of tape to present she was wrapping. He was pretty sure it was one of the books she’d bought for Lydia, but it was hard to tell. She’d misjudged how much paper she needed initially, and had apparently decided to cover the resulting holes by just taping a bunch of smaller, mismatched pieces over them.

Spending part of his Christmas Eve wrapping presents wasn’t something he’d ever intended. Usually, it was something he got out of the way a lot earlier, but this year had been particularly hectic, throwing everything a little bit off. There was the on-going war with Monroe and her people. There was the animal clinic, where he’d been working as much as possible up until just a few days ago, both to make some extra money and to make sure everything got done so he and Deaton could take a few days off over the holidays. And then there was the return of Stiles and Lydia to Beacon Hills for Christmas, both of whom wanted to make up for all the lost time they’d spent away for school. It all added up, keeping him and Malia busy almost constantly, and away from each other more than they liked.

Originally, they’d decided to take Christmas Eve as a day just for themselves, to spend some time together and relax a bit. Christmas day was going to be hectic, their first as a couple, splitting time between meals with her dad and his new girlfriend, and his mom and Argent, with some inevitable stops in between to visit with the rest of their friends. They needed a break before all that, a little breather, some alone time, something that had been extremely hard to come by lately.

Things had started well, most of the afternoon spent curled up on the couch together, watching a Friends marathon, eating pizza, and talking. It was quiet, peaceful, and exactly what they needed. And then he’d gone into the kitchen to get a drink and spotted the rolls of colourful paper his mom had left stacked next to the microwave, bringing on the sudden horrible realisation that it was Christmas Eve and he had a pile of presents sitting in the bottom of his closet that he’d completely forgotten to wrap. It turned out she was in the same boat, so their plans had been put on hold then as they brought everything downstairs and settled in to get that done as quickly as possible, so they could get back to doing nothing.

“There!” Grinning, Malia held up the misshapen package triumphantly, looking prouder of herself than he remembered ever seeing. Until her eyes slid to his right, onto the small pile of neatly-wrapped presents lying next to him on the couch, and her face abruptly fell. Looking back to her own gift, she pursed her lips and slowly shook her head, then dropped it down on the floor beside her, dejected. “I suck at this.”

“No, no,” he quickly insisted, injecting as much sincerity in his voice as he could, “It looks good!” When she greeted his words with only a raised eyebrow, he grinned sheepishly and shrugged. “Really, I like it. I think it shows you tried, y'know? It wasn’t easy, but you put some effort into it and got it done. People appreciate effort.”

“Yeah, right,” she replied, rolling her eyes and frowning as she tried to smooth down some of the tape on her gift with a finger. “I’m sure people take a lot of time to appreciate the effort before they tear it all to shreds.”

“I do."

"Yeah, well, you’re weird.”

Chuckling, he shook his head as he started on his next present. “The weirdest.” With practiced ease, he wrapped his gift, neatly folding the paper, lining up the edges, and sealing the whole thing with a single piece of tape across the top. After grabbing a marker and sloppily scrawling ‘Stiles’ across the front, he went to add it to the pile, and happened to look up to find Malia watching him, envy and disbelief warring on her face. “What?”

She waved weakly at his presents, then threw up her hands. “How? How are you so good at this?”

“I don’t know. Practice?” He shrugged. “My mom taught me, and she’s really good at it. When I was a kid, she’d let me help her wrap whatever little things she got for her coworkers. I guess it stuck.”

“It’s not fair,” she said, a sour look on her face as she held up her gift. “Look at this thing. You’re like a gift-wrapping machine, and mine looks like somebody ate the wrapping paper and puked it back up in a pile. I'm—” She cut off and ran a frustrated hand through her hair, grimacing when her fingers caught on something. “And I’ve got tape in my hair. One gift and I’ve already got tape in my hair! What the hell?” Gritting her teeth, she pulled at it, letting out a little pained hiss when it came loose, taking a couple strands of hair with it. It stuck to her fingers when she tried to drop it, leaving her shaking her hand violently until it finally let go and fluttered down onto the table. “Do we really have to do this? It’s so freaking dumb. It’s free stuff. You think anybody’s going to complain just because it’s not wrapped?”

Again, he laughed, shaking his head at the pleading look on her face. “Yeah, I think we kind of have to. I don’t think it would feel right if we just, like, handed gifts out as they were. It’s all part of the Christmas experience, right? I mean, isn’t part of the fun watching them open it, seeing the look on their face?”

With a dismissive snort, she waved off his words. “Is that worth… all this?” She gestured to the scraps of paper and tape littering the floor around her and the table between them, dotted throughout with peeled-off price tags and balled up receipts. “I don’t think so. Besides,” she said, voice abruptly dropping slightly, taking on a flirty tone out of nowhere, “isn’t there something a little more fun we could be doing instead?” Catching his eye, she reached across the coffee table, trailing fingers down the inside of his forearm. “We are all alone…”

Scott blinked, looking from her face to her fingers and back again, before a grin slowly spread across his face. “Are you—are you trying to seduce me just to get out of wrapping Christmas presents?”

Malia reared back, face the picture of righteous indignation. “What? No. I would never…” Trailing off under his amused gaze, she tilted her head slightly, looking at him through narrowed eyes. “Is it working?”

Throwing back his head, he let out a burst of laughter. “Oh yeah, definitely. But… we still need to finish this. Sorry.”

She let out what might have been a growl and muttered something under her breath he chose to ignore, but grabbed another gift from her pile and reluctantly started the process again.

Leaning back, he watched her work in silence for a minute, more amused than he would ever admit as he saw her expression change, the grudging acceptance of the task at hand fading quickly, replaced by a look of determination, resolved to get things done. It was the same look she’d had on her face a month into their relationship when she’d decided she was going to cook them breakfast despite having no idea what she was doing. And she’d done it, in the end, the frustration thrown in the trash with several batches of burnt bacon, washed away by the sense of accomplishment, happiness, and a satisfied smile he absolutely loved.

But tonight, that apparently wasn’t meant to be. “Okay, that’s it,” she said a moment later, sitting back and throwing her hands up. “I’m done. I can’t do this. I won’t do this.”

Leaning forward, he looked over the table, biting his lip to keep from laughing when he spotted the problem. Once again, she’d cut her paper too short, this time somehow managing to take an oddly-shaped chunk out of one side as well.

“It’s not that bad. I mean, we can fix it.”

Crossing her arms, she shook her head stubbornly. “Nope. I quit. Everybody’s just gonna have to take their gifts unwrapped. And if they don’t like it, they can shove it right up their—”

“All right, all right, I got it.” Shaking his head, he grinned as she fell silent, staring at him defiantly. “You want me to do it?”

She hesitated for a second, and he could see the desire to agree written all over her face. But slowly, she shook her head. “No, it’s not your problem,” she said reluctantly, frowning. “You shouldn’t have to do all the work.”

“I don’t mind.” Again, she hesitated briefly before shaking her head. “Okay, how’s this, then? I’ll make you a deal. We’ll split the work. I’ll do the rest of the wrapping for both of us, and you can…” He paused and picked up the marker off the table, arching an eyebrow as he held it out toward her. “You can write the names on them.”

There was no hesitation this time. “Deal!” Snatching the marker out of his hand, she set it down next to her, then picked up her pile of gifts and dumped them on the table, where he could reach them. “Thanks, Scott. I owe you one.”

“And don’t think I won’t collect.” He shot her a wink, drawing a grin from her as he grabbed the nearest gift and got to work.

Quiet reigned in the room for several minutes then as he efficiently worked his way through the pile, only the nearly-muted TV providing a little background noise. Even with most of his focus on his task, he couldn’t help but smile as he worked, a pleasant warm feeling in his chest. He loved moments like this, where it was just the two of them, doing some little thing together, comfortable in their silence, in each other. It always felt to him like a glimpse at the future, to a time when things wouldn’t be quite so crazy, so violent, when every day could be little more like this, him and her just living their lives together.

“Next year,” she said suddenly, drawing his attention to her, “I think we should go in together on all the gifts. Cut the whole workload in half, y'know?”

He had to take a second before he could respond, as that warmth in his chest surged. She said it so casually, like it was a given that a year from now they’d still be together, like there was no other possibility. And to him, there really wasn’t. Four and a half months they’d been together, and he’d never been more sure of anything, or anybody than he was of her and what they were doing together.

"Yeah,“ he finally managed, swallowing around a sudden lump in his throat as their eyes met, "Yeah, that’s… I’d like that.”

Picking up on the emotion in his voice, she flash him a soft smile, the kind that made his heart beat just a little faster, the kind that told him she knew exactly what he was thinking. Then, abruptly, her smile shifted slightly, morphing into a smirk. “Or I guess we could just get some of those pre-made bows, you know the ones you can just stick on stuff? That would work too. Or gift-bags. That’s what my dad does. He sucks at wrapping stuff too. We have options, is what I mean.”

Unable to stop himself, he let out an amused snort, slowly shaking his head at the teasing light in her eyes as he refocused on the wrapping. They lapsed into comfortable silence again at that point, both eager to get through what was left of the dwindling pile.

It lasted right until he was starting on the final gift, when she suddenly spoke. “So, I have a question.”

He looked up, curious. “Yeah?”

“Well, it’s not really a question. More of an observation.” He nodded, gesturing for her to go on. Reaching down, she tapped a single finger on the pile of wrapped presents. “I couldn’t help but notice none of these are for me.”

Unable pass up the opportunity to get her back, he shrugged and said, “Who says I got you anything?” He held her gaze for a moment, hoping for some reaction, but when she just crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow, he broke and frowned. “Nothing, huh?” She shook her head. “All right, I tried. Your gift was wrapped and hidden away the day I got it.”

She pointed up the stairs. “Hidden in our room?”

“Nope.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Your mom’s room?”

“It’s not in the house. Derek’s keeping it for me.” Grinning, he slowly shook his head. “I know you too well. If I’d kept it here, you would have found it weeks ago.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off, waving a finger in the air between them. “Come on, I know you went looking for it. You have the impulse control of a little kid, Lia, and you’re not nearly as sneaky as you think.” He mimed closing a drawer tight.

She shrugged, completely unashamed. “Hey, I spent a good chunk of my childhood as a coyote, remember? I feel like I’m sort of entitled to live some of the stuff I missed out on now. And part of that is snooping around, trying to find out what I’m getting for Christmas.”

He snorted. “Fair enough.”

She waited a couple beats. “So… no hint?”

“Nope.”

“Come on.”

“No.”

“Come on.”

“No. I want it to be a surprise.”

She was silent for a second, and he didn’t even need to look up to know she was pouting. “Fine,” she finally said, and he did look up then as she crossed her arms and glared at him. “But don’t expect me to give you any hints about your gift either.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Unlike some people, I like waiting until Christmas to find out what I’m getting. And… I’m done.” Letting out a relieved sigh, he handed her the last of the gifts, then leaned back and stretched expansively as she finished it off and set it with the rest.

“Finally,” she muttered, as she joined him on the couch, cuddling into his side as he settled his arm over her shoulders. “How about we wrap as we buy next year?”

“Sounds good to me.” Smiling to himself, he leaned his head against her and just took a second to appreciate the moment, being there with her, alone and happy and bathed in the colourful light coming off the Christmas tree. Then, “What do you wanna do now? More Friends? More food? Maybe we should clean up the mess we just made?”

She scoffed. “No way. That was hard work. We deserve a break.” He chuckled deep in his throat and gave her shoulders a little squeeze. “Actually, I was thinking maybe we could watch some Christmas movies. That’s what I’ve done on Christmas Eve the last two years, and I don’t know.” She shrugged sheepishly, ducking her head. “I guess… I guess it’s kinda like my own tradition now, y'know? And maybe…” She looked at him, a tentative smile on her face, “maybe it could be our tradition.”

There was that warm feeling again. “Yeah,” he said softly, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. “Yeah, that sounds really good. Anything specific you want to see?” She immediately started rattling off a list of movies, some of which he’d never even heard of, and before too long, he had to cut her off, letting out an amused breath as he shook his head. “Hey, you know we can’t be up all night, right? It’s gonna be an early morning and a busy day tomorrow. Plus,” he tacked on, grinning, “if we aren’t asleep, Santa won’t come.”

Whatever reaction he thought his joke was going to get, it certainly wasn’t the one he got.

“Good,” she said, screwing up her face and shuddering. “Santa is super creepy.”

Bemused, he raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Santa,” she repeated. “He’s terrifying.”

He waited a beat, eyes slowly narrowing. “What?”

Pulling back, she turned to face him, and he was shocked by just how serious her expression was. Usually, he could tell when she was joking, either because she couldn’t control her smile, or because he could pick up on the amusement in her scent. But this time, he couldn’t tell. There were nothing in her scent, in her eyes, except for complete sincerity.

“He’s creepy, Scott. Really creepy. He just comes into your house, touches your stuff, drinks your milk, like some kind of criminal.” She shook her head. “Nope, don’t like that.”

He wasn’t really sure how to respond. “It's—I— it’s Santa. Santa. Jolly fat guy, beloved figure all around the world. Y'know, one of the good guys. I don't—he brings presents for kids!”

“Yeah,” she said, nodding, “and that’s great for kids. It’s all whimsical and fun. And then you get older, and you realise it’s just some weird old guy who knows when you’re sleeping, knows everything you do, and can just break into your house like it’s nothing. He could do anything he wanted. What are you gonna do? Call the cops? He’s Santa. They’re not gonna do anything. Like I said, super creepy.”

For a second, he just looked at her, mouth gaping open. “I don't—did you just make Santa Claus sinister?”

“Didn’t take much. Super creepy.”

“But it’s Santa!”

“Yeah, and if he shows up here, I’m gonna kick his ass.”

“I—Malia, he’s not even real. It’s all just a story. He’s just a myth.”

She scoffed. “Yeah, says the werewolf.”

At that, his jaw snapped shut, and he just stared at her, eyes wide. He had no idea how what to say to that. And he couldn’t stop his mind from considering it, because as unbelievable as it was, she wasn’t wrong. If there was one thing he’d learned since being bitten, it was how little he really knew about the world and all the things in it, the things most people assumed were just stories, just legends. For all he knew, the guy was real. Or at least the story was based on some kind of truth. And he couldn’t suppress the involuntary shudder that rocked him then as he considered the possible implications of that.

“I— why did you have to say that?” he finally asked, brow furrowed as he met her gaze. “Now there’s no way I’m sleeping tonight.”

“Don’t worry. If he breaks in, I’ll protect you. And—” Her serious mien abruptly cracked then, a wide grin spreading across her face as amusement burned to life in her eyes. “I’m kidding, Scott,” she said, and he could hear the laughter in her voice. “I don’t believe in Santa, and if he somehow is real, I don’t think he’s evil. I do really wish you could see your face right now though, because it’s hilarious.”

Cheeks flushed slightly from embarrassment, he shook his head, lips twisted in a heavy frown. “Not funny. You’re not funny. You think you are, but you’re not.”

“Hilarious,” she repeated, reaching out to softly pat his cheek. “Come on, admit it. I got you.”

“Nope. Not even gonna dignify that with a response. Instead,” he continued, rising to his feet under her amused gaze, “I’m gonna grab the leftover pizza. You pick a movie and get it started. And we’re not going to talk about Santa for the rest of the night. It’s been a good day. Let’s not ruin it.”

Her laughter followed him as he headed for the kitchen, shaking his head. As quickly as he could, he grabbed the rest of the pizza and a couple sodas, and returned to the living room, where Malia had started a movie and cleared off the coffee table to make room for the food. She looked vaguely preoccupied, but he didn’t think anything of it as he settled back down in his seat and reached for a slice.

“Scott?”

Pausing, he turned his head and found her looking back with an oddly vulnerable look on her face, all the amusement of a few moments ago gone. “Yeah?”

“Today… it really was a good day, right? I mean, this is…” She trailed off, flushing slightly as her eyes slid off somewhere to his left. “Sorry, I just—this kinda felt perfect to me, but I know we didn’t really do anything, and I want you to—”

“Hey, hey.” Straightening up, he turned his body to fully face her and reached out, gently framing her face with both hands. “This was the best day. Really. I wish every day could be like this.” He saw her face light up at that and leaned in for a slow, lingering kiss that left his head swimming and his lips tingling. When he pulled back, looked in her eyes, he could see the emotion there, and felt his heart skip a beat. "I love you.“

"I love you too.”

#scolia #scalia #scoliasecretsanta #malia tate #scott mccall #scolia secret santa #teen wolf #submission #followers #scott x malia

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