Malia's kiss is achingly tender, and the fact that she's purposefully being so gentle with him, even after all that he's done utterly breaks him. Hot tears spill down Stiles' cheeks and he dips his chin, breaking the kiss to brush the back of his arm across his eyes. Embarrassed he covers his face with his hand, his shoulders shaking as he tries to get it together. But his body won't have it. He's exhausted from holding it all in, all the lies, the fear, anger and self-loathing. Stiles just can't anymore.

After a few seconds, Malia steps into him, one hand cupping his cheek, while her other gently tugs his hand away from his eyes. Her eyes are big with concern, Stiles looks down and away, but Malia is undeterred. She takes his face in her hands, her thumbs stroking his cheeks, wiping his tears away as they fall.

"S-sorry," Stiles sputters, his throat tightening.

Malia shakes her head at him, "Shh, it's okay, it's okay."

Stiles is shaking, trying to gain control of himself, but he can't. He doubles-over sobbing, his hands grasping his knees. Malia's hand is on his back trying to soothe him. He can't hold it back any longer. Stiles finally crumples, sinking onto the stair. He draws his knees up and buries his face in his arms as he lets it all out. Malia follows him. He can feel the warmth of her pressed along his side, the slow drag of her fingers through his hair, the heat of her lips as she presses a kiss to shoulder through his shirt.

"Wha-t's my d-dad gonna thi-think of m-me?" he sputters into his arms.

Malia gently lifts his head, "Hey, your dad loves you more than anything. You know that."

He does. But it's the look of devastating disappointment on his father's face that he's dreading more than anything. "H-how do I tell him s-something like this?"

"I have no idea," she says as she grasps his hand, "But I know you won't be alone," she says as she squeezes his hand. A fresh tear falls down his cheek and Malia leans in kissing it away, she trails kisses along his cheek before tucking her face into the crook of his neck and hugging him close. Stiles grips onto Malia tightly and Malia kisses him just below his ear, before burrowing her face back into the crook of his neck. They stay like that for a long time, with nothing but the slow rise and fall of her chest against his, her soothing hands wandering his back. "I love you so much, Mal," he whispers against her cheek. He feels so warm, so safe, he's almost lulled to sleep by the time Malia pulls away.

She stands up and dangles her fingers out to him, "C'mon," she coaxes, and Stiles takes her hand. Malia pulls him to his feet and leads him up the stairs and to her bedroom.

She stops in the middle of the room and kisses him. This kiss is so different from those frantic, hungry kisses they had shared on the stairs earlier. This kiss was slow, drugging, Stiles feels like he could let this kiss go on forever and it still wouldn't be long enough. All too soon she pulls away and Stiles tries to chase her mouth. Malia grins impishly and starts unbuttoning his shirt in a cool, collected fashion, which Stiles thinks is rather unfair considering he's still a bit dizzy from that kiss. Then she slides the plaid shirt off his shoulders and slips away with his shirt. Stiles cocks an eyebrow, confused at first before he watches her saunter over to her closet and disappear inside. He lets out a huff of laughter after realizing what she was up to. Stiles shakes his head and sinks onto the corner of her bed grinning to himself.

"I'm never getting that shirt back, am I?" He says, unable to hold back his smile.

"Nope!" She calls from inside the closet. Stiles forgets how to breathe when she steps back out wearing his plaid shirt and not much else. "But," she says in a teasing voice as she saunters over to him and slips into his lap, "If you ask real nice, I might let you take it off me every once and a while."

Stiles blushes, "I—uh," he says clearing his throat, "I can work with that." Malia leans forward pushing Stiles down on her bed.

As she hovers over him Stiles reaches up and brushes his thumb down her cheek, tenderly, "I love you," he whispers.

Malia grins, "I know," she whispers back fondly before giving his thumb a little nip.