Recondite {Malia Tate}

5: Chicken Lomein and TKO's.

"Can I come?"

"I don't think that'd be a good idea." Charlie shook his head, biting his lip out of habit, the skin beneath his teeth drying and cracking.

Malia growled, "What if he loses control?"

Charlie sighed, keeping his eyes on the road ahead of him as he continued his drive to Scott's house, "He won't. Scott's gonna help him."

"But what if he does, Charlie?" Malia stressed, "What if he hurts you and I'm not there?"

Charlie felt his shoulders fall, "Malia, I'm a man. I can protect myself."  He huffed, a sudden confidence fueling him.

Malia paused, before she scoffed, "No, you can't. Charlie, you need me. I don't want you to get hurt."

And just like that Charlie's confidence deflated like a popped balloon; fast and all at once. Sure, he liked Malia, a lot, but he was a boy. Boys can protect themselves. They're supposed to protect the girls. Charlie knew it sounded like he was anti feminist, but he didn't mean to be; he just thought it was what men were made for; protection. But he knew Malia was a girl that surpassed the damsel in distress stereotype, and that's what terrorized him the most.

He didn't like the thought of Malia putting herself in danger so that he could have a few more seconds of time to escape. Charlie was tired of being the boy in the pack. He wanted to be a man, but with his lack of claws and fangs and fighting skills, he couldn't be everything he desired. It was out of his grasp, much like his confidence balloon after it was popped.

Charlie suddenly heard Malis last sentence, "I don't want you getting hurt."

Charlie blushed at the thought of Malia looking into his eyes as she said this. Charlie always blushed when he made eye contact; he couldn't help it, except when he talked to his friends. It was a nervous habit he had. The last time Charlie made eye contact with someone he barely knew, he got a lump in his throat and turned away to puke onto the heated concrete he stood on.  Needless to say he disliked looking into another's eyes.

"Charlie? Charlie? Charlie, are you going to answer me, or keep zoning out?" Malia sighed.

Charlie snapped from his daze, his eyes scanning the road as he continued his drive, mere seconds away from turning into the McCall's familiar driveway.

"Uh, u-um, I'll be fine, Malia. Sorry, but I, uh, I gotta go." He stumbled, "I'll see you when I get home tonight."

He ended the call and flushed a brilliant red, a thousand rubies staining his cheeks like little jewels of blood to show his sudden embarrassment. He just told his crush that he'd see her at his house. At night. And he left the conversation like that. Was he daring, or dumb?

"Charlie, stop!" A sudden voice screeched.

Charlie cried out as he slammed on his brakes, his body slinging against the seatbelt and falling back against his car seat. He breathed in heavily panicked breaths, seeing Stiles and Derek standing in front of his car, wide eyed expressions paling their faces. Charlie scrambled from the car with his backpacks, apologizing furiously as they walked to the front door.

"I'm seriously sorry, you guys." Charlie told them sincerely, clutching his books to his chest.

"Dude, it's fine." Stiles said, using his key to unlock the second door, "You didn't hit us, which is a plus."

"But you weren't paying attention while you were driving." Derek glared at him, "You could have killed us."

Stiles pushed Derek ahead of him as he opened the front door, a very darkly lit room meeting his eyes, "We're going to wait here for Scott. We're going to sit quietly. And we're not going to call or talk to anyone." Stiles immediately told Derek.