Malia rolled over on her side of the bed, stretching out her limbs and yawning. She hadn’t slept a wink of course, and she knew she couldn’t now that she was the only one on watch. She looked over at Stiles for about the billionth time, sighing worriedly at his stillness. He’d pull through, she knew he would. He had to. At least, that’s what Scott had insisted.
Bored, Malia undid the braid in her hair and started braiding it again just so she’d have something to do. But then it turned out really messy and she got frustrated and just let it hang down. She was about to use the pen on Stiles’ nightstand to start drawing on the back of her hand, when she heard a stirring next to her. She snapped to attention, turning an extremely groggy but awake Stiles over onto his back so she could look at him.
"Stiles? Stiles! You’re up. Oh my god, you’re up. You’re okay. You’re alive, you did it, you’re okay."