Unsteady | Sterek

Thirty Two: Renegades, renegades

Last Chapter!

Stiles looks at his childhood home and feels like he's suffocating.

Memories of this house overlap. He remembers this front door, remembers it slamming shut and opening gently. He remembers knocking on that door and cowering by it. He remembers opening it and thinking that he's home.

He looks at the front door now and thinks that when it closes behind him, it'll never let him out again.

"Dad?" He calls into the house. His father should be home. Stiles had checked his work. "Can we talk?"

His voice sounds strange in his ears and he thinks maybe the memories in the air are trying to stifle him, trying to smother his words in hopes of smothering him too. He shouldn't have come here. He shouldn't have left.

"Stiles." His father appears by the stairs, looking weary and old. "You came home."

There's relief in his creaky voice. There's something else too, but Stiles doesn't want to ruin what hasn't even started. "You said I could come home anytime."

His dad smiled bitterly. "Stiles, we both know this ain't your home anymore."

Stiles just blinks at him because that implies that Stiles doesn't have a home at all. "I came home," he says, and it's all he can say because he's just spotted the glass of whiskey in his dad's hand.

John Stilinski is a kind man, a fair man. Stiles thinks he deserves a better son, someone who won't ruin his life. "Stiles," John says tiredly. "Please just tell me the truth."

And Stiles can't keep lying anymore. He can't keep building this wall between him and his family. He can't do this anymore.

So he sits his dad down, and he tells his dad everything.

He explains what it was like to be the Nogitsune, he explains how lost he felt. He explains the witches and Markus and the deaths. He talks through his pain and his grief and his guilt, and he cries and John cries and for once, there are no secrets between them. For once, they are both vulnerable.

For once, there is no fear or hesitation in his father's eyes as Stiles launches himself at the man and hugs hm so tightly he can't breathe.

"I love you," he breathes, holding on for dear life because there had been a time where Stiles had thought he'd never hug his dad ever again. "I'm so sorry."

His dad just sighs and holds him like he used to when Stiles was a little kid. "Oh Stiles," he murmurs. "My brave, strong son. I'm so proud of you."

I'm so proud of you. Stiles feels his heart rate pick up, feels a lightness fill his body until he feels like he can float. In fact, when he looks at his hands, they're glowing. A soft, golden glow.

His Dad opens his mouth, but Stiles beats him to it. "Well this is new."

-

The Jeep rumbles to a halt in front of the building and Stiles stares up at the loft in nervous anticipation. His father had convinced him to come back, to admit everything to Derek.

And he'd been waiting for the push, he realised. He'd been waiting for someone to tell him it was okay, been waiting for a safety net before he'd made the jump. Now he was falling. Falling and falling into this well filled with love.

When he gets out of the car, he takes a deep breath and wants to cry.

It's a strange urge that he ignores, and he ventures up to the loft, to Derek and Isaac and Peter, and each step feels heavier than the last. Finally, he comes face to face with the door and he stares at it, just...looks, until he knows what he's doing.

The door creaks open and Isaac looks out at him with wide eyes. "I talked to Scott," he says quietly. "Stiles, I'm sorry."

But Stiles grins so widely it hurts his cheeks. "Everything's okay," he says brightly, and it's true. Isaac frowns slightly, but there's less tension on his face now, less...wrinkles. "Is Derek here?"

Isaac smiles and opens the door wider. "He's waiting for you."

Indeed he is, sitting by the window. His shoulders are stiff, his muscles tense. Stiles hates to see him like this, hates that he's the one who made this happen. Because he was a blind fool. Peter had been right.

"Hey SourWolf," he says casually, ignoring his heart as it hammers away in his chest. He walks up to his werewolf, and puts a hand on his shoulder. "I'm back. You miss me?"

Derek stays quiet.

"I missed you!" Peter shouts from the kitchen.

"Shut up Peter!" Stiles shouts back. He focuses his attention on Derek again, sighs when the werewolf does nothing but take another breath. "Look," he says quietly. "I was a dick. I left and I shouldn't have but I was so scared of being a burden. I was so scared of myself, of everything that's happened. and you know what going back to that house taught me?"

Derek doesn't answer.

Stiles continues anyway. "It taught me to stop being afraid. It taught me that home is where the heart is. It taught me that my heart is here, with you,and that you're my home."

And then stiles kisses him.

It's short and messy and really just a rush of adrenaline and sloppy skin contact, but something clicks in Stiles chest and he feels complete for the first time in his life. Yes, his home is here, with Derek.

"Why did you come back?" Derek asks hoarsely and Stiles hates to hear the pain in his voice.

"Because SillyWolf," he says gently. "I wanted to come home."

The words seem to break the spell holding Derek in place, and he jumped to his feet, grabs Stiles by the face, and kisses him until there are stars in the room. Stiles sighs, fingers travelling up to Derek's hair as he feels the desperation in the kiss, the long-hidden feelings and fears being poured into this moment.

"I love you Derek," he gasps.

Derek stops kissing him, rests his forehead against Stiles. "I love you too."

"That was gross," Peter drawls. "But it's amusing to watch Stiles become a glowworm."

Stiles groans as his skin lights up again. "I think I need to see Deaton."

Derek grins cheekily and pecks his lips again. "He can wait his turn. I for one, have had enough of waiting."

Yes, Stiles thought as he was swept into another searing kiss. He was finally home.

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