I'll Be Your Batman

Chapter 22: Back To The Way Things Used To Be

The next morning I wake up peacefully for three reasons. One, I am finally back at the house I grew up in, the house I belong in. Two, I am laying next to my mate, the one I never wanted to be apart from. And three, I wake up naturally. Not to an alarm clock, not to anyone waking me up, or worse, Laura dumping water on me.

For the first time in a long time, I wake up with a smile.

Smiling down at my beautiful mate, I see his eyes flutter before he opens them.

He smiles at me, almost seeming relieved.

"Guess that wasn't just a dream." His voice is low and scratchy, and it only makes me smile brighter.

"No, guess it wasn't."

I pull him closer and bury my head in his neck, breathing him in.

"What time is it?" He purrs.

I just mumble, before I actually lift my head up and look.

"9:32."

Stiles laughs. "We should probably get up."

"If we have to." I yawn, scratching the scruff on my face.

"You know that's kind of cute."

"What is?"

"The scruff." He pets my face.

"Maybe I'll keep in, just for you." I kiss his cheek, before getting up and going to my closet to grab a t-shirt. I go to grab one of mine for Stiles, when I see he already has some there. Even though he has his own clothes, I throw him one of my shirts.

"I have my own clothes."

"I know, but I like you in mine."

Stiles puts on the t-shirt, which doesn't seem to swallow his body as it used to, and we head downstairs.

"Good morning boys." My father says, putting down the paper.

"Morning." I grumble.

I go to the kitchen, and rummage through the cabinets for something to eat, but can't find anything. I sigh and shut the cabinet, then turn towards Stiles.

"Lets go out. There's nothing to eat."

Stiles nods and we head back upstairs. Normally I would tell Stiles to call his father, but I wasn't really sure about the situation, considering that Stiles had been living here evidently.

I grab my phone and pause.

"Your father doesn't know I'm back."

Stiles swallows and doesn't meet my gaze.

"No."

"I honestly am having a hard time believing he just let you stay here."

"He didn't." Stiles grips his fist hard, turning his knuckles white.

"I made him. He wanted me to stay there, forget about you, he doesn't know how it is and I. . . we got in a big fight. I didn't want to be there and he was angry with me too, so I came here."

I was surprised. Surprised at Stiles for refusing his father, and surprised that Stiles came here.

"How long have you been here?"

"Four months."

"Jesus." I mumble, running a hand through my hair.

"I never wanted you to have a fight with your father."

Stiles shrugs. "Wasn't your fault. He's been. . . different since mom passed away, which I guess is to be expected."

"What do you mean different?" I take a seat on the bed, but Stiles never joins me.