Back in high school, if you'd asked Stiles where he'd be living on the eve of his thirtieth birthday, his answer would have been firmly 'Beacon Hills.' Going off to college for a few years was always the plan, but in the end, he was going to return and join the sheriff's department to work alongside his dad. But after everything that occurred to turn the place into a Hellmouth beyond what even episodes of Buffy prepared him for, he's mainly grateful his father retired and headed for a small beach community on the Gulf Coast before Stiles had to make choices between east and west coast.
Even with Beacon Hills off the map, he would have still assumed law enforcement lay in his future, but one thing the program he attended at the FBI taught Stiles was that he was cut out for bureaucracy at all. At least not law enforcement's particular brand of red tape, since he's reliably informed by everyone he knows that hospitals have their own versions of it. Stiles thinks that getting more hands-on lifesaving weights the scale on medicine's side of things.
After the nogitsune, with all the blood the chaos demon-fox left on Stiles' hands, he really needs to be on the side of repairing things more than ever.
When he'd followed Derek and Peter to New York City after Gerard's final defeat, even his own father thought it was due to something between him and Derek. And maybe there had been a glimmer of a possibility from Stiles' end, but Derek made it plain that the only connection he sought from Stiles was that of brotherhood. After so many of Derek's choices had been taken from him where consent was concerned, Stiles was more than content with that decision. Their small pack stays uniquely stable despite the lack of a formal alpha, and over the years, those who just couldn't fit in elsewhere have found sanctuary in the teeming humanity of one of the largest cities in the world.
Much like Beacon Hills, where Derek bought an entire building to glean privacy without complete isolation, they've done the same in Astoria. The building is older, with the character common to construction prior to the second world war, but the six apartments within are plenty for their pack, even if they do end up doubled up as roommates. Some days, he does wish they'd sprung for a building new enough to have an elevator, though. The nogitsune left traces behind that he can appreciate some days, like faster-than-human healing, but one thing it didn't boost was his natural strength level. That's all on him and his time in the gym, which has been sadly lacking lately, and living on the third floor of a walk up is tiring after a long twelve hour shift.
Nudging his door open, Stiles lets his shopping bags thunk to the floor carefully just past the foyer as he hangs his keys on the hook and toes off his shoes.
"Kira? You asleep?" he calls out, keeping his voice soft.
One of the reasons they share an apartment is that working in hospitals gives them a unique perspective on the craziness of their work schedules. The apartment is small enough that if Kira is awake, she'll hear him, and if she isn't awake, he's not going to be obnoxious and wake her. She's at the end of her fourth year of residency now, but it also means she's cycling through two weeks of night rotation. Stiles has worked enough night shifts himself over the years before he gained his nurse practitioner license to feel all the empathy for the herculean task of day sleeping in a noisy city.
"I wish."
It's only long practice of discerning mumbled speech that tells Stiles what Kira actually said as she shuffles out into the combined living room and kitchen while still scrubbing tiredly at her teeth with her toothbrush. Her hair is escaping its braid and she's wearing a t-shirt he's fairly certain she stole from him in the last laundry cycle and bright green slippers shaped like frogs. She leans over the kitchen sink and spits out the toothpaste, still blinking sleepily. The maneuver flashes him a glimpse of shapely backside clad in Spider-man panties. He spares a brief moment to wonder when he became such a mundane part of her life that she stopped bothering with pajama bottoms of any sort before turning to snag the two shopping bags and set them on the tiny kitchen island that doubles as their dining table.
"Are you in the mood for pasta or stir fry tonight?" he asks, sorting the groceries out with his usual precision.
Kira finishes rinsing both her mouth and the toothbrush, and he hears the toothbrush thunk into the cup by the sink. One of them will migrate it back to the bathroom later, he knows. "Did you go to the market after work?"
"Yeah?" Stiles looks up from inspecting the tomatoes to make sure they survived the walk home intact to see Kira frowning at him.
"They deliver, you know. You shouldn't make your day longer and stay on your feet like that."
"You know I don't trust anyone else to pick out our fresh fruit and vegetables," he says, but the concern in her voice makes him smile a little. It isn't that no one else takes care of Stiles these days; he's got nearly a dozen pack members who take pride in bossing him around, after all. But still, he does appreciate the reminder that he's cared for.
"You should at least call Peter or Derek to give you a ride."
Stiles shrugs, because making someone get out into the busy traffic in Astoria just to save him walking eight blocks seems excessive. Kira favors him with an affectionate sigh and reaches for the pot they use for pasta and starts filling it with water, and that's answer enough for what they're doing for supper. It isn't until a few hours later, after they've eaten and tidied away the leftovers and dishes, that he's reminded that it's Kira's day off. Part of that reminder is that when he settles onto the couch, she curls against him, nudging up under his arm and stealing the remote.
"No documentaries tonight. I don't want to have to think through my entertainment."
He cedes control of the television easily, wrapping an arm around her and stifling a yawn as she settles on the new season of the yachting reality show they both watch as a guilty pleasure. The show is mindless enough that he's soon half asleep, one hand idly stroking along Kira's shoulder, arm, and side until he accidentally drifts low enough to brush his palm across the bare skin of her hip. She's warm, skin smooth and silky, and he's tempted to keep it up, especially when she makes a contented sound near a purr and wriggles into the touch. He's alert now, drowsiness dissipating.
As much as he's never really thought of Kira like that, or as more than the best friend who stepped readily into the Scott-shaped hole when Stiles elected to attend college in New York while Scott stayed in California, for the first time he wonders why he's never even considered it. It's not like he's a stranger to acknowledging attraction to his friends and pack. Hell, get enough tequila in him, and he'll even flirt with Peter, although they've firmly declared it to be a verbal sparring exercise and nothing serious.
Kira has always been in a bit of a bubble for him. When she'd arrived in New York halfway through his freshman year at NYU, she'd been a weird mix of fragile as glass and tempered steel from her time with the skinwalkers. It puzzled him at first, that she'd made a beeline specifically from him when she'd graduated from their harsh training and not her parents or Scott's pack in California, but the first time she'd crawled into his bed after a nightmare and spoke of the feeling of lightning in her veins, he'd understood. She'd needed another kitsune, one who wasn't her estranged mother, and there's enough fox still soaked into his soul that he qualifies. It took her a year to recover enough to have a normal life, to attend college, and to finally sleep through the night in her own bed.
That was a decade ago, and he wonders at how long his mind has listed her as off limits, not because she once dated Scott, but because of those nights where she needed his darkness to keep her own at bay. Neither of them have dated in all the time they've been in New York, spending all their time with the pack or each other when they weren't dealing with work or school. If he thinks about their daily life, and how often they settle together just like this after meals they've cooked together, Stiles realizes something he should have months ago. Maybe even longer than that.
"Kira?"
She hums softly, but at a pat on her hip, she tips her head from where it's tucked under his chin so she can look up at him. "Stiles?"
There's a certain tone to how she says his name that reminds him far more of Peter or Jackson, a level of snark he's definitely not used to hearing from Kira.
"How long have we been a couple without me actually being aware we're a couple?"
"Depends on who you ask. Peter says we were inevitable idiots from the moment I came to New York. The others who've cared to mention it think it started when we chose to share the apartment after we bought the building." She sits up, dislodging his hand, but instead of moving away, she flips so that her legs are draped over one of his thighs, resting her bare feet against the other. Smiling brightly at him, she reaches up to cup her hand along his jaw.
"And how long has it been for you?"
"Not so long as any of them. Perhaps Peter is right about us being oblivious but destined. But for me, it was waking up the morning of my Step 3 exam to find you swooping in with hot tea and my favorite breakfast after you'd given up all your free time for three weeks straight to help me study. I knew then I was absolutely head over heels for you."
The mental math of when Kira passed her licensing exam at the end of her first year of residency makes Stiles choke just a bit. "That was over two years ago, Kira! Why didn't you say anything?"
The serene smile she gives him as she gently caresses his face makes his heart contract in a good way. "At first, I was selfish. I knew you loved me, maybe were even in love with me too, and what we had was too precious to risk changing. Later, I decided that either you'd catch up to me or you wouldn't, and I was happy with it either way."
"What if I'd found someone else?" The idea of it is a little horrifying, that he might have broken Kira's heart and never had a clue.
"Oh, Stiles. When have you ever given someone up easily once they're yours?"
The sweet confidence in Kira's statement makes Stiles blink, and he supposes she's right. He hasn't looked at anyone outside the pack in so many years that he supposes it was inevitable that when he did take a step towards a relationship, it would be within the pack. Kira has far more faith and patience than Stiles himself, but then again, she's always had a more generous nature than anyone he's ever known. He tilts his head and kisses her palm, watching as she let her eyes slide close, her expression delighted.
He can't resist then, knowing he's welcome, and pulls her fully into his lap, leaning in for a kiss that starts sweet but turns into heated enthusiasm. One kiss leads to the next, and by the time they stop to catch their breath, he laughs softly.
"We could have been doing this for years."
Kira giggles at the pout he adopts before kissing it away. "I'm sure we have decades ahead of us to explore everything that lies between us."
Considering how long Kira's lifespan will certainly be, and the fact that Stiles' own is likely extended since his body is nogitsune-made and no longer truly human, she's right about all the time that stretches before him. At times, he's considered that infinity and had nightmares of outliving everyone he loves, and even now, he knows that much of that will come to pass. But here in his arms is the one person who can match him for all the years that he has.
For the first time, forever feels like a promise and not a nightmare.