Sterek One-Shots (Book 2)

Identify My Identity.

TW: Internalised Homophobia, underage drinking/drunkenness, mild implied panic attack. 

"You're not gay." Noah looked over his son's clothing, "Not dressed like that." His tone, his sneer, his eyes.

Stiles had tried so hard, so very hard to be a normal kid for his dad. He'd tried to fit in, he really had, but he couldn't. Nor could understand how people managed to keep up with the turning of the world, not when he had so much baggage to carry around, the weight of which held him in place.

He had tried, for his dad, because his dad had been through enough as it was, Stiles had put him through enough. But it was a facade that never lasted, that never stuck.

His dad had seemed fine with it, and Stiles could only hope that it was real. He hoped and hoped and hoped, right until he'd found out where his dad's limit was.

"You're not gay."

Stiles had spluttered at those words, spat out broken sentences, gasped, because that was all he could do. Those three words and he finally understood why his dad was so patient with him. He could handle a son that didn't fit in, he could handle a son that couldn't hold his tongue or sit still or write an essay without getting off-topic, just so long as he wasn't gay.

Just so long as he could keep his eyes on girls. Keep his sight set straight.

"You're not gay."

They were simple words, unassuming, maybe meaningless to anyone else, he knew that. Maybe his dad hadn't meant for him to take it to heart, just a throw away line to get Stiles to stop lying for once. But that was precisely the point; he didn't think what he said then would matter because there was just no way in hell that Stiles Stilinski could be gay on top of everything else. There was no way that the Sheriff's kid would like anything other than girls.

It just wasn't possible.

Maybe those words had meant nothing to Noah, but they were so much more, so much deeper: "You can't be gay", "My kid isn't gay", "He isn't, he wouldn't, he couldn't". They sounded like a promise to himself, to Claudia; their son would not turn out gay, their son would have at least one normal thing about him.

So what if he can't listen, so what if he was too loud, so what if he always seemed to be at the centre of all the chaos in town, so long as he wasn't gay on top of it all.

"You're not gay."

It wasn't a question, it wasn't open for discussion, Stiles could not be gay. It was a complete dismissal of part of him, it was a denial of his ability to love. His dad, his only parent, the man who was supposed to accept him wholeheartedly, unconditionally, had set a boundary. This single boundary. A harsh, solid wall that cut him off from loving boys, stopped him from being able to own this part of his identity; he could no longer touch it, no longer reach for it or hold it, it was off-limits.

His patient, kind, caring dad, his dad who had seen everything and more in his line of work, his dad who knew of the struggles, would've seen scenes worse than Stiles could ever imagine, outside of clubs like that one on that night. All because of the person they loved. And he had stood there, in their place, and told Stiles that it was not something he could stand for. His son would not be gay.

His son would find a wife, as Noah had, and they would not be condemned for their love, it would be whole, it would be pure, unlike the painful, tainted love he had seen outside that bar on that night. On nights prior.