Don't do it, Kit. Don't, don't, don't -

Kit swung into his lap and pressed their mouths together.

Charlie's long, elegant fingers pressed against his waist, warm and splayed, through the thin, washed-out cotton of his T-shirt.

A part of Kit was screaming at him, yelling –

This is the kind of reckless stupidity that you were supposed to stop giving in to! I thought you'd matured, c'mon, we can do better...

But some responses were so deeply rooted, and he'd acted on impulse.

So he held onto the other man and melted into his warmth, wanting his gentleness to soothe his own jagged edges, wanting his soft hands to hold him close.

Charlie pushed him back, but not far. Kit paused, holding still, unsure of what reaction would hurt him more - rejection or reciprocation.

He closed his eyes. 

Warm lapful before Charles knew what was happening, Kit's hazel eyes close and searing, soft insistent lips moving against his, hot tongue pressing in between them, strong slim legs straddling his lap, pushing closer.

It was a way Kit had never touched him before.

And Charles was so surprised that for a moment he did nothing, frozen.

Then he wrapped his hands gently around the young man's upper arms and pushed. He tried to pry him away and found that he couldn't - Kit's thin wrists were immovable, so strong. How was it even possible? 

When the boy's eyes closed, Charles whimpered, and tilted his head back. 

Their mouths made a wet sound coming apart. Kit didn't fight it, sitting back, still astride him. He was panting quietly, as if he'd been running, eyes opening again.

Was that - fear in them? Panic, instead of the defiant determination his uncle was used to seeing there?

The kiss had felt half like a confrontation, a stand-off, a test. 

And half like a surrender.

Because Kit's thighs still bracketed his hips, his forearms still rested on his shoulders, wound around his neck in a loose embrace. And his eyes - large and luminous, identical to Charles's own, stared into his.

"You can have anything you want from me," he said with very little inflection - not like a declaration, not an offering - just a stated fact.

A chill ran up the older man's spine at the words. They were the kind a child might offer up innocently, without fully understanding what what the promise entailed.

Charles himself had said things like that - anything you want - without truly meaning them. Not anything. Not really.

But Kit understood. 

His nephew knew exactly what he was saying. Though he was still young in many ways, in that moment, Kit's eyes looked ancient. Not mocking or guarded but level, hiding nothing, refusing to shy away.

Charles had seen him shape-shift into a terrifying beast and lunge for Hunter's throat, throw a bottle at his window. Had seen him drink himself into unconsciousness. Bandage deep cuts with his own hands instead of crying for help. 

And he'd kissed Charles, after telling him - 

What would you pay, give up, or do to be worthy of love?

He knew what he was offering.

The blond swallowed, head spinning to process the situation he was in, how Kit was stronger than him, but still so small, so desperate. He shied away instinctively from the the responsibility the offer entailed... Then he met Kit's searing gaze and held it.

Gently, Charles raised his arms again and this time the werewolf let him, releasing his jumper. Holding onto his waist, Charles exhaled shakily. 

He'd never said what he was about to, never tried to convey this mess of emotions, but he had to, oh, had to try - needed to communicate - couldn't let there be a misunderstanding here -

"What I want from you," he breathed, voice trembling,

"Is to be your family. To be your support the way you are mine. Your friend the way you are mine. I want you to be alive, independent, healthy, and as happy as anyone can ever hope to be.

"I want you to be yourself. And have everything good in this world."

His eyes shone with unshed tears as he reached up to cup the boy's face gently in his palms, trying to convey how very much he meant it.

"I just want you to be free. You don't have to give me anything. I know you've done a lot for me...but from now on I'm going to try to take care of myself. So please don't do that."

He saw Kit mouthing his words silently - no. It was almost the same words, but not quite. 

You deserve everything good in this life...

"You won't need me," the little wolf said.

It was as if the words were being torn out of him. Kit looked as desperate and vulnerable as the other man had ever seen him, his usually decisive movements jagged, hesitant - a hand in his hair, gaze flickering, wild, the other hand twisted in the fabric of Charles's jumper, chest heaving.

"You won't need me any more. If you've got him now, you won't - Amos will get you home safe. Watch out for you, make you happy and you won't want me for anything - "

Charles hugged him, fiercely. It was an impulse, instinctive, the need to hold him close. Pressed  together, he could feel the boy's heart hammer like a little bird beating it's wings against a cage, desperately seeking escape.

He drew back to look into Kit's eyes.

"I'll always need you," he whispered, words ragged. "I'll always want you. Forever. Because I love you." 

I love you.

"Not to look after me. And not for sex, never for anything like that. I'm dating Amos, but you are my family, and you always will be."

Each drew a fragile, unsteady breath, mirrors of each other, struggling to stay upright, be honest, face each other instead of crossing their fingers behind their back and turning away.

"I love you."

Two pairs of hazel eye locked onto each other, anchors in a stormy ocean.

"So, so much. It nearly killed me to see you hurt and bleeding. I care about you so much."

He kept repeating those words, praying they would sink in, that Kit would believe him - yet desperately aware that they were only words. Charles would need years to prove that his assurances were true, that he meant them.

"But I don't want - I'll never want - anything in return. It's unconditional. And you don't want - I know you don't really want - "

His word failed him, stuttering to a stop. The younger man was staring at him, open, defences completely down. Charles took a deep breath. 

"I love you. Not for sex. Not for being Kitty's son. Just for being you."

Kit made a small, wounded sound.

"We're related. But we're family because we choose to be. And I would choose you...every time."

Very gently this time, Charles hugged him, folding him into his chest. His nephew stiffened for a second and then relaxed, allowing himself to be held. He tucked his face into the hollow of Charles's neck and the blond rested his chin on top of Kit's dark curls.

He held onto him tighter, felt the bones of his shoulder blades, his ribs, deceptively frail.

"I'll never, ever leave you. I'll never, ever send you away. Your home is with me and even when you grow older and move out you'll always have a place with me should you want it. No matter what."

Charles felt the shuddering breath the teenager drew in, face still buried in his neck, nose tip cold, eyelashes brushing his skin.

"I'm not leaving. And I'll always need you."

"...When you said I shouldn't worry about you any more, that I had to take care of myself - I don't know, I just - " Kit mumbled. 

Swallowing, Charles held him tighter.

"You've been there for me," he said. His heart was pounding - he'd never been good at putting words on his feelings, but he had been practicing, had been trying. 

I have to try now, for him.

"Looked after me, been honest, been...the closest thing to a true friend I've ever had and just the thought of not seeing you every day - of not hearing your snarky comments or your laugh - the real one, not that cruel one you do that doesn't reach your eyes -

"Of just not having you around any more, it's enough to make me feel like - " He grasped for the words, trying to make Kit understand, 

"Like the ground is falling away from under my feet, like I'm standing on ice and it's cracking, freezing water waiting to swallow me, or on the edge of a cliff maybe, sick to my stomach at the thought of falling and I - I just can't - God, Kit..."

Licking his lips nervously, he forged on. Charles needed to be entirely transparent. No more turning away. No more secrets or half-truths. 

"You don't know. I didn't know how empty my life was before you.

"Before a real friend, before family, before trust and love... I thought I had everything. My job, my own place, Hunter...But it was so empty. I was so anxious. I know it's a void in me too, and not something another person can just come along and fill. I need to work on...feeling better about myself."

The teen pressed closer, not quite nuzzling, but enough to make the blond's arms tighten around him. He felt a barely-there tremor pass though the slight body in his embrace. 

"Kit, when I adopted you, I thought it would be hard, and I thought that I could help you. 

"But I never knew how alone I was with no-one fighting for me... Or how weak I was, with no-one to fight for.

"You have brought something wonderful into my life - family, the good kind, the supporting kind - and you helped me from the start. I can't imagine my life without you. You are worth becoming a better person for - and I hope I can become one. Be the uncle and guardian you deserve. Be on your side always, whether we agree or not. Even when we fight."

He drew in a deep shuddering breath. 

"There's nothing you ever have to do to make me love you. There's nothing you could ever do to make me stop. If you're a werewolf, if you're an addict, even if you're a bit of a - a jerk sometimes - "

Kit laughed, a weak chuckle into the crook of his neck.

"- You never have to earn my affection. It's yours. I only meant that it's unfair how much I've relied on you, and you deserve better. You're still my favourite relative."

"Your only relative."

"My only family. If you'll truly have me?"

My only family.

"I... I love you too," Kit admitted in the faintest whisper. He was curled up with his face pressed into Charlie's shoulder, still on his lap, holding onto him like a koala bear. 

He couldn't look at him when he said it - it felt like a terrible confession. Not because it was wrong, but because of how vulnerable it left him. And yet at the same time the words fell from his lips, he felt a weight lift off his chest.

If he wanted, Charlie could use these three small words, this one terrible truth, to make him do almost anything.

I just can't love by halves.

Kit would do it, if Charlie asked - he would do anything.

Because the other man was everything to him now - hope, family, future, love. All of those things, unequivocally tied to his uncle, inseparable. 

"I'm sorry..." he whispered. 

"No, no - you - you're okay. You're good like this." Charlie held him even tighter, refusing to let go. Wanting to reassure them both.

"Maybe some people are just..." the boy swallowed, "Broken."

"You're not! I mean, maybe. Maybe some people are. Or maybe no-one ever truly is. But either way - you're not. And...and I think, there's nothing so broken it's can't be mended."

"Not like it was."

"No, but...good enough?"

"Jesus, you're bad at this." Kit laughed again, a soft huff onto his skin. 

"Sorry."

"Naw, it's okay. You're good."

"I-I love you so much, though."

"How many people have you said that to?"

"...Two, before you. You?"

"One. Before you." The boy sighed. 

"You're my family too, Charlie. I used to think you were a spineless drunk but now, I want...you to be my family. No-one else."

His uncle smiled, letting go to lean back and look up at him, gently smoothing the ruffled, frizzy curls out of his face.

Kit touched his cheek lightly. "You really do cry for nothing."

But he was smiling, crooked and soft, with so much fondness Charlie's eyes blurred again, and more tears of happiness slid down his cheeks. 

"I'll be here for you. Just as you said you would for me. I won't leave you alone, to fend for yourself - not for Amos, not for anyone. I'll be here. Forever."

The teen barked a laugh - an anguished, strangled sound. "No-one can promise that."

"No, you're right. But - But I'll try. Please, let me fight for you. Fight for myself. To be a good guardian, free of my addiction. A better person."

"You're one of the best people I know." The boy snorted. "Though I suppose that says more about the company I keep."

"It's settled then," Charlie said, eyes wide and earnest, a smile playing over his small, petal-pink mouth. 

"We'll always be family - by blood and by choice. It's a deal."

And he held out his hand to Kit who looked incredulous and then raised a dark eyebrow, one corner of his mouth tugging up. 

His uncle held up his other hand beside his face, fingers spread out and definitely, demonstrably not crossed. Smiling crookedly, Kit copied him.

"New deal. Let's be there for each other forever."

They shook on it.

After the almost-formal handshake, Charles sighed, shifting.

"Can you get off now, please?" he asked. 

His nephew looked at him.

The older man winced. "Don't - "

"Naw, don't worry - too easy. Saying please, huh?" he teased him. Charles smiled ruefully, relieved to Kit composed enough to needle him.

"Pretty please with a cherry on top?" he ventured. 

"Pwetty pwease wif a chewry on twop..."

"Oh, stop it, you scoundrel."

"Scoundrel? What am I, a mid-century urchin?"

"An impossibly dear impossible rapscallion."

That startled a laugh out of the boy, who quickly masked it with another huff.

Kit climbed off his lap and sat beside him on the couch, legs tucked in under him and leaning his head on one arm, unconsciously cute in a way that made Charles smile again. 

"I thought," he said, glancing away, "that if you started dating him - you wouldn't need me to buy groceries or watch your back or tell you when you're being a fucking idiot. You'll wish I weren't here, like you did when I first moved in."

The words were delivered in a calm, resigned tone.

"I - "

"Don't think I didn't notice. It was obvious. And I didn't care, then, anyway."

"But now you do?"

"...My stupid, soft heart cares. Always got me into trouble."

"You really care? You trust me?"

"No further than I can throw you."

"You like being around me?"

"I don't hate it."

"You admit that we're family."

"I suppose I must."

"And you loooove me..." Charles teased, tickling his waist with one long index finger, but gently enough that it became only the faintest touch. 

"Yes, I love you, idiot."

The blond couldn't help the wide, joyous smile that split his face at the words, and he pulled Kit into another tight, quick hug.

"Hey, knock it off already - "

"I love you too. You're my favourite nephew."

"What an achievement." Kit carded his fingers through the chemist's hair, smoothing it back from his face with an indulgent, fond smile of his own. 

"There's nothing I wouldn't do for you," Charles said, his throat tight.

"Yeah. Same."

The blond groaned. "But there's still so much to figure out..."

Kit gripped his hand. "We'll figure it out."

"I'm worried I might fail you again, no matter how I try..."

"We can fail better," the werewolf assured him. "Fail together."

Charles felt his vision blur again, pale lashes damp with more tears. They sat side by side and his arm rested against a thin ribcage, feeling the bones there underneath the tee and open hoodie, seeing the way the younger man held his hand, his grip steadying. 

Kit, however, wasn't crying, and had stopped trembling. He tipped his uncle's glasses up and gently wiped away the tears with the sleeve of his hoodie. Charles hummed, resting his cheek on top of the teenager's head, where it was leaning lightly against his shoulder.

"No more secrets?" he asked softly.

The scent floating through the air around them was something distinctly Charlie - bamboo shampoo and lingering hints of sweet alcohol and cream, clean wool jumpers and leather shoes, his floral scented hand cream, coffee and milk... 

The werewolf drew in a deep breath and sighed softly before he caught himself, feeling self-conscious. 

So he leaned more towards Charlie and buried his face in his shoulder, feeling a slender arm come up around him to keep him there. 

"No more secrets ever," Kit promised him.

He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of them together, mixed up, close. Memorising the combination and thinking about what it meant to him. 

Home.