Melissa was everything that Chris had ever needed. They both knew each other inside and out, not needing real words most of the time to communicate. Love meant more to them than any misunderstanding.
Headcanons under the cut.
Melissa loves Chris so much, but neither of them wait up at night for the other if they get caught up with work, they know how it is and would rather get good sleep than stay up worrying
Chris loves to sit on the couch with Melissa; he thinks it's sweet to just be domestic with her. Chris is a documentary or drama show kind of TV watcher, and Melissa loves soap operas or telenovellas
Chris is a pretty good chef, but nothing will ever beat Melissa's home-cooked meals
They both adore little moments of physical connection, just handholding or quick kisses, adjusting the other's clothes or hair
Melissa loves a tight hug, something that squeezes her tightly. Both her son and her partner give excellent hugs that help Melissa keep herself together on a bad day
Chris teaches Melissa how to shoot a gun to protect herself if needed. Melissa finds it sort of funny, but takes the training seriously, though she much prefers a taser
The two of them make it mandatory for family dinner nights at least once a week. Anyone who is in town is very welcome, and Chris and Melissa welcome any member of the pack as part of their family
Chris/Melissa + “I’ve never seen tree ornaments like that before.” (Because they’re ideal for domestic shenanigans + merging households)
Post-whatever, PG-ish, also on ao3.
Apparently there’s no time like the holidays to deal with the… nuances of moving in with a new partner.
Technically, Melissa is doing this on easy mode. The majority of Chris’s stuff remains in either the apartment he still keeps or several storage units, exact number and location undisclosed for now but this is the kind of thing one has to accept when one gets involved with someone who has that kind of life. His imposition on the house has consisted of two dresser drawers, a minimal amount of bathroom debris, and a gun safe in the garage. Melissa has heard all the nightmares about what can go wrong with midlife second marriages between people who are both very set in their ways, and she is experiencing none of them so far.
That does not mean, however, that everything has gone according to plan.
Melissa does not coordinate Christmas decorating because she is female, or too used to being the only actual adult around, or any of the cultural-pressure reasons that might explain why she is currently surrounded by boxes in her living room. If left unsupervised, her boys – her kids, she supposes would be the correct way of putting it now, but it was just two for so long and it’s strange to have a full house even though she has the past few years – would be more than capable of doing everything they think is appropriate. And also her human bonus child would fall off a ladder, and someone else would probably discover the hard way whether werewolves can get electrocuted. She loves the kids, she really does, but she knows most of them and she’s not about to assume any of the new friends from college are any more sensible, and-
“The hell is this? I’ve never seen ornaments like that before."
Melissa turns her head to see the source of her boyfriend’s curiosity, unsure what she expects. There are times she has to remind herself that he did technically spend the first forty or so years of his life actively in a cult and there are nuances to mundane life that she occasionally has to explain, but-
“There should be a matching one somewhere in that box. The boys made those. Art class… I can’t remember what year, but…”
“And you kept everything?”
She knows Chris doesn't mean anything negative by that – they’re still learning each other, and there will be new details for years to come if not the entire rest of their lives – but something about it hits wrong, and she wants to recoil and she knows she shouldn't and-
“I keep everything people give me. I like the reminders.”
At least he’s perceptive, by the standards she’s used to. Quiet for a while, but she sees the look in his eyes like he knows he misstepped and he knows she’s forgiving enough that it doesn't matter and-
“So I should be careful what I give you.”
“I know you're careful. And I know you have better taste than… I should show you pictures of some of the Mother's Day bouquets sometime, there was a legitimate suspicion that Stiles might be color-blind – he isn’t, but-”
“The bar is incredibly low. Understood.”
“I value intentions over outcome. Do it out of love and-”
“I don't know how to handle something so easy.”
Melissa crawls across a pile of tissue paper and rests her head on her partner’s shoulder. “I wouldn't say love is ever easy. But worth it, always.”
“You make things easy. Does that sound better?”
“Yeah,” she decides, turning her head and taking a kiss. “Much better.”
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