Chapter Text
FEBRUARY
Stiles recognizes the man at the bar from the tattoo crawling up the side of his neck. He has a special interest in tattoos lately, so what? He also has a memory like a steel trap and a perennial crush on Star Wars Era!Harrison Ford, so of course he remembers the sexy Han Solo from the Pandemonium Halloween party. The man stumbled into him and his friends on the dance floor, shouting over the club music asking if they’d seen a Luke Skywalker around. It was a pity that Han came with a date, because the stark black druidic rune on his clavicle was begging for Stiles to touch that skin and trace the shape of it.
Tonight, Blondie is by himself. He’s taken up a spot at the bar, leather jacket draped on the stool next to him like he’s saving the seat or preventing others from disrupting his brooding. Stiles guesses the latter, judging from how he keeps turning down women as they approach him.
He watches from the table where he’s half-listening to his college friends chatter, nursing a drink as a third woman approaches. This one doesn’t even get the courtesy of being rejected; Blondie just stares her down until she scowls and walks away. This, also, does it for Stiles. He likes nothing more than a challenge, except maybe broody guys with tattoos and a leather jacket. So he decides to shoot his shot.
He sidles up to the hot, intimidating stranger and doesn’t even pretend to order a drink. He taps the man on his well-defined shoulder and grins broadly when that glower is turned on him. And, oh, this guy is pretty. Delicate features with a gruff exterior? Just Stiles’ type.
“Han, right?” Stiles asks, leaning against the bar.
“Do I know you?” Blondie asks. He seems a little confused at how unbothered Stiles is by the strong fuck off aura he’s emitting.
“Oh, no, you don’t!” Stiles laughs. “But I was here at Halloween; you were dressed as Han Solo, going around looking for your Luke Skywalker. Everyone kept talking about the sexy Han with the neck tattoo after that,” he says with a wink. Everyone, of course, meaning every person Stiles could recount the tale to for the next three days. “Did you ever find the guy you were looking for?”
Stiles isn’t sure what he’s done, but Blondie responds to it, sitting taller and quirking a little smile at him. “You could be my Luke Skywalker tonight,” he says.
It’s not a good pickup line, but the low purr of his voice makes it the sexiest phrase ever pitched in Stiles’ direction. Stiles grins and leans in to respond. “I’m okay with that.”
They end up spending the night and the next day together, both the sex and the conversation clicking. Stiles considers asking to see him again, but he realizes pretty quickly that this Jace guy is still hung up on the man he went to the Halloween party with. It’s a little pathetic, actually, and Stiles decides immediately that they need to be friends.
It also helps with Stiles’ New Year's Resolution to expand his social circle at college. His first two years in New York had been a miserable cycle of cramming as many classes as he could fit into his schedule and spending a small fortune flying home to California for breaks. He almost burned out at the end of his second year. What made him think an Accounting/Pre-Law double major made sense anyway?
It got put into perspective for him when he complained to his lifelong bestie Scott about being homesick, and the bastard suggested he hit up his cousin Derek in New York City if he’s feeling so lonely. Stiles isn’t sure that his best friend appreciates the fact that his college is at least three hours upstate. It’s like asking Scott to drive from UCLA to Bakersfield to check in on Stiles’ aunt Midge. Except maybe worse, because Scott hadn’t spent a good chunk of his pre-teen years having a sexual identity crisis because she was the hot older cousin at every Hale-McCall family gathering that Scott dragged Stiles to.
Besides Jace, he’s been spending more time with his classmates. He joins some accounting study groups and ends up liking his classmates enough to start going to accounting club socials. The accountants are a lot more fun than he expected; according to them, public accountants are all alcoholics, so they’re partying hard as training for their future career options. Good for them; Stiles is pretty sure that the FBI won’t be impressed if he put Drinking Champion on his resume.
There’s this guy, Simon, that he instantly befriends when he starts opening up. Truth be told, Stiles doesn’t know why he never talked to Simon before. They’ve been in several classes and study groups together, but it isn’t until they’re assigned to share a macroeconomics presentation that he learns anything about the other student.
“Can we meet up at a different time? My Graphic Novel class is then,” Simon tells him while they're working out schedules.
“That’s dope,” Stiles enthuses, macroeconomics completely forgotten. “You a big comic fan, then?”
“Better believe it!” Simon says, then begins rattling off a list of favorite titles and universes, and Stiles is pretty sure he’s met his twin flame. He develops a little bit of a crush.
MARCH
Simon is, objectively speaking, an attractive guy. He’s got thick, dark hair, and bright eyes behind round glasses and nerdy shirts that could’ve come from Stiles’ closet, if Stiles didn’t prefer his shirts loose. They get along like a house on fire. He has an earnest charisma that plays well off of Stiles’ caustic wit and he can keep up with Stiles’ rapid-fire way of slipping in and out of conversation topics, which is a relief when Stiles has been told all his life he can be a little too much to handle.
And so, egged on by a wager with Jace that love is not a hopeless endeavor, he starts courting Simon before the end of the term.
Inviting the other man to a mutual friend’s house party goes nowhere, but then a few days later Simon corners him after a study session and asks if it had been a date.
“I was kind of hoping it was,” Stiles tells him, “But after you spent a half hour talking about your break up, I wasn’t sure I should make a move.”
Simon stammers at that, and oh, that is endearing. “I wouldn’t have minded,” Simon tells him. “Can we try again?”
They hash it out; being knee-deep in finals and on the edge of a nervous breakdown anytime he even considers his studies, Stiles isn’t in the frame of mind to plan anything just yet. On Simon’s end, he recently got out of an ill-advised attempt at dating a childhood friend, a relationship doomed by the fact it could never live up to fifteen years of expectations.
They make plans to hang out over Spring Break; Stiles was planning on staying on campus instead of flying back to California for the week, so Simon invites him home to Brooklyn to go sightseeing in New York City.
“I just want to get to know you better,” Simon says when Stiles teases and asks if this is supposed to be a date. “I’m not ready to jump into a relationship, but I like you and I think we can have fun together. So if you’re okay with seeing where things go…”
This sounds reasonable to Stiles, considering what Simon’s told him about his dating history. They agree to nothing official, nothing exclusive. Just spending time together and doing what comes naturally to them.
When they first discuss his visit, Stiles assumes he’s been invited to stay with Simon. Then a week later, Simon mentions feeling some sort of way about bringing someone he’s seeing casually to spend a week under his mother’s roof. “Jewish moms, you know how it is,” Simon jokes with an anxious laugh. It seems strange, but Stiles has his Constitutional Law final in two hours, so he doesn’t examine it closely.
Stiles thinks quickly. “Nah, that’s fine. I get it. I have a friend from back home I can crash with. No worries.”
“Friend” is definitely overstating his relationship with Derek. They text occasionally, and last year they split an Uber home from Oakland International when Stiles was back for the summer and Derek was in town for his sister Cora’s birthday. Including that disaster, he’s seen Derek three times in ten years. Still, he’s sure that Derek will let him crash for a week.
“Great,” Simon chirps with a sunny grin. Context aside, Simon’s smile has a calming effect even on Stiles’ anxiety-fried brain. “After your test, let’s plan the itinerary. Also, I just found out you’re friends with Jace Lightwood?”
In a surprising turn of events, his two new friends know each other.
It’s awkward for Stiles, considering he’d gone several rounds of sex with Jace within 24 hours of meeting, and he has barely crossed first base with Simon, who he is kind of (but not really) dating. Simon thinks it’s great they know each other though and gushes about how excited he is to spend time with them both when they’re all back in Brooklyn.
It gives Stiles pause. Sure, he knows they’re taking things slow, but he had expected a little more emphasis on just him and Simon alone. Later, he looks at the itinerary Simon and his friends set up in the Facebook group they started for the endeavor; it sounds less like they’ll be going on dates and more like constant group hangouts.
It’s fine, Stiles tells himself, he’ll just have to adjust his expectations. First though—he has to beg Derek for a place to stay.
SPRING BREAK
And so Stiles spends Spring Break in the Big Apple. He stays at Derek’s place in Williamsburg and gets picked up daily by Simon to go on adventures all over New York. They spend hours and hours together, sightseeing, flirting, and bonding over obscure trivia. Sometimes they even make out in Simon’s van before he drops Stiles off for the day.
Despite all the time spent together, Stiles doesn’t get bored of him, which is surprising considering that Simon is so against his type. He has a documented history of being highly attracted to intimidating people. See his first crush Lydia, who still terrifies him when she looks at him like she can read his mind, and his first girlfriend Malia, who has the general demeanor of a wild coyote and left legit scars on his back.
Simon is soft in a way he’s unfamiliar with. His smiles lack sharpness, and even being a musician doesn’t give him an edge, seeing that his act is less punk rock and more coffeeshop hipster. It’s refreshing.
Though speaking of intimidating: there is still the Jace question. There’s something Stiles can’t put his finger on. It might be one-sided on his part, since he still hasn’t told Simon the truth about his connection to Jace. But he swears there’s something in the air whenever the blond comes up.
In retrospect, the first clue showed up on the long drive to Brooklyn on the first day of break. It was their first extended period alone without mutual friends or classes to distract them, and they talked for hours about anything and everything from comics to philosophy to stories from back home.
Stiles had assumed Jace was an old friend from Brooklyn, given the way Stiles describes Jace in the same terms he uses for Clary (brilliant, awe-inspiring, my best friend) and he knows that Clary is the childhood friend Simon told him about on that first date. But when Stiles mentioned high school or the last time he went to Comic-Con, Jace was absent from the stories even though Clary appeared in every single one. He asked Simon about it.
“The Lightwoods grew up in Park Slope, and Izzy said they went to St. Idris; rich kids, you know? Clary and I were P.S. 32X kids. So we never ran into each other,” Simon explained, like those words meant anything to Stiles. “We only met this year because of Clary. They’re art soulmates or whatever. We actually only got close working on the comic for class, and he is pretty much responsible for saving my friendship with Clary. So, you know, forged in fire, right?”
Right.
Then there are the times that Jace declines to go out with them. Stiles likes Jace well enough, but he isn’t overly concerned when Jace says he is too busy working on some artist thing. Simon pouts though and spams their group chat with photos all day even though Jace is the only one who isn’t there with them.
The other two in their party are Clary and Izzy, Jace’s sister who looks nothing like him. Stiles is pretty sure they’re sneaking around; he knows college girls can be handsy, but in addition to linking arms and playing with each other’s hair, he keeps turning to see the girls far off, absorbed in something else with each other. He’s glad for it though; it feels more like a double date this way.
Jace only joins them once on the trip, and that’s the day Stiles upgrades this nagging thought from the Jace question to the Jace Question, capitalized. With emphasis.
He hasn’t spent much time with Jace in person, but they chat frequently online or through text. Stiles likes him. Finds him a kindred spirit. But spending time with him and Simon together puts Stiles on alert in a way he doesn’t like. Maybe it’s the way Jace is unfairly hot when he broods, and he spends most of the day doing just that. Maybe it’s the way Simon, the ray of sunshine he is, does his best to include Jace in the conversation at every turn.
Stiles is not a jealous person. He doesn’t have any reason or right to be since (a) Jace is still pining over his straight friend from last Fall and (b) Stiles and Simon aren’t boyfriends anyway. They’re barely even friends with benefits; they’re friends who make out and sometimes hold hands with a maybe on the horizon.
Still, the atmosphere makes Stiles want to stake his claim. Press close to him and smile adoringly while they’re standing next to each other. Get Simon rambling on some nerd thing that Jace can’t respond to properly. Throw effusive praise at Simon till his cheeks are stained red with embarrassment because of Stiles.
He doesn’t like himself like this.
But that isn’t what triggers the status upgrade. No, what makes the Jace question become the Jace Question (capitalized, with emphasis) is a moment late in the day, after their itinerary is complete and they’re grabbing Java Jones with Jace and the girls before going their separate ways.
They're sitting around a table, Stiles resting an arm on the back of Simon’s chair as Simon proposes converting their graphic novel class project into a webcomic, relaying Stiles’ offer to get them started online.
Jace takes the offer and spins it into an insult. “Oh, so on top of being an accountant, a lawyer, and a comic convention guru, you’re a web designer now too.” Jace sounds simultaneously disbelieving, doubtful, and derisive. His tone is sharp enough to draw blood.
Stiles’ body tenses immediately. Fight or flight. For all that Jace has a mean edge to his humor and their message threads are mostly strings of snark, Jace has never personally attacked him, let alone for something so innocuous as offering to help.
But then Simon leans into Stiles’s side. The physical weight of him is enough to distract Stiles from his hurt feelings. Amid his laughing retort to Jace’s comment, Simon glances up at Stiles with those bright eyes, sparkling with an invitation as he shifts to slot his shoulder more neatly under Stiles’ arm.
It’s the first display of affection Simon initiated all day. Stiles wraps his arm around Simon’s shoulders. Simon continues talking without pause, having successfully defused the situation without a word. Stiles can see that Jace looks sorry for his outburst and decides to let it go. But he takes note.
APRIL
Stiles and Simon aren’t in any classes together come spring term, but they try to see each other as much as possible. It’s difficult between classes and extracurriculars, but they manage.
They mostly do nights in, putting on some show on Stiles’ laptop while they’re in bed. They usually lose interest in favor of making out or having sex instead. They also go out to accounting club socials and study with Simon’s hometown friends at their usual spot.
The No Labels aspect of their relationship is confusing to navigate. There’s no guidebook for it. Everyone knows they are kind of (but not really) an item. At parties, Simon will let Stiles sling a possessive arm around his shoulder and call him pet names, but at the coffee shop, they’ll rarely do more than play footsie and steal each other’s food.
There’s also the Jace Question. Stiles now has far more context to how Simon and Jace act together, and he is 89% sure that Simon has a big fat crush on his best friend. Simon is good at tempering his admiration for Jace in public, but Stiles is an expert people reader. He sees the way Simon’s eyes rest on Jace when the blond isn’t looking. He feels the energy shift when Simon inserts himself into conversations alongside Jace, mostly with Stiles and sometimes Clary. It turns out that Jace can be really mean, and Simon naturally slots in next to him, effortlessly turning Jace’s biting commentary into something playful and soft, like he’s trained to be Jace’s snark translator. It’s an incredible dynamic to witness, especially because Simon seems entirely unaware of what it looks like to outsiders.
It isn’t a big deal, because Jace is still hung up on the guy from Halloween and it seems Simon was never going to act on his crush, considering he’s dating Stiles in the first place, albeit in the loosest sense of the term. They haven’t re-opened a discussion about being official or exclusive, and Simon’s not the only one guilty of crushing on other people. After all, Stiles recently gritted his teeth through a week of proximity to Derek Hale. He very much understands what Simon is feeling.
The only difference is that Jace is a mutual friend they spend time with together. He doesn’t care that Simon is crushing, but it feels rude for Simon to be looking at him with little heart eyes right in front of Stiles’ salad.
And so one day when they’re alone in Stiles’ dorm and Simon shows him his latest storyboard where the Jace character goes shirtless for several pages, Stiles reads it over and not-so-accidentally comments out loud on the tattoos Simon has theorized about on the guy’s body and written in the panel descriptions. He feels mean as the words come out of his mouth like he’s channeling Jace or Derek. But he can’t stop it.
“That one’s not a Celtic rune. He’s got calligraphy there. Here, like this,” Stiles says, tugging a pencil from Simon’s grip. He turns the page over and scribbles a little illustration of a torso on the back. He has a mind like a steel trap, after all, and he has been up close and personal with the skewed W along Jace’s rib cage and pressed his hand against the graceful swirls of the battle brothers symbol at the dip of Jace’s waist. He sketches them in rough strokes as Simon watches, a puzzled furrow on his brow.
He feels viciously proud of himself as he finishes with a hard stroke, taking satisfaction that he knows something about Jace that Simon doesn’t.
Then he looks up at Simon. Behind round glasses, those warm eyes are pained. He looks like a kicked puppy.
“… Are you talking about Jace’s actual, literal tattoos? How do you know about them? They’re pretty well covered.”
Stiles regrets what he’s done immediately, his anger collapsing when he sees how it’s affected Simon. He shouldn’t be this jealous, shouldn’t be rubbing the fact that he’s slept with Simon’s crush in his face when Simon hasn’t even done anything wrong by the standards of their relationship, as it were.
Well, the secret would have come out eventually. He wishes he hadn’t done it like this.
“Uh, actually. We ran into each other while drinking at Pandemonium and ended up sleeping together,” he says, trying for apologetic. “It was a one-night stand! We’re not sneaking around behind your back or anything.”
Simon is silent for a long moment, chewing his lip as he thinks through a response. “I mean,” he says at last, “It’s fine. It’s not like we were seeing each other when you guys met. And like, we’re not boyfriends now. And I mean… you’ve seen him, right? So hot. Ridiculously hot. Wherever we go, he’s getting hit on. I just assume pretty much everyone’s slept with Jace at this point. I figure it’s only a matter of time before I sleep with him myself.”
It’s the type of self-deprecating joke Simon is known for, and Stiles kind of hates the way Simon smiles around it, strained and brittle.
SPRING BREAK, REVISITED
When they were 15, Scott visited his dad in New York and returned with an uneven black band tattooed around his upper arm, courtesy of his freshly apprenticed 19-year-old cousin. Derek has come a long way since as a tattoo artist and has his own shop in a nondescript office building in Flushing, Queens.
It’s on the way to Brooklyn, so that’s where Simon drops Stiles off on the first day of Spring Break. Derek meets him outside the building with his dog, an older black Malinois, sitting at his side. Stiles grabs his bag and jumps out of the van, blowing an exaggerated kiss at Simon, who returns the gesture with a goofy smile before driving off.
Stiles turns to see Derek standing in the doorway with his arms crossed, an eyebrow raised in judgment.
“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” Derek says in place of a greeting. “Why aren’t you staying with him?”
If Derek won’t be polite, Stiles will just greet himself. He pitches his voice into a sugar-sweet tone that has probably never come from Derek’s lips and says, “‘Hello Stiles, nice to see you. This is the dog my sister bullied me into adopting over Christmas, want to say hi?’” He holds his hand out to the pup, who sniffs at him suspiciously before barking in approval and presenting her neck for scritches. Stiles obliges, kneeling to coo at the very good girl as she basks in the attention.
Derek huffs. “Does Scott tell you everything that happens in my life?”
“Actually, no. Cora posted about it on Facebook. The selfie with the Santa hats was adorable.” He grins up at Derek; from this angle, Derek looms over him. The older man’s expression seems to soften at Stiles’ words. “Also, hi Derek! Thanks for hosting me.”
Derek might be a Luddite who refuses to take part in society and join social media, but Stiles is Facebook friends with all of Derek’s surviving family, even creepy Uncle Peter. He might have done some research since he texted Derek begging for a place to crash. Photos of Derek are few and far between, but he found them spanning ten years back to when Derek left for New York. None of them prepared him for the full effect of Derek’s hotness.
Derek has grown a beard since last summer, a short black fuzz that contrasts beautifully against his pale skin and brings out the striking colors in his eyes. His crossed arms emphasize the bulk of his biceps as well as the ink spreading out from his short shirtsleeves. He’s not much taller than Stiles, but he is broader with shoulders to die for. In most pictures, Derek has a sour face, looking flat and unimpressed. Now, he has a half-grin on, like he’s trying not to be amused by Stiles. It looks good on his chiseled face.
And yep, Stiles’ childhood crush is alive and well. He remembers having the same thought when they carpooled home from the airport last year, and he wonders if it’s one of those things where your earliest loves will always stay with you no matter how much you grow and change.
Derek opens the door to the building as Stiles gives the Malinois one last coo and stands back to his feet. “You didn’t answer my question though. What happened to your boyfriend? He trying to pawn you off for the week?”
“What? Oh.” Stiles had totally gotten lost in Derek’s eyes. He flushes in embarrassment, which seems to amuse Derek further. “Ah, you mean Simon. No, he’s not my boyfriend. We’re dating casually for now, no commitment, no exclusivity. That kind of thing. We’re not at the meet the parents stage.”
“Because that’s going to end well,” Derek snorts. He ushers Stiles in and points him up the stairs to an unassuming office door with a plate reading Triskelion Ink.
“Hey, you’re just old and chronically single. You don’t understand the intricacies of modern dating,” Stiles huffs.
“Okay, first off, 26 is not old. You’re what, 21?”
“I’m 22 next month,” Stiles says proudly, and Derek rolls his eyes.
“Still. Also, what you heard from Scott about me probably isn’t true. Trust me, you’re not treading new ground. Situationships lead nowhere good. I don’t need you coming back to my apartment all mopey because you didn’t set appropriate boundaries. I’ll never hear the end of it from Scott and Aunt Melissa if your heart gets broken on my watch.”
It’s Stiles’ turn to roll his eyes. Pessimist.
MAY
After their fight—was it a fight?—after Stiles tells Simon about his history with Jace, things are tense between them. Even so, he tags along the next time Simon meets Jace to discuss the comic. He goes partly because he does like both of his friends, after all. But he goes partly to stake his claim, to try to keep Simon’s attention on him in some small way.
Situationships are confusing. Stiles doesn’t particularly feel they’re at a stage where he can claim to be Simon’s, but he wants it all the same. So he pitches an idea to Simon and Jace about writing himself into the comic, to immortalize himself as someone important to Simon in this endeavor.
Then Jace does the thing where he drawls in an acerbic tone designed to inflict damage: “Are you sure? That’s a pretty big commitment.” The way his eyes flit from Simon to Stiles makes it clear he’s talking about them and their relationship. Jace has no reason to know that they’re having problems, but somehow he does and he’s wielding it like a dagger.
Simon scowls at that, and instead of easing the tension from Jace’s bite like he usually does, he snaps, “You don’t have to be a jerk about it.”
“I’m just saying!” Jace protests, but Simon is having none of it. He excuses himself and flees the scene, leaving Stiles and Jace alone.
Stiles heaves a sigh and sags in his chair. This whole thing is exhausting. What was supposed to be fun and easy with Simon has turned stressful and borderline toxic.
He feels a duty to explain what’s happening to Jace though; the cat is out of the bag, and it affects Jace’s friendship with Simon too. So he apologizes for whatever the hell just happened, and tells him they should talk. “It’s about Simon,” he says.
Jace startles at that, eyes darting around in an unusually open expression.
A thought suddenly occurs to Stiles. Like a dog with a bone, he can’t leave it be. Stiles narrows his eyes, taking in Jace’s high-strung demeanor, remembering his defensive posture in the last half-hour. “You’re being weird again,” he says abruptly.
“I’m not being weird, you are,” Jace throws back. The rejoinder lacks the heat Jace had moments ago.
“See? This is what I’m talking about. You could do so much better than that. But lately, your wit has been so… uninspired,” Stiles responds.
His mind is racing. When did Jace turn from sardonic and sullen to downright mean? He didn’t see it until he started coming around with Simon. He wasn’t like this the day they met or when Jace came over on Valentine’s Day to complain about being in unrequited love with his Luke Skywalker from the Halloween party. Maybe it’s related.
“Is this about Luke?” he demands.
“It’s not,” Jace lies.
It is, and it’s obvious. Stiles tells him so, rolling his eyes at the stupidity. He gets distracted consoling Jace, because the blond has always been a little pathetic about his crush in a way that hits close to home. Jace’s legitimate self-esteem problems remind Stiles of Derek and things he learned about the older man in their recently kindled friendship. Both of these dense, brooding men assume that people aren’t going to notice or care whether or not they’re happy and doing well, which is so ridiculous when they are surrounded by friends who love them.
He tells Jace as much, lecturing him about his self-worth. “You are not unworthy. If your guy is going to treat you badly, screw him,” Stiles says emphatically. Jace cracks a little smile at that. For now, that’s good enough.
Stiles is still suspicious though. A new hypothesis eats at his mind, recontextualizing these last three months.
He doesn’t put a voice to it in case he’s wrong. He needs solid evidence first.
Simon and Stiles apologize to each other, but by tacit agreement, they take a break from the more physical aspects of their relationship.
Despite everything going on, Simon is still his favorite person on campus. Some days he desperately wants this to work out. But other days he’s just happy sitting with Simon in the library as friends sharing snacks and pop quizzes.
Simon still comes as his date to an accounting classmate’s house party where they still flirt and circle around each other all night, but they don’t go any farther than snuggling on the couch playing party games and a kiss goodnight.
Stiles still accompanies Simon to the undergraduate art showcase that Jace has been stressing about for months.
It’s Simon’s first time seeing Jace’s artwork outside the webcomic. It’s not the first time for Stiles, though; he literally bites his tongue against the impulse to brag about it.
He first saw one of Jace’s paintings on a tiny phone screen in Jace’s dorm room back in February. Stiles doesn’t know much about art, but Jace’s painting was easy to read at a glance. The framing of the landscape, the soft and ethereal colors, the evocative strokes, even the subject being an eerily empty forest. It was like a window into Jace’s soul.
It’s what tipped him off immediately that Jace was lonely. Before Spring Break, Jace sent him an updated version of the painting with light and airy sunshine added to the landscape as proof that he was doing better on that front. Until last week’s confrontation, Stiles had believed him.
In person, the completed works all deal with themes of ambivalence and duality, with each painting displaying two disparate landscapes either separated as foreground or background, sometimes with one transitioning into another. God, artists are depressing.
As usual, Jace and Simon start bickering almost immediately. Jace mocks Simon’s outfit, but Simon takes it as playful banter. Stiles and Simon turn it back on Jace a moment later, when Jace’s words seem to fail him in introducing his work to them in a proper manner.
“This is my art,” Jace says lamely, waving his hand at the paintings behind him.
“That's all you’re going to say?” Stiles admonishes.
“Yeah,” Simon chimes in. “You kept blowing us off all of Spring Break and on weekends for this, there’s got to be something more.” He raises an expectant eyebrow at Jace.
“Maybe I ditched you all break because I didn’t want to hear about Star Wars 24/7,” Jace shoots back.
That part of Stiles that he doesn’t like—the one that keeps trying to prove a point about the Jace Question— rears its head at the mention of Star Wars. It’s found an opening, and Stiles doesn’t have time to think before he blurts something that will get him in trouble.
“Lies,” Stiles cuts in, grinning as he gestures to Jace. “Can you believe? The first time I met this guy, he was dressed as Han Solo.”
Simon lights up at the mention. “Oh, I remember that! Halloween, right?” Stiles nods in affirmation, but Simon’s already continuing: “Izzy found out that Clary and I were doing a group costume and tricked Jace into doing it too!”
Stiles stiffens, and he glances from Simon to Jace and back again. He can feel sweat gather on his palms. Yes, he had been suspicious, but he hadn’t expected to get answers so easily. Just to be sure, he asks, “So if Jace was Han, then you were…?”
“I was Luke,” Simon confirms, beaming up at Jace, “Clary was Leia. It’s just too bad that we didn’t run into you the whole night. Could have taken a cute group photo.”
Usually, when Stiles proves a hunch correct, he’s over the moon. His detecting skills are unrivaled, and he loves the chance to show off. Solving for the identity of Luke Skywalker from Halloween, the guy Jace is still hung up on, is a huge get. But he doesn’t feel so good about this one.
“Huh,” Stiles says flatly. He raises an eyebrow at Jace, who at least has the decency to look chagrined. “Luke, huh? That’s interesting.”
Simon picks up on Jace’s non-verbal response—of course he does, he pays so much attention to Jace, but hasn’t noticed the way Stiles has been feeling the whole night—and plays interference, brightening his tone of voice as he moves the conversation along.
Stiles stays quiet as Jace gives his artist statement, something about duality and perception, the internal and external. Simon pays rapt attention, but Stiles is in his own head thinking about the fact that he’s the only one who knows that these paintings are all dedicated to Simon—Jace all but confirmed it when Simon prodded about it—and Simon is obsessed right back.
Stiles feels a little cheated. He never had a fair chance, not against this, and it seems cruel now that Simon had ever agreed to go out with him, even under the pretext of no labels or exclusivity.
It isn’t long before Stiles feels sick enough about it to make an excuse to leave.
It’s still early in the evening as he sets out. The sun is still shining at this time of year, and the walk back to his dorm apartment will be good to clear his head.
Halfway through the trek, he realizes the edges of his vision are beginning to blur; his breathing is labored, almost hyperventilating to get air to his tight chest. His palms are still sweating and his head has gotten light and all he wants to do is find a dark corner to hide in.
He’s having an anxiety attack.
Shit, shit, shit. Stiles has been so careful the last few years, always on the edge of a breakdown but managing to avoid them by handling the anxiety before it comes to a head.
He finds an unlocked lecture hall and makes his way to a bathroom while digging out his phone to call Scott. His best friend’s warm, calming presence helped him through his last attack back in his senior year of high school. He’s 3,000 miles away, but hearing his voice will help.
Stiles has a hard time focusing on breathing and walking and fumbling with his phone at the same time, but he does his best to click through his recent calls for Scott’s number as he finds a men’s restroom and pushes the door open. When it picks up on the second ring he hears his name, “Stiles?”
“Scott!” he cries. He sets his phone down on the restroom counter and switches on the speakerphone. He takes a shaky breath and a hot gulp of air. “Hey, bud. Need your help.”
“…It’s Derek.”
Stiles looks down at the screen. Oh, so it is. Must have missed and hit someone else’s name in his distress.
“…Do you want me to get Scott on the line? Can I help you with something?”
Stiles opens his mouth to respond, to apologize for bothering Derek and hang up the phone, but all that comes out is a ragged gasp. He fumbles for the sink faucet and splashes water on his face, trying to focus on taking slow steady breaths.
Derek’s tinny voice sounds more alarmed as he recognizes that Stiles isn’t answering. “Stiles. It sounds like you’re having a panic attack. Can you hear me? Listen to my voice. Breathe deep. Count with me…” And amazingly, that works.
Stiles screws his eyes shut and focuses on Derek’s voice: “Breathe in, one, two, three, breathe out, one, two, three.” He repeats this several times as Stiles clutches the bathroom sink in a vise grip. Derek’s voice is soothing, softening as he gets further into his role. “Count your fingers,” he says, “One, two, three, four, five. Good. Wiggle them. Touch your nose.”
The last one makes Stiles laugh, and he realizes that the exercise has calmed his anxiety enough that he has the air to do so.
Derek continues his guided meditation: “Remember camping when we were kids? My parents led morning salutations. We had a mantra. Remember it? Three things cannot stay long hidden. The sun, the moon…”
“…And the truth,” Stiles says, finishing the mantra in unison with Derek.
Stiles gives one more shaky exhale as Derek laughs softly in relief. He doesn’t say anything for several minutes, but he’s there; Stiles can hear the sounds of street traffic and city life on the other end of the line.
“Thanks for that,” Stiles says eventually. He picks up his phone to speak directly into the speaker. “I’ve been having a hell of a night. You didn’t have to stay on with me, so thanks.”
“Weren’t you the one who told me to accept help with grace?” Derek teases.
“Yeah well…” Stiles sighs. He sinks down to the bathroom floor and leans against the wall beside the sink. “It’s ironic that the mantra talks about the truth coming out. That’s what happened tonight. It was messy, and all my fault.”
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Derek doesn’t sound dismissive though, and Stiles wants to get this off his chest.
“Turns out the guy I’m seeing—remember the situationship from Brooklyn?—he’s in love with someone else.”
“That’s unlucky.”
“You’re not going to say I told you so?”
“I did, but I’m not going to rub it in your face. Ok, scale of 1 to 10: how badly does it hurt?”
Stiles has to think about that. He really thought he had something special with Simon. But it hadn’t stopped either of them from wanting other people, had it? Their chemistry is built on their converging ADHD tendencies and hyper-fixations, and the intensity of his attraction to Simon waxes and wanes depending on how insecure he feels in comparison to Jace. He wonders if they would have even lasted this long as boyfriends from the start, instead of having some nameless, nebulous connection instead.
“A six, I guess? I think my ego is more bruised than anything. I’m not broken-hearted so much as disappointed that it took me so long to figure it out.”
“Ah, I see. Detective Stiles’ professional reputation takes a hit.”
“I guess I’ll have to find a different line of work.”
“Don’t do that. I heard you’re a shoo-in for an FBI Internship. Aunt Melissa already asked if I had a spare room for you.”
Stiles blinks. ’Cause yeah, he talked to Scott’s dad when he submitted his application to the New York City field office for the summer internship program, but he’s surprised that word has gotten to Derek about it. He’s even more surprised that Derek is bringing it up to… what, comfort him? This is wild. Mark this day in history.
It’s working too; Stiles has already forgotten why he was so upset. Or at the very least, he has remembered why he doesn’t need to be so upset, not when the outcome is out of his control and there are other things in his life to look forward to.
“I… Thanks Derek. That helps.”
There’s a pause at the other end like Derek hadn’t expected the sincerity. They don’t have a script for this kind of conversation, where Derek is being genuinely helpful and not just offering his opinion couched in judgment and dry humor.
“So what are you going to do now?”
“Right now I’m going to go back to my dorm and finish my homework. I’ll worry about the rest tomorrow. Keep me company?”
“Sure. I can get Scott on the line if you want. That’s who you were trying to call, wasn’t it?”
“No, if it’s just you… That’s fine.”
“Then I’m here. Tell me about this other guy then, is it the ‘friend’ he ditched you for on the last day when we went to Coney Island?”
“... Now you’re rubbing it in. How’d you know? You never even met them!”
The day after the art show, Stiles meets Simon to talk. It’s lunchtime, but they go to the coffee spot halfway between the North and West campus dorms.
Between a rumpled t-shirt and dark under eyes, Simon looks like he hasn’t slept. Stiles feels bad that his “We need to talk” text last night probably contributed to this.
They’ve been sitting across from each other for a few minutes, drinking their coffees quietly. For the first time since they met, it neither of them knows what to say.
“I’m sorry,” Simon starts before Stiles can work up the nerve.
Stiles doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for, since Simon wasn’t the one nudging them toward the edge of a cliff. “For what?”
Simon chews his lip nervously. “This is about Jace, right? I’m sorry. I’ve been weird since you told me you hooked up. It’s not fair of me.”
Stiles shakes his head. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. Even before that, I haven’t been acting right, and it’s been messing with our… well, whatever we are to each other. I was jealous.”
Simon gapes in surprise. “I thought that was my line.” Simon swallows hard, then confesses, “I got jealous when you told me about your hookup. Unreasonable, I know. But I didn’t even know he was into guys! And I couldn’t stop thinking about it all week. That’s why I distanced myself.”
The man still doesn’t get the point, so Stiles applies pressure. He smiles bitterly and asks, “Were you jealous that I slept with someone else, or that it was Jace?”
Simon turns scarlet, which is answer enough.
Stiles sighs tiredly and scrubs a hand across his face. “This really is my fault. I figured out you had a crush on him a while ago, and I was jealous. That’s when I started getting pushy and territorial, tagging along to your work sessions and trying to get input in the comic. I wasn’t planning to tell you about me and Jace unless we were going official because I didn’t want to start unnecessary drama. But then I did because I was feeling petty. And… and I wanted to hurt your feelings. You didn’t deserve it. That one’s on me. I’m sorry for that.”
Simon takes this in silence. Hurt and guilt mix on his face, and his eyes are beginning to shine with unshed tears. Stiles continues talking.
“Listen, Simon. I think we could be good together. But at the same time, I just like spending time with you. With or without any of the dating stuff. Honestly, you’re my closest friend on campus. If we haven’t fucked this up beyond repair, I’d like to go back to that. If you don’t think you could ever see us being a serious thing.”
If you could ever get over Jace, is what Stiles means, but that would be pointless and unfair to say out loud.
Simon looks at him with guilty, wet eyes. Slowly, he nods his head. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best. I’m sorry. I never meant to… I really like you, you know. I like spending time with you too. And you’re so hot, seriously the hottest guy I’ve ever dated.”
That gets a laugh out of Stiles. “I’m the only guy you’ve ever dated,” Stiles points out.
Simon gasps in mock offense. “I’ll have you know that I made out with Jimmy Swanson in the ninth grade and he was pretty hot too, maybe I’ll give the title to him instead.”
“It won’t matter soon anyway,” Stiles shoots back, “You can’t tell me I’m hotter than Jace.”
“You’re nerd hot; he’s dark and tortured artist hot. It’s like the Grammys “Best In” categories, totally different genres. Can’t compare.”
It shouldn’t be this easy to joke with the boy he likes about whether another man is hotter. The fact that Stiles feels nothing but relief that their rapport is still solid probably means they’ll be okay. Besides, he’s sure Derek Hale would beat out Jace for the Hottest Tortured Artist award.
Speaking of those two… He checks the time. Mock trial notes are due in thirty minutes, and then he has to get back to Derek and also figure out what he’s going to do about the Jace situation. He’s got a plan though.
“We’re good then, yeah? Back to just friends now?” Stiles asks Simon, bringing them back to the purpose of their talk. A tentative smile crosses Simon’s face. Good.
“Yeah, just friends,” Simon agrees. “I think… I think we should spend some time apart, but maybe after midterms? I can’t make the accounting club social, but I’ll be at the after-party.”
“I’ll see you there.”
They leave, parting with a friendly hug before going their separate ways—Stiles to the law library, Simon to his audit study group—and Stiles is almost out of earshot when something seems to occur to Simon.
“Wait, Stiles! What did you say about Jace? What do you mean ‘it won’t matter soon?’”
Stiles calls back over his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it!”