Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jackson made a reappearance into the Beacon Hills supernatural scene, not with the dramatic flair that people might suppose, but subtly, like he never really left.

The first changes were small, not-noticeable-things that no one would be looking for unless they were well versed in semantics. Mr. Whittemore is a big shot lawyer. Everyone and their dog knows that. What people didn’t know is that the restraining order Jackson had against Stiles was dropped. There was some clause or subsection in there that rendered it null and void. No one noticed. If anyone asked the Sheriff he didn’t see the paperwork. He took six weeks off one summer to take Stiles to Poland to see his babcia, and relax a bit.

~

Lydia was a planner. Always has been and statistically speaking, always would be. She planned for the worst case scenario, best case scenario, for every possible weather event, and for every possible social event.

Of course she planned the Stilinski’s vacation.

Not that they needed to know that.

It was all a matter of subtle questions and asides. “Warsaw is great in the fall, but if you’re going in the summer Gdansk has beautiful beaches on the Baltic Sea.” Or, “Always stay in the 4th floor or higher Sheriff, much harder for people to break in, or for know-it-all kids to sneak out.”

And they were spending a three weeks in the countryside with the Stilinski family, so those all planned themselves.

~

Lydia had taken to “studying” together with Stiles for exams and worked on projects for classes they had together, and even some they didn’t. When it came to school related knowledge, there wasn’t much between them that they didn’t know, or couldn’t figure out. The arrangement was more of a way to keep Stiles on track, and from Lydia and the rest of the pack from worrying about him.

The supernatural residents of Beacon Hills had taken to discussing colleges, campuses, standardized tests, and scholarships at every turn with their senior year fast approaching. It not only helped normalize their lives but helped keep Stiles’ mind on safer subjects than they had been of late. No one would say Stiles was faring any worse than the others in his pack/friend group, but if pressed they might admit that he’d been faring longer which could be interpreted many different ways.

“Hey Lyds,” Stiles asked, up to his elbows in homework.

“Yes, Stiles?” Lydia replied, turning the page in her Chemistry textbook with a magenta nail.

“Do you know anything about packs in Poland? I don’t think it should be a problem really, but Dad wanted to have some extra intel but I can’t seem to find much. In English at least.” Stiles tapped his pencil to a rapid off-kilter beat Lydia was sure no one could hear but him. So she took out her phone to open up the already-drafted email with phone numbers, pack sigils, and border lines that had been sitting there for a little over a week now.

“Hello? Earth to Lydia did you hear –” Stiles’ phone made the whooshing noise of a lightsaber duel “Oh look, an email.”

Stiles spent the next several minutes engrossed in the contents of the email before shooting her a much more genuine smile than they’ve been seeing from him for the past while “Thanks Lyds.”

“You’re welcome Stiles.”

They returned to their chemistry lab work for 104 seconds, of course she timed it, before the staccato tapping stopped abruptly and Stiles looked up.

“How did you get all of this information?”

“I know people” was a mysterious enough response.

“OK that makes me feel better, at least it wasn’t a where but a who that I couldn’t find.”

“It’s not like you don’t have a ton of weird online contacts” Lydia retorted, finally looking up from the lab assignment.

“Lydia I’m not- I mean, I know-” Stiles huffed and dropped his pencil-drum stick “I don’t mean to sound self-depreciating Lyds” He leaned forwards across the table, leading with his amber eyes “I’m working on it, you know that, this is just a case of… I dunno… I don’t like not being able to figure a problem out on my own time.”

Lydia gave him a neutral expression, waiting for the other half of the sentence. The pack has been trying to give Stiles the spaces he needs to express his insecurities

“It’s easier to understand if there’s a deadline, or some other circumstances, but when there’s not… I just don’t like it Lyds it brings back bad feelings.” Stiles fell back into his seat across the table.

“That’s why you have me” Lydia picked up Stiles pencil and started writing on a sheet of loose leaf, upside down “We’re a team” T E A M she wrote in all caps. She added Stiles, also in all caps, connecting the E in Stiles into the E of team as if it were a crossword puzzle. Then added her name, connecting at the I, and Scott’s connecting at the S in Stiles. “We’re a pack.”

The next smile that Stiles offers up is small, but gives Lydia hope that he’s on track to get better.

~

When the Stilinskis arrive at the airport in Warsaw they grab their luggage and work their way through the terminal. Once they pass through security they see a very small, but very Polish lady, somewhere in her sixties or seventies it seems holding up a small whiteboard with STILINKSI written across it, black marker on clean white.

She apparently works for the hotel they’re staying at as a cabbie and she drove them to their hotel, free of charge. As they emptied the cab of their belongings, she outright refused a tip but gave John her card.

“Somehow I don’t think that lady was a cabbie” Stiles muttered, eyes following the driver down the road.

If either of the Stilinskis were a werewolf they would have heard her laughing “The boy is little clever” as she drove away.

~

The itinerary was that they would spend three nights in Warsaw, then head to Stiles’ babcia’s house in the countryside for three weeks. Then a week in the Northern parts of the country and the beaches at Gdansk, and the last eight nights in Warsaw again to see a bit more of the city.

Stiles loved Poland. He loved how old everything was and how much information there was for him to soak up. He was sure there was at least a half dozen papers’ worth of slightly-to-very off topic ideas here to submit for classes this fall. Write one teensy weensy insignificant economics paper on the history of circumcision and suddenly you have a reputation.

His dad loved being able to visit his mom and some cousins. Being fed until he felt like he would burst at any minute and there was nothing Stiles could say about it. He wouldn’t dare tell babcia not to feed his Dad. Certain types of wrath are best avoided altogether.

There were lots of veggies though, even if they were covered in cheese and cream sauces.

And if he’s honest Stiles’ Polish is more than a little rusty, and his extended family doesn’t speak that much English so it would be a futile effort either way.

His dad does let him have a bit of vodka (mixed with plenty of soda, thanks) when the other adults are pouring it like water. There may have been a few occasions where either Stiles or John went to take a glass of water from a jug in the fridge and ended up with a mouthful of the strong stuff, but no one else needed to know that.

The third night they spent in Warsaw on the tail end of the trip Stiles mentioned to his dad that he felt eyes on him all night and that he thinks they might have a tail.

“What are the chances that our tail has a tail?” John muttered to Stiles while pretending to peruse through some tacky souvenirs.

“See, this makes me wonder just how many criminals have secondary talents. But to answer your question… pretty likely.”

Stiles and the Sheriff take an early night.

~

Stiles emails Lydia later that night and tells her about the possibility of a supernatural stalker. He labels it “URGENT”. With the time difference he doesn’t expect a reply particularly quickly. Lydia hadn’t known about their cabbie riding in, but when Stiles described her Lydia assured him that she was from a friendly pack and had been asked by her Alpha to escort them safely to the hotel. Lydia said that it likely had to do with how many baddies could be in such a large building, especially if you don’t know the place.

“But how did she know to approach us Lyds? Did you send a picture?” Stiles had asked over Skype, settled into bed with the computer on his lap.

“No I sent some of your dirty socks,” Lydia replied while typing away on her computer.

“You what?!” Stiles arms flailed as he screamed, spilling his glass of water across his bed spread.

“It’s an extremely efficient method of communication for them.” Lydia of course wasn’t bothered in the least by the outbursts expected from Stiles.

“Lydia! You could have put us in danger!” That brought the strawberry-blondes’ attention to the screen.

“I would do nothing of the sort.”

“Do you trust your so-called contact with your life Lydia? Are you mad?”

“Stiles we both know there’s no correct answer to that question.” Stiles was about to rebut her response, “BUT,” she continued, “I do trust my contact with your life, and your fathers’. Your scent was given to a select few of the most important werewolves in Warsaw, and then promptly burned, all under my watch.”

Stiles had grumbled to that response. Lydia was right in that there was no correct answer, but that was a pretty damn impressive one.

Stiles’ phone beeped with an incoming email. From Lydia.

Don’t worry, I charged him with tailing you. If it makes you feel any better you’ve already met him. Somewhere.
<3
Lydia

~

The rest of the vacation passed with relative ease. No homicides, robberies, or other misdemeanors occurred to write home about.

John hadn’t exactly been happy to hear that they had a tail, even if it was for their safety, but was rather pleased with himself that he’s noticed.

When Stiles got back from his vacation, he found a parcel wrapped immaculately in silver paper, with gold ribbon. Inside was a small cross-stitch, nothing too complicated, just black, red, and grey thread over a plain white background.

Damn Lydia, Stiles thought, just when I thought I had you figured out.

He texted her: Scott’s name is crooked

Just like his jaw then huh? Was the almost instantaneous reply.

Leave it to Lydia.

~

The first day of senior year had a few constants.

Stiles drove his Jeep past Scott’s place and picked him and Isaac up for school. They all sat together at lunch. Erica, Boyd, and Allison joined the other three boys, but Lydia texted saying she was showing a transfer student around and that she wouldn’t make it.

The cafeteria still kinda sucked. The fries were cold, the water fountain still warm, and there was gum still stuck to the bottoms of the tables.

The last period of the first day of senior year had a few new things.

A new AP English teacher, as the result of the last one being a crazy bitch.

Stiles wasn’t one to crush on teachers, hospital staff, law enforcement officers, etc. Probably because he grew up knowing so many of them, and attempted to maintain some of his dignity in their presence, but this Mr. Ellis? Stiles might have had a bit of a brain boner for him. And the lack of seating arrangements. And the reading list - since he already read a few of them, he noted as the syllabi were passed around. The best thing, perhaps, was the class schedule.

“I understand that it is entirely acceptable, and likely expected, for me to stand at the front of the room and lecture at you every day.” Mr. Ellis walked slowly between the aisles as he talked. “And that because this is an AP classroom you would all be expected to adapt to that, and likely all succeed to some degree. Because you are indeed in this room for a reason. But that’s boring. Instead our schedule will be approximately as follows: Mondays are the days assignments will be due and readings will be assigned for the week. There will never be any sort of examination on a Monday if I can prevent it.”

Assorted ‘whoops’ and claps rang out among the students. Mr. Ellis merely raised a hand, now leaning against his desk, and the classroom fell silent again. That was a sign of a good teacher, at least to Stiles.

“Every other day of the week is fair game though” he continued, “and there will be nine ‘pop-quizzes’ throughout the semester, and never more than one in a week. There will be no midterm exam, just the quizzes and the final exam, of course. Tuesdays will be largely discussion based, so the reading from the previous week should be done by then if you expect to garner any points for participation. Wednesdays will be largely lecture based. Thursdays you have a much needed reprieve from myself. Finally, Fridays will be decided upon that day, depending how badly it looks like you all would rather be elsewhere.”

Mr. Ellis walked to the back of the room, but no one’s attention dare wavered from the front chalk board.

“As I said earlier I do not believe in forcing you to adapt to one method of teaching but rather give as many different opportunities as possible for you to thrive. That being said, assuming you do not bother the other students in my classroom the following may be permitted: sleeping, gum-chewing, texting, tweeting, sub-tweeting, reading from the approved reading list, doodling, working on assignments for other classes and, of course, paying attention to the lecture or discussion at hand. So instead of adapting, I am letting you know now, on the first day of class, that I expect you to be extremely prepared when you walk into this room. Participating in discussions will be fifteen percent of your grade. The nine quizzes will be three percent each. The final exam will be another thirty percent, and the due dates for the four papers of seven percent each are also included in your syllabus.”

Through the entire monologue not a peep was heard. Stiles had the urge to somehow over the course of the semester impress this particular teacher, and he could tell the same thought was running through several others’ minds.

“Now onto the reading list. The two required pieces are The Grapes of Wrath, and Othello. Copies for everyone are on reserve in the library. We will be discussing these together in class. You also will choose two of the following four pieces to do a less deep study on, and we will discuss these in groups. Your choices are Pride and Prejudice, Hamlet, The Hunger Games, and the memoir Night. As well you will choose two more books that will each have one of your four papers written on, from the remaining fourteen books, plays, and other pieces listen on your syllabi. You must submit to me in person, by Friday, a list of the books you have chosen to read. The next two days will be lectures on poems and there will not be a quiz this week.” Mr. Ellis then chose to walk to the font of the room and leaned once more upon the large wooden desk. “Now, we have about thirty minutes remaining in this class, so if you would like, you are all excused to go to the library and pick up your literature. If you do not return by the end of class, I will assume that the lines to check out books were very long and I won’t begin to lecture. But before I excuse you to silently ‘go to the library’ are there any questions?”

Stiles’ hand shot up like a rocket.

“Yes Mr. Stilinksi? Is that the correct pronunciation?”

“Yes sir. I was wondering if you will continue to use air quotes throughout the semester or if this was a one-time deal today?”

“I cannot guarantee them every class but if they enhance your learning I’ll see if we can’t manage them now and again. Any other questions?”

Stiles smirked at the answer he received, AP English might be his favorite class this term. Someone else must have raised their hand because Mr. Ellis pointed to the back corner and said “Yes, Mr. Whittemore?”

Whittemore? As in Jackson Whittemore? As in nasty-lizard-turned-extra-cranky-werewolf Whittemore? Stiles swore he have himself whiplash turning so fast to see the broad-shouldered blonde that had terrorized him for so many years.

“On some Fridays sports teams leave early for away games or meets, will that have any impact on the participation grades or quizzes?”

Of course he asks a good question too.

“I think that would be determined on a case-by-case basis Mr. Whittemore. If the absences coincide with too many quizzes or take away from too much discussion time then I may be able to create other ways to test your knowledge, or perhaps coordinate a mutually agreeable time earlier in the day for you to sit the quiz. But again, we can explore those options if the need arises. Now,” Mr. Ellis clapped loudly, “The sooner you all ‘go to the library’ the sooner I can go to McDonald’s because I missed my lunch break today. Now scoot! Silently!”

Stiles whipped out his phone to send a text to the group chat:

2:42 Sent Lizard-breath was in my AP English class 2day. Since wen is he back???

2:44 From Lydia: Oops

2:45 Sent: OOPS!?

2:46 From Derek: We discussed it while you were on vacation. Someone (Lydia) was supposed to be keeping you in the loop.

2:48 Sent: Was ther at least a vote??

2:50 From Scott: I votd 4 u buddy!

2:51 From Scott: Voted no for u :)

2:51 From Scott: We lost tho

2:51 Sent: Gee thx man

Stiles phone pinged with a few more messages but he couldn’t be bothered to read them. He headed straight to his Jeep.

To find said lizard-breath leaning against his drivers side door. Could the universe understand sarcasm and irony? Moments like these led Stiles to believe that yes, it could.

“Hey Reptar, how’s it going?” Stiles offered as he started his baby.

“I’m doing well Stiles, thanks for asking. How about yourself?”

“Really? No name calling, no death threats? Who are you and what have you done with the Godzilla we know and hate?” Stiles got into his car and only glared a lot at Jackson as he let himself in the passenger side. Stiles pulled out of the parking lot and headed home. Jackson could walk from there he decided.

Jackson turned to look at him after a few silent moments and asked “Can I apologize to you Stilinski?”

“I dunno Whittemore. Can you?” he retorted.

Jackson huffed. “I meant, would you let me apologize to you?”

Stiles kept driving until he pulled up next to his dad’s cruiser. “Sure. Go ahead.”

Jackson made no move to get out of the Jeep. Just stared straight ahead, as if they were still driving.

“I treated you like shit and I’m sorry for that.” Stiles went to open the door but Jackson continued, “I’d like to think, sometimes, that maybe it was a subconscious choice to take out my anger or other emotions on you because you could take it better. You were more resilient, and you gave as good as you got most days.”

Stiles unbuckled and moved to get out but Jackson placed a hand on his wrist as he reached for the door handle.

“I’m not quite finished. If you’d let me.”

Is he crying? Is Jackson Whittemore, crying, while apologizing to me?!?

“A few years ago, I know I said some really shitty things… about your mom. And that was not OK. I was an idiot a lot of the time, but those things were cruel.” He sniffled a bit, “You and McCall… I’m glad you had him around to cheer you up, a bit at least, back then. I bet he helped you out a lot. But he’s the lucky one. He’s so fucking lucky to have you around saving his ass, helping him in school, beating some sense into him….”

Jackson wiped his nose on his letter jacket, something Stiles never thought we would ever see.

“Lydia and I have been in contact more or less since I left. And at first when she mentioned you I thought it was mostly cause you were mixed up in all this crap, but mostly on the sidelines, or whatever, following McCall around. Then Lydia would talk about you, and McCall and Lahey and Allison, the same way she’d talk about Danny, like you guys were all friends. Which was fine, like I assumed you were all a ‘pack’ so that would kinda make sense, even if you were two grapes short of a fruit salad.” He paused, swallowing. “But some days she’s just go on and on and on about you. Without even noticing, every other sentence would be ‘Stiles figured this out’ or ‘I helped Stiles with that’ or ‘Stiles and I saw this movie’. You were, probably still are, her best friend. And I don’t even have to ask to know you’re still McCall’s main man.”

“Do you have a point there?” Stiles chuckled, “I’m all for sitting here taking compliments but I’ve got a show coming on at 3:30 I kinda wanna see.”

“Sorry,” Jackson said, sobering up, “I guess what I’m trying to say is… it would be nice to have a friend as awesome as you.”

“I don’t know what to say.” Stiles replied honestly.

“I’d just ask that you treat me fairly. Whatever that means for you.”

Stiles buckled back in and started his baby up again “Well, I can at least drop you off at your car then.”

Chapter Text

Tuesday was much the same as Monday was for Stiles. Driving his friends to school. Finding himself stuck between bored and anxious with his morning classes. Lunch with the pack. Which still didn’t seem to include Jackson, even if Lydia was around today. But as he suffered diligently through his afternoon classes his mood improved as the thought of AP English moved forward in his brain.

True to his word Mr. Ellis did lecture on some poems. Ozymandias and Death be Not Proud. It was obvious Mr. Ellis enjoyed the pieces. Near the end of the period Stiles raised his hand.

“Yes Mr. Stilinski?”

“Is the reading list a list of your favorite books?”

Mr. Ellis’ facial expression was unreadable.

“Are you accusing me of favoritism, Mr. Stilinski?”

“Yes. I think I am.” Stiles smirked, earning a few laughs from his classmates.

“Then I’d accuse you of being correct.” Mr. Ellis had a faint smile as he replied.

The bell then took the opportunity to assault the sensitive ears of the students and Mr. Ellis took back his seat and attempted to remind the class about the readings for tomorrow.

“Mr. Stilinski, can I speak with you a moment?”

Stiles was a bit shocked. He didn’t think his joke was too unprofessional for a high school English class. But it wouldn’t be the first time his mouth got him in trouble.

“Of course” Stiles replied, sitting on a front row desk, “What’s up?”

“Ms. Morell has given me a list of all the students in my classes who have rather demanding extra-curricular activities.” The teacher’s hands tented as he paused, making strong eye contact that Stiles couldn’t help but shiver away from. “Your name was on that list. So I wanted to let you know that should you be away from class or need an extension on a due date that if you’re able to provide proper, ah, testimony we should be able to work out a compromise.”

“Okay,” Stiles stood hesitantly, lifting his backpack onto his shoulder, “Gee thanks teach, but I don’t really see how bench-warming for the lacrosse team will be too demanding.”

“I’m working on putting together a debate team as well, if you’re interested Mr. Stilinski. Miss Martin has already agreed to join if I can get the paperwork put together in time.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Have a good rest of your day, sir” Stiles replied as he left the classroom.

“You as well Mr. Stilinski.”

~

“That was kinda creepy” Jackson materialized about of nowhere as Stiles got to his locker. The hallways already rather empty after last period.

“Not as creepy as you.”

It really said something about Stiles how he was only mildly surprised by a werewolf sneaking up behind him.

“Do you think he knows about us?”

“How we’ve been arch enemies since kindergarten and spent most of our teen years loving the same girl? Nope I don’t think he does.” Stiles finished switching out the books he wanted to take home (he really did want to impress Mr. Ellis, especially he could use that advantage to captain the debate team, with college applications coming up soon).

“I meant about-”

“No Jackson I don’t think he knows about your time of the month” Stiles muttered as he stalked toward his Jeep. Jackson kept a half step behind him on his non-backpacked shoulder.

“What was with you creeping outside the classroom anyway?” Stiles asked as he tossed his bag across the driver’s seat onto the passenger side.

“Looking out for a pack member dude.”

Stiles stared hard into Jackson’s eyes.

“Look” Jackson continued, as he leaned against the baby blue Jeep. “I know we’re not friends, and I know you don’t need anyone to babysit you. I just also know it’s nice to have someone looking out for you and you’re usually the guy looking out for anyone else so I thought I could return the favor. Besides, it’s not like BHHS has had the best luck with staff over the few years.”

“Well you’re definitely right about that.”

Jackson moved away from the vehicle “Catch ya later man.”

“Or something” Stiles muttered as he started up Roscoe.

~

AP English quickly became Stiles’ favorite class. Despite his love of the logic and reason, Mr. Ellis seemed to manage to wrestle his ADHD-plagued brain into comparative cooperation. Lecture days were never the most exciting but even 65 minutes of Shakespeare wasn’t too awful. And it was kind of hilarious how badly his teacher had a hard on for Macbeth.

The third Wednesday of the semester they had their first pop-quiz.

That was his single reservation about the class. Unexpected learning assessments weren’t his forte. However when he got his copy of the quiz he saw that the first few questions were rather reasonable. They tested if the readings really had been done from last week; asked which characters (if any) had died so far in the pieces they were reading as a class. All very fair multiple choice ones that would be next to impossible to get wrong if you had done the readings. Stiles thought that agreed well the expectations that had been set down on their first day: to come to class prepared.

After filling in the bubbles he saw the next page had several “list X number of points that prove/deny the following statement” type questions. Again, simple since he had in fact done all the readings (and then some) and took some simple notes during class. Mr. Ellis made it kind of easy to notice when he was going over something he planned on testing.

The final page held a single long answer question: Discuss the importance of the titles of any of the pieces of literature on the reading list (minimum of 2 poems/short stories/novels/plays up to a maximum of 4). And for 20 points. In comparison to the eight points on the first page and twelve on the second.

Looks like we’re playing hardball now huh teach?

Mr. Ellis let them use 60 minutes and after receiving all the completed quizzes he told them to be prepared for Friday’s class and that there would be no tolerance for being unprepared.

~

Jackson didn’t have quite the brain boner for Mr. Ellis that Stiles and some of the other students did but he appreciated him a lot. He thought the first pop quiz was fair. The work load was lighter than some of the other AP classes (definitely lighter than the AP English block that Lydia and Danny had together) but not entirely easy. He definitely appreciated how straight-to-the-point his teacher was.

He wasn’t 100% sure what Mr. Ellis had meant when he said for everyone to be prepared for Friday but he brought some of his reading and basically always had his Spanish book with him to practice conjugating verbs. He definitely didn’t expect to see his favorite teacher absolutely lose his cool though.

As the class filed in for the last period of the day before the weekend they were handed back their quizzes. Jackson was pleased to see he got a perfect score, and by the not-at-all subtle squeals some of the other students were making so did they. He wasn’t competition for valedictorian really, but good grades were important. Not only to himself, but Derek had made a point of expressing his agreement with that sentiment at every pack meeting they had since the start of August.

“Alright everyone take your seats” Mr. Ellis started, “today will be a self-driven block. I will be here if you would like to discuss your quiz marks but it will be up to you to make the most of the hour we have today.”

The next voice came out of nowhere.

People always raised their hand in Mr. Ellis’ classroom. Always. He never asked them to per say, but it was heavily implied.

“So we’re just gonna waste an entire block!?” Jackson didn’t know the kid, and was very thankful because he would feel awful for any friend of his if they were on the receiving end of the glare Mr. Ellis shot him.

The room was purposefully silent for a long moment. The other students didn’t dare move. Even without heightened senses they could probably feel the electricity in the air. Their teacher, usually business casual with a more carefree attitude about fashion looked dark as a storm cloud in his navy button down and silver pinstriped slacks. Jackson could tell his silence was to make the kid squirm in his seat.

When he did speak it was unnaturally calm.

“I’m sorry Mr. Bannister, did I hear you say I was going to waste an entire block?”

“I didn’t mean it in that way, sir.”

“So I take it you did not come prepared for today.” The question fell flat. Like it was already answered.

“No sir. I mean yes, I-”

“Even after I stated at the beginning of term, as well as last class that you should be prepared the moment you step into my classroom?”

“Sir, I-”

“Well you obviously can’t participate in my class if you’re not prepared.”

Jackson saw the moment that the Bannister kid realized what was being implied.

“So this will cost you a third of your total participation grade Mr. Bannister.”

“What?!”

“As of today the best mark you can have in my class will be a ninety-five percent.”

“But-”

“Would you like to lose another third Mr. Bannister?”

“But I’m not the only one unprepared today sir!”

Jackson marveled at how the kid was still talking. Derek had a monopoly on murderous-eyebrow-glares, but wow, the look Mr. Ellis had could strip paint clean off a wall.

“Mr. Stilinski,” the glare never left Bannister, “what did you plan on doing this block?”

From his spot near the front Stiles pulled out a comfy-looking travel pillow from his bag “Well, I got a hundo on my quiz so I was gonna have a little victory nap.” His smirk almost made Jackson laugh out loud.

“What about you Mr. Whittemore?”

“I’m hoping my headphones can drown out Stilinski’s snoring.” Jackson heard the beginnings of a laugh from behind the hand Stiles had firmly clamped over his mouth.

“Is anyone else unprepared?” Mr. Ellis asked the room at large. “Then that will be all Mr. Bannister” he walked to the door and held it open “We will see you on Monday, hopefully better prepared.”

Bannister was red as he grabbed his things and left. That wholly embarrassed color that’s obvious to anyone.

“Now,” Mr. Ellis continued, after closing the door. “If you have any questions about your test grades please make an orderly line.” He sat behind his desk. “The class average was a ninety eight so there will be no re-dos, no extra points et cetera et cetera. What you got is what you got.”

A few kids stood to line up but the majority of the class remained in their seats. Some pulled out books or other school work. Jackson noticed that Stiles was already out like a light.

~

As Jackson headed to the parking lot from class Stiles hurried behind him, his bed head hair flopping in the breeze.

“Wait up dude!” He shouted as they left the double doors.

So Jackson stopped. Waited until Stiles had a very firm grasp on his right bicep and began talking a mile a minute.

“Holy Batman! Did you see the look on that kids face?! I haven’t seen someone that red since I walked in on Scotty…” he trailed off, making vague hand gestures that would indicate Stiles walked in, on McCall getting off.

“I’m glad you have something else to add to your weird spank bank Stiles.”

The gangly teen all but fell off of Jackson as he proceeded towards his car

“Nonononono that’s not my thing I’m a little more of a bound and gagged kinda guy.” Stiles responded as he tried to catch up in the semi-crowded lot.

Some mental imagery I definitely did not need.

“I think you’re right though” Stiles continued, as his left hand returned to its new home of Jackson’s bicep.

Jackson gave him a look that said, go on.

“I don’t think teach knows about the pack. But, I do think he knows something. Or more specifically, is something.

“You felt that too?” Jackson asked.

“Yeah. It reminded me of when Derek goes all Alpha-shit on someone.”

Well now that you mention it… Jackson had to agree.

Stiles seemed content with the nodding he got in return. And apparently they were now standing in front of the Jeep. Stiles made a “get in” motion. 15 minutes later they were at Derek’s loft sans the rest of the pack but describing the encounter with their Alpha.

~

Jackson took a seat on the sofa in front of the modest TV. Derek and Stiles were standing at opposite ends of the coffee table. One his right Derek was an unmovable object, on his left Stiles was an unstoppable energy. Usually they agreed on things, if not some of the more trivial details at least they agreed on end goals. The big picture. But this was not one of those times.

“Stiles he could be dangerous,” Derek argued.

“Well he’s our English teacher and we have a quiz next week so it’s not like we have much of a choice but to see him for 260 minutes per week” Stiles countered. He was obviously annoyed that Derek though this was a big deal.

“Of course you can! You can skip class. Say you’re sick, and have your dad pick you up early.”

“That’s ridiculous! It’s my favorite class. And I have a perfect score right now so I don’t really wanna mess that up.”

“Your life if more important that your English class Stiles!” Derek roared back.

“Wait just a sec,” Jackson felt petty for interrupting but he had to ask, “How do you know we have a quiz next week?”

The look Derek gave him was of utter fascination. He was fascinated that Jackson was more interested in a quiz date than the well-being of his pack.

“There are 20 weeks in each semester and we didn’t have a quiz the first two and we probably won’t have any in the final three weeks since grades need to be submitted and that’s extra marking. That leaves fifteen weeks which is fourteen with this one down. There’s also the fall break and probably the week before since Mr. Ellis seems like a nice guy and we already have a paper due the day before break. So that leaves us with twelve weeks and eight quizzes so I’m thinking that there’s a break week after two consecutive quiz weeks and it won’t be the week after since it would land on a Monday and he doesn’t quiz on Mondays.”

By the end of the long, yet terrifyingly accurate sounding explanation Stiles looks much calmer. And Derek looks exasperated and resigned but also less angry with Stiles disregarding his own safety.

Jackson stood and walked over to Stiles, putting his arm across the other teen’s shoulders, effectively drawing some of the stress out of his scent.

“So to summarize this ‘discussion’” Jackson used finger quotes with his free hand, “We’re mostly sure our teacher knows something about the supernatural world and that there is a possibility he isn’t fully human or is in contact with someone who isn’t fully human.” Derek gave him a stiff nod. “So we proceed with caution. Keep alert but not paranoid. If Mr. Ellis is supernaturally inclined he has been polite and subtle telling us that. So I say that shouldn’t be points against him, even if it isn’t favorable. Can we agree on that?”

Jackson looks pointedly at Stiles, since everyone in the room is aware he’s the only one who’s likely to keep arguing.

“Yeah, sure.” Stiles walked from under the arm Jackson still had across his shoulders and rubbed his knuckles across Jackson’s front as he moved to grab his backpack he tossed unceremoniously onto the couch upon his arrival.

“I’ll talk to the rest of the pack” Derek said. Not a dismissal, but it was clear that they were now free to go.

Chapter Text

Besides English with Stilinski, Jackson had Spanish with McCall, Algebra with Lydia and Danny, Physics with Danny, and a spare block which he uses to swim. He hadn’t had the opportunity to play lacrosse while he was abroad, but took up swimming while he was there and he made captain of the BHHS swim team during after tryouts in September.

He had found that swimming was an easier way to control the shift while competing, and having adrenaline coursing through his veins. The water could mask some small changes such as claws versus fingers if his control slipped. As well, the smell of chlorine is consistent and permeates everything from the water, to the change room, to his towel and speedo. The water also dulled the sounds of the crowd to a much more manageable level and in an empty pool (like most of his free periods) the consistent slow clapping of water against the walls of the pool has an almost therapeutic effect.

The other consistency he found was lunch. He sat more or less with the group/pack each day, but since there was eight of them and six person tables he always sat on Lydia’s left, and she had yet to miss a lunch period. Danny generally didn’t sit with him anymore, unless it was just him and Lydia, or if Allison joined them. He wasn’t bothered by it. Danny’s too chill of a person to manage the phenomenon that is Stiles and Scott.

So when a boy sits next to the same girl every lunch, like clockwork, people start to assume they’re together. People meaning McCall. After seeing McCall look between him and Lydia and then back to Stiles, as if looking for conformation more than twenty times in one sitting he gently took Scott’s hand from across the table and explained to him that “No, we’re not dating McCall.” Jackson couldn’t decide if McCall looked more shocked by the fact that he was holding his hand or by what came out of his mouth.

“Are you sure?” McCall managed to stutter out.

“I think I would know if I was in a relationship with Lydia, I do have some experience in that regard.” Stiles didn’t hold back his laughter, as he clutched his stomach. He patted McCall on the shoulder.

“Scotty-boy, I think it’s safe to say you’re not interested in men by how you reacted to Jackson holding your hand.”

Scott looked almost offended.

“I’m not homophobic Stiles. You of all people would know that. Who knows? Maybe I just haven’t found the right guy yet.”

“Sure thing Scott you just keep telling yourself that.”

Any retort McCall might have had was drowned by the bell and Jackson quickly left the cafeteria for Algebra. He had lots to think about.

Focusing on math seemed like a Herculean feat after that debacle during lunch.

Jackson had known he was vaguely interested in men for a few years. He had told Lydia when they dated. She was fine with it but stressed very heavily that he would for absolutely no reason break up with her for a guy because “Everyone would have to support you coming out Jackson, myself included. And it would make me look like an absolute fool to have dated a gay guy, because we both know people still don’t understand bisexuality and it’s 2016 for crying out loud. And if you humiliate me I will castrate you. Comprende?”

He had told Danny as well. Which was part of why their friendship was, and still is, so solid. Whenever he had gotten into a major fight with Lydia, Danny would come over with some low fat froyo and they would watch whatever sports were current that didn’t involve men wearing shirts. That’s how he developed an appreciation for Russian gymnasts, and more recently, British swimmers and divers.

What McCall had said still rung in his mind. You of all people would know that, is what he said. Jackson knew McCall wasn’t a homophobe since him and Danny got on fine. Stilinski was the same; not particularly nice but very rarely cruel, and never without reason. But Stilinski ….

On one hand McCall could have just meant that Stiles knows him so well that he shouldn’t have to spell out his sexuality to Stiles, or that it’s been a discussion topic at some point earlier time in their lives. Which makes sense. Those two have spent more time together than some couples married for fifty years. So McCall’s response seemed a bit too serious given that he’s sure Stiles meant what he said as a joke. So that was one possibility given the odd nature of their relationship.

On the other hand McCall might have meant that Stilinski, that Stiles, isn’t straight. So he might be gay, or bi. Maybe even pansexual, or transgender. Jackson couldn’t be sure which but it still sounded like McCall knew Stiles wasn’t the straightest arrow in the shed. Which didn’t bother him at all, not in the slightest. But considering his very fragile acquaintanceship with Stilinski, Stiles as he now calls him on occasion, he’s worried that it’ll affect their relationship. He doesn’t want Stiles to feel like he couldn’t talk about it, if he wanted to. Luckily he sat a few rows behind Stiles in English so he probably wouldn’t notice if he was acting out of sorts.

~

A few days later, Jackson still wasn’t sure if Stilinski was ‘queer’ and the topic hadn’t been breached but he had grown more settled with it. Stiles didn’t seem bothered by the conversation so he let it be.

As Jackson left the riveting discussion around globalization and the dirty thirties in relation to The Grapes of Wrath in AP English he found his mood to be quite pleasant. It was a Friday. He was out of class on time, and he was going to watch McCall, Lahey, and Stilinski play lacrosse from the stands later with the girls. There was pizza for lunch in the caf, and it wasn’t even cold. It was just a good day all around, and he found himself grinning as he walked to drop his stuff in his car.

“Hey faggot,” some skater kid wannabe called out, “Martin finally dump your ass when she smelled cock on your breath? Or was it when you bent over and she could see your uvula through your ass?”

Jackson didn’t even have time to respond before the punk was shoved into the lockers by a pair of broad shoulders. The thump was almost loud enough to muffle the squeal that came from the skater kid.

Finstock burst out of the classroom across the hall. “What’s going on out here?! Stilinski! Why is this the back of this kid’s head being acquainted with a poor defenseless locker?!”

Stilinski? Damn he really filled out.

Holding the other kid up against the lockers with one hand he failed through his explanation with the other. “Coach, this kid,” gestures wildly at the kid, “was insinuating that people,” Stiles gestured vaguely at Jackson, “who don’t necessarily identify as heterosexual are beneath him and used some very inappropriate words that do not belong in an institute of learning.”

Leave it to Stiles to make it sound like we’re in Hogwarts.

Finstock grabbed the kid by the scruff of the neck from Stiles’ grasp.

“Well then, this little cretin should have plenty of fun. In detention. Washing all the towels in the locker room. Come along, cupcake.”

As Finstock drug him away he hollered back “Stilinski!”

“Yes Coach?” Stiles paled, likely just now realizing that he could very well be in trouble for what he just pulled.

“Let’s see if we can’t get you on first line this year. If you can handle punks like these,” he shook the kid in his grasp, “you can probably handle some game time. Now get lost you two!”

“Yes Coach,” Jackson and Stiles replied.

Stiles adjusted his backpack and headed towards the doors.

“Stilinski.”

Stiles threw a backwards glance, and waited as Jackson caught up to him.

“You didn’t have to do that, but thanks.”

Stiles smirked. “No problem man,” he replied, swinging his arm over Jackson’s shoulder. “It was fun.” They headed out the doors into the parking lot. “So how about milkshakes? I’ve got half an hour to kill before practice starts.”

“Shakes sound good.” As Stiles sauntered off towards his Jeep Jackson called over, “Leave your bag in there and then hop in. We can take the Porsche.”

“Ooh a hot date kinda shake. Yes please Mr. Darcy!”

Jackson scoffed. “Apparently Mr. Ellis isn’t the only one with a troubling addiction to Austen.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Stiles teased.

~

They got their shakes, strawberry for Stiles and chocolate for Jackson. Jackson insisted on paying, he went as far as leaning across the counter to more effectively schmooze the lady in her mid-thirties that was at the register so she would take his Visa instead of the crumpled bills Stiles held out. Then they hopped back in the Porsche.

“Let’s go for a drive,” Jackson offered.

“Sure.”

For the first few minutes the only sounds were of the newest pop hits and slurping on straws.

“Wait!” Stiles almost dropped his shake all over the pristine leather seats as he turned to face Jackson “Is this a date?!”

Jackson turned his eyes back on the road and placed his right hand on Stiles’ forearm.

“If I were to take you on a date Stilinski, you’d be the first to know.” Stiles looked at him dubiously. “No Stiles, it’s not a date. I was thinking of it as one friend taking another friend out for milkshakes to celebrate their victory over the homophobic assholes in this town.”

That earned him a broad smile.

“Well then thank you, Jax.”

They sat in a more comfortable silence for a few minutes as they cruised around town.

“You could, you know” Stiles stuttered out, “Like you could, like only if you wanted of course, take me on a date. I’m into, or at lease open to, dating dudes. I think. It’s not like I’ve ever dated a guy, or even a girl really, before but like I guess I’m open to the idea? I mean, there are some really attractive people of the male persuasion-”

“Take a breath there Miss Bennett.” Jackson smiled, “I get it. You’re not straight as an arrow, but not sure which way you’re pointing either.”

“Yeah that’s a good way to put it,” remarked Stiles as he diverted his gaze out the window, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks. As if Jackson couldn’t smell and feel the discomfort radiating off of Stiles.

“That was really brave of you to share Stiles. I’m glad you felt like you could tell me that.”

“You sound like my therapist Jax.” Stiles hazarded a glance back at him, “But yeah I guess we’re kinda friends now. Solidified over shakes.”

“I can roll with that.” He let the silence sit for a bit. “In the spirit of friendship I’ll also say that I’m not opposed to dating dudes. Probably somewhere on the bisexual spectrum. It’s been more ‘noticeable’ since being a wolf though.” He made air quotes with one hand while turning into the school parking lot.

Stiles practically crawled into his lap. “Are you saying that all werewolves are just a little bit gay?”

“Stiles get off of me I’m trying not to crash my car” he replied pushing him back into his seat, “I’m saying it’s easier to appreciate some characteristics when you have more advanced senses. Like people that naturally smell good to you.”

“That’s really interesting.” Stiles drummed his fingers on the dashboard of the car.

“Please don’t write a paper on it for Finstock” Jackson pleaded, as they pulled back into the school lot.

“No promises” Stiles winked as he hopped out of the muscle car and off towards the locker room.

~

Watching sweaty boys run around and do drills wasn’t exactly the most riveting thing for Lydia to do on a Friday afternoon but she also liked to keep a close eye on everyone in her friend group so it was an easy compromise to make for ninety minutes every Friday. Days where the boys actually got to scrimmage could be interesting but most of the time Lydia used that timeslot to outlines papers, review notes, and keep up on the latest gossip. Allison didn’t often stick her nose in other people’s business but Reyes was surprisingly fun to trade stories with. Plus she could often hear some of the things from the boys on the field that Lydia wanted to know but couldn’t pick up.

Today she was outlining a paper for AP History. Her and Allison were working on ideas while Reyes and Jackson chatted about the team. Jackson commented on skills and play style while Reyes’ contributions were about how nice their butts looked in fitted pants.

“Really, it’s a shame Scott doesn’t wear tight pants all the time because-”

Reyes’ commentary stopped abruptly with a gasp that belonged in horror films. Or the lives of supernatural teenagers.

Since Reyes often gasped when someone took a hard hit Lydia didn’t pay much attention to it. But what grabbed her attention was Jackson’s not-very-subtle growl. She whipped her head to see Jackson’s beta eyes glowing a fierce blue. He didn’t have the mutton-chops or the claws out yet but his control was obviously tumultuous at the moment. Turning to look at the field she saw Stiles spread-eagle on his back. And it didn’t look like he was getting up.

Scott had obviously abandoned all pretenses of not having super powers cause as he sprinted to his best friend’s side. Isaac was standing close to where Scott was now kneeling looking absolutely lost. Lydia surmised that he wasn’t used to taking care of people who weren’t injured in non-supernatural settings. Boyd looked absolutely murderous holding onto his stick like he wanted to break it over the culprit’s head.

Reyes already had her phone out and was calling 911 “H-hi we need an ambulance… the high-school, BHHS… lacrosse practice. One of the guys got hit and he’s not getting up….”

Jackson was fuming down the stairs with Allison close behind. Lydia hurried to catch up to Jackson. She dug her nails into the meat of his left bicep.

“Jackson,” she murmured, “You can kill the kid later. Right now being calm will help the situation more than being vengeful.”

He didn’t respond but she took the low rumbling growl as confirmation that he would at least wait until the witnesses cleared out before he took off after the kid.

Since no one else was capable of taking control often situation, Lydia decided that she had better pick up the slack.

“That seems like enough practice for one day huh Coach?” She called out. Hands on her hips. Giving Finstock her patented ‘I’m right and you better agree fast’ glare.

“Hit the showers you losers!” he shouted into his megaphone.

She walked up to him and snatched it out of his hands and throwing it towards the benches. “Stiles probably has enough of a headache without that now doesn’t he?”

It seemed like most of the on-lookers had dispersed. Jackson, Boyd, and Isaac looked at each other and then back to Stiles before marching off to the locker room to dole out some ‘justice’. Seeing that Stiles wasn’t responding to anything Scott said turned the beta from acceptably nervous to unacceptably frantic.

“Scott” Lydia ordered, “Why don’t you and Erica go and meet the ambulance. She already called and it should be here soon. Make sure they bring the back-board.” Scott took one last look at Stiles before retreating towards the parking lot.

“Allison, can you hold his head steady?” Lydia asked. Allison went and lied belly down on the ground and set her elbows firmly and gently wrapped her fingers around Stiles’ helmet. First-aid was a good skill to have.

“Coach, I trust you can deal with the ambulance when it gets here? I need to phone the Sheriff.”

Finstock looked somewhere between terrified and awed, which is normal, so she walked a ways off to make the call.

“Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department, Deputy Rosa speaking” answered a gruff voice.

“Hi, this is Lydia Martin, can you patch me through to the Sheriff, Stiles took a nasty hit in lacrosse practice and he’s headed to the hospital.”

The deputy’s voice changed from unimpressed to professional immediately, “Of course, just one moment miss.”

“Sheriff Stilinski” John muttered.

“Hi, it’s Lydia, Stiles took a nasty hit at practice just now and an ambulance is just pulling up to take him to Beacon Hills Memorial.” She could see the blue and red lights easily from the side of the field.

“Is he alright?” the concerned voice came through the phone.

“He’s breathing and conscious, but not very responsive” she replied succinctly.

“OK I’ll meet the ambulance at the hospital. Thanks for the call Miss Martin” he replied and hung up.

Lydia didn’t waste any time following the ambulance out of the parking lot. With Allison, Scott, and Erica in tow. She knew the rest of the boys would be able to take care of themselves.

~

Jackson was furious.

A part of his pack was hurt. A human part of his pack was hurt, no less. That meant it was all bets off. No holding back. Someone. Must. Pay.

He let Boyd and Isaac lead the way inside. After turning a few corners in he could see the bastard who Stiles shoved into the lockers earlier. And he looked smug.

“Hey twinkle toes. Where’s your boyfriend?” he teased.

Jackson didn’t bother replying with words. He just punched. Luckily the kid stumbled back a bit over someone’s shoes because Jackson wasn’t sure how much he held his strength back.

The punk was quickly backed into a corner. Unknowingly surrounded by super-strong werewolves.

“Stiles is in an ambulance on his way to the hospital right now. If he isn’t in perfect condition tomorrow, you’ll be meeting him there” Jackson growled out.

“Dude I didn’t even hit him that hard. He’s probably just being a pussy.” The brat smirked.

“Accidents do happen. Right Boyd?” Isaac purred. He was leaning against one wall, deadly blue eyes set on the kid’s throat.

“You know Isaac, I think I saw him slip in the shower. Cranked his head on the handle. Left him with a black eye.” Boyd replied.

“Yeah too bad huh. I bet he took a couple good hits on the field today too.” Isaac returned. “Probably has a bunch of bruises.”

Jackson moved forward until there wasn’t an inch of space between him and the kid, or the kid and the wall.

“Stiles is very important to a lot of people. Lydia’s on the prom committee. You won’t be attending any dances. Erica’s a gossip. I heard you just got the clap. Allison is doing your year of the yearbook. You won’t be in it. His father is the Sherriff. And us, well, we’re just the dumb jocks.” Jackson cracked his knuckles. “Your life will be hell if Stilinski isn’t out of the hospital for Sunday brunch.

Jackson gave him one last shove into the lockers before storming out.

~

Lydia walked right past the reception desk of the hospital and the two ladies there that asked her to stop and check in. Lydia walked right into the almost closed elevator and pressed [3] for the general medicine wards and then the Door Close button so the receptionist that followed her couldn’t hitch a ride. Lydia walked down the hallway, took a left turn and went to the end of the hall to the room where she knew the Stilinskis always stayed since John was the Sheriff.

“How is he?” she asked, her voice rather small.

“Not too bad.” John looked tired, but more in a long day of work than emotionally worn down type of way. “The EMTs said his fingers and toes were all twitching away so no spinal damage. Possible concussion, but a minor one if anything.” John stopped to look at the purple bruises forming against the pale skin of Stiles’ throat. “Apparently when he got cross-checked and the butt of the stick got him in the neck so that’s probably why he wasn’t as responsive.” John chuckled half-heartedly “They’re guessing that between the dizziness and throat pain he's not up to talk much.”

“I didn’t see the hit, but it didn’t seem that bad. I’m glad it turned out to be nothing major.”

Lydia decided to take the seat opposite the Sheriff. A minute later Allison squeezed in beside her and Reyes sat on the arm of John’s chair.

The sharp turn of Reyes’ head, and the blonde curls that subsequent fell across her face gathered Lydia’s attention. Scott and Melissa McCall made their way into the now rather crowded hospital room.

“John,” Melissa said with a familial smile. The Sheriff gave her a nod and a slightly more tight-lipped smile in return.

“They gave him a really light sedative so he’d get some rest. Otherwise they’re just going to keep him overnight as a precaution. There’s no evidence of trauma other than the bruising on his neck but its protocol for anytime a minor has a head injury of any sort.”

The way Melissa’s holding herself suggests she’s not at all worried about Stiles, but rather John. He’s likely spent too many hours in hospital chairs for several lifetimes already.

“Can I take some of his pain, mom?” Scott asks.

“Some should be fine, but not all of it. If his throat is sore he should hold back on talking too much” she answered back. Scott moved to sit on the foot of the bed and took hold of Stiles’ ankle, the faint black lines stretching up his wrist for a few moments before dissipating.

Melissa then took a quick glance around the room “I’ll see if I can stop by later to check on you guys.” And then headed back to work.

Lydia pressed a soft kiss to Stiles’ temple before following her out.

~

When Jackson, Boyd, and Isaac got to the room Stiles was still sleeping. Erica and the Sheriff were seated at the bedside, chatting quietly as not to disturb him. Upon seeing Boyd, Erica swapped her position from the armrest to her boyfriend’s bicep. The Sheriff greeted him with a quiet “Vernon”. While it was obvious that the Sheriff was a pseudo-father for Scott at times, it was obvious that Erica was his favorite, and he had nothing but soft smiles and hair-ruffles for Isaac. Allison, Lydia, and Boyd got the more generic ‘you’re the friends of my son’ treatment. Jackson has only ever received the same “Mr. Whittemore” that most adults who know his parents gave him. Today being no exception.

Isaac took Erica’s vacated spot on the armrest while Boyd settled into the opposite chair, and Erica half in his lap with her knees hooking over the one side. Jackson took up some wall space near the door, feeling distinctly out of place.

“The doc doesn’t think Stiles has a concussion” Erica started, “but he’s gonna stay overnight for observation just in case. And Scott’s mom said we can take some of the pain but not all of it cause when Stiles wakes up she doesn’t want him to aggravate his throat anymore. The discomfort helps judge the healing.”

Hearing that Isaac snaked a long arm forward to snag Stiles’ hand and draw some teeny grey lines from Stiles’ still body.

“He’s not in much pain, mostly just discomfort” Isaac relayed to the Sheriff.

The room was quiet except for the constant whir of machines and dull chatter from people down the hall.

“I’m so sorry Sheriff, I meant to-” Jackson didn’t manage to finish before he was cut off.

“Did you do this to him?!” John was almost out of the chair before Isaac grabbed him arm in an aborted attempt to calm him

“No no no no no!” Erica nearly shrieked “He was sitting up with me and Lydia and Allison I swear.”

John allowed Isaac to pull him back into his seat. “Jackson went after the kid that hit Stiles. He would have broke his nose if the little bast-uh guy didn’t trip just as Jax swung at em.”

The Sheriff looked somewhat placated by that confession but Jackson was entirely shocked. The same reaction would have been expected, practically encouraged in his Sophomore year, but now, the idea that Stiles’ own father could believe that Jackson could willingly hurt a member of his own pack made him feel exceptionally small.

Jackson swallowed dry.

“I know the last time we spoke I was a punk kid who needed a serious attitude adjustment.” He couldn’t bear to look the Sheriff in the face. “I know I’m not perfect by any means, but- well- you know what happened before I left. And all through that mess, Stiles had my back. In the dumbest way possible but he did. And I have a lot of growing up to do to be as good of a guy as your son is Sheriff,” he actually managed a few seconds of eye contact before continuing, “I do have his back, regardless of his opinion on it.”

He could hear a pin drop.

Well, werewolves could always hear a pin drop.

But. It was a bit tense, to say the least.

John rose to his feet, “Well. I better get back to the office. You kids stay out of trouble.” Then with a nod and a ruffle of Isaac’s curls, he walked out of the room.

Jackson gave him a solid sixty seconds head start before fast walking out punching speed dial number two.

“Lydia,” he choked out “I think I’m in trouble”

Chapter Text

He had spent many, many hours instilling fear into people. Freshman, his parents’ assistants, generally anyone afraid of the money and influence he had access to. In the past months he tried to not do that as much, at least consciously. But the hard look in the Sheriff’s eyes when he accused him of putting Stiles in the hospital… tasting that same fear wasn’t something Jackson wanted to do again.

“Jax?” Lydia answered, “What’s wrong?”

“He- he-” Jackson stuttered, “Lyds he thought it was me.” He managed to breathe out.

“Jax honey I can’t understand what you’re saying” Lydia tried, the nervousness apparent even over the phone.

“He thought it was me! Lyds I said sorry because I was gonna tell him what happened and he thought I did it! He thought I did that to Stiles.” Jackson was almost to tears by the time he sat down next to his car.

“Jackson” she breathed out. “I know you would never-”

“And I-I-Isaac even said I didn’t b-b-but it didn’t look like he b-believed it” he managed to get out between sobs.

“Do you need me to come get you Jax?”

“N-no, I have my car.”

“Do you wanna come to my place? I can call Danny over too if you want.”

“N-n-no I’m g-gonna go see Der-rek” he hiccupped.

“Drive safe ok? Text me when you get there?” Lydia questioned.

“Ok.” He murmured back. Jackson pulled the phone from his ear and then hung up. He needed his Alpha.

~

The panicked heartbeat and clumsy steps only preceded the frantic knocking on this door by a second. Derek leaped from his armchair and over the sofa to the door of his apartment. In the two seconds he had to think Derek went from curious to worry. Generally his pack let him know beforehand if they were coming over so whoever this was must be in some sort of trouble.

Derek would have never guessed that the moment he pulled turned the deadbolt back he’s have his arms full of Jackson. He smelled like guilt and fear. Like hair gel and hospitals. Like salty tears.

He managed to close the door one-handed and get themselves sort of settled on the sofa. Jackson wasn’t loosening his grip for anything. So Derek placed one hand on the back of his beta’s head and pressed it even further into his neck and chest while making slow circles over his back with the other one.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Derek was sure he had no clue as to what upset Jackson. He could take any number of guessed about what would make him angry but sadness, especially overlaid with this much guilt, wasn’t something he would have suspected from his beta.

Jackson shook his head no, well as much as he could with the space he had.

“Do you wanna talk to someone else about it? I could call Lydia over.” More head shaking. “Or Stiles.”

Derek went from a three dimensional werewolf almost to two dimensional werewolf with how tight Jackson squeezed on hearing Stiles’ name.

“Did something happen to Stiles?!”

Jackson jerked his chin sharply up and down over his chest.

“Is he ok?” he got a softer nod from that. “That’s good. I’d like to check up on Stiles then. Can I call him?”

“Call Isaac” was the muffled response.

“Can we change up our positions so I can use my phone Jackson?”

~

While Derek was on the phone with Isaac, Jackson kept his nose firmly in his Alpha’s neck. He was sandwiched between Derek and the couch. And it smelled like pack. Pack is a good scent. Not like hospitals.

He didn’t bother trying to listen to the conversation his pack mates were having. Nothing he didn’t know already.

When Derek put down his cell he wrapped his other arm back around Jackson.

“It was a misunderstanding.”

Jackson knew that. He did. It just didn’t feel that way.

“He was defending me…”

“What do you mean? You’re not on the lacrosse team?”

“Before that” he muffled into Derek’s collarbone. “That guy who hurt him was beaking off at me in the hallway earlier. Being an asshole. So Stiles came from out of nowhere and shoved him against the lockers. Then coach came out and probably made him do laps or something until practice started.”

“So you think he was getting back at Stiles?” Derek asked.

“He was.” Jackson brought his head up to look his Alpha in the eyes “The little bastard was so smug looking. I wanted to take his head clean off.” He had no doubt this eyes were glowing blue.

They then moved into a sitting position, and Jackson took Derek’s arm and brought it over his shoulders, cuddling into his Alpha’s side.

“Part of me feels bad cause he got hurt for defending me, and it’s kinda dumb and I know that’s not my fault.” Jackson leaned his head against Derek’s “But the idea of hurting someone in my pack… it twists my guts it just feels so wrong.”

“I know buddy. It sucks.” Derek responded.

They sat in silence for a bit.

“Thanks for coming to see me Jax.”

Jackson squinted at the nickname “Don’t call me that Der-bear.”

“Fine” said Derek as he shoved Jackson onto the floor.

~

Stiles woke up rather sore. No sharp pains, but general achy muscles and a headache. He tried to sit up but there was an arm pinning his chest down.

“You’re not Scott” Stiles, sleepy-scratchy voice accused.

A flash of golden eyes answered him “No I’m much cuter.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. Much less effective in the dark it seems.

“Plus he had to help his mom sneak me in. Doc says you’re fine, just as addled as you were before, but not to talk too much cause you’re neck is bruised pretty badly.”

“S’ok” sleepy-Stiles confirmed, “Time for bed anyway.”

~

In the morning, the real morning mind you, not that fake-morning stuff where it’s still dark out, he woke up to his Dad and Melissa filling out the paperwork for his release.

“It’s already all been paid for John, nothing to worry about.”

Stiles could tell, as bleary-eyes as he was, that Melissa was pleased about whoever it was that paid the hospital bills. She knew as well as he did that money was in short supply for the Stilinski’s. They were never homeless, never had the power cut, but it was close some months.

“Was it that Hale kid? Melissa, I will gut him like a fish.” Apparently his dad wasn’t as cool with the whole generosity of others thing.

She put a soft hand on his forearm “No John, Derek had nothing to do with it. The parents of the kid who did it covered the tests, and the rest is standard with your insurance.”

“Let me talk to-” John tried to get out, but Melissa pushed him back into the chair.

“Mr. Swanson is on the school's board of trustees and Mrs. Swanson might be running for a city council position John, so on behalf of their homophobic delinquent son, they thought it was the least they could do.” Melissa countered.

Stiles thought his dad still looked upset, but the slick grin Melissa was sporting was evidence enough that she had won the argument.

“I may have also mentioned that the Station could use a new coffee machine” Melissa said fake-casually, as she headed out the door, “And that they give shiny plaques to anyone who donates more than five hundred dollars.”

Stiles’ snicker drew his dad’s attention.

“So, how are you feeling kiddo?”

“Not as good as your new coffee machines is” They shared a soft laugh. “I hope it makes a nice latte. Paying five bucks for one at Starbucks is highway robbery I tell you.”

Stiles glared at the finger his dad waved at them. “That coffee is for the hardworking people who protect this fine town! If you want five dollar coffees you can get a job.”

“I think it’s in good interests for kids to have good role models these days dadeo. Like those hard working folks you mentioned. Probably for the best to keep a kid like me off the streets and under their watchful eyes. Wouldn’t want me starting up a drug ring to pay for my caffeine addiction?” Stiles teased back

“Well then I better get my delinquent kid home before he gets in any more trouble.”

~

That rest of the Saturday was dubbed a Stilinski Man Day. Partly because the Sherriff was able to easily corral his tired son and because Stiles would be terribly bored without being allowed to use anything with a screen until Monday.

Once they sat down at the table with two short stacks from Stiles’ favorite diner, the interrogation began.

“I want the full story about how you got sent to the hospital kid. And don’t skip a single detail. Got it?” the Sheriff said as he poked a strawberry-speared fork at Stiles.

“Yeah, yeah, all the details” he started. “So on Fridays lacrosse starts at four thirty but school gets out like forty five minutes before that. And most of the team kinda hangs out around the field or does homework in the library. I was on my way to the library to meet Scott and whoever was gonna watch us practice.”

The way his dad’s head quirked meant that was a point to elaborate on. It was weird. Stilinski’s are weird. It’s a thing.

“Usually Allison watches the Wednesday and Friday practices and all the games because Scott.” The Sheriff gave a nod while continuing to chew on his pancakes. “Erica comes to all the games to watch Boyd and comes to watch practice on days Jackson comes too cause she gets bored easily. Lydia comes to every Friday practice and all the games but not usually other practice days unless she doesn’t have any pressing homework to do.”

Stiles was watching his dad’s expression go from easy acceptance, Scott has always been a predictable part of Stiles’ life, to a more reluctant understanding of the motivation of the rest of his friend group.

“And Jackson comes to watch games and practices that don’t interfere with his swim meets.”

“Wait a second” this time a poor, defenceless, grape was stabbed by the fork of intrigue “Jackson doesn’t play lacrosse anymore?”

“Nah. Apparently they didn’t have it in at the school he was at in England so he took up swimming, and he didn’t bother switching back since we have a swim team too.”

“So there’s no possible way he was the one who hurt you?” his dad took on a cautiously unconfident tone. But it was the words that caught Stiles’ attention.

“No! Absolutely not!” he screamed. “Lydia said the only reason that kid wasn’t in the hospital in the next bed over is cause she told Jackson she wasn’t allowed to maul him in front of witnesses!” he turned back to face his father. “And Melissa told you it was the Swanson kid or whatever this morning! You know it couldn’t have been Jackson so why this line of questioning?!” Stiles ended his rant with his hands widely gripping the small kitchen table, glaring daggers into his dad’s forehead.

“There was a minor misunderstanding while you were unconscious.” The Sheriff admitted reluctantly.

“Define misunderstanding.” Stiles demanded.

His father motioned for him to sit down, and then he wiped his mouth with a napkin before continuing.

“When he and Isaac, and Boyd arrived Erica gave them the rundown of what the doctor’s said. Isaac did some of the magic pain thing and whatever. Then Jackson started to apologize. In my worried old dad brain I thought he was the assailant.” His dad avoided eye contact, a patented Stilinski man maneuver to avoid being rendered guilty by the opposing party.

“Based on our past history and your joke about old dad brain I’ll forgive you that one.” Stiles bartered, “If, you gave him a very nice apology next time you see him.”

“Fair” his father replied. And stuck his hand out to seal the deal.

The Sheriff stood and said “Now while I clean up the table, you can tell me the rest of the story.”

Stiles moaned in fake incredulity “I guess so.”

“Like I said I was on my way to the library. I heard some guy saying some really awful things about Jackson. Like, both awful because they were homophobic, and awful because they he was trying to make him feel bad about himself. Soooo,” Stiles drew out, to get his dad’s attention. “This is where I ask for immunity cause I was already sent to the hospital.”

His dad stopped loading the dishwasher and crossed his arms “Granted for petty crime and bad language but not for theft or destruction of property.” He negotiated.

“Perfect!” was enunciated with his arms thrown up in the air. “So I shoved the kid into the lockers and was gonna give him a long lecture about why he was an idiot and should still be in grade school, but then coach came yelling out of his classroom and basically told me ‘Good job’ and probably made the kid run laps until practice started or something, I dunno. So then me and Jackson went and got shakes to solidify our friendship over refined sugars and the suppression of homophobic idiots.”

The Sheriff gave a huff of amusement. “And that’s the whole story?”

“Minus the parts where I went to the locker room and the beginning of practice yeah.”

“No it’s not Stiles. You always do that same thing where you exaggerate one detail to cover up the ones you’re not telling me.”

Stiles took his turn to cross his arms over his chest. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Why not?”

Stiles shot a glare out the corner of his eyes. “Because it involves emotions and other gross nasty things.”

“Which ones?” his dad sat down across from him, with soft eyes trying to coax a response out.

“Embarrassment.” He admitted, glaring at the wall.

“Did you spill your shake all over yourself?”

He gasped at the nerve of his dad to be kind of right.

“Well if you’re surprised that I guessed something right then there must be more too it, huh kiddo?”

Stiles eyes returned to focus on the wall. Not willing to budge an inch.

“Stiles, c’mon. Tell Tata what’s wrong.”

He gulped audibly.

“If I tell you, you have to promise not to keep digging. It’s bad enough as it is.” He croaked out.

“Scout’s honor” his dad replied, three fingers raised.

“I thought for a second we were on a date.”

The shock on his face was evident.

“I know right? That’s why I spilled my shake all over his Porsche.”

“I would have never expected it Stiles. A different werewolf sure, even saying Scott would have surprised me less.”

Stiles had to laugh at that. “Yeah we have a certain sort of chemistry.”

“So it wasn’t a date then?” The Sheriff inquired, doing his absolute best to remain casual about the possibility of his son going on a date with his childhood bully.

“I joked about it being a date initially because he said he would drive. I’m not sure if he really likes driving flashy cars or if he really doesn’t like Roscoe.”

“Are you telling me that there are people who don’t like your Jeep Stiles?” The Sheriff sounded very fake-offended at that remark.

“Shove off dad I know all right” Stiles replied with no real heat. “Anyway, he was really polite and insisted on paying and then I remembered that I joked about him being Mr. Darcy and then I dropped my shake. Being my clever and charming self I asked him outright if it was a date and then he said if it was a date I would be the first to know.

“He really let you read into that one huh?” The Sheriff leaded back in his chair, contemplative. “Definitely answered your question, but left plenty of room to insinuate that in the future there definitely could be a date.”

“Ugh! I know!” Stiles put his head in his hands “He’s the worst.”

“Good luck with that kiddo.” His dad rubbed his head in goodbye as he made his way over to the couch to find a baseball game to watch.

~

Lydia was doing some light reading when she saw Jackson’s name flicker across her phone.

“I’m in the middle of The Prisoner of Azkaban Jackson this better be important.” She said.

“What language?”

“Gaelic.”

Jackson juts chuckled on the other line.

“Did you want something?”

“Yeah… I might have done something really stupid.” Jackson intoned.

“Criminally stupid or emotionally stupid? Because I’m not posting bail for you.”

“I might have taken Stilinski on a date?”

“You don’t sound very sure about that” she replied, marking her page. Remus Lupin was a much less interesting werewolf than the ones she knew. “And he just got out of the hospital this morning. So I don’t know when you found time to take Stiles on Schrödinger’s date.”

“It was between school and practice yesterday.”

“I’m gonna need more details than that” she noted while checking her manicure for chips.

“The kid who cross-checked him was yipping at me in the hallway after last bell. Before I could tell him off, Stilinski already shoved him into the lockers and then before I could even say anything Coach Finstock came screaming out of his classroom and dragged him off by the scruff of his neck after Stiles said he didn’t belong in an institution of learning.”

“Sounds very Stiles-like. So then you asked him on a date?” She queried.

“No, then he said we should get milkshakes cause he can eat ten thousand calories a day and still be that skinny.”

Lydia cradled her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she moved to the kitchen island to peel an orange. “So no one asked anyone else on a date?”

“I know its weird Lyds, just let me finish the story.”

“Get on with it then.”

“I said we should take my car since his deathtrap terrifies me even with werewolf healing. So he called me Mr. Darcy, making a joke about our English teacher’s obsession with Austen. It was nothing. But then I spent the entire like, twenty minutes or whatever, treating him like we were on a date. I drove, I paid, I didn’t even get mad when spilled his milkshake.”

“None of that is out of the ordinary Jackson. You do the exact same things with Danny.” She huffed. Boys weren’t very bright most of the time.

“Yeah well Danny didn’t confirm he was into dudes while his crotch was covered in strawberry cream.” Jackson spat out, obviously getting annoyed with how little Lydia seemed to care.

“Oh.” Now that’s an interesting detail. “You said ‘he confirmed’ like you didn’t know he was interested in guys.”

“Well I didn’t” Jackson retorted, clearly on the defensive now.

“So you treating him like it was a date, plus learning halfway through that he was interested in men, plus him asking if it was a date made you think it could have been a date.” Lydia confirmed as she methodically removed all the little white bits from her orange segments.

“Yes” he confirmed, “And I told him I was bi.”

“I don’t think it was a date” she decided. “Because at least one person should be in the know for that to happen. But you now you want to take him on a date.”

“That’s probably accurate” Jackson relented.

“Of course it is.” Lydia picked up her book and settled back into the chaise next to Prada. “When you do take him on a date I expect to hear about it, the irony of this situation is not lost on me.”

Jackson huffed over the line, “Bye Lyds.” He said before hanging up.

Finally, foreign languages aren’t going to practice themselves.

Chapter Text

CHAPTER FIVE

In their rag-tag ‘pack’ as they call it, it’s obvious that certain people are much, much closer than others. For example, Stiles and Scott compared to anyone else and, well, anyone else. But Jackson is finding that he prefers Stiles’ company over most of the others.

He and Lydia aren’t together anymore but there is still that comfortable feeling from years of being around each other. Boyd is pretty OK in his books; quiet, but confident and generally not stupid. Scott has always been infuriating, for no specific reasons, their personalities just don’t agree at all. Derek is quiet but for all the wrong reasons; specifically withholding information, avoiding the more serious topics, and possibly Jackson assumes, because he’s supremely uncomfortable treating people like family after what’s happened to him.

Then there are the less obvious groupings. Like Lydia and Erica. They bring a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘foxes in the hen house’. Derek and Isaac; arguably the two most traumatized people in their pack. Sometimes it can be uncomfortable for other pack members to see just how tightly they cling to each other at times. Jackson assumes it’s different for born ‘wolves. Lydia and Allison are still good friends. Scott is still close with her too, despite the breakup.

Jackson can hardly think about anyone else in the pack without thinking about Stiles. Obviously there’s the Scott and Stiles phenomenon, and he’s also Lydia’s closest confidant. Which is something Jackson would be upset about if it weren’t Stiles.

But after a long Thursday, Jackson was ready to veg out with Danny. His mood has been nothing but sour leading up to the full moon and he was promised some halfway decent wine and horror flicks. Not that he could get drunk, but he found it helped with his headaches a lot.

He could her the soft thump-thumping of two hearts and some causal conversation as he walked up to the door but with the headache he was sporting it was too much effort to listen to who else was in the house.

Hopefully just Lydia, he mourned. Or Danny’s mom. Someone who won’t bother me. Jackson bemoaned as he knocked on the door. Anyone but-

“Stiles?!”

“Hey Jackson! Come by for a fro-yo fix?”

“No, actually.” He muttered, “Danny and I had plans. Alone.”

“I know Dan told me. Sorry to crash the party, but it’s kinda hard to call it a party if there was only one person when I got here.”

“Whatever.” He said as he pushed his way into the townhouse. There was no stopping Stiles once he was on a roll.

“Dan said you guys were doing a scary-movie-thon so I brought some of my faves.” Stiles called from behind him. “I left them on the coffee table Jax. Pick one and put it in. I still need to defrost my ice cream a bit.”

Jackson looked at Danny, thoroughly disappointed. “You let him call you Dan? You hate that nickname.”

“Dan the man with the speedo-tan!” Stiles half-sang from the kitchen.

The look Danny gave him in return was loosely translated to ‘Stiles does what he wants and I don’t care enough to change it.’

Jackson sighed. Not that he didn’t like Stiles but he really wasn’t in the mood to be around someone so energetic. He wanted to sulk. And brood. And be generally unpleasant. And not worry about hurting Stiles’ feelings with his angst.

He was almost surprised when Stiles flopped on the couch with three different flavored pints of Haagen Dazs. He sat on the opposite end of Danny, leaving Jackson as the buffer. Something Danny looked relatively relieved about.

Once the movie started the room delved into relative peace. The only conversation that occurred was between Stiles and Danny. Specifically Stiles seemed bent on getting him to try the pint of Limoncello.

“C’mon Dan, its amazeballs. And I know how much you like balls.”

“I know you can’t tell Stiles, but my abs are giving you the death-glare right now.” He responded.

“But it’s got vodkaaaaa” Stiles sang. “That would go great with the vino you’ve got going on there. How about you Jax? Wanna bite?”

Jackson reluctantly eats the gelato off of the spoon Stiles dangles in front of him.

“Told you it was good” Stiles smirks at the surprised face Jackson makes at the flavor.

When the first film finishes Stiles gets up to put his three partly eaten pints back in the freezer.

“So, how exactly did Stiles get invited today Danny?” He turns to ask as the lanky teen made his way off the couch.

“We had last block together today. He was still looking pretty rundown, and he kept sighing and I just had to invite him Jax. I know these nights of ours are sacred, but he obviously needed some not-Scott time to relax. And you guys seem to get along half-decent now.”

Before Jackson could answer, Stiles came sauntering back into the room.

“Hey Jackson, throw in the next movie would ya? I promised Danny-boy a shoulder rub for letting me crash your bromance.”

When he had slid the next DVD into the player, he turned around to see his best friend shirtless and sitting on a footrest in front of the sofa with Stiles behind him holding a bottle of massage oil.

He audibly gulped.

This is weird. This is so weird. Oh my god I do not need to associate that squirting noise associated with Danny. Oh no. This is so weird.

As the first scenes of the movie progressed Jackson tried, he really tried, to ignore the subtle moans that escaped his best friend’s mouth as his maybe-sort-of–crush worked the peppermint oil into Danny’s shoulders and upper back. It was a struggle but he was able to kind-of ignore it. However when he first sniffed the arousal that overpowered the sharp peppermint he couldn’t help but startle and inhale sharply.

“Cut it out Jackson” Stiles spat “Not everyone here has a super sniffer, and we’re only human. It happens.”

His head snapped to the right to see not Stiles blushing, but Danny. Stiles looked mildly annoyed that he was putting up with werewolves but Danny was beet red. His shoulders had a warm glow from both his tan and the soft ministrations of Stiles’ deft hands, but his whole face was blushing like a ripe tomato.

Danny chose that time to clear his throat and stand up. Stiles’ hands falling off his broad and smooth back.

“I’m going to get a fresh shirt.” He said, and promptly walked out of the room.

Stiles just leans back into the couch and resumes watching the movie. However Jackson’s curiosity was piqued.

“Are you and Danny…?” He ventured. Not knowing exactly how to finish the sentence.

“Nah” Stiles replies casually. “We’re not dating. We’ve kissed a few times, school dances and stuff. Nothing serious though. I mean, this obviously isn’t the first time I’ve given him a back massage. Usually they’re a Stilinski-special, reserved for after messy breaks ups, but apparently now they can also be used as a powerful bargaining tool.”

Stiles didn’t seem the least bit perturbed by the admission. Like it was perfectly normal for him to have his hands all over one of the hottest dudes in the school.

Well now I know why Lydia assumed I knew Stiles was into dudes. Because apparently everyone else really did know but me.

When Danny re-entered the living room he smelled slightly sweaty, and a bit like- nope. Not going there. He didn’t need to think about his best friend jacking off thinking about Stiles’ hands all over him.

Danny pointedly sat in the arm chair and not on the sofa with his gaze locked on the TV.

Jackson’s brain must be malfunctioning because he chose that moment to say “I’ll convince Danny to copy his physics notes for you next term if I can get a shoulder rub too.”

Jackson wasn’t sure if he could smell a touch of anxiety coming from Stiles (the peppermint was still pretty strong to him) but his voice was smooth and even when he told him to take a seat.

Apparently that gave Danny pause to give him the most obvious elevator eyes Jackson had ever seen from him. And bam a second person knew about his crush on Stiles.

“Arms up” the voice behind him commanded. And he decidedly didn’t think at all about how he became comfortable with Stiles taking off his shirt for him as Stiles squirted more peppermint oil into his hands to warm it up before starting to rub gentle circles into his neck.

Jackson didn’t care to see another second of the movie. He was lulled into a luxurious calm from the gentle pressure of Stiles’ warm hands on his back and neck as they pulled out his stress better than anything else ever had. He shamelessly ignored Danny’s snickering as he took a picture of him and likely sent it to Lydia. Jackson also ignored the buzzing of his phone that indicated that Lydia was probably teasing/congratulating him on getting Stiles’ attention.

~

Apparently Stiles hands didn’t stop until the movie ended. Jackson came back to reality when Stiles patted him on the back and said he had to head home and catch the Mets game with his dad. Jackson managed to mumble a “Bye Stiles” to which he got a soft smile in return before he slipped out the front door.

“So,” Danny asks, “Are you gonna go after that? Cause if you don’t I might see if he wants to rub something other than my shoulders.”

“I want to. I wasn’t sure until tonight but yeah. I wanna get to know him.” Jackson replies.

“Good.” Danny crosses his arms, standing in the doorway “He’s a nice guy, most of the time. He’s grown up a lot. Kinda like you.”

“Thanks for the stellar review man.” Jackson rolls his eyes as he rose to leave.

“Anything for you Jax.”

“Go wash your hands again Danny, you smell like sex.” Jackson said as he walked out the door.

“You’re an asshole!” Danny yelled out the front door.

“That makes two of us!” Jackson replied.

~

Stiles loved having English as his last period. Especially on Fridays. It’s the best way to end the day; some intellectual discussion he has the opportunity to participate in but he’s not required to. Today he’s definitely not paying attention. He’s thinking about warm skin under his hands and the soft breathy sounds that Jackson (and Danny, let’s be honest) made while he rubbed the peppermint oil into his skin. He’s pretty sure that he’d get half hard if he so much as smelled anything peppermint in the next few days.

Stiles has felt Jackson’s eyes on the back of his head on and off all class. He’s sure that Jackson can smell that he’s turned on. Which in turn is kind of turning him on more. It would be a problem, but given how completely boneless Jax was while he gave him a massage yesterday, he’s 99% sure they have at least some similar feelings about each other.

It was such a confidence boost honestly. Two of the most objectively attractive guys in his high school were turned on by him. By Stiles Stilinski. And while Stiles knew him and Danny wouldn’t ever date, it was nice to know that if he wanted to get a little physical he probably wouldn’t be shot down.

But Jackson was a whole other can of worms. Stiles was mostly sure Jackson was into him. He was mostly sure that he was an alright guy. He was mostly sure that Jackson would prefer a monogamous relationship. But that was too many mostlys. He’d have to remember to ask Lydia later to make sure they were on the same wavelength.

~

“You coming out running tonight?” Jackson asks Stiles as they headed out to the parking lot.

“Yeah for a bit. I don’t wanna stay out too late though. I have to finish my essay for English still.” Stiles replies.

“Cool man. I’ll see ya then.” Jackson gives Stiles’ bicep a little squeeze as he jogged off to meet Lydia at his Porsche. Apparently the free advice had run out and how it was costing a ride to and from school plus a fancy coffee.

“To Starbucks?” Jackson asks as he unlocks his car.

“Sure” Lydia winks back.

Once they got in the car Lydia just starts to laugh.

“Danny told me he had to go upstairs to ‘deal with a problem’ mid-movie.” She manages to get out.

Jackson laughs softly, “Yeah that was unexpected. I can’t blame him though. It was a fucking amazing neck rub.”

“Danny also told me Stiles basically put you to sleep.”

“Yeah. Like it was… wow. It wasn’t as much of an erotic thing for me though, compared to Danny at least. I probably would have given him the keys to my car though if he asked.” He confesses.

Lydia started typing into her phone and-

“Don’t you dare tell him that!” Jackson protests as he swipes blindly at the phone “I know I like him. He knows I like him. And I’m gonna ask him out this weekend. Not tonight, for obvious reasons, but by Sunday night I’ll have asked him out on a date.”

“I doubt Stiles is interested in a fuck buddy.” Lydia says seriously.

“I know Lyds. That’s not what I’m aiming for. I’ll take him for dinner, and then ask if he’s interested in something serious. If he says he is-”

“Of course he’ll say yes.” Lydia interrupts.

“Regardless. If he says yes I’ll ask the Sheriff for permission.”

“How quaint of you.”

“Well I have a feeling that’s the sort of guy he is.”

“Stiles?” Lydia questioned.

“No the Sheriff.” Jackson huffed.

Lydia ended up getting an extra-large coffee /em>and a blueberry muffin.

~

Full moon days were hit or miss with Stiles. Either he was already exhausted and he had no desire to stay up past ten o’clock, or he was full of energy and ready to run the night away. Today was somewhere in between. He wanted to see everybody, particularly Lydia, but other than checking in to make sure everyone was doing good he kinda just wanted some alone time. Maybe even some Stiles-on-Stiles time if he got home at a decent hour.

Once lacrosse practice was over everyone headed to Derek’s where he usually had enough food to feed an army. Of werewolves. A werewolf army. Which were his friends. His life was weird.

Anyway, usually Derek has some huge bowls of pasta with various sauces and proteins and toppings for everyone to add. A fruit and veggie tray that is brought by Allison and Lydia on alternating months. Usually another fatty protein like ribs or chicken wings, and then something for dessert.

Stiles is the dessert man. The dessert king some people might say. Those people being Scott McCall. But whatever he makes is always gone by morning. After the time Stiles brought six dozen ooey-gooey chocolate chip cookies that were eaten in under an hour Derek had asked for a shopping list and said he would get all the groceries he’d need to make the desserts. Since he had both a heavily-padded savings account and an actual job. At a landscaping company. Because what little old lady wouldn’t wanna see Derek Hale lifting impossibly heavy things that made his biceps bulge under the strain.

This agreement that he has with Derek also includes being able to use his kitchen. Since it keeps Derek in company, and doesn’t give the Sheriff access to an alarming supply of sugary snacks. Even if he puts kidney beans in the cookies and black beans in the brownies (it’s healthy and keeps them soft longer. But how would anyone know how long they were soft for if they were all eaten in forty seven minutes) there is a limit on the number his dad is allowed to eat, thus why he makes them ahead of time at Derek’s place and brings home a manageable number for the Stilinskis.

This week he had made some peanut butter chocolate protein balls and cream puffs that he dipped in chocolate. He’s curious to see if the protein balls will affect how energetic the ‘wolves get.

He asked Derek to take the protein balls out of the freezer about an hour before they got there so they could defrost enough that someone human wouldn’t lose a tooth on them. He also requested that Derek put a little sign up that said ‘Ladies Only, until 9 PM’ next to the cream puffs because he’s seen Scott eat an entire tub of them, and that was after he had an entire pizza to himself. He already sent Erica a text asking her to partake in his protein ball study, and to not abuse her privilege with the Ladies Only section. He made four dozen of each dessert but he still wanted everyone to have equal access to the treats.

When Allison saw the dessert selection walking in, she squealed and lost all interest in the conversation she was having with Boyd about their French class and ran to grab one before they were all gone. Scott shoved Isaac into the couch when he smelled the cream puffs and then it almost turned into a brawl. Derek growled “Ladies only!” and flashed his eyes. Which prevented most of the damage. Lydia preened and kissed Stiles on the cheek before grabbing a plate to eat actual dinner before her dessert.

Scott and Isaac looked like they were ready to toss Erica out the fifth story window for daring to be a lady. So Stiles decided to intervene.

“Guys! Like actual people who identify as men! I made some peanut-butter and chocolate energy balls and I want to try them-” The scuffle for some of this dessert was smaller, but also anticipated, and because Derek was much less of a fail-wolf than he used to be he stood in front of the dessert table and pointed at the meal he slaved over the hot stove to make and the boys dejectedly went to make their plates.

“So as I was trying to say,” Stiles continued, “I want you guys to have a couple of the energy balls and see if it helps at all tonight. I’m not sure how superhuman your stomachs are and I need feedback. Feedback that doesn’t include asking for more chocolate.”

“But how come Erica-” Scott tried to whine, before Stiles interrupted, having already anticipated this argument.

“Because she doesn’t beat me at lacrosse every day!”

“She could beat you at lacrosse if she wanted to!” Because Scott was sometimes mean by accident.

“I’m aware Scott. But she’s not on the team. And she won’t abuse her privileges. And she still has to fill out the satisfaction survey like everyone else for the energy balls.”

Isaac groaned “Not another survey.” Boyd rolled his eyes.

“But Jackson isn’t on the team either.”

Bless Scott’s heart. Stiles truly loved the kid to death but sometimes he needed to think before he speaks.

“For one, he was on the team and beat my ass already. And two, Scott do you want him to also have special cream puff privileges?”

~

The madness that came later wasn’t exactly unanticipated, but even Stiles didn’t foresee the possibility of the werewolves making teams to see who could catch the most energy balls in their mouths from across the room. Boyd and Scott were paired together, Erica with Isaac, and Derek with Jackson. Stiles was required to referee. Once Isaac bit through one of them and half fell to the floor they needed a ruling as to whether that counted towards their points. So Stiles decided that whoever had the least amount, in weight, on the floor when they were done won the game. Derek had a truly evil smirk on his face when he won, and walked over to the cream puff bowl and snagged one out. At 8:57. Scott glared daggers at him and was ready to protest again when Derek said “I’m the Alpha” with his mouthful of pastry.

In the interest of keeping his limbs intact, Stiles starts ushering people out to his Jeep to take to the preserve before the smack down could get underway. He’d have five and the other four would come in Derek’s car.

He was surprised to see Jackson came out with the girls to ride with him “Not gonna fight over my cream puffs man? I’m almost insulted” Stiles chuckls.

“Nah,” Jackson said, climbing in the backseat with Erica and Allison. “I’m not feeling up for it tonight. Headache.”

“Sorry to hear that dude.” Stiles said as he started the car.

~

There’s never any sort of schedule or itinerary once the pack leaves Derek’s loft. Sometimes they only run around for an hour or two and then see a movie, or stream one online. Other times the ‘wolves get more aggressive and need to bite and chase, in which case Stiles and Lydia and Allison all stay inside and chat or play a board game or do homework until they’re tired enough to head home or pull out the hide-away bed.

Today seems like a day where everyone is in good spirits and they’re gonna be running for a while.

Erica has Lydia riding piggyback and is racing Isaac with Allison. Derek and Boyd are trying to see who can walk furthest on their hands. Stiles and Scott are sitting throwing pinecones at Derek, trying to make him lose focus. And it’s kinda working.

Derek play growls at the troublemakers and ‘attacks’ them. He ends up picking Stiles up and throwing him over his shoulder.

“Put me down! Put me down you big oaf!” Stiles is hardly breathing while laughing so hard “I’ll stop distracting you if you just put-”

Jackson tackles Derek, latching around his waist. Luckily Stiles falls on top of them both.

Oh shit, Jax doesn’t look so good Stiles thinks from the grass next to them.

He’s straddling Derek’s chest, pinning his hands to the ground and growling at his Alpha. “He said, to put. Him. DOWN.”

Stiles knew that Derek’s been getting better with his Betas. Jackson being a tentative favorite, recently. And Derek’s newfound leadership qualities are proved when he remains (relatively, most things are relative with Derek) calm and asks him to “Move it”.

“I’m not asking a third time Jackson. Get off of me now.” By then it seems Jackson’s mind had cleared enough to stand aside.

“Run.” Derek orders. “15 second head start. Erica and Isaac, you’re pursuing. Go.”

The wolves are gone into the trees in the blink of an eye.

“Boyd, you can take Lydia and Allison home.” He throws the keys to his calmest Beta. “Pick me up from the Stilinski’s when you’re done.” Then presses his hand to Stiles’ back to guide him to the Jeep.

Stiles starts the car and heads for home.

“You know what just happened.”

It’s not a question.

“Yeah I get it.” Stiles affirms anyway.

“Good.” Derek replies. He pauses a moment. “You don’t have to say yes either.”

“I know. I wanna try at least. Give it a shot.” They ride in silence, save for the clunking of Roscoe down the road. “He’s a good guy.”

“Better than before.” Derek non-agrees.

~

Jackson doesn’t come by Saturday. Stiles didn’t leave the house on purpose, hoping he would stop by. But he doesn’t.

That night he calls Lydia.

“He doesn’t want to think he intimidated you into a relationship.” Lydia answers the phone.

“Wow right to it huh?” Stiles retorts, “Look Lyds, he knows I would never-”

“His feelings are valid Stiles” she interrupts. “They may not be warranted but they’re still valid.”

Stiles sighs in response.

“He needs a reason for you to trust him. We both know that’s a pretty good reason on its own. But he’d like another one.”

“I’ll ask Danny to convince him to ask my dad. He knows I trust his judgement.”

“Good.” Is all Lydia says before she hangs up.

~

Jackson was going to ask the Sheriff for permission to date Stiles anyway. But Danny convinced him that maybe it would be best to ask him before taking Stiles on a date instead of after the fact. Because if Stiles agreed, and then the Sheriff said no, it would be an easy out for him if he was too scared to say no to Jackson himself. Which was an outcome he didn’t think he could face. So Jackson texted McCall (who can’t spell a word correctly to save his life) and he says the Sheriff is at work from two until eight tonight, but Stiles usually brings him dinner around six.

So at 3:49 that Sunday Jackson walks from his legally parked car to the station. He does not jaywalk. When he gets inside he gives his best ‘I’m a gentleman’ smile to the deputy at the front desk and asks if the Sheriff is free. She says that he is, but by the look on her face Jackson thinks his smile was more Jack the Ripper than John Kennedy.

“Good afternoon Mr. Whittemore, how can I help you today?” John said as he closed his office door and makes his way to his seat.

“I’d like to ask your permission to ask your son on a date.”

“I assume you have a good reason for asking permission to date my son.” The Sheriff forms his question as a statement.

“No sir.” Jackson struggles to maintain eye contact. “It’s purely selfish on my part. He makes me better. Stiles that is. And I want that. I want to be better. For him. And with him.”

“I’ll have to disagree with you there” Jackson’s heart is ready to break upon hearing that. “I think that’s a damn good reason.”

Jackson wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Thank you sir.” Would hopefully suffice.

“And I promised Stiles that I would apologize to you for making an ass out of myself last week.”

“Apology accepted sir.”

John rose from behind his desk, “Now get outta here and go see him. He sulked around the house all day yesterday hoping you’d stop by.” He chuckled.

“Can do sir, thanks again.” Jackson offered his hand to shake.

“Don’t let me catch you speeding with him in that car of yours and we’ll call it even.” John said as he waved him out.

~

Stiles left his place around five thirty with a Tupperware of fresh out of the oven lasagna and another one of lightly dressed salad and headed to the station to drop off supper for his dad. It was accepted with thanks as usual, but then it seemed the Sheriff was trying to not at all subtly kick Stiles out.

“I’m sure there was clothes left on the line outside Stiles and there’s a chance of rain tonight so you should go home and bring it all inside.” Was the first line John tried to sell his son.

“Dad there’s nothing on the drying line. I haven’t done laundry in like a week.”

“Well I put some stuff in earlier today so if you’d just go check that would be great.” The Sheriff avoided eye contact and meandering around the station doing meaningless tasks that Stiles was sure there was no point in doing. Except for evasive maneuvers.

“Well then where was the detergent dad? Hmm?” Stiles smirked. His dad hadn’t done laundry in years.

“Right where you left it Stiles.”

“Ha ha dad very funny.”

“Well then you should get home and eat before the rest of the lasagna gets cold.” John says as he starts to push Stiles toward the door, abandoning the last dredges of subtlety.

“I already ate dad!” He exclaims!

“Well there go the dinner reservations.” John muffles, not having given up on shooing his son out the front door.

“What do you mean dinner res-” Stiles gasps. “Was Jackson coming by to take me out tonight?!”

John has opened the door to the Jeep and makes a swinging motion gesturing for Stiles to get in the damn car. “Go kiss your boyfriend Stiles!”

Stiles goes instantly red. And sees more than a couple deputies lingering near the door pretending not to be listening in. He takes the keys out of his dad’s hands (although he’s not sure when he swiped them) and magnanimously starts Roscoe and drives away.

As he turns onto his street he can see the blue eyed babe sitting on the hood of his car parked on the street.

Stiles pulls into the driveway and saunters over to the handsome man he’ll hopefully get to call boyfriend soon.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hey,” Jackson replies.

“Usually I eat with my dad at the station on Sundays but I was sent away. Something about dinner and a movie?”

Jackson smiles back at him. “Ready to go then?”

“Actually the reservations are for one.” Jackson’s face drops. “Casa Stilinski severs the best lasagna in town and then I was gonna take you to the Living Room Theatre and maybe throw on a flick where someone walks around unnecessarily shirtless.” Jackson’s small smile returns when he gets the joke.

“Sounds like a date.” Jackson stands from against his car and offers his elbow.

Stiles wraps his hand around the proffered bicep and squeezes lightly and leads him inside.

It’s about as awkward as either of them would have imagined, with their histories and Stiles having already ate dinner. But Stiles tries to amp up the mood as he clears away the dishes and puts the rest in the fridge.

“Now onto dessert!” He opens the freezer. “Casa Stilinski has the best chocolate kisses.”

“Like the Hershey’s ones?” Jackson asks.

“Nope” Stiles pops the P. “I mean I have half a pint of chocolate fudge left and you can kiss me when I’m done with it.” He wiggles the container in Jackson’s face and goes to retrieve some spoons.

“What if I wanna kiss you right now?” Stiles turns to see the devastatingly open expression on the blonde’s face. Like he’s preparing for rejection but just had to try anyway.

“Then I’d say get your cute butt over here.”

Jackson moves with supernatural speed, like he can’t breathe unless the air comes from between Stiles’ lips. But the crash is soft. Jackson’s right hand snakes into his hair and his left pulls Stiles even closer into his warm body.

The spoons clatter on the floor.

Stiles presses himself into Jackson as the surprise wears off. He’s taller than Jackson, but he’s often taller than people he’s kissed. He’s never have anyone that feels this desperate for him though; the greedy sucks and bites at Stiles’ own lips and tongue have him moaning into Jackson’s mouth.

Too soon Jackson pulls away, searching Stiles’ face for any sort of regret or displeasure.

“You’re amazing” Stiles whispers into Jackson’s mouth as he pulls him into another kiss.