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“Jackson?” Stiles called, stepping out of the loft’s front door and into the parking lot, looking around. He could still sense the amulet he’d given to Jackson when he’d first started training his spark months ago. Jackson was the only one in the pack who still had his on him at all times—his dad wore his too—, wearing the leather banded bracelet around his ankle and never taking it off.
He knew the other boy was still around, he just couldn’t see him in the dark. A whispered charm and made a quick movement of his fingers and his vision was clearing up until he could see as if the sun was still out. Jackson was over by his Porsche, leaning against the front door with his arms crossed over his chest and a dark look on his face.
Stiles debated whether or not he should even approach. He’d never been Jackson’s favourite person, and the same could be said the other way around. They got along better now than they ever had before, but that was mostly because Derek growled at them every time they argued. Even if Stiles wasn’t a wolf, he was supernatural enough that he still respected Derek as his Alpha, so the two of them tried to keep the fighting to a minimum out of respect.
It was why Stiles was so confused, slowly walking across the parking lot. He hadn’t done anything, or at least, he hadn’t thought he’d done anything. Jackson had only just gotten to the loft before he’d called Stiles some rather explicit and unflattering things, and he was pretty fucking confused as to why he’d been verbally torn to shreds without actually doing anything to warrant a verbal smackdown.
No one else seemed to understand what had happened either, or they did and they just weren’t telling him. Whatever. Stiles would figure it out and apologize for whatever it was he’d done. ‘Cause he actually kind of liked getting along with Jackson. Sure, the guy was an asshole, but so was Stiles and Jackson was actually kind of hilarious when Stiles wasn’t actively being targeted by him.
So with a deep breath, he started across the parking lot, stopping a few steps away. Jackson didn’t look up at him or acknowledge that he was standing right beside him, even though it would be impossible for him not have heard or smelt Stiles approach. Jackson had told him, more than once, that his scent was potent.
“Hey,” he tried, but Jackson said nothing. Stiles watched the other boy as he breathed, not liking the way his face was twisted into an angry frown.
“Did you...are you okay?” Stiles asked, rubbing his arms against the cold. Jackson obviously noticed, since he huffed out an annoyed breath and then shrugged out of his jacket.
“Here, dumbass,” Jackson all but snarled. Stiles took it from him slowly, wrapping it around his shoulders and pulling it tight but not wanting to stick his arms through the sleeves just in case Jackson was only making fun of him and was about to take it back. Jackson didn’t take it back, but his eyes did flash blue as he growled out, “What are you doing out here?”
“I came to see what was wrong,” Stiles told him uncertainly, again going over everything that had happened since Jackson got to the loft, just like he’d done on the elevator trip down.
Again, he thought of nothing. He’d been sitting on one of Derek’s new couches when Jackson walked into the loft with a pizza box. The other boy hadn’t said anything to anyone, just walked straight to Stiles and dropped the box into his lap. Then he’d told Stiles he was...well, Stiles preferred not thinking about what Jackson had called him, and then he’d stormed off.
“I’m sorry I didn’t eat the pizza you brought?” Stiles hedged, not able to come up with any other reason for Jackson to be upset. “But I really did just eat before you got there.” Which is what he’d told Jackson when the other boy had dropped the pizza box onto his lap without any rhyme or reason.
“It doesn’t fucking matter,” Jackson snapped, his top lip pulling back in a snarl that exposed his fangs.
Stiles tried to keep his voice light when he said, “Well, you seemed pretty upset.”
“I was showing I could provide for you, okay!” Jackson snapped angrily, moving to pace back and forth in front of him. Stiles scrunched his face up in confusion, replaying the words in his mind to make sure he’d heard right. “Yeah, fuck-face, it was a goddamn courting gift, all right?”
Stiles sucked in a sharp breath, looking Jackson over again and realizing just how defensive his pose was. His jaw was clenched tightly, and with the charm Stiles had cast he could see that his eyes were wet. “And I refused your court,” Stiles mumbled, it all making sense.
“Don’t need the fucking reminder, thanks,” Jackson snapped at him. “I’m just gonna fucking go, I don’t know what the hell I was waiting around for anyway.”
“Jacks, wait,” Stiles said, darting out and wrapping his fingers gently around Jackson’s wrist. He didn’t snap or jerk out of the hold. Instead, he went completely still, not even breathing. Stiles stepped closer, and then closer again when Jackson’s entire body seemed to drain of tension as Stiles rubbed his thumb over his racing pulse. “That was a courting gift?”
“Just fucking said it was,” Jackson muttered, eyes on the ground as Stiles stepped in front of him, closer than what was polite. “Don’t make fun of me, Stiles.”
“I’m not making fun of you,” Stiles whispered, pressing the fingers of his free hand against the jut of Jackson’s jaw to tip his face up. They were nearly the same height, but Jackson still had a few centimetres on him that usually infuriated him. Now, it made it easier to catch Jackson’s eye, rubbing his thumb over Jackson’s jaw and shivering when his thumb caught on stubble. “I promise I’m not making fun of you, okay?”
Jackson nodded, but he still didn’t say anything. Stiles focused on the two points of contact he’d initiated, feeling Jackson’s pulse race under his thumb and feeling the stubble under his fingers. Jackson was gorgeous, everyone knew that, but there was a beauty to him in the fragility of his expression that Stiles had never seen before.
Before he could say anything else, he had to make sure, “So, you want to court me?”
Jackson shrugged, then took a deep breath and said, “Yeah, Sti. I’ve...wanted to court you for months, just never had the balls to start.”
“What changed?”
Jackson growled, and it was unexpected enough that he jerked back. The noise turned into a whine, and Jackson’s hands were gentle as they grabbed his hips to keep him close. “Sorry. Sorry, I just. I went to the Jungle with Danny, designated driver ya know? And I saw you.”
Stiles flushed in embarrassment, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he considered all the things Jackson could’ve sen. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he muttered, scrunching his nose, “you were just dancing but...you’re so fucking gorgeous, Stiles, and I wasn’t the only one who saw that.”
“Oh,” Stiles said softly, words lost in his throat as he stared up into Jackson’s eyes. Since Jackson was still holding him, he reached out and cupped his hands around his neck, smiling softly when Jackson didn’t growl or pull away at the touch somewhere so vulnerable. Fuck, he was really serious. “Okay. Well, if you’re so worried about the guys at Jungle, you better come with me next time I go dancing so they all know I’m taken.”
Jackson’s face did something adorable, scrunching up before melting into the softest smile Stiles had ever seen. “Really?” Jackson asked, sounding more excited and hopeful than Stiles had heard from him since they were kids and still got along.
Stiles nodded, then darted forward for a quick kiss in a moment of unusual confidence. Jackson chased him when he pulled back, turning the peck into something lingering. Stiles made a small noise, not at all upset with how things were going, and let Jackson keep kissing him until the cold seeped through his jacket and Stiles started shivering.
“C’mon,” Stiles whispered against his lips, “take me out to eat and show me you can provide for me.”
Jackson through his head back and laughed, and Stiles promised himself that he would make Jackson laugh as often as possible.