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“Uh.” Stiles said intelligently, as he swung open his door and found none other than Jackson Whittemore standing there. “Scott’s not here.”
“I’m not here to see McCall, Stilinski.” Jackson said, frowning. “Look, can I come in? This is awkward enough and I don’t want to be seen here longer than I have to be.”
“Nice. Nice way to convince me to let you into my house, dude.” Stiles said, stepping back and waving a hand, gesturing to Jackson to come in. Stiles moved further into the house to keep the other from snooping too much. “Alright. You’re inside. Now. What do you want?”
“I wanted to say thank you.” Jackson said, cracking his neck to ease his tension. Stiles raised an eyebrow at him curiously.
“Ok?”
“For getting Lydia and bringing her so I wasn’t still reduced to some stupid animal, murdering innocent people on someone else’s whim.” Jackson clarified through gritted teeth.
“Oh. No problem.” Stiles cleared his throat. “Glad I was able to help even though I had no idea what the plan was to begin with.”
“I heard.”
“From who?”
“Derek.” Jackson explained. “And Lydia. They told me what kind of shape you were in, but you still helped.”
“You might have been a dick to me all through high school, dude, but that wasn’t reason enough to leave you like that. Did I want to kill you at first? Yes, yes I did.”
“It’s strange that we used to be friends.” Jackson said, looking around the house almost wistfully. “Me and Danny coming over here with you and McCall during the summers.”
“Yeah, in grade school.” Stiles snorted. “Things changed, though. After you found out about being adopted. Like that mattered.”
“It mattered to me.” Jackson retorted.
“Yeah, but you had two parents who cared about you enough to tell you the truth. You found out you were adopted and it changed everything you knew about yourself. Then my mom died, and you still stayed away. We’re not friends anymore, so it doesn’t matter. People change, I get that. My mom’s death kept me away from practically everyone, except Scott. And yeah, maybe I was pissed that you had two parents still, and I didn’t anymore, so it’s partly my fault. That being said, why are you really here? We both know you’re just stalling for time for some reason and dragging it out is only going to make it more weird.” Jackson snorted and smirked at him.
“You spend too much time around cops.” Jackson said teasingly, and it caught Stiles off guard momentarily. “I’m leaving Beacon Hills.”
“Have fun.” Stiles shrugged, eyebrow still raised, waiting for him to get to his point and starting to get annoyed.
“My parents are transferring their jobs overseas. London, to be specific. I’m transferring to school out there. I came by, because as much as we don’t get along, we both still care about the same person; Lydia. She says she’s fine with me going, and we’ve talked a lot, but I’d appreciate you looking out for her. She may not be a wolf, but you and I both know that the only reason someone would be immune to the bite is if they were something else already.”
“I just don’t know what!” Stiles exclaimed in annoyance. “She’s something, but the bite didn’t change her. I’m guessing it activated whatever she is, though.”
“Regardless,” Jackson interrupted, “look out for her. Allison is in France, maybe coming back, maybe not, but she’s going to need a friend here. I can handle her erratic calls about whatever fashion disaster she sees, and whatever gossip she wants to spew, but you are the only one who can match her wit.”
“Admitting I’m smarter than you? Wow. Pretty sure I must be dreaming or something.” Stiles said, feeling shocked. He made a show of pinching his arm before counting his fingers. Jackson willingly came to him for this, so he was going to be as dramatic as he wanted.
“Stop fishing for a compliment, dumbass. I know you two are top of the class with me and Danny in third and fourth, but there’s a large margin of difference between us.” Jackson stated.
“He just likes hearing it.” Derek said, coming down the stairs and heading into the kitchen.
“Dude, seriously, can you not use the front door?” Stiles complained, a hand on his chest because the ass had scared him. He hadn’t known anyone was in his room.
“I’m gathering as much.” Jackson agreed, following Derek into the kitchen.
“You’ll need to contact a pack as soon as you get there or you’ll be an Omega.” Derek said, taking a soda out and handing one to Jackson and Stiles. “Omega’s are the first ones targeted by hunters, whether you’ve done something or not.”
“Send me their details.” Jackson said, sounding very aristocratic and official, like he was in court or a business meeting of some kind. Stiles couldn’t process it right then, so he drank his soda before reaching for his pills on the counter.
“You’ve already had one of those today, Stiles.” Derek reprimanded.
“Yeah, and I need another if I’m going to be dealing with either of you, let alone both of you.” Stiles argued and popped one in his mouth. “I don’t think you ever got what ADHD was, none of the teachers I’ve ever had have, none of my classmates have, so I don’t expect you-”
“Stiles.” Derek interrupted with a heavy sigh.
“Right. Shutting up.” Stiles said, chugging half of his soda.
“Just wait until he starts reciting source documents about the Bermuda Triangle or the treatment of Polish people during World War 2.” Jackson said.
“Listen-” Stiles said, setting his can down a little roughly.
“No, please don’t.” Derek interrupted.
“That’s my heritage, dude! I’m allowed to be passionate about it!” Stiles defended.
“I’ll send you the last known contacts I have for London and the surrounding areas.” Derek pressed on, ignoring Stiles. “There are a few different packs that you could work with. You’ll get a hard time from them about being an American wolf in London, but the teasing will eventually die down. You don’t have to stay with them, or meet with them often, but you’ll need a pack if you don’t want to be targeted.”
“I can handle myself with a little name calling.” Jackson scoffed. “If Stilinski can handle my comments for so many years, I’m sure I can handle a few thrown my way.”
“You were easy to ignore.” Stiles shrugged. “Plus I never cared what anyone thought of me.”
“Check in with me every couple of months, if you can.” Derek said, raising an eyebrow, and Jackson just nodded. “Good luck.”
“You too.” Jackson turned for the door, setting his empty can on the counter. He stopped and turned back to look at Stiles once more. “Keep her safe, Stilinski.” Stiles waved as Jackson left, still feeling super confused about what just happened.
“Go finish your homework, Stiles. Your dad should be home soon.”
“Don’t you have your own homework to be worrying about?” Stiles grumbled. “Seriously, I don’t need a minder.”
“Stiles, I don’t believe for one second that you ever had a minder that you didn’t terrorize aside from the deputies at the station.” Derek said, raising an eyebrow at him.
“Not my fault I was smarter than them.” Stiles said, blowing a raspberry. He snagged a pack of chips and headed back to his room, stumbling a little when he got to his room and saw another backpack.
“Thought I’d keep you company for a little bit.” Derek frowned, walking past him. “It’s your fault I'm taking classes again, so I figured I’d see if your studying is good background noise for mine.”
“Well, if it is, you’ll be the first to ever say as much.” Stiles grumbled dropping into his computer chair while Derek sat on the other side of his room, his books spread on the bed. He fidgeted like he always did, tapping his pen and chewing on his highlighter, jogging his leg, as he flipped through a few pages. He was trying to focus on his Sociology book, but got frustrated and pulled out his English Lit and paced while he read.
He sat down again, typing out his paper that was due in a few weeks, knowing he’d rather get it done now. Besides, he was already ahead in the class and just waiting to turn in his assignments. When he was done, he got up, tossing his pen that was behind his ear on the desk before heading downstairs to start dinner for his dad. He jumped when a throat cleared behind him, and he will absolutely deny that he made the noise Derek thinks he heard. Because he heard nothing.
“Dude, I swear, I’m getting a bell for you.” Stiles groaned, turning back to his cutting, while trying to get his heart to calm down. “I don’t get it. I mean, why did Jackson come here? He could have called or texted.”
“Would you have answered?” Derek asked, taking the knife from Stiles and taking over while he moved over to get the pots and pans out.
“Probably not.” Stiles admitted. “He didn’t even need to ask, though. Like, Lydia’s always on my radar. We study near each other until she can’t handle my incessant need to move. I can’t sit still for more than a few minutes at a time, even with my medicine. And he hasn’t liked me since we were kids. Whatever. It’s probably just me overthinking, like always.”
“He didn’t see things the way you or I did.” Derek said quietly. “He saw his adoption as the people who made him, gave birth to him, abandoning him, regardless of if he had someone else there to care about him. You and I didn’t get a choice. My family was taken from me, just like your mother.”
“It’s not the same.” Stiles argued, his throat feeling tight. “You had no idea what was coming. We knew mom was sick, knew what was going to happen.”
“Yes.” Derek said, sounding as frustrated as Stiles felt. “But that doesn’t make it easier.”
“No.” Stiles agreed. “We don’t talk about her much, dad and I.”
“Too hard?”
“Something like that.” Stiles said, wiping a hand down his face. “Scott doesn’t remember everything that happened, when she got sick. She … she didn’t know who I was after a while. She thought I was trying to kill her. Kept calling me a murderer. She broke my arm once, and dad freaked out, told me I couldn’t go see her in the hospital anymore without supervision by him or Melissa. I was with her when it happened. When she-” Stiles cleared his throat, “anyway, I guess after that I just sort of hated Jackson for having everything I wanted, two parents who were there and loved him no matter what. We never recovered from that.”
“You don’t have to explain it to anyone, least of all me.”
“No, but you’re here and keep coming back, so instead of talking to myself or the walls, I’m talking to you.” Stiles said, letting out a long, slow breath. “Look, I promised I’d keep an eye on Lydia, but she’s aware of all this crap now. I don’t really have to worry about her. Not like my dad. We’ve been all each other had for years now. I make him get his blood pressure and cholesterol checked constantly because of his previous dependency on alcohol. He drank a lot when it happened. It was only a few months, but it took me a while to get him out of the bottle. In the end, it was Melissa coming in and screaming at him that got him to see that I had taken over doing things around the house that he and mom used to do. Laundry, dishes, even grocery shopping a few times.”
“I haven’t played basketball since the fire.” Derek admitted. “It was part of how Kate targeted me, and I couldn’t pick up a ball again without feeling like I was being watched. Laura hated it, but when we got to New York, she did what she could to help me find a different distraction. Mostly running. We even did a few New York Marathons together. We ran, you, apparently, learned to cook and developed skills a majority of the population can’t understand.”
“Just because I learned how to escape handcuffs when I was in junior high, doesn’t mean anything.”
“No, but dabbling in hacking?” Derek raised an eyebrow at him. “I know Danny is better, but you can do a lot of the same things he can. I better go. Your dad is down the block and I’d rather not be questioned about why I’m here.”
“Fair. You don’t have to, but, if you could, let me know when Jackson messages you? I doubt he’ll talk to Lydia as much as he thinks he will, because he’ll start pulling away from everyone to try and settle over there. He can’t multitask relationships and friendships like some of us.”
“Noted.” Derek huffed, dumping the veggies in the pan. “For what it’s worth, you made decent white noise.”
“Yeah, yeah, now get out of here, Sourwolf. I think we’ve reached our quota of emotional conversations, for like, the rest of our lives.” Stiles nudged him with his shoulder and focused on cooking, having two plates served up as soon as his dad walked in.
“Smells great, son.” His dad called, hanging his coat up.
“You always say that.” Stiles rolled his eyes and placed their food on the table, grabbing a few glasses of water.
“And it’s always true. So? Tell me. How are your classes really going? Are they challenging you at all?”
Stiles smiled at his dad, glad for the return to normalcy, even if just for a moment. Jackson showing up was weird, Derek, less weird, but still weird. He felt like he was becoming an intermediary for the supernatural and that was not something he was looking forward to. So instead, he focused on telling his dad about what he thought of his classes, and asked about whatever cases he could weasel out. His dad was great at his job, but sometimes he liked to hear Stiles’ theories. They watched a baseball game on TV before Stiles couldn’t stay awake anymore and they finally went to bed.
He didn’t even notice that Derek had left a textbook and a notebook behind.