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"What are you doing here?" Stiles says when he sees Jackson in his leather jacket and black jeans coming through the door of his hospital room.
"Hello to you too, sweetheart," Jackson says as he approaches the bed and leans in to kiss Stiles briefly but firmly.
Stiles kisses him back, both because he's not seen him in a long time and because that's what you do when Jackson Whittemore kisses you.
Stiles may not be a werewolf, but he can easily feel the tension radiating from Jackson‘s body, especially in the kiss itself. It‘s certainly not an “I’ve missed you” kiss.
When Jackson straightens up, Stiles can see Scott grinning shamelessly on the other side of the bed.
"Hey Jackson... You know what, I think I'm gonna step outside and make a phone call," Scott says before walking towards the door.
It's obvious that Scott can't get out of there fast enough and Stiles looks at him with resignation wishing he wouldn't leave him alone with Jackson.
"Thanks," Jackson says as Scott leaves the room, closing the door behind him.
"Could you please not call me that in front of Scott? Or better yet, in front of anybody?" Stiles says feeling self-conscious in his hospital gown.
Jackson snorts, "Really?" he says shaking his head, "and why should I do you any favour when you keep pulling off things like this?"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Stiles frowns.
"Don't play dumb with me, okay?" Jackson waves both arms, "You were never gonna tell me." It's not a question but a statement.
"What the hell for? I'm perfectly okay." Stiles is going to cross his arms but the movement reminds him that he's not okay and leaves them as they were before.
Jackson snorts, "Oh yeah, that's why you've been in the hospital for two days and you aren't being discharged yet."
"It's just two broken ribs, I'll be fine in no time," Stiles tries to sound convincing but it's obvious he's not fooling Jackson who, unfortunately, is a walking lying detector machine.
"If no time is from two to six months, then yeah," Jackson says frustrated.
"I told Derek and Scott not to tell you anything. How did you even find out?"
"No, they didn't tell me anything. It was Kane, who actually gives a shit about me."
Of course, Derek told Kane, Stiles should have made the connection instantly.
"Well, it wasn't his place to tell you—"
"Oh yes, it was," Jackson interrupts him, "he's my friend, don't you get that?"
"Yes, of course I know he's your friend, but this doesn't concern him. And he knew you'd come here, which is why I asked them not to tell you. You have your finals next week to worry about—You don't need distractions, isn't that what you told me a month ago? You said you needed your space."
Jackson closes his eyes for a second and shakes his head, but doesn't say anything.
"I have the texts to prove it, you know?" Stiles insists.
"To study. Some 'space' to study. Because whenever you come to visit I never get anything done. We always end up in my room most of the day doing nothing—"
"I wouldn't say nothing," Stiles interrupts him.
"You know what I mean," Jackson smirks.
"I leave my homework aside and... You're a distraction." Because Jackson can't think of a better way to describe it. "Not that I'm complaining, okay? I love it when you come, but with the finals ahead I needed to focus and so do you, don't you?"
"Yeah, me too. I know. But..." Stiles hesitates.
"What?" Jackson frowns.
"Nothing..." Stiles licks his lips, "I've missed you, okay? That's all."
"I've missed you too, it hasn't been easy..." Jackson says taking Stiles's left hand between both of his. "You can't keep things like this from me. Did you really think I wouldn't find out?"
"I was hoping that if you did, it would be after your finals. At least I would have told you after that."
"Sure," Jackson says dryly.
"It hurts, doesn't it?" Jackson says concerned, pointing at his chest. "Are you in a lot of pain?"
"Not so much," Stiles says as convincingly as possible.
"Don't put up a front with me, okay? I'm sure it must hurt like a bitch."
"I just don't want you to worry about me, okay?"
"Too late for that, I'm already worried and mad at you. Actually, I'd say even more mad than worried."
"Okay, it hurts when I breathe... which is like you know, all the time, so yeah, it's a bitch—Is that what you wanted to hear?"
"Any headache? Insomnia?"
"What did you do?" Stiles frowns. "Did you talk to Melissa?"
"No, I googled it." Jackson says matter-of-factly.
Stiles snorts and the sudden breathing movement sends an agonizing pain to his chest.
"Shit," Stiles says closing his eyes.
"Can I try...?" Jackson says unsure. "You know..."
"Your healing touch? Sure, why not... knock yourself out..." Stiles says waving both arms. Because he knows how werewolves are and, most importantly, he knows how Jackson is when it comes to him getting hurt.
Jackson doesn't answer but he carefully grabs Stiles's left forearm with his two hands and concentrates. He looks at the arm before looking at Stiles. A few seconds later Stiles can see Jackson's veins turning black and no matter how many times he's seen this, it always freaks him out a little, so he decides to close his eyes and concentrate on the feeling.
He's done it before and he knows what to expect but it still feels weird anyway. It's like a painkiller but much faster, like the rush of an unexpected high that takes your pain away... it feels pretty damn good.
And the thing is he did this with Scott once and it didn't feel the same. With Jackson it feels stronger; there's another kind of connection that he couldn't really describe if he tried, but he knows it's there, and they both feel it and that's why Jackson loves doing this shit so much, apart from the obvious healing side of it.
Stiles is not sure how much time passes because Jackson doesn't say a word, he never does.
When Stiles opens his eyes he can see Jackson with his eyes closed, deeply focused on what he's doing.
"Jackson, stop," Stiles says but Jackson doesn't show any sign that he's heard him.
"I said that's enough, stop it." Stiles raises his voice and the louder command seems to work this time because Jackson opens his eyes and sighs as he releases his arm and takes his hand like before instead.
"You okay?" Stiles asks in a worried tone.
"Yes, of course, I'm fine. I could have —"
"You don't need to," Stiles interrupts him. "That was enough."
"It worked, right?" Jackson says running his right hand along Stiles's arm. "Feeling better?"
"Yes, it did. Thank you." Because Stiles knows that he can never give him enough compliments... especially when he knows that not calling him might not have been exactly the right thing to do.
"Anytime," Jackson nods but he still doesn't look any less worried.
Jackson runs his right hand through Stiles's hair, which is longer again, and places the longer lock of hair behind his left ear.
"Weren't you getting a haircut?" Because Jackson likes the longer hair, but even Stiles has to admit that it is getting ridiculously long.
"You always say the nicest things," Stiles smiles.
Jackson snorts but doesn't say anything.
"Yeah, I wanted to but somehow between trying to keep up with homework and getting kicked and all, it hasn't exactly been at the top of my priorities, y'know?"
Jackson rolls his eyes and then he remembers what he really wanted to know.
"So, about that... are you gonna tell me what the hell happened or do I have to ask Derek?"
Stiles licks his lips as he wonders what to tell him exactly.
"Don't do this, okay? I'm fine. I don't want you getting all protective boyfriend on me. I'm an adult and I can take care of myself. Derek knows that. Hell, everybody knows that but you apparently."
"But Derek is not your boyfriend, thank god."
"Yeah, he's so not my type..." Stiles says looking directly at Jackson's eyes with a smirk.
"You're a smartass," Jackson can't help but smirk back at him. "Don't change the subject and tell me what happened once and for all."
"Like you don't already know. I'm sure Kane gave you all the details..."
"I'm telling you. He didn't know shit. Just that you were involved in some pack mess and you were at the hospital with two broken ribs, nothing else. He only wanted me to know that your life wasn't at risk."
Stiles shakes his head. "Okay, whatever," because if Jackson has to know, he'd rather tell him himself.
"So, it turned out that Talon's brother isn't in Europe anymore and he came looking for Derek... and us," Stiles adds reluctantly, avoiding Jackson's eyes.
"What?" Jackson says confused, "His brother! What the fuck?" Of all things, Jackson certainly never saw this coming.
Stiles shakes his head because he knew this would happen.
"Why the hell didn't you tell me?" Jackson says raising his voice.
"Calm down, okay?"
"Don't tell me to fucking calm down! You should have told me! Why didn't Derek tell me something?"
"Because I asked Derek not to tell you anything! Okay? I asked him. Because A, Derek got notice from another pack that Draven Esiban was looking for him but Derek didn't know how long it would take him to find him and he wasn't sure what his intentions were exactly."
Jackson snorts, "Having in mind that Derek killed his brother I could have told him what his intentions were..."
"And B," Stiles continues, "you have your finals next week and I told Derek you needed to concentrate on that, you've worked too damn hard to fuck it up now for someone who already fucked up your life once."
"Our lives," Jackson corrects him.
Jackson turns around and hides his face between the palms of his hands before running them through his hair as he turns around again.
"How could you do this?"
Jackson looks at Stiles full of incredulity.
Stiles hates the desperate tone of his voice and he closes his eyes for a second.
"We thought that if he came, it would be okay without you. Scott, Peter, Cora, Liam, Boyd, Chris and Isaac were here. We were enough."
"Great, that's such a relief..." Irony all over Jackson's words. "It's obvious why you didn't need me."
Stiles shakes his head but doesn't say anything. It's not like he doesn't understand how Jackson feels. He knows him too well by now.
"You didn't really expect him to come alone, right?"
"Of course not... but still—"
"You were enough?" Jackson interrupts him.
"Shit, Jackson. They were seven and we were nine."
"Seven werewolves, a hunter and a human. Enough, obviously."
"I can defend myself, okay?"
"Oh yeah, I can see that," Jackson says with irony as he points at Stiles's chest.
"Don't you see that they could have fucking killed you, Stiles?" And he wouldn't even have been there to protect him.
"They already tried once!" Jackson says loud enough that Stiles is sure everybody in that floor must have heard him.
"Whether you like it or not, I'm part of the pack. I'm not gonna step back every time there's a chance I could get hurt, okay? You don't want me to be a wolf but you don't want me to fight as human either... I'm sorry but you cannot have it both ways, you know that. I need you to respect our deal... otherwise, this is not going to work."
"You don't need to put yourself in the middle of something like that. You don't need to fight, for god's sake! There's other stuff you can do... things that you're good at."
"Yeah, boring human stuff, thank you but no thank you."
"You're infuriating, you know that?"
Stiles doesn't say anything because yes, he knows it must be hard for Jackson. He knows he promised not to be back at the hospital again and here he is, so yes, of course he knows he's a pain in the ass but he's not going to change and Jackson knows that.
"I just don't wanna see you getting hurt again," Jackson says with sincerity. "If something happened to you—"
"Nothing is gonna happen to me," Stiles interrupts him.
"That's exactly what you said the last time you ended up here. Next time, I don't care if I have a final coming up or if I have to drive in the middle of the night, just fucking call me, okay? I don't wanna miss the next time you get kicked in your ass."
"Promise me," Jackson insists.
Stiles rolls his eyes dramatically before he nods.
"I do. I promise to call the most stubborn werewolf that Beacon Hills has ever known to protect me. Happy?" Stiles waves his right arm.
"You're an asshole," Jackson says trying not to smile.
Just at that moment Scott enters the room again.
"How nice. I can see that love is in the air," Scott says with a smirk.
"You're an asshole too, you know?" Jackson says. "You could have also called me."
"Hey, don't get me in the middle of this. It was Derek's decision, I had nothing to do with it," Scott says crossing his arms in a defensive position.
"And where's Derek right now?"
"At Deaton's, I think. He had some stuff to discuss with him," Scott replies.
"He was here this morning. He wanted to know how I was doing," Stiles says.
"How nice of him," Jackson says.
"Shit, Jackson, don't argue with him. It was my doing, not his. Please tell me you're not gonna go looking for him now. I'm okay... or I'm gonna be okay... and you need to get back to college and focus, and forget about this."
"You mean I'm supposed to leave you here? You're kidding, right?"
"You can stay tonight if you want but you need to get back tomorrow morning. Whether or not they're discharging me, I've asked my father to bring me my books and my notes and I'll be studying which is what you need to do as well."
"So you're staying here?"
"Yes, I'll be home and I'll get back just for the finals."
"I don't know..." Jackson says uncertainly.
"Jackson, these guys are gone. Draven and at least three more of his guys were pretty badly injured. They aren't coming back any time soon, that's for sure. You can go," Scott tries to reassure him.
"So, they're alive," It's a statement, not a question and both Scott and Stiles know what is going through Jackson's mind. Both know that he'd love some revenge over what his brother did to him and Stiles years ago.
"Yes, they are." Scott says simply.
There's a moment of silence where Jackson seems to be considering everything they've just told him.
"Okay," Jackson says finally, holding Stiles's left hand again. "I'll go back tomorrow."
"Good," Stiles nods intertwining their fingers.
At least if Jackson gets back to college they might avoid a possible encounter with Derek and the argument that he knows would come with it.