Work Text:
“I can’t deal with this right now.” Jackson tears his gaze away from Lydia, who is curled up next to Jordan, and looks at Derek. “I’m not part of your stupid little pack, and I never will be.”
“It’s not an automatic acceptance, Jackson,” Derek says, sighing as he leans forward and puts his elbows on his knees. “You can’t just come back to Beacon Hills after being away for five years and expect them to trust you.”
Stiles can see the tension in his shoulders, just like he can see that Jackson’s reaching a blow-up point. Lydia snuggling with Jordan is something they’ve all got used to over the last couple of years, but Jackson hasn’t been around. He’s been in London then down in Los Angeles for a few years while the rest of them were going to college or attending the police academy. The latter describing his, Allison, and Boyd’s chosen career paths.
“This was a fucking mistake,” Jackson snarls, eyes flashing blue momentarily before he gets control of himself. Stiles is relieved that he’s gained some type of control while away, but a quick look at Derek makes it evident that it’s not enough.
“Then go. No one is trying to keep you here against your will,” Derek points out, a stubborn tightening of his jaw making Stiles want to groan aloud. Seriously? This is when he chooses to posture? It’s obvious that Jackson wants to be part of the pack or he wouldn’t have moved back to this godforsaken town in the first place.
“Whatever.” Jackson stands up and stalks out the front door of the pack house.
It’s technically Derek’s house. Well, his and Derek’s, but Stiles knows it was built with the whole pack in mind. Derek had built it during senior year, after all, when no one really knew what the future held and nearly a year before they even started dating. Derek rubs his hand over his face, and Stiles leans over to kiss his jaw. “Let me handle this one, babe.”
“You want to handle Jackson?” Derek looks at him curiously. “Fine. Just be careful.”
“I always am.” Stiles pushes himself off the sofa and ruffles Scott’s hair on his way to the window. A quick look outside confirms that Jackson’s latest fancy sports car is still parked in the large driveway, which means he hasn’t left yet. Turning around, he notices that the rest of the pack has stopped their various activities to watch him. “What?”
“Just trying to figure out why you want to play mediator between Jackson and Derek,” Lydia admits. “Out of everyone, I’d have predicted Scott possibly stepping up. You, on the other hand, weren’t even in the top ten.”
“Yeah, well, he might not have been so explosive if you hadn’t decided to wear that perfume again while snuggling up to Jordan.” Stiles shakes his head when Lydia purses her lips. “I haven’t smelled that since sophomore year, Lyds. You were trying to get a reaction, and you succeeded.”
“He left. It doesn’t matter if Lydia’s wearing some old perfume or not,” Erica points out. “If he wanted to be pack, he’d have stayed back then.”
“He’s not the only one who left,” Scott says, smiling sheepishly when Erica and Boyd glare at him. “What? You both got a second chance, so I don’t think it’s horrible to consider letting Jackson have the same opportunity.”
“On that note, I’m going to take a walk,” Stiles says, wanting to make his escape before any bickering started. He grabs Derek’s jacket off the hook and slides it on, glancing up when his boyfriend joins him.
“I don’t know if I feel comfortable with you going out there if he’s not in control.” Derek leans over to press a kiss against mouth. “Maybe just leave it. I can try talking to him again soon, alone so the rest aren’t here to agitate things.”
“I’ll be fine, Derek. I can take care of myself. Besides, he’s not out of control.” Stiles places a smacking kiss on Derek’s lips before whispering, “You need to go separate your puppies before Erica gets Isaac in a headlock.”
“Damn it.” Derek rolls his eyes. “Don’t call them puppies.” Turning around, he speaks up, “Erica, let go of Isaac now. Scott, why are you on Boyd’s back? Seriously? I turn around for five minutes, and this is what you get into?”
Stiles sneaks out of the house while Derek’s in Alpha Lecture Mode. It’s a cool evening, the crisp feel of autumn starting to give way to winter, and he knows that Jackson’s probably gone to the woods to calm down before driving home. He stops by Roscoe to get a flashlight then takes off down the path behind the house. It doesn’t take very long before he comes across Jackson sitting on the ground with his back against a tree.
“Of course it’s you,” Jackson mutters, not even glancing in his direction.
“Yep.” Stiles makes a popping sound with the p because it’s annoying. “So, you finish your tanty? That’s what they call it in England, isn’t it? Do you say bleeding hell and arse now?”
“Tanty what?” Jackson does finally look at him then, glaring in the glow from the flashlight. “No, I don’t speak British slang, you dumbarse.”
“Ha!” Stiles sits down beside Jackson and looks at the sky. “Real funny, asshole.”
“It’s not my strongest effort, but at least I tried.” Jackson picks up a rock by his knee and starts scratching it with a claw. “How pissed is he?”
“Eh, on a scale from furry caterpillars to eyebrows of doom, I’d say about a four.” Stiles turns off the flashlight so he doesn’t drain the battery. “You totally let Lydia get to you, though.”
“You should have let me know they’d all be there,” Jackson says, and Stiles doesn’t need to see his face to know he’s sulking.
“Well, if someone had told me they were planning to move back to Beacon Hills to join the BHFD, maybe I’d have felt more inclined to share my knowledge,” Stiles points out.
“It was supposed to be a surprise, fuckface.” Jackson punches his arm lightly. “You always said I wouldn’t be able to really move on until I confronted the demons of my past or whatever shit you spewed. Thought it was time.”
“Awww. Jackson, you actually listened to me?” Stiles reaches out to pinch Jackson’s cheek. “That’s so sweet.”
“I hate you,” Jackson mutters, slapping his hand away from his face. “I don’t know why I ever told Danny to give you my contact details.”
“Because you missed me and wanted to help me after I joined the whole possession slash becoming a murderer club. Probably knew I’d aim for president so you had to circumvent that by helping me through it all.” Stiles has never told anyone except Derek about his Skype calls with Jackson after the Nogitsune, and Derek doesn’t even know the full story of his complicated relationship with Jackson. Mostly because talking about a friendship that existed from age three to nine isn’t all that important in the grand scheme of things.
“As if anyone would ever vote you president over me. Keep dreaming, Stilinski.” Jackson huffs a laugh before rolling his head in a way that has him resting his cheek on Stiles’ shoulder. “I think coming back was probably a mistake,” he says quietly. “None of them give a shit about me, and Derek can’t even stand me because I’m his big failure.”
“You aren’t anyone’s failure,” Stiles tells him firmly. He isn’t going to offer fake platitudes, though, so he looks at the sky as he tries to collect his thoughts. “Hey, look. Shooting star make a wish.”
“Fuck if that doesn’t take me back a decade or so.” Jackson shifts his head so his chin’s on Stiles’ shoulder now. “How many would that make, do you think?”
“I don’t know.” Stiles sighs. “I think we’d reached like sixty something before we stopped being friends.”
“I was a jerk,” Jackson admits. “But I’ll deny ever saying that if you remind me of it in the future.”
“Dude, it doesn’t matter if you agree or not. Everyone knows you’re a jerk,” Stiles reminds him, lips twitching slightly. “But, yeah, you were. A possessive little jerk who couldn’t understand I could be friends with someone else and still be your best friend, too.”
“McCall stole you away,” Jackson sniffs haughtily. “You can’t convince me otherwise. My nine year old self was extremely wise to that moron’s ulterior motives in befriending you.”
“Your nine year old self was a selfish jerk who couldn’t share his toys. Not that I was your toy, but you considered me one.” Stiles nudges Jackson’s side with his elbow. “That was ages ago, and it’s ancient history. That’s number one.”
“Yeah, it was a long time ago.” Jackson straightens up and looks at him. “Number one, huh? So we just start over, easy as that?”
“Sure, why not? There’s enough crap in our lives that is difficult, so why make this more complex than it needs to be?” Stiles grins. “My boyfriend doesn’t hate you, by the way, nor does he consider you a failure. He’s frustrated that he was dealing with too much shit back then to help you the way he should have, so now he wants to prove he’s better, but you’re both too stubborn to give a little.”
“Ugh. Your boyfriend.” Jackson fake gags before he sighs. “I gave a little by showing up tonight, smartass. You see what it got me.”
“You let them get to you and ran off. Where’s that tough cocky paramedic that struts around LA and takes shit from people while only arching a brow?” Stiles teases. “That’s the Jackson they need to be introduced to, you know? The guy you’ve become, not the douche king you used to be in high school. They might even like you if given half the chance.”
“You just want us to all play nice pack so your boyfriend isn’t stressed out and you get laid.” Jackson snorts. “Don’t think I don’t know your schemes, Stilinski.”
“Well, sure, that’s part of it.” Stiles laughs before he uses Jackson’s shoulder to steady himself as he stands up. “But, mostly, I don’t hate you anymore, and it’d be nice to hang out with the rest of the pack taking verbal shots at you. At least, not the serious hurtful kind.”
“I can defend myself,” Jackson grumbles, glaring at Stiles’ hand when he offers it. Finally, he reaches out to take it and lets Stiles pull him to his feet. “Fine. I’ll go back and try playing nice with the idiots, if only so we can rebuild our friendship to reach sixty plus shooting stars again.”
“Just let a wall or two crumble slightly so they feel like there’s actually room for them to break in, Jax.” Stiles turns the flashlight back on and starts walking back to the house. “You told me years ago that there’s nothing wrong with being broken because it just means you’ve survived and are still alive. I listened to that advice, so maybe you should, too.”
“Seriously? You’re going to quote my own words of wisdom to use against me? That’s not playing fair, Stiles.”
“Everything’s fair in love and friendship, asshole.”