Stackson Week is for creating and supporting romantic, sexual, and queerplatonic Stiles/Jackson content.
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Optional themes for 2024:
DAY 1: In Another Life || Alternate canon or universe
DAY 2: Hate Boner || Enemies-to-Lovers
DAY 3: The Joys of Pain || Hurt/Comfort or kink
DAY 4: Hell is You || Trapped together
DAY 5: Bound || Soulmates, teammates, roommates, etc
DAY 6: Ripe for Mayhem || Chaos in any form
DAY 7: Why Oh Why || Stackson feels of any kind
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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Stiles Stilinski/Jackson Whittemore
Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Jackson Whittemore
Additional Tags: Fluff, Established Relationship, Married Couple, Teasing
Summary:
Jackson crosses a line and has to find a way to make it up to Stiles.
body swap au for @stacksonweek day 4: magical mishap (a little bit late as always) // co-written by the beautiful amazing @florenceandthemachine whom i love and adore
āIām tired, Jackson.ā
āShut up and scrub, Stilinski.ā
Stiles might have laughed if he had the energy.
As it was, he did notāhe and Jackson were standing waist-deep in a river that cut Beacon Hills Preserve nearly in half, scrubbing blood and rot andā¦various other things out of their clothes, skin, and (worst of all, in Stilesā opinion) hair.Ā
He still wasnāt entirely sure how a golem wound up in Beacon Hillsāit was green, and huge, and smelled like a dead thing that had been dragged through a fucking sewer. The green swamp thing (golem, Stiles mentally corrected) wasnāt even their enemy, which made it all the more frustratingāit was targeting a group of witches, a coven that Derek had given permission to travel through Hale territory.
The golem had other ideas, apparently.Ā
A few dead hikers later and Derek, in his infinite alpha wisdom and self-loathing, had immediately decided that because he let the witches onto Beacon Hills land, they must have been the ones killing peopleāignoring everything that Stiles was trying to say, about how the deaths they had come across didnāt make sense, Derek, and there was absolutely zero magical residue at all, Derek, and I swear to god if you slash my tires to keep me from staking out again, Derek...
...And naturally, Derek was wrong, and wasted so much time and energy going after a powerful group of beings that would have been much better served as an ally, not an enemy. So Stiles had worked even harder. He did research, he looked up proof, he found a defense, and after almost three days awakeāwhich, even then, was barely enough timeāhe had a solution.
A solution that relied a little too heavily on Danny pulling some text messages off of Derekās phone, sure, but it was a solution nonetheless. He had managed to track down where the pack had split up in their futile (and literal) witch hunt, and with the research he had done, it was easy to know which oath to follow. Stiles only wished that path didnāt wind up with his hand almost elbow deep in the chest of a nasty ass monster made of mud and moss, wrapping his hand around a tiny piece of parchment, and pulling it free with a tug. And then pretending that he wasnāt on the brink of vomiting as the thing blew up, a moment before it was about to crush half of the pack in one of its giant, muddy fists.Ā
Which led to the here and now, standing in a river, trying not to barf. Great way to spend a Tuesday night.Ā
āI am tired, Jackson.ā
Something in his voice gives Jackson pause, and Stiles canāt even muster up the energy to feel thankful at the lack of snarky report.Ā
āI havenāt slept in days. Days. Just so I could make sure that I had this information right. I saved several pack members fromā¦injury, at least, if not worse, I fucking stopped Derek from starting something with a coven of witches that he probably wouldnāt have walked way from. I did all of that and I did it alone, and I just...and after thatā¦and then fucking Derek!ā
Fucking Derek indeed, because after all that, did Stiles get a thank you? Did he get any appreciation? No. He got Derek yelling in his face about getting in the way, and then a barked order for he and Jackson to scrub up, get home, and stay out of the way. And now theyāre standing waist-deep in a river, and Stiles is so furious with the entire situation he doesnāt even think to ogle Jackson like his life depends on it when the former Kanima decides that the best way to wash out his shirt is by stripping it off.
He starts scrubbing at a spot on his shirt with renewed vigor, fuming to himself, only pausing when the splash of Jacksonās steps signal movement behind him.
āStilinski, I get it, but I thinkāā
āHa! You get it? You get nothing, Whittemore.ā Stiles snaps, whirling on his heel, almost slipping and falling beneath the water before steadying himself. āYou absolutely do not get it. I work so hard to keep everyone safe. Iāve had to do everything, everything on my own, while you⦠I mean, you wanted the bite, and Derek gave it to you. You wanted Lydia, and you got her. You want a new car, a new lacrosse team, a better wardrobe, you got that too. People just hand these things to youāā his scrubbing was reaching a furious level nowā āand meanwhile, I do everything in my power to keep you and the rest of those fucks safe, and all I get is snapped at, and itās justānotāfair!ā
The fabric beneath his fingers tears suddenly and he justā¦freezes, staring through the new hole in his shirt with shocked eyes, and blurry vision. Is he crying? Probably, but heās not sureāitās a small consolation to know that even if he is, the stench of rot and mud is so thick, Jackson probably canāt smell it on him anyway.
Because more than being tired, Stiles was afraid. Is afraid. Has been and likely always will be afraid. Afraid that no matter what he did, his dad would get hurt, or he would fail, or his friends would still wind up deadāthat Jackson would wind up dead, not that he would ever admit to itāand tonight was too close a call. The fight drains out of him as he looks down at his fingers through the hole, shoulders slumping, voice flat as he starts to make his way out of the river. All he wants right now is to go home, hug his dad, and pass out for at least a day.
āI appreciate the empathy or whatever, but you have no idea what it feels like to be in my position, Jackson. Fucking none. So just⦠take your Porsche back to your mansion, kiss your still living parents, and Iāll see you at school.ā
Stiles could almost swear he sees something soft in Jacksonās eyes, something almost resembling sympathy, but he canāt find it in him to investigate further. The exhaustion is pulling at him relentlessly, and for once, he stops fighting it. Pulling into the driveway on full autopilot, he barely manages to throw his wet, smelly clothes off of his body before collapsing into bed, asleep as soon as his head meets the pillow.Ā
///
As is his usual, heās slow to rise the next morning, dreading what heās sure will be a battered and bruised body, but when he grits his teeth and stretchesā¦nothing. Thereās no pain, no stiffness, not even a popping joint. His body feelsā¦good. His bed feels good. Has his bed always been so comfortable? Heās reaching for his phone when his arm smacks a wall instead, and thatās the first indication that something is off.Ā
Heās never been to Jacksonās house, but he knows immediately thatās where he is as soon as he opens his eyes ā because no other teenager would have a fucking king size bed with silk sheets, a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, and a walk-in closet the size of Stilesā entire bedroom.Ā
His first thought is that heās remembering last night wrong. That he had actually ended up being too tired to drive, so Jackson brought him here to crash. Which was really cool of him, especially after Stiles unleashed his raging inner monologue on him, and he should definitely apologize for that.Ā
Once he drags himself out of Jacksonās absurdly comfortable bed, though, and seeks out the nearest mirror to assess whether he looks as bad as he thinks he should feel, he finds Jacksonās face staring back at him.Ā
Itās probably a testament to their completely fucking ridiculous lives that Stiles doesnāt even flinch. Because after all the shit thatās happened to them, why not this too? In fact, having some sort of Freaky Friday situation with Jackson is pretty damn low on his list of things to be concerned about. Barely even on the radar, really. Itās more of a slight inconvenience than anything.Ā
Assuming, of course, that they had actually switched places and Stilesā body wasnāt likeā¦dead in a ditch somewhere. That would be a huge bummer for everyone involved.
To be honest, all Stiles wants to do is lock himself up in this absolute paradise of a bedroom and catch up on his sleep. He feels more well-rested than he has in weeks after a night in Jacksonās bed (or is it because heās in Jacksonās body, who probably sleeps this well every night [or, because supernatural healing and rejuvenation capabilities]?), but he could still use another solid day of rest and relaxation.Ā
As it is, though, he checks Jacksonās phone and sees that heās late for school. Stiles would ditch in a heartbeat if he was himself, but golden boy Jackson Whittemore has had perfect attendance since kindergarten. So he throws on some clothes and hauls ass out the door, all the while wondering why he knows that, and more importantly, why he cares.Ā
///
Despite his best efforts (speeding like a mad man in the Porsche, for fun just as much as necessity), heās too late to catch Jackson before class. He spends the entirety of the morning trying to get used to the fact that he can hear everyoneās heartbeats and smell the way theyāre feeling. Stiles knows damn near everything there is to know about being a werewolf, but actually being one is different. Itās sensory overload, and itās overwhelming as hell.Ā
He holds it together well enough, though, because this isnāt his first rodeo. Heās been through this enough times to know how to control it. So he does, and he makes it to lunch without wolfing out, which heās pretty proud of. Being a werewolf isnāt something Stiles has ever wanted, but he has to say, heās kind of crushing it.Ā
As soon as he sees Jackson (himself?) in the cafeteria, he rushes to Stiles and pulls him into the hallway so they can talk alone.Ā
āWhat the fuck, Stilinski?ā
Stiles has to laugh.Ā
āI have no idea, dude,ā he answers with a shrug. āYour guess is as good as mine.ā
āYou look like shit,ā Jackson observes, smirking in a way that usually makes Stiles want to punch him when heās not looking at himself. āThatās not easy to do with my face.ā
Stiles, for his part, just rolls his eyes. āShut up. Have you told anyone what happened yet?āĀ
āYeah, I told McCall, and he told Derek. Weāre all meeting at the loft after school to figure out whatās going on.ā
āGreat,ā Stiles deadpans, barely holding back a dramatic sigh. Just thinking about dealing with the pack right now is exhausting, but as much as he would have loved to entertain the idea of fooling all of their friends, it was probably for the best to keep them in the loop.Ā
Jackson laughs and makes a noise of agreement. āHey, youāre good, right? You have the wolf under control?āĀ
Stiles nods. āI think so, yeah. So far, so good.ā
āYeah, I figured you would, but I had to check.ā
Jackson says it as easy as anything, like itās no big deal, but Stiles is taken aback by it. Because while he has to fight everyone else tooth and nail just to prove his worth, here Jackson is trusting Stiles to handle himself, simple as that. Stiles is grateful that, for once, Jackson canāt hear his heart stutter in his chest.
āSo Iāll see you after school?ā Jackson asks, snapping Stiles out of his thoughts.Ā
āYeah, see you then,ā he agrees.Ā
///
The pack meeting turns out to be an hour-long session of bashing Stiles, treating him like a child and insisting they all take turns ālooking after himā in case he fucks something up and they have to step in and fix it.Ā
None of that surprises Stiles, if heās being honest. What does surprise him, however, is the way Jackson stands up for him.Ā
āFor Godās sake, he doesnāt need a fucking babysitter,ā he scoffs, looking pointedly at Derek. āHe single-handedly raised Scottās wolf when his alpha was nowhere to be found, and he helped every single one of us with our control when you couldnāt be bothered. If you think he canāt handle this on his own, youāre full of shit.ā
That earns a stunned silence from everyone in the room, and Stiles chooses to ignore the flush high on his cheeks. Jackson typically wasnāt big on talking during these meetingsāin fact, it was pretty likely that was the most he had ever said in a pack meeting, and all those words were just to defend Stiles?Ā
Thatās weirder than the body swap.
āHey, uh, thanks for that,ā Stiles tells him once the meeting is adjourned and theyāre headed back out to their cars.Ā
āIt was true,ā Jackson says with a shrug. āSo are you gonna tell your dad about all of this?ā
Stiles shakes his head. āNah, I donāt wanna worry him for nothing. Just donāt let him eat garbage and be sarcastic, but not mean, and heāll believe youāre me.ā
āGot it.ā
āWhat about me? You have any tips for your parents?ā Stiles prompts.Ā
Jackson laughs at that, though Stiles isnāt really sure why. āTrust me, you donāt need any tips,ā he says.Ā
Stiles canāt help but be a little annoyed at the cryptic advice, because what the hell is that supposed to mean?
Heās chewing the thought over as he pushes the button on the visor of Jacksonās Porsche (which he has named Persephone), and his brow furrows when he looks into an empty garage. He thought that maybe Jacksonās parents had been up and out before his school day started, but they werenāt home now, either?Ā
A business trip, maybe? Jackson hadnāt seemed worried about it, so he probably didnāt have a reason to be eitherā¦but he had to admit, he isnāt sure how to feel about being alone from the moment he unlocked the front door to the moment he woke upāto a very amusing set of text messages, he might add.
11:37 PM: dude how do you get your human brain to shut off
11:44 PM: seriously what the fuck i am tired why cant i go to sleep?
12:17 AM: fuck it im going to count your moles to bore myself into a coma
12:43 AM: didnt work. you have fourteen beauty marks on your left ass cheek. just fyi
Stiles did not want to know that; in fact, any schadenfreude he may have been feeling at apparently ditching his overworked human brain was immediately muted by the thought that Jackson had technically (apparently) looked at his naked ass.
...Which leads to Stiles realizing as he shampoos his hair that technically, heās seen all of Jackson naked too. Technically, hell, heās currently feeling Jackson up as he scrubs. Itās a lot of technicalities that Stiles absolutely does not want to face.Ā
He rinses quicker than he washed and almost jumps into some clothes, weirdly nervous about the potential to see something that he feels he really shouldnāt spend too much time getting up close and personal withāeven if Jackson was apparently using a hand mirror to count beauty marks on his temporary ass cheek.
///
He opens the garage door and starts Persephone up, but before he can fully back out of the driveway, a sleek sports car is pulling in the drive beside him, and sure enough, Derek in all his brooding glory is soon rapping on the passenger side window.Ā
āOpen up. Iām going to make sure you get to school.ā
Stiles sighs to himself before unlocking the door. He should have figured that Derek would take part in his ākeep stupid Stiles from causing troubleā campaign, but that didnāt mean he had to enjoy having Derek anywhere near himāor the feelings that came with it.
Because the truth is, feeling Derek this close to him makes him fucking uncomfortable. He isnāt sure if itās a wolf thing, or a Derek thing, but every breath he takes while theyāre in the enclosed vehicle makes him more and more nervous. If he were in his own body, heād be fidgeting like crazyābut now, he can just feel his brain going into overdrive, trying to access that little part of Jacksonās hindbrain that feels his instincts going crazy.
Everything gets catalogued as he drivesāwhile he had always thought Derek would give off commanding, calming vibes, itās more of the opposite. He can actually smell Derekās annoyance (which is not surprising) but thereās something else there, something thatās bitter, acidic, deep rooted and laced in everything Derek does or says.Ā
Heās halfway out of the car, engine off, keys in hand, when it clicks in his head. Derek is talking to him, low and monotone, and if you werenāt listening with supersonic hearing, you might have assumed he was bored. Heās in the middle of explaining something that sounds suspiciously like a curfew (just because Stiles can hear does not mean he was listening) when Stiles interrupts.Ā
āJesus, Derek. I hope you hid your emotions better around Jackson before we went all Freaky Friday. I canāt tell which you hate more right now, this body in general or the fact that Iām in it.ā
Admittedly, Stiles isnāt sure what heās hoping for after he speaksāan argument, maybe, or a denial, but when Derek just stares at him, eyes wide in surprise even as his brow furrows, it tells him all that he needs to know, and he can feel his heart sink. Being annoyed with the situation is one thing, and it would have been stupid to assume Derek was thrilled about the situation when he and Jackson were still sorting it out, but damn. It was a punch in the gut to know that Derek really did hate him.
Or maybe he hates Jacksonāwhich, when that thought crosses his mind, makes Stiles heart fucking break. Because sure, Stiles was annoying on the best of days, but Jackson? He was a genuinely good person. A genuine asshole, sure, but a good person underneath it all. And with all the research he had done on pack bonds and family units, he couldnāt imagine how it would feel for Jackson, Derekās first beta, to feel that loathing all the time.
Derek still wasnāt denying anything, and Stiles feels a burn at the back of his tongue, building up just to tear into Derek at a momentās notice.
Heās about to open his mouth again when a familiar roar catches his earsāand in the three seconds it took for him to turn and identify where Jackson was piloting his much-missed blue behemoth of a car into the lot, Derek was gone.Ā
Good, Stiles thought. Hateful fucker.
Stiles and Jackson may have still been shaky on the āfriendsā area, but a furious Stiles isnāt the most rational Stiles, and suddenly heās overwhelmed with an inexplicable urge to protect Jackson. To shield him from everyone and everything trying to hurt him, because apparently that list includes his own alpha.Ā
Itās illogical. The rational part of his brain realizes this, and yet the feeling is so primal and all-encompassing that he canāt resist it. He can feel himself popping fangs (which is a weird fucking sensation that he will have to address later) as Jackson walks up to him and Stiles immediately wraps him up in a hug. He holds him tight, buries his face in the crook of Jacksonās neck and just breathes.Ā
Jackson seems surprised, but he doesnāt say anything. He hugs Stiles back with no complaints or snarky comments, apparently content to stand there with Stiles for as long as he needs. If Stiles had to guess, heād say Jacksonās probably familiar with the feeling of needing to be close, which breaks his heart a little bit, considering he can count on one hand the number of times heās seen Jackson seek out comfort from any of the pack.Ā
Well, fuck that. That ends now, as far as heās concerned.
āYou good?ā Jackson asks when Stiles finally lets go of him, an embarrassing amount of time later.Ā
āYeah,ā he says, and itās actually not a lie. He feels much more grounded and at ease, though Jackson is giving him a strange look. āWhatās wrong?ā
āNothing, your eyes are just...theyāre not blue.ā
It takes Stiles a minute to figure out what Jacksonās talking about. Once he does, though, he recognizes the bitterness of guilt and sadness thatās seeped into Jacksonās scent. That breaks his heart even more.Ā
Stiles takes a deep breath and blinks a few times, willing his eyes to go back to normal. He has no idea what to say to that, if heās being honest.Ā
āCome on, walk me to class,ā he decides on, because anything else would be way too heavy for the school parking lot at 8:00 AM.
āSo Iām gonna do some research tonight, since the rest of the pack isnāt doing shit to help us,ā he continues. He lets his shoulder brush against Jacksonās as they walk. āDonāt worry, I got ahead on your homework last night. Iām keeping your perfect GPA intact.ā
āThanks,ā Jackson says, chuckling. āI can help, if you want. Or keep you company, at least, since I know youāre a control freak and you like to do everything yourself.ā
āTakes one to know one,ā Stiles retorts, biting back a smile. āYeah. Uh, Iāll call you?ā
āCool,ā Jackson agrees, and thatās that.Ā
///
He spends almost three hours on the phone with Jackson that night. True to his word, he lets Stiles do his thing, but he talks to him, and he listens while Stiles reads from the pages he finds online. Itās not that different from his usual research routine, but itās a hell of a lot less lonely to have someone by his side, supporting him.Ā
As far as Stiles can figure, what happened to them was brought on by a witchās spell, which he canāt say is surprising, considering how royally Derek had pissed them off. The only way to undo it is to let it play out, until they reach whatever outcome the spell intended in order to switch them back. Itās not the best news, considering neither he nor Jackson have any idea what that outcome is.Ā
He still hasnāt seen even a glimpse of Jacksonās parents, after almost three days of being here. Heād briefly considered texting, but when he opened Jacksonās message threads with them, he saw that he hadnāt texted either one of them in over six months. Stiles wants to ask Jackson about it, but heās pretty sure he doesnāt want to know the answer.Ā
āThis is so weird,ā he says instead, because they really havenāt given the appropriate amount of acknowledgement to that fact.Ā
āWhat is? Being rich and popular and perfect?āĀ
Stiles rolls his eyes so hard heās sure Jackson can feel it through the phone. āAmong other things. Namely the fact that youāre technically the first person Iāve ever seen naked.ā
It comes out of his mouth before he realizes what heās saying, and he wishes the ground would open up and swallow him right about now. Jackson doesnāt seem bothered by it at all, though.Ā
āHave you jerked off yet?ā he asks, sounding more curious than anything. At Stilesā spluttering silence, he adds, āWhat? I have.ā
Stiles lets out a scandalized gasp and then proceeds to choke on air, much to Jacksonās amusement. Heās definitely laughing at Stiles, the bastard.Ā
āI mean, I didnāt really have much of a choice,ā Jackson continues easily. āYou were wound up so tight I thought you were going to explode. I had to take the edge off.ā
āOh my god,ā Stiles mutters, flushing bright red. He doesnāt know how Jacksonās being so nonchalant about this, but his virgin ass is mortified.Ā
āIām just saying, it might make you feel better.ā
āIām not...I...donāt you think itās, like, beyond weird?ā Stiles manages to ask, though it takes a lot of effort to string together a full sentence.Ā
āKind of, but when have our lives ever not been weird?ā Jackson asks, and Stiles has to admit, he has a point. āIām hot, youāre hot, so whatās the difference, really?ā
Jackson keeps talking, Stiles is pretty sure, but he doesnāt hear anything after youāre hot. His brain short-circuits.Ā
āIām hanging up now,ā Stiles chokes out, because he canāt handle this conversation anymore.Ā
āIf it helps, I give you my blessing to feel me up to your heartās content,ā Jackson offers.Ā
āGoodnight, Jackson.ā
Jackson laughs, sounding almost fond. āNight, Stilinski.ā
Stiles tosses the phone at the table, ignoring how his face was bright red, and his eyes were probably bright again, and his fangs werenāt the only thing that had⦠popped in that last ten minutes.Ā
More than anything, though, he was acutely aware of the warmth in his chest.Ā
Jackson thinks heās hot.
10:51 PM: found another one. fifteen beauty marks.
10:52 PM: JACKSON I SWEAR TO GOD
He is so, so fucked.
///
11:29 AM: i want some shrimp scampi tonight.
11:31 AM: ehh, itās healthy enough i guess, dad will like it. everything you need should be in the pantry.
11:32 AM: ⦠stilinski are you fucking serious right now? i didnāt say your dad wanted shrimp scampi, i said i wanted shrimp scampi
Stiles almost snorts in the middle of his History classāwhich was better than falling asleep, but only barelyāand canāt help but feel the smug sense of pride that bloomed in his chest.
11:35 AM: why jackson, are you asking me to dinner?
11:40 AM: no, dumbass, iām telling you that iām coming over to my own house and youāre making me shrimp scampi.
Stiles rolls his eyes and sends an affirmative-looking emoji, a smile on his face as the bell rings and he shoves everything into his bag. He taps at his phone as it buzzes again in his hand.
11:45 AM: trust me, when i ask you to dinner youāll realize it.
Stiles hates his life a little bit.Ā
But only a little bit.
///
āCome on, Jackson. I didnāt even make the pasta myself, it is not that hard to boil some water.ā
āThe fuck do you mean, you didnāt make the pasta this time? How the fuck do you know how to make pasta?!ā
Stiles laughs as he pushes some shrimp around in a pan, watching as Jackson goes to sit on the counter. The kitchen is huge ā probably bigger than Stilesā own house ā but he definitely isnāt going to complain about Jacksonās general proximity. āWhat did you tell my dad, anyway? I canāt imagine he was so keen to have you spend some time over here after you tried to sue us,ā he says, draining the pasta, looking up after Jacksonās silence carries on a little too long.
Jackson is personifying the deer in the headlights look, a piece of dried pasta broken off in his mouth.Ā
āIsā¦is he going to care if Iām not home?ā Jackson asks, his voice shockingly small, and Stiles can literally smell the panic rising in Jacksonās voice, which he only needs one whiff of to determine he never wants to smell it on Jackson again.Ā
Stiles can hear Jacksonās heart start to race, and he doesnāt even think before he goes into full damage control mode. He immediately starts talking (a distraction) and grabs his own cell phone from the table (taking the attention off of Jackson), narrating what he was texting to his dad (letting Jackson know what the right thing to do was, without bringing up what he had done wrong).Ā
He leans up against the counter as he speaks, his shoulder pressed firmly along Jacksonās, giving him a point of contact to focus on. It was almost āpanic attack 101ā at this point ā Scott had done the same thing to give him some time to calm down when he had an attack in public, back when Scott wasnāt a fuckhead, and even though they were alone in Jacksonās giant-ass house, he figures it would be a better way to help Jackson down than confronting him head on.Ā
Do werewolves get panic attacks?
Stiles really doesnāt want the answer to that question.Ā
A small scoff from Jackson is the only cue Stiles needs to stop his regular rambling, and heās momentarily thankful for the grumpy look on Jacksonās face as he chews his dry pasta. Itās the same look that he got whenever Scott suggested a better lacrosse playāthe āokay youāre right, shut up about itā, but Stiles takes it as the signal that it is, that Jacksonās okay.
Which is great, because no sooner than that crisis is averted does the next one come up. What started with the slam of a car door outside (down the street or down the block, Stiles still wasnāt sure how to gauge distance by sound yet) turns into muffled voices, talks of luggage and āthe car blocking the drive.ā
He has no doubt that his expression is probably hilarious when he turns to Jackson, but heās on the brink of panic himself as a key turns in the lock ā because dealing with the pack was one thing, but lying to āhis parentsā in an attempt to pass off as ātheir childā?Ā
Jackson had a near panic attack just thinking about Stilesā dad, and now here he was about to come face(s) to face(s) with his own parents, and Stiles⦠is officially out of ideas. Or creative lies. Both wells have about run dry.
Stiles freezes on sight when Jacksonās parents walk into the kitchen. He canāt help it ā theyāre intimidating as shit, okay? For one horrible, painfully awkward moment, they all just stare at each other in silence.Ā
āUhāā
āJackson,ā his mom finally greets him, and although sheās smiling, her tone sounds like sheās addressing a business partner instead of her son. āYouāre here. With company. Making a mess of the kitchen.ā
She says it with an astonishing amount of contempt, acting way more appalled than the situation calls for ā like theyāre doing lines of coke off her kitchen counter, not just making dinner ā and Stiles is fucking thrown.Ā
āYeah, uh, sorry, Iāā he tries, but it dies in his throat. He couldnāt finish the sentence if his life depended on it.Ā
āI didnāt think you knew how to work the stove,ā his dad chimes in, with that same āthere is company hereā type of smile on his face, so fucking condescending it makes Stilesā skin crawl.Ā
He can smell their disdain, can feel the irritation radiating off of them in waves ā like this entire conversation is nothing but an inconvenience. Itās the first time theyāve seen Jackson in three days (that Stiles is aware of, but heād guess itās probably been longer) and yet itās blatantly apparent theyād rather be anywhere else.Ā
Stiles is nauseous. He has that feeling again, the same fierce protectiveness of Jackson heād been hit with after he talked to Derek. He wants to yell, to unleash absolute hell on them for being such unbelievable fuckwads to their only goddamn son, but he doesnāt know enough about this fucked up relationship dynamic to feel comfortable doing it. The last thing he wants is to make things harder for Jackson, and heās pretty sure telling them off would definitely push things into the territory of worse.Ā
The problem is, though, Stiles is having trouble mustering up any other, less dangerous reaction. Because as far as heās concerned, the only appropriate response here is pure, unbridled rage. He takes a deep breath, then another, trying to buy some time, and then Jackson comes in with the save.Ā
āActually, I just came to pick Jackson up. We have a project weāre working on for school, so heās gonna stay at my house for the night.ā
His parents just shrug like they literally couldnāt care less and walk away without another word.Ā
Jacksonās silent as they wash the dishes, and for the entire car ride. Stiles can feel his eyes glowing gold again, but thankfully thatās the only external sign of his anger, so he doesnāt bring it up ā he doesnāt know how to. In fact, neither of them speak again until theyāre laying side by side in Stilesā bed, staring up at the ceiling in unison.Ā
āJackson,ā Stiles breathes, afraid heāll scare him off if he speaks too loud or makes any sudden movements. āWhat the fuck?ā
āIām sorry,ā Jackson answers, sounding resigned. āI should have warned you. I just...Iāve never told anyone.ā
āExplain it to me,ā Stiles says softly.Ā
He feels Jackson shrug next to him. āWeāre more like roommates than anything. I stay out of their way, and they stay out of mine. They drag me to work events sometimes to make themselves look good, but other than that, theyāre happiest when Iām not around.āĀ
Suddenly, so many things he knows about Jackson make more sense. His compulsive need to be the best at everything, his arrogance and his superiority complex ā he doesnāt believe any of it. Heās just trying to protect himself.Ā
āItās more than that, though. Roommates are nice enough. They were cruel, Jackson. And with your sensesā¦ā Stiles trails off, because he canāt bear to say it out loud. No kid should have to literally physically feel their parentsā resentment.Ā
āI donāt know,ā Jackson says, sighing. His heartbeat stays steady, so itās not a lie; he genuinely doesnāt understand why. āThey donāt hit me or anything, if thatās what youāre thinking. They just...donāt like me.ā
Stiles is relieved at that, but only marginally.Ā
āYou know that doesnāt mean theyāre not abusive, right?ā he asks, because he needs Jackson to know that. āThey donāt get a pass just because they donāt put their hands on you. The way they treat you is bullshit, Jacks.ā
He glances over at Jackson out of the corner of his eye, and he has his eyes squeezed shut, like heās trying not to cry. He smells relieved, though, at the validation. Stiles reaches for his hand and firmly laces their fingers together.Ā
āWhy havenāt you come to the pack with this?ā Stiles asks, stroking Jacksonās fingers gently with his thumb.Ā
āI donāt know if youāve noticed, but our pack kind of sucks.ā
Stiles canāt help but snort at that. āYeah, I canāt argue with that. Thereās always me, though.ā
Jackson lets out a short bark of a laugh, his face tight with some unreadable emotion as he finally looks over at Stiles. āDonāt say things like that, Stilinski. We canāt afford to make any promises right now. What if we never switch back? What if we canāt? What if that witch had decided to blast one of us into another dimension, instead of just this?ā
āJacksonāā
āWe could all wind up dead tomorrow with some new terrible monster because thatās apparently our lives now, so you canāt justā¦say things like that so fucking easily.ā
His voice is getting more and more heated, but their hands are still linked together, and thatās all the confirmation Stiles needs. He pulls with a tug and ignores the gasp of surprise as he wraps his arms around Jackson like a squid, his voice heavy and slightly lisped through fangs when he speaks again.
āJackson, I will always have your back. No questions. No negotiations. Fucking always. Understand?ā
Jackson doesnāt respond beyond a small nod of his head. Stiles doesnāt push the issue, no matter how badly he wants to, so he lets it go for the time being.
He half expects Jackson to pull away. He doesnāt.Ā
///
Stiles wakes up as the sun rises, feeling Jacksonās nose against his neck. Heās splayed out over Stiles in a way that makes him fucking preen, even as his heart races a mile a minute, but not before pulling Jackson a little closer, going back to sleep.
///
āYou know, as much as it pains you all to admit it, I know that you know Iām right.ā
āStiles, enough.ā
Stiles had tossed himself onto a couch once he and Jackson had made their way to Derekās loft, only lifting his feet for a half second so Jackson could sit, firmly planting them in Jacksonās lap a moment after. The only person who even spared them a glance was Lydia, and even then, it was just the quirk of a perfect brow and what might have been the ghost of a smile if you squinted.
āDerek, we should just ask the witches. Apologize for mistaking them for the bad guys, ask if there was any latent magic hanging around, yadda yadda. Theyāre still on Pack land, right?ā
āStiles, I said enough.ā
Stiles is not above using cliches when theyāre warranted, which is good, because up until that moment he had literally been having the perfect day. He woke up with Jackson in his arms, he got to see his dad for breakfast (who, thankfully, didnāt comment on their likely sleeping arrangements). His dad went to work, they watched movies, they ate shitty food, they played video games, and Stiles only broke one controller in a fit of Halo induced rage.
āTheyāre still on Pack land, right? Who knows for how long. If we have a window of opportunity, it is closing fast.ā
āI fucking swear, one more wordāāĀ
As much as he hates to admit it, it was like his best bud time with Scott, but on a whole new level ā because while Scott was ditching him for whatever the cute girl of the day was (which, actually, was Isaac, he was pretty sure), Jackson was attentive, and funny, and laughed at Stilesā dark jokes...and they hadnāt gone more than ten minutes without some form of physical contact.
But now here they are in Derekās shitty, depressing loft, and...well, all good things have to come to an end.Ā
āIām just sayingāā
āStilinski. If you donāt shut up about all this, Iām going to rip your throat out with my teeth. The only reason youāre involved in all of this is because of the body youāre in right now, but just because youāre a wolf does not mean you understand what it is to be pack.ā
The last few words are low, almost growled out, laced with that familiar Alpha tone that Derek loves to use to get the little underlings to train harder, or move faster, or whatever he thought the benefit of the moment was. His eyes are burning red where they stare into Stilesā, and when Stiles turns his head, he can see Erica and Boyd shrinking in on themselves, heads down and eyes lowered. Even Scott has his mouth clamped shut.Ā
Whichā¦huh. The display was interesting and all, but was that really all it took? A growled order to shut the fuck up?
āNo.ā
His mind is running a mile a minute, thinking ahead of himself, even as Derekās expression crosses into a downright murderous category.Ā
āWhat?!ā
āNo, I meanāwell, I mean no. Because youāre right, Iām not part of the pack. Youāve made that very fucking clear that no matter how much I try to do, Iām not part of it. But if Iām not part of the pack, that means that you are not my fucking Alpha. Which means⦠I am so fucking out of here.ā
He stands, slowly, as though wanting to be sure he can prove it to himself that Derekās influence means nothing to him. He can practically feel the wolf radiating with excitement as he does, which is all the confirmation he needs.Ā
Huh. Instincts. Weird.Ā
He has to put a damper on his excitement when he turns away from Derek (who is beginning to switch from rage to hurt and confusion and honestly Stiles does not have the time right now) and faces Jackson instead. While heās finally ā finally ā to blow this joint, he knows itās probably going to be a little more difficult for Jackson to just up and leave a group that he had been craving approval from for so long. And if Jackson wants to stay, Stiles will too, in a heartbeat ā but he owes it to himself to at least try.Ā
āJackson, Iām tired of bullshitting around. Iām going to go get some answers.ā
He puts out his hand, a smile on his face, even as he feels confusion bounce around the room, like they had only just noticed that Jackson and Stiles were basically sharing a love seat before Derek tried to bite his head off.Ā
Poor Scott even smells a little hurt. Stiles will try to make it up to him and explain, maybe, possibly, but it will be much later. Right now, he has one priority and one priority only, and itās staring at him, wearing a shocked expression heās seen in the mirror all too often.
āCome with me?ā
Heās expecting Jackson to hesitate for at least a moment or two, but as soon as the words leave Stilesā mouth, heās taking his hand and following him out of the loft. He only pauses to flip Derek off with his free hand, leaning into Stilesā side as they laugh together.Ā
///
āYouāre kind of a badass, you know that?ā
Theyāre back at Stilesā house (Jackson had asked him, open and vulnerable, to āplease, just stay here with me, Stilinski, my parents wonāt give a shit,ā and Stiles was powerless to deny him) after agreeing to go find the witches first thing in the morning, since it was a little too late to go bothering them tonight. Theyāre on the couch, sitting so close together Jacksonās practically in his lap, as they watch reruns of Brooklyn 99.Ā
In response to Jacksonās question, Stiles scoffs. āMe? How?ā
āIāve been wanting to say shit like that to Derek for months,ā Jackson admits, nudging Stiles with his elbow. āYouāve been in my body for less than a week and youāre already more ballsy than Iāve ever been.ā
āYeah, but I wasnāt just talking out of my ass. Heās not my alpha. He literally has no sway over me.ā Stiles wants to ask him about this thing between him and Derek, exactly how long yet another of Jacksonās parental figures has been treating him like shit, but things are good right now. Theyāre bonding, and for once, Jacksonās scent is emanating nothing but complete contentment, so Stiles keeps his mouth shut and rolls his eyes instead.Ā
āIām serious,ā Jackson continues easily. āIs it weird that Iām super attracted to you right now?āĀ
Stilesā entire line of thought comes crashing to a halt and his mouth goes dry.Ā
āProbably,ā he answers weakly, trying to will his heart to stop hammering in his chest. āBut youāre also super full of yourself, so I canāt say Iām surprised.ā
Jackson chuckles at that, eyes bright. āCome on, youāve never thought about what itād be like to kiss yourself?āĀ
Stiles is suddenly hyper aware of everywhere theyāre touching, his skin warming under Jacksonās touch.Ā
āI can honestly say that I havenāt, no. But then again, you wouldnāt either if you looked like I did all the time,ā he answers. He pauses for a beat, then adds, āI have thought about what itād be like to kiss you, though.ā
Heās impressed with himself for having the guts to say it so easily. Donāt get him wrong ā Stiles is fucking terrified ā but heās also comfortable here with Jackson. He feels safer than he has...probably since the whole werewolf hellscape started. So he figures he owes it to both of them to be genuine.Ā
Jacksonās answering grin is blinding, even if he cuffs Stiles in the side of the head first. āFirst of all, shut the fuck up. Iāve been in your body for a week and trust me, I am now intimately familiar with how hot it is. Second of allā¦youāve thought about kissing me, huh? Since when?ā he asks.Ā
Stiles knows what kind of answer Jacksonās expecting. Stories about how hot he is, about the dirty fantasies heās had about him. And Stiles has plenty of those, but the thing is...heās been hit on by a lot of strangers in the past few days, and honestly? Itās not at all as amazing as Stiles always imagined it would be.Ā
It turns out, a lot of aspects of Jacksonās life that Stiles always thought would be amazing are actually anything but.
Itās more annoying than anything, people acting like they have the right to objectify and touch Jackson just because heās pretty ā and heās had to sprint away from more than one hushed conversation about what someone would do to him, or even worse, what someone already thought he did (for a grade, for a spot on a team, for whatever). Itās gross in ways that Stiles doesnāt even want to identify. And Stiles needs Jackson to know that this isnāt that.Ā
So instead, he does the complete opposite.Ā
āLast year, when Isaac was afraid to go to therapy after his dad died, so you went with him and refused to leave his side,ā Stiles says, his voice slow and easy as he feels Jacksonās heart skip around in his chest, the confusion playing on his face.
āA few months ago, when you rented out an entire restaurant for a night so Allison and Lydia could have the perfect anniversary dinner.ā Jackson is bright red now, ducking his head away ā Stiles isnāt having any of that, though, and he gently redirects Jacksonās gaze to him, hand slipping from chin to cheek far too easily.
āEarlier this week, when I realized that you believe in me, even when the rest of the pack doesnāt. Last night, when you were honest with me even though I know you didnāt want to be. And every single time you smile at me, for real, not that annoying fucking smirk you love to throw around.ā
Jackson isnāt even smiling any more. His face is just raw, open, eyes wide and so, so on the brink of disaster, like Stiles is the only thing holding him together, and Stiles feels a thrill at the power ā real power ā more than any wolf trick heād experienced so far. āYou are so good, Jackson.ā
He tilts Jacksonās chin up and tilts his own head, making his intent obvious, but he stops before moving any closer, making it very clear that Jackson has the power here, in whatever they do or donāt do.Ā
āCan I kiss you?ā
Jackson canāt speak, he can only nod his head, but itās enough for Stiles to close the distance between them.
Their first kiss isā¦a kiss. Itās not a clash of teeth and tongue, itās slower, softer, itās sipping champagne instead of tossing back a shot. Thereās no fireworks in the background ā at least, not in Stilesā head ā but instead a cool, low thrum that lights up every nerve from his scalp to his toes. It would be too easy, he thinks, to slip into something filthy ā but that isnāt what Jackson needs right now, isnāt what he needs right now either, so he allows himself exactly three seconds to drag his tongue along Jacksonās lip (and god, it was really, really weird to think that he was technically tasting himself), before pulling back from the kiss.
Jacksonās pupils are blown wide, and Stiles knows his are glowing bright gold. He lets a low noise pull through his throat (the kind of cross between a growl and a purr that he would absolutely make fun of Jackson for making if the tables were turned) as he pulls Jackson closer, nose buried in the crook of his neck.Ā
Jackson finally finds his voice around the same time he buries his fingers in Stilesā hair, kissing his temple as Stiles takes in deep breaths of his scent. āLetās go to bed, okay? Just to bed,ā he clarifies, when Stiles stiffens in shock, another growl leaving his lips when Jackson starts to laugh at him. āJust to bed, you moron. We have a long day ahead of us, but Iām definitely ready to get my own body back so I can kiss you properly.ā
Desperate to save face (even as his own face heated up), Stiles immediately stands up, hooking his hands under Jacksonās knees and effortlessly carrying him up the stairs as Jackson clings to his neck. Heās laughing, though ā they both are ā and by the time they make it upstairs, theyāre both out of breath, looking pleased as punch, even as Stiles playfully chucks the shirt he was wearing at Jacksonās head.
Any awkwardness they may have felt had disappeared, and itās amazing what one kiss can do, even as they both strip down to their boxers (āI will say, I am going to miss your fancy, rich boy, silk briefs.ā āStilinski, if you donāt shut up and cuddle me right the fuck nowāā). They slot together easily, comfortably, and itās almost impossible for Stiles to even think about a time when they werenāt like this with one another.Ā
The emotional toll of the day is catching up with Stiles quickly, but heās more than content to nuzzle into Jacksonās hair, taking in deep breaths of his scent as things start to settle between them.
He still canāt believe he gets to see Jackson like this. Jackson, who always has his walls up, who hides behind a carefully crafted ācool and confidentā version of himself. Heās been mistreated for way too long, by way too many people who are supposed to love and support him, and he still came out of it sweet and caring and considerate despite having no good example set for him. Heās been surrounded by people and still felt lonely, because the attention he gets is hollow and meaningless and none of them actually care.Ā
And heās done all of this while everyone around him makes idiotic assumptions that his life is perfect and he couldnāt possibly have any real problems. Including Stiles.Ā
Fuck, he really needs to apologize for that.Ā
āI can feel you thinking too hard,ā Jackson mumbles, pulling himself out of a half sleep. He turns his head just enough to press a kiss to the base of Stilesā neck, and Stiles melts at how unbelievably soft it all is.Ā
āIām sorry for what I said that night at the river,ā Stiles blurts, because he canāt go another second without saying it.Ā
Jackson blinks a few times and then pulls back enough so he can look Stiles in the eye. He keeps his arm firmly wrapped around Stilesā waist, though.Ā Ā
āYou donāt have to apologize, Stilinski. Weāve both said a lot worse to each other.ā
āI know, but just...shut up and let me say this, okay?ā he asks, waiting for Jacksonās nod before he continues. āI acted like a dick because I assumed you couldnāt understand what I was going through, and that wasnāt fair. You probably understand better than anyone, and Iām sorry I didnāt see that.ā
Jacksonās quiet for a moment, but then he smiles and leans in to give Stiles a gentle peck on the lips.Ā
āYou didnāt see it because I didnāt want you to see it. I didnāt want anyone to see it,ā Jackson says, reaching up to run his fingers through Stilesā hair. āAnd I was okay with nobody seeing it, because youāre right. Poor little rich boy, you know? No one got it, so it was easier to pretend, butā¦I donāt want to pretend anymore. Not with you.ā
Stiles grins so hard it hurts and bumps their noses together, smile growing impossibly wider when he hears Jacksonās heart skip a beat. āGood,ā he says.Ā
Jackson resumes his semi-sentient-ragdoll pose on top of Stiles and lets out what can only be called an āaffectionate grumble,ā doing whatever it is he has to do to make Stiles a more comfortable living pillow. Not that Stiles is going to complain or suggest otherwise. He just waits it out, kissing the top of Jacksonās head when the other male is finally resettled.Ā
āNight, Stiles.ā
āNight, Jacks.ā
āI still hate that nickname.ā
āNo you donāt. Not when it comes from me.ā
ā...fuck.ā
///
Stiles blinks awake entirely too early in the morning, when the sun has barely started to rise, and reaches blindly to pull the blinds over his window, groaning in disappointment when he fails to do so. He hasnāt felt this groggy in ages, but for the moment, heās content to blame any sleepy haze on the warmth spread around him; not even a full night's sleep could make him forget ā even for a moment ā where he is and whoās here with him.Ā
He sighs and lets his head flop down against Jacksonās chest as his eyes start to blearily open, his hand resting in front of his face, thumb rubbing a smooth circle across Jacksonās chest. He gets a low hum in return ā of course Jacksonās already waking up, the idiot is infuriatingly perfect in every way and apparently his internal clock is no exception, even on the weekend.
He takes the opportunity to smile and look up, sleepily taking in Jacksonās form ā his strong jaw and smooth skin, and he takes a moment to raise his hand from Jacksonās chest to cup his face. Jackson, eyes still closed, preens at the attention, and turns to kiss Stilesā wrist. Itās a mental picture he wants to save forever ā Jacksonās breath steady against his pulse point, his tanned lips pressed against Stilesā pale skin ā
His skin is pale.Ā
His skin is pale again.Ā
Stiles bolts upright, his legs straddling Jackson (who makes his feelings about the sudden movement known with a very loud groan). He has both hands cupping Jacksonās face as Jackson opens his eyes, looking cross in a way that used to convey anger and even fear ā now it just looks like a child pouting. Itās adorable.
āJackson, wake the fuck up.ā
To his credit, Jackson is much quicker on the uptake than Stiles was.Ā
āOh, thank god,ā Jackson says, reaching to stroke Stilesā cheek fondly. āI was really starting to miss this pretty face.ā
Stiles blushes from his cheeks all the way down his chest, and it only intensifies when he realizes Jacksonās staring at his flushed skin intently. āShut the fuck up,ā he answers, with absolutely no heat behind it.
āYou gonna make me?ā
āMaybe,ā Stiles says with a shrug, sliding down until heās fully straddling Jacksonās still lying body to capture his lips in a kiss.Ā
It takes less than three minutes for Stiles to forget his own name. He gives impatient little whines, but Jackson pulls away each time they risk going into warmer territory. He would protest more, really, but when Jackson pulls away with a dopey grin on his face and tells Stiles how excited he is to finally do a relationship right, with someone he cares about, dating and wooing, Stiles actually melts. He melts into a puddle because Jackson is a secret sap, even if Jackson is less than amused when Stiles verbalizes his feelings.Ā
āWhatever, Stilinski. Iāve been in your body for a week. We both know about the stash of romance novels you keep hidden behind your comics.ā
Stiles squawks and throws a pillow at Jacksonās face, indignant for all of three minutes.Ā
āWhatever. This just means my expectations are high, you better bring out all your big guns if you plan on wooing me or whatever.ā
āI do, Stiles. I really do.ā
āOh my god Jackson shut up.ā
(They string the pack along for another few days. They would have gone longer, but on Wednesday, Derek is waiting outside Jacksonās garage again, except this time Jackson is Jackson and not Stiles.Ā
But itās probably for the best ā Jackson has a better poker face, and if Stiles had to listen to a heartfelt [or as close to heartfelt as Derek got, which was ānot veryā] apology, he would probably have burst out laughing somewhere between āIām sorry I havenāt been treating you as part of the pack my mother would be so ashamed of me for forgetting the humans role in a packā and āof course I donāt hate Jackson, does he really think I hate him, Iām just worried about him all the time, god what do I do.ā
Jackson does a much better job of taking it all in stride, itās much easier when Derek has a kicked puppy look about him. He reaches up, claps a hand on Derekās shoulder, flashes his blue eyes, and simply tells Derek ādonāt be sorry, be better.ā
And then, of course, any sincerity in the moment is immediately erased when Stiles comes out of the house, idly tapping away at his phone, half a poptart dangling from his lips, asking Jackson āhey babe, do you know why Scott left me three voicemails last night? It sounded like he was crying in the last one, did you hearā¦oh. Hey Derek. Whatās up?ā
Watching Derekās face go from kicked puppy to confused puppy to bright red (when ābabeā finally processed in his brain) before finally settling on something Jackson would refer to as āgassyā is probably the best thing thatās happened to him in a month, Jackson decides.Ā
...Well, second best, he amends as Derek drives away, feeling Stiles kiss his cheek.)
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Summary:Ā After Stiles and Jackson have kissed for the first time, Stiles wants to talk about it.
āSo, like⦠are we gonna talk about it?ā Stiles runs a hand through his hair. āI mean⦠we donāt have to talk about it if you donāt want to talk about it.ā Stiles says as he starts the jeep, heading towards Jacksonās house.
Stiles focuses on the road but out of the corner of his eyes, he sees that Jackson is looking through the window.
āIām not sure ifāā
āWhat do you want to talk about?ā Jackson interrupts him.
āWhat do Iā¦?ā Stiles snorts. āCome on, dude⦠You knowā¦ā The thought that Jackson is actually trying to torture him goes through his mind. It makes sense.
āMaybe I just want to hear you say it,ā Jackson says in the most nonchalant way.
āYouāre an asshole,ā Stiles says, shaking his head, trying not to smile.
āI think that was established a long time ago, wasnāt it?ā
āOk, fine. If you donāt want to talk about it, we wonāt talk about it.ā
āI never said that.ā Jackson chuckles. āActually, I didnāt say anything.ā
āExactly⦠which maybe means that youāre not sure that it was a good idea⦠or you thought it wasnāt a bad idea but then, you kissed me and you realized that it wasnāt a good idea after all. Because maybe it wasnāt⦠it wasnātāā
āWill you please shut up?ā Jackson interrupts him. āWeāre gonna crash... Just drive and shut up. Weāll talk when you stop the car, okay?ā
āOkay, yeah⦠fine⦠whatever.ā Stiles nods and focuses on the road.
Five minutes later Stiles stops the jeep. āOkay, weāre here.ā
Jackson snorts. āYeah, I can see that.ā
There is a moment of silence after that where Stiles avoids looking at Jackson and heās not sure if he should just say goodbye or what but the thing is that Jackson hasnāt moved from his seat.
āOkay, now that our lives -especially yours- are no longer in danger⦠we can talk if you wanna talk,ā Jackson says, taking off the seatbelt.
Stiles takes off his seatbelt too before speaking. āI⦠I just wondered. Iām not sure if what happened⦠I mean, obviously I know what happened but on your side of things⦠why did you kiss me?ā
Jackson smirks. āYou said that like if you didnāt want me to kiss you.ā
āOkay, no⦠no, thatās not what I meant. Iām very much happy that you did...ā Stiles blurts out.
āThen, why do you ask me that? Why did you kiss me? Because I bet that the reason was exactly the sameā¦ā
āWhy did Iā¦?ā
āYeah, just answer the question.ā
āLook, you know I have a somewhat limited catalog of experienceāā
āSomewhat limited?ā Jackson smirks, raising his eyebrows
āOkay, maybe limited is being too generous⦠but this isnāt⦠I meanāā
āYouāre not answering the question.ā
Stiles sighs. āShit⦠okay! But you already know. What do you want me to say? That I like you and I had wanted to kiss you since you brought me those fucking muffins? Or maybe even before thatā¦?ā Shit. He avoids Jacksonās gaze as soon as all that comes out of his mouth. That wasnāt the best way to say it, heās sure of it.
āYou know, I brought you those stupid muffins because I like you too. Not that I didnāt want to see how you were doing but mostly, it was an excuse to spend time with you. A part of me hoped that you could see that.ā Jackson snorts. āThe other part was terrified that you did.ā
āTerrified? Really?ā Thatās hard to imagine.
āYeah. Figuring out that you like a guy isnāt as easy as it seemsā¦ā Thereās sarcasm in his voice but mostly thereās truth. Stiles has learned to see the difference. āAnd that guy being you doesnāt help either.ā
āThanks, dude.ā Stiles smirks, waving his arms.
āCome on, you know what I mean. Weāve neverā¦ā Jackson licks his lips. āYou know, you couldnāt stand meā¦ā before everything that happened... He doesnāt need to say it.
āSure.ā Stiles shrugs. āBut that was because you always acted like I didnāt exist or⦠you were just an asshole to Scott and me⦠Why do I suddenly feel like I need to justify myself?ā It doesnāt make any sense.
āYou donāt. Thatās not what I meant. Just⦠itās taken me a while to accept that Iām actually attracted to you.ā
āIām so sorry itās been so hard.ā Sarcasm all over Stilesās voice.
Jackson chuckles. āItās good to know Iām not the only asshole in this relationship.ā
Stiles hesitates but still, canāt stop what comes out of his mouth.
āIs that what this is? Is this a relationship?ā He says it in the most nonchalant way he can manage but Jacksonās face tells him he didnāt fool him one bit.
āLook⦠I donāt know what this is. We were just friends until twenty minutes ago. And technically, weāre still friends, right?ā
āYeah. Friends. Weāre friends,ā Stiles says, trying not to sound disappointed.
āThis whole thing⦠well, itās taken me by surprise⦠and then, today⦠I guess I didnāt see it coming when maybeā¦ā Jackson waves his right arm. āMaybe I should have... Thatās all.ā
Thatās all? It feels like a lot. It feels like some of the mysteries of the universe were just suddenly explained. Jackson just admitted that he likes him in this conversation⦠thatās pretty huge.
āWell, since weāre being so honest right now, I canāt say with any conviction that I knew what I was doing. Itās not like if I planned it.ā It certainly took him by surprise too.
āStilinski, normal people donāt plan these things. Why are you so determined to make a big deal out of this? Canāt you just chill?ā
āChill? You want me to chill?ā
āYeah. My words, exactly.ā Jackson nods. Stiles has a tendency to overthink everything and he knows heās not going to change him but he can try to reassure him that things shouldnāt suddenly change if they donāt want them to.
āOkay, yeah, I can totally chill as soon as you tell me the plan?"
āThe plan? What plan?ā Jackson asks both amused and curious.
āThe plan.ā Stiles waves his left arm. āLike⦠what do you want to do? Because Iām not telling Scott⦠I think itās better if we donāt tell anybody, right? We should avoid any gossip. I mean, not that thereās anything to tell exactly⦠but I donāt want you to think that Iām gonna go around telling people⦠that would beāā
Jackson snorts, clutches Stilesās shirt with his left hand and grabs Stilesās neck with his other hand, moving forward until his lips find Stilesās, kissing him and knocking his breath out him. Stilesās brain suddenly shifts from trying to figure out where they stand and how to proceed with this new sort of friendship to ecstatically focus on Jacksonās tongue against his own. Stiles makes what Jackson knows is a happy moan and his long fingers grab Jacksonās hair pulling him closer if thatās even possible in that tight space.
Another year, another Stackson Week, celebrating everything Stiles/Jackson!
Stackson Week is for creating romantic/sexual/queerplatonic Stackson content and also supporting their creators. We welcome any and all types of contributions, whether they be fics, art, gifs, playlists, edits, or whatever else you can come up with. The goal is to celebrate Stiles and Jackson, no matter which form it takes.
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The optional themes for 2022:
Ā» DAY 1: Rivals, Enemies, Frenemies, Kismesis || Hating each other passionately has its benefits
Ā» DAY 2: College AU and/or Shenanigans || Whether roommates, tutoring, frat parties, etc, they're ruining it all
Ā» DAY 3: Fake Dating, Project Partners, Teaming up || They have to work together to succeed
Ā» DAY 4: Soulmates and/or Pining || They are meant to be, but that doesnāt always mean they like it
Ā» DAY 5: Magical Mishap and/or Hanahaki || The only thing worse than death is admitting they like each other
Ā» DAY 6: Friends-to-Lovers and/or Established Relationship || Okay, fine, they like each other and they're going to make it the other's problem
Ā» DAY 7: Dealerās Choice || Choose a theme, any theme, now make it Stackson
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These themes are merely suggestions. The more Stackson, the better! You may post multiple works per day or just one or two across the entire week.
Please tag your contributions with #stacksonweek2022 so we can reblog everyoneās work! You can also tag @stacksonweek if you want to make sure we donāt miss a thing.
Reblog to spread the word, and feel free to contact us if you have any further questions!