#werewolf jackson

You often found yourself in the library during the day, studying and doing homework or taking a break and watching anime. You had been sitting there for an hour or so, and it was starting to get busy. It always did around midterms and finals; you were just glad you found your own small table to sit at.

You were working on a paper when someone came up, smiling a bit awkwardly. “Hey, would you mind if I sit here? I’ll be quiet, I promise,” He says, hesitating to sit down. He had an accent that you couldn’t quite place, as it only happened with some words.

When you finish the sentence you were typing and look up, you do your best to hide your surprise at how handsome he was. He was absolutely stunning, making you question your own appearance. “Oh, um, sure,” you say, your cheeks flushing with heat as you make room for him.

“I’m Jackson, by the way,” He says as he pulls out the chair and sits, getting himself comfortable across from you.

“I’m Y/N,” you respond, still blushing.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says, offering a charming smile as he pulls out his laptop.

The next week at the same time, he showed up again and asked, “Y/N, is it alright if I join you?”

You nod, a shy smile finding its way onto your face. “What are you studying?” you eventually ask him, tilting your head slightly.

“Business,” Jackson says, glancing up at you with a smile. “Actually, it’s my masters and I’m focusing on international business. What about you?”

When you tell him, he listens intently and asks polite questions- the right ones, too. Not the usual ones you always get.

The next week you’re running late and stop at the vending machine to grab your favorite candy. Going to your usual table, you do a double take when someone is already there. You pause awkwardly, only to realize it was Jackson waiting there with a second cup of coffee.

“Oh, hey Jackson,” you say, blushing as you join him.

He smiles at you, pushing one of the cups towards you. “I got you a coffee, just the way you like it.”

You suspiciously tilt your head, taking a sip, only to be surprised that it was the way you liked your coffee. “How did you know?” you laugh, getting out your laptop.

“I know some of the workers,” he sheepishly admits. You laugh and open the candy, offering him some.

“I shouldn’t, I’m on a diet,” he says with a pout.

“Oh, come on,” you scoff, raising an eyebrow.

He playfully rolls his eyes before grabbing a piece.

Soon, every Tuesday you would meet up with Jackson in the library. Before midterms, it became every Tuesday and Thursday until finals, when it was almost every day. It was on one of these Thursdays that he asked you, “Are you free tomorrow?”

You tilt your head, wondering what he was getting to. He seemed to always have plans on Fridays during your normal study time, and you tried not to study too late since the library closed early. “Uh, no, I don’t think so? Why do you ask?” you respond.

“Well, I was thinking that I could take you for a date! If you wanted to, that is…”

You could tell he was a little nervous, and you realized you were staring at him blankly. You let out an embarrassed laugh, nodding. “Yes, sorry, I was just… yes, I would like that,” you admit, shaking your head some.

“Great! I can pick you up after your class tomorrow? Just make sure you dress warm!” he says with a grin.

“You already have a plan? What is it? Tell me~?” you ask, pouting a little bit.

“Nope, it’s a secret!” he laughs, smiling brightly. “You have to wait until tomorrow to know!”

The next day, you woke up early to get ready. You wore warm clothes like he said, and did your makeup cutely but not excessively, especially since it seemed like you would be outside. In class, you were extra fidgety and kept checking the clock. It felt like time slowed, but you knew it was from your anticipation.

Right on cue as class ended, your phone vibrated. Checking it, you noticed a text from Jackson saying he was outside the building.

You all but run out of the classroom down to the parking lot, finding him standing outside grinning.

“Will you tell me what we are doing now?” you ask, giving him your puppy dog eyes.

“Maybe,” he teases, leading you to his car. He opens the door for you and even shuts it, getting in on the other side. “Does hiking sound okay? Then takeout and a movie at my place?” Jackson asks. You see a hopeful glint and the worry in his eyes, and your smile grows.

“That sounds wonderful!” you tell him.

“Great!” he says, starting to drive. “You’ll love it! I go here quite often, and it’s very pretty. I’ve seen some deer and some really neat birds before there.”

“Oh, really? Do you know what kinds of birds?” you ask, curious.

“Well, I’m not sure since they’re not the same as back home, but definitely some owls! I went out later than I should have. And I don’t know if it was a falcon, eagle, or hawk. But those too.”

“I think we have all three here,” you laugh.

“Well, that really doesn’t help identify it any, now does it,” he laughs with you.

“Not in the slightest,” you giggle.

“Well I guess if we see them, maybe you’ll know,” Jackson says, turning onto a gravel road.

“What am I, a bird expert now?” you laugh more.

“No, you’re just a native here,” he responds with a little pout.

“Still not a bird expert,” you point out.

“I know, but you will know better than me,” he reasons.

“Maybe, maybe not,” you say, shaking your head as he parks in a small parking lot.

“We are here!” Jackson says, turning off the car. He leads you over to the map by the trail entrance, glancing at it once before heading down.

“We’ll follow the blue markers this time,” he says, pointing them out on the tree.

“What do they mean? You didn’t give me time to read the map,” you say with a huff.

“They mean we’re going the correct way,” he tells you smartly.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!”

“I know. And there’s nothing you can do about it but follow me and find out,” he teases you, taking your hand and leading you.

You’re both careful not to trip over any of the roots or loose rocks, and you start getting glances of white.

“Is that a river?” you ask, glancing at what looked like ice.

“Uh, maybe,” Jackson responded in an unbelievable manner. Of course he knew, he just wasn’t going to tell you.

Eventually, you made it to more of a clearing. Jackson didn’t even have to point to what it was he wanted to show you. You stood in awe instead.

Winter was definitely there, and you knew that since the little fountains on campus were frozen over. But this, this was a sight to behold. The entire river had frozen over, and what must usually be a gorgeous waterfall had frozen over. The water had frozen against the rocks, sharp spears of it dangerously hanging from the main body of water. You swore if the sun was just right, you could see some of the water on the very inside running down inside the thick, frozen ice.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Jackson asks you, his voice hushed. All you could do was nod.

The next Tuesday, you got to the library first. “Want to go on a second date?” you bluntly ask him when he joins you.

He laughs before smiling, nodding. “Of course, I’d love to,” Jackson assures you.

You’re not sure if you can ever end up choosing a favorite date by the time finals end. Your last “date” was taking him to the airport. He was going home for the break, and you wanted to take him.

“I guess this is as far as we can go, huh?” you ask sadly, looking at the security checkpoint.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, Y/N,” Jackson says, fidgeting with his ticket as if he were nervous.

“Well, I’m sure everything will go well…” you say, almost more nervous than he was. “I mean, you’ve flown lots of times before, so this shouldn’t be any different…” you start to ramble in an attempt to console him.

He chuckles a little, gently putting his hand on your shoulder before tilting up your chin.

“Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?” Jackson softly asks, his dark eyes meeting yours.

Your heart leaped in your chest. You thought of him as your boyfriend, but you weren’t sure if you were official or not, so it made you a little nervous. But at his question, your lips smiled on their own, and you nod as much as you can for his hand holding onto your chin. “Yes!” you whisper.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, causing you to blush and nod. Once given consent, he kisses you sweetly.

“I promise I’ll be back soon, okay?” Jackson says as he pulls away and picks up his things.

“Alright… be safe,” you tell him, feeling your cheeks burn.

“I will,” he assures you, kissing your cheek before leaving.

A few days later, when he was over jet lag, you face timed him. You were eating breakfast at the time, and he was eating dinner.

“How are you?” You ask, happy to see him again and hear his voice.

“I’m doing much better now that I get to see my beautiful girlfriend~” he coos playfully, causing you to laugh.

“Okay, okay. How was the plane trip? How are things going back home?” you ask, wanting more details.

“It went well, don’t worry. I am home safe, although it is a bit hectic at times,” he assures you.

“Why is it hectic? You’re on a break~ you need to relax!” you tell him with a huff.

“I know, I know, don’t worry, I am,” he again assures you.

“You better be,” you huff back, pouting slightly.

Just like that, your library dates were replaced with virtual ones. Some days you could only talk for a few minutes, some days you went on for hours. Every now and then, he even would sing you to sleep. You always slept well when he would.

When the holidays came, he ended up sending you a cd of songs he recorded to help you sleep.

When the semester started up again, you would meet in the library Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays this time. You sat at the same table, but also flirted more when you studied. You made sure to keep up your grades, since they were incredibly important to you.

After the initial start up hump of the beginning of the semester, you started to remember something strange about Jackson that you had forgotten or just hadn’t had the time to realize before. It wasn’t quite a gut feeling of danger, but a feeling of something was wrong. He would get sick nearly every month for a few days without fail. In the last week of January, Jackson was out sick for over a week.

The following Monday, Jackson comes back to the library, and you immediately perk up. “Jackson, how are you feeling? Your roommate told me you were sick,” you ask him.

“I was, but I am feeling much better now,” he assures you, smiling.

You felt a tug in your stomach, and you knew he was lying. “Jackson, you get sick more often than… well, anyone I know. What’s wrong?” you insist.

He sighs, his smile faltering. “I have an immune disorder. I don’t like talking about it much, but I often get sick,” he tells you.

So, you believed him.

You believed him until your introductory anatomy course went over autoimmune disorders. He didn’t fit any of the basic descriptions for them. You ended up choosing to do a paper on the topic, so you ended up pressuring him more when he was at your place for a movie date night.

“Jackson, I’ve been working on a paper for autoimmune disorders. I may have to narrow it down to one in particular… So, I was wondering what one you had?” you ask him, wanting to be a supportive girlfriend.

He sighs and seems irritated about it, and you couldn’t quite tell what was wrong. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I just… I feel like I can’t tell you…” he admits, shocking you.

You felt like you had told him everything. You told him about your asthma, how your therapy sessions went, what you wanted to improve on, your insecurities about your body, even sexual things you had thought about eventually exploring with him.

But he couldn’t tell you this? After you told him about your mental health issues? You were shocked and speechless.

After a moment, you finally catch your thoughts. “Jackson… you know you can tell me anything, right?” you say softly, frowning and not realizing you were tearing up.

Jackson’s face softens, and he pulls you into a hug, rubbing your back. “I’m sorry, I know. You’re right,” he soothes, sighing slightly. “I just… don’t want you to hate me or think I am a freak or anything,” he further admits.

“Jackson, I love you. I could never,” you whisper. It was the first time you had said that.

His heart melts at your words, and he started tearing up. You pull away, and he cups your cheeks.

He lets out a short sigh, making up his mind. “Alright baby. Well, I’ll just say it,” he tells you, now opting to hold your hands. Jackson gently squeezes them as he admits, “I’m a werewolf.”

You pause, staring at him as you replay his words in your mind. You then pull away and laugh, shaking your head. “No, seriously Jackson,” you say, feeling anxious. Why would he lie to you?

“I am being serious,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“Then-then prove it,” you say, but it comes out as more of a question.

Jackson sighs softly, tilting his head some. “Alright. Count to ten and come into your room,” he says, going in.

You huff, counting out loud.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

“Four.”

“Five.”

You stand up and head towards your room.

“Six.”

“Seven.”

“Eight.”

“Nine.”

“Ten.”

You turn the doorknob and say, “I’m coming in now.”

You open the door and are immediately greeted with a massive wolf. Oddly enough, he had the eyes of Jackson.

You quickly shut your door, knowing you weren’t allowed to have pets in your building.

“Um…” you begin, staring at him in confusion. You look around the room, wondering where Jackson was, only to notice his clothes on the floor. “So, you’re really-?” you begin, looking at the wolf again.

He nods and you groan, covering your face with your hands.

You hear him jump off the bed, and after hearing snapping and popping, you glance up and see Jackson pulling his pants back on. You quickly look away, your cheeks heating up as you try not to stare at his well defined body.

“Told you so,” he murmurs, smirking because he knew.

"Well this is rather awkward. What immune disorder do I choose to write about now?" You say with a laugh.

"Sorry babe. Let's go watch that movie now, yeah?" He suggests, taking your hand and leading you back to the living room.

After learning about werewolves, Jackson would take you on hiking dates. Sometimes he would run around as a wolf, and other times you would ride him like a horse, which was probably ridiculous to look at, if anyone ever saw you. But he liked to show off.

After finals, you stayed with him for a week. You weren't ready to go home yet, but you already had to move out of the dorm you were staying in.

You were cuddling with him and watching a movie. You felt your insides burn with anxiety, having been wanting to tell him something for a while, but too embarrassed to say. See, once you admitted you were a virgin, Jackson took things very slowly with you. You enjoyed giving him blowjobs after he taught you about how he would knot, and the furthest he went on you was giving you oral once.

But now you felt ready to progress your relationship further, but you didn't know how to say it.

"Jackson," you say, feeling your cheeks heating up.

"Yes, baby?" He says, looking at you. He knew something was up and you needed to tell him something, but he honestly had no idea what it would be.

"I… think I'm ready," you admit, nibbling your lip.

"Ready for what?" He asks, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

"Having sex," you bashfully admit.

"Oh," he says, surprised. "Right now?" He asks, trying not to sound too eager.

You shake your head. "No, not right now. But soon," you assure him, feeling embarrassed.

"Well, I don't mind waiting a little longer," he assures you, kissing the top of your head.

One minute you were grinding on Jackson, making out on the couch. The next, you and Jackson were both naked in bed. He lays you down, hovering over you as he kisses you.

“Jackson, can I give you a blowjob?”

“Don’t worry about making me feel good. I want to eat you out,” he says, pulling away from you and spreading your legs.

“Yes please,” you say, nodding softly.

He kisses your thighs, teasing you by biting and marking them. He knew this made you needy, as your thighs were sensitive. Jackson eventually kisses your clit, causing you to moan. He smirks as he licks your folds, maintaining eye contact as you blush.

“We’ve done this how many times? And you always get so bashful,” Jackson gently teases, quickly going to work.

He sucks your clitoris, his tongue flicking it as your juices leak out and onto his chin. Your hand grabs his hair, tugging as you moan. Jackson uses his strong arms to keep your legs open. He notices your hole clenching around nothing, boosting his ego.

Jackson inserts a finger, curling it up against your g spot, which causes you to cry out his name.

“You’re doing so good for me,” he whispers against your folds, pausing his kisses to your mound as he adds a second finger, working on stretching you out.

“Feels so good,” you whine, gasping as he adds a third finger. “I’m close,” you pant, reaching down to rub your clit. Jackson stops you and pulls out his fingers with a smirk.

“Jackson?!” you gasp, pouting that he took away your orgasm.

“I want to cum with you,” he explains, smiling sweetly.

You sigh and lay your head back down, nodding.

“Are you sure you don’t want to use condoms?” Jackson checks, raising an eyebrow.

“Positive. You said yourself I wasn’t fertile,” you admit, blushing some.

“Alright,” he says, teasing your folds with his tip. Jackson watches as your hole clenches around nothing, desperately wanting his cock.

“Please Jackson,” you huff, not liking how he began to rub his cock against your folds.

“I’m getting myself lubricated,” Jackson smugly responds, grinding into you, tapping his cock against your swollen bud.

“Fuck~” you cry, pulling your hair. “Please Jackson, I want to have sex with you,” you beg, tearing up in need.

“Hmm, alright,” Jackson says, slowly sliding his tip inside of you. He grabs your hands and kisses you, letting you adjust to his girth. He slowly slides in, huffing into your ear softly.

“Jackson, please move,” you beg once he bottoms out.

“Yes ma’am,” he teases you, starting with slow thrusts. Jackson greedily watches your breasts bounce with each thrust, a near-feral grin finding its way on his face.

“Faster, please,” you murmur, doing your best to keep your eyes open as you squeeze his hands.

He readily obliges, and you groan as the sound of skin slapping skin fills the room with both of your moans.

“I’m not gonna last that long,” he admits with a laugh.

You nod and he lets go of one of your hands, rubbing your clit. You grab your breast and pinch your nipples, stimulating yourself as you near your high.

He suddenly begins to cum with a loud groan of your name, his thrusts harder than before. You cry out in pleasure, which soon turns into a whimper as he begins to knot you.

“You’re doing so well, Y/N, you’re doing so good,” Jackson begins to praise. It takes all of his strength not to collapse on top of you, but he manages to nuzzle into your neck and kiss your sweet spot there.

You groan softly, brushing your damp hair out of your eyes. “I love you,” you say, smiling tiredly.

“I love you too.”

You wake up the next day naked and alone in bed. You look around, wondering where Jackson went. “Jackson?” you softly call, looking for him.

But something about his apartment was… off.

You carefully get up, your legs feeling a bit weak, and go use the bathroom. His toothbrush and razor were missing.

You go out into the kitchen and living room, and still no Jackson.

When you go back into the bedroom, you notice that his phone was missing. You open the closet and his dresser, and there were no clothes.

On reconsideration, though, he’s not sure he can handle allof this touching. He’s pretty surethings were better when he could paralyze people on the spot.

But he knows that Derek willtake him down if he doesn’t improve his control, so he takes a deep, steadyingbreath, and lets his claws slide free. He raises them up so Scott can see themover his shoulders.

“Great,” Scott says, sounding genuinely enthusiastic. “Nowretract the claws, and shift only your face.”

His hands slide down to Jackson’s biceps, and when hesqueezes gently Jackson has to suppress a shiver.

It turns out that Lydia isn’t into the fangs, glowing eyes,and sudden hair growth at all—despitethe fact that it’s a definite improvement over his lizard stage—so they’d splitup not long after he’d changed. And it wasn’t that big of a deal, she was justsomething else in his life to make him look good, but it did mean that he hadn’t gotten laid in weeks. And that was making the touch of Scott’s hands affect him alittle too much.

Even worse, the way Scott smiled at him sometimes madeJackson’s heart feel like it was growing in size, and he didn’t like that one bit.

“How will you even know?” he asks gruffly, trying not tolean back into Scott like he wants to. “You’re standing behind me.”

“Trust me, I’ll be able to tell,” Scott says easily.

Jackson’s still working on the whole ‘listen to theheartbeat’ thing, but he’s pretty sure Scott’s not lying. Jackson’s never seenhim this confident and centered, and it’s honestly kind of intriguing.

He takes a slow breath, feeling Scott’s hands skim acrosshis arms, and lets himself shift. He manages to do it smoothly, despite thedistracting warmth and scent of Scott behind him.

There’s a short pause, and then Scott leans in until hischeek is almost touching Jackson’s, his chest bumping lightly against Jacksons’back. “Nice try,” he says, breath tickling against Jackson’s skin. “But yourclaws are out.”

Dammit.

 *

 Scott had wanted to meet every day after school, but Jacksonhad sneered and shot that down real quick,claiming it’d be too damaging to his reputation. Especially considering thatLydia is still ignoring him completely.

He’s apparently being punished for that now, since theaddress Scott texted him after class has turned out to be an old, creepyabandoned building.

Which absolutely stinksof garlic.

Jackson grimaces, and Scott leans out of the doorway tolaugh at him. “You’re going to have to work on that poker face,” he says. “Orjust never go into an Italian restaurant ever again.”

“Fine by me,” Jackson grumbles, but Scott ignores him.

“So, your task for today is to find the source of all thatgarlic smell,” he says, with too much enthusiasm.

“I’m not a drug-sniffing dog,” Jackson says snidely,eyebrows raised.

“Not yet,” Scott says cheerfully. “And I’m not even askingyou to find drugs. So go on, make me proud.”

Jackson gives him his best scowl, then takes a quick breath,trying not to wince. He makes his way cautiously through the doorway, hearingScott follow close behind him, then makes his way around the perimeter of thebuilding.

There are shelves with old paint cans and dusty cardboardboxes, and normally Jackson wouldn’t enjoy those smells, but this time they’rea brief respite from the pervasive smell of garlic. He keeps moving, pastwooden pallets and broken pieces of plastic, and picks up several garlic scent-trails.

He turns to look at Scott, who’s standing in the middle ofthe warehouse. “What did you do, smear it everywhere with your hands?” he askssarcastically.

“I might have,” Scott says, putting on his innocent face. Itdoesn’t fool Jackson for a second. “Just a little.”

Sure enough, Jackson finds that one of the trails leadsfaintly back to Scott. He gives Scott a suitably disgusted look, then returnsto his search. It takes several tries, but eventually he zeroes in on thesource, finding the open jar under a coil of rope.

“You did it!” Scott says brightly, like Jackson just scoredthe winning goal of the game. He reaches toward Jackson for what’s likely ahug, but Jackson shies away before those garlic-hands can make contact.

“I need some fresh air,” he says, heading for the door. Hetosses the open jar at Scott on his way out, smirking.

He gets a few blissful moments of peace before Scott joinshim. He doesn’t smell any more like garlic than he did before, so his reflexesmust be pretty good. Though Jackson would never admit that out loud, of course.  

“Okay,” Scott says, ignoring Jackson’s surly look. “Nexttask is to find Derek.” He points toward the forested area behind the building,raising his eyebrows.

“What? He’s here?”Jackson demands. No matter how much he strains his ears, he can’t hear anythingout there except a few birds.

“Not really,” Scott says, shrugging. “But I hid one of hisshirts for you to find.”

“You realize I’m also nota bloodhound, right?” Jackson says. “Besides, I thought Stiles was the one whodid all the dog jokes.”

“There are hunters in this town. We have to be able to findother members of our pack in case something happens,” Scott says, unperturbed.“It’s a basic skill, so I’d hoped you’d be able to master it.”

Jackson bristles at that, even though he knows that’sexactly what Scott wants. “Oh, I fucking will,” he growls, then stomps off intothe trees.

“Good,” Scott says cheerfully. “I’ll be timing you!”

No pressure, thenJackson thinks, moving faster and trying to catch even a hint of Derek’s scent.

It’s usually sharp with anger, distinct, but even as hetakes a wider loop he can’t find it. He does catch other scents, though:Isaac’s oddly sweet but slightly fearful one, and the mixed smells of Erica’sperfume and hairspray.

He’s temped to follow thosescents, find out why they were here and where they went, but he resists theurge. He needs to stay on-task. He needs to provehimself.

So he keeps going despite his mounting frustration, but itseems like the more he tries to find only Derek’s scent, the more all the other smells just cover it up. There’ssuddenly an overwhelming amount of them, and he starts to tense up, shaking alittle as the helpless feeling of failure starts to wash over him. Maybe he can’t do this after all.

But then he takes a deep, shuddering breath and pretendsScott is behind him again, hands on his shoulders, grounding him. It takes amoment, but the rush of bitter insecurity fades, and Jackson closes his eyesand lets the tension slowly bleed out of him.

It’s then that he faintly picks up Derek’s scent, with justa hint of Scott’s cinnamon smell with it. He cautiously heads in thatdirection, stopping and closing his eyes every time he loses the trail.

This calm process eventually leads him to one of Derek’sshirts, laid carefully across a rock. Jackson tosses it over his shoulder, thendecides to complete a bonus round and find Scott, too.

He’s much easier to locate—Jackson picks up his scent almostimmediately, and follows it along a narrow path to a small clearing. Scott’ssitting on a log in the middle of it, watching a pair of birds with a littlesmile on his face. He brightens when he sees Jackson. “You found it,” he saysproudly. “Good work.”

Jackson nods. “I’m a little surprised you weren’t rightthere when I did.”

“I was tempted, but I decided it’d be better if I gave yousome space.”

Jackson breathes a quiet sigh of relief. Scott missed hisnear-breakdown, then.

“Hey,” Scott says to catch his attention, then points to atrail between the trees. “We’re done for the day. That’ll take you straightback to the parking lot.”

Jackson goes, but finds himself oddly tempted to stay.

 *

 Jackson doesn’t exactly have plans Friday night—he’d alwayslet Lydia decide where they were going and what they were doing—so when Scotttexts him and asks him to come over, he doesn’t have to think long before heagrees.

“What sort of training are we doing today?” he asks whenScott answers the door. “Werewolf acrobatics? Howling 101?” He tries to soundput-upon, but he’s honestly happy to be here. He was getting bored sitting inhis room, especially with Danny at the Jungle and barely answering his texts.

“What?” Scott says, eyebrows pulling together. He gesturesJackson inside, points to the pizza boxes waiting on the coffee table. “No, Ifigured we could use a break from all the training. We can just hang out, watcha movie or something.”

Previously, Jackson would have been tempted to make a snideremark about losers with nothing to do on Friday nights, but he’s beginning tothink it wasn’t Scott who was the loser all this time. “It better not be TheNotebook,” he says automatically, then rolls his eyes at himself. He’s not withLydia anymore, he never has to watch that movie again.

Scott just laughs. “Wouldn’t be my first choice, either. Youcan pick something for us to watch, if you want,” he says, pointing to the DVDrack.

Jackson tries not toshow how thrown—and pleasantly surprised—he feels, and casually strolls over tolook at the selection.

It becomes apparent that some of the movies must beStiles’—he can’t imagine Scott owning a documentary on termites. He scans thetitles several times, but he’s so distracted by Scott’s presence, by thekindness Scott is showing him, that he ends up grabbing a DVD at random.

He’s just loading it into the player when Scott flips thelids on the pizza boxes, and the smells hit Jackson full-force. “Hey, is thatsausage and pepper?” he asks, glancing over. It’s his favorite, but he didn’tthink anyone knew that.

The other box just has a plain pepperoni pizza, and Scottgrabs a slice out of it as he says casually, “Yep, just for you.”

He sends a bright smile Jackson’s way, and he feels hisheart pick up in response.  Scott’streating him like they’re friends orsomething, despite Jackson’s admittedly dickish behavior toward him through theyears. He doesn’t know quite what to make of that.

So he eats his pizza and pretends to watch the movie, thoughhe mostly just tries not to stare at Scott, who’s strangely captivating here,comfortable and confident in his own environment.

“You know,” Scott says after a little while, “we should playsome lacrosse out back. See how much your skills have improved—I know you’vebeen holding yourself back at practice.”

“Can’t suddenly be amazing overnight,” Jackson says with apointed smirk. “That’d be too suspicious.”

To his surprise, Scott smiles. “Don’t want people thinkingyou’re on steroids?” he asks playfully.

“Yeah, can’t have them finding out about this juice,” Jackson snorts, clawsbared, and Scott sends him a knowing grin.

There’s a long silence after that, and Jackson staresmindlessly at the screen while Scott eats his last slice of pizza. Jackson’sstill getting used to the capacity of his werewolf stomach, so his box is onlyhalf empty. He looks at it contemplatively for a moment, then says, “I thinkthe part that’s going to be suspicious is the fact that I don’t hate myco-captain anymore.”

Scott looks absurdly pleased by that, so Jackson rolls hiseyes and adds, “You really are a goodco-captain, I just didn’t want to admit it.”

Scott’s smile, if possible, gets even wider. “I’m stilltrying to figure it out, but—”

“Nope,” Jackson cuts in, then has a moment of disbelief thathe’s actually going to say this, but, “you understand their strengths and howto use them better than I do. I tend to just yell at them until thingsimprove.”

“Yeah, that’s also the Coach Approach,” Scott says,laughing.

Jackson tries not to join it, but he can’t help it. “Hey, atleast when I give a motivational speech, it’s not a direct quote fromIndependence Day.”

“Fair enough,” Scott says. “Though if I’m rememberingcorrectly, yours go more like ‘get outthere, and don’t fuck up’ so I’m not that impressed.”

“I don’t talk like that,”Jackson protests, full-on belly laughing now, tears prickling at the corners ofhis eyes. “You sound ridiculous.”

Scott grins, and doesn’t deny it.

They make fun of Coach for a while longer, then let theconversation drift to other subjects—though Jackson doesn’t mention Allison,who broke up with Scott a couple of weeks ago, and Scott doesn’t mention Lydia,who still isn’t interested in resuming their relationship—and he enjoys it morethan he ever thought he would.

 *

 “So, what’s your anchor?” Isaac asks, boosting himself upand sitting on the counter like a heathen. “You figured it out yet?”

“My what?” Jacksonsays, eyes on Isaac’s smirking face.

“You’re in training, and you haven’t learned that yet?” Erica says disbelievingly asshe saunters over. “You know, your anchor.What you think about when you want to control your shift.”

“Mine is my pervasive, nameless dread of the future,” Isaacsays with complete seriousness, then rolls his eyes at Jackson’s look. “I’mkidding, obviously. But I’m not telling you what it actually is.”

“You mean who itis,” Erica says smugly. “And we all know that it’s Stiles, so don’t even playlike it’s not.”

Isaac busies himself with fixing his scarf, and doesn’t sayanything.

Erica grins victoriously. “Mine’s Boyd, by the way.”

“Are you his, then?” Jackson asks curiously.

“I think his anchor is his own force of will,” Erica says,shrugging. “His control is amazing.”

“So, have you found your anchor yet?” Isaac asks again.

Jackson immediately flashes to the image of Scott standingbehind him, hands a soothing weight on his shoulders, encouraging him to stayin control. Remembers how much Scott’s scent settles him, how Scott was his first thought when he got frustrated,and how that had calmed him almost immediately.

“I think I have,” he says cautiously, though he doesn’t evenwant to admit it to himself. He’s let himself get attached. And to Scott McCall, of all people.

“Yeah, I figured,” Erica says, giving him a knowing look.

Jackson sneers to cover up his worry, then heads out of thekitchen and into the open area of the loft, trying not to think about Scott.

 *

 He shows up at Jackson’s locker on Friday afternoon,standing closer than Jackson would normally be comfortable with. His scentwraps around Jackson like a warm blanket, and he has to fight the urge to leanin and bury his face against Scott’s neck.

“Your first full moon as a werewolf is coming up,” Scottsays, as though Jackson could have somehow forgotten. “Do you want to comeover? Or would you rather be at your house for that?”

Why can’t I do italone? He nearly asks, but finds that he doesn’t really want to. “Myhouse,” he says, because he wants to be somewhere comfortable and familiar.

“Okay,” Scott says easily. “I’ll bring some snacks andstuff, and come over later.”

Jackson nods, and Scott gives him a sunny smile, hisshoulder brushing against Jackson’s before he goes.

 *

 Honestly, Jackson’s a little disappointed at howanti-climactic the whole thing is.

His family isn’t home—he knew they wouldn’t be—but itdoesn’t even matter, because nothing particularly unusual happens. (Sure,there’s a little bit of howling, because he couldn’t resist, and Scott hadpromptly joined in. Then he’d had to call Derek and let him know they were bothfine.)

And he feels kind of reckless and full of energy, butScott—god help him, his anchor—isright there with him, so he’s not too worried about it.

They go for a late-night run around the neighborhood, eatthe high-carb snacks Scott brought, then play their intense, werewolf-versionof lacrosse in the backyard.

At some point they end up wrestling on the floor of theliving room, teeth bared and growling, but there’s no actual malice in it. Theypin each other a few times, snap their jaws when they do, then laugh as theyroll apart.

Jackson wakes up in the morning tucked into his bed, feelingalmost hungover. Scott’s sprawled out on the blankets next to him, lookingtotally relaxed and not much worse for wear.

Jackson blinks sleepily, considers his options, then inchesa little closer and goes back to sleep.

 *

 “Dude,” Danny hisses, cornering Jackson as he steps out ofthe Porsche. “Why didn’t you tell me you were dating Scott?”

“I’m not,” Jackson snaps out, feeling his heart jolt. “Whywould you think that?”

Danny gives him a condescending look. “Maybe because youhaven’t whined about him stealing your glory for weeks, or because I’ve seen you willingly talking with him afterschool. Or maybe because his car was parked in front of your house all weekend.”

“We we’re just…hanging out,” Jackson tries weakly.

Danny doesn’t look convinced. “You know, when he was askingme weird questions, like what your favorite kind of pizza was, I didn’t knowwhat was going on. But now it’s all starting to make sense.” He levels a sternlook at Jackson. “And if you’re notinterested, you better let him down soon. Nobody likes to be led on, Jax.”

“It’s not like that,” he grumbles, pushing past Danny andhurrying toward the front doors.

It’s not like thatbetween him and Scott, he’s sure of it. But that doesn’t explain why he feelsso off-balance.

And it doesn’t mean he doesn’t want there to be something.

 *

 “Okay,” Scott says, pulling Jackson into his house andgiving him a smile that looks a little sharp. “We’re going to work on yourcontrol today.”

“Haven’t we done that a bunch of other times?” Jackson sayswryly. “And we’re not even close to another full moon. I think I’m fine.”

He’s promptly shoved up against a wall, Scott’s handspressing hard against his chest. He feels his fangs itching at his gums, readyto drop, but he manages to hold them in. He can’t have Scott proving him wrongthis early.

“Different kind of test,” Scott says, fingers digging intoJackson’s shoulders. “And you can stop me any time you want, okay?”

“What?” Jackson says automatically. Usually his training isnot presented as optional.

“See, when I first turned, my control was pretty good,”Scott says, breath washing warmly against Jackson’s neck, and he struggles notto shiver. “Except when thinks got a little more…intimate.”

Scott’s lips are suddenly pressed against his throat, his handssliding slowly down Jackson’s chest. “So the question is,” he says, tonguedarting out across the curve of Jackson’s collarbone, “can you stay in control now?”

His hands drag down and slip under Jackson’s shirt,fingertips stroking along Jackson’s hips, and it’s too much.

“Do I have to?” he growls out, yanking Scott up and into akiss. You don’t need that kind of control if you’re with another werewolf. He’s digging his claws into Scott’s hair and intothe back of his shirt, but he doesn’t care. Not when he’s too busy tastingScott, savoring the way he feels pressed tight against him.

And Scott kisses him back eagerly, rucking Jackson’s shirtup as his hands move higher, thumbs skating across Jackson’s nipples. He canfeel Scott’s strength humming just under the surface, and being surrounded bythe scent of his arousal makes Jackson feel intoxicated and craving more.

He grinds up against Scott, reveling in the sound he makes,and feels the sharp bite of Scott’s claws against his skin. He pulls away,grinning. “Looks like I’m not the only one who needs to work on control.”

“Around you,” Scott says, licking his lips, “it definitelytakes more work.”

“Good,” Jackson says, feeling entirely too pleased. He stillhas a hand buried in Scott’s hair, but he doesn’t plan on moving it, using itinstead to pull him in close again. “What made you think I’d go for this?”

“There were a few clues,” Scott says with a smile, fingerstracing over Jackson’s abs. “Like the fact that you kept calling me Scott instead of McCall.”

Jackson blinks. He’s not sure when that happened. He hadn’teven noticed.

“And I overheard your conversation with Danny in the parkinglot. When you said there was nothing between us,” Scott says, hand restingwarmly in the center of Jackson’s chest, “your heartbeat changed. That’s when Iknew that I had to make a move.”

“Considering you actually called it training,” Jackson says teasingly, leaning in to run his lipsacross Scott’s jaw, “I think you could use some more practice.”

A month ago, he’d been pissed about losing his girlfriend,thinking she was his best option. But he hadn’t considered that he could get aboyfriend instead.

He’s considering it now, though.

“You going to give me that practice?” Scott asks, lookingamused.