A/N: Finally the continuation is here. Hopefully I can finish by the new year buuuuttttt...I won't make any promises.
Warning - There is a Jackson/Stiles sex scene in the beginning of this story but it is foremost a Sterek story. Actually, I wasn't even sure to include it or imply it and whether including it hurts the story. So if you think it sucks let me know and I'll edit it out.
Oh, I don't think I mentioned in the first story: when Stiles copied the whereabouts of the werewolves protected by Derek on the USB drive he also deleted the info off of the servers. So Stiles now has the only copy.
Enjoy. As always criticism is welcomed.
(update - Oct 4, 2016) Special thanks to aeron4 for translating this in German. Link: www. fanfiktion. de/ s/ 57dd43f0000092bd1bd9bfd7/ 1/ What-s-yours-is-mine
(just delete the spaces) Thank you so much for your work!
"Are you fucking kidding?" Jackson's loud exclamation reverberated throughout the living room of Stiles' apartment. Luckily, one of the benefits of living where Stiles resided, on the border of the bad side of the city, was a lack of interest in the yelling matches of neighbors. Loud vocal disagreements were a daily occurrence in his apartment building and neighborhood.
"Dude, did you not hear the part where we make double what we would have gotten with the Argents? Double. That's this many if it's too high a number to conceive," Stiles held two fingers in front of Jackson's face before having it smacked away.
"I don't care, Stilinski." Using Stiles' last name was never a good sign with Jackson. Stiles braced himself for this conversation to go on for a while. He really thought the business savvy guy would appreciate the lucrative change in circumstances. "We had an arrangement with the Argents and we have to uphold our end. You don't screw over these people without consequences."
Stiles had to admit the thought never crossed his mind, Danny's pensive look spoke the same for him. In Stiles' defense, he did learn the existence of werewolves - something that would cause anyone to not think at 100%. However, Danny didn't have the same excuse, so maybe he should share in the scolding too.
"Okay...then we'll give them a bit of compensation for backing out of our deal. We have enough money to offer something to them." Stiles compromised.
"Yep, but nothing too overboard. It's not like they paid us upfront." Danny added.
"That's not the point. I'm trying to get on their good side for future business. Just because the two of you are slinking away with your balls between your legs doesn't mean I don't want build something more. And the Argents are part of my plan, they have the connections I need. It's the least you can do after abandoning me." Jackson argued, staring vehemently at his former partners.
Stiles scrunched his brows at the logic in Jackson's last statement. "The least we could do? After the last gig, you're lucky we even bothered working with you again. The Calaveras had us smuggling harvested organs across the border. We never signed up for some shit like that." By the time Stiles and Danny had found out, it was too late to go to the authorities without being charged as accessories. "And from what Der- what Hale said, the Argents would have used the info we stole to hunt down innocent people."
"So, what...you trust this guy you've known for less than half an hour?" Jackson huffs out a hollow sounding laugh. "I thought you were smarter than that, Stilinski."
"I'm smart enough to know a good deal when I see one. And when to walk away from a fire before I get burned. God, I don't understand why you want to keep this lifestyle anymore."
"Jackson, you should quit with us. We made it this far successfully because we had each other's backs. Who are you going to rely on now to have yours?" Danny said softly, trying to reason with his best friend. Danny knew it was like talking to a brick wall but he had to make an effort, if there was a slight chance he would be heard.
"Myself. It's all I need anyway." Jackson answered back.
Stiles peered out the curtain of living room window, the bright sunlight eased the urge to smack some sense into his opposing partner. "Yeah, we'll see how long that lasts."
"You will, Stilinski. Once I smooth things over with the Argents I'll be able to branch out from these lame data heists and get into where the real money is: Weapons, Drugs, Vehicles. The two of you will have enough to pay off some measly debts and have some cash to tide you over for a couple of years, then what? I can be set for life." A chuckle seeps from Jackson's throat. "Maybe instead of getting me to join your loser path, you both should reconsider and come back with me. You were right about us working well together. Don't be stupid."
"Not a chance, man." Stiles quickly responded, not relenting from his stance in the slightest.
"Ditto, we've seen the type of people who you're trying to hop into bed with, Jackson. Me and Stiles can see with clarity the direction that path will take you. And it's not a pretty one." Danny imparted his sage remarks to his best friend.
"Then you both need glasses." Jackson said sharply.
Stiles was fed up and closed the curtain with more force than necessary, turning back to the group. "You know what, we're going in circles here. The deal is with Hale now. Continue to bitch about it or get on board."
"Two to one, bro, you lose." Danny concurred.
"Fine...fucking short sighted idiots." Jackson finally let go and accepted the new arrangement.
"Thank you. Later guys, call me when lobby guy gets in touch." Danny winked to Stiles at the inside joke. "Jackson, seriously think it over...we do care about you and don't want to see you hurt. Stiles, try to talk some sense into him, please."
Jackson and Stiles say their goodbyes to the tech genius of their group, their officially defunct group. The two men stood standoffishly in the middle of the living room staring at each other after their friend's departure.
"So...do you want to argue some more or is this where we part ways?" Stiles asked with his hands in his pocket to keep from scratching various parts of his head and neck, a trait Stiles performed when he didn't know what to do with himself.
"Is there a third option?" Jackson warmed his features, banishing his scowl, and wore a salacious smirk as Stiles huffed out a surprised laugh. With the way Jackson was staring daggers at him earlier, Stiles assumed Jackson was planning on staying mad at him for the foreseeable future.
"Sorry, but the third option is no longer on the table." Knowing full well what the man standing across from him meant.
"How about on the bed then...for old time's sake?" Jackson responded as he moved closer to Stiles who stayed rooted in position with arms crossed in front of his chest, a weak attempt to deter any advances from Jackson. The attempt was unsuccessful as the distance between the two men vanished completely, Jackson stroking the sides of Stiles' tense arms and leaning in to whisper in his ear. "I didn't hear a 'no'."
Stiles cursed himself and gave in to a kiss, mild and testing. Old feelings resurged within Stiles, remembering times in the past after a successful mission. Sex always felt like the only way for Stiles and Jackson to express anything for each other without sniping and insulting each other. He dropped his arms to cupped the side of Jackson's face, intensifying the kiss.
Soon, all Stiles could think of was the lack of a prickly sensation on the edge of his lips when they brushed against Jackson's clean shaven face. The lack of differing height, however slight, when he didn't need to tilt his head upward to engage a lip locking battle. The missing smell of manly musk and leather as he pressed his body against Jackson. There was no mix of green and hazel looking back from the blue eyes in front of him when Jackson pulled back and led them to his small bedroom.
Suddenly, the rising desire he felt started to wane and Stiles knew clearly why that was happening. He wasn't kissing Derek. That's not to say he wasn't enjoying himself, or rather enjoying Jackson. He'd have to be dead not to enjoy the stunning specimen holding his biceps, leading him to his bedroom. Plus, Jackson was doing his, what Stiles called, model face where his bottom lip plumped out begging to be sucked and nipped, or placed around Stiles' steadily growing erection. Besides, what did it matter if he'd rather be with Derek Hale right now than Jackson. Stiles and Derek had a business arrangement, nothing more than an exchange of desired items would commence between the two. Although, Stiles thought their meeting in the lobby wouldn't have been able to lead to anything and an hour or so later he knew how satisfying a scruffy beard felt during a kiss. Or how he really enjoyed having his ass grabbed.
When Stiles' wrist was grabbed to lead him further to the bed, he flinched and jerked his hand back to release himself from Jackson. Stiles showed Jackson the reason of the adverse reaction to erase the confusion on Jackson's face. "The night didn't go as smoothly as I let on."
"You still trust him after this?" Jackson asked as he inspected the bruised wrist by rolling back the sleeve of Stiles' flannel shirt.
"What can I say - I wasn't exactly an innocent party in the situation, dude. Besides, if you knew what he was really capable of then you'd know this," shakes his forearm, "was him being nice."
"That isn't as comforting as you're trying to make it sound."
Stiles silenced Jackson's returning protests about Derek by running his fingers through Jackson's stylish coif and exploring his mouth with a distracting tongue.
Shortly after, the kiss ended as Jackson pushed Stiles' pants down to his ankles and then Stiles' body down on the bed. Stiles was startled by Jackson's swift action when he dropped down his knees and plummeting a warm, wet mouth over Stiles half hard dick. Even though Stiles never complained, he and Jackson had a give and take transaction in the bedroom, respectively. Stiles stopped wondering why the change now when the slit of his full erection was met with the lapping of Jackson's tongue. For a guy who didn't offer head often, Jackson had some decent skills. Jackson stopped teasing the tip and engulfed as much of the hard cock with gusto. Stiles' position on his elbows, watching Jackson give his undivided attention to Stiles, crumpled as Stiles fell on his back staring at the ceiling. Drifting thoughts of Derek edged at the back of his mind.
"Fuck, Jackson." Stiles sighed out heavily, careful to remember exactly who was giving him his pleasure. His night with Derek left him horny and frustrated with only a small morsel to satiate his desire for the werewolf. He wished he done more, touched more of Derek. Stiles internally cursed himself for continuing to think of Derek Hale while with the gorgeous, widely sought after Jackson Whittemore of Stiles' hometown.
Jackson kept his cheeks hollowed and bobbed with eager suction. The steady rhythm felt so damn good that Stiles had to bite on his hand to keep the string of curse words wanting to erupt from his grateful mouth, preventing his neighbors to hear what he was up to through the thin walls. "Jackson, shit...I'm gonna cum soon."
Jackson removed his mouth causing an obscene popping noise straight from a porn. "Good I want you to cum." Stiles had his drooled-over shaft stroked by Jackson's firm hand. "Gonna make you cum all over yourself." Jackson panted out. After his shirt was hiked up over his neck, Jackson made well on his panting promise with several fast tugs. Stiles grunted and writhed his legs in what looked like a violent seizure. Stiles' eyelids were shut tight as streams of white were released from his pleasured dick painting his abs.
Stiles was confused at the feel of more hot, thick wetness raining on his chest after he was drained. He opened his eyes to see Jackson standing over him pumping his beautifully abused cock. Stiles felt a twinge of disappointment at not being able to be the one to bring about Jackson's release. "Now go clean yourself up, Stiles." Jackson smirked as he leaned down to smear his seed around on Stiles' chest, playing with the cooling cum left on Stiles' body and emphasising the need for a shower.
Jackson had never volunteered to go down on Stiles with no reciprocation before. Maybe, this being their last time together before separating was the reason behind it.
"Care to join me?" Stiles asked after he stepped into the warm spray streaming behind the shower curtain.
"Tempting, but I have a party to get ready for. Some important clients to meet." Jackson declined, tying his sneakers as he sat on the edge of the toilet seat.
Stiles swallowed his concerned words, not wanting to bring up how different Jackson has been acting lately and the sketchy people he was beginning to associate himself with. If they could end things like this: a good time with a good friend, Stiles would be happy. And he would hope Jackson wouldn't do anything stupid as he continued the life Stiles would be signing off from permanently.
Stiles' head peeked out of the shower curtains to keep talking to Jackson, maintaining his stance to keep things light. "Anything to avoid cleaning up, huh?"
"You know me so well." Jackson responded, standing up completely dressed. "Hey, Stiles?" Trying to gain Stiles' attention after the thief disappeared under the warm spray .
"Still here, Jackson. I didn't wash away down the drain."
The shower curtain slid slightly with Jackson's head peeking through. Stiles looked behind him when he heard the metal rings on the curtain rod clink together. "Just couldn't stay away, huh, can't say I blame you." Stiles beamed, wiping away water from his face to see Jackson more accurately.
"Um, I -" Jackson his voice cracked as he ducked his head eyes focused downward, not sounding or looking his usual cocky self. Stiles assumed Jackson was looking at his body but upon closer inspection Jackson was just avoiding looking Stiles in the face. "I wanted to say that - I wish you luck with...whatever the hell you plan on doing. It was...it was a great time working with you...and Danny. I couldn't have asked for better partners...or friends." Jackson awkwardly cleared his throat, not used to being so vulnerable.
Stiles could barely feel the hot water hitting his back or droplets falling into his eyes. Jackson was actually admitting not only were they friends, but that he cared about him.
"Promise you'll take care for yourself and don't do anything stupid." Jackson finally looked up and nodded obediently. "I hope you find what you're looking for." Stiles leaned forward and pressed a warm, water soaked hand to the side of Jackson's cheek and kissed him chastely on the lips as a goodbye, hoping to convey that they did mean something to each other.
Jackson made his way out of the bathroom and out of Stiles' life to start his own journey. Stiles prayed silently that it wouldn't be a short one. Maybe he should have done more, said more, fought more. But he wasn't Jackson's keeper. Jackson was dead set on doing things his way, that much was clear.
The sun was beginning to set when Stiles stepped out the bathroom connected to his bedroom, wrapped in a towel. He had an extra towel currently being used to dry his hair, rubbing vigorously to rid himself of any moisture, while he blindly made his way to the dresser on the other side of the room. It was easily accomplished with the layout of his small living space memorized, a trait honed during his career as a burglar. As he set aside his hair drying towel and opened the front of the towel around his waist, about to drop it for an air dry, a throat cleared itself from behind Stiles.
Stiles clenched his barrier protecting his nudity quickly with one hand, grabbed the stun gun he kept concealed in the dresser with the other hand and twirled to aim at the previously unseen intruder. "Mother of God!" Stiles exclaimed when he set his vision on the face with the intruder. "Derek?!" Stiles sputtered indignantly. "Are you trying to kill me...again! When I gave you my name I expected you to call or at least use the front door, jeez."
"You broke into my place, I figured I would return the favor." Derek retorted plainly, defending his action.
"Oh my God, that was so last night! Quit living in the past, dude." The weapon made a heavy thud on the dresser after Stiles abandoned it to resume his search for clean underwear, leaving Derek to stare at his backside. Once Stiles found the item he sought amidst the wreckage of his poorly organized drawer, he stared into the reflection of the mirror on top of the dresser to find the werewolf in a trance, enthralled by the area around the waist of the thief.
"I know you're paying a lot for my services," Derek meets Stiles' eyes in the mirror after hearing the thief's voice, breaking him from his reverie. "But a strip show...wasn't really part of the arrangement. Though I might be willing to reconsider."
"I'm just trying to wrap my brain around how that managed to one up me last night."
"Oh, puh-lease." Stiles cocked a hip and splayed his fingers over the edge of his pelvis, drumming the sides and drawing Derek's down to the well toned body. He was lanky, sure. But there wasn't an inch of him that didn't show how defined his muscles were. "This is pretty damn impressive, thank you very much." Cut abs, strong shoulders, and sinewy arms attested to that. Plus, Jackson was a fan and that dude was totally in love with himself.
Derek rolls his eyes and turns around to give Stiles some privacy. When Derek hears the towel drop he sneaks a lingering peak and smirks after turning his head around before Stiles has the chance to notice.
"Not judging but isn't that exactly what you wore last night?" Stiles observed at the leather clad werewolf in dark clothing.
"Coming from the grown man in Spider-Man boxer-briefs?" Derek shot back with judge-y eyes, judge-y with traces of carnal desire.
"Hey, I'm a kid at heart." Stiles threw on an well worn, loose fitting t-shirt.
"So, do you have a big, fat, oversized check for me like on a gameshow?" Stiles pondered jokingly, as he led Derek to his hiding spot to give back the drive.
"Sure, Stiles. Let me just pull the enormous check out of my back pocket." Derek deadpanned. "We're doing a wire transfer, all I need is a bank account to send it to."
Stiles gave a grimace of pain when he tried to shimmy the refrigerator out of its rooted spot in the kitchen, nestled between a wall and counter. The excursion was too much for his sprained wrist to handle.
Derek pointedly looks in silence at Stiles' bruise purple-ish wrist with his hand stretched out, expecting Stiles to understand his request. When the injured wrist is held in Derek's grasp, a gentle squeeze from Derek begins black colored veins traveling up his arm. Stiles stares in wonderment at the dissipating pain from his injury. The top of Derek's hand drops leaving Stiles' hand cradled in his other. If Stiles was staring in wonderment before, he couldn't imagine how he was looking now. The bruised purple-ish colored wrist was now its normal coloring. With a short circular rotation of his hand, Stiles gave a breathy, short laugh at the fully healed appendage.
"Are you satisfied with your care?" One corner of Derek's mouth rose as he asked, his amused expression contrasting with his plain tone.
Stiles squinted his eyes at Derek, forgetting about the extraordinary powers of the werewolf to focus on an equally, if not more, surprise. "You're not quoting - Oh my God you are. You freakin' quoted Big Hero 6! Aren't you full of surprises…"
"Some of the kids of the families I helped loved watching that movie...over and over. The few times they were injured with minor wounds I could help heal, ones they couldn't heal yet because of their young age - it usually brought a smile to their face and distracted them...from the thoughts of being hunted." Derek reveals.
It was crazy to fathom the idea of kids and families being ripped out their homes and lives because they happened to be born different. And Stiles was so close to helping the people, the hunters, doing these heinous actions.
"Step aside, I'll move it for you." Derek offers softly, needing a reason to opt out of the eye staring contest the two are entwined in.
"Um, Derek. I hope you know I would have never gone through with this whole mess if I had known." Stiles scratches the back of his neck as he apologizes about the whole mess to Derek, watching as Derek moves the fridge with ease. A demonstration of the werewolf's impressive strength despite the muscular build of Derek.
Derek looked back to see Stiles with a look of affinity that was mirrored on his own face. "I know, Stiles."
Stiles uncovered a small case behind the loose, square tile on the backsplash of the wall previously refrigerator that Derek removed. When he opened the case expecting to find the USB drive instead saw a folded paper.
"Oh crapballs." Stiles lowly voiced after reading the contents of the letter.
"What's the matter?"
"Oh, you know, the usual. Global warming, world hunger, my dad's eating habits. But at this current moment I would say," Stiles breathes deeply and marathons through his next statement, "My business partner has decided to steal your drive and sell it to the original buyer." Crumpling the note promising that Jackson would still pay Stiles and Danny for their services. "Goddamn idiot." Stiles didn't know whether he was talking about Jackson or himself. Maybe both. He knew Jackson's rapid mood change was odd but chalked it up to nostalgia of what they shared. It seems Stiles was the only one living in the past.
Derek punched a hole through the wall, effectively shattering Stiles' train of thought along with the wall separating the closet from the kitchen.
"Add the damages to my 250 thousand dollar tab that you won't be receiving. I should have known trusting you was a bad idea." Derek's features began to shift as he fought a raging battle inside to control his wolf from lashing out anymore. He trained himself to keep constant control but the thought of so many innocent lives in danger because he trusted this stranger so easily, so carelessly… It made him furious with himself.
"Derek?" Stiles against his better judgment slowly placed a hand on Derek's bicep.
"What did you even think you were stealing!?" Even though Derek was shouting at Stiles, apparently a recurring theme in Stiles' day, Derek's red glowing eyes transitioned to green and hazel with his human face winning over his werewolf's.
"I dunno. Corporate secrets...blueprints...cookie recipes?"
Stiles' hand was shrugged off of Derek as the werewolf stared at him in exasperation. "Can you please take this seriously!"
"I get it, I get it. Danger for everyone on the list."
"That's putting it mildly, this is a potential hit list I'm dealing with. And you have - correction: you had the only copy. I can't even warn them they're in danger."
"Hey, I'm totally on board to fix this. This is what I do best, I adapt when the need calls for it. I know this looks bad but-"
"No, this looks like a giant shit storm! If that list gets to the Argents..."
"But we still have time to fix it. And we will. Okay," Stiles promises as he paces around the room. "The deal doesn't happen for a couple hours or so. I'll just intercept Ja - my partner," Stiles was somewhat afraid of what Derek would do to Jackson if his name was revealed, "before he hands the package over."
Stiles tries to call Jackson in a futile attempt to reach him before the dropoff commenced. "No answer. Okay, I expected that." Stiles says when no one picks up. "Bee tee dubs, he was the only one who knew how to get in contact with the Argents. Please don't hit my walls again...or me."
"Please don't make me regret not strangling you when I had the chance." Derek said through a clenched jaw.
"Not helpful, dude. Okay, we're in a kitchen let me cook up a plan." Stiles begins brainstorming out loud, Derek feels mildly calmed listening to Stiles' musings - knowing the thief is doing his best to rectify the distressing situation. Although Derek is riddled with anxiety over the situation, somewhere in the back of his mind Derek knows Stiles will come through.
"My partner usually sets up any final exchanges at parties or openings. High profile events. You know, the kind where only people with connections can get into. It's a safeguard to make sure the people who pay us can, like, actually pay us. And it's public, so you know less chance of a double cross or something." Stiles races to the newspaper on the coffee table in the living room to scour the pages for special events.
"Hm, I think we can safely rule out the 10th annual dog show. Well, maybe not. Aroo!" Stiles tries to lighten the mood with a poor excuse of a howl. "Tough crowd, ahem." Stiles says when Derek rolls his eyes. Why does Derek have faith in this idiot again? Derek leans against the back of the couch Stiles is sitting on and feels something crinkle in his back pocket. Derek wonders how could he forget he had this then remembers exactly why. And the reason is right behind him.
"It's The Beacon City's Entrepreneurs Of Tomorrow Gala." Derek supplies as an answer rather than a question for a possible rendezvous, not even looking at the newspaper.
"Yeah, that's it." Stiles confirms after viewing the full page advertisement of the event held tonight. "Looks really exclusive too, I don't know if I can get us in on such short notice. Maybe a waiter gig?" Rambling to himself as he deduces the best way to gain entry. "Bodyguard, valet, janitor, performance…"
"Stiles." Derek tries to interrupt.
"Shush, big guy. I'm thinking… Okay I've got an idea. But the question is where can I find some roller blades, expired eggs, and helium at this hour?"
A invitational card is harshly shoved in Stiles' chest, freezing the trickling thoughts of the thief. "What's your damage?" Stiles looks at the paper. "Oh well...that would work too." An invitation for Derek Hale and a guest to attend gala for tonight.
Derek Hale, the multi-millionaire entrepreneur. Duh, Stiles.
"So, the real question now is - do you have anything to wear tonight, guest?" Derek asks.