A/N: So. Yes I should be writing Some Kind of Madness chapters. Yes I am actually writing those chapters. But I suddenly got the urge to write a slight prequel to the main fic? And I wanted to clear up some things on how the Stiles in my fic got to be who he is and whatnot?
So yes please do enjoy this . Each chapter is going to be from one either Jackson, Lydia, or Stiles' pov.
Unbeta'd because this is both a gift to Momo and myself. Please tell me about any mistakes you find!
This is a prequel short fic to Some Kind of Madness. This will mainly be about Jackson/Lydia/Stiles and how they work together. This fic will explore their dynamics and hopefully show one part in how Stiles becomes the person that he is in the main fic.
Stiles won't shut up. God why won't he shut his fucking mouth up? He just keeps talking and flailing and what is he even trying to say? Jackson leans in closer to the other boy, trying to maybe get him to stop and look at him. To just let a nice silence settle around them, other than the noises Stiles' mouth was making.
Jackson couldn't even comprehend a single word Stilinski was saying but, he knew he wanted him to shut up.
He needs him to shut up.
To stop moving his mouth and looking around worried and god what does it take to make him just look at him and only him-
And maybe if he just covers his mouth-
Stiles doesn't shut up while being kissed.
He moans and groans, his lips moving as if he wants to still keep talking, and maybe this isn't the way to go about it. Stiles tastes like amber and since when is that even something people's lips taste like? He tastes like warmth and sweet things that burn on the way down. The good kind of burn. Stiles won't shut up even when Jackson's lips are covering his and tongue caresses them. But his eyes, those big doe eyes that can look punch drunk with the right type of vodka, are staring back only at him and there's a question. There's a question and he's not sure if he wants to stop kissing those lips just to answer but, Lydia told him once that just because he has a thing for smart people doesn't mean he shouldn't use his words.
He pulls away slowly giving a last quick nip.
Stiles opens his mouth and for once there aren't any sounds, just moving lips which open and close and open and close. His eyes stare wide at Jackson in confusion and wonder. Jackson can't resist the smirk that grows on his lips because he did that. He steps closer to Stiles, boxing him into the locker behind him, giving him no way to run. He would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the way Stiles eyes grow larger still.
"What- why did you kiss me?" Stiles questions, staring straight at him with unblinking eyes.
Jackson leans in closer, head titling, eyes already snapping to those pink lips. "Does it matter?"
"Of course it matters. Why wouldn't it matter?"
Jackson grabs his chin and there's a pause before a huff he knows by now means he's about to be given another paragraph of words if he doesn't interrupt. He lets his thumb run over the bottom lip and hears a gasp. "You wouldn't shut up."
"Do you even think that's going to work every single time-"
"It wasn't a bad idea-"
"Do you even know what consent means?"
"You weren't really fighting-"
"That doesn't mean anything!"
"You liked it Stilin-"
"Shut up Jackson."
"Try and make me."
He doesn't think Stiles will do it. He would have lost money to anyone if he had bet against him, but there are lips against his and fingers curled into his leather jacket and he isn't really going to complain.
Stiles doesn't shut up when he kisses. He moans and groans. He's never silent and somehow it's alright.
Jackson wonders if he should be worried that he's enjoying kissing Stiles so much. It's been two weeks since the 'Operation Shut up' (shut up, Stiles ended up giving it a name and he can't find a good enough reason to change it) and he knows this is dangerous.
There's danger in how he can't turn his eyes away. How he's on the lookout for another moment. How he won't say it out loud but he's itching for another go when he's already had one an hour ago.
He likes the way he can make Stiles gasp when he slams him against a locker and their breaths are short. He likes the way that he can feel blunt nails, so different from Lydia's, drag across his back trying to tear and hold. Stiles respects his exterior mask but enjoys destroying the body underneath.
There's something wrong with him.
He can't help the growl that comes up from his belly and settles deep in his chest when he hears a girl comment to Stiles about the hickie he's sporting on his neck and shoulder.
He wants to stand behind him with his hands on his waist to show the girl who gave him those marks.
He doesn't apologize for marking him up more the next time they're together. Stiles smiles and grins, god his fucking grin, because he's smart and he knows.
The next time the girl comments about the marks, Stiles looks Jackson in the eye as he brags that his boyfriend likes to give him what he wants.
He could kiss him. He does a few minutes later when everyone is busy and not paying attention to the fact that he pretty much followed Stiles into the locker room.
He thinks he has a smart people kink.
It would actually make sense as to how he not only got with Lydia but also explains why he will, as Stiles has commented, 'ride or die' for Danny.
But right now, right now it's finally slapping the fact into his face.
He wonders if it's alright to know that as Stiles is asking Harris a question that is Lydia level or above (yes he actually rates people on a scale of zero to Lydia) that he's getting hard. That he feels the way his stomach drops and the blood flows down south. How he's trying not to bring attention to himself as Stiles really starts to attack the douche bag teacher and tell him he's wrong in five hundred words or less.
He doesn't even realize that he's bitten his lips too hard until he can taste the copper taint on his tongue. It's a sign of how much he doesn't really care that he just rolls his eyes and tries to find the best position where his dick won't have to fight against his jeans.
He thinks his kink would explain why he's been so tense during chemistry, english, and physics.
Stiles Stilinski turns him on the more he talks about the things he knows.
Jackson thinks he does a good job making sure Stiles doesn't notice the effect his brain has on his body.
He doesn't. After partnering up for an in-class assignment Stiles not only knows but encourages it along.
The fucker.
It's been a month and a half since 'Operation Shut Up' and Jackson wonders if there's something wrong with how he feels his life has changed.
He's letting Stiles come over on weeknights and weekends to play Halo and Call of Duty (he's rich as hell, did no one think that he was up to date with all the latest consoles and games?). He's arguing over Chinese, Thai, or pizza at 10 pm. There are debates over the greatness of waffle versus curly fries that go on long into the night until there are shoves and punches followed by kisses and licks.
He's scent marking and cuddling Stiles on a couch and the jerk knows what he's doing but pretending he doesn't.
Jackson pretends he doesn't kiss him behind the ear for that consideration.
Stiles collects flowers and presses them into a journal, weathered and faded so much the color it used to be no longer matters.
He takes long walks once a month to the cemetery and back, stopping along the way to pick up sunflowers and daisies. He sits there for an hour and never speaks but just listens.
Stiles whispers low in the dark of the room that he loves his jeep because it was the jeep he picked out with his mother when she was buying an extra car.
Jackson tells him how he found out that he was adopted. How his father questioned his abilities and broke him like it meant nothing.
He admits to needing to prove his worth.
He ignores the way Stiles looks into his eyes and promises without words that he's worth something.
Stiles wakes up from a nightmare screaming about not being able to reach out and save his father.
Jackson wakes up to the smell of blood and his nails jabbed into Stiles' arm.
He hates that Stiles doesn't hate him for being so fucked up that he would hurt someone in his bed.
He hates himself for not being able to stop the nightmares.
Stiles kisses him awake with the promise of control.
Jackson holds Stiles tight with the anchoring of safety.
Stiles is in his bed, tussled hair, blissed out and smiling as if nothing could ever be wrong. Forget about the monster of the week/month attacking and tearing a gash on his stomach that stings whenever he moves. Jackson tries to forget how he roared and tore at flesh. How he felt that he was losing himself over to the lizard that remains. How he actually wasn't inclined to fight against that dark and sinister part of himself.
He tries to forget how he feeling like he was going to die all over again.
He tries to forget how much relief he felt when Stiles crawled on his knees and hands to stand up again.
He tries to forget his fear for Stilinski. He tries to forget his fear over this.
So he drowns them in wet and needy kisses. Sloppy and rough. Where blood stains lips and nails leave trails that burn. Where his tongue explores a pale chest freckled with moles that seem like the stars to constellations of worlds near and far.
He lets his mind wonder how far the beauty marks go down.
"Shut the fuck up, thirty-minutes-on-your-hair metro." Stiles snarls with little heat and all warmth.
They go all the way down and Jackson would be lying if he said he doesn't enjoy the noises he can call forth with ease.
Jackson worries about how Stiles will react when he sees the remnants of the Kanima come out when he's too excited. How the reminder of his days as a puppet can slip out uninvited when they kiss.
He hears the hiss as they grind their needs against another. He pulls back and looks away trying to control his heart. He hopes that the scales haven't curled their way onto his forearm.
The way Stiles gasps as he takes his arm tells him they did.
He waits for the rejection. He takes a deep breath to smell the fear.
He waits.
He waits and it doesn't come.
Stiles grabs his chin and looks him in the eye, eyes flickering back and forth before he's nipping at his lips demanding more.
Stiles is a gift. He makes it a game to see how many scales he can make appear and it's inviting and caring and perfect.
God he's fucking perfect.
It's been three months and he's so far gone.
He lied to Danny about having to stay later to meet with a teacher when all he wanted to do is attack Stiles.
And Stiles, bless his sneaky going-to-hell-without-a-care soul, can already understand him with just a few gazes and blinks. He waits until the last person leaves the locker room before he starts the showers.
He doesn't have to wait long.
Stiles is slipping around him and kissing him and Jackson can't help but moan long and hard as he picks up a leg and wraps it around his waist in order to bring the other boy closer still. It's something he's learned after all this time; he can't stop demanding, needing to get closer to Stiles. He's losing his mind with that mouth that opens wide and that tongue that just demands and takes.
He's so distracted by the warm soothing water and a firm hand on his cock twisting and stroking that it takes him longer than he would like to admit to notice that Stiles is on his knees with his cock in his mouth.
God it feels like heaven and yes it feels like sin. But this is the best sin he ever felt in his life and he needs more.
Stiles closes his lips and starts to suck quick and deep as if he's trying to take in all that is Jackson and never give it back.
Jackson is completely and fully alright with giving him all that remains of his heart and soul. He can't find any reason not to. He closes his eyes and pushes his hands through Stiles hair raking nails across the scalp (hair he suggested Stiles grow out over the summer and thank the skies he listened). Stiles hums in satisfaction and the way the vibrations rattle his already begging partner makes him shake and shiver at once.
Stiles doesn't shut up while Jackson's dick is in his mouth. He makes all the best noises anyone could imagine around a full mouth. Jackson doesn't mind.
Jackson tries to breath, to control his hips that are begging to fuck into the wonderful mouth. He succeeds until Stiles starts taking more and more of him in until his lips are at the base and Jackson can't stop the whimper that slips out anymore then he can stop his eyes from opening to look down into pupils so dilated he can barely see color. All he can think of is the abyss and how perhaps he should have shouted down into the darkness long ago. All he can think of is how much he needs this. How much he doesn't care anymore. This is heaven or this is hell and no matter which he's perfectly okay.
He wonders if Lydia knew what he's been up to.
Lydia knows.
Lydia knows and she doesn't care. She looks him in the eyes and only gives a slight smirk as if she's enjoyed seeing him panic and worry (knowing her as he does, she probably did). He was a fool to think that he could do something like this and not get caught eventually.
He knew it was foolish to do but he doesn't want to stop.
He won't stop. He likes what he has and he doesn't want to give it up. Maybe that makes him selfish to want so much. He has the perfect girlfriend, he has the perfect cookie cutter life. He shouldn't need Stiles. He shouldn't need to touch him, kiss him, and sometimes cuddle with him.
He shouldn't need Lydia too and look at what his life is.
He shouldn't but he does.
He's prepared to fight but it's like she knows what he needs and can see everything.
She wraps her arms around him, holding him close, "Does he make you happy Jackson?"
He runs his hands through her hair. "He makes me scream and he won't shut up."
He tells him that he belongs to him. Stiles just looks into his eyes with an eyebrow raised as if asking if he's stupid.
"I've been yours for a while idiot."
"Fucker."
"Jack. Ooo I think I'll keep that one. I mean it's both an insult and your name, Jacky boy."
"Shut up."
"Put your orifice to good use and make me."
He should have known Lydia was too accommodating.
The first time he sees them together he wonders if she knows that he can see them. Can see the way her hands yank hard onto Stilinski's hair, the way he leans into her as if he'll fight anyone who interrupts, the way they just seem to work like jagged pieces made whole.
He wonders if she did this to spite him.
To take something that was his and make it hers.
He tries to pretend that it doesn't hurt.
He can't pretend and that actually hurts more.
She knew.
"I'm not taking him away from you." She whispers into his ears as she walks by him in the hallway.
It's been two days and it's been hell. He wonders if he'll suffer worst then this when he dies for his sins. If murder while under control of a fucking lunatic is worse than this, he laments his untimely end.
He pretends like he doesn't hear her. He tries to ignore the light flutter of hope that surges inside.
"I am not trying to take him away from you Jackson. Stop moping and go see our boyfriend. He actually seems a bit hurt about your avoidance." Lydia announces to him during lunch.
"What?" He blurts out unsure and confused. He thought he heard her say our boyfriend and since when is Stiles theirs? Since when did this become something that he shares?
"Our boyfriend. Spaz with a brain that while not fully at my level is a close second? The boy you like to kiss against the locker on the third floor by the enlgish room? The boy you like to have suck your co-"
"Stop!" He pleads and this was even worse. He thought he hid it well but for her to- God.
"How long did you know?"
"Oh Jackson, I've known about this since the second week. Did you really think no one was going to notice the marks on Stiles? The way his lips are bruised? How there is this little nip right over his heart, just the way you like to leave on me?"
"I-I wanted to tell you earlier…it's just-" Jackson struggled to explain.
Lydia smiled at him, an uptick of her lips, reaching across him to grab his hand. "I know. I actually understand. But I saw him first."
"He isn't a prize."
"But he's still ours."
"Stop say-" Jackson snaps, anger biting back in his throat.
"Stiles Stilinski is ours. He's ours. You didn't build him back up from the ashes of Scott damn McCall alone. You didn't sit with him when he didn't understand what the newest monster of the week was and needed logic to guide him. You weren't there when he wanted to talk about his sexuality and figure out who he was. You. Were. Not. There." She seethed eyes lowered into slits sharp and ready to slice.
"But I wanted to be!"
"But you weren't and I was! He came to me for that the same way he came to you for his nightmares. The same way he came to you for his video games. The same way he came to you for the things I couldn't give, he came to me for the one's you couldn't. We built him together and he's ours. I would never steal him from you, I wouldn't try. Stiles wouldn't let me. He's ours. He belongs to both or he belongs to none."
"You can't bring ultimatums against me Lydia. I won't let you take him from me."
"What about me? Are you going to lose me? Are you leaving me? After everything we've been through? What is this going to be? You have Stiles, your fuckboy on the side while I wait alone? What about what I want? What about what Stiles wants?"
"I didn't mean for this to get this out of control. I didn't mean to hurt you. I just…he was mine and I didn't think I would…I didn't think I would want him so much. I didn't think I would want him as much as I ever wanted you." Jackson whispered holding his head in his hands gazing down at the table.
"I know, god I know. I was going to tell you before I did anything with Stiles but-well you know how distracting his lips can be." She offers up in her own form of apology.
Jackson would like to say that the silence hurt. That it picks away at him like a chicken searching for food. But it doesn't. The silence is comfort and peace. The silence is a glass of truths that get stuck on their way down and a hangover of change.
He doesn't jump when he feels her lips on his forehead but he leans into her touch in thanks. She was right. He's going to enjoy the day when she's wrong but today is not that day. Lydia knew him in ways that Stiles could not because the person he was before is in a past that included just him and her. Lydia and Jackson, the king and queen. He snorts to himself over the future that would have been until Stiles. He wasn't going to let Stiles go but isn't going to let Lydia go either.
"Go talk to our boyfriend. He's sulking in the library in the fantasy aisle." She promises with a smile in her voice.
He finds Stiles right where Lydia said he would be. At another time he'll have to consider the fact that Lydia knows him too well for this to have started a few days ago.
He stares as Stiles fights with a notebook. Pausing every so often to mutter at the book and huff in annoyance before leaning back down to write again. He takes a picture of the scene before him; Stiles rubbing at a slightly higher than average hickie underneath his ear as he bites his lips squinting at the pages. He takes a moment to just pause and see.
This is his Stiles. The guy who took Lydia to the winter dance when all he could do was leave her alone. The guy who saw her for how smart she was, not only for how pretty she could be. The same boy who would snicker to himself every single time Lydia muttered something snarky and cutting no matter how low she thought she whispered. The one guy who ran across a field and was willing to barter his freedom away so that she could live. This was Stiles damn Stilinski who stayed outside her hospital room for days until she woke from her attack. Who went to her house and checked on her when not even he did. This was the boy who stood up to Peter when he smiled at Lydia. The one who spiked Peter's coffee somehow and nearly killed the fucking asshole another time because he made a reference to biting Lydia. This was the boy who loved Lydia so much he was willing to be wrong about her being the Kanima. This was Stiles Stilinski, he doesn't fuck around.
This was the boy that loved his girlfriend for years and was willing to turn from that and settle as a friend.
This was Stiles. This was Stiles and he was an idiot to think that he was going to keep him for himself. He was as much his as he was Lydia's.
Stiles is their boyfriend.
He hates to admit that it took pain to realize this.
The first time the three of them are together they're at Lydia's house and Mean Girls is on the screen and Stiles is settled underneath his arm snuggled close as Lydia relaxes across their laps. It feels nice. It feels like stability and home.
They don't kiss but they touch and it's more than enough.
The tenth time (four months since Operation 'Shut Up' and a month and a half since 'The Kiss') and they're in his bed. He's kissing Stiles until his lips bruise as Lydia makes a treasure map down Stile's chest. He's squirming and moaning with little hitches in his breath that tell them both he's over the moon.
He tells them that too when Jackson finally lets him come up for air.
And this works. It works and Jackson doesn't answer that he's long gone into the edges of the milky way but the way Lydia laughs and Stiles grins lets him know they understand.
They know him so well.
"So which is first? Does Stiles lose his vagina or ass virginity?" Lydia questions, slamming her books down.
Jackson nearly dies in his coffee while Stiles falls out his chair to the floor. Lydia just looks at them waiting.
"What am I losing?" Stiles croaks out when he returns to his seat as Jackson just blinks because it's 7:45 am and it's too damn early for this shit. He wonders if he could go back to last night and punch those damn hunters in the face again. He imagines the scene again and lets it calm his heart.
"I want to have sex with you. Penetration type sex. So which one of us will be having said sex with you first?" Lydia clarifies staring straight at Stiles as if this is the perfect time to ask such a question.
"..."
"..."
"You both didn't think about this?"
"I honestly thought we were just going to go with the flow?" Stiles suggested looking at Jackson who could only shrug.
Jackson didn't want to admit that he wanted to be the first. He was Stiles' first French kiss, first blow job, first hand job, first everything sexual.
He wants to be his first but he's afraid to ask.
He's afraid that Stiles wants his first crush over his first boyfriend.
He's afraid and he knows he shouldn't worry. Stiles is their boyfriend and not being someone's first doesn't mean that they are loved any less. That they'll compare you to another and think you don't stack up.
He knows he shouldn't worry but, he does.
"I want it to be Jackson." He hears Stiles say.
It sounds like happiness and he swears he doesn't feel like crying.
He grabs him by the hair and kisses him hard.
Who cares if the whole fucking school finally realizes who Stiles' boyfriend is.
Stiles is his and he won't let him go.
He's never done this before and he never thought he would.
He was going to be a stereotypical jock with his wonderful girlfriend. He was going to be the poster child for straight men and heterosexual relationships everywhere but that wasn't the life he turned out to have. He has a boyfriend who plays on his lacrosse team and now never sits out. He has a girlfriend who has found a way to perfectly divide her time equally between her two boyfriends so that neither ever feels left out of her cheering. He has something that works even if no one understands.
Danny understands and that's why he's going to be his best friend until he dies.
Jackson pretends that he doesn't stutter or blush when he first asks his best friend the way to go about having sex with a guy. He ignores the way Danny's eyes pop open before sliding across the room to where Stiles and Lydia sit bickering like old friends over their chemistry solution. He bets that they're not even doing the assignment anymore but something they think would actually be a challenge.
His friend doesn't linger too long on the fact that this was not what he would have thought would have happened this time last year. He just smiles a kind smile and starts looking up and sending links to really helpful sites while reminding Jackson that he's here to answer any questions at all.
Danny is a saint and deserves nice things.
Jackson is an ass. He is an ass and wears the badge with pride. He's an ass and loves a jerk and together they love a bitch. But that doesn't make what they have any less great. Any less exactly what he's been looking for.
He's an ass but he knows how to care.
He knows how to make this special.
He gets them tickets to the premier of a sci-fi movie Stiles has been dying to see.
By the time the movie is over Stiles is a ball of happiness and excitement. He's flailing and talking and he won't shut up but Jacson has come to actually like this about him.
Stiles doesn't realize that they're at Jackson's house, in his room, until he hears the door lock click shut.
He opens his mouth but Jackson doesn't let him talk before he's devouring and taking, grabbing and holding, marking and loving, keeping for forever.
Stiles screams and he begs, mouth open red and slick.
Jackson keeps him on the edge, right there on the cliff.
Then he's pushing, slow and nervous, but so sure this is right. That he will make this feel right.
Stiles chants his name and growls, hisses and curses, and then he's pulling Jackson in quick and fast and Jackson doesn't need any more direction.
He races towards the end, pumping for all he's worth until he can feel the finish line before he forces himself to go back slow.
Stiles drags his head down to bite at his lips until there's blood on their tongues and he's drunk on their scent. Stiles tilts his hips and then they're meeting each other in sharp thrusts and loud breaths. Jackson hisses and Stiles grins.
His scales emerge and Stiles throws back his head as he keens, as if he's dying but still has a need.
He tries to hold out but it's too much. It's too much but it's still not enough.
He tears through his sheet with his claws as his orgasm crashes through his body.
Stiles is gasping, choking, screaming, shouting to the world as he breaks apart.
Stiles is silent.
Stiles is silent for a full two minutes and Jackson won't tell a soul but he thought he killed him with an orgasm.
He knows how to shut Stiles up.
"I love you Jack."
And Stiles knows how to make him cry.
He doesn't stop the smug smile from his lips when Lydia kisses him hello the next day at school. Stiles is walking funny but smirking at anyone who looks like they might question him about his walk. Lydia snorts at something Stiles says as they walk hand in hand in front of him.
He pauses as he looks over his boyfriend and girlfriend.
He's happy.
He's more than content.
It was only a kiss. But he's glad it turned into something like this.
A/N: Yes. Yes I pulled some Mr. Brightside reference at the end of this fic. I'm sorry but then I'm not. It was in a battle for the title. But then the Muse called and I could not say no to them. So this was my first attempt at a ot3 pairing.
Reviews, comments, critiques as always are not only wanted but encouraged. Please tell me what you think about the fic.
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