* This fic was an idea I had after having an "Ascension" (2014) marathon last month. So I'd like to point out four things:
1. It is a fusion with the "Ascension" universe but you don't need to have seen the show to follow the story; this is, you don't need any knowledge of Ascension canon. Still, I'm gonna copy this from wikipedia. I think this is all you need to know if you haven't seen the show:
Ascension is inspired by the real-life Project Orion that existed under the administration of President John F. Kennedy. The show sets up an alternate version of reality beginning in 1963, when President Kennedy and the U.S.government, fearing the Cold War will become hot and lead to the destruction of Earth, decide to launch a covert space mission. They send 350 volunteers, including men, women and children, into space on a century-long voyage aboard the USS Ascension, a massive, self-sustaining generation ship. Their mission is to colonize a planet orbiting Proxima Centauri, assuring the survival of the human race.
2. This fic has no spoilers for "Ascension" so, not that I'm expecting many comments because well, it's stackson what we're talking about, but if you've seen Ascension please don't comment about any spoiler happening in the show in case somebody who may be interested in watching the show could read it. I'd tell anybody who might want to watch this series, not to read anything in advance since it could ruin it for you.
3. In order to write this story I've had to mix canon with my head-canon because some things are not explained in the show.
4. If you have any doubt or question just ask me. I like to know what people think :)
* If you've read my series "All I Saw Was You", you know I'm not a writer, so I'd tell you to have that in mind.
* Thanks so much to my beta motionalocean who really pushed me to improve many aspects of this short story and I wouldn't have posted it without her.
Stiles, his head and shoulders deep inside the cover of an access panel, curses the long-dead designers of the only home he's known. Self-sustaining! the brochures had claimed, though he'd only seen them in history books. Live your life in comfort while the USS Ascension carries you and your descendants far into the reaches of space.
Self-sustaining, his ass. Only in that the lower deck population keeps creating workers to keep everything running. The heat exchangers on sections B and C have been going on and off for the last few days, and it's taken Stiles most of his shift to locate the problem – finally – and deal with it.
He stretches his arm to the limit, feeling like his shoulder is going to pop out of its socket, and snugs up the last bolt. When he finally extracts himself from the access panel, someone is standing a few feet away.
"Hey, Stiles," Jackson says in a nonchalant tone.
"God, Jackson, you scared the shit out of me! What on Earth are you doing down here?" The door to the engine room has a very prominent sign announcing the area Restricted to Workers Only. Even people from the lower deck aren't allowed without permission, let alone someone with Jackson's high-gloss shine. "You could get in trouble if anybody finds you here, you know that."
Stiles's overalls are stained with grease, as are his gloves and his cheeks. Jackson, on the other hand, is wearing a dark blue suit with a matching tie and a pair of really expensive looking shoes. Stiles knows he could never afford such an elegant outfit. Jackson looks absolutely stunning in it, and the juxtaposition is just one more indication that one or the other of them doesn't belong.
"I know, but most people have the night off... and even if they did find out, I'd deal with it. But I needed to see you." Launch Day was supposed to be celebrated by everybody, it wasn't fair that Stiles had to be stuck at work all day.
"And how did you even know I was here?"
"I..." Jackson clears his throat. "Y'know, I have my sources," he says matter-of-factly, like that explained anything.
"Yeah, of course you do." Stiles is not surprised in the least. God only knows everything the upper-deck people can find out if they want to. "Shouldn't you be at that glamorous party going on upstairs?" Stiles asks, taking off his gloves and running his fingers through his hair. He's been working for hours, and is sure he looks kind of terrible. It makes him really uneasy to be in this condition in front of a perfect-as-usual looking Jackson.
"I was there for like five minutes... it was boring as hell. But, yeah, trying to make my parents happy. Nobody can miss it, it's just how it is."
"And Lydia, was she happy? I bet she was wearing an amazing dress," Stiles says, more bitterly than he meant to.
"Yeah, she was..." Jackson licks his lips. He's not come here to talk about Lydia. "Happy, I guess. And yeah, she's wearing a nice dress but I'm not interested, she could be wearing her pyjamas for all I care." Jackson sighs. "I want you." Jackson takes two steps closer until he's standing in front of Stiles. He's risked coming down here for a reason and he's not about to lose time talking about Lydia or anybody else.
"Why are you even jealous of her?" Jackson frowns. "I've told you a million times. There's nothing between us, there never has been. She's a good friend and nothing else." Jackson snorts. "We're practically like siblings."
The truth is Stiles knows this. He's known Jackson all his life. They were friends before it turned into something else and he trusts him entirely, but recently he's had difficulty pushing down the bitterness and jealousy.
Stiles, Lydia and Jackson are the same age and they attended school together. He knows that Lydia is a good friend and, being a doctor like Jackson, works close to him most of the time. But sometimes, especially when he's not been with Jackson in a while, an irrational fear kicks in and he just can't control it.
He's jealous of the time she gets to spend with him and he's also jealous because she could easily be with him if she wanted, whereas he, as a lower-decker, will never be able to have a sanctioned relationship with any upper-decker, never mind their gender.
The way things are, Stiles is lucky if he can see Jackson two or three times a week during the day. Most of the time it has to be at night and with Stiles's shifts changing all the time, they are very fortunate if they can see each other two nights a week. For him it's not enough and he knows Jackson feels the same way.
Jackson takes a step closer, and holds Stiles's face as he kisses him. He merely brushes his lips against Stiles's at first. Jackson tilts his head, kissing him slowly, testing Stiles but when he feels him kissing back, it turns into something more desperate. Stiles opens his mouth and he eagerly welcomes Jackson's tongue.
Jackson has missed his taste for nearly a month now and he'd be lying if he said he's not been starving for it lately. Last week it had reached a point where he couldn't think about anything else but Stiles and he hopes he doesn't have to go through that again.
Jackson gets ahold of Stiles's hair and tugs it insistently. Finally Stiles tilts his head to the side and Jackson's mouth is on his neck immediately. He kisses him there before biting faintly. Stiles moans in return as a hot shiver courses through his body. He hides his fingers in Jackson's hair and pulls at it slightly to make Jackson find his mouth again and this time he directs Jackson towards his left, trapping his body against the pillar behind him.
Stiles takes charge of the kiss and he holds Jackson's hands over his head. Being taller than Jackson has its advantages sometimes.
The intensity keeps escalating, and it's getting harder to breathe. "Why don't you come up to my cabin?" Jackson says suggestively against Stiles's ear when their mouths finally move apart. There's no way Stiles doesn't know how hard he is, and it's impossible for anything to happen down here. Besides, he wants a whole night with him, not just some kind of sexual encounter or whatever this could turn into in the engine room.
Stiles, who had moved on to his neck, stops kissing him and looks at him. It feels like waking from of a temporary trance and coming back to his senses. "I can't," he manages to say somehow. He takes a step back until his body and Jackson's are not in contact anymore. "My shift isn't over yet. I can't just leave whenever I want."
"Yeah, of course." Somehow he had forgotten that. "Then, come over later when it's over," Jackson says with a hopeful tone.
"Jackson, please, we can't do this anymore. This is why I've been avoiding you."
"I knew you were avoiding me when you had your medical check-up on my day off... but why?" Jackson frowns.
"Why? Are you kidding me?" Stiles spreads his arms wide, exasperated. He paces a few steps away, then brings a hand in to massage the tension out of his neck as he turns to face Jackson again.
"We can never be together, Jackson, there's no point in making it more serious than it's been. We have to stop seeing each other. Maybe you can't see it but -"
"It's already serious, it has been since a long time ago," Jackson says, frowning. "You know I've always loved you -" He's told him before and Stiles knows, that's for sure.
"Don't! Don't say that!" Stiles says louder than he intended as he shakes his head.
"I'll say whatever the fuck I want because it's the damn truth. I've loved you for as long as I've known you and I know that you love me back so you can lie to yourself and think that by avoiding me, anything is gonna change, but that's simply not true. I'll never stop loving you and you have to accept that," Jackson says decisively.
"And you have to accept the fact that there's no future for us in this place." Stiles sighs. "You must stop fooling yourself into thinking that this," he points between himself and Jackson, "is a possibility. I'm not a fucking woman and, even if I was, I'm just a mechanic and you're a doctor, we would never have been matched. Pretty soon you're gonna be matched with Lydia, Allison or whoever else that computer decides is best, so that you can bring more smart babies into this goddamned ship, and there's nothing either of us can do about it."
Jackson snorts. "Even if that happened, it wouldn't change anything. Nobody in this place gets married because they love each other. It's all fake... it's been that way since the beginning, you know that. Lydia loves Derek, Scott loves Allison and Erica loves Boyd and if by any chance that computer paired any of us, I don't expect them to change their feelings and neither do they."
"Oh and by the way, you're not a mechanic," Jackson continues. "You're an engineer. Never let anyone look down on you for being from the lower deck. You did great at your aptitude test and you're one of the smartest people on this ship."
"Still, aptitude doesn't matter when your parents don't have the influence that others do." He says it plainly, not accusatorily, but Jackson knows he's talking about his parents, about his companions on the upper deck, and he doesn't flinch because it's the sad truth, there's no way to deny that.
Stiles shakes his head. "Back on earth you could dream as big as you wanted. There were an infinite number of possibilities to try. But here we don't have infinity. We only have the ship. We're born in it and we die in it. Maybe if I had been born on Earth I could have been a basketball player or a secret agent..." he smiles wryly, "I don't know... but it would have been up to me. Instead I've ended up down here covered in grease," he says, looking down at his clothes. "And not that I want it, but I don't even have the chance of a fake marriage like everybody else on the upper-deck does."
"Yeah, well, I'd say the last part is a blessing, not a curse. I'd certainly give it up if I could."
"Face it." Stiles spreads his arms. "Our grandparents screwed us. They sent us on a one-way ticket to nowhere."
It's so hard listening to Stiles saying all that, even if he agrees wholeheartedly, his instinct of self-preservation kicks in. After 'the crisis' - which usually takes place when a child is coming of age, in Jackson's case he was fifteen - he's somehow convinced himself that being here must have a purpose, because if he is stuck here for no reason he'd most likely end up killing himself.
Jackson thinks about all the things he was told back then when he was fifteen, but Stiles was told exactly the same things. If nothing helped him, he knows there's nothing new he can say to change his mind and he's not sure he wants to either. He only wishes he could make Stiles feel better about the whole thing.
"I'm not saying it's fair what they did to us. It sucks and I hate it too, okay? But they sent us here to ensure life would go on no matter what. There's a purpose, I have to believe that."
"Oh yeah, sure. Have you read the history books? People on Earth weren't exactly saints. A lot of people became very rich very fast with this project. It wasn't all for the good of humanity," Stiles says, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
"Since 'the crisis' hit you I know it's been hard for you. It's been hard for me too." Jackson shakes his head. "Shit, it's fucking hell for everybody, but I thought -"
"God," Stiles interrupts him. "I'm not suicidal, okay? I'm not planning on killing myself." Because he can only imagine what Jackson was thinking.
Jackson's relief is immediate and he can somehow breath normally again. It's no secret that many people who couldn't deal with it have taken their own lives as a consequence.
"I still don't believe in the mission and probably, I never will," Stiles admits. "This situation is too fucked up for me to do it. We're going nowhere Jackson, and hell," Stiles bites his lip, "none of us have a choice. Besides, until somebody has the courage to destroy that fucking birth computer nothing is ever going to change on this ship."
"Well, when you pass your final test next month," because Jackson has no doubt in his mind that Stiles will pass it on the first try, like he breezed through high school, "you'll be working less hours and you'll spend a lot more time in the upper deck, which means we'll get to see each a lot more. You need to think about that. Things will finally change for us."
"You're so sure I'm gonna pass it... it might take me more than you think," Stiles says hesitantly. "You know it took Jordan three attempts, right?"
"Oh, please," Jackson snorts. "Don't tell me you're trying to compare yourself with Parrish?" Jackson smiles and shakes his head. "He isn't even half as smart as you are, of course you're gonna nail it. Nobody deserves this promotion as much as you."
Stiles quirks his lips. Jackson may have a point, but the test still hovers there like a solid door that can either lead him to a better life or bar him from it forever.
"When was the last time you went to the beach?" Jackson asks, unexpectedly.
"To the beach?" Stiles raises both eyebrows, wondering where this is coming from. "I don't know... I can't remember."
"If you can't remember it's certainly been too long." Jackson knows Stiles loves it there, when they were children it was their favorite part of the ship.
The thing about the strict population controls – no legal conceptions until someone dies – is that children are special. Until you come of age, no matter where you come from, you pretty much have the run of the ship. Stiles's favourite privilege had been to visit the beach with Jackson and the other few kids as often as he wanted.
But since his aptitude tests, since he'd been designated a lower-decker, he hadn't been back.
Jackson hadn't been there in quite some time. It just hadn't had the thrill as when he'd been there with Stiles, seen his face light up with joy at the feeling of weightlessness, the simple fun of sand under his toes and the vivid blue sky and clouds painted on the walls. But Lydia had insisted he come along, a few days ago after work, and since then he's not been able to stop thinking about it. He's determined to take Stiles back as soon as possible. Even if it's restricted to the upper-deckers he knows he'll find the way.
"When we were children you said that if you lived on Earth you'd go to the beach every day."
"I can't believe you remember that." Stiles rolls his eyes.
"Oh, I remember a lot of things. I remember you carrying around that baseball bat your father made you even if it's impossible to play in this ship. I didn't need you to go through 'the crisis.' I've always known you've never wanted to be here. And the truth is that on Earth we might never have met."
"You don't know that."
"You're right, I don't. But it's pretty likely. And this place, yeah, it sucks for a lot reasons. It's not the place I'd have chosen to be raised either, but for better or for worse it's our home and I'd rather be here with you than on Earth without you."
Jackson takes a deep breath and his eyes fill with determination.
"So, no, I'm not asking you to believe in the mission. I'll never ask you to. I don't give a fuck about that." He takes three steps until he's standing in front of Stiles. "I'm just asking you to believe in me, to believe in us..." He takes another step closer, cups Stiles's neck with his right hand and runs his fingers through the short fuzz of hair there. "Because shit," and Jackson's voice breaks a little despite himself, "A month without seeing you has been long enough... I really don't know if I could survive more than that." Moisture pricks at the corners of his eyes before he can try to stop it. "Please, I'm asking you Stiles." His breath hitches. "Please, don't give up on us." Stiles can see his tears well up and spill over as he continues, "You're all I care about."
Stiles has a knot in his throat and a pain in his chest that doesn't let him speak at first. This wasn't how Stiles had planned for their next meeting to go. He knows how Jackson feels, has always known, but the weight of society has been so heavy lately that Stiles hasn't been able to see a happy ending for them. It's why he's avoided Jackson for so long. He told himself if he could stay away for a month, he could actually break up with him for good.
But, as expected, once he has Jackson standing in front of him, all his will power to do what he's supposed to is thrown out the window. It's always been that way and he was a fool to think that anything would be different this time. He can't tell his heart how to feel and that's just how it is, it's about time he accepts that.
"Shit, Jackson. Why do you have to be so fucking stubborn?" Stiles shakes his head. "What am I going to do with you?" Stiles smiles and cradles Jackson's face with his hands. He cleans the tears away with his thumbs and presses his forehead against Jackson's. His gaze flicks to Jackson's mouth before kissing him briefly. Just enough contact to calm him down a bit. "I don't want to live without you either," he says looking at Jackson's eyes. "I'm just... I'm scared that I'm going to lose you when they pair you with somebody else. That can happen, y'know? I'm not crazy."
"That's never going to happen, not in a million years. I promise you," Jackson says with as much sincerity as he put into his words. "There's no fucking way that's ever going to happen." Jackson hugs him really tight and Stiles does the same. Neither of them think about the fact that Jackson is probably ruining his suit with grease from Stiles's overalls. It's the last thing on their minds.