I was originally going to post this in 'many ways' inspired by 'if today was your last day' by nickelback, but I've decided to make a full length story out of it as well.
If Jackson is perfectly honest, he was completely and utterly floored by the announcement. He can't speak, he can't move. He's stuck there, the phrase going round and round his head like a record on repeat. Stiles takes it better, but then again, he'd always thought that it could be possible. Jackson had preferred to think that it would never happen. Not to Stiles.
Cancer. Cancer cancer cancer. Stiles has cancer. Jackson can't stop thinking just that one thing. Why Stiles? The doctor looks at them sympathetically and suddenly, inexplicably, Jackson wants to punch him. Stiles takes his hand and squeezes it, calming him down.
Later, it hits Stiles like a freight, that he's got cancer, and he just sits down suddenly on their bed. "Fuck." Jackson laughs shakily. "Fuck." Stiles says again. "Do you know what this means?" He looks at Jackson and Jackson shakes his head.
"We're going to have to go back."
"Why?"
"They need to know."
"Who's they?"
"My dad." Jackson notices that he avoids mentioning anyone else.
"Fine." Jackson's not happy with this decision, and Stiles knows it.
"Please, Jacks. He has to know. I mean, I know I've basically disappeared off the face of the earth for him for the past three years, but he still deserves to know." Jackson sits down next to him, and takes his hand. He rubs the back of it with his thumb, absentmindedly. "Okay," he says, at last. "We'll go back."
Beacon Hills hasn't changed in the three years that they've been gone. The streets are exactly the same; the same people wander about in the same places. They see Mr Harris walking near the school. It's been a long drive – six or seven hours in all. Their small, inconspicuous, old blue Chevrolet doesn't draw any attention; no one notices who they are. They pull up outside the Stilinski house, where the Sheriff's car is still sat, badly parked on the curb. Stiles sits there, in the car, for a bit, not moving. "I'm scared," he whispers. Jackson takes his hand, and squeezes it gently.
"You'll be fine."
"What if he doesn't take it well?"
"Take what well? Coming back after three years of radio silence, or...?" He can't say the second problem. Not now, it makes it seem so final.
"Either. Neither. Both. I don't know."
"You don't have to do this."
"I do." Stiles squeezes Jackson's hand one last time, and gets out the car. "I'm ready. Let's do this."
His hand is shaking as he rings the doorbell. He has to wait a few moments before he hears someone coming to the door. He grabs hold of Jackson's hand, and Jackson lets him.
Melissa McCall opens the door. That's the first surprise. The second surprise is the wedding ring on her finger that Stiles sees when she slaps her hand over her mouth in shock. "Who is it?" Stiles hears his dad call from inside, and the sound of his voice brings a lump to his throat. He grips Jackson's hand just a bit tighter.
When the Sheriff leaves whatever room he's in and sees Stiles, he goes pale. Like he's going to be angry. "Hi, dad." Stiles says, because, really, he can't say anything else. In three paces, his dad is in front of him, and hugging him tightly, and Stiles lets go of Jackson's hand and hugs back, just as hard. Eventually, they break apart and the Sheriff looks at Stiles. "What is it?" he asks.
"I have something I need to tell you." Stiles takes a breath. "You may need to sit down."
The sitting room is exactly as Stiles remembers. It hasn't changed one bit. He and Jackson sit on the sofa closest to the door. Ready for a quick escape, Stiles thinks. Ironic because that's exactly what this cancer isn't. "What is it, then?" the Sheriff asks. "You've not decided to get married, have you?" Stiles glances at Jackson.
"No," he says, hastily. With his eyes, he warns Jackson not to say anything. "It's a bit... a bit different to that." He takes a deep breath. "Dad, I have cancer."