"Dude, where's McCall? I thought he'd be here, too," Jackson said as he stepped out of his car.

Stiles shrugged. "Nah, he's got Allison issues. I didn't feel like bothering him."

"Right." He looked up at the police department and said, "Second question: why are we here?"

"I'm bored. And my jeep decided to throw a temper tantrum and not start, so I'm here until the tow comes to pick it up."

"So, I'm your ride."

"You don't have to be if you don't want to," Stiles said. "Like I said, I'm bored, so I texted you to hang out. You don't have to be here…"

"No, it's cool. We'll hang out. I'll give you a ride." Honestly, Jackson would do anything for him. He's too…too…he's Stiles. He has that something that makes it impossible for Jackson to say no to him. And right now, leaning against the stair railing, with his jeans pulling just enough in the right spot...

"Thanks. That's great, because, otherwise, I'd have to stay here until my dad's done – aka really late – or walk home and I just don't feel like doing either of those things. The tow should be here in, like, an hour."

"So, what's the plan?" Jackson leaned up against the opposite side of the railing, just a few steps down. From there, he could faintly smell Stiles' cologne and, oh, if only he could step in, bury his face in Stiles' collarbone, grab onto his shirt, and take a deep, deep breath. And, when Jackson thought about it, what really was stopping him from doing just that?

"Well, I had another agenda when I texted you…"

Everyone would see, though. They're right there in public. With an entire police department in front of him.

"…See, I really want to talk to someone about this…"

But, does that even matter? Jackson's fingers twitched, itching to reach out and hold onto Stiles. Why should he care what they think? It's not like PDA is illegal.

"…And I can't talk to Scott about it."

Why are his lips so…? Jackson realized Stiles was waiting for him to say something.

"Hey, I'm here to talk," he said.

"Great, but," Stiles looked around, "not out here in the open. It's kind of private." He tugged at Jackson's sleeve for a second and said, "Follow me."

Jackson was happy to oblige. But, what did he want to talk about with him that he couldn't say to McCall? Those two had been friends longer than he had. Maybe it was something about Scott. Maybe it was something about Jackson, himself. Oh God, what if Stiles feels the same way? Shit, he should have done it. He should have grabbed Stiles right when he'd thought about it. That's when Jackson noticed something.

"Hey, you're really quiet."

"What? Oh, yeah. Sorry. I really don't want to talk about this out in public and it's kind of the only thing on my mind right now, other than my stupid car and I'm afraid that if I start talking, it'll just slip out and things that I don't want heard will be heard and, besides, we're where I want to be."

They had stopped in front of one of the prison transport vans. Stiles pulled a set of keys out of his sweatshirt and opened the back. Inside, it was all metal and reflective, with handcuffs and chains everywhere. Shit, was all Jackson's brain could muster.

"Here?" he said out loud.

"Yeah," Stiles said, stepping up into the van, "It's private and no one is going to come in here. I have the keys."

"Okay." Jackson stepped in and sat down on a bench while Stiles shut the doors. This exact situation hadn't been in Jackson's fantasies before, but he was definitely seeing how it could.

Stiles sat on the bench across from him, crossed his arms, and propped his feet up on the other side. He looked up at the ceiling and didn't say anything.

"So, what's up?"

Stiles sighed. "Give it a second. This is the hardest thing I've ever had to try to say to someone before. It's weird and new and I can't figure out if I have the balls to actually start talking about it."

Now, the temptation to touch and kiss and hold Stiles was almost too much to bear. But if it was this difficult for Stiles to say anything, Jackson didn't want to push it.

A few minutes passed and the enclosed space started getting a little too warm. Jackson started feeling uncomfortable. It didn't help that Stiles was sitting there in what looked like about 4 layers of shirts and vests and sweaters.

"It's hot in here."

Stiles looked at Jackson for the first time since they got into the van. "Really? I'm fine."

"How?"

Stiles shrugged.

"Okay. Well, if this is going to last much longer, I'm taking off my shirt."

When his shirt was over his head, Jackson saw Stiles looking at the ceiling again. He sat back and did his best to display everything. Stiles didn't seem to notice.

Then, Stiles sighed and said, "I think I'm in love with Derek."

"What?" Jackson couldn't help saying it a little louder than was probably necessary.

"Yeah. Yeah, I was surprised, too. I mean, I didn't realize I liked him until I was, well, completely infatuated. And now I think it's love. Or maybe some deep-as-shit infatuation with him. And I can't tell Scott. I mean…no, I can't tell Scott."

Jackson felt a bit light-headed. Well, at least he hadn't kissed Stiles earlier. That would have been a disaster.

"No," he mustered, "I guess you can't."

"I mean, there's all this animosity between them right now. Plus, he's got the whole Allison thing going on and…"

Shit. Shit shit shit.

"But, Derek. There's just…he's just…He has these ridiculous eyes. They're all these different colors in one. I mean, how does that color even exist? Does it exist? Like, anywhere else other than on his eyes? They're just so commanding, but I think I can also see all of his emotions in them. It doesn't matter what he's saying or how straight or angry or whatever his face is, I think I can see what he's really feeling in that hazel."

But, what's that stupid muddy hazel next to Stiles' deep and completely perfect brown eyes? And Stiles' face never has to be fierce or angry. It's just perfect and it shows everything and it's expressive. What's wrong with an expressive face?

But, Jackson said, "I didn't know he had feelings."

Stiles looked at him. "Of course he does. His whole family died in a fire and he's been all alone for so long. All he needs is people. Well, werewolves. Wolves are a pack animal and I'm amazed he's made it this long without completely losing it."

Jackson wasn't sure how he was listening to this without losing it.

"And I wish Scott would consider that. He doesn't have to think he'll lose everything if he makes a pack with Derek. It would be beneficial to both of them."

And Stiles would get to see him more often, flashed through Jackson's mind.

"Have you heard Derek talk?"

Jackson couldn't really remember anything good about Derek speaking. But, he didn't say anything. He just sat there and let Stiles talk.

"His voice is so…And, sometimes, I can hear what he's feeling, I'm sure of it. And I don't care if this makes me sound like a stalker, but I wish I could just sneak a recording device in his shirt or something and then play back him talking whenever I want to. I'd fall asleep listening to that. So important. So deep." Stiles paused a moment.

Jackson sat still, believing that, if he moved he might hit Stiles. Or kiss him.

"I wish he'd say my name."

Stiles stopped talking. Jackson wished he could be anywhere but in the van. Actually, he wished Stiles would straddle him and start kissing him.

"I don't think he even notices me. That's the worst part about the whole thing."

Damn straight.

"Isn't it, though? When you are so…in love, I guess, with someone else and they don't even know you exist as more than the friend of the werewolf they're trying to recruit?"

"Yeah." Jackson knew exactly what that felt like. Well, not the werewolf part, of course, but still. "Yeah, that's the worst."

"Yeah," Stiles sighed.

Maybe if Jackson had just kissed him, Stiles would have forgotten about Derek and everything would be going way better. Maybe he still had time to do exactly that.

Stiles' phone started ringing. They both jumped.

Stiles looked at the screen and said, "Hey! They tow truck's here." He jumped up and opened the van. When he stepped down, he turned to look at Jackson. "You might want to put your shirt back on. It's definitely colder out here."

As Stiles ran out front to meet up with the tow truck, Jackson put on his shirt, stepped out of the van, and closed the doors. He was feeling a little numb. And like he'd missed out on an opportunity.

Mostly, though, he was feeling crushed.

He walked around to the front just as the truck was driving away with Stiles' jeep and the sheriff stepped outside.

"Stiles! Hey, Jackson."

"Hey, Mr. Stilinski."

"Dad! Jackson's my ride, they took my car, here's some keys I found, see ya!" Stiles shouted, tossing the van's keys to his dad and running to Jackson's car.

"Hold it, young man!"

Jackson didn't feel like sticking around to listen, so he sat down in his car and started it. After a moment, Stiles joined him.

The sheriff waved a thank you to Jackson. He waved back and pulled out.

"Hey, man, thanks again."

"Yeah, it's no problem."

"No, I mean, thank you. For listening. I needed to get that off my chest. It feels good that someone else knows."

Jackson didn't see it that way.

"Still no problem. But, I don't have any advice for you."

"No, no. That's cool. I don't need advice. I just needed to talk. I mean, I do need advice, because I don't know what the hell I'm doing. But, I didn't think you'd be able to help. You have Lydia. And the heart of every other girl in the school. What do you know about falling in love with men? Or Derek?"

Right. What does Jackson know about falling in love with men? Or Stiles?