Otg2012 asked you: Hi.. Just in case.. Stackson: for different fics: "I've always been into you"/ "I don't wanna keep this a secret anymore" / "It's time, I want us to have children" / "they are never gonna get it".
Notes: I'm on a roll, y'all. References to Lord of the Rings (Elevensies) and that thing DOB does when he kisses girls.
Word Count: 2466
Or: One time Jackson surprised Stiles, one time Stiles surprised Jackson, one time they surprised each other, and one time they surprised the pack.
When Stiles wakes up, Jackson is in the shower, so he rolls over to face the wall. These moments, he likes to tuck into himself, arms curled at his chest and knees pulled up, like he's spooning a ghost or something. He's not going to fall asleep like this, but it's comforting to lie in bed like this. The world feels very small and safe, but delicate, too.
He misses Beacon Hills.
Scott was always the one who wanted to get out of Beacon Hills. He was always restless, looking to find something better. First it was making first line and then it was Allison. He needed the dirt bike so he could actually leave town on the weekends. He needed the sense of freedom.
But Stiles has always had enough in Beacon Hills. There's always been enough to entertain him with overhearing police phone calls. Later, all the werewolf drama had sealed the deal. Beacon Hills was home, comfortable. Why look for more?
Not that it isn't cool to be in London. It just feels like...he's run out on his friends, his pack. He's worried about his dad.
"Hey, you okay?" Jackson asks, stepping out of the bathroom. "Your heart just sped up."
Stiles wipes a tear out of his eye. "I'm fine." He's not going to panic right now, because it would be too humiliating. Anyway, Derek and Scott won't let anything happen to his dad. He's pack, and by extension, so is his father. They protect their own.
But Jackson comes up behind him and ruffles his hair lightly. "It's okay to be upset."
He lets out a shuddery breath and shakes his head, closing his eyes tightly. He thinks about how he's always wanted to be Batman, but never paid attention to the fact that he was an orphan, and really, he wants nothing to do with it. He'd rather just be himself, which, all things considered, hasn't been so bad in the last couple of years.
And he wants his dad to be okay.
"Should we just hang out here for a while?" Jackson asks. He sits down on the edge of the bed and touches Stiles' shoulder softly. "Do you want me to get you some food?"
Stiles shakes his head. He thinks about sitting up, but doesn't. He thinks about rolling over and resting his head on Jackson's lap, but whatever is here between them is too new, too raw. He can't. But…he lifts one of his hands and touches the hand still resting on his shoulder.
He's only a little surprised that Jackson takes the hand and laces their fingers. "Okay?" Jackson murmurs gently.
"Okay," he whispers in agreement.
Eventually, he does sit up and get dressed. The two of them go downstairs to eat what Jackson insists is brunch.
"Elevensies," Stiles corrects, because why not? He's a nerd at heart, and apparently Jackson is okay with that. It's a principle, really.
For his part, he just knocks into Stiles and grins. "Dork," he says, but makes Stiles a breakfast burrito with a grin.
While they eat, Jackson tells him about going to school there. "No lacrosse team," he laments. "It's like I don't know who I am any more."
But the opposite is true, and Stiles can tell. This version of Jackson is happy and light. He's obviously come to grips with everything that happened sophomore year. He thinks about asking him, because he could do with a new attitude. Instead, he takes a bite of his burrito and asks Jackson how full moons are over here.
"It's a lot quieter here," he admits. He traces a finger over the grains in the table and looks up with a soft smile. "Not so stressful. People still liked me and I made a few friends. No one like Danny, of course. But there was no one like McCall here, either."
"Or me?" Stiles wonders.
"There's no one like you, idiot," he replies.
It shouldn't make his stomach flutter, but it does. He takes another bite. "But, like, are you anchored?"
"Yeah, yeah," Jackson says, waving a hand. "I'm fine. There's no supernatural threats here, you know? I think, maybe, California is cursed. First there's Buffy and now you guys. So I'm already less stressed when the full moon comes around, but yeah, I'm anchored, too. It got easier after all the therapy, though."
"You got therapy?" It's an insensitive question. Stiles and tact don't really mix.
"Uh, yeah," he says, looking down at his food. "I worked out a lot of issues with my parents and with Lydia…and you."
"We weren't here, though."
"No," he agrees. "But I was mostly having problems with my memories of you. I did get to talk a lot about feeling out of control, and after everything, well…it's better."
"Is it?" Stiles can't help but ask. He doesn't know how he would have responded to being in Jackson's situation.
Jackson shrugs. "It helps that I don't remember any of it," he admits. His eyes get a kind of far off look for a second before he shakes it off and grins at him. "Are you gonna ask me about what my anchor is?"
"I feel like the answer will make you extremely smug," he replies. "So, no. Maybe later."
He laughs and returns his attention to his food. "Your loss."
They go out further than the neighborhood, this time. They go back downtown and walk around London. Jackson takes him to his favorite spots—a café that sells more coffee than tea and the best muffins Stiles has ever tasted, a park that Stiles spent his first night sleeping in where Jackson liked to run around on full moons, a J. Crew store that Jackson swears up and down saved his life as he transitioned. Stiles holds that this is ridiculous, but it's cute, anyway, and he doesn't mind so much.
He gets a phone call from Scott while they're eating lunch.
"Hey, buddy, how's it going?" he asks, his voice betraying none of the inner turmoil. (Jackson must sense it, though, because he moves his chair closer to his.)
"Um, Stiles? My mom and your dad are dating," Scott says.
"They've been dating for a while," Stiles says, frowning.
"Okay, I know that, but, Stiles—I over heard her tell your dad she wanted to have kids," he hisses. "This is—mom wouldn't!"
"What did the demon say?" he asks. It's out of character for Melissa, which is worrying, but the more pressing issues is if some demon is impregnating people without his father's consent. "You did tell her to look out for him, right?"
"Yeah, of course I did," Scott sighs. "But I think…it's really weird, Stiles. Your dad—I mean, the demon—agreed to it. Is that…a problem?"
"Did you ask Lydia?" Stiles asks grimly, tensing in his seat. "She has the beastiary."
Jackson loops an arm around his shoulders, providing a solid weight for him to lean against. It's grounding; a reminder that he's safe, that there's still time to fix this.
"I tried to call her but I couldn't get a hold of her. Stiles, this is…"
"I need to come home," he says, shutting his eyes and slumping forward. "I told you I shouldn't have even left. Did you talk to Derek?"
"No one is answering their phones. Stiles, I don't know what to do."
"I'm coming home. Try to cockblock our parents as much as possible," he suggests. "I'll talk to you later, okay?" He hangs up and rubs his eyes tiredly. All the sleep he's gotten sharing a bed with Jackson hasn't made enough of a difference. He still feels like the supernatural world is conspiring against his survival.
"What's going on?" Jackson asks, squeezing his shoulder lightly.
Stiles thinks about not telling him. He doesn't really want to, no matter how nice and earnest Jackson seems. No matter what his gut is telling him (which is mostly that he wants to make out with him). "Apparently my demon dad is going to impregnate Scott's mom," he says, and freezes. He hadn't meant to say that, and honestly, he's a little surprised with himself. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. Or whatever. "I need to go back to Beacon Hills and stop this…whatever this is. It's not like I'm opposed to having a sibling, I just don't understand why Melissa would bring it up now, or why the demon is going for it. Plus none of the pack are answering, so…"
"Okay," Jackson says.
"Okay?" Stiles repeats. He's not sure what he was expecting. A fight, perhaps?
"Yeah, I mean, I trust your judgment of the supernatural."
"I'm…leaving, though? I thought you…" That's the crux of it, isn't it? Stiles wants him to beg him to stay or something equally annoying. But his life is not a romantic comedy, despite the tropes that have led them here.
"Oh, I'm coming with you," Jackson says.
Stiles gapes at him. Shakes his head once. Shuts his mouth. Nothing could have surprised him more. "But…you can't."
"Why not?" he asks. "I have an insurance settlement to spend and I'm still stronger than you. If Scott is the only pack member you're sure is okay, I'm not letting you go in alone."
He can't think. "But, I mean…"
"So let's go home and pack first, and then you can tell me everything you know about the demon. Or demons in general," he adds as an afterthought.
"Fine," he sighs.
Stiles tickets are for any time, apparently through Lydia Magic, but Jackson has no issue booking the same flight as him when he mentions that he doesn't give a shit about the price, so could you please make it happen?
It's all still kind of surreal for Stiles, but he follows Jackson through the TSA scans and the two of them take seats in the waiting area. Stiles charges his phone at one of outlets, yawning quietly.
Airports are loud at home and they're loud in Britain. No winning.
"So tell me," Jackson says, leaning close to him.
"We don't know much, or at least, we didn't when I left. Lydia might have figured out more," he chews his lip, thinking about it. "I was almost kidnapped on the way to a pack meeting, but Scott showed up at the last second to stop it. He got cut up pretty bad, but you know, werewolf healing. So he's okay, just…it was pretty awful." He shudders as he remembers the cold hands that had grabbed him.
He nods and pats Stiles' knee. "You can take your time," he reassures him.
He shakes his head in response. "I need to just…say it all. We didn't think it was a big deal. Baddies try to take me or Lydia all the time. They think we're the most helpless, and I guess…well, we're not as strong. They take us to screw with the pack dynamic and to lure the others in, but." He shrugs. "That's not what this was, obviously, because they came for me again." He glances over at Jackson and smiles wryly. "Scott was sleeping over, though, so it was fine."
"I told you it's not weird."
"It's a little weird," he says, smiling. "I don't want to kiss Scott. That makes a difference."
Jackson smiles. "Point taken." He's radiating smugness now, and Stiles just rolls his eyes.
"Anyway," he says, nudging the other boy's leg with his knee. "We figured out pretty quickly that the efforts seemed focused on me after the third attempt. Scott didn't leave my side for a week, but then my dad came home and acted…different."
"And your immediate conclusion was demon?"
"No," Stiles says. "That was mostly from the black eyes I caught in the mirror. I guess they can't hide them from reflective surfaces, or something."
This time when he pats Stiles' knee, he leaves his hand there. It feels weirdly…old school? Victorian? Stiles isn't really sure.
He brushes off his concern and decides to take comfort in the touch, reaching down to take Jackson's hand and lace their fingers. "Scott was still hanging out with me all the time and when my heartbeat spiked, he took me up to my room and made me tell him what was going on. Then he pulled me out of the window and we went to the loft. Derek called Lydia and she started looking it up on the beastiary."
"Was she alone?" Jackson asks curiously, thumb moving slowly over Stiles' knuckles.
"Aiden was with her," he says with a shrug.
"Her new boyfriend," he guesses, voice odd. It must be weird to know your ex has moved on.
Stiles wouldn't really know. "Yeah," he agrees. For a minute he doesn't speak, just staring at their clasped hands and chewing his lip. "She figures he's a demon, but we didn't have a lot of information on demons or people who try to control them."
"So she researched and sent you here," Jackson guesses.
He nods grimly. "She wanted to visit Oxford," he says helplessly.
He sighs. "It's overrated, anyway."
Over the intercom, their flight is called.
"My seat isn't next to yours," Jackson says, sighing down at his ticket. "So I guess I'll see you when we land."
"Yeah," Stiles says, before pulling Jackson close to hug him. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For listening. For coming. Everything, really."
"Don't be stupid," Jackson says, rolling his eyes. But he's smiling before he tucks his head into Stiles' neck and snuffles for a second.
Werewolves and their scent-marking. Whatever.
"Hey," Stiles says, poking Jackson's side. "I think I mentioned something about kissing earlier?"
"Oh, yeah?" He leans back to look at him, their noses touching. When he speaks, Stiles can feel his breath on his lips, cool and tantalizing. "I think we could probably do that."
"Mm," he agrees. "So come on."
He obliges, leaning forward and tilting his head just so, until their lips catch softly, just at the corners.
"Stop teasing," Stiles commands, turning his head until his lips are brushing against Jackson's in full. It's all very slow and strangely sweet. Just a soft brush and return, over and over, until Stiles catches Jackson's lower lip with his teeth and sucks it before releasing and dragging his mouth up to catch the upper one.
Jackson almost chokes in surprise, so Stiles stops long enough to lean back and ask if he's okay. "Fine," he answers. "Fine." Then he pulls Stiles close again to kiss him deeper.
By the time it's over, Jackson looks flustered and still a little shell-shocked.
Stiles feels relatively pleased with himself. "You're adorable," he tells Jackson.
Jackson just blinks at him, stunned, lips swollen but still pink.
A/N: See, no mpreg.
