Happy V Day to those who like to celebrate, and happy Sunday to everyone else. Please stay safe!


Chapter 67

Stiles probably shouldn't have been so surprised to find Jackson on his doorstep the very next morning, but he was. Jackson had even brought breakfast, waffles and chicken from the diner, to buy himself some goodwill.

"Hey, come in," Stiles said with a yawn. "You're early."

"I couldn't sleep," Jackson replied. He found his way to the kitchen. "Where's your dad?"

"Sleeping in. He's on nights this week." Stiles relieved the other teen of his delicious burden and directed him to the table. "Sit, I'll make coffee. Peter brought a French press and those deli coffee beans, so I'm pretty sure you'll survive a prolonged stay in our humble abode."

"Sounds good," Jackson replied, offering a small smirk. He watched Stiles as he slowly got out plates, cutlery, and cups. Without preamble, he said, "I wanted to ask if you can't give me at least something. I sort of get why you don't want to overwhelm me, but knowing that something really crappy happened to me without having any of the details doesn't make it any better."

Stiles didn't even try to pretend to prevaricate. "Sure," he replied as he flicked on the electric kettle. "It wasn't my intention to let you stew. Let's just get breakfast ready and then we'll talk."

Jackson could be very good if he wanted to. He actually helped with setting the table and placed the butter dish and the small carafe of full-fat milk just so. He even offered to cut the fruit Stiles wanted to have with the waffles.

Finally, they sat down. Stiles took a moment to inhale the heady aroma of the steeping coffee in the French press. It mingled with the savory smell of the chicken and the sweet notes of the still-warm waffles and lit up his sleepy brain as few other things could.

They divided the food between them and began to eat.

"First of all, you and your family are invited to a barbeque tomorrow afternoon," Stiles said, a few bites in. "You'll come, won't you?"

"Everyone will be there, won't they?" Jackson muttered suspiciously.

Stiles smirked. "That's the idea."

"I'm not a charity case."

"You sort of are, right now," Stiles countered easily, ignoring Jackson's scowl, "but it doesn't follow that it has to stay that way. You were bitten by a werewolf, and as it did for Lydia, it woke something in you. I'm not gonna tell you what, yet, but now that the black goober phase is over, you'll be turning and who better to support you than people who also turn occasionally."

Jackson's fork froze on its way up to his mouth. "What?"

"You're definitely not going to die, hooray," Stiles answered, obnoxiously cheerful. He speared a piece of honey melon with his knife and popped it into his mouth. "Welcome to the supernatural club. I can't say that it's exclusive because we've got some serious douchebags in it, but yay to better health and reflexes. You'll be a terror on the lacrosse field, I'm sure."

Jackson was stunned.

Stiles poked him in the shin with his naked toes. "Hey, are you tracking?"

"I …" Jackson shook his head. "I suspected, after not dying a wretched death, but …"

"But it's still a lot to be confronted with. I get it." Stiles lifted the French press. "More coffee?"

Jackson nodded, but it was obvious that he wasn't really all there.

"So, that wasn't a huge reveal, compared to what's still waiting for you, but it might've been enough for one day," Stiles said. "But I could tell you a little more if you need it."

Jackson jolted. "Uh, no. I don't think so." His baby blues latched onto Stiles' in a quiet sort of desperation. "I didn't want this."

"Almost none of us did," Stiles said sympathetically. "But we're dealing with it. We even deal well with it, a lot of the time. Plus, we have each other, that helps. So, as I said, you're welcome to our club."

"Will I turn when people can see me?" Jackson asked worriedly. "I don't want anyone to find out. I don't want hunters to know me."

"I can, with complete certainty, assure you that you won't," Stiles answered. "If you get attacked in broad daylight, I'm convinced that you'll manage to get away without betraying your secret."

"How?" Jackson demanded.

"Let's table that one for later, okay? Just trust me that you've got someone badass on your side now, and he'll take care of it for now." Stiles bit his lip. "I also asked him to watch out for your parents, I hope that's alright. With the alphas probably not gone I didn't want to take any chances."

"Wha … you've talked to him?"

Stiles sighed. "Not as such. But that's okay, he understands me very well and wants to help. It's pretty complicated. Give yourself a couple of days to digest this before moving on. Can you do that?"

"I … yeah. I should." Jackson pressed his lips together. "I'm so pissed off that I need you to coddle me of all people."

"I was the best out of a bunch of bad options," Stiles said and smiled wryly. "It's stupid and infuriating to say that you'll understand after the fact, but the truth is that that's probably exactly what'll happen. But hey, I'm super glad that you can acknowledge your unhappiness without letting everyone else know it through your fists. Progress, man!"

Incredibly, Jackson flushed hotly and dropped his gaze to his clenched hands. "I was such a bastard."

"Yep, you sure were," Stiles agreed, keeping his tone mild. "But it seems like you've been doing better for a while now."

"Therapy helps some," Jackson said roughly, fiddling with his cup and still not looking at Stiles. "I suppose I should thank you for telling me to do it."

Stiles shrugged. "You can if you want to, but I'd be much happier with your promise that you'll continue to go. It'll help you deal with this as well."

Jackson slumped a little. "I wish I could talk to my therapist about werewolves and stuff."

"You can at least talk with your dad if the pack or Lydia and Danny aren't enough, that's pretty awesome already," Stiles told him. "And I know that your dad and Peter also want to tell your mom so she can be there for you, too. Maybe you should wait for your dad's okay before you mention anything to her, but yeah. You don't have to rely on just the pack if you don't want to."

"You don't have friends outside the circus," Jackson accused.

Stiles didn't resent him for this knee-jerk reaction because it was true. "Nope, I don't exactly have time for outsiders right now," he agreed. "But Isaac and I are friendly with some of the kids in our martial arts class. A couple of weeks back we started going to the diner together afterwards for milkshakes and stuff. That's enough for some time away. We don't need more at the moment."

"Mmh."

"Hey, maybe you should do, or pretend to do, martial arts as well. Should something happen and you have to defend yourself, it'd help explain your new skills," Stiles suggested, perking up. "You'd have the time for it right now."

"I really don't have the time for it. I won't give up lacrosse," Jackson said sharply.

"Chill, that's not what I meant," Stiles said, waving Jackson's objection away. "It's just for show, dumbass. As long as you can truthfully say that you've gone a couple of times you'll have plausible deniability."

Jackson scoffed. "Are you so sure that I'll need that?"

"Uh, yeah. You definitely need that." Stiles slathered a bit of butter onto his waffle piece and pointed it at Jackson. "I told you, your better half is a badass, and if I've learned anything about bad guys it's that they just can't give it a rest."

oOo

Preparing for the barbeque was a team effort. Erica's parents enthusiastically offered to clean up the Stilinski backyard for the get-together, the neighbouring old ladies only needed a hint of an invitation to promise to bake pies and attend, and Stiles felt no shame whatsoever for alluding to yet another stray that needed some fattening up.

"You're evil," Derek said to Stiles while they were carrying Peter's super expensive gourmet meat and sausages outside. "Jackson's not even here and the ladies have already adopted him."

"Well, it's only fair, since you're gonna be packmates," Stiles replied and grinned impishly. "But never fear, Sourwolf, you'll always be my favourite."

Derek glanced at Stiles with a strange expression on his face. "Is that so?"

"Well, you've got seniority going for you," Stiles said, gearing up for a ramble, "and then you're a giant marshmallow that gives the best hugs on the planet, which reminds me that I want one later, plus you're good at handiworks - don't think I didn't notice that you fixed the warped steps of the porch, dude - and you're just a really good friend. Like, my best friend. Not much ground to usurp your place there, dude."

They reached their destination, the small table next to the already heated-up grill, and put down their delicious cargo. Once that was done, Derek simply grabbed Stiles and hugged him, long and warm and oh so well.

"See?" Stiles nearly rumbled and happily smushed his face into the bend of Derek's shoulder. "That's a hug."

"Better than mine?" Stiles' father asked beside them, amused. His expression was a little melancholic, however. "Am I losing my dad cred already?"

"Never," Stiles retorted. "Dad hugs will always be dad hugs, they're a league of their own." He rubbed Derek's shoulders to lessen the painful reminder that his own father wasn't around anymore to give him one. It was Stiles' declared goal to have his father and Derek be friendly enough one day that they'd be comfortable sharing this particular pleasure. "The coals look about ready. I can't wait to try Kobe steak."

"I can't believe that Peter went that far for the Whittemores," the sheriff countered. "Kobe steaks, Jesus. It's a good thing he'll be on hand to grill them himself because I certainly won't set myself up for that disaster."

"It's not just the Kobe meat. Everything is organic and gourmet," Derek said, not quite flatly but certainly a little mockingly. "Peter hit the farmer's market himself and forced Isaac to help pick out the best stuff."

"Everything's a lesson," Stiles said with a shrug. "And with the way Peter cooks, I'd endure picking out ingredients any day. It'd be worth it."

"Will Graham probably thought the same thing about Hannibal Lecter," Derek huffed, surprising both Stilinskis with his dry humour.

"Peter's many things, but he's not a people-eater," Stiles protested, just quiet enough so Erica's parents couldn't hear. Thankfully they were heading into the house and didn't seem to be paying much attention. "He isn't, right?"

"And this is where I'll be leaving you guessing," Derek said with a smirk. "I'm getting the pans with the roast vegetables."

He left Stiles with his father and it didn't even take a minute for Erica and Boyd to take his place.

"Just a heads up, my parental units are off to clean your bathrooms before the food is ready," Erica told the sheriff. "It's their way of saying thanks for the invitation. If you've got any embarrassing stuff in there, they won't breathe a word of it, promise."

Stiles' father sighed. "They do know that they're guests, yes?"

"It's their hospitality gift," Erica sighed with an eye roll. "Their friends have gotten used to it and most do appreciate the help around the house. I hope you won't talk to them about it, though. They'd probably go home crying because they like you too much to not offer their help."

Stiles patted his dad's shoulder. "Nah, we won't. Thanks for telling us."

"They mean well, but I draw the line at my unmentionables," John muttered. "If they've started a wash, all bets are off."

Erica's shoulders slumped a little in relief. "Thank you. You are awesome. You have no idea just how awkward it sometimes was to explain." She turned and hurried off after her parents.

Boyd, however, remained and nodded at the Stilinskis. "I appreciate that you're not going to upset her folks. They're too nice for words, almost like small kids."

That caught Stiles' attention. "Uhm, sorry if this sounds rude, but are they somehow … damaged? Do you know? Maybe they inhaled too many bleach fumes or something?"

Boyd shrugged. "I don't think so; they're too good at their job. They also went to college and earned top grades. They're just super nice. They'd do anything for Erica, literally."

"Huh," Stiles murmured.

"What are you thinking?" his father asked suspiciously.

"Nothing." Stiles shook his head. "I'll be back in a second."

He took off and went straight to the kitchen, where Peter and Isaac were cutting fruit for dessert.

"You're gonna bring in Erica's parents, aren't you?" Stiles asked without preamble.

Peter, to his credit, merely inclined his head. "Took you long enough to come to that conclusion."

"That'd be awesome for Erica, but why so soon?" Stiles pressed. "You still barely know her … oh, fuck me."

"Whenever you're ready," Peter quipped, grinning, "but why exactly?"

"Has she talked to you about wanting the bite?" Stiles asked, ignoring his sudden flush and involuntary perk up. Thankfully, Isaac did the same. He barely even twitched an eyebrow.

Peter's amused grin softened and he nodded. "As a matter of fact, she did. Just last week, so don't think that she went behind your back for long. She merely wanted to find out whether she even stood a chance."

"Please tell me she does," Stiles breathed. He looked over his shoulder, even though Isaac and Peter both would know immediately if someone was close enough to overhear. "Isaac said that she needs to calm down a little first, and there's her epilepsy, but she's great."

"I discussed it with Isaac and we're of the same opinion regarding her inclusion," Peter answered. He abandoned his cutting board and placed a hand around Stiles' neck in a gentle gesture of reassurance. "You do know why she came to me and not to you, yes?"

"She wouldn't want me as her alpha?" Stiles guessed almost tonelessly.

Peter tipped his forehead against Stiles'. "Exactly. She doesn't want to be subordinate to you. The relationship you have with Derek isn't for her. The same goes for Boyd, just so you won't be surprised later."

Stiles couldn't help the completely irrational feeling of abandonment. In the back of his mind, Lou was huffing discontentedly about the perceived rejection.

"Hey, it's not about you not being a good alpha," Peter rumbled, stroking Stiles' neck. "They actually put a lot of thought into their decision. They want to keep your friendship as close as possible to what it is now. That simply wouldn't be the case if you were their alpha. They don't want you as their caretaker and they especially don't want to ask for your financial support when it comes to their education and other needs."

"Oh." Stiles relaxed a little. "Makes sense." He rubbed his chest. "I was often one of the last kids to be chosen during gym class. Not a great feeling, is all."

Peter snorted. "Those two little assholes deliberately chose me so they can continue horsing around with you, sweetheart. I'd feel ill-used if it didn't mean that you'll always be around for their and Isaac's sake."

Stiles looked up, their foreheads still touching, and their eyes met. His gaze grew hot and a little hazy - so much so that the clear lines of reality blurred a little and the wolf spirit hidden in the human flesh became visible. Peter's answering red stare was just as searching.

"You drive me insane," Peter finally said roughly.

The grip of his hand tightened slightly and Stiles was sure that he didn't imagine the slight prick of claws against his skin. It sent a shudder down his back and caused him to lick his suddenly dry lips.

"Could you stop with the flirting now?" Isaac interjected sharply. "Non-gay teenager here who doesn't need your fucking sex hormones to get an unwanted erection. Thanks."

Violently flushing, Stiles backed away. "Oh god, I'm sorry! I don't know why … I'll just leave."

He ran from the kitchen, face flaming and heart pounding. He wanted to be angry at Isaac for putting him on the spot like that, but all he could feel was relief. Sure, that thing between him and Peter was exciting and made him feel frankly fantastic about himself, but he'd made his father and Peter a promise to protect them both from prosecution and social fallout.

Still, Stiles needed a moment to himself to cool off and get his bearings. Alone on the front porch, he breathed deeply. Shoving that sensation of closeness away seemed utterly wrong and so he allowed himself to relive it and even wallow in it for a moment. Lou was totally on board; for a werewolf spirit, he was a real lover boy that just wanted to be close to his favourite people.

And well, Peter was certainly that to Stiles, wasn't he?

"Damn it," Stiles muttered, rubbing his face with his hands in frustration.

Silently, Isaac sidled up to him and pressed their shoulders together. "It'll be okay, you know."

"I don't see how," Stiles replied dully. "I'm being ridiculous. What the fuck?"

"Well, if you are, so is he," Isaac said with a shrug. "I heard on Oprah that that makes things better."

Stiles sniffed quietly. "That's bullshit. That just makes two people miserable instead of one." He turned to his friend and leaned a little into his tall frame. "You said you don't wanna date. Can I ask why?"

Isaac was silent for a moment. "I do have a lot to do right now. That wasn't a smokescreen for Erica. I just don't feel up to it yet, emotionally. My dad was a monster, he wanted me totally dependent on him. I'm not gonna try a relationship with that kind of ghost hanging over me. I can barely think about sex without wigging out."

"Wow. Shit."

"Yeah." Isaac rubbed his cheek against Stiles' temple. "If you want we can be celi-bros together. We might even win Derek for our club. Poor dude's so done with women for the time being."

Stiles grimaced. "I don't know whether I want to be touched or offended."

"Go with touched, we don't need any more negativity in our lives," Isaac advised, smirking. He straightened a little. "There come the Whittemores."

Stiles greeted Jackson's parents warmly and sent them through the house to the garden. Jackson, however, lingered a little.

"Shit, Stilinski, remember when I told you that you looked dumped?" the teen asked.

Stiles narrowed his eyes a little. "Yeah. Unfortunately."

Jackson raised both eyebrows. "Well, you don't, anymore. What gives? You got someone over the weekend or what?"

"None of your business," Isaac said easily. "You wanna something to drink? We got everything."

"Sure." After one last, searching look at Stiles, Jackson followed Isaac, leaving Stiles behind to wait for Lydia and Danny by himself.


End of chapter 67