Jackson left Stiles' house earlier than strictly necessary. Even though some of his instincts were dead set against it, he drove to Danny's house. It was just in time for his best friend to emerge. He acted like he didn't even see Jackson's car, which Jackson knew was impossible. He parked behind Danny quickly, jumping out. His heart beat against his chest and his palms began to sweat.
"Danny wait, please." Danny grimaced, gripping the strap of his duffel bag.
"What do you want Jackson?" he demanded, shoulders rippling with tension.
"I wanted to talk to you Danny come on…"
"Come on what?" Danny snapped, "I only texted you because you had to know." Jackson stopped at the front of the Porsche, not daring to get any closer to Danny.
"What do you want me to do? Tell me what to do and I'll do it. Danny…I need you."
"No you just need somebody." That stung. Jackson pressed on anyways.
"I have somebody. I don't need somebody Dan."
"I can't be around you right now," Danny murmured, his voice catching. He looked around them before looking down. His face contorted. "Ben ended things," he whispered. Jackson stepped closer, he knew he shouldn't. He also knew Danny needed him. He hugged him tightly.
"Danny I'm sorry. I can't even say how much. Please don't hate me. I couldn't stand it if you hated me."
"I have every right," Danny said, words muffled in Jackson's shirt.
"I know," Jackson agreed, sharply relieved that his body wasn't having any unwanted reactions to what was happening, "I'm a bastard and I know."
"I'm not going to disagree with you this time."

Danny pushed him away gently, still looking at his feet.
"Maybe I could explain things to him?" Jackson questioned. "I could say I was on drugs or something."
"Were you on drugs?" Danny demanded, looking up to him.
"I…" Jackson paused, shoving his hands in his pockets as he debated how to answer that. "I can't really explain what happened Danny. Not yet." Danny nodded slowly.
"Alright. Well how about you let me know when you're ready to explain?"
"Yeah," Jackson let out, deflating, "okay."
"Good luck at the game," Danny offered, because that's just the kind of guy he was. Jackson forced a small smile.
"You too." Danny nodded one last time before getting into his car. Jackson sighed and kicked at an errant pebble before doing the same. Fat ran drops began slapping against the glass as he backed out.

…

Stiles shivered as thunder rumbled in the distance.
"Is it supposed to be a bad storm?"
"I'm not sure. Smells like it." Stiles grimaced and shifted closer to Peter.
"I don't like storms," he admitted very quietly. Peter didn't ask any questions. He removed the plate of drinks and the book before pulling the cover up around Stiles' shoulders.
"It's alright," he murmured. Stiles didn't say anything because for the most part he disagreed with the statement. He was in bed with a man he may or may not, who was he kidding, be attracted to with silver spikes digging into his spine and what was probably going to be the thunder storm of the century was making its way to them as he thought about it. All in all not a fantastic start to the day. At least he got to stay home… He sighed, body relaxing slightly when Peter ran two fingertips down the side of his face.
"What's happening to us?" he whispered. Peter frowned.
"Stiles you need to rest."
"I've been in bed for like…eighteen hours," he protested, "I am resting."
"Stiles," Peter repeated, tone entirely disapproving.
"Something is going on," he argued childishly.
"Let me look at your back," Peter cut him off, hands tugging at the hem of Stiles' shirt. That shut Stiles up. He gasped at the alternating pleasure and pain of Peter's hands on him. "I have bad news for you Stiles." He closed his eyes, exhaling on a hiss.
"And that is?"
"We're going to have to take this out."

Stiles groaned. "We can try putting it back in but your body is rejecting it."
"Damn you svelte body, damn you," he muttered, ducking his head into his arms.
"That's not the worst of it," Peter said after another moment, his hands gently kneading at the small of Stiles' back.
"Oh?" Stiles wasn't able to form any other words.
"We'd have to try and put it back in." His mouth ran try as his skin tingled uncomfortably.
"Oh…joy." Peter was quiet for a long moment.
"You aren't particularly attached to this shirt, are you?"
"Um…I don't think so." Stiles wasn't even sure what shirt he was wearing. In another moment he wasn't wearing one at all. Peter ripped the back right off.
"Okay Stiles, fast or slow?" He shivered at the question.
"Uhh," why was he trying to stall? Why? "Fast." Like a band-aid. Right?
"Alright," Peter agreed quietly. He laid one hand over Stiles' mouth, the other brushing his neck. Stiles wondered why Peter was covering his mouth before Peter ripped the metal from his skin.

…

Jackson parked on the edge of the parking lot. He really didn't feel like dealing with his teammates. He was still early. Not to mention, he'd have to be on the bus with them for long enough. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed his house. It hit the answering machine unsurprisingly.
"Hey it's me. I was with Stiles last night…working on a project. And I'll be with the lacrosse team. So…I'll see you guys in a couple of days." There. Now his parents wouldn't send Stiles' father looking for him. Good to know. He dropped his phone to the cup holder and gently tried to stretch out his back. Yeah it still burned a bit. He winced and wondered how Stiles was doing. Peter was with him. Jackson had to smile before shaking his head. He didn't know why the whole thing seemed right to him. It was almost…cute in a way. Sure it made him the third wheel but he could deal with that for now. In fact maybe if they hooked up Peter would be more inclined to let Danny in on their secret. Sounded pretty good to him. If he could explain it to Danny then he and Danny would be fine. Then Jackson could worry about this whole mating frenzy war thing. Come to think of it…shouldn't that be happening right about now? The thought had the hairs on the back of his neck standing straight. He got out of the car and looked around. Scott was nowhere to be seen which at this point seemed odd. A few guys were beginning to gather by the bus. Jackson could see them clearly even though he was too far for them to actually see him.
"Jackson…" His eyes swung to the trees. Maybe he was hearing things. He glanced back to the bus. "Jackson…" Closer now. He shuddered. For the first time in a while Jackson was genuinely scared. He turned back to the car, reaching for the handle, intent on his phone or escape. Both sounded good. Derek growled from the other side of his Porsche, fangs extended, eyes bright blue. Jackson's throat closed and he shoved off the car, running.

…

Stiles could still hear himself screaming in his ears. It was so, so much worse coming back out. Tears were in his eyes and he buried his head in his pillow.
"I'll be right back," Peter whispered, one hand on his shoulder. Stiles didn't bother trying to reply. Nothing he would have said could have been worth it. When someone climbed through the window he assumed it was Jackson, called back by the immense amount of pain he'd just gone through. He should have known Jackson couldn't have gotten back that fast.
"Stiles?" Scott questioned, "What happened?" Stiles got up, pushing himself into a crouch, as much as it fucking hurt.
"Scott!" he hissed, eyebrows shooting up. "You have to get out of here!" Scott looked wounded. Stiles felt horrible for a split second but this was just bad. Really, really bad.
"No, man, look I'm tired of fighting. You're my best friend and mmf-" Stiles had launched himself off the bed and smothered Scott's lips with his own. All kinds of hot, astounding sensations were swelling in his veins. Scott didn't want to fight. Scott was his best friend. And he'd missed Scott. He licked and nipped at Scott's mouth, moans slipping out as he did. The pain in his back was fading. Everything was fading. Scott was still entirely present, his hands on Stiles' arms then chest. "Stiles-" he managed, pushing him slightly, "what-" another push, "doing?"
"God," Stiles breathed, taking hold of either side of Scott's face, "shut up will you?" He was pulling Scott close again when a growl so loud it shook the room stopped him. Entire body shooting ramrod straight, Stiles looked over his shoulder into Peter's glowing eyes.

Peter was across the room in a blur of motion. He yanked Scott out of Stiles' grasp easily and threw him headlong out the window. He turned back on Stiles then, eyes still red as he growled deep in his chest. Stiles shivered and stumbled backwards, landing on the bed. He wasn't sure what to do. Peter stepped closer, growls gradually decreasing in volume. Still Stiles couldn't help but scoot backwards.
"P-Peter…? Are uh, are you in there?"
"I am mentally aware," he said, smiling dangerously, "yes."
"I-I um, I am ah, s-sorry. I didn't mean t-to k-kiss him." His body heated at the memory and Peter was suddenly in bed with him, hands and knees caging Stiles' body in.
"You kissed him?" Stiles whimpered at the back of his throat.
"Y-Yes," he admitted, knowing a lie could be devastating at this point. Peter growled again.
"You can't go around kissing people when I take your collar off," Peter breathed. Stiles nodded quickly, shivering.
"We can put it back on," he said in an effort at appeasing him.
"Not yet," Peter's eyes dragged over Stiles' face. "Kiss me Stiles," he said, eyes moving to his lips before swiveling back up to his eyes. Stiles' mind raced.
"I don't want to," he breathed, lips trembling. "Not like this."
"Like what?" Peter snapped, eyes pulsing brighter.
"When you're all wolfed out and jealous and not thinking right," Stiles clarified. Peter glanced down, frowning before sighing. It was aching watching Peter slowly calm down.
"I apologize Stiles." Stiles touched his neck when he began to pull back.
"Can I kiss you now?" he asked quietly.
"I'm afraid that wouldn't be a good idea."

A/N: I know. I'm cruel. To make up for it I leave you with a short note.

pleasedon'tkillme

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