Keep walking

especially when you think there's nothing left

Rationally he does know this whole thing is crazy. He knows he can't expect Stiles to fall for him, he knows he has to work for it, work with Stiles to make this make sense again, for their lives not to be hell – but he can't.

He's a mess.

He misses Lydia. He longs for her desperately, her smell, and the way she used to smile just at him when they were alone – gods, he even misses her power plays, the way she would try to always take advantage of everything, always trying to turn the situation on her favor, he misses watching The Notebook with her, even.

She's saved him – so many times in so many ways, and he had always been a jerk to her, and just when he thought, for those few seconds between finally snapping out of Argent's control and turning into a proper wolf, when he realized things could be okay again, that he actually finally had what he had been asking for, he had felt his smell and it all went to hell.

Consciously, he knew he had screwed up big time. He knew it when Derek explained to him what had happened, he knew it every time Peter stared at him disapprovingly, he knew it when even Isaac called him an idiot – not to his face, but muttering along the Hale property, as if Jackson couldn't listen to him. He had tied them together with that bite.

Forever.

Now he knew that if he hadn't bitten Stiles, they could have worked around it – found a way to make this mate thing go away. The urge would always be there, to bite, to have, to possess, but this… sick feeling he had in the pit of his stomach that only ever went away when Stiles was touching his skin, this despairing need to see Stiles, to protect him, to make sure every single person in the whole fucking universe knew that boy was his: this could have been avoided.

But if Jackson is learning something from this whole hellish experience is that wishing, and hoping, and thinking of what could have been done or not done is nothing. It makes no difference, it doesn't help anything.

They are what they are because he did what he did, and they had to find a way to make this work before he ended up killing that idiot.

And then dying. Because from what Peter had said, if your marked mate died, from natural causes, it'd be enough to make you crazy.

But if you killed them, with your own hands? Well, you were just as good as dead.

They had to talk, he knows it. They have to have a rational, normal conversation, but he can't – Stiles smells afraid all the time, he feels so wrong, he doesn't want this so clearly that Jackson goes insane by just looking at him. He wants to bite him again, mark him one more time to make Stiles see they belong.

Of course this is bad. Of course Stiles' rejection of him just gets worse and worse every time they see each other, because who would respond well to threats and growling? No one.

Especially not the boy who used sarcasm and jokes as his defense for so long, and never really knew when to shut up – Stiles had never been afraid of him. Scott would cower from him during Lacrosse practice, back when he wasn't so full of it, but Stiles never did. He answered back, even when he had his ass kicked in response.

And this was the boy he was trying to threaten into… into what? Falling in love with him? Great odds, sure.

It's not like he had always despised Jackson on principle, and things had gotten even worse when he started dating Lydia, and the true cherry on top of it was his being the Kanima. Of course Stiles would fall for him.

Yeah, right.

And this was, of course, just another ridiculous facet of this ridiculous situation – he was attracted to Stiles. He wanted him. In a primal way, nothing like it was with Lydia, he wanted to have him, begging for Jackson – the mere thought of his lips was enough to make his breathing pick up.

Jackson had never felt attracted to another boy like this. Yes, he had made out with a few boys one time or another, he could appreciate Danny and Derek, and even McCall, in an aesthetic way, but he didn't feel for them as he did for girls. They weren't his thing, even if he said to Danny he was everybody's type.

And yet, Stiles was there to make him know he wanted him –the stupid, skinny kid, always with the baggy clothes and the mouth that would never shut.

When they return from Stiles' house that morning he's in a dark, dark mood. It's not rage or anger, it's just… he doesn't even know. Everything seems to be falling apart, and this is not right – things should be looking up now, not down, not getting worse. He sits on the porch and puts his head on his knees, trying to focus, but it's hard.

He can't sleep.

The only night he had actually slept for more than a few shaky minutes at a time had been this one – with Stiles under him. And yet he hadn't rested, because Stiles was tense and in a weird way the boy had felt… empty.

There had been some fear there, of course, he could practically smell it, but he was also containing something. His heartbeat steady, if a little too fast for him to be calm, his eyes open when Jackson had finally fallen asleep, and staring unblinkingly when he woke up because of the sound of the Sheriff's car. He couldn't sleep without Stiles, and Stiles, apparently, couldn't sleep with him.

They couldn't communicate. And they had to.

If they didn't, Jackson would have to give up, and he had never been a quitter. Being a werewolf now wouldn't change that, he wouldn't give up without a fight.

He just needed… to know what to do.

He lets the air rush out of him – it's not quite a sigh, it's an irritated, annoyed sound, because he needs to fix this, he needs something and he can't get it. Who could help him?

Derek was quite obviously a crappy Alpha, and Isaac wouldn't even be in the same room as him for more than a few seconds, and Peter…

That guy was just all kinds of weird, and wasn't he supposed to be dead, anyway?

"Out of all the angry, broken, emotionally disturbed teens surrounding my dear nephew, Stiles has always been my favorite. Lydia, of course, is a close second, but Stiles has that spark beyond and above that I really admire."

Jackson looks up and sees Peter towering over him with a mocking smile. He doesn't answer, and the smile broadens, Peter sitting beside him on the broken porch.

"He isn't afraid of getting things done, he's smart, he thinks fast, and most importantly, he doesn't let his love blind him. He knows Scott's faults, he knows his father's faults, and yet he cares for them, and protects them, without ever denying that they are faulty. Knowing they aren't perfect" he makes a pause looking sideways at Jackson, who is staring determinedly ahead of him, "Most people have to pretend they don't see their loved one's errors and mistakes. They pretend those people are perfect, and held together and amazing all the time – Stiles doesn't. It's a rare quality, and also a valuable one, because it means he can come to care about anyone, even the people he once despised. Just look at him and Derek. He cares about Derek now, in a strange way, but he does. You can make that happen, Jackson" he finishes, and Jackson doesn't answer for a few seconds, because he's never thought about Stiles like that – hell, he's never thought about Stiles at all. Stiles existed in that space where he was either being ignored or told off by Jackson, and then he forgot all about the other boy's existence.

And not his very own existence depended on him.

Very poetic.

"How can he be your favorite, he isn't even a werewolf" he mutters finally, and Peter snorts.

"Not for lack of offering. Derek would bite him in a second if Stiles asked. He doesn't offer it because he knows Scott would be so pissy he'd gain a Beta to lose another" Peter makes a pause, and Jackson can feel the man staring at him at him again, "I offered him the bite. He didn't have to ask, or threaten, or implore. He didn't have to be dying, or have an abusive father or a serious disease. I offered because he'd be a great addition to the pack" he pauses again, and Jackson finally looks at him, curious, "He refused. Lying through his teeth about it, but he refused. He wanted it, and he refused. I don't know why, he must have his own reasons, but he did."

The smirk is gone from Peter's face now, and he's looking at Jackson with a serious expression.

"You don't know him. You have never paid attention to him. You don't even like him. And yet you want to make this work, and you think that growling will take you somewhere. You're not trying, Jackson. And Stiles isn't going to either. You know why?" he asks and makes a pause, during which Jackson doesn't even move, "Because he doesn't have to. He knows, deep down, in that dark corner inside his soul that he doesn't even like admitting he has, that he can manage to find ways to get rid of you. You go crazy on him? Allison will be the first in line to get her dad to kill your sorry ass, and we won't even be able to make trouble about it. You will have deserved it."

Jackson's anger flares up, and his eyes are shining blue.

"Why don't you let it happen, then?" he asks, voice rough and barely controlled, and Peter smirks at him.

"First of all because it's amusing having the two of you around. Second because we are a pack, no matter how broken my nephew's choices in company are. We help each other. But we can't help you if you don't try" he says and gets up, leaving Jackson on the porch, "By the way," he talks again, almost inside the house, "You have to be here for the full moon, but you can go home now. Derek's letting you go" and then he disappears inside the broken house.

Jackson looks at the door and sighs, this time dejectedly.

He doesn't know how to try.

X

Stiles assumes he must have slept at some point during his breakdown, because when he comes to, it's already past noon. He takes a deep breath, listening to the faint sounds of dishes being shoved around, and almost smiles, thinking his dad is trying to cook something.

His dad is amazing, but, damn, he can't cook to save his life.

Stiles can't either. Their eating life was sad like that.

He gets up and takes a fast shower, and if he scrubs a little more than absolutely necessary at his neck no one is ever going to know.

When he gets downstairs, his dad is putting some grilled cheese on the table, along with some juice and other snack foods.

"I thought you'd sleep the day away" the man comments, sitting down. Stiles sits too and sighs, sleepily.

"I didn't sleep very well last night. I think I only really slept when you got home" he explains, biting into his food.

John looks at him between exasperated and fond.

"You don't have to worry about me."

"I know. I wasn't. I just couldn't sleep, I heard your car and then I must have passed out after that" he explains, and they keep eating in a silence that isn't strained but isn't comfortable either – there are no comfortable silences when Stiles is around because he hates the silence. The very fact that he isn't speaking is a sure sign that something is very wrong with the boy, and Stiles knows his father knows that too.

"Are you hanging out with Jackson later?" John finally asks, staring at Stiles sideways, and Stiles looks at him, startled – he so wasn't expecting that question.

"I… uh… I'm not sure. We didn't… talk about this. Yet. Actually, I haven't even talked to him about his parents coming here" he mutters, shaking his head.

Last night had been… all kinds of crazy.

"Yes, that seems like something you two should talk about" John says, and he looks as if he wants to say more and doesn't know how, "I want you to know I'm okay with this, Stiles. I'm really okay with it. But the way you seem to be behaving, last night and now… Just… His parents sounded really serious about this – hell, he talked to his parents and asked them to come here to talk to us. He's serious about this, and if you don't think you want that, you shouldn't lead him on" he finishes his speech looking as uncomfortable as Stiles feels, and the boy wants to laugh.

Lead him on?

Lead him on?

Seriously?

He snorts, and shakes his head, with a small smile on his lips.

"I'm not leading him on, dad. He knows where I stand in this thing. And we're… well, we're serious, I just didn't think we'd be bringing the parents into the mix this soon." It's half a lie, but it's closer to any other thing he might have said as "so he's a werewolf and I'm his because he bit me" isn't on the menu for today.

They finish breakfast and Stiles goes up to his room, while his dad leaves for work. It's nothing uncommon, John taking up two shifts, back to back, just time enough between them for him to sleep a bit.

It had been this way ever since his mom had died. John was an amazing Sheriff, and that meant he had to work a lot, and Stiles was fine with it most of the time. However, he couldn't help thinking that sometimes – just sometimes – he wished his dad was around more. Like when he was completely afraid of the relationship he seemed to be into, and he needed to just… feel him around. Have his dad near.

It was childish and stupid, but he missed that feeling of being safe when his dad was around.

He couldn't quite remember when was the last time he felt like that – and things didn't seem to be looking up any time soon.

He boots up his computer and hears his dad getting ready for work. About fifteen minutes later, when Stiles is already engrossed in some game, his dad tells him he's leaving.

"If you do go out, just let me know, okay?"

"Yeah, I will. Bye, dad!" he answers, without looking away from the screen, and John goes to work.

Not even ten minutes after his dad leaves, the doorbell rings and Stiles frowns, getting up – he's not expecting anyone.

When he gets to the door he has to contain a sigh: Jackson is on the other side, looking arrogant and irritating, and also hopeful.

"Where's your chaperone, Jackson?" Stiles says as a greeting, and Jackson rolls his eyes, getting into the house without being invited.

"Peter said Derek was letting me out. I'm not dangerous anymore. I just have to be there for the full moon and everything will be fine" he answers, looking at Stiles expectantly.

What is he supposed to do?

"Uhm… Okay. Do you want to… have something to drink?" he asks, because he doesn't know how to deal with this. There's this guy who is gorgeous but also an awful person, and he's stuck with him forever.

"No, thanks. I came here because we need to talk" Jackson says fast, as if he's trying not to lose his nerve.

Or his temper.

He doesn't seem to have much of any of them.

"Okay" Stiles agrees, "Let's go to my room, then." He gestures to the stairs, and Jackson goes in front of him.

When they get there, Stiles looks at his unmade bed and the notebook still frozen on the screen of his game. It's all messy, and he looks at Jackson for a second, expecting judgment, but the other boy doesn't say anything, just stares at him as he gets into the room and sits on his desk chair.

"I think we really should talk, anyway" he starts, because Jackson looks a bit frozen, as if he doesn't know what to do, staring at the bed and then at Stiles, "I mean, your parents came here last night, dude. And then you came here last night, and that was so not okay I can't even begin to tell you, Jackson" he says, running his hands through his barely-there hair.

"Why? Did you have plans for anyone else last night?" Jackson says, and Stiles looks at him with a bit of fear – but his eyes aren't turning blue, and he doesn't look as if he's going to wolf out. He's making a joke.

Stiles can't decide what's more upsetting.

"No…" he answers slowly, "It's just… look, none of us wanted this, okay? But we have to make this work, because I don't want you to kill me. But you have to… you have to talk to me, Jackson, because I'm lost. Your parents? Really?" he says again, and Jackson sits on the bed, looking down for a bit.

"Look, I asked them to come here and talk to your dad about the whole restraining order thing. You were the one who pointed that out to me, by the way. It's a respectful and clean way to make a good first impression on your dad, and that can only help, because he is the Sheriff, okay? Was it that bad?" he asks, looking frustrated, and Stiles snorts.

"You bet it was bad, because my dad was still firmly in the belief that I was crazy about your ex-girlfriend. And then they show up here telling him I'm in a serious relationship with you. My dad was freaking out! This morning he told me not to lead you on, because you were taking this way more seriously than I appeared to" he finishes, and it's Jackson's turn to snort.

"I am taking this way more seriously than you, because I have to. You don't."

"Because I could just tell you no and keep living my life?" Stiles asks, disbelieving, and there comes the blue eyes and the fangs again.

But Jackson breaths in deeply, and reigns himself in.

"No, you can't. I would… I would probably go feral again. That's… that's what I wanted to talk to you about, actually" he says awkwardly, and Stiles waits, because the boy seems to be gathering courage for something, "When I… Last night, you reeked of fear. Yesterday afternoon, you smelled like rejection. You're saying you're doing this, but you're not, you're afraid of me" Jackson says as if it's an accusation, and Stiles stares at him, eyebrow raised.

"That's because I am afraid of you. I have ADHD, Jackson. I also have a history of suffering from panic attacks. The day you almost died, Gerard kidnaped me and beat me so bad my dad was going out of his mind. You poisoned me twice and kept me in a pool with Derek for two hours, and I know it wasn't your fault, but you did it, and then you come into my room, you drag me to bed, and then you make it impossible for me to move. You don't get what's wrong with that? Why I would be afraid? Seriously?" he hadn't meant to say so much, especially about Gerard, but he needed Jackson to see where he was coming from.

Why this was going to be way more complicated than they both thought.

Jackson takes a deep breath and leans forward, his elbows on his knees as he stares at Stiles in the eye.

"I'm sorry" he sounds earnest and Stiles feels obligated to nod, "I didn't know any of that, but I knew there must be a reason. But the thing is, Stiles, that the more you fear me, and the more you reject me, the worse this whole control thing goes. It's not like I can turn myself off, you know? You're mine. And I do realize how wrong this sounds, and how so very primal I behave, but you keep insisting on keeping me away, and I can't take it, so I react, and now that I'm not even human anymore, when I react bad things happen, like the fangs and the eyes and the extra hair. I don't like doing it, but you…"

"If you say I make you do it I'm going to file a complaint about you as an abusive partner, Jackson, I swear to God" he says it with a small laugh, but he's not really kidding.

"It's just… hard. Every time you deny what we have I feel like I have to remind you, and that's keeping you as close as possible. And possibly losing it a bit in the process because…" he stops talking and lets out a big rush of air, as if it's painful for him to admit it, "I want you. I want all of you, and please don't take offense, but it's infuriating. I wasn't attracted to guys before, Stiles, and now all I can think about is you, and your mouth, and fucking you. And you deny me, and I get that, because we barely know each other, but it's hard not to throw you into bed and have my way with you, especially knowing you can't fight me. You can't stop me. I could do it – but I'm not, you see? I am trying."

He looks as if he actually believes that not raping Stiles is trying.

Stiles doesn't even know how to answer to that.

He runs his hands over his face instead of answering for a moment.

"Look, I get that it must be hard for you, but you saying that you basically want to rape me? That's not helping, Jackson."

"I'm trying to be honest with you."

"Well, be a little less honest, okay?"

Jackson makes an exasperated sound, getting up.

"You're impossible!"

Stiles wants to answer, but he doesn't. Seriously, what should he say? What could he say?

There's no getting out of this, there's no making this right, so what? Is he going to spend the rest of his life avoiding the guy who wants to bang him? How is he to even begin to deal with this shit?

"Look," Jackson starts, once he stops pacing and stands in front of Stiles, looking down at him, just a few steps away, "all I'm saying is… we can make this work, okay? I'm willing to try and stop being so… forceful around you, but the more you fight me, the more savage I'll get, so could you, please, just… work with me?"

Well, he said please. Stiles had never heard a please from Jackson before.

"What do you want me to do?"

Jackson smirks at him, as if he's going to give him the dirtiest answer of all times, but then he just shakes his head.

"Don't push me away, and trust me not to eat you when I get near you" he says quietly, and Stiles takes a deep breath, nodding.

"I can do that" he answers. Jackson then takes one of his hands and pulls him up gently, Stiles' heart starts racing like mad with the gesture, reminding him of last night.

"Also… can we…" Jackson starts saying quietly, just a whisper, his eyes looking at Stiles' mouth, his hand letting go of Stiles' and coming around his waist, pulling him closer? "Can we act like a couple? I want to…" he doesn't say what he wants to do, he kisses Stiles instead, and now it's clear that all the nagging about his dad eating healthily would have to be applied to him too, because his heart is trying to beat its way out of his chest.

Jackson's lips are firm against him, he is demanding and domineering, and a whole other plethora of things that Stiles isn't used to think of when he thinks of kissing. He's imagined this a thousand times before – kissing someone like this, but it was usually him doing the possessing, the invading the mouth thing, the pressing closer, the taking the initiative.

He closes his eyes slowly, and tries to respond the kiss. His lips move against Jackson's and the other teen moans quietly taking a few steps forward, making Stiles back press against a wall. Stiles fights not to open his eyes, and slowly he brings his hands to Jackson's neck, running his fingers through the other boy's hair.

Jackson hums in contentment and the kiss goes soft, careful, a caress instead of the pressing of lips of yesterday, or the desperation of the beginning of this kiss.

He pulls away and Jackson opens his eyes a bit angrily, and then Stiles moves forward and pecks him on the lips again, moving away slowly, and this seems to calm Jackson down.

"This okay, then?" Stiles asks, his voice soft. He doesn't move his arms, or tries to get away – he stays, feeling Jackson's hands on his waist and caressing his neck.

"Yeah… this is good" the blond answers, kissing his neck softly.

They stay like that for a few moments, and then Jackson looks at him, smirking a bit.

"I thought we could go out for a bit? To a movie or something?"

Stiles nods.

"Okay. I just… I have to change, and tidy up this room. Pick me up in a bit?" he asks, and Jackson nods, kissing him softly again, before moving away.

"I'm going home for a bit, be ready in an hour, ok?" he asks, already going to the door.

"Okay" Stiles answers, and Jackson looks at him, and Stiles smiles.

The blond looks reassured and leaves.

When the sound of his car disappears down the street, Stiles starts taking in big gulps of air, going to the bathroom, taking his clothes off.

He turns on the shower and steps in – tears are running down his face and he can't breathe in. The air just doesn't come. He scrubs roughly against his neck, and his mouth. He feels dirty, violated, thinking about the kiss, and the way Jackson pressed him against the door, and him kissing back, trying not to think about it, carefully regulating his breathing, knowing that panicking and pushing him away would only make things worse.

After a good ten minutes, his breathing starts to go back to normal. He turns off the shower, and puts on some jeans and a shirt he doesn't even look at.

When Jackson comes to pick him up exactly one hour after he left, Stiles greets him with a smile, and barely tenses up when the werewolf kisses him in greeting, before taking off in his Porsche.

This is his mate.

He'll have to make this work.

This so wasn't my plan for this chapter. It got away from me.

Sorry about the delay, guys! But too much work these past three days, so I couldn't write. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, though!

Let me know what you think!