Jackson was cold, tired. His muscles were sore and his throat felt as if he had eaten dirt and the sand and rocks tore all the flesh off his esophagus. He tried to move but he was stiff and so tired. There was no light, so he waited, and shut his eyes. When he opened them again the sun was starting to peck over the mountains in the east, the trees let few strips of light through to the forest floor. But in the morning haze Jackson was able to look at his hands and they were covered in blood. He jerked into a sitting position and could see that his entire body was covered in blood, drying and sticky, coating his body like a familiar coat that left him heaving but not puking. His stomach cramped and cramped but nothing came out. He coughed and licked his lips and on them he could taste the salty sultry taste of drying blood, it was something new but not entirely foreign and rather than making him gag it left him hungry.
He stood and he was naked in some clearing inside the woods, someplace he didn't recognize. His body was painted in red, some areas slick others drying and sticky and right were he was lying was the corpse of a mountain lion stripped of all its flesh expect for the head, the head was left intact, its maw and eyes open in a silent violent roar it never got to release before its life was ripped out of its stomach.
Jackson was shivering, confused, and frightened. But the pain…the pain was gone. His body was whole and covered in blood but the pain was gone and with it his life for the past three months, he didn't know what to do, his life was over, he collapsed and cried, deep sobs that were torn from the dark hidden place, the place he kept where no one could see it. That place was the only thing left now. With the pain gone he had no excuses to live any longer…but he would, the pain didn't kill him, losing it won't either.
He stood and spun in a circle until finally deciding on a direction and stumbling that way. He was lucky, he found his blanket, which he wrapped around himself, picked up his backpack. He hiked back and found his house pretty easily. No one was home he just walked in through the back door and up into his room.
After the long night spent in the Hale house living room with Allison, Stiles was ready to go. Neither of them could sleep, they were too distracted by their thoughts and Stiles was so worked up he was ready to fall apart. He didn't wait for the Were's to come home from their run, he was angry, he was confused, and now he was also scared, so fuck them. He got up, made himself and Allison breakfast and then left, Allison watched with a confused look on her face wondering what was wrong, but her worry for Scott outweighed any worry she had for Stiles.
Stiles was fed up with every one of his friends and so decided to take matters into his own hands. He drove to the Whittemore household and noticed that only Jackson's car was in the drive way. He parked and ran to the front door and slammed his knuckles against it. It hurt, but made a satisfying loud knock. He waited but no one came so he made his way around to the back of the house, he tried the knob and it turned.
He slowly walked into the Whittemore kitchen which looked like something out of a magazine, a mix of classic design with industrial lines, it was beautiful and sparse, and shone like it had been recently cleaned. He walked towards the front and up some stairs. He knew Jackson's room was on the second floor. He could hear small quite whimpers coming from behind one of the doors. He pushed it in, slowly, and it opened into Jackson's room. It was bare. A desk, a bed, a television, and a laptop, it reminded Stiles of a military barracks. On the bed he could see Jackson with the sheets over his head and he was shivering and whimpering…Stiles was scared. He walked towards him and slowly peeled the blankets off of Jackson and jumped back slightly. He was covered in blood. Stiles realized he was trembling and took deep calming breaths. He reached out and shook Jackson who slowly slit his eyes open.
"Hey," said Stiles quietly watching Jackson face trying not to look too queasy after noticing Jackson's mouth covered in blood. He didn't know how he was going to react maybe punch him, or yell at him.
"Hey," is all Jackson said before laying his head back onto the pillow, he wasn't sure if he was dreaming or not, but if he wasn't, he didn't really care, he was so tired and sore he just wanted to rest, even if Stiles thought he was an axe murderer.
"Hey," repeated Stiles, "we…we should probably get you cleaned up huh, before someone…you know, before your parents get home,"
"Right…"
"I'm just going to-you know…" Stiles slowly pulled the blanket completely off of Jackson doing his best to pretend he wasn't naked, this wasn't new, 'you've seen him in the shower…not that you were looking!'
Stiles reached down and after much maneuvering, was able to lift Jackson's heavy and giant body off of the bed. With help from Jackson he was able to make his way to the bathroom where he let Jackson sit on the toilet while Stiles filled up a giant tub with warm water. Steam rose off the water and warmed the room, making Stiles feel even hotter and more aware of what he was doing. He lifted Jackson and slowly walked him to the tub.
"You're going to have to lift you leg…"
"I-I…I can't," Jackson tried but he was too tired, too weak.
"I know, sit on the edge and then slowly turn till your facing the inside," Stiles watched as Jackson slowly turned his lower body and then helped him lift his legs over the edge of the tub, completely ignoring any part of Jackson's body that was sudden right there in front of his face. He then helped Jackson slowly lower the rest of his body into the tub. He hissed the entire way down but didn't complain.
They both just waited and let Jackson get used to the water and let him build up a bit more energy. Stiles didn't know what he was going to happen when he came over but this was so far off the reservation he could never have imagined ending up in the bathroom with a naked Jackson. His life was surreal.
He kneeled by the tub and found some body wash. He knew this was a bad idea, he knew there was no going back, but he squirted the soap into has palm and proceeded to clean Jackson's chiseled body….His life was so surreal.
He started with his shoulders, rubbed the soap into them like he was giving him a soft massage, Jackson bit is lips and held onto the moan attempting to claw its way out of his mouth. Stiles continued down his shoulders to his chest and rubbed them until the dried blood finally melted off. He ran his hands down Jackson's abs and around his ribs watching the water grow murky with blood and dirt. He ran has hands further down Jackson's abs until he had to pull them away having felt the thick thatch of Jackson pubes, and that was something he was going to let Jackson clean himself. He tried hard to suppress the blush but it crept up his checks regardless. Jackson was breathing heavily and had his eyes were closed and Stiles was trying hard not to read too much into that.
"Move a bit forward let me get your back," Stiles decided to finish his legs later, if he could swallow down the embarrassment and the confusing turn of his stomach. He moved to the head of the tub behind Jackson, and started rubbing more body wash down Jackson's back feeling all the notches in his spine. Jackson couldn't help it now, it felt too good, and he let a small breathy little groan, which stilled Stiles' hand.
"Am I hurting you…?"
"No, it…it feels good," said Jackson honestly, he didn't think he could even come up with a lie if he tried. Stiles wasn't expecting that answer and could feel his hands start to tremble. He ran his hands down Jackson's back and didn't pull them away till the felt the round curve of Jackson's ass. He went back to the other end and started on Jackson's feet eliciting another moan from gored up youth. He was cleaning his feet up to his calf, behind his knee and up part way up his thigh, until he came too close to Jackson's….Jackson. He started on the other leg with the foot, up and around the calf, and behind the knee, Jackson giggled here.
"Sorry," he said, "it tickled…" Jackson's face was just as red as Stiles' but he had a small smile curving up the edges of his mouth. Stiles couldn't help it, neither could Jackson, they both laughed until they were left gasping for breath and trembling.
"I think you're done," said Stiles looking up at Jackson, taking in the boy's body. It was a patch work of bruises, cuts, and deep gouges. There on his side was the infamous bite mark, the dud. Stiles didn't know what to think, he never thought that this was Jackson's home life, he never thought that this was anyone's home life. While it didn't excuse Jackson's old behavior, it certainly shed some light on it.
"While you finish cleaning….other places, why don't you tell me why you were covered in blood,"
"I…I-I-don't really remember, I was in the woods, and then…then I woke up and I was naked covered in blood…" Jackson took a stuttering breath, he wasn't sure he wanted to remember but he could feel something stirring in the back of his mind, like the taste of the mountain lions entrails, and then rich potent taste of blood as it gushed down his throat sating a thirst he never knew existed. He remembers running through the woods wild and free, leaping off of the trees with his clawed paws and the thrill of the hunt when he caught whiff of his prey.
He leaned over the tub away from Stiles and dry heaved feeling like all the bones, marrow, intestine, and flesh he had stripped off the mountain lions corpse was going to come shooting out his mouth. All that came out was bile, he coughed and spluttered and the whole time Stiles was rubbing his back, and slowly he could feel himself calming down.
"Here," Stiles grabbed Jackson underneath his arm pits and hauled him up until he was standing. He handed him a towel and slowly helped him out of the tub. He grabbed another towel and helped Jackson dry himself, pointedly ignoring the other boys face, and trying to be gentle when passing over his wounds. Stiles led Jackson back to his room, and sat him on his bed. Jackson told him were to find some sweats and helped him into them, again, avoiding seeing anything more…intimate.
"So…where…where did you get those bruises?"
"I don't know," answered Jackson quickly, he didn't need anyone to know about that. It didn't matter how old he was, how much he had grown, he will always see his father as the man with all the power. Like all those years ago when he was young and stepped out of line, he was always there to beat him back on it and he didn't want anyone to know how truly weak he was, how fear of being abandoned again kept him from seeking help…his father knew that too. Stiles just looked at Jackson and Jackson knew he knew. Jackson turned away no being able to stand the look.
"Hey…I-I-I…I know I'm probably the last person you want…I mean…if you ever just want to talk…God," Stiles took a deep breath, he was nervous sitting here seeing the way Jackson's face just fell when he mentioned the bruises made Stiles feel…It made him want to do something about it, so he talked. He talked about the pack coming here two days ago, what they heard…what they saw. He talked about being at the Hale house for the first time on a full moon and the strange nervous energy coursing through the Were's, he talked about that frightening animal scream that kept him up all night at the Hale house.
While he talked he just stared at Jackson's face, saw him take deep breaths, and then screw his eyes shut and turn away. Jackson couldn't bare having Stiles look at him, see him weak like this, without the pain he had no distractions, no way of distracting people from his own internal pit of despair. He couldn't bare to know that Stiles could see him, see it, see how empty he was, there was no way anyone could look and not feel disgusted. He closed his eyes as hard as he could, but even that couldn't keep him from crying.
Stiles just watched Jackson break apart in front of him watched the tears slide down his face, watched as he twisted his body away from him, not wanting him to see, saw the way his shoulders shook. Stiles walked to the bed and sat next to Jackson, he brought a shaking hand up to the back of Jackson neck and pushed Jackson's head into his neck and wrapped his other arm around him. They sat like that, Jackson's head in the crook of his neck and Stiles' arm around him. Stiles felt a shuttle shift inside him and soon realized that he was crying and shaking and soon he was sobbing. Jackson twisted his body around and wrapped his arms around Stiles and squeezed.
They both held each other and cried and Jackson couldn't help think how utterly ridiculous this whole situation was, how….surreal. He never would have imagined that the person that would see him having an emotional break down was going to be Stiles. The ridiculousness of the situation wrenched a strange sob out of his throat and he soon realized that he was laughing, Stiles started too. They both held each other cried and laughed and squeezed their bodies as close to each other as they could. Jackson dragged Stiles on top of himself till they were both laying flat on his bed and they cried and they laughed, it was...cathartic. They drifted into sleep, Stiles on top of Jackson, Jackson with his head buried into Stiles' neck.