Word Count: 4162
Notes: Erica isn't actually in this chapter. Sigh of all sighs.
It's not that Jackson isn't glad to be in New York to see Danny, it's just that he realized on the flight over that he'd miss Erica in the diner this week, and he hadn't even told her he would be gone. Not that he owes her any kind of explanation, but he thinks about how relieved she looked when he'd walked in late last week.
Okay, that look of relief had been subtle, but he's had four days to stew over and replay the evening, and Jackson is...overanalyzing. Too much.
The things is, he's always had a pretty good read on people. There's a reason he was popular, a reason he knew exactly where to push to make Stilinski and Scott angry, a reason he knew when Danny was upset, and, of course, a reason he knew when to just give in to Lydia's demands that they watch The Notebook. (For the last one, the answer was always.) So he knows Erica was happy to see him last week. Or...maybe not happy, but...content? Yeah.
He sighs as he picks up his duffle bag. He's halfway across the country and it's still not far enough to get her off his mind.
He texts Danny. "Got my luggage. Do I need to call a cab?"
Danny replies immediately. "I have one waiting. Come out to the greeting area."
Jackson grins, and for the first time since touching down, he feels light. He shoulders his duffle and pushes through the crowd.
Danny is leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. He looks a lot like he did in high school—relaxed and amused. When his eyes meet Jackson's, a genuine grin crosses his face and he pushes himself up.
They don't run across the airport with open arms or anything, but fast walking and a bro hug definitely happen. "Hey," Jackson says.
"Hey, man," Danny says happily. When they step apart, he says, "You're looking good. Better."
Jackson raises an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"
"You looked like shit last time I saw you," Danny says.
Jackson considers that as they walk out the doors and toward the cab Danny had hailed. "Felt like it, I guess."
"Well, you look better."
"It's all for you," Jackson says, smirking.
Danny punches his shoulder. "Shut up."
"Nah," Jackson says. He pushes Danny into the backseat of the cab.
Danny gives the driver his address, and then throws an arm around Jackson's shoulder. "So my roommate is going to be there tonight, but he's leaving in the morning for, like, Bermuda or something."
"Stan, right?" Jackson asks. "He still think you're in love with me?"
"Probably," Danny says.
"Are we trying to dislodge this idea, or..." Jackson quirks an eyebrow at him.
Danny smiles wider. "I guess that's up to you."
"How big is your bed?"
Danny laughs.
Stan isn't in the apartment when they get there, and Jackson tosses his duffle underneath Danny's bed. He flops back onto it.
"I think we can share," he says decisively.
"The other option is taking Stan's bed, so yeah," Danny says, crossing his arms. "You hungry?"
"Yes," Jackson says. He hadn't felt like eating before taking off, and the Coke he'd drunk on the plane had done the opposite of filling his stomach.
"Sushi?" Danny offers.
Jackson nods and sits up. "Tell me there's a place nearby."
Danny just shoots him a look like he should know better, and maybe he should. Since they were old enough to drive, the two of them have been driving to the only sushi place in Beacon Hills, and years apart obviously haven't changed that tradition. Last year Danny had stayed with him in Chicago for a week in June and they'd eaten sushi every night.
Though he loathes to admit it, Jackson grudgingly acknowledges that sometimes, he and Danny are just as lame as Scott and Stilinski. Except they look better doing it.
"Come on," Danny says, and Jackson follows him out of the apartment. They only walk a couple blocks before arriving at the restaurant.
"We're not eating this daily, right?" Jackson asks, but he's grinning and Danny shrugs.
The hostess takes them to a table by a window, which Jackson is grateful for because he knows this way he can put off talking about Lydia and Erica for at least the extent of the meal.
"What's good here?" Jackson asks as he browses the menu.
Danny huffs and then grins. "Everything?"
Jackson snorts and kicks him under the table. "Okay, okay."
They end up ordering six rolls to share. Jackson sips on a Coke and asks Danny about school. He tries not to think about the fact that ordering a coffee would feel like betrayal to Erica, which is so, so stupid. (He doesn't know her that well and he should be able to drink coffee whenever. It's not like anyone else would give it to him for free, anyway.)
"How's school?" Jackson asks, just because he's with Danny right then and somehow, conversations are much more enlightening when you can actually see the person's face.
"It's okay," Danny says. "Tedious, though. They give so much busy work that it's ridiculous."
"I told you not to major in something you're already the master of," Jackson says.
Danny rolls his eyes. "I need a degree in something I like," he huffs. "Computer science fits that bill." He tilts his head to the side, contemplatively, and says, "Although, I could be making money right now, and not going to school."
"Dude," Jackson says. "You know that's a bad idea." Neither of them will call what Danny is good at "hacking," but that's mostly because Danny likes to keep his past a secret in polite company.
"I know," Danny snaps. "I'm just saying. This seems really useless. I'm going to school and learning things I already know just so I can get a job that's on the right side of the law. And I'm sure I'll like my job when I have it, but right now? Right now sucks."
"Ah," Jackson says, making a mock sympathetic face. "I knew you were single."
Danny glares at him.
"Of course, you would have told me if you started dating someone, right?" Jackson says, trying to sip and frowning when he realizes he's out of Coke.
"Yes," Danny grits out. "But can you not, right now?"
"Sorry," Jackson says automatically.
Danny deflates a little. "Later, okay? Not...here."
"Of course."
Their server arrives then and sets down the sushi. She takes Jackson's glass. "You guys need anything else?" she asks.
"No, thank you," Jackson says automatically, but he barely glances at her...which only reminds him of how much attention he pays to Erica, and suddenly he wants to stab himself in the face with his chopsticks.
Instead he uses them to pick up a cut of the dragon roll, and dips it in soy sauce.
"How's school for you?" Danny asks after a few bites. "Still not playing lacrosse?"
"Nope," Jackson says. "And I think it's a good thing."
"That's cool," Danny says. He chews contemplatively for a second. "You used to really like Lacrosse," he offers.
"It's easy to like something when everyone praises you," Jackson says. "Then someone new shows up and your girlfriend makes out with him instead of you and things get...weird." And that's true—lacrosse had been fun at first, when he was still learning the ropes and just naturally excelling. But it was almost like he got too good at it. Good enough that Lydia and his parents noticed, and then it was all about being the best. Which had been fine, when he was the best. It was still good to have the entire school (the ones who cared about JV lacrosse, anyway) rooting for him.
Only then he wasn't the best any more, and things weren't so much fun after that.
He hasn't played lacrosse since leaving Beacon Hills, and the idea of starting now, not being the best—and how could he be, when he hasn't played in so long?—is actually terrifying.
"Yeah, that'll do it," Danny agrees. "But we should play a game while you're here. Just for fun. I have an extra stick."
"Just the two of us?" Jackson asks, amused.
"It'd mostly be you throwing the ball at me and me blocking it," Danny says with a shrug.
"Okay," Jackson agrees, nodding. "Okay."
Stan is back when they get to the apartment, sprawled on his bed with his laptop on his lap, head propped so he can see the screen. "'Sup?" he says as the two of them walk in.
Danny gestures to Jackson as he introduces him, and Stan nods wisely.
"He's the one you've been hung up on all month, right?" he asks.
"Uh, dude, no," Danny says grimacing. "Jackson is like my brother."
Jackson frowns at the guy, because he shouldn't know more about Danny's love life than Jackson does, living situation aside.
"Sure, whatever, man," Stan says, in a voice that clearly says he doesn't believe him.
"Jackson's not my type," Danny says, partly to prove a point to Stan, partly to tease Jackson.
And like every other time, Jackson goes with it. "I'm everyone's type," he recites, giving Stan a pointed look.
Stan flushes.
"Cut it out," Danny says. "He's straight."
"Everyone is straight until they meet me," Jackson informs Danny.
Danny looks at Stan then and shakes his head in exasperation. "Don't worry, man, he's straight, too. He won't try to seduce you."
Stan shrugs. "No big deal."
Jackson grins at him with too many teeth. "So, Bermuda, huh? Been before?"
"Nope, first time," Stan answers.
Jackson sits down on Danny's bed and stretches his arms over his head until they crack. "It's a nice place," he offers as he shakes them out.
"Cool," Stan says, and then returns his attention to his computer.
Danny sits next to Jackson. "Do you want to shower? I know you hate the traveling part of traveling."
"Do not," Jackson says petulantly. But he huffs out half a laugh when Danny shoves him over. "Yeah, yeah, I'll shower." He heads over to the tiny bathroom and says, "You got a towel I can borrow?"
"Blue ones are mine," Danny answers. He's digging under his bed and pulls out his laptop. "And I still used the same shampoo and stuff."
"Thanks," Jackson says, and shuts the bathroom door.
The next morning Jackson wakes up tucked closely to Danny. It'd be awkward if they hadn't been doing it forever. He sits up.
Stan is awake, moving around quietly. "Did I wake you?" he mumbles.
Jackson shakes his head. "You're good," he says, yawning. "Gonna piss." He stumbles out of bed and into the bathroom.
When he comes back, Stan's hand is on the doorknob, but he's paused, face contemplative. "You know, if I was going to go gay for someone, it'd be Danny," he tells Jackson.
Jackson nods and offers half a smile. "Me too."
"I know he's not in love with you," Stan says, opening the door. "I was just messing with him. Although the fact that you were practically spooning him this morning would not convince any one else."
Jackson rolls his eyes. "Danny and I have been best friends since we were in diapers," he explains. "Our parents were always close."
Stan smiles at that. "Tell him I said 'Bye,'" he says, and then he's gone.
Jackson falls asleep after that.
Later, when they're both awake and after they've eaten, Danny tosses Jackson a stick and says, "Let's go to the park."
"Central Park?" Jackson asks, and yeah, he's a little excited. He's never actually been to New York City before, and the prospect of playing lacrosse in Central Park is actually really cool. In fact it's the most excited he's been about playing lacrosse since...well, since Scott had been bitten.
"Sure," Danny says. "It's not too far."
"Not too far" translates into "something like a mile and a half," apparently, but Jackson doesn't really mind. Being in a new place and being with Danny are making him pretty buoyant, so he's still relaxed when they finally arrive.
They toss the ball back and forth a couple times, Jackson trying to get it past Danny and Danny trying to block it. Jackson does his best not to use the werewolf advantage, but it's not like he has the greatest control. He's okay during the full moon and hasn't gone on rampages or anything, but other than that, he's not really there.
After a while, that gets boring. Most of the fun in lacrosse comes from dodging people and sprinting across the field, at least from Jackson's point of view. Danny had always preferred playing goalie which was a lot more stationary. Still, it had been nice, just tossing the ball around.
The two of them sit down on the grass, lacrosse sticks behind them.
"So, you want to talk about Lydia?" Danny asks at last. He's playing with the grass in front of him.
Jackson really appreciates that Danny isn't staring at him. It makes this conversation a lot easier. "Lydia," he mumbles. "Yeah. It's just...a lot of things, man." He doesn't know where to start.
"Sophomore year you broke up with her," Danny says carefully. "I thought you were stupid, but I understood it. You wanted to figure out what was going on with Scott and that took precedence."
He hates the way that sounds, like he ranked Lydia as #2, after the whole thing with the werewolves. But that's how it had been. "That was kind of the beginning of the end, wasn't it?" he says softly. "Lydia is...a thousand different things, you know? I don't think she acted the same around any two people."
"No," Danny agrees. "She did not."
"It's not like I don't understand that, you know?" Jackson says. "But Lydia, to me, was manic and pushy and demanding as much as she was gentle and loving. And that was fine, but she expected so much and it got to the point where I felt like I couldn't deliver."
Danny does look at him now, forehead wrinkled. "But...right before you left for Pleasantville, Lydia thought you two were getting back together," Danny says. "But it sounds like you hadn't loved her for longer than that."
"No," Jackson says immediately. "I did love her. I do. I don't think it's possible not to, you know? She's everything I should want." He hesitates, and now it's him playing with the grass. "But, it's not enough. It wasn't enough for me to stay there, not even for her."
This isn't a good conversation. Jackson can feel the anxiety twisting his stomach and curling into his lungs.
Danny wraps an arm around Jackson, grounding him for a minute. "Hey, you don't have to talk about what happened," he says gently.
And the thing is—the thing is, Danny doesn't know what happened. He doesn't know why Jackson was declared dead only to rise up again. Jackson never told him, could never tell him, still feels like he can't. He can't tell him why he was so messed up during the Kanima time. Part of it is because the last time Jackson tried to think about it in full, he nearly had a panic attack. The other part is that he doesn't want Danny involved in werewolf messes. He doesn't want to be involved in them, honestly. And now that he has the powers, he can hardly remember why he wanted them so much. Sure, he's stronger and faster, plus he can eat whatever he wants, but when he considers the journey to this point, the bite has only caused more problems than it's solved.
He realizes how tense he is when Danny starts rubbing his shoulders. "Dude," he says. "I'm sorry. You don't have to talk about any of this. Just try and stay with me, okay?"
"Sorry," Jackson chokes out. "I didn't...mean to." He tries to breathe normally, and is marginally successful.
For a couple minutes, they're both quiet. Finally, Danny breaks the silence. "We could talk about something else," he suggests.
"No," Jackson says. "I should tell you about Lydia."
"Okay," Danny says. "What did you mean by it wasn't enough?"
"It's like I said," Jackson says, shutting his eyes. "She wants so much out of the world, and I'm sure she'll get everything she wants. But it just got to the point that I couldn't make myself give her that any more. She was always so high-maintenance."
"To be fair," Danny says, "You are, too."
Jackson chuckles. "Yeah. But maybe two high-maintenance people shouldn't date."
"Nah, you two really worked well together, when things were still...good."
"Doesn't everyone?" Jackson says.
"Yeah," Danny says, shrugging. "But you two more than most. It's why I kept pushing it. Which...sorry, by the way."
Jackson waved a hand half-heartedly. "Nah, man. It's okay. It's not like I told you before now."
"Well that's true," Danny says. "But am I right in assuming that whatever happened that night on the lacrosse field solidified the end?"
"it was so much more than that," Jackson says without thinking. As soon as his brain catches up, he regrets it, because he has no way to explain being a green rage monster under the control of madmen. No way to explain that all those deaths were his fault—not his fault, not really, but it never seemed to feel that way. He swallows.
Danny doesn't speak, clearly waiting.
"I don't think...coming back from the dead is so much different than I ever thought it would be," Jackson says. A high-pitched, nervous laugh slips out before he can contain it. "But I was so sick that whole...month. I didn't understand what was happening until it was too late and she—Lydia, she was there when I woke up again. I wasn't physically sick any more, but mentally...I kept waking up terrified and guilty. It's like being in Beacon Hills was too much for me to handle, so...I left."
Danny's eyes are wide and he says quickly, "It's okay, Jackson."
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Jackson demands. He's half-afraid that he's shifted without meaning to.
"You're panicking," Danny explains. "You need to calm down. Tell me about something else."
"I really hate my economics class," Jackson says, because it's the first thing he can think of.
Danny laughs a little. "Why?"
"Teacher sucks, subject sucks, it's dumb, who needs it?"
"Economists?" Danny suggests.
"Yeah," Jackson agrees, smiling half-heartedly. "Guess they do."
They spend the next few days ignoring the elephant in the room. Instead, they play video games at night, go jogging in the mornings, eat sushi for lunch daily, and talk about light-hearted things.
Jackson decides to push his luck the fourth day he's there, while they're playing Resident Evil. "So who's the guy you're pining over?"
"I'm not pining," Danny says firmly, and takes out a zombie. "I just happen to find him attractive."
"Danny, you have the best game out of any one I know," Jackson says. "Why haven't you convinced him to go out with you yet?"
Danny shrugs. "He doesn't seem interested. I don't think I'm his type."
"Dude, you are everyone's type," Jackson says, grinning.
Danny pauses the game to tackle him.
"So when are you going to tell me about the new girl?" Danny asks at lunch.
"Uh," Jackson says. "When we go back to your apartment, maybe."
Danny rolls his eyes. "Are you embarrassed or something?"
"Not...exactly," Jackson mutters. "It's just complicated."
"You're totally embarrassed," Danny says. "That's adorable."
Jackson makes a face at him. "Shut up and eat your sushi."
Danny keeps chuckling after that, every time he catches a glimpse of Jackson's pout. "I'm only getting more interested," he says as they walk out of the restaurant later. "I hope you aren't going to say something lame like being in love with another pre-law student who isn't as pretty as you."
"Not in love, and no one is as pretty as me," Jackson snaps.
"Huh," Danny says, unlocking the door to the apartment. "Whatever you say." After shutting the door, he rounds on Jackson. "Spill," he says.
How do you tell your best friend that you were crushing on a dead girl? "You remember Erica Reyes?" Jackson blurts. He thinks maybe Danny won't remember for a second, because it's not like they'd run in remotely the same social circle. People only knew who Erica was because of the seizures, and then because of the corsets. Danny had never been interested in bullying anyone, and girls in corsets obviously weren't that interesting to him.
"Yeah," Danny says, eyebrows drawing together. "But isn't she dead?"
"Apparently not," Jackson says, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"And you like her," Danny says. He sounds delighted and Jackson feels his face burn.
"Ugh, shouldn't have told you," he says covering his face.
"Is she still dressing like she did toward the end?" Danny asks.
Jackson opens his mouth to respond, and then stops. "I don't actually know. I only see her where she works."
"Where's that?"
"Some diner," Jackson says.
"Dude," Danny chokes out, gaping at him. "Do you eat there all the time just to see her?"
"I don't eat there all the time," Jackson says defensively.
"But you go just to see her. Dude."
"Shut up," Jackson says, rolling his eyes.
"Sorry, sorry," Danny says, sighing. "But she likes you, too, right?"
Jackson shrugs. "Maybe."
"I thought you were everyone's type," Danny says.
Jackson looks up at him with a vicious grin on his face. "Oh, yeah. Forgot." Then they're behaving like twelve year olds again and wrestling.
It's surprisingly easy to control himself around Danny, and Jackson wonders if his anchor has been his best friend all along. It just sucks that he's halfway across the country from him.
When Jackson finally pins Danny, he says, "You can't tell any one she's alive, by the way."
"I figured," Danny says, shrugging. He shifts until Jackson rolls off of him and they both sit up. "But can I meet her?"
"Uh," Jackson says, blanking for a second. "I'll ask her, next time you come to Chicago."
"Cool," Danny says.
Later that night, Jackson gets a text from Scott. "You aren't in Chicago," it reads, and Jackson panics. He didn't think—he should have realized—Spring Break is the perfect time for one of Scott or Isaac's random visits. It's not like Derek can't afford to ship his betas halfway across America. That is something they share: living on the life insurance policies of dead family members.
Only Jackson has an extra set of parents and Derek has a half-insane uncle.
Right now, all Jackson can think about is Erica working in a place that's covered in his scent. It's tough to track people in big cities but then, he's been there so often. With shaky fingers, he types out, "In NY visiting Danny."
Scott replies after a couple minutes. "Crashing in your apartment tonight. Plane leaves tomorrow. You doing okay?"
"Yes," Jackson sends back immediately. "Not that it's your business," he adds quickly, because if he's not snarking, Scott might notice something wrong.
"Dude i'd rather be hanging out with Stiles and Isaac. It was Derek's idea," Scott answers.
Of course it was. "Don't leave a mess," he texts, and rolls over to fall asleep.
In the morning, he reads Scott's replies. "I won't." and then from earlier this morning, "Why don't you have any food?"
"I'm not feeding you. Get out of my apartment," he texts, irritated.
Scott texts back, "yeah okay. Leaving in an hour, anyway. Probably good. Chicago is messing with my head."
Jackson wants to ask why, because it has a huge chance of being about Erica. What if he crossed paths with her? Jackson realizes abruptly that he has no idea if she leaves near his apartment and if that might have been an issue.
But would it be weird for him to ask? He hems and haws for a couple minutes before deciding to go for it. "Okay, what do you mean?"
"Thought I saw someone I knew," Scott texts back.
Jackson swears softly and presses his face into the pillow. "Wasn't them?" he texts hopefully.
"Nah. But it kind of killed my good mood. Gotta get out of here."
"You do that," Jackson replies. Seems like for now, the crisis was averted. Still, he doesn't breathe easy until the hour leading up to Scott's has passed and he hasn't received any more text messages.
He doesn't want Erica to be found, and he's not sure how much of it is wanting to keep her for himself and how much of it is because she doesn't want to be found. It's both, he thinks, but as to the ratio...he hasn't a clue.
A/N: I'm going to quit guessing how long this will end up being.