Word Count: 3101
Notes: In this chapter Jackson reminds us all that he's not a nice person. But then it's mostly fluffy.
Jackson has a plan.
(Not that planning things out is anything new. He's known since he was six that he was going to be a lawyer, because that's what his dad was. The only time that changed was the first two years of high school, briefly after he found out that he was adopted. Why his parents had waited so long to tell him, he couldn't be sure. So from the time he found out he didn't belong until the time he was reborn as a werewolf, he was pretty uninterested in emulating his adoptive father. That's when he told his then-new girlfriend Lydia that he wanted to play lacrosse professionally, and that's when the downward spiral had started.
He's not sure if he's ever come out of that spiral, but being in Chicago does seem to help. He's not sure if that's because he has breathing room now, or if it's the change in scenery, or even the change of adding Erica to his life in a...new way. Challenges, he's discovered, are the only things that actually make life seem good, sometimes. Like finding out what was going out with Scott in tenth grade, or finding out what douchebag had broken Danny's heart when he came back to Beacon Hills during vacation from the boarding school.)
Plans always seem to make things simpler, easier to accomplish. If Jackson can list things out in his head, he knows he can do it.
Pushing Scott back in tenth grade was simple, and having the plan made it better. He could literally list off what he was planning. It made it worse for Scott, and sometimes Jackson thinks back to the look on Scott's face when he told her he was going to take Allison and make her scream his name and he feels that same sick rush of power.
Sometimes that makes him feel tired, though. It's not fun to relive the glory days when, even in his head, they never felt very glorious.
Anyway, the current plan has nothing to do with torment (not that he'd be above that if he thought it would work) and everything to do with being nice.
The thing about understanding people and their motivations is that it makes it possible for him to manipulate them easily enough. His parents were the easiest, of course. After the initial shock (that had lasted nearly two years), he'd gotten over himself and told his parents he was sorry and that he loved them. That made it a lot easier to convince them to let him leave. Now when he says it, they wire more money to his account, as if the life insurance settlement hadn't been enough. Not that he's complaining.
Manipulating Danny is harder and easier all at once. Harder because he doesn't like to unless Danny will benefit from it, and easier because he knows exactly which buttons to push. All it takes is goading and compliments mixed into teasing, and suddenly Danny is willing to be a lot more overt in his flirting and Jackson gets more information about the guys Danny is into.
Of course, Danny manipulates him right back, which is why, for the last four years, there's been a Lydia-shaped thorn in his side. It's getting worse, and he knows it's only a matter of time before he takes care of it.
The people he usually manipulates are easy to read and easy to understand. Erica presents a little bit more of a challenge because he doesn't know enough about her to know where her buttons are even located, let alone which to push. So phase one of the plan is find the buttons, and the rest, he figures, will fall in place.
Including what the endgame is, because at the moment, he's not really sure what he wants from her. It could be sex, but it's more than that, because he has plenty of friends at the college who are already willing. He's not sure Erica has something to offer on that front besides werewolf stamina and really great breasts.
That's not what he wants, and the thought seems almost strange. He's aware that he's supposed to want it, and to be fair, he wouldn't say no. Not by a long shot. But he hasn't been thinking about her and sex in the same space.
No, she's a mystery he intends to solve, a code he needs to translate. Understanding her might be what he wants in the end, and if making out happens at some point? He won't be upset.
He thinks she's probably pretty decent at kissing. She's probably the type to bite and pull hair. The idea appeals to him more than is really good, considering he's in class at the moment. He thinks about Scott's stupid crooked jaw to calm himself down.
He's supposed to go to the diner today, but he has a group presentation due in his history class. He was lucky enough to pair up with one of the friends he mentioned to Erica, but the only night Eli has free is tonight, so they have to get it all done.
If he's lucky, he'll convince Eli to go to the diner with him. If not, he'll go tomorrow and hope she's there.
He needs to find out her schedule. Or her number. Something.
Anyway, he and Eli are starting at the library. It quickly becomes clear that Eli is more of a perfectionist than he is, and that preparing a project on Betsy Ross is going to take more time than he had initially thought.
"Hey, look," Eli says about an hour into the study session. "I found a virtual tour of Betsy's house."
Jackson grunts his approval and keeps taking notes. Eli is a nice enough guy, but a little bit too into philosophy for Jackson to really like him. It's not like with Danny, who might like things Jackson doesn't, and vice versa, but shared so many common interests that it wasn't hard to hang out.
It's not that Jackson dislikes Eli, even, or is particularly bothered by Eli liking philosophy and Betsy Ross (of all the historical women he could have picked to have a crush on—seriously?). Eli is actually an okay guy. They both dislike football but vaguely support the Patriots and whoever people predict will win the Super Bowl. And they share an interest in sports movies with predictable endings, so they have things to talk about.
It's just...he's in the library learning about how Betsy Ross taught George Washington how to cut a five pointed star with one snip of her scissors and not flirting over coffee and a decent burger.
He seriously wants some pie.
(Well. You know.)
Two hours later, Jackson compiles the information into a Powerpoint while Eli keeps writing down new facts. He's thinking he might be able to get there really late, if they continue at this pace.
It doesn't change the fact that he has other homework due tomorrow, but at least most of that is readings, and if he skimps on them, he can probably get by without contributing to the discussion (because he hates David Hume and his teacher should feel bad for making him read that). Plus he could read it at the diner.
"Dude!" Eli exclaims suddenly. "Did you put down that Betsy could cut out a five pointed star with one snip?"
"I honestly have no idea what that means," Jackson informs him, but adds it to a slide anyway.
Eli continues researching happily while Jackson considers clawing his face off. Unfortunately, he didn't know if limb regeneration was a thing for werewolves. He doesn't want to risk his face for that.
Four hours later, he tells Eli good bye and hurries to the diner. It's late, almost as late as the time they shared the pie. A repeat performance of that would be okay with him, he thinks, and he might be crossing his fingers for that. Only not really, because Jackson is not nine years old.
He slides into the diner hoping Erica didn't get off shift early or anything like that, because he actually can't stomach the idea of missing her again so soon.
But no, there she is, standing at the table of a trucker and smiling easily. The smile looks fake from where he's standing, but it doesn't matter. She's so beautiful.
He catches his breath at that thought, because while it's always been true, he's shied away from the word. He knows there are people who think there's no difference between calling a girl sexy or hot instead of beautiful, but he's not stupid; he knows there is.
He can't get away with thinking of her as hot any more, not when he's seeing her like this.
He swallows and forces himself across the diner to sit down at the table. He knows what he wants, apparently. He wants to be with her all the time, maybe.
Yeah.
She approaches his booth with a grin. "Howdy," she says. "Thought you got lost in New York again."
"Nah," he says. "School project."
"Fun," she says. "What can I get you?"
"The usual," he says.
"All of it?"
"Yep," he answers.
"Okay," she says, and leaves him at the table, feeling a little breathless.
Damn. He pulls out An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding and starts reading.
He's not absorbing anything about cause and effect though (and only part of that is because it's boring as hell). He keeps staring at Erica drifting around the restaurant until she returns with his coffee.
"You see something you like?" she asks in exasperation while she pours his coffee.
"You, I guess," he tells her with a broad grin.
It catches her off guard, like maybe she was surprised he'd been so up front about it. She blinks at him owlishly and then a slow grin crosses her face. "You're getting bolder, Jackson."
He could listen to her say his name all day.
"I do have to wonder why, though," she continues, setting the coffee down. "You've said you don't want an alpha, you're obviously not looking to cull favor with Derek, and you must know that Lydia is waiting for you."
"How do you know that?" he asks, caught on the bit about Lydia.
"Lucky guess," she says with a shrug.
He shakes his head right away. "It doesn't matter, though. I'm not interested in Lydia." He pauses, glances at her mouth, and then carefully back at her eyes. "Is it really so hard to believe that I just like you? No dark motives."
"Yes," she says bluntly. She presses her palms into the table and leans across it until they're on the same eye level. "Because people don't like me. They just tolerate me."
"People are stupid," he says, rolling his eyes. "I think we both know that." He moves his hand across the table until it's touching hers and raises an eyebrow.
She leans back and pulls her hands away. "I'm not going to be a girl you hook up with once and ditch, Jackson."
His name again. Jeez. "Who said anything about hooking up? If I wanted easy sex you're not the person I'd ask. I know plenty of girls I could just pick up." And that's true. It's not like his face doesn't make things easy on that front. Plus it's remarkably easy to chat up girls (well, a certain type of girl. He doesn't think Erica falls into that category).
"So why are you here? Hmm? Because it can't be getting any easier," she says lowly.
"Because I like you. Remember?" He's thinking about the night he told her he wanted her to like him, and it must have been clear then.
"Like me how?" she asks, but then turns like she's heard something. "I'll let you think about that for a minute. I have to go do my job." She walks swiftly to another table, refills their coffee, and disappears into the kitchen.
He drinks his mug of coffee and reads the same paragraph five times while he waits for her to come back. He needs her to understand that this has never been about sex, although she's certainly attractive enough for it. It started out as a mystery and now it's an adventure. And he genuinely likes her. As a friend and then some.
Erica doesn't come back to the booth until his food is ready, perhaps seeking to minimalize their contact. But he's not going to let that happen if he can help it. As she sets the food in front of him, he starts talking.
"Erica, you're gorgeous but you have to know that's not why I like you," he begins.
She tilts her head but gestures for him to continue.
He releases a sigh and nods. "You're funny, you know? And having you here is like having a piece of home with me, only not annoying."
She snorts at that and shakes her head. "So I make you laugh and I'm not annoying," she says, looking unimpressed.
"You forgot beautiful," he says cheekily. "But seriously, seeing you is usually the highlight of my week, you know? You're...interesting."
"You seem so awkward right now," she coos. "Very well; you passed the test. For now."
"The problem is that I just don't know enough about you," he says. "Maybe that's my real angle."
"Finding out where I got the red eyes?" she asks, amused. There's a sharp edge, though, and he thinks this is another test.
"Admittedly, yes," he says, shrugging. "But other things, too. Like what you did when you spent that year as a wolf and how you ended up working here. Little things."
"Little things," she repeats doubtfully.
"Yeah," he says, looking straight into her eyes.
"You don't want to bang me?" she checks.
"Not unless you want to," he says with a shrug.
"Hmm," she says, tapping her chin. "I guess we'll see."
She walks away after that, but he's already feeling victorious. He takes his time eating, hoping she'll come back to check on him.
She doesn't until he's finishing his burger, but she's smiling again, so he figures he's not in trouble. "If I stay really late, will you eat pie with me again?" he asks teasingly.
"I could probably do that," she says, ducking her head. She looks back up at him through her lashes after that, and he feels relieved. She has to feel at least sort of the same, because she keeps forgiving him.
So he hangs out, eating his fries as slowly as possible while he finishes his assigned reading. When he's the last customer, she approaches the table with a boxed pie and her jacket already on. "You got a roommate?" she asks.
"No," he says, eyeing the pie with interest.
"Invite me over," she says, grinning. "Not for sex. For pie."
"You got the whipped cream?" he asks.
She nods and he smirks.
"Just as good as sex then."
She snorts. "Right. Well, let's pay your bill and then leave, yeah? I think we made the busboy mad last time."
"Busboys," he says dismissively, waving a hand.
She sighs. "Come on, doofus."
"So what do you even like to do?" he asks when they're comfortably seated on his living room floor.
"I used to knit," she says. "And cook."
"Seriously?" he asks. "Knitting?"
Erica rolls her eyes. "Don't be a douche. Yeah. Knitting was always nice, calming...Good for time spent recuperating in the hospital." She sounds bitter about that, but then, that's to be expected.
"Why'd you quit?" he asks, because commenting on anything else seems particularly douchetastic.
Still, she looks kind of sad. "I guess I don't have much time. Or money. I mean, I work full time at the diner, but I don't even have a GED. Chicago isn't cheap to live in, you know? I barely make rent with my paycheck." She cuts her eyes at him over the pie and grins a little. "Your tips help, though."
He shrugs. "It's nothing."
"Yeah, I know," she sighs. "My dad worked your case."
Awkward. He grimaces but nods. He makes the executive decision not to say anything, because anything he says now will be cruel and deflective, so instead he takes a big bite of pie.
"What about you?" she asks, obviously sensing that she's hit a nerve. "Still play lacrosse?"
"Not really," he says. "I tossed a ball around with Danny in New York, but I don't really get the opportunity to play it casually here. And I'm not joining the team."
"Yeah, I think you mentioned that," she says. "You just grow up or something?"
"Or something," he confirms.
The keep talking like this, and Jackson learns that Erica's favorite color is sea foam green but she likes wearing darker colors than that, that she really likes the newest album Muse put out, and that she goes jogging before going into work. Also, she's ticklish, but only in one spot that she refuses to reveal. He's biding his time to find out that answer.
"One last thing," she says as she puts her plate in the sink. "I killed Aiden."
The name doesn't mean much to him, and he tells her as much.
"One of the twins in the alpha pack," she says softly. "It was to help Boyd escape, but I think he thought...that Aiden killed me."
Oh. Oh. "And that's why they think you're dead," he says.
"Yeah."
"You could go home," he suggests. "The alpha pack is gone and Derek would welcome you back."
"You could go home, too," she reminds him.
Jackson shakes his head. "Nah."
She grins. "Exactly. Nah." She's quiet for a moment, hands bunched up in the sleeves of her jacket, with a small smile. "I have work early in the morning."
"What's your schedule?" he asks, coming to lean against the counter next to her. "In case I have to miss a Wednesday or something."
She ducks her head, maybe trying to hide a smile. "I'll write it down for you. It basically stays the same every week."
He grabs a notepad and hands it to her with pen. She scrawls it down, and as she leaves, he realizes that she's left a phone number, too. "Don't text too much," she wrote. "I only have 200 minutes."
Still, he saves the number into his phone and tacks her schedule up on the fridge.
This was a good night, he thinks, and when he falls into bed, he's still smiling.
A/N: Aw look they're starting to get to know each other. And even though Jackson's motivations aren't necessarily pure, I think we learned a lot about him here...I know I did. And he seems okay.
So this took about as long as it did last time and I am sorry that I can't write more often. I blame school. But! I did a bunch of really short prompts on tumblr (check me out, neverendingpaintrain yo) that I can upload for you guys? Like more than 20! See. I've been writing every day. But those were five sentences each and this is...3k words. So?
Anyway you can always send me prompts. :)