The next morning, Stiles drove to the hospital to see Lydia. He went everyday, sometimes twice a day. Because he wasn't family, he wasn't allowed to sit with her, but he could watch her through the glass. Sometimes he got some information out of the doctors and nurses, but he had to really work at it. He liked watching her, not in a weird way; she just looked so peaceful as she slept. It made Stiles feel better about every shitty thing in his life, watching her breathe in and out.
"We are about to give her a wash, so we are going to close the curtains. We won't be long, so take a seat," a nurse said to Stiles.
"Oh okay," Stiles said and shuffled over to a row of seats by the wall.
He had been there for about an hour, and had other things to do, but he just didn't feel like leaving yet. Lydia's parents were hardly ever there, Stiles thought that maybe they just didn't know how to look at their child like that, sick in hospital. That was another reason why he stayed around for so long, to be there for her.
"Hi," Jackson said as he approached Stiles.
Jackson looked half asleep, shuffling towards the curtain covered window, with his hands slouched in his hoodie pockets.
"What's going on?" Jackson said, slightly alarmed by the closed curtain.
"They are giving her a wash, take a seat, they'll be done soon," Stiles said, relaxed.
Jackson ran his hands over his face and sighed, it looked like he thought something was seriously wrong. He sat down next to Stiles and waited in silence. Stiles felt this unbearable awkwardness between them, and wondered if Jackson felt it too. Whatever that happened last night on the field, had stirred something up in Stiles, he liked it, he just wasn't sure what it was.
"How long have you been here?" Jackson asked, randomly.
"Not long," Stiles lied.
"You're here a lot though aren't you?" Jackson said bluntly.
"Yeah, and so are you," Stiles replied, just as bluntly. He felt like Jackson was leading up to something, something that Stiles couldn't be bothered getting into.
Yes, he liked Lydia, he liked her a lot and for a long time. He still couldn't get over that he could take her to the formal, and how she actually had a decent time with him. But he knew that she still had feelings for Jackson, and he probably never had a chance with her. He still cared about her, and so did Jackson by the looks of things. Stiles couldn't understand why Jackson would break up with her, she is so beautiful and smart, and Jackson couldn't probably do any better. Lydia could do a million times better than Jackson and Stiles himself, but still.
They didn't talk again, just sat together in silence. Waiting over fifteen minutes, they were both quite comfortable in the seats, their hands dangling down below the seat. Stiles tilted his head back and just thought about Lydia some more, totally comfortable in his surroundings, even though it was a hospital. He dangled his arms back and forth, as he couldn't keep still. He jerked his head down once he noticed he accidentally brushed his hand against Jackson's. A tingle went through his body, similar to last night. He slightly moved his hand away from Jackson's, not to make any sudden movement. He quickly turned his attention to see if he noticed, freaking out to what Jackson would do if he saw how red in the face Stiles had become. Jackson completely had his head turned in the other direction, watching some people down the other end of the ward. Stiles rolled his eyes in a relief and turned his head back. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
What happened next, he did not expect at all, Jackson grabbed onto Stiles hand, and squeezed tight. Stiles opened his eyes but didn't turn his head. Jackson still had his head turned away, but was obviously conscious of what his hand was doing. Stiles didn't blink for a few seconds, trying to process it all through his mind. He smiled at himself, before deciding to squeeze Jackson's hand back. They remained like that for a long while, neither of them acknowledging it. Stiles felt at ease, it was nice, comforting almost. It wasn't until the nurse came out of Lydia's room that they both pulled away from each other looking at each other, like nothing had ever happened.
Stiles and a few students from school set up their gear in Stiles' garage that afternoon. They managed to fit a drum set, a keyboard and room for Stiles and the bass player. His Dad wasn't too keen on all the noise and he potential of the neighbors complaining, which is why he went out for the afternoon. They were all ready to start practicing, but Jackson hadn't arrived yet.
"He's not coming Stiles, can't we just start?" said James, the drummer.
"He said he would come, just chill out for a few minutes okay?" Stiles replied to them all.
Stiles sighed, Jackson seemed so sincere about yesterday, so much that Stiles thought Jackson might have a heart after all and would help him out. At that moment Stiles heard a loud engine roar down his street, he smiled at himself, fully aware of who he was.
"Told you guys," Stiles said, practically beaming.
Jackson casually walked into the garage, completely defining the term fashionably late. He was holding onto to a black Gibson Les Paul, like it was nothing.
"Is that, is that real?" Stiles said, with his mouth wide open. He looked down to his now sad looking Stratocaster that he bought at a thrift shop for $20.
"Yeah, so what?" Jackson said like it was no big deal.
Stiles raised his eyebrows at Jackson and shook his head.
"Can we start now?" James said, growing more impatient.
"Uh, yeah, we'll go through the songs that we discussed and go from there. Jackson you know these songs?" Stiles said pointing to a list set list of mostly popular rock songs on a music stand.
"No, but I'm sure I'll figure it out," Jackson said confidently.
He did easily figure them out, Stiles couldn't believe how much of a natural Jackson was, he seemed like he would suck with anything creative. Little did Stiles know that everything Jackson did in his life, he made sure he was really good at it, the best even. His parents may have made him take lessons, which he hated, but he just couldn't let himself fail at it.
The rest of the band stopped complaining about Jackson's cockiness once he got settled into a few solos, they were just as impressed as Stiles. Jackson looked more attractive with a guitar around his body, Stiles noted throughout. The way he could play his guitar just made Stiles see him in a completely different light, the same one he had seen this morning at the hospital and last night on the field.
One of the songs required the whole band to sing, as it needed extra harmony. Everyone, had brought their own microphones and stands for themselves, except for Jackson, as he wasn't as prepared as them. They played through the verse with ease, and when the chorus approached everyone took their mark at their microphones. Both Stiles and Jackson shared a microphone, both leaning in, face to face, their guitars inches apart. It wasn't until a few lyrics in that Stiles felt that tingling feeling he felt earlier. He was so close to Jackson, their mouths so close, only the microphone separating them. He could feel the warmth of Jackson's breath as he sang. He tried not to look at Jackson at first, and rather focus on his guitar or look into the distance.
The first chorus ended and they both pulled away quickly and broke into another riff. Stiles had never wanted to play so fast through a verse before, he just wanted to return to the microphone. He glanced at Jackson for a moment, and received a slight smirk from Jackson. Stiles thought he was probably thinking into it too much, but maybe Jackson wanted to be close to him too.
Stiles couldn't seem to distract his eyes from Jackson during the next chorus. He tried to focus on his playing, but found himself drawing his eyes up to Jackson. He looked up at Jackson eyes, only inches away from his own, and saw Jackson already looking directly into his. Stiles had to stop himself from smiling or laughing, so he could keep singing the lyrics and not let the rest of the band know. Jackson winked at Stiles before pulling away and leading into another perfectly played guitar solo. He looked at Stiles again, his eyes almost teasing Stiles, never looking at his guitar or his playing, completely fixated on Stiles.
Stiles was happy how the band rehearsal went, most of the other members were glad that Scott pulled out and Stiles got Jackson on board. Even though Jackson was still a total dick to all of them, they appreciated his playing.
"Thanks guys, I think we will be really good when he play next week," Stiles said to everyone as hey packed up their stuff.
They all left quite quickly, leaving only Stiles and Jackson in the garage. Stiles took off his guitar and started to pack away his own gear. Jackson remained there with his guitar on, and decided to compare his guitar with Stiles.
"How can you play with this piece of shit?" Jackson asked, too scared to even touch Stiles guitar in case it fell apart.
"It's good enough for me," Stiles said, honestly.
"You are a good player though, I thought you would suck," Jackson said, staring at Stiles while he packed up.
"Thanks for the support dude," Stiles said sarcastically.
Jackson smirked and didn't say anything for a while. Stiles almost felt uncomfortable, why was he still hanging around, the others couldn't leave in more of a hurry. Stiles was getting mixed signals from Jackson, hell he was getting mixed signals from himself, he had no idea what had happened in the past 24 hours. Maybe Jackson had felt the similar things Stiles had in those moments; his eyes definitely looked like he did. Though maybe he was just playing Stiles and it was all a big trick to make Stiles feel like shit. All these thoughts ran through Stiles' fast mind, it was driving him crazy.
"We need to talk…" Stiles said out of the blue, to be interrupted by Jackson.
"About what?" Jackson said with a smirk as he set his guitar down next to Stiles'.
"About you and me, on the field, this morning at the hospital and just now with the microphone. Maybe I'm being a total spazz, but I don't know, I think something is going on..."
Jackson was slowly approaching Stiles, as Stiles continued in a nervous rant.
"…The way you've been looking at me, the way I may or may not have been looking at you. Either you're pulling my strings or I'm looking into it too much, or just probably shouldn't be talking about it at all..." Stiles continued.
"You talk too much," Jackson said and quickly lent into Stiles for a passionate kiss.
The kiss took Stiles by surprise, his eyes widened and he forgot to take a breath. Jackson certainly knew what he was doing, he pressed deep into Stiles' lips, nibbling at them as he placed his hands gently onto the back of Stiles' neck. Stiles loved the coarse feeling of Jackson's lips against his own, it felt rough, yet it felt right. Stiles' slowly opened up his mouth to let Jackson deeper in.
Stiles' mind was doing somersaults in his head, he couldn't believe was what happening, he liked it though; he could feel a shift in his pants straight up. Jackson let out a soft moan as his tongue fell into Stiles' mouth, intertwining with Stiles' tongue. Stiles grabbed onto Jackson's hair to add more pressure and grip. He scrunched his cheeks as the kiss fell into a more intense and passionate affair. Both of them breathed heavily on each other, as they kiss lasted a long while.
Jackson pulled his lips away from Stiles' abruptly, but still left his hands gripped onto Stiles' neck. He looked intensely at Stiles and took Stiles' breath away with a smouldering smile.
Stiles took a few much needed breaths, "So I'm guessing that…"
Jackson bit his bottom lip, "Yeah", and lent back in for another kiss.