Stiles is—Well, drunk might be too kind of a word.
“I—“ Stiles laughs, leaning heavily against Scott’s side. “I am fifty shades of faded, dude.”
Scott nods. “Yeah. That’s true.”
“And horny as hell,” Stiles adds with a hum, smile going dopey.
“That is also true,” Scott agrees, smiling over at Allison as she hides her laughter in her own drink.
Stiles babbles a bit, leaning back against Scott while also dangling precariously out of their booth. The bar is busy but not loud, and Scott is startled when Stiles whistles loudly and clearly through the den.
He looks the direction Stiles is, a hand resting at the back of Stiles’ neck as his friend perks up as if to stand on legs that definitely cannot hold him right now. When he spots Lydia entering, her friend from New York in tow, Scott sighs.
“Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes.” Stiles chirps.
Before they’re even at the table, Stiles is waggling his brows at the tall stranger at Lydia’s side. Lydia’s lips are thin, like she’s biting back her amusement, and her arms cross over her chest as Stiles clucks his tongue.
“Hey there, hottie.” Stiles slurs, swaying and only kept steady by the firm hand at the back of his neck.
“Jackson,” Lydia corrects, voice strained in her bemusement.
Jackson is scowling.
“Jackson.” Stiles breathes, like he’s in love already, and pats his knee. “Well, Jackson. Why don’t you come on over here, sit on my lap, and we’ll talk about the first thing that pops up?”
Allison almost spits up her drink.
Ears going pink, Jackson stiffens. “Excuse me?”
Holding up a hand, Lydia clears her throat past the giggle. “Jackson, this is Stiles. He’s going through a bad breakup.”
“And?” Jackson sneers.
“And he’s a very close friend of mine,” Lydia frowns up at him. “So be nice, or find yourself a hotel to stay at for the week.”
Jackson sighs, eyeing Stiles like he might have some kind of disease. “Fine.”
He slides into the booth right next to Stiles, and Stiles is elated. He beams, and Jackson’s jaw flexes, but there is something like interest in his eyes as Stiles starts babbling again—thankfully, with no more pickup lines.
By the end of the night, Jackson is the one carrying Stiles out the door, nearly as drunk as they lament about dick exes on the way to Lydia’s car. In the back seat, they pass out, and Lydia doesn’t miss her chance to take as many pictures as possible of them sleeping curled up together.
Tag: stackson
“I called you an abomination, but now I know I was wrong.”
2×07/3×05
(1/4) I like the idea of Jackson and Stiles kind if just flopping into their relationship. Like, after Nogitsune-shit (*sparkle* cliche *sparkle*), Jackson is the one that can usually calm Stiles down from panic attacks and like the pack has a buddy system now (god knows they need it) so Scott puts Jackson with Stiles. So Jackson just ends up hanging around the Stilinskis’, and Sheriff’s
just “Stiles why is Jackson Whittemore making eggs in my kitchen again why does he have a key why is he crashing on my couch” and because Jackson’s a wolf he’s really tactile but Stiles is too because hell yeah, and they’re already crossing lines with Jackson helping with his panic and anxiety attacks so they just drop all pretenses of trying not to touch. The pack doesn’t mention/care outside of Lydia snapping as many pics as possible. And they’re just studying one night, feet hooked under the kitchen table and Stiles is trying really hard not to paint his text book in highlighter and Jackson is taking a break and watching him when Stiles just asks “Hey, are we dating” without looking up, and Jackson tilts his head, goes “Do you want to” and Stiles is like “yeah” and he’s like “cool” and even though they still banter, it’s a surprisingly/suspiciously healthy and stable relationship. While I’m a sucker for the “not ready to come out” stories that Stackson is famous for, I also like the idea of it just becoming normal for Jackson to be touching Stiles at school or for Jackson to automatically share half his lunch, or for them to do regular walks of shame that are far from shameful, or for them to hold hands on the way out to the field for practice or just ugh. Happy Stackson makes me happy. (This is of course under the assumption Jackson either never left or came back).
i’m actually literally all about this okay you have NO idea omfg :’)
Yes! Stackson is my life, so could you write me something fluffy of them? Like a snow day one or something, complete with hot chocolate and cuddles? I would die happy.
Stiles is pissed, honestly.
He saved up for months to take this trip to London, and he did it so that he could get some sense knocked into him. Literally, if necessary. Because ever since the nogitsune, all his friends have been dancing around him, with no idea what to say. And he gets it. It takes a special kind of fucked up to know how to help someone get past being possessed. But if there’s anyone who’d know what to say without treating Stiles like he could break at any moment, it’s Jackson. He figured, Jackson’s been through it before, and as an added bonus, he’s an asshole, so he’d know what to do, what to say. He wouldn’t sugar coat it. It’d be good.
But then he got there, and Jackson met him at the airport and greeted him with an “Alright?” with his new British slang and a hint of a British accent (which was admittedly adorable), and he carried his bags and bought him lunch and was generally un-Jackson-like, so yeah, Stiles is pissed.
“Dude,” Stiles says over dinner that night. “Seriously, what the hell?”
“What?” Jackson asks, raising a brow.
“What?“ Stiles asks incredulously. “It’s been eight hours and you haven’t said anything sarcastic, snarky, or douchey. That’s what.”
Jackson just shrugs. It’s infuriating.
It was a miracle that Stiles had managed to make it through the school day when the only thing anyone was talking about was the fact that Jackson was skipping out on a huge birthday blowout that year. Feeling overwhelmingly smug about something but trying to hide it behind a mask of indifference was a lot harder than he’d though it would be. And he had every reason to be smug, honestly, because he was the reason that Jackson had skipped out on a party.
Him.
Stiles “Lady’s Man” (Gentleman’s Man? He should look into that) Stilinski.
But more difficult than keeping his smugness a secret from everyone was pretending that he didn’t want anything more than to be standing around Jackson, laughing and screwing around with his group of douchebag friends.He knew that it was a stupid thing to want, to crave, when he had Jackson all to himself that night, but no matter how many times his told himself this it was hard to keep from clenching his jaw and marching over to his bright-eyes werewolf.
A nervous tick had Stiles smoothing down his pants to feel the small box nesting in his pocket- a smile graced his lips in anticipation for the final bell to ring.
~6 hours later~
“Stiles.”
“Mmng?”
“You’ve been sitting nervously on my couch for the past thirty minutes, playing with that box. Now are you going to give me my birthday present or am I supposed to be guessing?” Jackson asked, and Stiles could hear how much his werewolf was struggling to keep himself patient with him.
He was touched, really.
However when this comment did nothing but make Stiles’ heart race faster, he could physically see Jackson gearing up for a different tactic.
Jackson got up from his coveted spot on the sofa, knelt down in front of Stiles and rested his chin on Stiles’ knee.
“Will you please tell me what’s wrong so that I can help?” he whispered.
Taking a deep breath, Stiles tried to explain.
“I’m worried that I made a major mistake with your gift and that instead of it being the perfect thing it’ll be awful and blow up in my face…”
Instead of answering, Jackson reached out to tug the box from Stiles’ twitching fingers, sit back on his heels and begin unwrapping it. Stiles was gnawing on his lip, unable to stop speaking.
“I mean I thought to myself what do you get the guy that supposedly has everything? And then I remembered that you didn’t really have everything and so I tried to give you the thing I knew you didn’t have and I was pretty sure you wanted…”
Stiles was pretty sure that the moment Jackson pulled out and unfolded the pieces of paper he’d stopped breathing. He knew what those wide blue eyes were staring at- the pictures of both a man and a woman, and all the information Stiles had been able to (illegally) gather on them. Jackson fingers began to shake, and Stiles began to panic.
“It really pays to have a dad who is the Sheriff, you get to overhear all of the nice access codes to databases you would normally be unable to reach… like tracing anonymous adoption records through a process that would normally require a government level warrant… though I have to admit Danny helped there, too…”
Jackson still hadn’t said anything, hadn’t even turned to the second page, where there was more. Instead he was staring at those faces, faces that Stiles knew looked familiar because they held features Jackson studied every day in the mirror, as if he was a dying man and those faces were his last keys to salvation.
“You, um, you have an aunt. I found her. She’d thought you died in the crash too, and um, I know this because I contacted her and she said that she wanted nothing more than to meet with you and tell you about your parents and your family and she has, has picture albums and things…Her contact information is on the second page…”
The color had drained from Jackson’s face, and Stiles heart sank like a stone into his stomach. He knew that he’d gone too far, that he should have just gotten him a new lacrosse stick or something. Gulping down tears that he wouldn’t let fall, Stiles made to stand and leave, saying,
“Jackson, I’m sorry okay? I was stupid and I went too far and I’l just-”
But before he could finish his sentence a freight train rammed into him, sending him crashing back into the couch with his favorite pair of lips frantically attacking his mouth.
Jackson was kissing him like Stiles lips were the only thing he needed to survive and he’d been without them for too long, and Stiles kissed him back just as fiercely- tasting Jackson’s skin and his tongue and his tears-
Wait.
Stiles ripped himself from Jackson’s assault to stare at the blue-blue eyes that were currently accentuated by slow tears traveling from them, down those perfect cheekbones, and to meet the purest most genuine smile that Stiles had ever seen on anyone’s face. Ever.
“Thank you,” Jackson croaked. “Thank you, I love you, thank you …”
And Stiles had no response to that other than the three word’s he’d been wanted to say all damned day:
“Happy Birthday, Jackson.”
Heyo Stiles coming to visit Jackson while he’s still living with his parents in London and expecting to stay in a hotel but his parents are just “Nope, you were our son’s gay thing you are a Whittemore now” and Jackson hitting his head on the dining room table because “No, that was our secret, dad why would you do that” and Stiles is just pleased as punch because Jackson is everybody’s type, but Stiles is JACKSON’S type. Have a nice day.
oh my GOD
Jackson and Stiles REALLY need to become pen-pals after this season.
Long late night Skype calls when neither can sleep.
Talking about dreams and half-remembered things that scar their memories.
Knowing that they can’t be who they were before but healing slowly through the shared pain.
Finding that kind of anchor that only exists when someone doesn’t just say they understand, but when you know that they really, truly know what you’ve been through.
“what happens to lost boys?”
“well, someone finds them eventually.”pairing: nogitsune/jackson
For gaygeekyjock / From coltonobrien.
Made for round two of the twrarepairexchange.
okay but just imaginE.. college halloween au where they both go to lydias sororitys halloween party but jackson, rich frat boy thats only here bc hes supposed to be here, is brooding in the corner and stiles, lame computer kid who technically wasnt invited, drags him to play beer pong and stiles is completely horrible but jackson is actually having a little bit too much fun and they steal a bottle of vodka and go back to stiles’ dorm where they watch scary movies and eat candy and kiss a little
writing this one a little bit early since today’s halloween and i don’t wanna be late to the party lmfao ALSO this made me think of greek immediately so this is a semi-greek au in which jackson’s cappie and stiles is rusty BYE
The parties were fun freshman year, but after two years of nothing but, Jackson’s gotten pretty sick of it. He could never admit it aloud, being a member of the party fraternity on campus, a choice he finds himself regretting more often than not these days.
But he still loyally shows up at every party, because that’s what Kappa Taus do. Tonight it’s ZBZ’s halloween party (Lydia had made the rounds to all the houses and threatened their physical wellbeing if they chose the Gamma Psi party instead), but Jackson refused to dress up. The way he sees it, he’s here, and that’s more than enough.
He’s standing in a corner, scrolling through Twitter in silent protest, when someone calls his name.
He looks up and sees one of the KT pledges, wearing a Batman T-shirt but otherwise costume-less.
“Hey, Stiles, right?” Jackson asks, and when he nods, adds “Pledges aren’t supposed to be here, you know.”
Stiles waves a hand. “Ah, details. Besides, I’m having more fun than you are. Why come if you’re just gonna sit here playing Candy Crush?”
“I wasn’t…whatever,” Jackson says with a huff. “I’m just keeping up appearances.”
“Well, if you want to keep them up well, it’d probably help if you looked like you were having at least a little fun,” Stiles says matter-of-factly. “Come on, let’s play beer pong.”
shealwaysreads 