#stiles x jackson | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

amatchinwater · 1 month

Text

Pairing: Stackson

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Jackson Whittemore, Donovan Donati, Vernon Boyd

Tags/warnings: hate speech/derogatory language, homophobia, homophobic language, Donovan just really sucks, mild violence (he got the back eye somehow)

Words: 2663

Prompt: BTHB square Black Eye

Ao3 link Masterlist

You’d really think Stiles would’ve learned by now. Coming out of the closet is not easy. That much he can give Donovan credit for. And in no way, shape, or form will you catch Stiles forcing the matter. As nice as it would be to be public with Donovan and whatever you’d classify their relationship as. That’s something to be done when and how the other boy feels comfortable, not Stiles.

All he can do is remind Donovan that he will be there as support when he’s ready.

There’s just one tiny- okay major- problem.

Stiles is beginning to suspect that Donovan might be homophobic.

Even someone deep in the closet isn’t typically rude enough to shun someone in the halls. With something as simple as a hello or a small wave, Donati gives him this look. A nasty thing as if Stiles had spit in the boy’s face rather than offered pleasantries. And whenever he- politely- asks when they might put a label on them, even if in private, Donovan always has the same answer.

He’d rather be caught dead than with a guy.

But even with that, Stiles can’t bring himself to walk away. Call it codependency if you want, but he just doesn’t want to be alone. Granted, Stiles has his pack. Derek, Erica, Boyd, Isaac, and Jackson. But that’s not the same kind of companionship he’s looking for.

So what’s a little heartache in exchange for the companionship he is looking for?

A small price.

At least that’s what Stiles usually tells himself. Because it’s not like he could just walk up to– no, he’s not going there. Stiles’ heart and brain are already damaged enough, there’s no need to add insult to injury here.

His phone dings in his pocket as he’s walking out of school.

>>Usual spot, 5 mins

A demand, not a request. Stiles would be lying if he said that shit wasn’t getting on his last nerve.

K<<

With a sigh, Stiles shoves his phone back in his pocket, knowing full and well he’s about to leave this situation feeling worse than better. Maybe being alone wouldn’t be such a bad thing. He probably wouldn’t feel sick every time he hears that text tone.

When he gets to the music room, he can already see Donovan inside waiting for him. The other boy hasn’t noticed him yet, so Stiles takes a moment to try and turn his heart off. Can’t be affected by what you can’t feel. Right?

The music room makes sense as a good spot to meet up because ever since the teacher was killed last year, the school has yet to find a replacement. It’s never used.

As much as Stiles doesn’t want to feel loneliness, he wishes he had the strength to end this. Whatever this is.

Maybe one day.

Stiles knocks twice, once, and then three times before opening the door. It’s a code Donovan made up to ensure they know who’s coming in. Especially since the boy’s locker room is only two doors over and lacrosse practice is going on right now.

But when their eyes meet, Stiles knows deep in his bones, if he’s ever getting out, he has to do it now. There’s so much anger in the other boy’s eyes. If they’re meeting up to make out, shouldn’t Donovan be at least a little happy? Not like he’s filled with resentment.

Screw worrying about being alone. He’s got his pack and they love him. For now, it’s going to have to be enough. Because their love doesn’t come with a toxicity clause. It’s warm and genuine.

“What took you so long?” Donovan snaps.

Not out of worry if Stiles is okay. But for making him wait. For prolonging the risk of being caught. That much is evident in the way the other boy keeps looking behind Stiles, checking the window on the door for people passing by.

No one suspects a goddamn thing between them. Well, Stiles is sure his pack has smelled Donovan on him after their encounters. But they’ve never said anything to anyone; not even Stiles.

“I had to go the long way,” he explains, “the main entrance was already locked.” That’s not what he’s concerned about so Stiles adds, “no one saw me.”

“Good,” Donovan nods, “let’s hope not. I can’t be seen with you.”

Charming.

How did Stiles not get sick of this sooner?

Donovan quickly closes the distance between them, hands reaching out and eyes half closed.

“No,” Stiles pushes against the other boy’s chest to keep distance.

“What do you mean no?”

“I can’t do this anymore,” Stiles takes a step back, not liking the dark glare from those nearly black eyes. “I’m out. It’s more than okay that you’re not. But I’m tired of hiding who I am.”

Suddenly Donovan’s hands are around his throat, showing Stiles against the wall and forcing his tongue in his mouth.

Stiles’ face contorts, not even remotely kissing back and trying to push Donovan off. Stiles is all for a hand around his throat. But this hurts and he can’t fucking breathe, blackness beginning to shadow the edges of his vision.

“You’re disgusting, you know that?” Donovan sneers, wiping his mouth clean as if he wasn’t the one to force the kiss.

Stiles should’ve bit the fucker.

“Disgusting and so fucking wrong. Who are you going to turn to, huh? No one is going to want to touch someone like you.”

Stiles’ newfound backbone settles into place. He scoffs, “I’m wrong? Me? The only thing wrong here is you. Treating me like garbage when I actually liked you.”

Donovan doesn’t take a moment to digest Stiles’ words or even have half of a thought. He just rears back and punches Stiles right in the face. Really fucking hard. The force makes Stiles stumble, lose his footing, and fall on the floor.

“Don’t be such a fag,” Donovan seethes before snatching his bag up and storming out of the room.

Stiles’ face is throbbing, one eye watering and stinging so badly he doesn’t even want to open it. Can’t. Collecting himself, he gets off the ground. Brushing his pants off, Stiles quietly leaves the room. Not once does he stop until he’s pulling his jeep into the driveway.

It’s not his first time taking a hit to the face, he used to play lacrosse for fuck’s sake. But it was the first in that setting. In that…way.

Silver lining?

He’s free of Donovan.

Luckily, his dad was working a double shift last night, so he didn’t see the mess that was his son. And thankfully, with one sacrificial bag of frozen peas later, the swelling of Stiles’ eye went down. The small cut on his cheekbone is nothing of consequence. Something easily explained away by his clumsy nature. The major problem?

The very obvious black eye.

Even Stiles isn’t graceless enough to give himself a shiner. Litter his arms, legs, and sides with them? For sure. But usually if he hits his face it was from doing something stupid like the one time he was trying to make a rubber band ball. He used too small of a band and when it snapped it got him right in the chin. A nice little cut that he wore for three days. But never a black eye.

He avoided his pack last night so as not to cause any problems. Although Jackson, his childhood best friend, showed up at his goddamn house after practice. Stiles lied his ass off that he was nauseous and should be left alone. Not because Jackson might get sick. No, don’t worry, the jock reminded Stiles numerous times that he’s immune because he’s a werewolf.

Stiles just kept pushing how gross it was and that his best friend didn’t need to see that.

Jackson responded in kind that nothing could be more gross than walking in on Stiles jerking himself off when they were going through puberty. Which, thanks. Great boost to his ego there, Jax, truly. In the end, the wolf backed off once Stiles promised he’d call if he needed anything.

But now Stiles has to go to school. Lydia is off on some college tour, so it’s not like he can call her for a quick cover up. She and her makeup are states away. No staying home either. His dad would get a call at work and that’s just not something he wants to deal with. A small fib to Jackson is one thing, but Stiles is sure his dad is desensitized to his lies, it just wouldn’t work.

Maybe he can get away with staying in the library or getting a note from the nurse.

That’s probably the best course of action. If he tells the nurse he’s throwing up, they won’t call his dad and just let him leave.

Stiles intends to do just that. He hides in the boy’s bathroom, waiting for the first bell to ring. He’s got his old, oversized lacrosse hoodie on to hide his face. But the fewer people in the halls, the better. It also runs less of a risk in seeing his pack right now. They would all collectively lose their minds.

Possibly their composure as well.

Jackson has proved since they were young that he won’t tolerate people bullying Stiles. Can’t threaten what you don’t know about though. Erica would burn the school down then ask what idiot hurt him. Boyd would just give them a Derek level death glare to ensure they never even looked at Stiles again. Isaac could go either way. It would depend on the situation. A black eye would probably constitute a broken bone or two.

Best to avoid them.

Or at least until tomorrow when Lydia and her makeup bag are back in Beacon Hills and can help Stiles cover this up.

The bell rings, startling Stiles in the quiet stall. He waits until the voices have mostly ceased to poke his head out. But when he does, he catches a glimpse of Donovan walking towards his locker. Almost choking on a breathy squeak, Stiles disappears back into the bathroom.

Not without hearing Jackson call, “Stiles?”

Fuck.

Stiles rushes back into the stall to hide. If anything, it’ll keep up the façade that he’s ill. Hell, he feels so nauseous after seeing Donovan that he might actually throw up from anxiety alone.

The bathroom door opens and two sets of footsteps come in.

This is just not Stiles’ week.

“Stiles, what’s going on?” Jackson asks, voice full of concern.

It warms Stiles’ heart that his best friend cares this much. If Jackson wasn’t painfully straight, maybe the whole Donovn situation could’ve been avoided.

Again, he’s not thinking about that.

“You can’t hide from me,” Jackson says, “even if I couldn’t smell you, I can hear your heartbeat anywhere. Come on out.”

That shouldn’t blanket Stiles’ heart the way that it does. Jax only means because they’re best friends. That’s it. Just friends.

“Stiles, we just want to make sure you’re alright,” Boyd adds, confirming the wonder of the second set of feet. “You know you can talk to us.”

They won’t leave without seeing him. Stiles knows they won’t. Time to face the music. Ever so slowly, he unlocks the door, stepping out hood up and chin tucked. “I don’t feel well, I’m just going to go home.”

“If you were sick, you could’ve just said so,” Boyd chuckles.

Jackson snorts, “Well at least this time it sounds like the truth.”

Without thinking, Stiles looks up to snap at the wolf, except doesn’t get a chance to speak. He immediately realizes his mistake.

Boyd mutters, “oh shit.”

Eyes flashing blue, Jackson snarls, “Who did it?” Despite his tone, he carefully grabs Stiles’ chin to get a better look.

“Just drop it, Jax,” Stiles jerks his head and shoves the wolf’s hand away. “It’s nothing,” he says, avoiding eye contact and keeping the black eye facing away from them.

“Fuck that,” Jackson grabs his chin again, forcing eye contact while somehow remaining gentle. “Who. Did. It?” Every word is growled.

He’s pissed. Stiles may now hate Donovan, but he doesn’t want to see the guy dead. He fiddles with his fingers, not looking at either wolf. What Stiles wouldn’t give to not have a conscience right now.

His best friend laughs humorlessly, “It was Donati, wasn’t it?”

Stiles says nothing. Not that it matters. He feels it the moment his heart betrays him with a skip. And the wolves definitely heard it too.

“What are we doing?” Boyd asks, muscles flexing in his arms as he crosses them tighter.

“Find him,” Jackson growls.

All it takes is a nod of his head towards Jackson and Boyd dutifully walks out.

“I knew I should’ve snapped his neck when the whole thing started.” Jackson snorts, “and Erica said I was just being jealous.”

There’s so much to unpack in those two simple sentences.

“How did you possibly know?” Stiles opts for the least confusing of the wolf’s statements. “We were so careful.”

Jackson’s face is as deadpan as his tone, “It’s like you forget I’m a werewolf or something. As if I couldn’t hear the two of you if practice got out early. Even then, we can all smell him on you.”

Right.

That’s totally a thing Stiles thought about, he’s just still confused right now.

His best friend laughs at the face Stiles pulls. “Come on, let's get you to Derek’s where you’ll be safe until Boyd finds Donati. Get you something for that cut too.”

The care from the wolf and the gentle way Jackson wraps his arm around Stiles’ shoulder almost has him forgetting the other comment.

“Hang on,” Stiles shrugs his arm off, facing the wolf. He simply cannot get the thought of Jackson being jealous out of his head. Stiles can feel it niggling away at his brain.

He has to ask before his mind actually combusts.

“Why did Erica say you were jealous? Did you think he was going to steal your best friend away or something?” It’s the most logical reason he can think of.

“I–” Jackson looks away, his eyes trailing back slowly, uttering a soft, “No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Then–” Stiles’ heart slams in his ribcage, he can’t breathe. Does Jackson like Donovan? Had Stiles been wrong about the wolf’s sexual preferences all along? He clears his throat, doing his best not to stutter, asking “Then why?”

“Are you really going to make me spell it out?” Jackson asks with no heat. Not even the usual sarcasm in his tone that they share can be found.

Stiles flails his arms. Because obviously yes, he’s missing something here.

“That would be nice, yes.”

Jackson chews his lip, contemplating his words. Stiles can see the war raging in his best friend’s mind behind beautiful blue eyes. The wolf growls.

“Screw it,” he says, cupping Stiles’ cheeks and slamming their mouths together.

Holy shit.

Holy fucking shit!

Holy shit!

He could’ve had Jackson! Stiles didn’t have to be lonely? His gorgeous best friend has feelings for him and Stiles had no idea the wolf even liked guys. He would’ve tried something. Flirted at the very least. Can you blame him? Even someone blind would know Jackson is stunning. And he actually cares about Stiles too.

Stiles was a little frozen from shock that he didn’t kiss back right away. A very soft, small whine rumbles in the back of the wolf’s throat and he goes to pull away. Stiles curls his fists in Jackson’s expensive shirt, keeping their mouths firmly pressed together. He never wants to hear that sound again.

“I didn’t know,” Stiles whispers.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Jackson strokes his cheek. “Just say the word and I’ll snap his neck. I promise.”

“No, Stiles mutters, brushing their noses together. “I just need you.”

Jackson smiles, “You’ve got me,” leaning in to kiss him again.

#teen wolf #stackson #stiles stilinski #jackson whittemore #stiles x jackson #jackson x stiles #bad things happen bingo #Match Writes

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sapphireginger · 1 year

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Summary:

Stiles shook his head. “No. I promised you forever no matter what. I mated you for life. Yeah, you fucked up and I’m angry but mostly I’m hurt, and I’m scared,” he said with a wavering voice. “You broke my heart, Jackson.”

Jackson quickly shucked his clothes and forwent the pajama pants, not wanting to be further away from Stiles right now. He decided boxers were satisfactory. He slowly eased himself onto the bed, keeping his distance now that the pillows were set up. “Then I will spend every minute picking up the pieces. I won’t rest until I’ve recovered them all and put your heart back together again. I love you and I’ll prove it,” he promised.

Stiles shuddered, full of emotion and nodded before laying down and curling up facing the middle.

Jackson got home later than usual and stumbled a little. He wasn’t drunk, just exhausted. He put his key in the lock and opened the door quickly going inside the house. He heaved a tired sigh as he closed and locked the door behind him.

It had been a rough, and stressful day at work, and he hadn’t had the time to text his husband that he would be home late. He made his way to the kitchen after kicking off his shoes by the door. He opened the fridge and smiled when he saw a plate of food. Ten minutes later he had a home cooked meal and a soda.

When he finished eating, he washed his dishes and headed towards the bedroom, but Jackson stopped when he heard a sniffle. He turned to see his daughter, Lily, curled up on the couch and made his way over to her.

“Hey Lily bear,” he said.

She looked up at him, her eyes red from crying. “H-Hi Papa,” she whispered.

Jackson knelt down to her level and brushed her curly blonde hair out of her face. “What’s wrong cub? Why are you crying?”

She sniffled and wiped her face. “Cebause daddy is sad,” she said.

Jackson tilted his head and glanced towards the master bedroom. “He is?”

"Uh huh," Lily whispered with a hiccupped sob.

Jackson looked back at his daughter and kissed her forehead. He hated when she was upset. The sooner he found out why she was upset, the sooner he could fix it. “Why is daddy sad?”

Lily looked down and pulled away from Jackson causing him to frown. "Lily?"

Without a word, Lily climbed off of the couch and started towards her own room, not sparing him a look or acknowledging him in any way.

Jackson frowned more and stood up. “Lilliana Beth,” he firmly said, his hands on his hips, trying to remain calm. “Do not walk away from me.”

She stopped and glanced back at Jackson with more tears forming in big blue eyes. “Why did you break Daddy’s heart?” she asked meekly before running to her room and closing the door.

Jackson sucked in a breath, feeling confused. How did he break Stiles's heart? He ran his fingers through his hair and then froze when he heard his daughter begin to sob. He gulped and felt his throat click with emotion. Jackson took a step in that direction but before he could take another step, their bedroom door opened, and Stiles wandered out, rubbing his eyes. He didn’t seem to notice Jackson standing there and instead went straight to their daughter’s room.

Normally, the sight of his husband in just pajama pants and no shirt would elicit a primal reaction from Jackson. Just looking at Stiles and knowing that the man was his, was enough to make Jackson swoon most days. However, he was rooted to the spot. He loved Stiles more than anything in the world aside from their daughter, but he just knew something wasn't right.

So, Jackson just stood there, trying not to listen in but damn his werewolf senses. Stiles went into their daughter’s bedroom, leaving the door ajar. Jackson silently made his way to where he could peek in.

“Hey, my little Lily bug,” Stiles whispered. “Can you tell daddy what’s wrong?"

Lily climbed onto Stiles's lap and nuzzled her nose against his throat as he wrapped his arms around her. With a sniffle, she laid her head on his shoulder. “Papa’s home,” she whispered.

Stiles stilled but didn't stop gently rubbing her back. “Were you waiting up for him?” he asked as he kissed her forehead.

She nodded. “Uh huh.”

“Why baby?”

“Cebause he broked your heart, Daddy,” she said with a hiccupped sob.

Jackson’s brow furrowed in confusion, but he said nothing, deciding to move closer to the door that Stiles had left open. He was silent, hoping that he could ascertain what had happened by listening to the conversation between his husband and daughter.

Stiles’s shoulders sagged. “He doesn’t know that though, baby. I thought we said you needed to let daddy handle it,” he said softly.

“Yeah, but we’re family, Daddy. I gotta purtect you like you purtect me,” she said as she sniffled and clung to her daddy.

Jackson couldn’t listen anymore. Not only had he done something to break his husband's heart but now his daughter thought Stiles needed to be protected from him. Why did she think that? From the day he got together with Stiles, they had never been anything other than completely and totally, one hundred percent in love. Sure, they were assholes, and snarky little shits but that was them and they never were anything other than themselves. It was the perfect fit for each of them. Being together made sense, and all their friends agreed.

There had never been any doubt as to how much they loved each other. It was even more obvious to everyone after Lily was born and the two men still never wavered in their love. None of their friends would say they weren't in love. So, Jackson was beyond concerned at hearing the conversation between his husband and daughter. How had he broken Stiles's heart and what did he do that made Lily think Stiles needed to be protected from him? Jackson would die before hurting his family.

His thoughts started to spiral. It was too much, and he slipped into their room, quickly grabbing pajamas. He didn’t even know if Stiles would want him in their bedroom. He also didn't know the whole story but what he had heard so far was enough to make him sick.

Jackson stood just staring blankly at the dresser and started to push his drawer back in, but he stopped when he heard one of his favorite sounds in the world. Stiles was singing.

♫♫♫

Distant moon, so big and bright Softest silver glowing through the night High atop, the mountain gold Sun unseen, the world is cold

Here I wait, and here I stand Early morning northern hour hand Studying, in solitude Looking for a hidden clue

I wish to see this world through my own eyes To calm the elders and silence their cries Because of you, I now gaze up and sing The lullaby of the moon

Found at last, I steal away Moving faster through the silent shade Sea of stars, like flowers bloom Looking for the hidden tomb

Here I found the crescent blade Forged by Rakkor, surely lunar made Shining down, upon the earth Now they'll see, I'll prove my worth

I wish to see this world through my own eyes To calm the elders and silence their cries Because of you, I now gaze up and sing The lullaby of the moon

Condemned me to death With my last breath Sorrow and anger Fill my head

Distant moon, so big and bright Softest silver glowing through the night High atop, the mountain gold Sun unseen, the world is cold

Now I know my chosen path Higher calling they will know my wrath Raise my relic blade I will not be swayed With the might of the moon by my side

♫♫♫

Jackson listened with a lump in his throat at the familiar lullaby accompanied by their daughter’s even breathing as she fell asleep. He loved when Stiles sang more than he loved almost anything else in the world. He then tensed realizing Stiles was leaving Lily’s room which meant…

“Jax?” he heard Stiles softly say.

Jackson turned to look at Stiles and had to swallow past the lump in his throat again. “Hey,” he whispered.

Stiles nodded and walked over to the bed, climbing back onto it and sitting cross legged. “How was work?” he asked quietly.

Jackson quickly closed the dresser drawer and glanced at the bed, uncertainty filling him. His pajamas were forgotten on the top of the dresser. “It was stressful,” he admitted. “More stressful than usual.”

Stiles noticed Jackson looking at their bed but said nothing about it. “I’m sorry it was stressful, Jackson,” he whispered.

Jackson looked over only to have Stiles look away from him. “Stiles? What did Lily mean?”

Stiles’s breath hitched and he cleared his throat. “She just overheard a phone call. That’s all. She was taking her bath and I stepped in the hallway to take the call. I didn't realize that she could hear me, but I couldn't just leave her unsupervised in a tub full of water.”

“What phone call could she possibly have overheard where she would get the impression that I had broken your heart?” Jackson snapped. He was frustrated with the unknown mistake he had made. If Stiles would just yell at him, hit him or tell him what he did wrong, then he could fix it. It wasn’t like Stiles not to say anything. He wanted to provoke a reaction of some kind from his husband so they could discuss it and work it out. Jackson refused to consider the possibility of irreparability.

Stiles tensed at his husband's tone and frowned. “Isaac called me,” he said. “He t-told me that you—” He cut off, cleared his throat and swallowed thickly.

“Told you what? What did Isaac tell you?” Jackson asked, his voice softer. He ached to reach out and comfort his husband.

“He told me about C-Connor and H-Holly,” he said, glancing at Jackson.

Jackson’s face went pale at the mention of them. They had been a source of discomfort for him for a couple of weeks now. They had made passes at him while at work despite the clear sign that he was taken. Jackson rubbed his thumb back and forth over his wedding band in frustration. He had turned them down every time, but something obviously happened, and Stiles was way too calm, though Jackson could see the tension in his husband's body. He was so confused. “My interns?”

Stiles snorted but there was no real humor in it and Jackson watched a tear slip down Stiles’s cheek. “Yeah. Interns. Right,” he said sarcastically.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Stiles reached for his phone and tossed it at Jackson. “Look for yourself. Isaac sent them to me,” he stated. His amber eyes flicked to the window, the stars a welcome distraction.

Jackson took the phone and opened up Stiles’s conversation with Isaac. His eyes widened at the pictures showing him with Connor in his lap and Holly behind him, her chest on full display. He felt sick as he scrolled through the dozen or so pictures. He didn’t think it had actually happened and yet here it was right in front of him.

Then there were pictures of just him and Connor that were more than suggestive if his blatantly obvious erection in the picture had anything to say about it. Jackson felt his chest begin to tighten and then he began to panic as his heart started to beat faster. He couldn't hear past the blood that was pounding in his ears. He was going to lose Stiles. He was going to lose his daughter, all because he got drunk and let go with his two interns of all people.

Stiles was silent and Jackson hated that. He finally met Stiles’s gaze, guilt churning in his gut. When he saw the look on his husband's face, his heart shattered. He had never before been the cause of his husband's insecurity and heartbreak, but now he was. It was as plain as the tears falling down Stiles's cheeks. As if that wasn't bad enough, Stiles's next words, broke him. “Was I not enough?” Stiles whispered. “Did I do something wrong?” he cried. “Do you not want this anymore?" His last question was barely audible. "Do you not want me anymore?”

Jackson dropped the phone and made an aborted move to comfort his husband. “My Moon, that’s not—” he started but Stiles cut him off.

“Do not touch me!” Stiles hissed, flinching away from Jackson.

Jackson stopped in his tracks and lowered his arms to his sides. “Honey, I didn’t—”

“Didn’t mean to?” Stiles said with a humorless and bitter laugh full of pain. “Those pictures show just how much you loved it. Unless you’re trying to tell me that your fucking cock is not hard in those pictures!” he baited in a venomous tone.

Jackson vigorously shook his head, his own eyes full of unshed tears. “I truly didn’t mean to. It was a stressful day at work. So much more stressful than it’s ever been before. We did finally complete a project for a new client that had been the cause of much stress for all of us. So, when they asked me to go out for drinks, I said yes,” he implored. “It was me, Isaac, Connor, and Holly. We were the team that was assigned to the new client. I got drunk and before I knew it, they had their hands on me.” He cleared his throat. “Holly holds no interest for me and Connor—” He stopped himself an odd ache pulsing in his stomach, the pain making him wince. He had always reacted a visceral nausea when he felt guilty. He hoped he wouldn't throw up before he could finish their conversation.

Stiles’s fingers gripped the sheets of their bed so hard that that his knuckles turned white. “You’re attracted to him.” It wasn’t a question.

Jackson swallowed thickly and wished he’d just come home to his husband who he loved so fucking much it hurt. But no, he just had to go for drinks. He knew better, was better, than this. Why did he have to fuck up so badly. He may have just lost everything.

Stiles breathed out. “Do you want to be with him?” he asked, his voice trembling.

Jackson’s eyes widened and he vigorously shook his head. “No. Never. I don’t want anyone but you. Please believe me, Stiles,” he pleaded.

Stiles curled into himself. “Then why didn’t you come home to me,” he whispered.

“Because I’m a fucking idiot who decided to drink and destress instead of coming home to my husband. Because I chose alcohol over a home cooked meal, our daughter and movie night with you. Because I’m stupid and I hate that I hurt you! I'm just so-Fuck fuckity mother fuck!” He choked on a sob and looked away to regain his composure.

Stiles sniffled and wiped his face, letting out a shaky breath. “I can see why you’re attracted to him,” he mumbled. “He’s good looking." Stiles laughed bitterly. "He's better looking than me.”

Jackson frowned and moved to stand at the end of their bed. “No, he’s not. Stiles, honey, no. He doesn’t have eyes that are liquid gold. He doesn't have eyes that are like holding a drop of the sun. He doesn’t have lips that are like the petals of a cherry blossom in the shape of a Cupid’s bow. He doesn’t have a constellation across his cheeks. He doesn’t have skin that bears my bite, my mark. He doesn’t have a mark that shows he gave me a child, but do you know who has those things? You, Kochanie. You have those things. I love you so fucking much, and I will do anything to fix this.” He moved to the side of the bed a few inches from Stiles's hand that was still fisting the sheets and dropped to his knees. With a hitch in his breath, he looked up at his husband.

Stiles shuddered, his breathing erratic and pulled the covers around him, seeking comfort that he would normally get from his husband. “I-I just need…” he trailed off.

Jackson waited patiently, his eyes never leaving Stiles. He needed to know what Stiles needed him to do. Jackson would do whatever Stiles asked of him. The thought of losing his husband was too much to bear.

“I need to know that you’ll be here when I wake up." Stiles said. "I need to know that you want me and that you want our daughter. I need to know that…” he trailed off once more, emotion making his voice crack.

Jackson took the opening and said, “I won’t go anywhere. I can sleep on the couch. I’ll take Lily to school. I won’t go to work for a couple days and I'll finally use some of that vacation time I never take advantage of. I’ll issue a termination for the interns." He pulled his phone out and immediately began composing an email. All that mattered to Jackson was fixing things with his husband. He should have done so ages ago when the two interns first started making passes, but he hadn't, and he would never forgive himself if he lost Stiles because of it.

After composing the email, Jackson showed it to Stiles whose amber eyes scanned the screen as he read. Stiles's eyes flicked to Jackson blue ones and then back to the screen. He nodded and whispered. "Thank you."

Jackson let out a heavy sigh of relief, though he knew that was only one crisis averted. He pressed send and set his phone aside after silencing. All of his focus was now on his husband. "I’ll do whatever it takes,” Jackson promised.

Stiles looked at the love of his life and wiped his face. “As for your list of what you'll do, yes to all of them save for one,” he said.

Jackson tilted his head. “All but one? Which one?”

Stiles wrapped his arms around himself. “I don’t want you to touch me, but I want you to sleep here. I haven’t slept in a bed without you in a very long time. So that’s the only thing that I don’t want out of what you said you will do,” he whispered.

Jackson's heart clenched at the vulnerability in his husband's voice. “Then that is what I will do. We can put a line of pillows between us. If I get too close, will you please tell me?”

Stiles looked at their pillows and then at Jackson before nodding slowly. “Okay.”

Jackson felt the ache in chest and heart lighten. “I’ll grab some more pillows from the guest room.” He quickly got some pillows and brought them back. He closed the door and started arranging the pillows but then paused. “When did you get the pictures?”

Stiles tensed and then breathed out. “Around 5:00 pm. Why?”

“Yet you still put a plate of food in the fridge for me after you knew?” Jackson inquired.

Stiles blinked several times and looked up at Jackson from under his eyelashes in a way that always made Jackson’s breath catch but he knew the action didn't mean now what it usually meant. “Yes. You’re my husband and you need to eat. I’m not a crazy person who’s going to kick you out or destroy your things.”

“You would be justified in doing so,” Jackson stated.

Stiles shuddered, full of emotion and nodded before laying down and curling up facing the middle.

Jackson flicked off the lamp and did the same. He watched as Stiles’s eyes fluttered closed and saw the moon glint on Stiles’s wedding ring. His husband didn’t hate him, but he also didn’t like him right now and as much as that broke Jackson, he was just so damn grateful that he still had a chance to fix it.

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