Discover Top Posts Tagged with #werewolf jackson

Feb 25, 2018

Jackson and Scott? Please?

I wasn’t sure if you wanted fluff or smut, so I went for fluff! (On AO3)

“Okay,” Scott says from behind him, hands settling warmly onJackson’s shoulders. “Take a deep breath, then let out the claws. Only the claws.”

Jackson sighs. He’d tentatively agreed to be part of Derek’spack a week after he’d stopped being a ‘murder lizard’ (Stiles’ words, nothis), and started being an actual werewolf. But he’d flatly refused to letDerek train him, considering that Derek was already responsible for many of hisnightmares. Jackson did not trusthim.

Which meant that the next most experienced werewolf was noneother than Scott McCall. Jackson had been pretty dubious about his abilities asa teacher, but had agreed reluctantly.

On reconsideration, though, he’s not sure he can handle allof this touching. He’s pretty surethings were better when he could paralyze people on the spot.

But he knows that Derek willtake him down if he doesn’t improve his control, so he takes a deep, steadyingbreath, and lets his claws slide free. He raises them up so Scott can see themover his shoulders.

“Great,” Scott says, sounding genuinely enthusiastic. “Nowretract the claws, and shift only your face.”

His hands slide down to Jackson’s biceps, and when hesqueezes gently Jackson has to suppress a shiver.

It turns out that Lydia isn’t into the fangs, glowing eyes,and sudden hair growth at all—despitethe fact that it’s a definite improvement over his lizard stage—so they’d splitup not long after he’d changed. And it wasn’t that big of a deal, she was justsomething else in his life to make him look good, but it did mean that he hadn’t gotten laid in weeks. And that was making the touch of Scott’s hands affect him alittle too much.

Even worse, the way Scott smiled at him sometimes madeJackson’s heart feel like it was growing in size, and he didn’t like that one bit.

“How will you even know?” he asks gruffly, trying not tolean back into Scott like he wants to. “You’re standing behind me.”

“Trust me, I’ll be able to tell,” Scott says easily.

Jackson’s still working on the whole ‘listen to theheartbeat’ thing, but he’s pretty sure Scott’s not lying. Jackson’s never seenhim this confident and centered, and it’s honestly kind of intriguing.

He takes a slow breath, feeling Scott’s hands skim acrosshis arms, and lets himself shift. He manages to do it smoothly, despite thedistracting warmth and scent of Scott behind him.

There’s a short pause, and then Scott leans in until hischeek is almost touching Jackson’s, his chest bumping lightly against Jacksons’back. “Nice try,” he says, breath tickling against Jackson’s skin. “But yourclaws are out.”

Dammit.

Scott had wanted to meet every day after school, but Jacksonhad sneered and shot that down real quick,claiming it’d be too damaging to his reputation. Especially considering thatLydia is still ignoring him completely.

He’s apparently being punished for that now, since theaddress Scott texted him after class has turned out to be an old, creepyabandoned building.

Which absolutely stinksof garlic.

Jackson grimaces, and Scott leans out of the doorway tolaugh at him. “You’re going to have to work on that poker face,” he says. “Orjust never go into an Italian restaurant ever again.”

“Fine by me,” Jackson grumbles, but Scott ignores him.

“So, your task for today is to find the source of all thatgarlic smell,” he says, with too much enthusiasm.

“I’m not a drug-sniffing dog,” Jackson says snidely,eyebrows raised.

“Not yet,” Scott says cheerfully. “And I’m not even askingyou to find drugs. So go on, make me proud.”

Jackson gives him his best scowl, then takes a quick breath,trying not to wince. He makes his way cautiously through the doorway, hearingScott follow close behind him, then makes his way around the perimeter of thebuilding.

There are shelves with old paint cans and dusty cardboardboxes, and normally Jackson wouldn’t enjoy those smells, but this time they’rea brief respite from the pervasive smell of garlic. He keeps moving, pastwooden pallets and broken pieces of plastic, and picks up several garlic scent-trails.

He turns to look at Scott, who’s standing in the middle ofthe warehouse. “What did you do, smear it everywhere with your hands?” he askssarcastically.

“I might have,” Scott says, putting on his innocent face. Itdoesn’t fool Jackson for a second. “Just a little.”

Sure enough, Jackson finds that one of the trails leadsfaintly back to Scott. He gives Scott a suitably disgusted look, then returnsto his search. It takes several tries, but eventually he zeroes in on thesource, finding the open jar under a coil of rope.

“You did it!” Scott says brightly, like Jackson just scoredthe winning goal of the game. He reaches toward Jackson for what’s likely ahug, but Jackson shies away before those garlic-hands can make contact.

“I need some fresh air,” he says, heading for the door. Hetosses the open jar at Scott on his way out, smirking.

He gets a few blissful moments of peace before Scott joinshim. He doesn’t smell any more like garlic than he did before, so his reflexesmust be pretty good. Though Jackson would never admit that out loud, of course.

“Okay,” Scott says, ignoring Jackson’s surly look. “Nexttask is to find Derek.” He points toward the forested area behind the building,raising his eyebrows.

“What? He’s here?”Jackson demands. No matter how much he strains his ears, he can’t hear anythingout there except a few birds.

“Not really,” Scott says, shrugging. “But I hid one of hisshirts for you to find.”

“You realize I’m also nota bloodhound, right?” Jackson says. “Besides, I thought Stiles was the one whodid all the dog jokes.”

“There are hunters in this town. We have to be able to findother members of our pack in case something happens,” Scott says, unperturbed.“It’s a basic skill, so I’d hoped you’d be able to master it.”

Jackson bristles at that, even though he knows that’sexactly what Scott wants. “Oh, I fucking will,” he growls, then stomps off intothe trees.

“Good,” Scott says cheerfully. “I’ll be timing you!”

No pressure, thenJackson thinks, moving faster and trying to catch even a hint of Derek’s scent.

It’s usually sharp with anger, distinct, but even as hetakes a wider loop he can’t find it. He does catch other scents, though:Isaac’s oddly sweet but slightly fearful one, and the mixed smells of Erica’sperfume and hairspray.

He’s temped to follow thosescents, find out why they were here and where they went, but he resists theurge. He needs to stay on-task. He needs to provehimself.

So he keeps going despite his mounting frustration, but itseems like the more he tries to find only Derek’s scent, the more all the other smells just cover it up. There’ssuddenly an overwhelming amount of them, and he starts to tense up, shaking alittle as the helpless feeling of failure starts to wash over him. Maybe he can’t do this after all.

But then he takes a deep, shuddering breath and pretendsScott is behind him again, hands on his shoulders, grounding him. It takes amoment, but the rush of bitter insecurity fades, and Jackson closes his eyesand lets the tension slowly bleed out of him.

It’s then that he faintly picks up Derek’s scent, with justa hint of Scott’s cinnamon smell with it. He cautiously heads in thatdirection, stopping and closing his eyes every time he loses the trail.

This calm process eventually leads him to one of Derek’sshirts, laid carefully across a rock. Jackson tosses it over his shoulder, thendecides to complete a bonus round and find Scott, too.

He’s much easier to locate—Jackson picks up his scent almostimmediately, and follows it along a narrow path to a small clearing. Scott’ssitting on a log in the middle of it, watching a pair of birds with a littlesmile on his face. He brightens when he sees Jackson. “You found it,” he saysproudly. “Good work.”

Jackson nods. “I’m a little surprised you weren’t rightthere when I did.”

“I was tempted, but I decided it’d be better if I gave yousome space.”

Jackson breathes a quiet sigh of relief. Scott missed hisnear-breakdown, then.

“Hey,” Scott says to catch his attention, then points to atrail between the trees. “We’re done for the day. That’ll take you straightback to the parking lot.”

Jackson goes, but finds himself oddly tempted to stay.

Jackson doesn’t exactly have plans Friday night—he’d alwayslet Lydia decide where they were going and what they were doing—so when Scotttexts him and asks him to come over, he doesn’t have to think long before heagrees.

“What sort of training are we doing today?” he asks whenScott answers the door. “Werewolf acrobatics? Howling 101?” He tries to soundput-upon, but he’s honestly happy to be here. He was getting bored sitting inhis room, especially with Danny at the Jungle and barely answering his texts.

“What?” Scott says, eyebrows pulling together. He gesturesJackson inside, points to the pizza boxes waiting on the coffee table. “No, Ifigured we could use a break from all the training. We can just hang out, watcha movie or something.”

Previously, Jackson would have been tempted to make a snideremark about losers with nothing to do on Friday nights, but he’s beginning tothink it wasn’t Scott who was the loser all this time. “It better not be TheNotebook,” he says automatically, then rolls his eyes at himself. He’s not withLydia anymore, he never has to watch that movie again.

Scott just laughs. “Wouldn’t be my first choice, either. Youcan pick something for us to watch, if you want,” he says, pointing to the DVDrack.

Jackson tries not toshow how thrown—and pleasantly surprised—he feels, and casually strolls over tolook at the selection.

It becomes apparent that some of the movies must beStiles’—he can’t imagine Scott owning a documentary on termites. He scans thetitles several times, but he’s so distracted by Scott’s presence, by thekindness Scott is showing him, that he ends up grabbing a DVD at random.

He’s just loading it into the player when Scott flips thelids on the pizza boxes, and the smells hit Jackson full-force. “Hey, is thatsausage and pepper?” he asks, glancing over. It’s his favorite, but he didn’tthink anyone knew that.

The other box just has a plain pepperoni pizza, and Scottgrabs a slice out of it as he says casually, “Yep, just for you.”

He sends a bright smile Jackson’s way, and he feels hisheart pick up in response. Scott’streating him like they’re friends orsomething, despite Jackson’s admittedly dickish behavior toward him through theyears. He doesn’t know quite what to make of that.

So he eats his pizza and pretends to watch the movie, thoughhe mostly just tries not to stare at Scott, who’s strangely captivating here,comfortable and confident in his own environment.

“You know,” Scott says after a little while, “we should playsome lacrosse out back. See how much your skills have improved—I know you’vebeen holding yourself back at practice.”

“Can’t suddenly be amazing overnight,” Jackson says with apointed smirk. “That’d be too suspicious.”

To his surprise, Scott smiles. “Don’t want people thinkingyou’re on steroids?” he asks playfully.

“Yeah, can’t have them finding out about this juice,” Jackson snorts, clawsbared, and Scott sends him a knowing grin.

There’s a long silence after that, and Jackson staresmindlessly at the screen while Scott eats his last slice of pizza. Jackson’sstill getting used to the capacity of his werewolf stomach, so his box is onlyhalf empty. He looks at it contemplatively for a moment, then says, “I thinkthe part that’s going to be suspicious is the fact that I don’t hate myco-captain anymore.”

Scott looks absurdly pleased by that, so Jackson rolls hiseyes and adds, “You really are a goodco-captain, I just didn’t want to admit it.”

Scott’s smile, if possible, gets even wider. “I’m stilltrying to figure it out, but—”

“Nope,” Jackson cuts in, then has a moment of disbelief thathe’s actually going to say this, but, “you understand their strengths and howto use them better than I do. I tend to just yell at them until thingsimprove.”

“Yeah, that’s also the Coach Approach,” Scott says,laughing.

Jackson tries not to join it, but he can’t help it. “Hey, atleast when I give a motivational speech, it’s not a direct quote fromIndependence Day.”

“Fair enough,” Scott says. “Though if I’m rememberingcorrectly, yours go more like ‘get outthere, and don’t fuck up’ so I’m not that impressed.”

“I don’t talk like that,”Jackson protests, full-on belly laughing now, tears prickling at the corners ofhis eyes. “You sound ridiculous.”

Scott grins, and doesn’t deny it.

They make fun of Coach for a while longer, then let theconversation drift to other subjects—though Jackson doesn’t mention Allison,who broke up with Scott a couple of weeks ago, and Scott doesn’t mention Lydia,who still isn’t interested in resuming their relationship—and he enjoys it morethan he ever thought he would.

“So, what’s your anchor?” Isaac asks, boosting himself upand sitting on the counter like a heathen. “You figured it out yet?”

“My what?” Jacksonsays, eyes on Isaac’s smirking face.

“You’re in training, and you haven’t learned that yet?” Erica says disbelievingly asshe saunters over. “You know, your anchor.What you think about when you want to control your shift.”

“Mine is my pervasive, nameless dread of the future,” Isaacsays with complete seriousness, then rolls his eyes at Jackson’s look. “I’mkidding, obviously. But I’m not telling you what it actually is.”

“You mean who itis,” Erica says smugly. “And we all know that it’s Stiles, so don’t even playlike it’s not.”

Isaac busies himself with fixing his scarf, and doesn’t sayanything.

Erica grins victoriously. “Mine’s Boyd, by the way.”

“Are you his, then?” Jackson asks curiously.

“I think his anchor is his own force of will,” Erica says,shrugging. “His control is amazing.”

“So, have you found your anchor yet?” Isaac asks again.

Jackson immediately flashes to the image of Scott standingbehind him, hands a soothing weight on his shoulders, encouraging him to stayin control. Remembers how much Scott’s scent settles him, how Scott was his first thought when he got frustrated,and how that had calmed him almost immediately.

“I think I have,” he says cautiously, though he doesn’t evenwant to admit it to himself. He’s let himself get attached. And to Scott McCall, of all people.

“Yeah, I figured,” Erica says, giving him a knowing look.

Jackson sneers to cover up his worry, then heads out of thekitchen and into the open area of the loft, trying not to think about Scott.

He shows up at Jackson’s locker on Friday afternoon,standing closer than Jackson would normally be comfortable with. His scentwraps around Jackson like a warm blanket, and he has to fight the urge to leanin and bury his face against Scott’s neck.

“Your first full moon as a werewolf is coming up,” Scottsays, as though Jackson could have somehow forgotten. “Do you want to comeover? Or would you rather be at your house for that?”

Why can’t I do italone? He nearly asks, but finds that he doesn’t really want to. “Myhouse,” he says, because he wants to be somewhere comfortable and familiar.

“Okay,” Scott says easily. “I’ll bring some snacks andstuff, and come over later.”

Jackson nods, and Scott gives him a sunny smile, hisshoulder brushing against Jackson’s before he goes.

Honestly, Jackson’s a little disappointed at howanti-climactic the whole thing is.

His family isn’t home—he knew they wouldn’t be—but itdoesn’t even matter, because nothing particularly unusual happens. (Sure,there’s a little bit of howling, because he couldn’t resist, and Scott hadpromptly joined in. Then he’d had to call Derek and let him know they were bothfine.)

And he feels kind of reckless and full of energy, butScott—god help him, his anchor—isright there with him, so he’s not too worried about it.

They go for a late-night run around the neighborhood, eatthe high-carb snacks Scott brought, then play their intense, werewolf-versionof lacrosse in the backyard.

At some point they end up wrestling on the floor of theliving room, teeth bared and growling, but there’s no actual malice in it. Theypin each other a few times, snap their jaws when they do, then laugh as theyroll apart.

Jackson wakes up in the morning tucked into his bed, feelingalmost hungover. Scott’s sprawled out on the blankets next to him, lookingtotally relaxed and not much worse for wear.

Jackson blinks sleepily, considers his options, then inchesa little closer and goes back to sleep.

“Dude,” Danny hisses, cornering Jackson as he steps out ofthe Porsche. “Why didn’t you tell me you were dating Scott?”

“I’m not,” Jackson snaps out, feeling his heart jolt. “Whywould you think that?”

Danny gives him a condescending look. “Maybe because youhaven’t whined about him stealing your glory for weeks, or because I’ve seen you willingly talking with him afterschool. Or maybe because his car was parked in front of your house all weekend.”

“We we’re just…hanging out,” Jackson tries weakly.

Danny doesn’t look convinced. “You know, when he was askingme weird questions, like what your favorite kind of pizza was, I didn’t knowwhat was going on. But now it’s all starting to make sense.” He levels a sternlook at Jackson. “And if you’re notinterested, you better let him down soon. Nobody likes to be led on, Jax.”

“It’s not like that,” he grumbles, pushing past Danny andhurrying toward the front doors.

It’s not like thatbetween him and Scott, he’s sure of it. But that doesn’t explain why he feelsso off-balance.

And it doesn’t mean he doesn’t want there to be something.

“Okay,” Scott says, pulling Jackson into his house andgiving him a smile that looks a little sharp. “We’re going to work on yourcontrol today.”

“Haven’t we done that a bunch of other times?” Jackson sayswryly. “And we’re not even close to another full moon. I think I’m fine.”

He’s promptly shoved up against a wall, Scott’s handspressing hard against his chest. He feels his fangs itching at his gums, readyto drop, but he manages to hold them in. He can’t have Scott proving him wrongthis early.

“Different kind of test,” Scott says, fingers digging intoJackson’s shoulders. “And you can stop me any time you want, okay?”

“What?” Jackson says automatically. Usually his training isnot presented as optional.

“See, when I first turned, my control was pretty good,”Scott says, breath washing warmly against Jackson’s neck, and he struggles notto shiver. “Except when thinks got a little more…intimate.”

Scott’s lips are suddenly pressed against his throat, his handssliding slowly down Jackson’s chest. “So the question is,” he says, tonguedarting out across the curve of Jackson’s collarbone, “can you stay in control now?”

His hands drag down and slip under Jackson’s shirt,fingertips stroking along Jackson’s hips, and it’s too much.

“Do I have to?” he growls out, yanking Scott up and into akiss. You don’t need that kind of control if you’re with another werewolf. He’s digging his claws into Scott’s hair and intothe back of his shirt, but he doesn’t care. Not when he’s too busy tastingScott, savoring the way he feels pressed tight against him.

And Scott kisses him back eagerly, rucking Jackson’s shirtup as his hands move higher, thumbs skating across Jackson’s nipples. He canfeel Scott’s strength humming just under the surface, and being surrounded bythe scent of his arousal makes Jackson feel intoxicated and craving more.

He grinds up against Scott, reveling in the sound he makes,and feels the sharp bite of Scott’s claws against his skin. He pulls away,grinning. “Looks like I’m not the only one who needs to work on control.”

“Around you,” Scott says, licking his lips, “it definitelytakes more work.”

“Good,” Jackson says, feeling entirely too pleased. He stillhas a hand buried in Scott’s hair, but he doesn’t plan on moving it, using itinstead to pull him in close again. “What made you think I’d go for this?”

“There were a few clues,” Scott says with a smile, fingerstracing over Jackson’s abs. “Like the fact that you kept calling me Scott instead of McCall.”

Jackson blinks. He’s not sure when that happened. He hadn’teven noticed.

“And I overheard your conversation with Danny in the parkinglot. When you said there was nothing between us,” Scott says, hand restingwarmly in the center of Jackson’s chest, “your heartbeat changed. That’s when Iknew that I had to make a move.”

“Considering you actually called it training,” Jackson says teasingly, leaning in to run his lipsacross Scott’s jaw, “I think you could use some more practice.”

A month ago, he’d been pissed about losing his girlfriend,thinking she was his best option. But he hadn’t considered that he could get aboyfriend instead.

He’s considering it now, though.

“You going to give me that practice?” Scott asks, lookingamused.

“Yeah, I will,” Jackson says, smiling, and pulls Scott intoanother kiss. “Let’s get started.”

#scackson #werewolf jackson #fluff #pining #my fic #Anonymous

dragon-temeraire