Type: PreSlash, Angst, FriendShip, Snark
Fandom: Teen Wolf [TV Series]
Pairing: Derek Hale/Jackson Whittemore
Setting: Sometime after Season 1 Episode 6 "Heart Monitor"
Word Count: 4047
Summary: Jackson is in a panic on his way home from school, since all day he's been haunted by flashes of Derek, who he believes has taken to stalking him after leaving those scratches at the back of his neck. After rushing home, afraid for his safety, Jackson learns that the very person he's been trying to run from is now firmly planted in on dark corner of his room. Pity he locked all the doors and windows after all then, isn't it? He quickly learns that Derek is not there to hurt him, but what he is there to do might be a little worse. Jackson is becoming a wolf, and Derek his Alpha. The beginning of an interesting relationship.
Warnings: This chapter in the series is rated PG-13 for use of swearing and underlying homoerotic development, as well as mild occurrences of violence. Spoilerish to those who have not seen up to Season 1 Episode 6 "Heart Monitor", and possibly episodes following that. First attempt at a Teen Wolf fic, so be gentle. Due to the show being so young, we have taken liberties and made up/twisted some of the show's own lore, for the sake of this pairing/fic. This is a co-write so please excuse any shifts in perspective change you encounter. Jackson is written by me, Varrosgirly and Derek by Jaxon666. Comments always welcome so long as you don't have a stick up your ass. Thanks!
Jackson's tires squealed as he tore out of the parking lot, having just seen that Derek guy at the corner of his eye for about the hundredth time today. And just like every other time, he was gone when he looked again. Something was up, but he didn't know why he had to endure the wrath of some whacked-up drug dealer. McCall had ratted on him, for some insignificant thing, hadn't he? That little shit was going to get it.
He was staring into his rear view mirror, making sure he wasn't being followed, barely swerving out of the way of crossing traffic. Jackson had never run a red light before. At least not accidentally, like this. He had to pull himself together. With another quick glance to his mirror, he made a sharp left turn, taking a long way to his house, through unmarked back roads.
Once he arrived, he parked his car in the back, out of the view of the road, and rushed inside, quickly shutting and locking every door that led outside. Jackson avoided the windows as much as he could on the way to his room, shutting the door loudly as he got inside, leaning against it for a moment and just listening. Nothing. He laughed in relief, throwing his keys onto his bed before he saw his dishevelled room. Jackson froze, eyes swivelling to the corner, where Derek was sitting.
"Shit...shit, I didn't do anything! What do you want?" Jackson took a step back, hands up in defence. Whatever this guy had been following him for, it could be explained, or paid, away.
"Relax." Derek sounded more bothered by Jackson's nervous response to his presence than any other crime he might have thought the overbearing jock had committed, lazy eyes delayed in their witness to the owner of the bedroom.
He tossed the journal he'd been flicking through on to the bed flippantly, no care that it was an admission to Jackson that he'd been reading it, nor how that made him feel.
"I just came to talk." Derek's eyes then wandered to where Jackson's were drawn to; his open drawers, the open pages of his journal, various items of clothing on the floor that had evidently been handled for some reason.
Still sounding completely bored of the necessity for having to talk like this, Derek rolled his eyes back over to Jackson and offered a brief, characterless explanation.
"I got bored." His face remained as moody as always, with no new expression to comfort its onlooker.
It was a welcome relief that Derek was staying put, but he was still there in the room, which wasn't great. Jackson was very annoyed that the guy, currently guilty of breaking and entering, had gone through his stuff at all, let alone his more personal items, like the journal, tossed like it was an uninteresting paperback bought on sale.
"To talk? Fine, I...talk about what?" What had Derek been doing, going through his clothes? Jackson wasn't sure he really wanted to know.
"Look, if it's because I know about your arrangement with McCall, I can forget that. Don't know a thing. Okay?" Jackson's hand was holding the cell phone in his jeans pocket, just in case.
"We...good then?" He winced in anticipation, glancing at the bedroom door. Which he had locked upon arriving. Damn.
"I don't think you get it. You need me to talk to you." it was time to play ball, and Derek did just that, with an undertone of aggression in his deep, dryly chorded voice.
"You think I want to be here?" it certainly didn't look that way. From only the edge of his eye's blind spot Derek could see clearly the adolescent's coming attempts to escape this situation. The human fight or flight response sent a thick and desperate aroma through the air, sweet almost, like the too-warm juice of a tangerine, bland in it's tang and more importantly unsavoury. Derek smirked before another delayed look was given to the boy.
"Don't even think about it. Cell phone, now." he held his hand out, with a tangible and predatory promise in his gaze that it would be very dangerous for Jackson not to fulfill his request.
"Don't bother running. I'm faster. Stronger. And don't try to bullshit me because I know your parents won't be home for hours yet. It's Wednesday. I've done my homework." Derek grinned like a madman at that last line, the expression not seeming to fit his features, looking alien to them almost.
"Listen, I'm not going to hurt you unless you make me. And I'm not a drug dealer. Now sit down and chill the fuck out. Thanks." he thanked Jackson for doing something before he'd even agreed to do it. Derek was that cocky. Obnoxious even. But still sort of cool somehow, in a dangerous, mysterious and potentially psycho killer with a dead look in his eye kind of way.
Unfortunately, handing over his cell phone meant getting closer to Derek. Both of which he really did not care to do, and both he had to. Jackson hesitated before pulling the phone from his pocket and stepping closer, placing it in Derek's outstretched hand. He stepped back and sat on the end of his bed, watching Derek. The jock was starting to feel better about things, though the word 'better' was relative.
"Okay, I believe you...sort of. Why do I…need you to talk to me?" His gaze swept the room again. Derek had claimed boredom for the mess, but Jackson didn't really think that was an excuse. When you were bored, you didn't go through someone's clothes.
"Why...why do you know so much about me?" He didn't dare ask how long Derek had been following him, not yet.
"God. Seriously, calm down. You stink." of course, Jackson did not smell bad in general, at least as far as other people would have been concerned. In fact his hygiene was impeccable, much like his choice of deodorant, aftershave and grooming regiment. But fear to a werewolf as evolved as Derek smelt like a bitch. A dank, salty, overcooked bitch left to rot in the trunk of a car that had subsided in some backwater swamp somewhere. It wasn't pleasing.
"And don't be so shifty. Gives me a headache." Evidently, Derek was now done telling Jackson what not to do and why, in terms of it's effect on him. For now.
For once Jackson has asked the right question.
"I did something to you. Thing on the back of your neck. The open wounds. Didn't mean to but...now I have. That means things are gonna be a lot different for you. Soon. Sooner if you want them to. And you should, if you want to protect yourself." so that was all he was saying for now. At least it was intriguing, but then again that hardly mattered when the listener had enough reason now to be freaking the fuck out a little. More than a little maybe.
Jackson gave him a funny look, wondering how he could stink. Maybe he'd worked up a sweat in his nerves and hadn't realized it. But he took a few easy breaths anyway. Derek wasn't attacking him or anything, and apparently he wasn't a drug dealer. Which left Jackson with very few options as to why the remaining Hale son was here. He removed his jacket, laying it beside him and letting his hands fall between his knees as he listened. Jackson instinctively felt the wounds on his neck as they were mentioned, frowning. This conversation was going somewhere he was sure he wasn't going to like.
"Yeah, your nails...I don't know how those did this..." Jackson stared with wide eyes suddenly, mouth open in unspoken accusation for a moment.
"Did you...give me AIDS or something? I've felt like shit the past couple days..." Now he was really unhappy. Something that he couldn't control, and now he could die? "Protect myself, yeah right. A little late for that, isn't it? What did you give me?"
Derek growled at being accused of transmitting AIDS, and too the fact that Jackson had somehow found the balls to do so. He wasn't the bigger animal here. Derek looked at him like a dinner that had pissed him off.
"I know." he said, of Jackson's recent illness "It's the infection spreading slowly. It happens that way when you've just been scratched. Better if you get bitten." Derek didn't realise that he wasn't doing anything to ease Jackson's worries, but then he really didn't care a fuck about his feelings. Call him apathetic, if you want your dick bitten off.
"You don't have fucking AIDS, asswipe. You're becoming one of us." he said that like Jackson was meant to know what he had meant by "us" already. In fairness, he should have had some idea.
"Bitten?" Jackson felt like Derek was poised to attack, with the way he looked now. But the guy was also starting to spout nonsense, and he was right; his parents wouldn't be home for hours, likely longer if they went out again. Maybe Derek was counting on that.
"I'm not following...and I'm not sure I want to." One of us? What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Some weird cult thing? Whatever it was, it had to be something that Scott was involved with. The little prick had been another average nobody until Derek showed up in town again.
"You scratched me, and it's making me sick so I can join some club? And now I should want to get bitten instead?" He almost told Derek to just do it, if it would make him feel any better. "Just...tell me what this is. And how to make it stop."
"Pipe down you little fuck." Derek said, his beastial canines manifesting for a few moments before he returned to a more relax state, his strident voice overlaid with a second, less human tone that told a promise of uncertain rage.
This Jackson kid really ought to learn his place. Derek was no drug dealer, but short of being a werewolf who could rip through his guts in a split second with one swipe, he was also a bad ass who could seriously fuck him up.
"First of all, pay attention. That's not what I said, and I don't like wasting my breath." Derek certainly had more attitude than Jackson, a masculine, vitriolic one at that, though Jackson seemed hot on his tails for it at times.
"I'm a werewolf you annoying little shit. Guess what that makes you." and because Jackson had irritated him, Derek grinned fiercely at that revelation, knowing that pretty soon, this new information was going to fuck with both his life and his head.
Jackson had a moment of panic, unlike the ones before. Whatever Derek had just done was terrifying, as well as physically impossible. But it had happened. And it wouldn't be the only thing that occurred tonight that seemed impossible, as Derek so kindly began to point out to him.
"Werewolf..." Jackson couldn't make a coherent statement from that at first, so he just stared. As far as he was concerned, werewolves only existed in bad, b-list Hollywood movies, not in his bedroom. And he certainly couldn't be one.
"But...why would you wait so long to tell me? You were...in my locker room. Just a couple days ago." Jackson felt a little ill, and he may have looked it, too. "Say I believe you. How long is it gonna take before I'm done with-" he gestured vaguely "-this?"
"I thought you'd take it better than Scott did. Some jock you are." Derek flippantly assaulted Jackson's character with so easily thrown away comments. It was like he had no ordinary human moral set to wrestle with, how effortlessly he parted with harsh, mean words. He lacked sympathy for their receiver; it made his words even more genuine in intent that way, not that it was strategic.
"I was busy." he stated his main reason for not coming to Jackson with this sooner "And there was a chance you might have died. You didn't. Good for you." he sounded so cynical and cunty, yet he looked so pleased he could have burst for it.
"You're already healing." he answered Jackson's question "And by the next full moon, you'll be turned. Unless you want it sooner. I can make that happen. Frankly, with your attitude, I'm pretty sure I'd rather let some other wolf rip you a new one. Literally. If I don't do it first." Derek grunted, turning away from Jackson and placing the removed battery of his cell phone on one of his bedroom units. He didn't even grace the boy with a single gaze now.
"You're probably not cut out for it anyway. You don't listen. You're scared as a bitch. How am I meant to train you? Even if I am your Alpha. No. Maybe I'll just stick with Scott after all."
"It's a little different being told you're turning into a werewolf than...getting a bad grade on a test." Jackson spoke with a bit of an edge to his voice. Couldn't Derek get that this wasn't something you didn't exactly get prepared for in life? But he was curious now, and wanted to know a couple more things. Derek was getting mean now, and very unnecessarily.
"McCall? Better than me?" He scoffed, audibly, crossing his arms and feeling angry, the fear he held for Derek dissolving.
"How the hell was I not supposed to be scared of you? You attacked me at my school, showed up when I was practically naked, stalk me without telling me what's going on..." Jackson stood, now annoyed that Derek didn't even look at him.
"McCall is a little bitch, I know that for a fact. He just got a lucky break. When we're on even ground, I'm fifty times his worth in anything. I can handle this better than he ever could. He got bit didn't he? Easy way through it?" Jackson felt his anger growing, claw marks pulsing like a branding iron had just pressed them on.
"I told you to pipe down!" Derek's voice was thick with inhuman tone again, and louder this time as he shot up from his seat, an excess of bulk bloating his muscles, fangs formed even further than before, shoving Jackson upwardly into the wall behind him. Quite some distance too, at least a few meters. Butt-hurt or not, Jackson would get over it. He could heal now. Derek shut his eyes and breathed away the wolf within, with deep and determined breaths. If he didn't, this could get ugly.
He was typically aggressive anyway and didn't like to be challenged, that was part of being a natural born werewolf. But this anger, maybe it came from the connection between Alpha and pack wolf; a natural disposition to insubordination. Whatever anyway, Jackson was a little shit and Derek had proved his point; don't fuck with him. Now that he'd shrunk back down to his general 'human' size, Derek opened his eyes, skin still hot with annoyance, and closed them in on Jackson who now remained unkempt on the floor, a few broken things surrounding him.
"Watch the 'tude around me. I'm not your daddy, or some school kid that somehow thinks you're the shit." he said, pulling his eyes off Jackson in a further attempt to cool down a little. He walked over to the boy, offering him a hand up, still looking pissed off, but at least he was extending some sort of olive branch.
"You want to learn how to control this, then you better man up. Otherwise in a few weeks, you're gonna be dead or worse."
Jackson groaned, holding his ribs, nearly seeing red. He didn't like being told anyone could surpass him, especially when the thing of measure was one that he hadn't been given a chance to compete in. A framed photo had fallen next to him, the glass shattering. There was a dent in the wall where he'd hit.
"Fine," he said through clenched teeth, feeling his anger slowly fade as Derek just stood there. It had built up really fast, and he hadn't been able to stop himself. That was new, since he was usually pretty calm under pressure. Jackson accepted the help up, no pain shooting through him now.
"I can learn. That...I don't know what happened just now. But I felt something, and I didn't want it to stop." He had, though; something in him submitted when Derek had thrown the jock like a paper doll.
"I have to deal with just being scratched?" Jackson cracked his neck with a grunt. It set his spine back in place, which had gotten a little out of order from hitting the wall. "This is something I can't control now. I want to learn how, and I know I can learn fast." Jackson had no choice, really. It was adapt or die now.
Derek got closer to Jackson and turned to stand behind him, Jackson following the motion so that they remained facing one another. It was like something in them responded to the other without human means of communication; an animal dance. Derek playfully pushed Jackson on to the bed, and smirked when the boy gathered himself and looked at what might have been a further threat from the older man.
He could go on to smirk himself; ironically it had been the first friendly thing Derek had freely done to him to date. Part of Jackson knew it, but not a part he knew how to speak with fluently just yet.
"Like I said, there are ways I can speed it up, make you one of us faster. Scratching won't be much help now. Biting...that works. But being close to me...that's the real kicker. You wanna hang out with a drug dealer with anger management problems, who's been accused and locked up for murdering his own sister?" he smirked again, with playful warmth.
Something about their interaction was now very different. It was almost like Jackson was getting a feel for Derek, understanding him in a way. Which didn't make sense, though his instincts took over for him. His nostrils flared, and he realized he was taking in a scent. Well that was new. Even as Derek shoved him, Jackson knew it wasn't like before. His entire body was at ease, and he was soon on the verge of actually laughing. He settled for a light, amused smirk instead.
"Sure...I mean, you made me a werewolf-" he shook himself for actually, seriously referring to himself as such, though it was completely true "-might as well, right?" Jackson leaned up on his elbows, looking Derek over. Even the older man's stance was changed, somehow, but not visually. He didn't get it.
"I'm going to have to anyway, since I would never trust McCall's judgment on something like this." As for speeding it up...well, Jackson didn't want to feel like shit for almost another month. "I think I can handle getting bit, too, then. It's worth getting the end result faster, right?"
"Here." Derek went forward to join Jackson on the bed, taking to it from a comfortable strut and kneeling up at Jackson's side, the younger boy still on his back "I'll show you something. How it works." He grabbed Jackson's nearest hand and held it firmly over his own chest. He immediately realized that this was not the most efficient way to demonstrate what he was about to, rolling his eyes at his own first action and then slipping Jackson's hand under his t-shirt before once again placing it over the center of his chest. Skin to skin was much better for this. He took in a breath and let Jackson's hand respond to his heartbeat.
"Feel your own pulse." he told him, before smirking "See how it's matching mine?" it was a neat trick, but then Derek liked being a werewolf; he always had been. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad having a cub to train. It was sort of like having family again, wasn't it. He let go of Jackson's hand after he'd shown him what he'd intended to.
Jackson looked confused for a moment, looking from where his hand rested, to Derek's face. The first thing he noticed was how warm the older werewolf was compared to him. He was radiating heat. At the instruction, Jackson stared blankly, realizing he could not only feel the heartbeat under his palm, but hear it. His own pattered to match the rhythm, syncing up completely with it, beat for beat.
"Woah...that's actually really cool." Jackson actually smiled, resting his arm across his stomach once Derek released it. "It's...like we're connected…'cause you made me or whatever. My heartbeat recognizes yours...it like…knows who you are." He knew who Derek was, of course, but he sort of felt who the older man was now. It was different, and he didn't know how to explain it.
"You're blood now, aren't you? Even if I had completely flipped my shit over this...that wouldn't change." Jackson was sort of comforted by that, but he didn't let it show for very long. He hadn't known anyone directly related to him, and this could very well be the closest he'd ever get. "This control thing...can I learn how, before I'm done...turning?"
"Not blood. But...family. Sort of." Derek softened for just a moment, quickly asserting himself in traditional mood again soon after "Doesn't mean you're beyond getting your ass kicked if you step out of line." He held a very serious stare, which sort of ended with the tiniest etching of a playful smirk.
"People know you. People like you. You're already athletic. If you work at it, you could make a good wolf." maybe a great one but Derek didn't believe in feeding treats to dogs who hadn't earned them yet.
"Still, McCall was a nobody before he got turned and even he has to watch his back. You have to watch yours a whole lot more. Any free time you got, you should be spending it with me. No girlfriends, no jerking around with your lacrosse dipshits. Maybe we can have you figure out how to get a handle on it before you start transforming. No books on it but I guess you're in good hands. I was born this way. Make a Gaga joke and you're toast." and that time he really wasn't joking, preparing his fist mentally for a good right hook to Jackson's jaw if he dared.
"I can handle that," Jackson shrugged. Hell, Lydia had been annoying him more and more lately, as it was.
"I spend most of my free time training or studying anyway. Just a different kind of training now I guess." He'd have to explain things to Danny, maybe, but not fully. They were close, but nobody was going to get this. Except for McCall, and Jackson couldn't exactly picture himself buddying up with the little bastard.
"Gaga? Hate her," he snorted, though Lydia loved putting on the radio station that seemed dedicated to the mannish freak of a singer.
"You were though? Born…what you are?" That interested Jackson, that there was a difference in passing it down. Maybe that's part of what made Derek so formidable. He was naturally wild or something.
"How young were you when it…first…happened?" Jackson wanted to learn how to handle his new problem quickly, get to normal. There was no way he'd be as suspicious or shady about it. He was good at everything he put his mind to, no matter how many gruelling regiments he put himself through to get there.
"Enough questions." Derek said, getting up from the bed as if uncomfortable with how easily close he was cozying up to his new, accidentally made pack wolf, as pleasant as it all seemed to be.
"I put my number in the back of your journal. Call me. Tomorrow. I'll see you after school, my place." Derek insisted coldly, walking out before even allowing Jackson a real chance to answer. Perhaps for a little while, things were not going to be so easy, at least not for Jackson anyway.