Fluid, Like a Gesture or an Argument
Author: tryslora
Title: Fluid, Like a Gesture or an Argument
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: Stiles/Jackson, Scott/Allison
Character/s: Stiles, Jackson, Scott, Allison, various OCs
Summary: When his ex-husband invited him to dinner, Jackson expected something that was just family. It would have been easier that way.
Warnings: past divorce, angst, fighting
Word Count: 1124
Prompt: #35 - Attraction
Author's Notes: First, I’m sorry for any typos or words that don’t make sense. I’m writing under the influence of a migraine and this is hot from the fingertips. Second, I knew I had to write part of this series for this prompt, because attraction is very much still a part of who they are, despite the friction. Third, this is part of my All Our Yesterdays series. And as always, I do not own the characters or world of Teen Wolf, I just like to play with them.
It’s unfair that ten years after the divorce, Jackson’s attention is still caught by the path of Stiles’s fingers through the air, focused on the fluid arc as he tells a story and laughs, hands just as expressive as his words and expressions are. He feels the tap against his foot under the table and glances at Amanda. Her lifted eyebrow says clearly that his attention has been noted, but she won’t say a word since Jackson reminded her that Scott’s hearing is just as sharp as his own.
When Stiles had said dinner, Jackson hadn’t expected this. He’d thought it would be him and Stiles and Nikki, but somewhere between parting ways after the graveyard and mid-afternoon, Stiles had planned a dinner party instead, with Scott, Allison and Caleb invited, and Nikki calling Jackson to tell him to bring Amanda and Angie. Jackson knows it should be easier to have more people there, and perhaps it is for Stiles. For Jackson, it just feels like there are more people to catch him staring at the ex-husband he has no right to still want.
“He’s never quiet.” Nikki leans over, her shoulder pressing into Jackson’s as she looks at him, smiling. It’s like seeing Lydia there with her red hair, but the ease of expression is something he never associated with her mother. It reminds him of Stiles, the way her grin shifts suddenly, bright and open, and he finds himself searching for something of Stiles in her features, even though he knows that’s not probable.
Lydia was lucky with Nikki; she never wanted anyone to know the father of her child, and Nikki looks like nothing more than a near-clone of her mother. It’s as if Lydia planned it, and Jackson sometimes wonders if she did.
Nikki pokes him. Her eyebrow goes up, almost mirroring the way Amanda looked at him, only this time it’s questioning. Waiting. Jackson answers by looking past her to where Caleb sits, their hands linked beneath the table, and Nikki flushes and looks away.
Two can play that game. If she wants to prod her fathers back together, Jackson can poke her back about her boyfriend. At least it keeps his teenage daughter from interfering in the love life he doesn’t have.
“Jackson doesn’t have a boyfriend.” Angie’s voice rises clearly, and Jackson gives her a startled look, not sure how the hell that came up while he wasn’t paying attention. Scott looks amused, and Allison hides her smile behind her fingertips. Stiles just scowls.
“Fine. Girlfriend.” He glances at Jackson. “I was just saying that whoever you’re dating should be invited out. If you’re staying.”
Somehow in the last few minutes, Stiles has gone from smiling and at ease to tense and withdrawn, and Jackson wants to know what the hell was said. He presses his lips thinly together under that dark regard. “I’m not dating anyone.”
“Papa doesn’t date,” Nikki offers, tone light. “I asked him about it, and he said he doesn’t have time for relationships.” Stiles winces when she speaks and Jackson has a feeling that Amanda’s not the only one kicking people under the table. “Don’t get mean, Dad. If you want to know something about Papa’s life, just ask him. You were in a much better mood last night.”
“Talking to-” Jackson cuts off quickly when the kick comes, far more than a light tap against his shin. Stiles glares daggers at him and Jackson remembers that Nikki knows nothing. Considering her mother’s heritage, Jackson doesn’t think that’s wise, but he hasn’t filled in the blanks that Stiles has left. It wasn’t his to do, and even now, he’s not sure he should. It would do more damage than good, he suspects. He shakes his head. “It was easier last night, with just the two of us talking.”
“You got along,” Nikki says quietly, heartbeat skipping for a moment, and Jackson sees the faint motion as she squeezes Caleb’s hand tightly. “You had an entire dinner without fighting. Dad got home late.”
Stiles won’t meet his gaze, so Jackson watches him instead. Even though he knows everyone is looking at them, observing their standoff, he watches his ex-husband and he drinks in the details. The way Stiles’s long fingers curl against his cheek, a familiar nervous habit of fingertips tapping against skin. Jackson’s gaze travels along the muscles and veins that line his hands and wrist, the wiry strength he can see still lies in those arms. His face is sharper than Jackson remembers, although the core of his body seems softer. No less strong, though.
No less attractive than it used to be.
“Don’t make it more than it is, Nik,” Stiles says quietly. Jackson’s heart thumps and he catches the look Scott gives him, quiet and assessing and full of hurt him and I will end you.
“We’re doing our best to not argue.” Jackson fights to keep everything even and calm, to not let anything escape. “I came here for you, and I’m still here for you.” He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. “I’m staying. I gave my two weeks notice, so I have to go back and clean up, but I’m moving back to Beacon Hills.”
Stiles stands so quickly the table shakes, everyone reaching out to steady it, Caleb catching a glass before it spills on Nikki. “That is not the kind of decision you get to just make, Jackson.”
“It’s my life.” Jackson keeps his voice low. “I’m looking for an apartment and I’m going to be part of Nikki’s life now. This way it’ll be right under your needing-to-know-everything eyes rather than her sneaking around to call me. I’m not asking for custody. I’m not asking for anything except permission to talk to my own daughter.”
Stiles takes a step back, and for a moment Jackson swears he sees a flash of hurt in those amber eyes before they go shuttered. “I’m not hungry any more. Nik, do me a favor and clean up after everyone’s done.”
“I’ll help,” Allison murmurs, and Amanda adds her agreement.
Jackson drops his gaze to his plate. There’s a part of him that thinks he shouldn’t have come back, shouldn’t have opened this can of worms. But Nikki’s worth it.
And no matter what he does, he can’t forget Stiles’s and his hands, those long fingers, the way they used to touch… the makeup sex used to be brilliant after fights.
He curls his hand around the fork and forces himself to eat. Around him conversation slowly fills the empty space left by Stiles, and there is a small sense of normalcy about it all. Whatever normal is now.
Title: Fluid, Like a Gesture or an Argument
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: Stiles/Jackson, Scott/Allison
Character/s: Stiles, Jackson, Scott, Allison, various OCs
Summary: When his ex-husband invited him to dinner, Jackson expected something that was just family. It would have been easier that way.
Warnings: past divorce, angst, fighting
Word Count: 1124
Prompt: #35 - Attraction
Author's Notes: First, I’m sorry for any typos or words that don’t make sense. I’m writing under the influence of a migraine and this is hot from the fingertips. Second, I knew I had to write part of this series for this prompt, because attraction is very much still a part of who they are, despite the friction. Third, this is part of my All Our Yesterdays series. And as always, I do not own the characters or world of Teen Wolf, I just like to play with them.
It’s unfair that ten years after the divorce, Jackson’s attention is still caught by the path of Stiles’s fingers through the air, focused on the fluid arc as he tells a story and laughs, hands just as expressive as his words and expressions are. He feels the tap against his foot under the table and glances at Amanda. Her lifted eyebrow says clearly that his attention has been noted, but she won’t say a word since Jackson reminded her that Scott’s hearing is just as sharp as his own.
When Stiles had said dinner, Jackson hadn’t expected this. He’d thought it would be him and Stiles and Nikki, but somewhere between parting ways after the graveyard and mid-afternoon, Stiles had planned a dinner party instead, with Scott, Allison and Caleb invited, and Nikki calling Jackson to tell him to bring Amanda and Angie. Jackson knows it should be easier to have more people there, and perhaps it is for Stiles. For Jackson, it just feels like there are more people to catch him staring at the ex-husband he has no right to still want.
“He’s never quiet.” Nikki leans over, her shoulder pressing into Jackson’s as she looks at him, smiling. It’s like seeing Lydia there with her red hair, but the ease of expression is something he never associated with her mother. It reminds him of Stiles, the way her grin shifts suddenly, bright and open, and he finds himself searching for something of Stiles in her features, even though he knows that’s not probable.
Lydia was lucky with Nikki; she never wanted anyone to know the father of her child, and Nikki looks like nothing more than a near-clone of her mother. It’s as if Lydia planned it, and Jackson sometimes wonders if she did.
Nikki pokes him. Her eyebrow goes up, almost mirroring the way Amanda looked at him, only this time it’s questioning. Waiting. Jackson answers by looking past her to where Caleb sits, their hands linked beneath the table, and Nikki flushes and looks away.
Two can play that game. If she wants to prod her fathers back together, Jackson can poke her back about her boyfriend. At least it keeps his teenage daughter from interfering in the love life he doesn’t have.
“Jackson doesn’t have a boyfriend.” Angie’s voice rises clearly, and Jackson gives her a startled look, not sure how the hell that came up while he wasn’t paying attention. Scott looks amused, and Allison hides her smile behind her fingertips. Stiles just scowls.
“Fine. Girlfriend.” He glances at Jackson. “I was just saying that whoever you’re dating should be invited out. If you’re staying.”
Somehow in the last few minutes, Stiles has gone from smiling and at ease to tense and withdrawn, and Jackson wants to know what the hell was said. He presses his lips thinly together under that dark regard. “I’m not dating anyone.”
“Papa doesn’t date,” Nikki offers, tone light. “I asked him about it, and he said he doesn’t have time for relationships.” Stiles winces when she speaks and Jackson has a feeling that Amanda’s not the only one kicking people under the table. “Don’t get mean, Dad. If you want to know something about Papa’s life, just ask him. You were in a much better mood last night.”
“Talking to-” Jackson cuts off quickly when the kick comes, far more than a light tap against his shin. Stiles glares daggers at him and Jackson remembers that Nikki knows nothing. Considering her mother’s heritage, Jackson doesn’t think that’s wise, but he hasn’t filled in the blanks that Stiles has left. It wasn’t his to do, and even now, he’s not sure he should. It would do more damage than good, he suspects. He shakes his head. “It was easier last night, with just the two of us talking.”
“You got along,” Nikki says quietly, heartbeat skipping for a moment, and Jackson sees the faint motion as she squeezes Caleb’s hand tightly. “You had an entire dinner without fighting. Dad got home late.”
Stiles won’t meet his gaze, so Jackson watches him instead. Even though he knows everyone is looking at them, observing their standoff, he watches his ex-husband and he drinks in the details. The way Stiles’s long fingers curl against his cheek, a familiar nervous habit of fingertips tapping against skin. Jackson’s gaze travels along the muscles and veins that line his hands and wrist, the wiry strength he can see still lies in those arms. His face is sharper than Jackson remembers, although the core of his body seems softer. No less strong, though.
No less attractive than it used to be.
“Don’t make it more than it is, Nik,” Stiles says quietly. Jackson’s heart thumps and he catches the look Scott gives him, quiet and assessing and full of hurt him and I will end you.
“We’re doing our best to not argue.” Jackson fights to keep everything even and calm, to not let anything escape. “I came here for you, and I’m still here for you.” He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. “I’m staying. I gave my two weeks notice, so I have to go back and clean up, but I’m moving back to Beacon Hills.”
Stiles stands so quickly the table shakes, everyone reaching out to steady it, Caleb catching a glass before it spills on Nikki. “That is not the kind of decision you get to just make, Jackson.”
“It’s my life.” Jackson keeps his voice low. “I’m looking for an apartment and I’m going to be part of Nikki’s life now. This way it’ll be right under your needing-to-know-everything eyes rather than her sneaking around to call me. I’m not asking for custody. I’m not asking for anything except permission to talk to my own daughter.”
Stiles takes a step back, and for a moment Jackson swears he sees a flash of hurt in those amber eyes before they go shuttered. “I’m not hungry any more. Nik, do me a favor and clean up after everyone’s done.”
“I’ll help,” Allison murmurs, and Amanda adds her agreement.
Jackson drops his gaze to his plate. There’s a part of him that thinks he shouldn’t have come back, shouldn’t have opened this can of worms. But Nikki’s worth it.
And no matter what he does, he can’t forget Stiles’s and his hands, those long fingers, the way they used to touch… the makeup sex used to be brilliant after fights.
He curls his hand around the fork and forces himself to eat. Around him conversation slowly fills the empty space left by Stiles, and there is a small sense of normalcy about it all. Whatever normal is now.