I Just Want to Stay Where It’s Safe (With You)
Author: tryslora
Title: I Just Want to Stay Where It’s Safe (With You)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: Stiles/Jackson
Character/s: Stiles, Jackson, Sheriff
Summary: The sheriff decides that it’s time to have a little talk with Jackson about his family.
Warnings: mpreg, off-screen underage sexuality, teen pregnancy
Word Count: 1117
Prompt: #26 - Hiding
Author's Notes: I was going to write a story about hiding the truth from the pack, but um, this came out instead. Oops? This is part of the series Sex Is a Conversation Between You and Me. As always, I do not own the characters or world of Teen Wolf, but I love to play with them.
“Jackson.”
He stops when he hears the sheriff’s voice, back going stiff. He’s damned sure the sheriff wasn’t home when he arrived, and he can’t believe he didn’t hear him come in. In Jackson’s defense, he was occupied until about five minutes ago. But if he’d had any idea they weren’t alone, he’d be wearing more than just a pair of jeans while padding around the Stilinski kitchen in bare feet.
Jackson turns slowly, head tilted, back stiff. “Sir,” he says.
The sheriff gives him a pointed look, then gestures at the kitchen table. “Sit down, son. We’re going to talk.”
He can’t really say no, so Jackson lowers himself slowly onto one of the kitchen chairs. “We’re being safe. Sir.”
The sheriff pinches the bridge of his nose tightly, elbow leaning against the table once he sits, head bowed. “At this point, I don’t think you can actually do any more damage, considering, but that’s good to know. Even though I’d still prefer the abstinence option. Do I have to put mountain ash around this house? I’d hoped to give you a haven, not lock you out.”
Jackson can’t stop the heat from rising under his skin. Stiles isn’t the first person he’s fucked, but he’s the first one whose parents have known about it. The first time he’s had a conversation about it with the father of his partner. He hasn’t even talked to his own parents about this. “I appreciate it,” he says quietly. He doesn’t want to promise not to have sex with Stiles, even though he knows that’s what the sheriff wants to hear. Because he can’t lie to him.
“Just remember I have a gun,” the sheriff mutters. “But this isn’t actually what I wanted to talk to you about.” He lowers his hand and the look he gives Jackson is patient and kind, open and a bit worried. “Have you told your parents?”
“Which part?” Jackson asks, although the answer to any possible option is no. He avoids the question with an honest observation. “We don’t have the kind of relationship you and Stiles do. Sir.”
“They are still your parents-”
“Legally, yes, but not biologically.” Jackson’s hands curl into tight fists, pressed down against his thighs. “And they don’t pay much attention to what I do. They throw money at me and hope I’ll leave them alone. They don’t want to know what’s going on in my life, and this? This is not going to help anything. Do you really think they’re going to want to know that their son’s a werewolf, and that he’s fucking a guy, and that he got that guy pregnant somehow? Do you think they’re going to be happy to be grandparents when I’m still in high school? They’ll send me away. They will do anything to make it all go away.”
“Sounds like they’d notice you,” the sheriff says quietly, and Jackson can’t help the small snort, because yeah, that might be true.
They are silent for a long moment together, Jackson staring at his twisted hands, unable to look up under the sheriff’s regard.
“You can’t keep hiding, son,” the sheriff says quietly.
Jackson focuses in on that last word, grabbing on and holding tight. He realizes that the sheriff said it earlier, and maybe he says it to all the guys Stiles knows. Maybe he’s said it to Scott a hundred times, as close as Scott and Stiles are. But that word holds significance to Jackson and he clings to it as he nods slowly.
“If you need someplace to go after-”
Jackson’s head snaps up. “You’d do that, sir?”
“We have a guest room.” The sheriff’s tone is firm. “And you would sleep in there, no other options. There would be rules, and I would expect you both to adhere to them, far better than you have been. I might not be a werewolf, but I am a sheriff and I am far more observant than either of you has given me credit for. So yes, if it comes to that, you can stay here, or I’m sure Melissa McCall would make space for you. I know it’s not the same as being home, or having family-”
“It’s fine,” Jackson says hurriedly. Because home is a huge house full of expensive things that have been the only comfort he’s ever had for a very long time. And while he doesn’t want to lose access to the Whittemore fortune-he likes money, after all-he can admit that having a place to go, a fall-back plan, is a comfort right now.
“Jackson!” Footsteps clatter down the stairs, skidding to a halt in the doorway to the kitchen. Stiles throws his hands up. “Whoa. Dad. You’re here. I mean, where else would you be, if it’s after work, but still, you’re here. You’re not killing Jackson, are you? Do I need to check you for wolfsbane? I swear it’s all innocent. Just some physics homework.”
“Which is why you’re wearing your pajama pants.”
Jackson smirks at the sheriff’s dry tone, because that’s all Stiles has on, low slung, hanging just under the gentle curve of his stomach.
“They’re all that’s comfortable!” Stiles protests. “Trust me, even if Jackson weren’t here, I’d be wearing them. I’d wear them to school if it wouldn’t get me even more weird looks. Trying to maintain the whole weird is normal vibe every day is hard enough.”
Jackson nudges out an empty chair with his foot, and Stiles takes it, turning it so he’s sitting closer to Jackson and facing the sheriff. Stiles glances between them and seems to deflate. “This looks too serious if he’s not killing you. What’s going on?”
“We’re inviting my parents over for dinner.” Jackson makes the decision then, sure the sheriff will go along with it. “It might be a long night. We’ve got a lot to talk to them about.”
“I’ll order pizza,” the sheriff offers, reaching for the phone.
Stiles snickers, and Jackson presses his leg against Stiles’s thigh. He remembers the pizza, and their first time doing anything in Stiles’s bed. “Maybe not pizza,” Jackson says, and Stiles snorts a little louder. “There’s this great place they like, really good curry. Maybe you could call my parents, invite them over, and Stiles and I will go pick up the food.”
“Get dressed first.”
And just like that, it’s arranged. No more recrimination, no reminders not to make out on the way, nothing but a simple statement and acceptance.
Stiles offers his hand and Jackson takes it, wondering when this became his life, and wondering how everything is going to change again once his parents know the truth.
Title: I Just Want to Stay Where It’s Safe (With You)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: Stiles/Jackson
Character/s: Stiles, Jackson, Sheriff
Summary: The sheriff decides that it’s time to have a little talk with Jackson about his family.
Warnings: mpreg, off-screen underage sexuality, teen pregnancy
Word Count: 1117
Prompt: #26 - Hiding
Author's Notes: I was going to write a story about hiding the truth from the pack, but um, this came out instead. Oops? This is part of the series Sex Is a Conversation Between You and Me. As always, I do not own the characters or world of Teen Wolf, but I love to play with them.
“Jackson.”
He stops when he hears the sheriff’s voice, back going stiff. He’s damned sure the sheriff wasn’t home when he arrived, and he can’t believe he didn’t hear him come in. In Jackson’s defense, he was occupied until about five minutes ago. But if he’d had any idea they weren’t alone, he’d be wearing more than just a pair of jeans while padding around the Stilinski kitchen in bare feet.
Jackson turns slowly, head tilted, back stiff. “Sir,” he says.
The sheriff gives him a pointed look, then gestures at the kitchen table. “Sit down, son. We’re going to talk.”
He can’t really say no, so Jackson lowers himself slowly onto one of the kitchen chairs. “We’re being safe. Sir.”
The sheriff pinches the bridge of his nose tightly, elbow leaning against the table once he sits, head bowed. “At this point, I don’t think you can actually do any more damage, considering, but that’s good to know. Even though I’d still prefer the abstinence option. Do I have to put mountain ash around this house? I’d hoped to give you a haven, not lock you out.”
Jackson can’t stop the heat from rising under his skin. Stiles isn’t the first person he’s fucked, but he’s the first one whose parents have known about it. The first time he’s had a conversation about it with the father of his partner. He hasn’t even talked to his own parents about this. “I appreciate it,” he says quietly. He doesn’t want to promise not to have sex with Stiles, even though he knows that’s what the sheriff wants to hear. Because he can’t lie to him.
“Just remember I have a gun,” the sheriff mutters. “But this isn’t actually what I wanted to talk to you about.” He lowers his hand and the look he gives Jackson is patient and kind, open and a bit worried. “Have you told your parents?”
“Which part?” Jackson asks, although the answer to any possible option is no. He avoids the question with an honest observation. “We don’t have the kind of relationship you and Stiles do. Sir.”
“They are still your parents-”
“Legally, yes, but not biologically.” Jackson’s hands curl into tight fists, pressed down against his thighs. “And they don’t pay much attention to what I do. They throw money at me and hope I’ll leave them alone. They don’t want to know what’s going on in my life, and this? This is not going to help anything. Do you really think they’re going to want to know that their son’s a werewolf, and that he’s fucking a guy, and that he got that guy pregnant somehow? Do you think they’re going to be happy to be grandparents when I’m still in high school? They’ll send me away. They will do anything to make it all go away.”
“Sounds like they’d notice you,” the sheriff says quietly, and Jackson can’t help the small snort, because yeah, that might be true.
They are silent for a long moment together, Jackson staring at his twisted hands, unable to look up under the sheriff’s regard.
“You can’t keep hiding, son,” the sheriff says quietly.
Jackson focuses in on that last word, grabbing on and holding tight. He realizes that the sheriff said it earlier, and maybe he says it to all the guys Stiles knows. Maybe he’s said it to Scott a hundred times, as close as Scott and Stiles are. But that word holds significance to Jackson and he clings to it as he nods slowly.
“If you need someplace to go after-”
Jackson’s head snaps up. “You’d do that, sir?”
“We have a guest room.” The sheriff’s tone is firm. “And you would sleep in there, no other options. There would be rules, and I would expect you both to adhere to them, far better than you have been. I might not be a werewolf, but I am a sheriff and I am far more observant than either of you has given me credit for. So yes, if it comes to that, you can stay here, or I’m sure Melissa McCall would make space for you. I know it’s not the same as being home, or having family-”
“It’s fine,” Jackson says hurriedly. Because home is a huge house full of expensive things that have been the only comfort he’s ever had for a very long time. And while he doesn’t want to lose access to the Whittemore fortune-he likes money, after all-he can admit that having a place to go, a fall-back plan, is a comfort right now.
“Jackson!” Footsteps clatter down the stairs, skidding to a halt in the doorway to the kitchen. Stiles throws his hands up. “Whoa. Dad. You’re here. I mean, where else would you be, if it’s after work, but still, you’re here. You’re not killing Jackson, are you? Do I need to check you for wolfsbane? I swear it’s all innocent. Just some physics homework.”
“Which is why you’re wearing your pajama pants.”
Jackson smirks at the sheriff’s dry tone, because that’s all Stiles has on, low slung, hanging just under the gentle curve of his stomach.
“They’re all that’s comfortable!” Stiles protests. “Trust me, even if Jackson weren’t here, I’d be wearing them. I’d wear them to school if it wouldn’t get me even more weird looks. Trying to maintain the whole weird is normal vibe every day is hard enough.”
Jackson nudges out an empty chair with his foot, and Stiles takes it, turning it so he’s sitting closer to Jackson and facing the sheriff. Stiles glances between them and seems to deflate. “This looks too serious if he’s not killing you. What’s going on?”
“We’re inviting my parents over for dinner.” Jackson makes the decision then, sure the sheriff will go along with it. “It might be a long night. We’ve got a lot to talk to them about.”
“I’ll order pizza,” the sheriff offers, reaching for the phone.
Stiles snickers, and Jackson presses his leg against Stiles’s thigh. He remembers the pizza, and their first time doing anything in Stiles’s bed. “Maybe not pizza,” Jackson says, and Stiles snorts a little louder. “There’s this great place they like, really good curry. Maybe you could call my parents, invite them over, and Stiles and I will go pick up the food.”
“Get dressed first.”
And just like that, it’s arranged. No more recrimination, no reminders not to make out on the way, nothing but a simple statement and acceptance.
Stiles offers his hand and Jackson takes it, wondering when this became his life, and wondering how everything is going to change again once his parents know the truth.