fic: ties that bind
title: ties that bind
rated: pg
pairing: gen/derek/jackson
note: written for the teenwolfkink prompt Derek-Jackson Related!
Jackson finds out that Derek is his cousin. aka, we know that Jackson is adopted so let's say that he was originally a Hale. How does Derek deal with learning that a member of his family is still alive and how does Jackson feel now that he knows the truth of his parentage?
Real life tragedies have a way of starting myth, legends, and dares that mask as rites of passage and the Hale house soon became one. Jackson was thirteen the first time he'd seen the Hale house but he knew the story, and when the older kids of his youth group pushed him into the yard, Jackson dusted himself off and walked to the front steps.
He'd stood in the shadows of the dead house waiting for the nerve to climb up and touch it. It was the dead of winter but Jackson had felt hot, hot and sweaty beneath his heavy coat as he spread his palm across the door. The whispering stopped the second everyone heard the mournful crack of the door opening and Jackson stepping inside.
The second time Jackson didn't see the Hale house as much as he was thrown into the walls. They splintered on impact sending the scent of ash and quiet horror into the air. Jackson groaned, dizzy with the same heated sickness, dread racing down through his body at the sight of his crossbow sliding across the floor. The way his heartbeat quickened fooled him into believing there was no time to reach the corner. The distance equaled miles instead of three short feet. He couldn't outrun the twisted figure hulking over him, couldn't escape the strange eyes and the claws swiping down toward him. But then there was Derek, heavy and foreboding and saving him.
Jackson had staggered to his feet, smart mouth winning out over his natural inclination to rejoin the fray. "Does this mean I owe you now?"
Derek surprised him when he said, "No. But be more careful. I can’t lose anyone else."
He'd thought it was about being a pack, being one. Jackson knew different now.
His dad once told him that family wasn't about being related to a group of people. It was about love and trust and how you related to them. That feeling you get when there are pancakes just for you was family. The way he still searched the crowd for his parents’ smiles before he hit the fields was family. Derek handing him a hammer and nails from the first time to today’s eighth, sends the same ache through his chest. This was family.
There's blood between them. There’s something uniquely Hale in the way Derek's cheeks split during a rare smile that Jackson can see when he looks in the mirror cataloging the few visible traits he shares with another person. They shared a stubborn tenacity. Both he and Derek cock their heads to look at the sky during a break the same way and their left index finger lists to the right when they point. Jackson is part of something now, something greater, a history that unravels with every halting story Derek tells him about the Hales, about Jackson's family.
They are family.
The knowledge is still new and fragile between them. He had questions that couldn't be answered no matter how he sometimes railed and pleaded. Derek remained secretive and moody conditioned to be alone and answer to know one for so many years. His anger was real, his sorry tangible and sometimes the divide between them was wider than Cooper’s Ravine, something neither of them knew how to cross. But Jackson had a debt and now he had blood, and he would take the awkward sound of “cousin” from Derek's lips each and every time while they rebuild the Hale legacy.
:: 582
title: type a or type b?
rated: pg13
pairing: derek/jackson-ish
warning: possible spoilers for season2 episode 4
"So did you find anything on the tape."
Danny sucks in a deep breath. It had taken him nearly twenty-four hours to figure out a way to say this, but with Jackson's eyes wide and hopeful like that all the tactful phrases he'd worked on flew out the window. "You're gonna need to sit down."
"Just tell me, Danny. Did you find anything?"
“Kind of, yeah. I did.”
“Did you see anything.”
“Yeah, but. It was really. Jackson, I don’t know.”
“If you found something just. Just tell me, man.” Jackson looks as nervous as he’d ever seen him, jaw tightly clenched, eyes wide and blue, hands tightening on the straps of his bag. “Tell me what you saw.”
Just do it, just do it, just say it.
“Danny.”
"Yeah. Right. So I saw someone climb into the window and give you a blow job."
"What?" Jackson head cocks to the side and shakes like there's pool water stuck in his ear. Or maybe it’s the mental image that Danny still struggles against. "Danny. What the fuck?"
"You ask me to look at the video and I do and there's twenty minutes of footage cut from the card but not from the camera and. Some guy climbed in through the window and sucked you off, man."
Jackson's skin pales. "What?"
"You ready to sit down now?"
"Yeah. Yeah." Jackson's arms shake, hands, fingers, lips, everything as he slides onto the bench.
"Good, because there's more."
"There's more?"
"Yeah." Danny licks his lips. "I think it was Stiles' cousin. You know," he adds when Jackson stares at him blankly, "Miguel."
Jackson's face goes blank to horrified white, and then pink. "Are you sure?"
Careful to keep all thoughts of how many times he watched the clip out of his mind, Danny meets Jackson's gaze steadily. "I'm very sure. I guess. I guess you really are everyone's type."
/end zing!
:: 316
rated: pg
pairing: gen/derek/jackson
note: written for the teenwolfkink prompt Derek-Jackson Related!
Jackson finds out that Derek is his cousin. aka, we know that Jackson is adopted so let's say that he was originally a Hale. How does Derek deal with learning that a member of his family is still alive and how does Jackson feel now that he knows the truth of his parentage?
Real life tragedies have a way of starting myth, legends, and dares that mask as rites of passage and the Hale house soon became one. Jackson was thirteen the first time he'd seen the Hale house but he knew the story, and when the older kids of his youth group pushed him into the yard, Jackson dusted himself off and walked to the front steps.
He'd stood in the shadows of the dead house waiting for the nerve to climb up and touch it. It was the dead of winter but Jackson had felt hot, hot and sweaty beneath his heavy coat as he spread his palm across the door. The whispering stopped the second everyone heard the mournful crack of the door opening and Jackson stepping inside.
The second time Jackson didn't see the Hale house as much as he was thrown into the walls. They splintered on impact sending the scent of ash and quiet horror into the air. Jackson groaned, dizzy with the same heated sickness, dread racing down through his body at the sight of his crossbow sliding across the floor. The way his heartbeat quickened fooled him into believing there was no time to reach the corner. The distance equaled miles instead of three short feet. He couldn't outrun the twisted figure hulking over him, couldn't escape the strange eyes and the claws swiping down toward him. But then there was Derek, heavy and foreboding and saving him.
Jackson had staggered to his feet, smart mouth winning out over his natural inclination to rejoin the fray. "Does this mean I owe you now?"
Derek surprised him when he said, "No. But be more careful. I can’t lose anyone else."
He'd thought it was about being a pack, being one. Jackson knew different now.
His dad once told him that family wasn't about being related to a group of people. It was about love and trust and how you related to them. That feeling you get when there are pancakes just for you was family. The way he still searched the crowd for his parents’ smiles before he hit the fields was family. Derek handing him a hammer and nails from the first time to today’s eighth, sends the same ache through his chest. This was family.
There's blood between them. There’s something uniquely Hale in the way Derek's cheeks split during a rare smile that Jackson can see when he looks in the mirror cataloging the few visible traits he shares with another person. They shared a stubborn tenacity. Both he and Derek cock their heads to look at the sky during a break the same way and their left index finger lists to the right when they point. Jackson is part of something now, something greater, a history that unravels with every halting story Derek tells him about the Hales, about Jackson's family.
They are family.
The knowledge is still new and fragile between them. He had questions that couldn't be answered no matter how he sometimes railed and pleaded. Derek remained secretive and moody conditioned to be alone and answer to know one for so many years. His anger was real, his sorry tangible and sometimes the divide between them was wider than Cooper’s Ravine, something neither of them knew how to cross. But Jackson had a debt and now he had blood, and he would take the awkward sound of “cousin” from Derek's lips each and every time while they rebuild the Hale legacy.
:: 582
title: type a or type b?
rated: pg13
pairing: derek/jackson-ish
warning: possible spoilers for season2 episode 4
"So did you find anything on the tape."
Danny sucks in a deep breath. It had taken him nearly twenty-four hours to figure out a way to say this, but with Jackson's eyes wide and hopeful like that all the tactful phrases he'd worked on flew out the window. "You're gonna need to sit down."
"Just tell me, Danny. Did you find anything?"
“Kind of, yeah. I did.”
“Did you see anything.”
“Yeah, but. It was really. Jackson, I don’t know.”
“If you found something just. Just tell me, man.” Jackson looks as nervous as he’d ever seen him, jaw tightly clenched, eyes wide and blue, hands tightening on the straps of his bag. “Tell me what you saw.”
Just do it, just do it, just say it.
“Danny.”
"Yeah. Right. So I saw someone climb into the window and give you a blow job."
"What?" Jackson head cocks to the side and shakes like there's pool water stuck in his ear. Or maybe it’s the mental image that Danny still struggles against. "Danny. What the fuck?"
"You ask me to look at the video and I do and there's twenty minutes of footage cut from the card but not from the camera and. Some guy climbed in through the window and sucked you off, man."
Jackson's skin pales. "What?"
"You ready to sit down now?"
"Yeah. Yeah." Jackson's arms shake, hands, fingers, lips, everything as he slides onto the bench.
"Good, because there's more."
"There's more?"
"Yeah." Danny licks his lips. "I think it was Stiles' cousin. You know," he adds when Jackson stares at him blankly, "Miguel."
Jackson's face goes blank to horrified white, and then pink. "Are you sure?"
Careful to keep all thoughts of how many times he watched the clip out of his mind, Danny meets Jackson's gaze steadily. "I'm very sure. I guess. I guess you really are everyone's type."
/end zing!
:: 316