AN: Hey! I did this a while ago. For a picture of the puppy, a link to the song that inspired me to write this (also the title of the fic), and extra notes, go to my Archive Of Our Own! A quick google of "putputters ao3" will get you there. The origin of the puppy's name and other little facts about the story are listed in the notes on the version at ao3 (pretty much the same, just formatted a bit differently, and obv. having notes lol). :)

Editing on here was a pita! D: If FF has problems the next time I attempt to upload something, I'm just not gonna upload to it.

There were whimpers coming from inside the large cardboard box in Stiles' hands. He and Scott peered into the box and the puppy inside yipped, trying to climb out, but only managing to get its paws onto Stiles' chest.

Stiles turned to Scott and whispered, "Dude, this is so wrong."

"It's a baby bull terrier; I think it's kind of cute," Scott whispered back. "What's wrong with it?"

Stiles spluttered. He put the box down and hissed, "I'm not talking about the puppy, Scott, I'm talking about the tag on the ribbon around its neck that says, 'To Stiles, From Jackson'!"

Scott was unconcerned. "Yeah? That's nice of him." He sat down next to the box and petted the puppy, who rolled over, exposing its belly for scratches.

Stiles paced in a circle and tugged at his brown hair with both hands. "No, it's not! I mean, yes it is, but- Ugh! Okay, yeah, so I've been sending him emails for a few months, but they were stupid and mostly jokes! He didn't even respond to them! When I sent 'dude, a dog would be amazing to have' two weeks ago, I didn't mean I wanted one! I was on Youtube, enjoying funny dog videos! You remember that night, right?!"

Scott nodded. "Mhmm. You kept linking me to that one where the dog skateboards." Then he turned to Stiles and an eyebrow rose as he said, "Actually, I find it weirder that you've been having a one-sided conversation with Jackson for months."

"I was bored, okay? You know me. Anyway, this seems suspicious, doesn't it seem suspicious to you?" He stopped pacing and pulled Scott's hand away from the puppy, who whined at the loss of contact, and eyed the furry ball of cuteness. "Maybe it'll bite your hand off when you finally get comfy around it. Jackson could totally train a dog to do that! How did he even send me a dog from England?!"

"Stiles, he's rich." Scott rolled his eyes and then frowned. "And nobody would think of doing that kind of thing. Besides, it's so cute! Look at that face, it wouldn't harm a fly!" He reached his hand towards the box, but Stiles smacked it away.

"Shut up! You never know, Beacon Hills is full of weird crap! And Peter would! Peter would definitely train cute-but-evil dogs to send to his enemies!"

"I think you're over-imagining things, Stiles. Besides, Peter's in the Amazon doing some magicky stuff. Even if he does creepy stuff, it's nowhere near us." He looked longingly at the puppy. Then he turned to Stiles and sighed. "He's just a puppy, relax." He picked up all of the PetSmart boxes that were on the porch and walked through the front door. "Bring him inside!"

Stiles just stared at the puppy as if it would explode if he took his eyes off of it. Its- His fur was pretty much all white, but with a few black spots on it. One on his ear, one on his nose, and one surrounding his eye, as far as Stiles could tell.

The puppy whined and scratched at the box, eager to get out. He stopped and looked up to catch Stiles' eyes. It seemed like his eyes got twice as huge as he whimpered and barked, trying to get Stiles to pick him up.

"No, don't look at me like that. I get enough puppy eyes from Scott," Stiles squeezed his eyes shut and ignored the "I heard that!" from Scott. He dared to open them slowly and was sucked in by big, glossy eyes. He was so screwed.

"Hurry up, Stiles!" Scott called from the kitchen.

"Alright, alright, calm down Wolf Boy. Just lemme-" Stiles cut off as he awkwardly picked the puppy up and patted his head. The dog howled and turned to nip at his fingers affectionately and Stiles' restraint broke. He cooed at the dog, "Hey there, boy, you're so cuuute. So sweet!" He looked for a name on the tag and on the box, but there was nothing. He kicked the box out of the way and shut the door after he walked inside. "What should I call you?"

To: jwhittemore37

Subject: Why?! I was joking!

Message:

Thanks for the puppy.

When Stiles checked his email the next day, he'd gotten his first response from Jackson.

To: sstilinski24

Subject: Re: Why?! I was joking!

Message:

ur welcome

"Al!" Stiles called out the back door. He'd let the dog out to pee, but it'd been nearly twenty minutes and he hadn't heard the scratches on the back door that usually signalled Al was finished. He called for the puppy again, but to no avail. Stiles sighed, got his sneakers on, closed the door, and walked into the woods behind his backyard.

It'd only been two months since he first got the dog, but he was completely smitten. He started taking pictures of Al and filming every adorable [and sometimes naughty] moment. He'd of course sent them all to Jackson. Even a few puppy-and-me selfies were sent. Stiles' profile image for every site he was on and every app he downloaded became one of those photos.

It had rained the night before, so Stiles was stomping around in mud and imagining his dog was probably all dirty.

"Al! C'mon buddy! Time to go home! You were just supposed to pee, not go on a walk by yourself!"

Out of nowhere, what felt like a dodgeball barreled into him. It knocked out his breath and knocked him over. He looked down to see Al, who was yipping happily, completely covered in mud, twigs, leaves, and other woodsy things. The mud had dried and caked and his baby looked like a hot mess.

Stiles grinned. "You look happy! And like a monster from Where The Wild Things Are." He scratched behind Al's ears, getting mud underneath his fingernails, and wiped his hands on his pants. Al was rubbing dirt all over his shirt, so Stiles nudged him away as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

Stiles clicked record and crouched to film Al, who was running around in circles, chasing his tail. "Al! Say hello to Jackson!" Stiles began howling and Al joined in, tail wagging energetically. "Okay, now it's time for a bath. Bye bye, yes?" Al ran up to the camera and barked a few times in agreement before turning away and sniffing the ground.

Stiles turned the camera on his phone towards himself and smiled. "Later, Wolfy Whittemore!" He ended the recording, put his phone away, and called for Al to follow him as he walked back to his house.

He never noticed the figure watching him from further into the woods. The figure that lingered for a bit, after he left, before it disappeared into the trees.

To: jwhittemore37

Subject: I'm dog crazy now; it's all your fault.

Message:

I love Al so much. At first I was suspicious (you should know, I've sent you like 10 "plz tell me there's no evil motive for the puppy" emails), but he's probably the best gift I've received ever. Even Dad loves him! Alpine Coconut Stilinski is an official member of the Stilinski household! He spent time alone in the woods today; not the best idea.

[attachment of vid with muddyal and stiles]

To: sstilinski24

Subject: Re: I'm dog crazy now; it's all your fault.

Message:

wth kind of name is that? he's a bull terrier puppy, not some freak show

[attachment of pic with jackson's face with a WTF expression]

To: jwhittemore37

Subject: Re: Re: I'm dog crazy now; it's all your fault.

Message:

Shuddap! Alpine is a perfectly good name! Alpine white like the European mountains! Coconut was a joke by Scott that never went away, so now it's officially Al's middle name. You jealous that he's so cute and mine and his last name isn't Whittemore? If you want to have joint custody, my surname's coming first. Alpine Coconut Stilinski-Whittemore. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?

Also, your face. It's nice. As always.

Bastard.

To: sstilinski24

Subject: ur an idiot

Message:

no one w/ the name "alpine coconut" is going to be a whittemore. nice try stilinski.

stilinski-whittemore implies that we'd be in a relationship or used to be. idiot.

ur still ugly stilinski. esp covered in mud

To: jwhittemore37

Subject: Re: ur an idiot

Message:

Oh. Well, we can start now if you want. Or maybe it started two months ago. I don't think

people just give each other dogs like that anyway. You know you want me, Whittemore.

Come get me.

[attachment pic of stiles winking]

Stiles drawled his best friend's name. "Scott, help me out man!"

Scott was looking at Al on the examination table. It was time for a checkup and Stiles had Scott look at his dog, rather than Deaton (the veterinarian-cum-wizard) because every time he talked to Dr. Deaton, he'd get vague sayings and advices from him. Like a really annoying walking, talking fortune cookie. Scott was basically training to be a veterinarian anyway, seeing as he was constantly working at Deaton's, so this was good practice.

"With what, Stiles?" Scott had already finished the check up and grabbed the doggy nail clippers to begin trimming Al's claws.

Al yawned and closed his eyes, taking a little nap as he had his mani-pedi.

Stiles was sitting on the desk nearby, kicking his legs lightly. He sniffed. "When I got Al, Jackson started responding more to my emails. Pretty much every time I sent him a photo or video or just a lame message about daily stuff. He suddenly stopped responding two weeks ago, and I'm wondering if I've been too nosy and all up in his face or something."

Between the sounds of the snips of the clippers, Scott said, "No. I don't. Think so. Allison and I. Used to do that. All the time!" He looked sad for a second, probably remembering their break up, but shook it off. After a few more snips, he turned to Stiles and asked, "Unless... Did your last message scare him off?"

Stiles opened up the message he sent before Jackson didn't respond all of a sudden and looked it over. It was a picture of him winking and the message was basically him flirting with Jackson. Maybe Jackson wasn't okay with that? But Stiles was. Whoa, where had that come from? His face flushed. Then his face fell in his hands and he groaned.

"Stiles?"

"I flirted with him before he stopped responding. And it was like legit flirting, bro. None of that 'I was just joking' crap. Oh my god. I think I like Jackson Whittemore. But he probably doesn't like me like that." Stiles groaned again. "I always look forward to sending him things and getting messages back from him. You know! You've been helping me with documenting Al's adorable glory for Jackson!"

Scott had finished trimming all of Al's claws during Stiles' monologue and was just leaning against the exam table, smirking at his best friend. "Just call him or something. Love is worth the international phone bill."

But Stiles was already in freak-out mode. "I don't even have his number! I only have his email because of that time we did a lab together in Chem." He sighed, hunched over, and rested his chin on his palm, the arm of which was propped up on his knee.

Scott rolled his eyes. "Go ask Danny. If there's anyone who has Jackson's contact details, it's him. And if not, you can always ask him to hack around the internet for the detes."

"Please tell me that I did not just hear you say 'detes'. Oh my god." Stiles sighed again, but then he looked both hopeful and terrified as he turned to Scott. "But, what if it's Lydia all over again? Well, not exactly that, because she basically ignored me for forever until she got involved in our werewolf problems. Even then, she only tolerated me. But y'know what I mean. What if he doesn't wanna talk to me anymore, or like, what if he comes to take Al away because he's disgusted by the fact that I would flirt with him? By the fact that I like him?"

Scott walked over to the desk and pulled Stiles down for a hug. "Stiles, the guy got you a puppy. He likes you, I'm sure of it. Just make the initiative to look for him to see if it... if it could turn out to be something amazing."

Stiles had so many bro-feels, he didn't know what to do. His brows furrowed from all the overwhelming feelings and he just squeezed Scott tightly in return. Scott always gave the best hugs. He grinned as they ended the hug. "When did you get so mature?"

"You know exactly when, you were there," Scott said. He shook his head in amusement.

Stiles laughed. "That's right, when you got the tattoo. Mr. 'I want the tattoo because it's like an open wound'. You seem fine now compared to before. A lot more... Manly."

Scott punched him lightly on the arm and smirked. "I've grown up a bit. Things were crazy the last two years because we were unprepared in all ways. I feel ready now, you know?"

Stiles' hand squeezed Scott's shoulder in understanding. He nodded. "I was extra fidgety and scared all of the time. But now feels right. Al helped with that too. When I'm in a mood, he's always there to cheer me up and it reminds me that our lives don't have to be filled with supernatural bullshit."

"We're young. We have time to grow and experience more than this Sunnydale, hellmouth lifestyle. Hell, even creepy, ol' Peter has time.." Scott laughed.

Stiles wrapped an arm around Scott's shoulder and Scott did the same.

Stiles jumped from the desk and brushed the dust off his jeans. "So... Burgers, curly fries, and milkshakes later?" He walked towards Al to pick him up and cradled the sleeping puppy to his chest, his fingers stroking the soft fur.

Scott smiled and nodded. "Yeah. See you at the diner for dinner tonight."

Stiles grinned brightly. "Awesome."

Stiles had gotten home at 9PM-ish after dinner with Scott. Stiles' dad was doing the overnight shift, so he'd stopped by to give him a salad, fruit, tea, and some curly fries (Stiles knew when and when not to give a bit freedom when it came to his dad's diet) for dinner before he came home. He'd entered his house, turned on the lights, and looked around for Al. Usually the little rascal would be scrambling towards the front door whenever he heard Stiles or his dad come home.

"Al? Where are you, buddy?" He checked upstairs in his room and most of the rooms downstairs, but Al wasn't there.

That was when he noticed the back door was open a crack. Stiles groaned. He must've forgotten to close the door and lock it properly when he took Al out to pee. The back door was flimsy and always opened when it was unlocked and the weather was windy. Stiles zipped up his coat, grabbed a flash light, and went out the back door into the woods.

Stiles didn't know how long he was walking for, but he'd gotten pretty far into the thick of the woods. He'd called out Al's name plenty of times, to no response. The wind chilled his skin and so he buried his face into the collar of his coat, wishing he'd taken a scarf.

Stiles heard little noises as he was walking, but he thought it was the wind or the normal sounds of nature. He stopped abruptly and turned to flash the light behind him. Nothing. He sniffed and turned around to keep walking.

"Alpine Coconut Stilinski, if you don't come to Daddy, I'm going to be really mad!" he called out into the woods. He stopped and slowly spun in a circle, shining the light into the darkness.

As he turned around, he didn't notice a figure behind him bending down to let something run from its hands out onto the ground.

Stiles heard barking and turned around to see Al running towards him. He smiled, rubbing his nose, red from the cold. "Hey, Al! C'mere!" He opened his arms and crouched down and the puppy jumped into his hug. Stiles laughed as Al licked his cheek and nibbled at skin of his chin. Al was super happy, bouncing with excitement, just like the last couple of times he'd gotten out into the woods.

Stiles put Al down and stood up, brushing off his clothes and nodding towards the direction home. "Let's go home, yeah?" He looked up from Al and spotted glowing blue eyes about 20 feet from him in the darkness. His heart skipped a beat, he paused, and then swallowed loudly. He lifted his flashlight in front of him, but the eyes were no longer there. He took a deep breath and remembered his conversation with Scott.

He didn't want to give into his fear.

He leaned down and patted Al's head. "You'd let me know if any bad guys were here, right?" After a bark in response, he nodded and stood back up, walking as if nothing had happened. But he was alert. Ready to use his flashlight as a weapon, if needed.

He heard rustling noises, but didn't let himself turn to the sounds of the noise. Al, however, was easily distracted and sniffed the air before he barked and ran towards the sounds.

Okay, now Stiles was freaked. The noises got louder. He looked around frantically. "Al! C'mon! You're supposed to be a guard dog, you promised!" Then he heard quiet laughter behind him and his heart was racing. He turned around, whipping the flashlight up to see who was there, and his heart stopped, but only for a second. He lowered the light when he recognized who it was.

"Fuck! Why can't you werewolves ever stop being creepy and just show up in a nice way? In the way that doesn't make me almost piss myself? Thank you very much!" Stiles was bent over at the knee, catching his breath.

Al was happily running circles around the two, barking and rubbing up against both sets of legs, begging for hands to pet him. Especially from the other person.

"Stilinski, I thought you were trying to get over being scared. Or was that email just to impress me?" Jackson smirked. He stood in what looked like a nice, long coat over a suit, dress shoes, and a scarf. His blond hair was coiffed to perfection, as usual (or what Stiles considered usual from the pictures Jackson had sent him).

Stiles got himself together and stood up to punch Jackson in the chest. "You are such an ass. I thought I was in some obnoxious horror movie for a good 15 minutes. You couldn't just go, 'Hey Stiles'? What are you doing here anyway? Specifically in the woods near my house, I mean. Why the fuck are you wearing a suit in the goddamn woods? And weren't you supposed to be in England?"

Jackson rolled his eyes. "Breathe, Stilinski. I came to visit. The suit was just to remind you how low-class you are. And maybe I came here to take a walk."

Stiles' eyebrow rose. "The first two I believe. The last? No. You would go to the reserve if you wanted to take a wolfy walk, not this crappy, creepy woodsy area behind my house."

He looked down to see Al running circles around Jackson's legs. The puppy was yipping with joy, tail wagging and hitting Stiles' legs every now and then. Stiles' eyes widened as he put the pieces together. He poked Jackson in the chest. "You've been watching me. How long have you been here? Since the first time Al got into the woods, got all muddy, and came back all hyped up? That means you've been here for two weeks and you haven't told me! You dickbag! Why didn't you come see me or respond to my emails? I thought I messed everything up!"

Jackson just stared at him. His lips slowly curled into a smirk. He was two inches shorter than Stiles, but much more broad. So when he pulled Stiles into a tight hug, Stiles was a bit surprised by how much of Jackson actually surrounded him. Jackson whispered in his ear, "I wanted to see you too, idiot."

For once, Stiles was speechless. He didn't know how long they stood in the cold, hugging and with Al nipping at their ankles. But then eventually they both let go and Jackson took his hand to lead them out of the woods and back into Stiles' house.

Stiles lent Jackson some of his larger, looser clothing for the night and once they were settled in the livingroom, cuddled on the couch underneath blankets, Jackson explained everything to Stiles. Well, not in so many words, but for Jackson Whittemore, the confession of certain things was huge. Like, Jackson was always emotionally constipated (like a certain Sour Wolf they knew), so he was letting himself be pretty vulnerable with Stiles.

He admitted that he'd left to England to try to start over, but there was so much he had to get over. And while he was trying to work through his problems, Stiles' emails helped. They kept his mind off things and he said it was nice to have someone bothering to make the effort to habitually talk to him.

"By that point, everyone was done with me, except for Danny, who doesn't even know about this stuff. You and I hated each other, but you- you tried talking to me after. Normally, as if I didn't kill a bunch of- as if we were friends. After everything that happened... I liked it."

Stiles nudged Al onto Jackson's lap, so his hands had something to do (petting Alpine), and he himself scooted closer to Jackson. Jackson didn't look like he minded, in fact, he actually scooted closer to Stiles too.

"The pack I was with in England beat some sense into me." At Stiles' horrified look, he shook his head. "Not like that. They just... communicated with me properly about all of the werewolf things. They got me into werewolf bootcamp and therapy, and encouraged me to be better."

Stiles joined Jackson in petting and scratching Al. "You seem a lot more chill now. And y'know, less inclined to throw me against lockers and hold me up by my collar." He grinned and Jackson gave a small smile back.

"I'll tell you more later, but that's the gist of it." Jackson stopped petting Al, who was now asleep in his lap, and faced Stiles to stare into his eyes.

Stiles gulped.

Jackson leaned towards him and gave him a meaningful look with the most intense eyes (Stiles kind of wanted to melt right then and there). He looked around, as if to make sure no one else would overhear, and said in a low, quiet voice, "Thank you, Stiles. Your stupid messages kept me going and I grew attached to the idiot sending me random emails every other day."

Stiles felt his face flush, he averted his eyes, and spluttered. "No, no, it was all my pleasure. I'm glad you weren't annoyed by my constant messaging." He kneaded and patted the blanket on his lap nervously. Then he asked, "Why did you stop responding to me?"

Jackson turned away to clear his throat before he turned back and leaned even closer to Stiles. Stiles could feel the breath from Jackson's words on his lips. "When you sent that one message, I wanted to kiss you. I stared at the image of you winking and suddenly thought, 'fuck, I want to see him'. So I came here. But I didn't know if you were being serious and I just walked around the woods in your backyard every now and then, waiting until I got the guts to come see you."

Stiles' heartbeat was loud in his ears and his eyelids drooped halfway as he smiled. "Yeah? Now that you've finally seen me, why don't you kiss me?" he asked, sounding out of breath.

Jackson's eyes lit up and he pressed his lips to Stiles, kissing the corners of Stiles' lips before planting one on him spot on. He licked and nibbled at Stiles' lower lip until he let him in.

There was a lot of tongue-sucking, lip-biting, and saliva-swapping until they finally parted, both breathless and with reddened lips. They rested their foreheads together and just breathed.

Stiles smiled, "You so totally want me, Whittemore. I knew it."

Jackson laughed and pressed another kiss to his lips.

Jackson stayed for a month before he had to go back to London. Those four weeks were the best weeks of Stiles' life.

No one else had known Jackson was there (apart from Danny) until they'd saw the two together, out walking in town a few days after Jackson's appearance. Lydia was the first to see them. For a second, she stared blankly at Jackson, but quickly snapped out of it and gave a curt nod to them before she did a 180 on the pavement. The red curls of her hair and her matching strawberry pumps blazed in the sunlight as she stalked away.

"She's been trying to get over you," Stiles said. "She's doing pretty well."

It was hard for Stiles to watch the girl he once loved pine over Jackson. But things were pretty good lately. And he was proud of Lydia for being as strong as ever despite being thrust into the supernatural business. She was taking to researching lore and translating latin like she was born to do so.

Jackson nodded and said quietly, "I see."

Al kept tugging at the leash, so they walked over to Deaton's and visited Scott, who was working. Stiles called for his best friend and when Scott came out from the back to greet him, he blinked at the sight of Jackson beside him. Then a look of glee spread onto his face and he wrapped his arms around Jackson and Stiles, pulling them into a warm group hug. Jackson seemed a bit baffled, his eyebrows furrowed, but he didn't resist. "It's nice to see you, Jackson! How was London?"

Stiles sat down in one of the chairs across the room and played with Al as Scott and Jackson talked. He could hear whispers, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. He just scratched at the scruff of Al's coat and gave him kisses on the top of his furry head.

Al leaped onto his lap and gave him slobbery kisses back. It'd been several weeks since Stiles first got him and he was growing so big. In such a short amount of time, the puppy'd wiggled his way into Stiles' life. He couldn't even imagine how a day without Al would be like. Stiles held Al's face between his hands and stared into the puppy's large, dark eyes. Al was panting, but stood patiently still and just stared back.

"I love you. You know that right?"

Al blinked, then he barked and butted Stiles' chin with his head.

Stiles laughed and cuddled the puppy in response. "That's right, you're my good boy, aren't you?" The two nuzzled each other back and forth for a while until Jackson walked over.

"What about my hugs, Stilinski?" Jackson asked, smirking.

Stiles rolled his eyes and lifted Al up to drape him over Jackson's shoulder. "There. You don't need to ask to hug the dog you bought me." What he didn't expect was Jackson pulling him into a one-armed hug. Not that he was complaining.

"I meant you, idiot."

Stiles wrapped one arm around Jackson's waist and used the other to pat Al's side. It was warm and Stiles just felt like this was where he was supposed to be. With Jackson, Al at their side. He mumbled into Jackson's shoulder, "You don't have to ask for my hugs either, stupid."

Al howled softly and wagged his tail.

"You guys look like a family," Scott commented, with a smile, from the receptionist's desk.

Stiles pulled back a bit to look at Jackson's face for a response. He had to hold back a gasp at the soft smile that Jackson had on. Then he grinned and pecked Jackson's cheek before turning to Scott. "Stuff happened," he said and stuck his tongue out at his best friend.

Scott snorted, but rose an eyebrow knowingly. "I can see that." Then he paused, staring at a point on the wall for a second before he apologized. "Hey, sorry, Deaton's calling me from the back. I've got supplies to unload from his truck. We can catch up later, so why don't you guys go have lunch at the diner? I'll keep an eye on Al."

"'Kay. See you 'round, buddy." He waved a goodbye to his friend before he took Al off of Jackson's shoulder. He placed the puppy on the floor with a "Be good for Uncle Scotty, Alpine", and waited at the door for Jackson. He watched as Al ran around the desk, leash dragging on the floor, and hopped onto the rolling chair, dutifully sitting beside Scott.

The blond gave a nod in Scott's direction before he said his goodbyes too. "Later, McCall. Bye Al."

As they exited and started walking down the street, Stiles asked. "So... Is it weird seeing them again?"

"I expected it, so I'm not nervous or anything. Maybe a bit surprised by how they've changed though. We've only seen Lydia and McCall, but even they're enough to tell that things are different." He frowned a bit and Stiles could see him beginning to get pensive.

He took Jackson's hand in his and squeezed. "You've changed too. And for the better. You're feeling much calmer now, aren't you? No more murderous rages or douchebag-gy tendencies, right? It's a great step up from Bully Jackson."

Jackson scoffed, but squeezed Stiles' hand back. "You keep insulting me and I'll consider relapsing."

Stiles laughed and the two bantered as they walked. By the time they made it to the diner, the two were in a better mood.

Jackson stopped in his tracks, scented the air, and looked into the diner as if he was searching for someone. His eyes focused on a group of leather jacket-wearing people. "They're here."

Stiles looked all around them, ducking and tip-toeing as if it would help find who "they" were, before following Jackson's line of sight and spotting the group in the corner. It was Derek and his pack. From the looks of it, they'd spotted Jackson and him too. He rubbed his thumb over the back of Jackson's hand and asked, "You still wanna go in? We can go somewhere else if you don't feel comfortable with them. You don't have to take on seeing everyone today."

Jackson leaned in towards Stiles and nuzzled his neck (in what was probably scent-marking) for a couple of moments. "Sorry, this just... Makes me feel a bit better about going in there," he said in a quiet voice that softly vibrated against Stiles' neck.

Stiles patted Jackson's head before scratching at the nape of his neck. "I'm glad you've finally learned to use your big boy words," at that, Jackson pinched his hip and Stiles laughed, "but you don't have to explain this to me. I understand and it's alright, Jackson."

Jackson inhaled Stiles' scent deeply for a few more seconds and then pulled away from Stiles. Hands still linked together, the two walked into the diner and sat at the booth right across from the pack's table. Immediately, a wall of tension popped up.

Stiles looked to see Isaac, Erica, Boyd, and Derek looking stiff. He ordered what he usually got (except he substituted the milkshake for soda), Jackson ordered the same, and gave the waitress a smile as she left. He turned to the group and waved a hello. The boys didn't respond, as expected, though Isaac looked like he wanted to. Erica gave him a strained smile. "So... How're you guys doing? No monsters to fight recently, right? I think it's nice that nothing crazy's blown into town lately, don't y-"

Derek cut him off. "Stiles, what's he doing here?" Then he addressed Jackson. "Are you the wolf that's been lurking around? I should've known it was you." Thick eyebrows furrowed and Derek's eyes flashed alpha red.

Before Stiles could scold the alpha, Jackson's eyes flashed electric blue and he tilted his head, baring his neck in submission. Jackson kept his eyes to the ground. "I only came to visit Stilinski."

Derek practically growled. "Came to visit and then what? Why Stiles? Your scent's different and we don't like trying to figure out if the new thing in town is a threat or not."

"I just came to visit him because we've been talking. I didn't want anyone to find me before I was ready, so I've been staying in a motel near the outskirts of town. I'm sorry I didn't let you know I was here, but that won't be a problem anymore. Sorry, Alpha." He looked up at Stiles from beneath his lashes with a slight curl to his lips.

Stiles gave him a lop-sided grin. Jackson was showing him the progress he'd made. When Jackson first knew about this werewolf business, he was a complete loose cannon with no respect for the werewolf-y book of rules. But now it was clear that the London pack taught him well.

Derek stared at Jackson for a while before he blinked his eyes back to their normal color. "Fine. How long?"

"I'll be here for a few weeks before I cross the ocean again to get things finalized over there." Jackson's eyes went back to his human-colored baby blues. He looked at Stiles when he said, enunciating every word, "And when I come back, I'll be here to stay."

Stiles quietly freaked out, his arms doing some kind of flailing mating dance. He pretty much threw himself across the table and grabbed Jackson by the collar. His eyes were opened wide as he asked a barrage of questions, "You're staying? You're actually staying? Like, you're going to be here to finish highschool with us? Why didn't you tell me? Oh my god, this was the rest of what you were going to tell me, wasn't it? Is this real?"

Jackson's hands wrapped around the wrists at his collar and he leaned in close to Stiles, the tips of their noses touching. He held eye contact with Stiles' hopeful brown eyes for a good three seconds before he answered with a slow grin. "Yes."

Stiles made some sort of choked off sound before he got off of the table and slipped into Jackson's side of the booth to give him what would've been a rib-breaking hug.

But y'know. Werewolf.

Jackson's arms wrapped around him as Stiles was muttering into his shoulder. He didn't even know what he was saying, all of his feelings just came out like happy word vomit. Stiles wasn't sure what he did that made the universe decide to give him Jackson, but it was the best present he'd ever received. Next to Al, of course.

Jackson chuckled as he squeezed the base of Stiles' neck with a hand.

The pack looked surprised at the interaction. Erica, the first to get over the shock, smirked. Isaac managed to stop gaping at the sight, but still looked very confused. Derek and mini-Derek (Boyd) just raised an eyebrow each at Jackson and Stiles hugging.

"We're leaving," Derek said. Immediately the group got up and walked out, nodding their goodbyes, as Derek stayed behind to pay for their meal. He left sixty bucks on the table and turned to the two guys still hugging. He narrowed his eyes at Jackson. "Things aren't the same. You can't come back if you're going to be as reckless as you were before."

Stiles was going to say something, but Jackson squeezed him and said, "I'm not the same either. I can handle things better."

Stiles couldn't read Derek's expression, but he sighed in relief when Derek just said, "Good" and left. That could've gone a lot worse. Stiles asked, "So... What're you gonna do about being in a pack?"

Jackson lingered a bit before he separated from Stiles, who went to sit back on his side of the booth. The blond pinched the bridge of his nose. "I have no idea. Maybe I'll just stick with McCall."

Stiles bounced in his seat at the idea. "Yeah! That could totally work! Scott's pretty cool and no offense, but I don't think you and Derek are potential bros-for-life, nawmean?"

Jackson gave Stiles a WTF expression as he mouthed 'nawmean?' Then he shook his head, repeatedly muttering, "...tolerate the dorkiness..." Once he was done, he thought about it. "I'd prefer just you and McCall anyway. It's not like I care about Derek's groupies."

The waitress came by with their food, placing it on the table before leaving with a wink. "Enjoy your date, boys!"

Stiles felt his cheeks warm. He grabbed a handful of curly fries and shoved them into his mouth. He tried to talk as he ate, but Jackson just put a finger up and gave him a pointed look. He finished before he said, almost shyly, "It's a good idea."

Jackson smirked. "Is it?" He reached over to dust a bit of salt off of Stiles' cheek and licked the remains from his thumb as he pulled it back. The pink tip of his tongue flickered across his lips and the sight of it made Stiles gulp.

Stiles fumbled his straw as he tried opening it. It fell onto the floor, so he just attempted to chug the drink straight from the cup. He choked, then coughed to get soda out of his pipes. The brunet looked up to see Jackson looking smug and vaguely concerned.

"You never stop to breathe, do you, Stilinski?" Jackson grabbed a couple of napkins and leaned over the table to dab at the damp spot on Stiles' shirt.

Stiles could only look down at Jackson's long fingers wrapped around the napkins, blotting the sticky drink from his shirt. He was sure Jackson could hear his heart beating faster. Hell, he could probably feel it from where he was touching Stiles. Touching. Jackson touching Stiles. He was distracted by other thoughts when Jackson patted his cheek to get his attention.

"Stilinski? You okay?" There was a hint of amusement in Jackson's voice, as if he could read Stiles' mind. If the smirk on his face was anything to go by, he could probably smell Stiles' arousal.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good." He took a big bite of his burger and spoke while chewing. "So, let's talk about it with Scott when we go back?"

Jackson glared at Stiles' mouth for a good second and a half before he answered half-heartedly. "Yeah." He was obviously not a big fan of people who talked while eating with their mouths opened.

Stiles noticed the mood change from bow-chika-wow-wow to alright-let's-get-it-over-with. He was a bit disappointed, but relieved because wow. Any more of Jackson's allure and Stiles would be a hot mess. Maybe it was a werewolf thing, being unbearably attractive. Or maybe Stiles was easy. It was probably the latter. He took his time eating his food, lost in thought about Jackson's hotness traits and eventually thinking about other, random topics.

It was when he was going to ask Jackson a serious, but absurd question (do werewolves have knots?) [that he hadn't asked Scott yet] that he noticed Jackson staring at him.

Jackson's cheek was resting on the palm of his hand, the arm of which was propped up on the table. The sunlight coming from the window shone on him and highlighted his features, making him seem almost angel-like. He had a small smile on and looked at Stiles as if he was the most amusing thing in the world.

This was when it hit Stiles. It wasn't so much of a smack to the face as it was a sudden overwhelming feeling of content and I really fucking like him. He'd finished eating by this point, Jackson had too while he was stuck in his head, and he wiped his hands with a napkin. Stiles placed his hand over Jackson's free one on the table and squeezed. "I like you."

Jackson's smile grew wider and there was a sparkle in each of his eyes. "I know, idiot." He interlaced their fingers together and kissed their joined hands. "I know." And that was his way of saying "I like you too".

And less than four weeks after that day, Jackson left back to London to get his things and officially move back to Beacon Hills. He came home two weeks after that and rented a nice, expensive apartment downtown. The apartment allowed for pets, so of course Stiles brought Al with him whenever he visited Jackson.

More often than not, that's how most of their nights went. Stiles and Jackson would cuddle up on the large couch with Al on someone's lap and they'd just do homework or relax. They'd watch movies or tv, read, play games, and sometimes they just talked. Sometimes they wouldn't do anything at all and would just cuddle up with each other for an hour or so, eventually falling asleep. But those days were Stiles' favorites because he'd wake up to Al slobbering in his sleep at the foot of the couch and Jackson's face, looking disturbed because of the wet sensation of doggy saliva between his toes.

That's not how all their nights went though. Some nights, Jackson would be caught in nightmares of what he'd done when he was the kanima. At first, Stiles didn't sleep over often, but the first time he caught Jackson waking up, snarling and crying was when Stiles decided to stay over more. On those nights, Stiles would build a nest of blankets and pillows, and he'd play big spoon. Al would pace around the room a few times before he leapt onto the bed, barking to let Jackson know the room was safe, and then curling up to Jackson's front. And Stiles would talk softly about anything and everything until Jackson fell asleep. And in the morning, Jackson would scratch behind Al's ears and ruffle Stiles' hair in thanks.

Their days were spent either at the Stilinski household or outside, hanging out in nature or in town. Stiles' dad, Sheriff John Stilinski, was taken aback by their relationship at first. Afterall, Jackson had placed a restraining order against his son (which Jackson said he'd dealt with already) and John had always thought they'd hated each other. But in time, he came to accept Jackson with open arms.

And after several weeks of Stiles having sleepovers practically every other day at Jackson's, John asked, "Are you living with him?"

To which Stiles replied, "Define living." This earned him a pinch to the arm from John. Stiles yelped, rubbing his arm. "I've got a toothbrush, my Star Wars video tapes, and enough spare clothes to fill up a few drawers there. I'm pretty much living with him."

John stared at his son for a while. Stiles never took those Star Wars tapes out of their house. This was serious.

John had fallen in love with and married Claudia, Stiles' deceased mother, at around Stiles' age. Their young love wasn't as foolish as everyone thought it was and it lasted. He wasn't sure if he could see that everlasting love in Stiles' and Jackson's relationship, but he could see himself in Stiles. In the way Stiles' threw all of himself into caring for the person he loved. Once Stiles was attached, that was it. And while John was worried about his son, he'd also seen Jackson prove himself to be a fit match.

John sighed. "I'm not going to try to keep you from him, but there will be conditions. What you've got going so far works, but I expect to see Jackson over too sometimes. I promised to keep an eye on him anyway, since his parents decided to let him live by himself. And all of us will have dinner together every Monday and Wednesday." He pulled his son into a warm bear hug and added, "Same goes for Al."

Stiles laughed into his dad's shoulder. "'Kay, Dad. I wouldn't ever think of keeping him away from you." Then he added softly, "I love you, Dad."

John squeezed the nape of Stiles' neck. "Love you too, Stiles."

Everything was all hunky dory for a few years until Peter came back. It was the summer after the first year of college when everyone was playing in the lake near the rebuilt Hale House (except for Lydia, who went to Rome with her parents for the break). It was an extremely hot, humid day and the lake was the perfect place to be.

Stiles was floating around in the deep end as Al was caught in a very intense game of fetch with a ball Jackson was throwing. Jackson was at the shallow end, his shirt off, swim trunks on, and in the water up to his knees.

Derek and Scott were sparring in the meadow nearby. The two had bonded over the the fact that they each had pack responsibilities as leaders. Scott was still only a beta, but with the way he got all protective over Jackson and Stiles, it was like he was an alpha. Heck, Jackson even obeyed his commands most of the time. Scott helped Derek bond better with his pack ("Less broody and moody, more words and expression of feelings," Scott always told him).

Speaking of Derek's pack, Isaac, Erica, and Boyd were all sitting in the grass with their feet in the water. Somehow they'd procured wolfsbane-laced alcohol and were enjoying getting a bit loosened up drinking it. Stiles liked to think they were all pretty much friends by this point. How much monster-killing did a group of people have to do together until they could call each other friends anyway?

Stiles was busy daydreaming when he snapped to attention at the sound of Al aggressively barking towards the woods across the lake. He noticed that all of the 'wolves had stopped what they were doing and were looking in the same direction as Al. Stiles listened closely, but he couldn't hear anything apart from Al's barks. And then he saw it, a figure running towards the lake. He squinted.

Was that Peter?

Stiles got confirmation of his identity when he heard Erica going, "What the fuck, Peter?! What happened to being in the Amazon rainforest?!"

Peter let out a howl, which led to all of the 'wolves getting into attack stances. Wait, attack stances? Stiles couldn't tell what was wrong before, but then Peter had gotten closer and was running along the perimeter of the lake as if something was chasing him. Peter was shouting at Stiles to get out of the water. You would think Stiles would have the whole spidey sense instinct down by now, but instead of moving, he just watched Peter run and cluelessly went, "What?"

That was when they all heard it. There was rustling as the monster slithered across the ground in the woods. The hissing sound was so loud, Stiles could've sworn a giant snake was making its way towards the lake.

Which it was. And it did.

He saw a huge anaconda crossing the lake diagonally and slithering on the surface towards him with an angry expression on its face. Which was weird because, could snakes have expressions? It was at least 30 feet long! And it was chasing after Peter, but the look in its eyes made Stiles think it didn't mind picking up an appetizer before the main course. It wasn't until he turned to see Jackson running around the lake towards him and everyone at the other end of the lake shouting at him, that he started to swim towards land. If he didn't get out of the water, the snake (clearly the superior swimmer of the two) would kill him.

By this point, Peter was probably fifty feet away from where Stiles intended to reach land. Stiles barely made it to the dirt when Peter sped past him and the snake was suddenly a lot closer to Stiles than he wanted it to be. There was no way he was going to outrun a gigantic fucking anaconda and of course Peter, the absolute dickhead, would leave him to die. He scrambled on land as he tried to get up and run, the snake only seconds away from catching him.

As the snake reared up to get him, not at all stopping its acceleration, he found himself tackled out of its way and the snake ate dirt instead as it made it out of the water. Jackson had already gotten up after tackling him, so he immediately threw Stiles over his shoulder and was running by the time Stiles' brain got with the program. The snake, suddenly even more angry, decided to chase after them instead of going after Peter. The anaconda took a short while to turn in the woods and get onto their path without crashing and flipping over, which gave Jackson and Stiles a headstart on their escape.

Stiles started freaking out. "Oh my god. Holy shit. Why the fuck is a snake chasing us?! I almost died! Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck!" His forehead kept hitting Jackson's back, but he wasn't complaining because Jackson was currently saving his life. Again. And Stiles had a nice view of Jackson's ass; the blond's swim trunks slung a bit low, revealing just the top of his cheeks.

Let it never be said that Stiles couldn't focus on the important things.

Jackson wove through the trees, hoping to get the snake tangled up. But it found no problems following them, since the reserve was a laugh compared to the Amazonian forest floor. He couldn't find a way to get out of the situation, so he cursed and just tilted his head back to howl his location to the other werewolves.

It turned out that the cavalry already caught up to them because all six of the 'wolves, including Peter, sunk their claws into different sections of the snake's thick skin. They slowed it down significantly and Derek and Scott ran up to its head to put its thick neck into a chokehold. Not only was it huge, but it was probably supernaturally endowed with strength if it took six werewolves to slow down. It writhed and tried to lash out at the 'wolves holding it down, but they stood firm and kept it from getting loose.

Jackson had put Stiles down and was holding him close as they watched the group handle the snake. Eventually fifteen minutes of struggling passed and the snake stopped moving. The anaconda sparkled and the 'wolves were so surprised that they dropped it. And instead of a giant anaconda on the ground, there was a beautiful woman in tribal wear, basically naked, laying unconscious. Immediately everyone turned to look at Peter.

Derek growled. "Explain."

Now that they could relax, they got a better look at Peter and noticed that the older man looked as if he fell out of a plane and into the wilderness. Which was pretty much how he got into the Amazon, but definitely not how he could've came back from it. His clothes were tattered and covered in dirt. His usually perfectly styled hair was a mess and his goatee was unkept.

"Amazonian woman, as you might know, are very tough and capable. What you might not know is that some of the woman can shapeshift or 'borrow the forms' of revered animals. We were involved and when Sisrybe wanted to marry and I declined... Let's say she didn't find that at all favorable. But that might have been after she found out that I slept with her sisters." Peter ran a hand through his hair and grimaced at the grease and dirt. He didn't even look guilty.

Scott looked at him in disbelief. "Are you telling me that you cheated on an Amazonian warrior and she went crazy and chased you all the way from the Amazon to Beacon Hills? What, did she sneak onto the plane to California and then attack you as soon as you got off? You run all the way here from the airport or something?"

Peter refused to answer, inspecting his dirtied nails nonchalantly, which everyone took as an answer in itself. Peter was still an asshole, even after all this time.

"Is she okay?" Stiles asked. She was psycho and tried to kill him, but anyone would be the same after dealing with Peter. He couldn't blame her, but that didn't mean he was going to go up and check on the lady.

Boyd muttered, "She's still alive. Unconscious, I think. I guess her injuries as a snake don't affect her when she's human again."

"Borrowing the form of an animal requires a sort of spiritual magic that gets its energy from the user. She's exhausted herself by holding it for so long. I imagine she's been an anaconda since she snuck herself into the cargo," Peter informed.

"What are we gonna do?" Stiles leaned into Jackson.

Jackson glared at Peter. "I say Peter should just take her home. It's his fault anyway."

Derek scoffed. "And what happens when she wakes up? She's more likely to kill him than let him take her home."

Stiles thought about it for a bit. "Let Deaton handle it. Technically, she's not even supposed to be here. It could be messing with the funk of the balance for all we know. If worse comes to worse, Deaton can ship her back home as an anaconda. He's a vet, so he has experience with transporting animals, I guess. Right, Scott?"

Scott mulled it over for a couple of minutes before he nodded. "C'mon Peter, you and I are gonna clean up your mess."

Peter looked as if he was going to argue, but Derek and the rest of the pack shut him down with the combined force of their glares. So he sighed and followed Scott, who already had the woman in his arms, to the car.

Everyone watched as they drove off before Derek and his pack decided to pack up and go back inside. Nobody blamed them; life-threatening events tended to put a damper on things.

Stiles looked around. Where was Al? He was so distracted by the snakey situation that he forgot about his dog for a moment. "Jax, where's Al?"

Jackson paused to listen for the dog. He took Stiles' hand as he led the way to Al's location.

As it turned out, Al was still at the edge of the lake, though he was restlessly pattering in circles in the shallow water. Once he saw them coming, he barked happily, splashing as he ran towards the pair. He'd grown pretty big and could now reach their hips with his forelegs if he stood on his hind legs. He stood up and pawed at their stomachs, whining.

Stiles let go of Jackson's hand to kneel in the sand and hug Al. He laughed as his nose was licked by the dog and cooed, "Ooh, that's a good boy! No more running to help us when supernatural freakies try to kill us! Good job, Al!"

Over the few years, Al had seen his fair share of monsters. Often times, he would rush in to try to bite at enemy hands, feet, paws, tails, wings, etc. Stiles and Jackson had let him do it because most of the creatures were wimps that even human kids could beat up. It wasn't till Al had broken his leg a couple of months ago (when they encountered what looked like a miniature sasquatch) that they put their feet down on his creature-fighting tendencies. He would only help them if they called him to.

Jackson rolled his eyes at Stiles and leaned down to pat Al's head. He extended a hand towards his boyfriend. "Let's go home, yeah?"

Stiles looked up at Jackson with a smile before taking his hand. "Let's."