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Entry tags:
Masquerade
Teen Wolf, Omegaverse, Jackson, some Jackson/Lydia and some Jackson/Derek. Rated R.
Also at AO3.
So this idea came about after an extended conversation with vongchild about how alpha/beta/omega fics tend to have confused biology. She wrote up this lovely essay about the topic which I highly recommend you read! In any case, going along with the issues pointed out in her essay, I came up with this idea for a different spin on the usual werewolf omegaverse. There are no human betas in this universe.
Notes: Boyd is on the lacrosse team in this story. It’s up to you whether you want to assume he joined after being turned or not. Androcrur is an actual drug. I don’t actually know anything about its real uses.
***
This is a story about Jackson Whittemore.
***
This is a story about Jackson Whittemore. It starts when he is eleven years old, and ends on a cold cement floor in the basement of a burned-out house.
***
This is a story about Jackson Whittemore. It starts when he is eleven years old and attends a school assembly for sex ed. They play a video on the big screen in the auditorium, talking about male and female genitalia, line drawings demonstrating erections and breasts and sex and sperm and eggs, and there’s muffled giggling from all of the kids in the audience. There’s a video of a live birth, which has Jackson and his best friend Danny cringing but trying to pretend they’re too tough to be grossed out.
There’s also a video about alphas and omegas, and about how omegas are only fertile when they’re in heat every 8 to 12 weeks, and alphas have their fertility triggered by omega heat pheromones. It talks about condoms and how you should use protection even if neither partner is in heat, because of sexually transmitted diseases. The video shows photos of female alphas and female omegas, and male alphas and male omegas, and talks about how alphas on average are bigger and stronger than omegas, but not always. It talks about the omega civil rights movement of the 1960’s, when omegas got the right to vote. It talks about how alphas need to be responsible and take care of their omegas.
The video talks about how omega kids go through their first heat when they’re 14 or 15, and what to expect from it. If you’re feeling sudden sexual urges, combined with a fever, tell your parents or a teacher right away so they can get you home and locked away safely, the video says. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. When your first heat is over, your parents will take you to get your ear pierced and give you your omega earring, and you have to wear it all the time so that people will know how to take care of you. Keep a calendar so you can track your heat cycles and let the school know, and they’ll send your homework home for you during the three or four days you’re in heat each cycle.
Jackson and Danny tease each other about heat, but it’s just joking because they know that they’re both going to be alphas. After all, they’re both big and strong for their age.
That night, Jackson asks his mom and dad why neither of them wears an omega earring or goes into heat. There’s an uncomfortable glance between them, and Jackson’s mom tells him it’s because they’re both alphas. It takes Jackson a minute to process what that means before he asks how they had him, if neither of them was an omega.
This is how Jackson finds out he’s adopted.
***
This is a story about Jackson Whittemore. He is 15 years old and he’s been dating Lydia Martin since seventh grade. Any day now Lydia might go into her first heat; her sixteenth birthday is approaching and it’s going to happen before then. Jackson isn’t worried. Sometimes he tells Lydia about how he’s going to take care of her like an alpha should, but Lydia just rolls her eyes. It makes Jackson want her more.
It’s in fourth period biology when Jackson starts to feel ill. At first he thinks maybe it’s from something in the cafeteria lunch he ate, but he feels more feverish than queasy. He tries to ignore it and focus on the frog he and Danny are dissecting, but his hand trembles and he accidentally cuts the frog’s stomach open.
“Jackson, are you okay?” Danny asks, while Jackson wipes sweat off his forehead.
“I think I might be coming down with that flu that’s been going around,” Jackson confesses. Danny doesn’t look like he believes it, but he doesn’t say anything about the way that Jackson gets more and more fidgety while they finish their work.
When the bell rings, Jackson takes off for the bathroom and locks himself in a stall. He listens to the other students rushing in during the passing period, and then gradually leaving, until the bell for fifth period rings and he’s alone again. The fever is getting worse, and it’s not just that anymore. Jackson can’t stop thinking about Lydia, and some part of him knows what this means but he can’t accept it. He buries his head in his hands and takes deep, shuddering breaths.
The bathroom door creaks open, then closed. “Jackson? Are you in here?” It’s Danny, of course it’s Danny, who is in all of his classes and always knows when something is wrong no matter how much Jackson tries to hide it. Danny’s shoes appear on the other side of the stall door, and Jackson unlatches it to let him in. “It’s not the flu, is it?” Danny asks quietly.
“You can’t--” Jackson’s words catch in his throat, and he coughs. “You can’t tell anyone, Danny, please, don’t tell anyone.” Danny bites his lip, and Jackson grabs at Danny’s hands, grip slipping because his palms are sweating so much. “Please.”
“I’m telling your parents, Jackson, they need to know, but I won’t tell anyone else. I promise.” Danny pulls Jackson up and helps him over to the sink to wash some of the sweat off of his face. “I’m taking you home and then I’m calling your parents. Lucky for you I have my license already.”
“Whatever, you know I’m a better driver than you are and when I turn 16 I’m getting a Porsche,” Jackson grumbles. “Guess I’ll have to make do with your second-hand Toyota until then.”
It’s not a long walk to the car, and Danny takes them through the most circuitous route so that nobody will see them, stopping only to poke his head into their English class and tell the teacher that Jackson has the flu and he’s taking him home. Jackson feels like his skin is on fire, and every wrinkle and shift of his clothing prickles and burns. During the ride home Jackson is preternaturally aware of the heat of Danny’s body and the sound of his breathing. He can’t keep himself still and keeps shifting in his seat, crossing one leg and then the other, trying to ease the sudden tightness of his jeans. “It’s okay,” Danny murmurs. “You’re okay. We’re almost there.” Normally Jackson would shrug him off, or tell him to shut up, but right now he’s grateful for the repetitive words and the sound of Danny’s voice, because his mind is racing and he’s never felt so out of control of his own body.
By the time they pull up in front of Jackson’s house, Jackson can’t concentrate enough to undo his seatbelt. Danny comes around to the passenger side of the car when he sees that Jackson’s not getting out on his own, and leans over him to release the catch. Jackson draws in a sharp breath at the closeness of Danny’s body, and notices for the first time the flush rising on Danny’s cheeks. Pheromones, he thinks distantly, as Danny pulls away and Jackson climbs out of the car.
Danny follows him into the house and up the stairs, stopping in the doorway of Jackson’s room. Jackson drops his backpack and turns around, stopping awkwardly and looking back at Danny. “Are you coming in?” he asks, trying to sound less uncertain than he feels.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Danny straightens his shirt absently, looking everywhere but at Jackson. “I’m-- I’m going to shut the door, okay? I’ll call your parents and I’ll wait right outside your door until they get here.”
“Danny,” Jackson breathes, watching his hand reach out for Danny’s arm as if it’s being controlled by someone else.
“No.” Jackson can’t disguise the hurt on his face at the sharp tone of Danny’s voice, but he drops his hand away. Danny looks apologetic. “You’re not my type,” he offers up, and Jackson smiles a little at their oldest joke.
“I’m everyone’s type,” he replies, but he shuts the door between them anyway. “Just-- Talk to me, okay? So I know you’re still there?”
“Yeah. I’m gonna call your mom now.” Jackson takes off his clothes to cool down while he listens to Danny explaining what’s going on to his mom. He can’t hear what his mom is saying, but he can’t help but think that he’s been a disappointment to them. To adopt a child, raise him up to be a leader, and then have him turn out to be an omega? Jackson slams his fist into the wall in frustration. He knows what his body wants now -- it’s impossible to ignore the evidence between his legs -- but he feels like his body has betrayed him, so he ignores it. Something drips off of his face onto the floor, and he’s not sure if it’s sweat or tears.
“Your mom’s on her way home. She said she’d pick up some medicine for the symptoms and be here in half an hour,” Danny says from outside. “Are you okay in there?”
Jackson laughs. “Yeah, perfect. My entire life is a disaster.”
“Look, Jackson . . . “ There’s a scraping sound from outside, like Danny is sliding his back down the door to sit on the floor. “I don’t care if you’re an--”
“Don’t say it!”
“Okay, fine, but I don’t care. Your parents aren’t going to care either.”
Jackson lays down on his bed and stares at the ceiling. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He can hear Danny sigh through the door and knows exactly what expression is on Danny’s face.
There’s silence for a while, and then Danny asks, “Do you need anything? Water? Lotion?” Jackson groans, trying to think about anything except the throbbing between his legs.
“No, just-- Just read me the assigned reading for History or something.” There’s a zip and a shuffling sound, and then Danny starts reading about the Hundred Years’ War.
***
This is a story about Jackson Whittemore, whose parents take him on business trips with them once every couple of months so that nobody will know he’s an omega. He’s been dating Lydia Martin since seventh grade, and people think their relationship won’t last because a relationship between two alphas almost never does. Jackson is the captain of the lacrosse team and spends an hour a day in the gym lifting weights.
Only Jackson isn’t the captain of the lacrosse team anymore, he’s the co-captain. The fact that Scott McCall turned out to be an alpha sticks in his craw enough, but somehow McCall is getting better and better at lacrosse. Jackson puts in more hours practicing, trying to make up for the omega biology he’s stuck with, hating McCall for the physical advantage being an alpha gives him. At least that idiot Stilinski McCall hangs out with turned out to be an omega.
Strange things are going on in Beacon Hills, too. People are dying in animal attacks, and Jackson narrowly avoids being involved in one when he and Lydia pull up to a video store only to find the police marking it off as a crime scene. Jackson hears about what’s going on in town in bits and pieces, listening to his parents talking about it over breakfast. He pulls the newspaper over to take a look while he’s eating his cereal, and is surprised that he recognizes the man in the wanted drawing on the front page. Dark hair, intense eyes, silver omega earring dangling from his left ear -- Derek Hale is definitely the guy who’s been hanging around school looking for McCall.
Jackson doesn’t really care about any of that though. He’s too preoccupied with trying to chart out his heat cycle to identify which games he’s going to have to miss and to see if it will interfere with the state lacrosse championships. Second to lacrosse, he focuses on getting top grades, and after that all Jackson really cares about is trying to find a way to make Lydia stop hanging out with Allison so much, because hanging out with Allison means hanging out with Scott, and the only thing more infuriating than Scott being an alpha who is good at lacrosse is the fact that Scott seems to think this is somehow a bad thing.
When he gets home from a “business trip” with his parents to LA and sees that the newspaper has a cover story about Allison’s aunt being found dead, and how she had been behind the Hale house fire, Jackson thinks maybe Lydia won’t want to be friends with Allison anymore.
Two weeks after that, Isaac Lahey suddenly starts kicking ass at lacrosse. More importantly, Isaac is actually playing during a game when he’s scheduled to be out for his heat cycle. Jackson corners him in the locker room after the game, when Isaac is toweling off his hair. He gets into Isaac’s personal space and flicks Isaac’s earring. “Thought you had to sit this one out.”
Isaac’s eyes dart around the room, then he laughs nervously. “Yeah, there’s this new drug trial going on. Seems to be working pretty well.” He pulls on a shirt and glances at Jackson with a raised eyebrow. “What’s it to you? What do you care about omega heats?”
Jackson shrugs his shoulders in a slow roll, maybe not quite as nonchalant as he’d like. “I’m team captain, Lahey, I need to know who’s going to be playing. When should I expect you to be out again?”
Isaac ducks his head, fiddling with his earring. “I’ll be playing in every game.”
Later that night, Jackson asks his parents if they know about any drug trials for heat suppressants going on. His dad assures him that they follow the field very closely, and if there were any clinical trials going on, they would have signed him up.
Still, Isaac keeps showing up to practice and playing in every game. Then one day Erica Reyes shows up at school when she’s supposed to be out for her heat, wearing a miniskirt and a tube top, and acting like the past couple years never happened at all, like the horrible incident where she went into her first heat in class and it triggered an epileptic seizure was something that everyone could just forget about. She starts hanging around with Isaac, and Jackson overhears her telling someone else about joining the drug trial.
The news spreads around school quickly, and Jackson’s not surprised when Danny asks him if he’s in the drug trial too. They’re alone in Danny’s bedroom after school, working on homework for Econ, and Jackson fiddles with his pen. “I wanted to talk to you about that, actually. My parents say there aren’t any drug trials going on.” Jackson hesitates, then adds, “I was wondering if you could hack into the school’s files and see if they have any information about it.” Danny is sensitive about the time he got arrested for hacking, and Jackson usually avoids mentioning it.
Danny looks at him for a minute, then says, “Give me your laptop. If anyone finds out, I had nothing to do with it.” Jackson nods hands over the laptop, then goes back to listing bullet points about Alexander Hamilton’s economic ideas, listening to Danny’s fingers clicking rapidly on the keyboard.
Two hours later, Jackson has finished his homework and is reading ahead in Brave New World when Danny shuts the lid of the laptop. “I don’t get it,” Danny says. “I got into the school’s files, and there’s the name of the same pharmaceutical company listed for Isaac, Erica, and Boyd, but the company doesn’t exist.”
“What? How is that possible?” Jackson asks, brows drawing together.
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s some kind of secret government thing?” Jackson groans and tosses his book aside, falling back on Danny’s bed. “You could just ask them,” Danny says mildly.
“Yeah, sure, that wouldn’t look suspicious at all. What possible reason would Jackson Whittemore have to care about where an omega is getting heat suppressors from?”
Danny gets up from his desk and joins Jackson on the bed. “Jackson, maybe it’s time--”
“No!” Jackson grabs Danny’s arm, releasing him when he realizes Danny is wincing at the pain. “No. I’m going to get whatever they have, and we are never going to have to talk about this again.” Danny sighs and opens his textbook.
***
This is a story about Jackson Whittemore, who has spent the past month carefully observing his classmates. He has seen Isaac, Erica, Boyd, and even Scott and Stiles sometimes get into a black Camaro after school -- a black Camaro driven by Derek Hale. Some days Derek is wearing sunglasses and grinning, and the sunlight glints off of his earring as he guns the accelerator. Some days he looks angry; those are the days that Scott and Stiles get into his car. Jackson’s not sure what’s going on, but Derek Hale is the common factor. Despite the omega earring, he’s seen Derek around school every couple of days, so unless his heat lines up too closely with Jackson’s “business trips,” Derek’s got to be involved with the heat suppressant drugs as well.
Jackson doesn’t follow the car at first. Instead, he starts paying more attention to Isaac and Erica’s whispered conversations in chemistry class, to Isaac and Boyd’s conversations in lacrosse practice. He starts encouraging Lydia’s friendship with Allison, so that he has an excuse to listen in on Scott and Stiles at the lunch table, now that Scott and Allison are in one of the on-again phases of their on-again-off-again relationship. All he’s really managed to find out is that Erica, Isaac, and Boyd do what Derek asks them to, and Scott and Stiles argue endlessly about whether or not to listen to Derek.
Jackson takes the opportunity to ask Scott some questions while they’re waiting in line at the movie theater to buy popcorn for Lydia and Allison. “So I saw you hanging around with Derek Hale the other day,” Jackson opens, watching Scott carefully for a reaction. There it is -- a twitch in the muscle of Scott’s jaw, a slight clench of his fingers. “He’s involved with that drug trial that Isaac’s in, right?”
“What-- Uh, what makes you say that?” Scott asks, not looking Jackson in the eye.
“I dunno, maybe the fact that he keeps picking up Isaac, Erica, and Boyd after school? Or maybe the fact that he’s an omega but never seems to go into heat?” Jackson tries to keep his voice indifferent, as if he has no interest other than friendly curiosity.
“Oh, yeah.” Scott’s eyes scan the menu board. “Yeah, I think he takes them to the uh, clinic. After school.”
“So what are you doing with him? You’re an alpha, what’s in it for you?”
Scott fidgets, pulling out his wallet and looking at the sadly small number of bills in it, then blurts out, “It’s Stiles. Stiles wants to get in on the trial so I’m helping him out.” He looks at Jackson, finally, and smiles. “Moral support, you know?”
“Oh,” Jackson says. “Sure.” It makes sense; Scott and Stiles have been friends forever, and Jackson can’t blame Stiles for wanting to get rid of his heat cycles. Still, he gets the feeling there’s something Scott isn’t telling him, but he can’t dig any deeper without giving himself away.
Two days later, Jackson follows Derek’s car after school. He loses track of the Camaro somewhere around the entrance to the Beacon Hills nature preserve. Jackson pulls up in the parking lot and gets out of his car, leaning back on the hood and looking up at the trees. He tries to think of everything he knows about Derek Hale, everything he’s picked up from the local newspapers. He remembers hearing about the fire when it happened, that only a few members of the Hale family survived. There was a picture of the Hale house in the paper for the story about Allison’s aunt as well, and Jackson remembers it was set in the middle of the woods -- maybe near the nature preserve. He’s thinking about whether or not to bother taking off on one of the trails into the park when the sound of rustling leaves gets his attention.
Jackson looks around, startled by the noise, and there he is. Derek Hale. Standing not ten feet away, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, and Jackson has no idea how Derek managed to sneak up so close before he heard him. There are no other cars in the parking lot. “Why are you following me?” Derek asks.
Jackson swallows, suddenly nervous. “What are you talking about? I’m not following you.”
Derek raises an eyebrow. “You just decided to drive out to the nature preserve? Alone?”
Jackson puts on his best arrogant alpha face and replies, “I needed some air.” Derek takes a step forward and Jackson can’t help backing up, his back pressing against the side of his car. Derek may be an omega but he sure as hell doesn’t act like one, or look like one for that matter. Maybe it’s the effect of the heat suppressant drugs, but Derek is big and brawny, and despite all the time Jackson spends in the gym he’s pretty sure that Derek could kick his ass if he decided to.
Derek laughs at Jackson’s reaction, and advances until he’s crowding Jackson back against the car, close enough that Jackson can feel Derek’s body heat. Jackson’s skin prickles uncomfortably, reminding him that his next heat is coming up in a few days. “Stay out of my business,” Derek breathes in Jackson’s ear. “If I catch you following me again, I’ll slash your tires and break all the windows of your fancy little Porsche.”
With that, Derek’s gone -- gone so fast that by the time Jackson catches his breath there’s no trace of the man.
Even if Jackson hadn’t been rattled by his run-in with Derek, he wouldn’t have had another chance to follow him for over a week anyway. Jackson gets on a plane with his parents for Denver the next day, and spends three days straight shut in a hotel room, popping Androcrur to reduce the sexual urges and Tylenol to bring down his fever. Even with the medication, it’s a bad heat, and when he gets back to Beacon Hills, Jackson still feels like he’s fighting through a mental fog.
Something is different at school. A new principal took over in the few days Jackson was gone: Allison’s grandfather. Scott and Stiles are acting even stranger than usual, and at lacrosse practice Jackson thinks for a minute that Scott and Boyd are going to start fighting. Even after Coach runs over to to stop them, there’s tension in the air and Boyd is pulling back a fist, until Stiles grabs onto Scott’s arms and Isaac grabs Boyd’s and the two are pulled apart. Jackson thinks the heat haze must still be affecting him, because for a minute it looks like Boyd’s eyes are glowing yellow, and like there is something sharp sticking out of the end of Scott’s gloves.
After practice, Jackson picks up one of Scott’s discarded gloves from the field. There are small, fingernail-sized holes in all of the fingertips.
“What’s up with Boyd and McCall?” Jackson asks Danny as they’re getting dressed after showering. Danny glances at him, frowning.
“I don’t know. Everyone seems like something’s bothering them today. Erica smashed her graduated cylinder in chemistry because the reaction wasn’t working, Isaac got up and left in the middle of English class, and Scott and Boyd have been glaring at each other all day.” Danny shuts his locker and shoulders his gym bag. “Stiles is the only one who seems remotely norm--”
Danny is cut off by a sudden loud clanking sound, and they both turn around to see a pile of chains falling out of Stiles’s locker. Jackson raises his eyebrows at Danny, who gives him a helpless shrug.
Jackson wanders over by where Scott and Stiles are whispering frantically at each other, pretending he’s looking for his helmet. “--need to call Derek,” he catches Stiles saying. “You know my heat could start any minute and I can’t help you when I’m in heat.”
“I’ll be fine, Stiles,” Scott replies, but his voice is uncharacteristically angry. “Just drop me off on your way home and lock yourself in your room.” Stiles looks conflicted, but nods. Jackson grabs a helmet off the bench and heads back to his locker.
Following Stiles is easier than following Derek was. Jackson pulls up a couple blocks away from Scott’s house and watches Scott get out of the car and stalk into the house. He thinks about following Stiles when Stiles’s Jeep starts up, but stays where he is, parked with his headlights off. Scott had said that he was helping Stiles get into the drug trial, but if Stiles is still going into heat then he must not have started taking anything yet. The conversation earlier made it sound like there was something wrong with Scott, though, so Jackson decides he can afford to spend a little while keeping an eye on things. He switches on the radio in his car and relaxes, watching the lights turn on and off inside Scott’s house. The sun has just gone down, and as the night darkens Jackson can see the full moon rising over the top of the treeline.
It’s been about half an hour when another car pulls up across the street from Scott’s house. It’s not Scott’s mom, though; Jackson thinks he sees four men in the car. They look like they’re watching Scott’s house as well, and one of them is holding binoculars. For a while, nothing happens. Jackson drums his fingers on the steering wheel and is about to go home when there is a loud crash from inside the house. The other car’s doors open and the men pile out, and Jackson’s heart starts hammering in his chest when he sees that they’re all carrying guns. He fumbles in his pocket for his phone, and is about to dial -- Scott? 911? -- when there’s another crash and a shape comes rushing out of Scott’s bedroom window and takes off down the street, heading toward where Jackson is parked. One of the men fires and misses; there is some yelling and they get back in the car.
At first Jackson thinks it’s Scott that he sees run past his window. It certainly looks like Scott, but as Jackson watches him run down the street in his rearview mirror, the runner drops down to all fours and runs like an animal. There’s a squeal of tires and the other car rushes by in pursuit.
Jackson sits in his car, phone held tightly in one hand, breathing heavily, for nearly a full minute. He draws in a deep breath and stares at his phone, then dials Stiles. It rings four times, and Stiles picks up just when Jackson thinks it’s going to go to voicemail. Stiles’s voice is breathy and rough, and Jackson abruptly remembers that Stiles was expecting his heat to start.
“Stiles, you need to tell me what the fuck is going on because I just saw your buddy Scott jump out of a second story window and get shot at,” Jackson says, putting all of his effort into sounding angry instead of scared.
“What? Fuck. Fuck, I need to call Derek, is Scott okay? What happened?” Stiles asks, frantic and confused.
“He ran off,” Jackson says. “At least, I think it was Scott, because he ran on all fours like a fucking animal, Stiles.”
There is a clattering noise on the other end of the phone and muffled cursing. “Jackson, you need to trust me on this. Go home and lock all your doors and windows, and if you know what’s good for you forget that you saw anything tonight, okay?”
“Right, like I can just forget that there are cars full of guys with guns cruising the neighborhood shooting people? Tell me what the fuck is going on!”
Stiles makes a frustrated noise, then says, “Look, I can’t-- I’m in heat, okay? I can barely think and you want me to-- I have to call Derek right now to make sure Scott is okay because I can’t leave my room and talking to you is at the bottom of my priority list.”
“Stiles? Stiles!” Jackson yells into the phone, but Stiles has hung up. Jackson stares at the phone, then slams it down into the passenger seat. He closes his eyes and leans his head back against the headrest, remembering the blurred form that ran past his car window. It was Scott, it had to be, but it didn’t look right, didn’t look human. And then when it got down on all fours, and ran like a--
A howl rings out in the distance. It sounds like a wolf. There haven’t been wolves in California in sixty years, and Jackson suddenly puts two and two together with the full moon shining in through his moonroof and the memory of golden eyes and torn lacrosse gloves and the past few months’ string of animal attacks. He starts laughing, a wild giggle that bubbles up involuntarily and grows into hysterical laughter. The pharmaceutical company doesn’t exist because there is no drug trial; Erica and Isaac and Boyd and Derek don’t go into heat because they’re not even human. They’re werewolves.
***
This is a story about Jackson Whittemore, who discovered last night that werewolves are real, that some of his friends are werewolves, and that there are people who want to kill werewolves rolling through Beacon Hills with not-very-concealed weapons.
He spent the night at home with his doors and windows locked, staring at his phone, unable to decide whether or not to call Danny and tell him everything. The sleepless night is catching up with him now in homeroom, even though he snuck a cup of coffee from the pot his mom made this morning. Stiles isn’t in class, but that’s no surprise. A typical heat lasts 3-4 days, so Stiles won’t be back until next week.
Scott shows up in third period English. He looks exhausted, but he’s there, so Jackson figures the men with guns can’t have caught him after all.
Isaac is there by lunchtime, but Boyd and Erica don’t show up all day.
Jackson thinks about confronting Scott, but he’s too tired to come up with a good opening. He can feel Scott glancing at him throughout the day, though; it’s enough that Danny catches him in the locker room before lacrosse practice and asks, “What’s up with you and Scott? He keeps staring at you.”
For a moment, Jackson considers spilling everything. Instead, he shrugs and says, “Maybe he’s got the hots for me. Jealous?” Danny just rolls his eyes and straps on his helmet.
By Friday, everyone but Stiles is back in school as if nothing happened. Jackson has decided on a plan of action, and when they’re taking a break during practice he sits down on the bench next to Isaac. “I know your little secret,” he says, pitching his voice so that nobody else can hear them. Still, he sees Scott’s head swivel around to look at them; Jackson adds super hearing to his mental list of werewolf biological changes.
Isaac nods at Scott, unruffled, and leans back easily against the bleachers behind him, watching Scott turn his attention back to lacrosse. “What secret is that?” he asks mildly.
“The one related to the full moon last night, and the reason you don’t go into heat anymore? What is it, a bite that does it?” Jackson examines Isaac out of the corner of his eye; Isaac’s lips twist into a smirk.
“Nobody will believe you if you tell them,” he says.
“So what, you just go around biting people and turning them into werewolves? Did you bite Erica?”
Isaac shakes his head and grins. “Only an alpha’s bite can turn someone.”
“Like Scott? Did Scott turn you?”
Isaac laughs, and says, “Scott isn’t an alpha.”
Jackson blinks in surprise. “Of course he is, he’s never gone into heat.”
Isaac leans in toward Jackson, until their shoulders touch. “Scott was an alpha human, just like I was an omega human. Our biology is different now.” Coach’s whistle blows before Jackson can formulate a response, and Isaac heads back out onto the field.
Jackson has plans with Lydia after practice and doesn’t get a chance to talk to Isaac again. He spends the weekend alternating between entertaining Lydia and playing Call of Duty with Danny, letting what he’s learned about werewolves marinate in the back of his mind.
Sunday afternoon, he texts Stiles: Heat done? Need to talk.
Ten minutes later, a Skype notification pops up on his computer. Jackson accepts the call and Stiles’s face appears on the screen. “Before I say anything,” Stiles opens, “tell me what you know.” Stiles has bags under his eyes, remnants of a long, sleepless heat cycle, but he’s fiddling with a pen and jiggling his leg rapidly.
Jackson rolls his eyes, but replies, “Scott, Erica, Isaac, Boyd, and Derek are werewolves. They have super hearing, can run like animals, and being a werewolf makes you good at lacrosse. Scott, at least, has some guys trying to kill him. They turned into werewolves after getting bitten by an alpha werewolf, which is somehow different from an alpha human. I’m guessing Derek is the alpha werewolf, right?”
Stiles cringes and blows air out of his cheeks. “Yeah, that’s about right. Look, dude, this is some serious shit and you really don’t want to get involved in it.”
“Stiles, I don’t want to get involved in your ‘serious shit.’ Just tell me everything you know about werewolves so I can make sure the lacrosse team wins the state championship.” It took Jackson a while to think up that excuse and he hopes he delivered it effectively, because the last thing he needs is for Stiles Stilinski to find out that he’s an-- that he’s not an alpha. It’s not entirely a lie: he does care about winning the state championship and if his best players are going to screw things up with werewolf shit he needs to know. Stiles’s lips press together in a tight line, and Jackson relaxes, confident that he believes the half-truth.
“Okay, fine, but I’m only telling you because I want to win state too. Just promise me that you won’t tell anyone else, okay?” Jackson just stares at Stiles, with one eyebrow raised. Stiles throws his hands up in the air. “Oh my god. Fine,” he says, and starts talking.
Some of it is what Jackson expects to hear, but some of it is new. He expected that werewolves have an enhanced sense of smell and the full moon drives them nuts, and he’d pretty much figured out that there were werewolf hunters in town, but he wasn’t expecting that werewolves could heal pretty much instantly from almost anything, and he really wasn’t expecting that the hunters were Allison’s family.
The most important thing he learns in his hour on Skype with Stiles is that werewolves work in packs, and that an alpha leads a pack of betas. When he finds out that a wolf without a pack is an omega, and that werewolves can move fluidly between these roles, he realizes why Scott is the only one who seems to really have a problem with what he’s become (aside from the obvious problem of Allison being related to hunters). Scott was an alpha as a human, which put him on track to being respected and powerful, but as a werewolf he’s an omega. Isaac, on the other hand, was an omega human, destined for a life of limited opportunity and fewer rights, but as a werewolf he’s a beta and might someday even be an alpha of his own pack.
As an omega human, becoming a werewolf only gives you upward mobility. It’s a win-win situation, especially so for Jackson because he’s managed to stay under the radar and never get an omega earring. Getting rid of his heat cycles would guarantee that everyone would view him as an alpha human for the rest of his life.
All he has to do is convince Derek Hale to bite him.
Jackson doesn’t make a move for the next few weeks. He needs the bite before his next heat, but it’s a couple months off, so he has some time to come up with a plan. Derek intimidates him, not that he wants to admit it, and Jackson has a feeling that just asking politely isn’t going to get him what he wants. He needs to have a backup plan, something he can use to persuade Derek that biting Jackson is in his best interests. When Allison and Scott are suddenly broken up again, and Principal Argent has installed security cameras all over the school, he thinks he’s come up with something to use as leverage.
The next step of his plan is finding out where Derek lives, and what his habits are. He needs to be sure that he can get Derek alone, without the rest of the pack interfering. A few casual questions to Erica in History class, to Scott in lacrosse, to Stiles in Chemistry, and he’s got most of the information he needs. Still, he doesn’t know exactly where Derek lives, and he’s sure as hell not going to try following Derek directly again. Instead, Jackson starts following Stiles after school, or sometimes trailing after Scott’s bicycle. Most of the time this plan lands him at Scott’s house, Stiles’s house, or the vet’s office, but eventually they lead him to an abandoned transit tunnel in the warehouse district.
Jackson waits until the full moon is approaching, guessing that if it has some sway over Derek it might help trigger Derek’s instincts to build his pack. He has a free period while everyone else is still in class, and takes it to drive over to the transit tunnel. The entry isn’t exactly welcoming -- the tile is cracked and the railing of the stairs is coated in mold. Jackson starts to feel nervous when he nears the bottom of the stairs and the darkness closes in around him. There is a dim glow coming from further down the corridor, and he carefully walks forward, using the backlight on his phone as a flashlight.
“Derek?” Jackson swallows. “I know you can hear me. I just want to talk.” He turns the corner and finds himself in a large space with light filtering in from window wells. It’s still dark, but he thinks he can make out the outline of a train car.
Electric lights flicker on abruptly overhead and Jackson spins around. Derek is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. The sleeves of his shirt are tight and pushed up to the elbows, and Jackson tries not to think about how Derek’s muscles are strong enough to crush his bones. “I thought I told you to stay out of my business,” Derek says. His eyes flash red, and Jackson starts to take an involuntary step back, but catches himself and steps forward instead. His heart is pounding in his chest, but he walks toward Derek despite his nerves.
“I want to be one of you,” he says. “I want you to bite me.”
Derek chuckles, dipping his head, then looks at Jackson with raised eyebrows. “What possible reason would I have to do that?”
Jackson has rehearsed this in front of his bedroom mirror, practicing his expressions and his words to be as persuasive as possible. He knows how to use his looks to his best advantage, how to show off his strength, and when he steps closer to Derek to answer him he concentrates on making the best possible display of himself. “Because you need to strengthen your pack, and you know that someone like me would be everything you need.”
Derek shakes his head, an amused smile playing at his lips, and turns his back on Jackson heading toward the train car. It’s a dismissal, and anger boils up in Jackson. “Wait!” he yells, grabbing at Derek’s arm. Derek shakes his hand off, but doesn’t turn around. Jackson steels himself to go with his backup plan. “If you don’t give me what I want, I’ll go straight to Principal Argent and tell him where he can find you and everything I know about your little pack.”
Before Jackson can even inhale, Derek has him up against a support beam, hand closed around Jackson’s neck and claws pricking into his flesh. Derek’s red eyes are bright like a camera flash, making spots float in Jackson’s vision. “Did you forget the part where I can kill you before you can make it to the door?” he growls, and Jackson realizes he’s made a terrible mistake.
The claws press harder, breaking the skin, and Jackson gasps. “Please-- Please don’t kill me.” Derek opens his mouth, teeth lengthening, moving straight for Jackson’s throat. “I won’t tell, I swear, please!” Jackson realizes he’s babbling but he can’t help himself, can’t help the terror churning in his belly, can’t help the way his whole body is tense and shivering.
Derek abruptly throws Jackson away from him. Jackson hits the ground hard and slides a few feet. “If you tell anyone, I will hunt you down and personally rip out your throat with my teeth. Get out.” Jackson stares down at the floor, trying to catch his breath. “I said, get out!” Derek roars, and Jackson is scrambling, shoes slipping on the concrete, and running for the stairs.
He doesn’t stop shaking until he’s pulling his car into the driveway of his house.
For the next two weeks, Jackson tries his best not to think about Derek, or about werewolves. He throws himself into lacrosse practice during the week, and spends the weekends trying to drown out the thoughts with alcohol and Lydia. It’s a Saturday afternoon when Lydia shows up at his house and insists he go with her to the mall.
“Shopping, Lydia? Seriously?” Jackson rolls his eyes. “Can’t you get Allison to go with you?”
“What, because drinking yourself into a stupor for the third weekend in a row is so much more interesting? Come on. You can buy me sexy lingerie.” He thinks about trying to argue, but he’s never really been good at refusing Lydia, not when there’s nobody around to see. “Besides,” she adds as he ties his shoes, “Allison is in heat this weekend. I think her dad is too; I overheard her saying something to Scott about her mom and grandpa having some kind of plans for while she and her dad are . . . indisposed. Don’t you think that’s kind of strange? I mean, I thought married couples usually stay together when the omega is in heat.”
Jackson climbs into his Porsche and Lydia slides in beside him, pulling a compact out of her bag and checking her makeup. “I wouldn’t know,” Jackson replies. “No omegas in my family.”
Lydia looks at him sideways, then makes a small amused noise and smiles. “I suppose not.”
Later, when he’s in Lydia’s bedroom with the smell of sex still in the air and her soft body curved around his, he thinks about how they’d gone to see the movie Lydia wanted to because she has a crush on the omega male star, and he thinks about how Lydia is the top student in their math class and can calculate her friends’ heat cycles in her head. He thinks about how Lydia is everything an alpha female should be and he’s grateful that if her mathematical mind has been tracking the dates of his family business trips, she’s never said anything about it. He wonders if Lydia will break up with him when he convinces Derek to bite him; then he thinks about Scott and Allison and decides it’s not worth worrying about.
Jackson is just getting into his car to drive home when he gets a call from Stiles, asking frantically where he is. “You need to get over here right now,” Stiles tells him over the crashing and gunshots in the background. “Scott and Erica are hurt and I’m getting them out, but I can’t fit everyone in my car.”
“Stiles, what the hell are you talking about?” Jackson asks, climbing into the driver’s seat and starting the ignition.
“The hunters, you idiot, what the fuck else would I be talking about? They’ve got the others cornered in the iron works and Derek can’t hold them off forever, so you need to get your ass down here and pick them up.” There’s cursing in the background and the squeal of tires, and all Jackson can think is that he wants no part of this.
“Why should I help you?” he asks. “Why are you even calling me?”
“There’s nobody else for me to call!” Stiles yells. “And your chances of winning the state lacrosse championship are pretty damn low if Isaac and Boyd get killed, so are you coming or what?”
Jackson clenches his fist around the steering wheel. “Fine,” he spits out finally. “Where do you want me to go?” Stiles gives him an address and Jackson pulls out of Lydia’s driveway and takes off. Saving his shot at the state championship is a good motivator, but it occurs to Jackson that helping Derek out might just give him the leverage he needs to get Derek to help him out.
Still, Jackson nearly turns around when he gets near the iron works and hears gunfire. He pulls up behind a warehouse, and Derek must have heard him coming because seconds later he’s crashing through a window holding Isaac in his arms, with Boyd climbing out after. Boyd and Derek are both shifted into their werewolf forms, and Jackson’s heart pounds in his chest at seeing them for the first time. Boyd yanks the door open and climbs into the back seat; Derek hands off Isaac to Boyd and climbs into the front, pulling the door shut and shouting at Jackson to drive. Jackson has taken his car out to abandoned parking lots and rental race tracks to drive fast, but he has never before driven so fast on city streets. He turns when Derek tells him to, tires squealing and slipping on the pavement, and time rushes together with the beating of his heart and the smell of Isaac’s blood dripping out onto his back seat. It’s absurd, but the only thing Jackson can think is that he’s glad the seats are leather so they’ll be easier to clean up.
Finally, Derek tells Jackson to stop the car, and he realizes they’re outside of the animal clinic that Scott works at. He can’t help blurting out, “You guys use a veterinarian instead of a doctor?” which earns him a dirty look. They pile out of the car and Jackson hesitantly follows them inside. He stands awkwardly in the lobby, not quite willing to follow the others back to the examination room, not quite sure if he should leave.
It’s about twenty minutes later when Stiles shuffles out of the back room. Stiles’s clothes are soaked in blood, and he looks both angry and sad; it’s a look Jackson has never seen on him before. He startles when he notices Jackson and his expression shifts into something more familiar. “Heeey, Jackson,” Stiles mumbles.
“Are they . . . ?”
“Fine,” Stiles cuts in. “They’ll be fine. Thanks for, uh.”
“Do you still need a chauffeur? Or can I go home and get some sleep?” Stiles makes a shooing motion with his hands and Jackson rolls his eyes and heads home.
He waits a week before going to find Derek again, long enough to weigh the benefits of no longer being an omega against the risks of being a werewolf, but not so long that Derek could possibly forget about Jackson’s help.
This time, the lights are on in the transit tunnel, and Derek is at the bottom of the steps when Jackson arrives. “Why do you keep coming back here?” Derek asks. He’s leaning against the wall, and his eyes roam over Jackson like he’s going to find the answer written on his body somewhere.
“You know what I want,” Jackson replies.
Derek shakes his head. “The answer is still no. I would think after seeing what the hunters do to us you’d lose interest.” He cocks his head as if he’s listening for something, then adds, “Your heart rate is elevated. You’re almost as scared now as you were then.”
The implication that he’s a coward, that he’s always scared, pushes Jackson’s buttons enough for him to stand a little taller and stare Derek down. “I helped you out last week. If it wasn’t for me, you could have been killed. Now that I’ve helped you, it’s time for you to help me.”
Derek snorts, a smirk twisting his lips. “I appreciate your attempt at manipulation. To be honest, you do have some qualities that might make you a good candidate.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“It’s not worth it.” Derek shrugs and pushes off from the wall, heading back into the train. “You’re an alpha. You’ve already got everything you need. If you become one of us, you won’t be the alpha of this pack. The best you could hope for is to be a beta. There’s a reason I only turn omegas.”
“What about Scott?” Jackson calls after him. Derek stops, but doesn’t turn around.
“I didn’t bite Scott. The alpha who did is dead.”
***
This is a story about Jackson Whittemore. It starts when he is eleven years old, and ends on a cold cement floor in the basement of a burned-out house.
Jackson is more confident than ever that he is going to convince Derek to bite him. So much so that when they’re sitting down to dinner, he tells his parents that he doesn’t want to go with them on their next business trip.
“There’s this drug trial some of the guys at school are in,” he explains. “I’m going to get in too. It’s been really effective, the others don’t even miss school for heat anymore.” Of course it’s not that easy to convince his parents, but Jackson assures them that if the drugs don’t kick in before his heat starts that he’ll lock himself in his room. After all, he’s done this every ten weeks for over a year now -- it’s become a habit. A habit he’d like to break. Jackson also insists that they keep up the pretense that he will be accompanying them, so that he won’t be expected in school.
He has two weeks left before his heat to figure out how to convince Derek. It’s so preoccupying that Danny and Lydia both start to complain about Jackson’s lack of attention. Danny catches Jackson after practice, when they’re the only two left in the locker room, and asks, “What’s going on with you? You’re acting really weird, are you okay?”
“I’m perfect,” Jackson replies, and Danny laughs.
“We all know that, but are you okay?” Danny bumps Jackson with his shoulder, trying to catch his eye. Jackson sighs and shuts his locker, zipping up his bag.
“You remember when I had you look for those files on the drug trial?”
“Yeah, and the company didn’t exist? Did you find out something?”
“More than something. Look, I can’t talk about it, but . . . This could be good.” Because it’s Danny, because Danny is the only one who knows everything there is to know about Jackson, Jackson lets his mask slip and lets Danny see the hope in his eyes.
Danny slings an arm over Jackson’s shoulders and squeezes. “Let me know what happens, okay?”
Danny backs off after that, but Jackson still has to deal with Lydia. He ends up watching “The Notebook” with her twice in one week to make up for ignoring her during lunch at school, and being her human clothing rack while she goes shopping on the weekend. In between, he takes some time to follow Derek and his pack, seeing which days they go to the transit tunnel and which days they go out to the nature preserve. One of the days that he knows the pack is at the transit tunnel, Jackson takes off into the nature preserve and finds his way to the burned-out shell of Derek’s family home. He doesn’t go in, just wanders around the outside, wondering what Derek does in there with no water or power.
Somehow, before he knows it, his parents are packing their bags and Jackson is promising to stay in his room. He hasn’t talked to Derek even though he knows Derek has been aware of Jackson’s presence. The idea of actually telling Derek the truth, saying those words -- it’s something Jackson just can’t deal with. He’s never said it out loud and he doesn’t think he can start now, but he’s not sure how else to convince Derek to give him the bite.
Jackson’s been hiding out at home for a full day since his parents left when the heat begins. The initial symptoms aren’t as long and drawn out now as they were his first time. There’s a much shorter gap between the first butterflies in his stomach and the crash of arousal that hits him like a big rig these days, only about an hour and a half. When he feels tickling in his belly and sweat beading on his forehead, Jackson realizes that he doesn’t have to tell Derek anything; he can show him.
He pops a couple pills to help him focus, takes a deep breath, and unlocks the door to his room. It’s a Wednesday, which means that Derek will be at the house, and for the first time in his life Jackson wishes he had a less flashy car so that he might have a chance of getting around town without anyone noticing. It’s the middle of the day, so everyone he knows should still be in school, but Jackson doesn’t know how long this will take or what sort of condition he’ll be in when he has to drive back home.
By the time he gets to Derek’s house, Jackson doesn’t have much time left. He doesn’t bother knocking, just walks right into the house, calling Derek’s name. There’s no answer, and Jackson’s stomach drops at the thought that he might be wrong and Derek might be at the transit tunnel, because there is no way he’s going to be able to drive back across town like this. Jackson searches the house, up the stairs, then down to the basement, and finds no sign that anyone is home. He leans back against the basement door, knocking his head on the wall to try to break through the fog enough to come up with a plan. There is no plan, though, and he finds himself sliding to the floor and cradling his head in his hands.
The sound of footsteps close by startle him back to reality a few minutes later, and Jackson looks up to find Derek looming over him. “We had this discussion already. Get out of here,” he snaps.
Jackson struggles to his feet, wiping sweat off his brow. “You said you wouldn’t bite an alpha,” he says.
“That’s right,” Derek replies slowly, taking in Jackson’s ragged appearance. His nostrils flare and Jackson wonders if Derek can smell the pheromones. “Jackson, are you--”
And there it is: the crash of the heat rushing through his body. The pills he took have worn off and the precious time of sanity is past, and Jackson finds himself for the first time in full-on heat with another person in the same room. He moves unconsciously, barely realizing that he’s clutching at Derek’s jacket, pressing his lips to Derek’s, shamelessly grinding their hips together.
The pain of Derek’s claws digging into his shoulders brings a small measure of awareness back to Jackson, and he realizes that Derek has pushed him away and is holding him at arm’s length and saying something to him. The heat is too much, though, and without any medication to calm his desire, Jackson won’t be able to think anything coherent until he’s had an orgasm. Derek is holding him far enough away that Jackson can’t reach for him, so instead he reaches a hand into his own jeans and takes hold of himself, vaguely aware that he’s making the most embarrassing noises but unable to stop. The first rush of heat is always the fastest, and it’s only a few short moments before Jackson is coming in his pants.
Reality seeps back in as Jackson catches his breath, and his cheeks flush with shame. Derek isn’t looking at him, but his posture is rigid and his arms are tense. The claws have retracted but Derek is still holding Jackson as far away as possible. “Sorry,” Jackson mumbles, “I’ve always been alone, when . . .”
Derek meets Jackson’s eyes then and lets go of his shoulders, taking a few steps back into the basement. “You’re an omega,” he says, letting the cold truth out into the open. Jackson looks away. “Now I know why you want the bite so badly. How did you even get here? You know how dangerous it is for an omega in heat to be out, not to mention it’s a miracle you didn’t crash your car.”
Jackson wants to answer, but the second wave of his heat is starting to pick up, and he finds himself lurching toward Derek, drawn to his body like a moth to a flame. The heat doesn’t care about male or female, alpha or omega -- it wants any warm body it can find, which is why omegas are always locked away to ride it out alone or with their spouse. There’s no such thing as consent for an omega in heat. “Derek, please,” Jackson finds himself saying, reaching out for him.
Derek laughs and lets Jackson come into his space, lets him touch his arm, his chest. “What is it you want, Jackson?” Derek breaths into his ear. “Do you want me to bite you? Or do you want me to fuck you?”
Jackson shivers and presses against Derek, burying his face in Derek’s shirt with a choked sob. “Please,” he says; there’s nothing else that he can say. “Please.” He feels the vibration of Derek’s chuckle before he hears it, and presses closer.
“You’re lucky I’m not human, so your pheromones don’t affect me.” Derek’s hand comes to rest on the back of Jackson’s head, tugging his hair until he looks up into Derek’s eyes. “I’ve never bitten someone during a heat before,” he says conversationally. “It might kill you instead of turning you, you know that, right?”
Jackson blinks, staring into Derek’s eyes as they change from pale green to glowing red. The bite might kill him, but Jackson can’t live like this anymore. “Please,” he says, one last time.
***
This is a story about Jackson Whittemore. It ends on a cold cement floor in the basement of a burned-out house.
When Jackson comes to, he can barely move. All he can feel is the wet warmth of blood spilling out and pooling on the floor next to him, his body gradually cooling as it drains away. There’s a lot of blood, more than he thought he had in his entire body, and the poison from Derek’s fangs stings its way through his veins. He thinks he hears the sound of Derek’s footsteps receding up the stairs as he passes out of consciousness again.
The bite might kill him, or it might turn him.
It’s a win-win situation for Jackson.
***
Massive thanks to vongchild for cheerleading and beta reading! Also thanks to quigonejinn for providing feedback and prosodi for brainstorming.
Also at AO3.
So this idea came about after an extended conversation with vongchild about how alpha/beta/omega fics tend to have confused biology. She wrote up this lovely essay about the topic which I highly recommend you read! In any case, going along with the issues pointed out in her essay, I came up with this idea for a different spin on the usual werewolf omegaverse. There are no human betas in this universe.
Notes: Boyd is on the lacrosse team in this story. It’s up to you whether you want to assume he joined after being turned or not. Androcrur is an actual drug. I don’t actually know anything about its real uses.
***
This is a story about Jackson Whittemore.
***
This is a story about Jackson Whittemore. It starts when he is eleven years old, and ends on a cold cement floor in the basement of a burned-out house.
***
This is a story about Jackson Whittemore. It starts when he is eleven years old and attends a school assembly for sex ed. They play a video on the big screen in the auditorium, talking about male and female genitalia, line drawings demonstrating erections and breasts and sex and sperm and eggs, and there’s muffled giggling from all of the kids in the audience. There’s a video of a live birth, which has Jackson and his best friend Danny cringing but trying to pretend they’re too tough to be grossed out.
There’s also a video about alphas and omegas, and about how omegas are only fertile when they’re in heat every 8 to 12 weeks, and alphas have their fertility triggered by omega heat pheromones. It talks about condoms and how you should use protection even if neither partner is in heat, because of sexually transmitted diseases. The video shows photos of female alphas and female omegas, and male alphas and male omegas, and talks about how alphas on average are bigger and stronger than omegas, but not always. It talks about the omega civil rights movement of the 1960’s, when omegas got the right to vote. It talks about how alphas need to be responsible and take care of their omegas.
The video talks about how omega kids go through their first heat when they’re 14 or 15, and what to expect from it. If you’re feeling sudden sexual urges, combined with a fever, tell your parents or a teacher right away so they can get you home and locked away safely, the video says. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. When your first heat is over, your parents will take you to get your ear pierced and give you your omega earring, and you have to wear it all the time so that people will know how to take care of you. Keep a calendar so you can track your heat cycles and let the school know, and they’ll send your homework home for you during the three or four days you’re in heat each cycle.
Jackson and Danny tease each other about heat, but it’s just joking because they know that they’re both going to be alphas. After all, they’re both big and strong for their age.
That night, Jackson asks his mom and dad why neither of them wears an omega earring or goes into heat. There’s an uncomfortable glance between them, and Jackson’s mom tells him it’s because they’re both alphas. It takes Jackson a minute to process what that means before he asks how they had him, if neither of them was an omega.
This is how Jackson finds out he’s adopted.
***
This is a story about Jackson Whittemore. He is 15 years old and he’s been dating Lydia Martin since seventh grade. Any day now Lydia might go into her first heat; her sixteenth birthday is approaching and it’s going to happen before then. Jackson isn’t worried. Sometimes he tells Lydia about how he’s going to take care of her like an alpha should, but Lydia just rolls her eyes. It makes Jackson want her more.
It’s in fourth period biology when Jackson starts to feel ill. At first he thinks maybe it’s from something in the cafeteria lunch he ate, but he feels more feverish than queasy. He tries to ignore it and focus on the frog he and Danny are dissecting, but his hand trembles and he accidentally cuts the frog’s stomach open.
“Jackson, are you okay?” Danny asks, while Jackson wipes sweat off his forehead.
“I think I might be coming down with that flu that’s been going around,” Jackson confesses. Danny doesn’t look like he believes it, but he doesn’t say anything about the way that Jackson gets more and more fidgety while they finish their work.
When the bell rings, Jackson takes off for the bathroom and locks himself in a stall. He listens to the other students rushing in during the passing period, and then gradually leaving, until the bell for fifth period rings and he’s alone again. The fever is getting worse, and it’s not just that anymore. Jackson can’t stop thinking about Lydia, and some part of him knows what this means but he can’t accept it. He buries his head in his hands and takes deep, shuddering breaths.
The bathroom door creaks open, then closed. “Jackson? Are you in here?” It’s Danny, of course it’s Danny, who is in all of his classes and always knows when something is wrong no matter how much Jackson tries to hide it. Danny’s shoes appear on the other side of the stall door, and Jackson unlatches it to let him in. “It’s not the flu, is it?” Danny asks quietly.
“You can’t--” Jackson’s words catch in his throat, and he coughs. “You can’t tell anyone, Danny, please, don’t tell anyone.” Danny bites his lip, and Jackson grabs at Danny’s hands, grip slipping because his palms are sweating so much. “Please.”
“I’m telling your parents, Jackson, they need to know, but I won’t tell anyone else. I promise.” Danny pulls Jackson up and helps him over to the sink to wash some of the sweat off of his face. “I’m taking you home and then I’m calling your parents. Lucky for you I have my license already.”
“Whatever, you know I’m a better driver than you are and when I turn 16 I’m getting a Porsche,” Jackson grumbles. “Guess I’ll have to make do with your second-hand Toyota until then.”
It’s not a long walk to the car, and Danny takes them through the most circuitous route so that nobody will see them, stopping only to poke his head into their English class and tell the teacher that Jackson has the flu and he’s taking him home. Jackson feels like his skin is on fire, and every wrinkle and shift of his clothing prickles and burns. During the ride home Jackson is preternaturally aware of the heat of Danny’s body and the sound of his breathing. He can’t keep himself still and keeps shifting in his seat, crossing one leg and then the other, trying to ease the sudden tightness of his jeans. “It’s okay,” Danny murmurs. “You’re okay. We’re almost there.” Normally Jackson would shrug him off, or tell him to shut up, but right now he’s grateful for the repetitive words and the sound of Danny’s voice, because his mind is racing and he’s never felt so out of control of his own body.
By the time they pull up in front of Jackson’s house, Jackson can’t concentrate enough to undo his seatbelt. Danny comes around to the passenger side of the car when he sees that Jackson’s not getting out on his own, and leans over him to release the catch. Jackson draws in a sharp breath at the closeness of Danny’s body, and notices for the first time the flush rising on Danny’s cheeks. Pheromones, he thinks distantly, as Danny pulls away and Jackson climbs out of the car.
Danny follows him into the house and up the stairs, stopping in the doorway of Jackson’s room. Jackson drops his backpack and turns around, stopping awkwardly and looking back at Danny. “Are you coming in?” he asks, trying to sound less uncertain than he feels.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Danny straightens his shirt absently, looking everywhere but at Jackson. “I’m-- I’m going to shut the door, okay? I’ll call your parents and I’ll wait right outside your door until they get here.”
“Danny,” Jackson breathes, watching his hand reach out for Danny’s arm as if it’s being controlled by someone else.
“No.” Jackson can’t disguise the hurt on his face at the sharp tone of Danny’s voice, but he drops his hand away. Danny looks apologetic. “You’re not my type,” he offers up, and Jackson smiles a little at their oldest joke.
“I’m everyone’s type,” he replies, but he shuts the door between them anyway. “Just-- Talk to me, okay? So I know you’re still there?”
“Yeah. I’m gonna call your mom now.” Jackson takes off his clothes to cool down while he listens to Danny explaining what’s going on to his mom. He can’t hear what his mom is saying, but he can’t help but think that he’s been a disappointment to them. To adopt a child, raise him up to be a leader, and then have him turn out to be an omega? Jackson slams his fist into the wall in frustration. He knows what his body wants now -- it’s impossible to ignore the evidence between his legs -- but he feels like his body has betrayed him, so he ignores it. Something drips off of his face onto the floor, and he’s not sure if it’s sweat or tears.
“Your mom’s on her way home. She said she’d pick up some medicine for the symptoms and be here in half an hour,” Danny says from outside. “Are you okay in there?”
Jackson laughs. “Yeah, perfect. My entire life is a disaster.”
“Look, Jackson . . . “ There’s a scraping sound from outside, like Danny is sliding his back down the door to sit on the floor. “I don’t care if you’re an--”
“Don’t say it!”
“Okay, fine, but I don’t care. Your parents aren’t going to care either.”
Jackson lays down on his bed and stares at the ceiling. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He can hear Danny sigh through the door and knows exactly what expression is on Danny’s face.
There’s silence for a while, and then Danny asks, “Do you need anything? Water? Lotion?” Jackson groans, trying to think about anything except the throbbing between his legs.
“No, just-- Just read me the assigned reading for History or something.” There’s a zip and a shuffling sound, and then Danny starts reading about the Hundred Years’ War.
***
This is a story about Jackson Whittemore, whose parents take him on business trips with them once every couple of months so that nobody will know he’s an omega. He’s been dating Lydia Martin since seventh grade, and people think their relationship won’t last because a relationship between two alphas almost never does. Jackson is the captain of the lacrosse team and spends an hour a day in the gym lifting weights.
Only Jackson isn’t the captain of the lacrosse team anymore, he’s the co-captain. The fact that Scott McCall turned out to be an alpha sticks in his craw enough, but somehow McCall is getting better and better at lacrosse. Jackson puts in more hours practicing, trying to make up for the omega biology he’s stuck with, hating McCall for the physical advantage being an alpha gives him. At least that idiot Stilinski McCall hangs out with turned out to be an omega.
Strange things are going on in Beacon Hills, too. People are dying in animal attacks, and Jackson narrowly avoids being involved in one when he and Lydia pull up to a video store only to find the police marking it off as a crime scene. Jackson hears about what’s going on in town in bits and pieces, listening to his parents talking about it over breakfast. He pulls the newspaper over to take a look while he’s eating his cereal, and is surprised that he recognizes the man in the wanted drawing on the front page. Dark hair, intense eyes, silver omega earring dangling from his left ear -- Derek Hale is definitely the guy who’s been hanging around school looking for McCall.
Jackson doesn’t really care about any of that though. He’s too preoccupied with trying to chart out his heat cycle to identify which games he’s going to have to miss and to see if it will interfere with the state lacrosse championships. Second to lacrosse, he focuses on getting top grades, and after that all Jackson really cares about is trying to find a way to make Lydia stop hanging out with Allison so much, because hanging out with Allison means hanging out with Scott, and the only thing more infuriating than Scott being an alpha who is good at lacrosse is the fact that Scott seems to think this is somehow a bad thing.
When he gets home from a “business trip” with his parents to LA and sees that the newspaper has a cover story about Allison’s aunt being found dead, and how she had been behind the Hale house fire, Jackson thinks maybe Lydia won’t want to be friends with Allison anymore.
Two weeks after that, Isaac Lahey suddenly starts kicking ass at lacrosse. More importantly, Isaac is actually playing during a game when he’s scheduled to be out for his heat cycle. Jackson corners him in the locker room after the game, when Isaac is toweling off his hair. He gets into Isaac’s personal space and flicks Isaac’s earring. “Thought you had to sit this one out.”
Isaac’s eyes dart around the room, then he laughs nervously. “Yeah, there’s this new drug trial going on. Seems to be working pretty well.” He pulls on a shirt and glances at Jackson with a raised eyebrow. “What’s it to you? What do you care about omega heats?”
Jackson shrugs his shoulders in a slow roll, maybe not quite as nonchalant as he’d like. “I’m team captain, Lahey, I need to know who’s going to be playing. When should I expect you to be out again?”
Isaac ducks his head, fiddling with his earring. “I’ll be playing in every game.”
Later that night, Jackson asks his parents if they know about any drug trials for heat suppressants going on. His dad assures him that they follow the field very closely, and if there were any clinical trials going on, they would have signed him up.
Still, Isaac keeps showing up to practice and playing in every game. Then one day Erica Reyes shows up at school when she’s supposed to be out for her heat, wearing a miniskirt and a tube top, and acting like the past couple years never happened at all, like the horrible incident where she went into her first heat in class and it triggered an epileptic seizure was something that everyone could just forget about. She starts hanging around with Isaac, and Jackson overhears her telling someone else about joining the drug trial.
The news spreads around school quickly, and Jackson’s not surprised when Danny asks him if he’s in the drug trial too. They’re alone in Danny’s bedroom after school, working on homework for Econ, and Jackson fiddles with his pen. “I wanted to talk to you about that, actually. My parents say there aren’t any drug trials going on.” Jackson hesitates, then adds, “I was wondering if you could hack into the school’s files and see if they have any information about it.” Danny is sensitive about the time he got arrested for hacking, and Jackson usually avoids mentioning it.
Danny looks at him for a minute, then says, “Give me your laptop. If anyone finds out, I had nothing to do with it.” Jackson nods hands over the laptop, then goes back to listing bullet points about Alexander Hamilton’s economic ideas, listening to Danny’s fingers clicking rapidly on the keyboard.
Two hours later, Jackson has finished his homework and is reading ahead in Brave New World when Danny shuts the lid of the laptop. “I don’t get it,” Danny says. “I got into the school’s files, and there’s the name of the same pharmaceutical company listed for Isaac, Erica, and Boyd, but the company doesn’t exist.”
“What? How is that possible?” Jackson asks, brows drawing together.
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s some kind of secret government thing?” Jackson groans and tosses his book aside, falling back on Danny’s bed. “You could just ask them,” Danny says mildly.
“Yeah, sure, that wouldn’t look suspicious at all. What possible reason would Jackson Whittemore have to care about where an omega is getting heat suppressors from?”
Danny gets up from his desk and joins Jackson on the bed. “Jackson, maybe it’s time--”
“No!” Jackson grabs Danny’s arm, releasing him when he realizes Danny is wincing at the pain. “No. I’m going to get whatever they have, and we are never going to have to talk about this again.” Danny sighs and opens his textbook.
***
This is a story about Jackson Whittemore, who has spent the past month carefully observing his classmates. He has seen Isaac, Erica, Boyd, and even Scott and Stiles sometimes get into a black Camaro after school -- a black Camaro driven by Derek Hale. Some days Derek is wearing sunglasses and grinning, and the sunlight glints off of his earring as he guns the accelerator. Some days he looks angry; those are the days that Scott and Stiles get into his car. Jackson’s not sure what’s going on, but Derek Hale is the common factor. Despite the omega earring, he’s seen Derek around school every couple of days, so unless his heat lines up too closely with Jackson’s “business trips,” Derek’s got to be involved with the heat suppressant drugs as well.
Jackson doesn’t follow the car at first. Instead, he starts paying more attention to Isaac and Erica’s whispered conversations in chemistry class, to Isaac and Boyd’s conversations in lacrosse practice. He starts encouraging Lydia’s friendship with Allison, so that he has an excuse to listen in on Scott and Stiles at the lunch table, now that Scott and Allison are in one of the on-again phases of their on-again-off-again relationship. All he’s really managed to find out is that Erica, Isaac, and Boyd do what Derek asks them to, and Scott and Stiles argue endlessly about whether or not to listen to Derek.
Jackson takes the opportunity to ask Scott some questions while they’re waiting in line at the movie theater to buy popcorn for Lydia and Allison. “So I saw you hanging around with Derek Hale the other day,” Jackson opens, watching Scott carefully for a reaction. There it is -- a twitch in the muscle of Scott’s jaw, a slight clench of his fingers. “He’s involved with that drug trial that Isaac’s in, right?”
“What-- Uh, what makes you say that?” Scott asks, not looking Jackson in the eye.
“I dunno, maybe the fact that he keeps picking up Isaac, Erica, and Boyd after school? Or maybe the fact that he’s an omega but never seems to go into heat?” Jackson tries to keep his voice indifferent, as if he has no interest other than friendly curiosity.
“Oh, yeah.” Scott’s eyes scan the menu board. “Yeah, I think he takes them to the uh, clinic. After school.”
“So what are you doing with him? You’re an alpha, what’s in it for you?”
Scott fidgets, pulling out his wallet and looking at the sadly small number of bills in it, then blurts out, “It’s Stiles. Stiles wants to get in on the trial so I’m helping him out.” He looks at Jackson, finally, and smiles. “Moral support, you know?”
“Oh,” Jackson says. “Sure.” It makes sense; Scott and Stiles have been friends forever, and Jackson can’t blame Stiles for wanting to get rid of his heat cycles. Still, he gets the feeling there’s something Scott isn’t telling him, but he can’t dig any deeper without giving himself away.
Two days later, Jackson follows Derek’s car after school. He loses track of the Camaro somewhere around the entrance to the Beacon Hills nature preserve. Jackson pulls up in the parking lot and gets out of his car, leaning back on the hood and looking up at the trees. He tries to think of everything he knows about Derek Hale, everything he’s picked up from the local newspapers. He remembers hearing about the fire when it happened, that only a few members of the Hale family survived. There was a picture of the Hale house in the paper for the story about Allison’s aunt as well, and Jackson remembers it was set in the middle of the woods -- maybe near the nature preserve. He’s thinking about whether or not to bother taking off on one of the trails into the park when the sound of rustling leaves gets his attention.
Jackson looks around, startled by the noise, and there he is. Derek Hale. Standing not ten feet away, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, and Jackson has no idea how Derek managed to sneak up so close before he heard him. There are no other cars in the parking lot. “Why are you following me?” Derek asks.
Jackson swallows, suddenly nervous. “What are you talking about? I’m not following you.”
Derek raises an eyebrow. “You just decided to drive out to the nature preserve? Alone?”
Jackson puts on his best arrogant alpha face and replies, “I needed some air.” Derek takes a step forward and Jackson can’t help backing up, his back pressing against the side of his car. Derek may be an omega but he sure as hell doesn’t act like one, or look like one for that matter. Maybe it’s the effect of the heat suppressant drugs, but Derek is big and brawny, and despite all the time Jackson spends in the gym he’s pretty sure that Derek could kick his ass if he decided to.
Derek laughs at Jackson’s reaction, and advances until he’s crowding Jackson back against the car, close enough that Jackson can feel Derek’s body heat. Jackson’s skin prickles uncomfortably, reminding him that his next heat is coming up in a few days. “Stay out of my business,” Derek breathes in Jackson’s ear. “If I catch you following me again, I’ll slash your tires and break all the windows of your fancy little Porsche.”
With that, Derek’s gone -- gone so fast that by the time Jackson catches his breath there’s no trace of the man.
Even if Jackson hadn’t been rattled by his run-in with Derek, he wouldn’t have had another chance to follow him for over a week anyway. Jackson gets on a plane with his parents for Denver the next day, and spends three days straight shut in a hotel room, popping Androcrur to reduce the sexual urges and Tylenol to bring down his fever. Even with the medication, it’s a bad heat, and when he gets back to Beacon Hills, Jackson still feels like he’s fighting through a mental fog.
Something is different at school. A new principal took over in the few days Jackson was gone: Allison’s grandfather. Scott and Stiles are acting even stranger than usual, and at lacrosse practice Jackson thinks for a minute that Scott and Boyd are going to start fighting. Even after Coach runs over to to stop them, there’s tension in the air and Boyd is pulling back a fist, until Stiles grabs onto Scott’s arms and Isaac grabs Boyd’s and the two are pulled apart. Jackson thinks the heat haze must still be affecting him, because for a minute it looks like Boyd’s eyes are glowing yellow, and like there is something sharp sticking out of the end of Scott’s gloves.
After practice, Jackson picks up one of Scott’s discarded gloves from the field. There are small, fingernail-sized holes in all of the fingertips.
“What’s up with Boyd and McCall?” Jackson asks Danny as they’re getting dressed after showering. Danny glances at him, frowning.
“I don’t know. Everyone seems like something’s bothering them today. Erica smashed her graduated cylinder in chemistry because the reaction wasn’t working, Isaac got up and left in the middle of English class, and Scott and Boyd have been glaring at each other all day.” Danny shuts his locker and shoulders his gym bag. “Stiles is the only one who seems remotely norm--”
Danny is cut off by a sudden loud clanking sound, and they both turn around to see a pile of chains falling out of Stiles’s locker. Jackson raises his eyebrows at Danny, who gives him a helpless shrug.
Jackson wanders over by where Scott and Stiles are whispering frantically at each other, pretending he’s looking for his helmet. “--need to call Derek,” he catches Stiles saying. “You know my heat could start any minute and I can’t help you when I’m in heat.”
“I’ll be fine, Stiles,” Scott replies, but his voice is uncharacteristically angry. “Just drop me off on your way home and lock yourself in your room.” Stiles looks conflicted, but nods. Jackson grabs a helmet off the bench and heads back to his locker.
Following Stiles is easier than following Derek was. Jackson pulls up a couple blocks away from Scott’s house and watches Scott get out of the car and stalk into the house. He thinks about following Stiles when Stiles’s Jeep starts up, but stays where he is, parked with his headlights off. Scott had said that he was helping Stiles get into the drug trial, but if Stiles is still going into heat then he must not have started taking anything yet. The conversation earlier made it sound like there was something wrong with Scott, though, so Jackson decides he can afford to spend a little while keeping an eye on things. He switches on the radio in his car and relaxes, watching the lights turn on and off inside Scott’s house. The sun has just gone down, and as the night darkens Jackson can see the full moon rising over the top of the treeline.
It’s been about half an hour when another car pulls up across the street from Scott’s house. It’s not Scott’s mom, though; Jackson thinks he sees four men in the car. They look like they’re watching Scott’s house as well, and one of them is holding binoculars. For a while, nothing happens. Jackson drums his fingers on the steering wheel and is about to go home when there is a loud crash from inside the house. The other car’s doors open and the men pile out, and Jackson’s heart starts hammering in his chest when he sees that they’re all carrying guns. He fumbles in his pocket for his phone, and is about to dial -- Scott? 911? -- when there’s another crash and a shape comes rushing out of Scott’s bedroom window and takes off down the street, heading toward where Jackson is parked. One of the men fires and misses; there is some yelling and they get back in the car.
At first Jackson thinks it’s Scott that he sees run past his window. It certainly looks like Scott, but as Jackson watches him run down the street in his rearview mirror, the runner drops down to all fours and runs like an animal. There’s a squeal of tires and the other car rushes by in pursuit.
Jackson sits in his car, phone held tightly in one hand, breathing heavily, for nearly a full minute. He draws in a deep breath and stares at his phone, then dials Stiles. It rings four times, and Stiles picks up just when Jackson thinks it’s going to go to voicemail. Stiles’s voice is breathy and rough, and Jackson abruptly remembers that Stiles was expecting his heat to start.
“Stiles, you need to tell me what the fuck is going on because I just saw your buddy Scott jump out of a second story window and get shot at,” Jackson says, putting all of his effort into sounding angry instead of scared.
“What? Fuck. Fuck, I need to call Derek, is Scott okay? What happened?” Stiles asks, frantic and confused.
“He ran off,” Jackson says. “At least, I think it was Scott, because he ran on all fours like a fucking animal, Stiles.”
There is a clattering noise on the other end of the phone and muffled cursing. “Jackson, you need to trust me on this. Go home and lock all your doors and windows, and if you know what’s good for you forget that you saw anything tonight, okay?”
“Right, like I can just forget that there are cars full of guys with guns cruising the neighborhood shooting people? Tell me what the fuck is going on!”
Stiles makes a frustrated noise, then says, “Look, I can’t-- I’m in heat, okay? I can barely think and you want me to-- I have to call Derek right now to make sure Scott is okay because I can’t leave my room and talking to you is at the bottom of my priority list.”
“Stiles? Stiles!” Jackson yells into the phone, but Stiles has hung up. Jackson stares at the phone, then slams it down into the passenger seat. He closes his eyes and leans his head back against the headrest, remembering the blurred form that ran past his car window. It was Scott, it had to be, but it didn’t look right, didn’t look human. And then when it got down on all fours, and ran like a--
A howl rings out in the distance. It sounds like a wolf. There haven’t been wolves in California in sixty years, and Jackson suddenly puts two and two together with the full moon shining in through his moonroof and the memory of golden eyes and torn lacrosse gloves and the past few months’ string of animal attacks. He starts laughing, a wild giggle that bubbles up involuntarily and grows into hysterical laughter. The pharmaceutical company doesn’t exist because there is no drug trial; Erica and Isaac and Boyd and Derek don’t go into heat because they’re not even human. They’re werewolves.
***
This is a story about Jackson Whittemore, who discovered last night that werewolves are real, that some of his friends are werewolves, and that there are people who want to kill werewolves rolling through Beacon Hills with not-very-concealed weapons.
He spent the night at home with his doors and windows locked, staring at his phone, unable to decide whether or not to call Danny and tell him everything. The sleepless night is catching up with him now in homeroom, even though he snuck a cup of coffee from the pot his mom made this morning. Stiles isn’t in class, but that’s no surprise. A typical heat lasts 3-4 days, so Stiles won’t be back until next week.
Scott shows up in third period English. He looks exhausted, but he’s there, so Jackson figures the men with guns can’t have caught him after all.
Isaac is there by lunchtime, but Boyd and Erica don’t show up all day.
Jackson thinks about confronting Scott, but he’s too tired to come up with a good opening. He can feel Scott glancing at him throughout the day, though; it’s enough that Danny catches him in the locker room before lacrosse practice and asks, “What’s up with you and Scott? He keeps staring at you.”
For a moment, Jackson considers spilling everything. Instead, he shrugs and says, “Maybe he’s got the hots for me. Jealous?” Danny just rolls his eyes and straps on his helmet.
By Friday, everyone but Stiles is back in school as if nothing happened. Jackson has decided on a plan of action, and when they’re taking a break during practice he sits down on the bench next to Isaac. “I know your little secret,” he says, pitching his voice so that nobody else can hear them. Still, he sees Scott’s head swivel around to look at them; Jackson adds super hearing to his mental list of werewolf biological changes.
Isaac nods at Scott, unruffled, and leans back easily against the bleachers behind him, watching Scott turn his attention back to lacrosse. “What secret is that?” he asks mildly.
“The one related to the full moon last night, and the reason you don’t go into heat anymore? What is it, a bite that does it?” Jackson examines Isaac out of the corner of his eye; Isaac’s lips twist into a smirk.
“Nobody will believe you if you tell them,” he says.
“So what, you just go around biting people and turning them into werewolves? Did you bite Erica?”
Isaac shakes his head and grins. “Only an alpha’s bite can turn someone.”
“Like Scott? Did Scott turn you?”
Isaac laughs, and says, “Scott isn’t an alpha.”
Jackson blinks in surprise. “Of course he is, he’s never gone into heat.”
Isaac leans in toward Jackson, until their shoulders touch. “Scott was an alpha human, just like I was an omega human. Our biology is different now.” Coach’s whistle blows before Jackson can formulate a response, and Isaac heads back out onto the field.
Jackson has plans with Lydia after practice and doesn’t get a chance to talk to Isaac again. He spends the weekend alternating between entertaining Lydia and playing Call of Duty with Danny, letting what he’s learned about werewolves marinate in the back of his mind.
Sunday afternoon, he texts Stiles: Heat done? Need to talk.
Ten minutes later, a Skype notification pops up on his computer. Jackson accepts the call and Stiles’s face appears on the screen. “Before I say anything,” Stiles opens, “tell me what you know.” Stiles has bags under his eyes, remnants of a long, sleepless heat cycle, but he’s fiddling with a pen and jiggling his leg rapidly.
Jackson rolls his eyes, but replies, “Scott, Erica, Isaac, Boyd, and Derek are werewolves. They have super hearing, can run like animals, and being a werewolf makes you good at lacrosse. Scott, at least, has some guys trying to kill him. They turned into werewolves after getting bitten by an alpha werewolf, which is somehow different from an alpha human. I’m guessing Derek is the alpha werewolf, right?”
Stiles cringes and blows air out of his cheeks. “Yeah, that’s about right. Look, dude, this is some serious shit and you really don’t want to get involved in it.”
“Stiles, I don’t want to get involved in your ‘serious shit.’ Just tell me everything you know about werewolves so I can make sure the lacrosse team wins the state championship.” It took Jackson a while to think up that excuse and he hopes he delivered it effectively, because the last thing he needs is for Stiles Stilinski to find out that he’s an-- that he’s not an alpha. It’s not entirely a lie: he does care about winning the state championship and if his best players are going to screw things up with werewolf shit he needs to know. Stiles’s lips press together in a tight line, and Jackson relaxes, confident that he believes the half-truth.
“Okay, fine, but I’m only telling you because I want to win state too. Just promise me that you won’t tell anyone else, okay?” Jackson just stares at Stiles, with one eyebrow raised. Stiles throws his hands up in the air. “Oh my god. Fine,” he says, and starts talking.
Some of it is what Jackson expects to hear, but some of it is new. He expected that werewolves have an enhanced sense of smell and the full moon drives them nuts, and he’d pretty much figured out that there were werewolf hunters in town, but he wasn’t expecting that werewolves could heal pretty much instantly from almost anything, and he really wasn’t expecting that the hunters were Allison’s family.
The most important thing he learns in his hour on Skype with Stiles is that werewolves work in packs, and that an alpha leads a pack of betas. When he finds out that a wolf without a pack is an omega, and that werewolves can move fluidly between these roles, he realizes why Scott is the only one who seems to really have a problem with what he’s become (aside from the obvious problem of Allison being related to hunters). Scott was an alpha as a human, which put him on track to being respected and powerful, but as a werewolf he’s an omega. Isaac, on the other hand, was an omega human, destined for a life of limited opportunity and fewer rights, but as a werewolf he’s a beta and might someday even be an alpha of his own pack.
As an omega human, becoming a werewolf only gives you upward mobility. It’s a win-win situation, especially so for Jackson because he’s managed to stay under the radar and never get an omega earring. Getting rid of his heat cycles would guarantee that everyone would view him as an alpha human for the rest of his life.
All he has to do is convince Derek Hale to bite him.
Jackson doesn’t make a move for the next few weeks. He needs the bite before his next heat, but it’s a couple months off, so he has some time to come up with a plan. Derek intimidates him, not that he wants to admit it, and Jackson has a feeling that just asking politely isn’t going to get him what he wants. He needs to have a backup plan, something he can use to persuade Derek that biting Jackson is in his best interests. When Allison and Scott are suddenly broken up again, and Principal Argent has installed security cameras all over the school, he thinks he’s come up with something to use as leverage.
The next step of his plan is finding out where Derek lives, and what his habits are. He needs to be sure that he can get Derek alone, without the rest of the pack interfering. A few casual questions to Erica in History class, to Scott in lacrosse, to Stiles in Chemistry, and he’s got most of the information he needs. Still, he doesn’t know exactly where Derek lives, and he’s sure as hell not going to try following Derek directly again. Instead, Jackson starts following Stiles after school, or sometimes trailing after Scott’s bicycle. Most of the time this plan lands him at Scott’s house, Stiles’s house, or the vet’s office, but eventually they lead him to an abandoned transit tunnel in the warehouse district.
Jackson waits until the full moon is approaching, guessing that if it has some sway over Derek it might help trigger Derek’s instincts to build his pack. He has a free period while everyone else is still in class, and takes it to drive over to the transit tunnel. The entry isn’t exactly welcoming -- the tile is cracked and the railing of the stairs is coated in mold. Jackson starts to feel nervous when he nears the bottom of the stairs and the darkness closes in around him. There is a dim glow coming from further down the corridor, and he carefully walks forward, using the backlight on his phone as a flashlight.
“Derek?” Jackson swallows. “I know you can hear me. I just want to talk.” He turns the corner and finds himself in a large space with light filtering in from window wells. It’s still dark, but he thinks he can make out the outline of a train car.
Electric lights flicker on abruptly overhead and Jackson spins around. Derek is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. The sleeves of his shirt are tight and pushed up to the elbows, and Jackson tries not to think about how Derek’s muscles are strong enough to crush his bones. “I thought I told you to stay out of my business,” Derek says. His eyes flash red, and Jackson starts to take an involuntary step back, but catches himself and steps forward instead. His heart is pounding in his chest, but he walks toward Derek despite his nerves.
“I want to be one of you,” he says. “I want you to bite me.”
Derek chuckles, dipping his head, then looks at Jackson with raised eyebrows. “What possible reason would I have to do that?”
Jackson has rehearsed this in front of his bedroom mirror, practicing his expressions and his words to be as persuasive as possible. He knows how to use his looks to his best advantage, how to show off his strength, and when he steps closer to Derek to answer him he concentrates on making the best possible display of himself. “Because you need to strengthen your pack, and you know that someone like me would be everything you need.”
Derek shakes his head, an amused smile playing at his lips, and turns his back on Jackson heading toward the train car. It’s a dismissal, and anger boils up in Jackson. “Wait!” he yells, grabbing at Derek’s arm. Derek shakes his hand off, but doesn’t turn around. Jackson steels himself to go with his backup plan. “If you don’t give me what I want, I’ll go straight to Principal Argent and tell him where he can find you and everything I know about your little pack.”
Before Jackson can even inhale, Derek has him up against a support beam, hand closed around Jackson’s neck and claws pricking into his flesh. Derek’s red eyes are bright like a camera flash, making spots float in Jackson’s vision. “Did you forget the part where I can kill you before you can make it to the door?” he growls, and Jackson realizes he’s made a terrible mistake.
The claws press harder, breaking the skin, and Jackson gasps. “Please-- Please don’t kill me.” Derek opens his mouth, teeth lengthening, moving straight for Jackson’s throat. “I won’t tell, I swear, please!” Jackson realizes he’s babbling but he can’t help himself, can’t help the terror churning in his belly, can’t help the way his whole body is tense and shivering.
Derek abruptly throws Jackson away from him. Jackson hits the ground hard and slides a few feet. “If you tell anyone, I will hunt you down and personally rip out your throat with my teeth. Get out.” Jackson stares down at the floor, trying to catch his breath. “I said, get out!” Derek roars, and Jackson is scrambling, shoes slipping on the concrete, and running for the stairs.
He doesn’t stop shaking until he’s pulling his car into the driveway of his house.
For the next two weeks, Jackson tries his best not to think about Derek, or about werewolves. He throws himself into lacrosse practice during the week, and spends the weekends trying to drown out the thoughts with alcohol and Lydia. It’s a Saturday afternoon when Lydia shows up at his house and insists he go with her to the mall.
“Shopping, Lydia? Seriously?” Jackson rolls his eyes. “Can’t you get Allison to go with you?”
“What, because drinking yourself into a stupor for the third weekend in a row is so much more interesting? Come on. You can buy me sexy lingerie.” He thinks about trying to argue, but he’s never really been good at refusing Lydia, not when there’s nobody around to see. “Besides,” she adds as he ties his shoes, “Allison is in heat this weekend. I think her dad is too; I overheard her saying something to Scott about her mom and grandpa having some kind of plans for while she and her dad are . . . indisposed. Don’t you think that’s kind of strange? I mean, I thought married couples usually stay together when the omega is in heat.”
Jackson climbs into his Porsche and Lydia slides in beside him, pulling a compact out of her bag and checking her makeup. “I wouldn’t know,” Jackson replies. “No omegas in my family.”
Lydia looks at him sideways, then makes a small amused noise and smiles. “I suppose not.”
Later, when he’s in Lydia’s bedroom with the smell of sex still in the air and her soft body curved around his, he thinks about how they’d gone to see the movie Lydia wanted to because she has a crush on the omega male star, and he thinks about how Lydia is the top student in their math class and can calculate her friends’ heat cycles in her head. He thinks about how Lydia is everything an alpha female should be and he’s grateful that if her mathematical mind has been tracking the dates of his family business trips, she’s never said anything about it. He wonders if Lydia will break up with him when he convinces Derek to bite him; then he thinks about Scott and Allison and decides it’s not worth worrying about.
Jackson is just getting into his car to drive home when he gets a call from Stiles, asking frantically where he is. “You need to get over here right now,” Stiles tells him over the crashing and gunshots in the background. “Scott and Erica are hurt and I’m getting them out, but I can’t fit everyone in my car.”
“Stiles, what the hell are you talking about?” Jackson asks, climbing into the driver’s seat and starting the ignition.
“The hunters, you idiot, what the fuck else would I be talking about? They’ve got the others cornered in the iron works and Derek can’t hold them off forever, so you need to get your ass down here and pick them up.” There’s cursing in the background and the squeal of tires, and all Jackson can think is that he wants no part of this.
“Why should I help you?” he asks. “Why are you even calling me?”
“There’s nobody else for me to call!” Stiles yells. “And your chances of winning the state lacrosse championship are pretty damn low if Isaac and Boyd get killed, so are you coming or what?”
Jackson clenches his fist around the steering wheel. “Fine,” he spits out finally. “Where do you want me to go?” Stiles gives him an address and Jackson pulls out of Lydia’s driveway and takes off. Saving his shot at the state championship is a good motivator, but it occurs to Jackson that helping Derek out might just give him the leverage he needs to get Derek to help him out.
Still, Jackson nearly turns around when he gets near the iron works and hears gunfire. He pulls up behind a warehouse, and Derek must have heard him coming because seconds later he’s crashing through a window holding Isaac in his arms, with Boyd climbing out after. Boyd and Derek are both shifted into their werewolf forms, and Jackson’s heart pounds in his chest at seeing them for the first time. Boyd yanks the door open and climbs into the back seat; Derek hands off Isaac to Boyd and climbs into the front, pulling the door shut and shouting at Jackson to drive. Jackson has taken his car out to abandoned parking lots and rental race tracks to drive fast, but he has never before driven so fast on city streets. He turns when Derek tells him to, tires squealing and slipping on the pavement, and time rushes together with the beating of his heart and the smell of Isaac’s blood dripping out onto his back seat. It’s absurd, but the only thing Jackson can think is that he’s glad the seats are leather so they’ll be easier to clean up.
Finally, Derek tells Jackson to stop the car, and he realizes they’re outside of the animal clinic that Scott works at. He can’t help blurting out, “You guys use a veterinarian instead of a doctor?” which earns him a dirty look. They pile out of the car and Jackson hesitantly follows them inside. He stands awkwardly in the lobby, not quite willing to follow the others back to the examination room, not quite sure if he should leave.
It’s about twenty minutes later when Stiles shuffles out of the back room. Stiles’s clothes are soaked in blood, and he looks both angry and sad; it’s a look Jackson has never seen on him before. He startles when he notices Jackson and his expression shifts into something more familiar. “Heeey, Jackson,” Stiles mumbles.
“Are they . . . ?”
“Fine,” Stiles cuts in. “They’ll be fine. Thanks for, uh.”
“Do you still need a chauffeur? Or can I go home and get some sleep?” Stiles makes a shooing motion with his hands and Jackson rolls his eyes and heads home.
He waits a week before going to find Derek again, long enough to weigh the benefits of no longer being an omega against the risks of being a werewolf, but not so long that Derek could possibly forget about Jackson’s help.
This time, the lights are on in the transit tunnel, and Derek is at the bottom of the steps when Jackson arrives. “Why do you keep coming back here?” Derek asks. He’s leaning against the wall, and his eyes roam over Jackson like he’s going to find the answer written on his body somewhere.
“You know what I want,” Jackson replies.
Derek shakes his head. “The answer is still no. I would think after seeing what the hunters do to us you’d lose interest.” He cocks his head as if he’s listening for something, then adds, “Your heart rate is elevated. You’re almost as scared now as you were then.”
The implication that he’s a coward, that he’s always scared, pushes Jackson’s buttons enough for him to stand a little taller and stare Derek down. “I helped you out last week. If it wasn’t for me, you could have been killed. Now that I’ve helped you, it’s time for you to help me.”
Derek snorts, a smirk twisting his lips. “I appreciate your attempt at manipulation. To be honest, you do have some qualities that might make you a good candidate.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“It’s not worth it.” Derek shrugs and pushes off from the wall, heading back into the train. “You’re an alpha. You’ve already got everything you need. If you become one of us, you won’t be the alpha of this pack. The best you could hope for is to be a beta. There’s a reason I only turn omegas.”
“What about Scott?” Jackson calls after him. Derek stops, but doesn’t turn around.
“I didn’t bite Scott. The alpha who did is dead.”
***
This is a story about Jackson Whittemore. It starts when he is eleven years old, and ends on a cold cement floor in the basement of a burned-out house.
Jackson is more confident than ever that he is going to convince Derek to bite him. So much so that when they’re sitting down to dinner, he tells his parents that he doesn’t want to go with them on their next business trip.
“There’s this drug trial some of the guys at school are in,” he explains. “I’m going to get in too. It’s been really effective, the others don’t even miss school for heat anymore.” Of course it’s not that easy to convince his parents, but Jackson assures them that if the drugs don’t kick in before his heat starts that he’ll lock himself in his room. After all, he’s done this every ten weeks for over a year now -- it’s become a habit. A habit he’d like to break. Jackson also insists that they keep up the pretense that he will be accompanying them, so that he won’t be expected in school.
He has two weeks left before his heat to figure out how to convince Derek. It’s so preoccupying that Danny and Lydia both start to complain about Jackson’s lack of attention. Danny catches Jackson after practice, when they’re the only two left in the locker room, and asks, “What’s going on with you? You’re acting really weird, are you okay?”
“I’m perfect,” Jackson replies, and Danny laughs.
“We all know that, but are you okay?” Danny bumps Jackson with his shoulder, trying to catch his eye. Jackson sighs and shuts his locker, zipping up his bag.
“You remember when I had you look for those files on the drug trial?”
“Yeah, and the company didn’t exist? Did you find out something?”
“More than something. Look, I can’t talk about it, but . . . This could be good.” Because it’s Danny, because Danny is the only one who knows everything there is to know about Jackson, Jackson lets his mask slip and lets Danny see the hope in his eyes.
Danny slings an arm over Jackson’s shoulders and squeezes. “Let me know what happens, okay?”
Danny backs off after that, but Jackson still has to deal with Lydia. He ends up watching “The Notebook” with her twice in one week to make up for ignoring her during lunch at school, and being her human clothing rack while she goes shopping on the weekend. In between, he takes some time to follow Derek and his pack, seeing which days they go to the transit tunnel and which days they go out to the nature preserve. One of the days that he knows the pack is at the transit tunnel, Jackson takes off into the nature preserve and finds his way to the burned-out shell of Derek’s family home. He doesn’t go in, just wanders around the outside, wondering what Derek does in there with no water or power.
Somehow, before he knows it, his parents are packing their bags and Jackson is promising to stay in his room. He hasn’t talked to Derek even though he knows Derek has been aware of Jackson’s presence. The idea of actually telling Derek the truth, saying those words -- it’s something Jackson just can’t deal with. He’s never said it out loud and he doesn’t think he can start now, but he’s not sure how else to convince Derek to give him the bite.
Jackson’s been hiding out at home for a full day since his parents left when the heat begins. The initial symptoms aren’t as long and drawn out now as they were his first time. There’s a much shorter gap between the first butterflies in his stomach and the crash of arousal that hits him like a big rig these days, only about an hour and a half. When he feels tickling in his belly and sweat beading on his forehead, Jackson realizes that he doesn’t have to tell Derek anything; he can show him.
He pops a couple pills to help him focus, takes a deep breath, and unlocks the door to his room. It’s a Wednesday, which means that Derek will be at the house, and for the first time in his life Jackson wishes he had a less flashy car so that he might have a chance of getting around town without anyone noticing. It’s the middle of the day, so everyone he knows should still be in school, but Jackson doesn’t know how long this will take or what sort of condition he’ll be in when he has to drive back home.
By the time he gets to Derek’s house, Jackson doesn’t have much time left. He doesn’t bother knocking, just walks right into the house, calling Derek’s name. There’s no answer, and Jackson’s stomach drops at the thought that he might be wrong and Derek might be at the transit tunnel, because there is no way he’s going to be able to drive back across town like this. Jackson searches the house, up the stairs, then down to the basement, and finds no sign that anyone is home. He leans back against the basement door, knocking his head on the wall to try to break through the fog enough to come up with a plan. There is no plan, though, and he finds himself sliding to the floor and cradling his head in his hands.
The sound of footsteps close by startle him back to reality a few minutes later, and Jackson looks up to find Derek looming over him. “We had this discussion already. Get out of here,” he snaps.
Jackson struggles to his feet, wiping sweat off his brow. “You said you wouldn’t bite an alpha,” he says.
“That’s right,” Derek replies slowly, taking in Jackson’s ragged appearance. His nostrils flare and Jackson wonders if Derek can smell the pheromones. “Jackson, are you--”
And there it is: the crash of the heat rushing through his body. The pills he took have worn off and the precious time of sanity is past, and Jackson finds himself for the first time in full-on heat with another person in the same room. He moves unconsciously, barely realizing that he’s clutching at Derek’s jacket, pressing his lips to Derek’s, shamelessly grinding their hips together.
The pain of Derek’s claws digging into his shoulders brings a small measure of awareness back to Jackson, and he realizes that Derek has pushed him away and is holding him at arm’s length and saying something to him. The heat is too much, though, and without any medication to calm his desire, Jackson won’t be able to think anything coherent until he’s had an orgasm. Derek is holding him far enough away that Jackson can’t reach for him, so instead he reaches a hand into his own jeans and takes hold of himself, vaguely aware that he’s making the most embarrassing noises but unable to stop. The first rush of heat is always the fastest, and it’s only a few short moments before Jackson is coming in his pants.
Reality seeps back in as Jackson catches his breath, and his cheeks flush with shame. Derek isn’t looking at him, but his posture is rigid and his arms are tense. The claws have retracted but Derek is still holding Jackson as far away as possible. “Sorry,” Jackson mumbles, “I’ve always been alone, when . . .”
Derek meets Jackson’s eyes then and lets go of his shoulders, taking a few steps back into the basement. “You’re an omega,” he says, letting the cold truth out into the open. Jackson looks away. “Now I know why you want the bite so badly. How did you even get here? You know how dangerous it is for an omega in heat to be out, not to mention it’s a miracle you didn’t crash your car.”
Jackson wants to answer, but the second wave of his heat is starting to pick up, and he finds himself lurching toward Derek, drawn to his body like a moth to a flame. The heat doesn’t care about male or female, alpha or omega -- it wants any warm body it can find, which is why omegas are always locked away to ride it out alone or with their spouse. There’s no such thing as consent for an omega in heat. “Derek, please,” Jackson finds himself saying, reaching out for him.
Derek laughs and lets Jackson come into his space, lets him touch his arm, his chest. “What is it you want, Jackson?” Derek breaths into his ear. “Do you want me to bite you? Or do you want me to fuck you?”
Jackson shivers and presses against Derek, burying his face in Derek’s shirt with a choked sob. “Please,” he says; there’s nothing else that he can say. “Please.” He feels the vibration of Derek’s chuckle before he hears it, and presses closer.
“You’re lucky I’m not human, so your pheromones don’t affect me.” Derek’s hand comes to rest on the back of Jackson’s head, tugging his hair until he looks up into Derek’s eyes. “I’ve never bitten someone during a heat before,” he says conversationally. “It might kill you instead of turning you, you know that, right?”
Jackson blinks, staring into Derek’s eyes as they change from pale green to glowing red. The bite might kill him, but Jackson can’t live like this anymore. “Please,” he says, one last time.
***
This is a story about Jackson Whittemore. It ends on a cold cement floor in the basement of a burned-out house.
When Jackson comes to, he can barely move. All he can feel is the wet warmth of blood spilling out and pooling on the floor next to him, his body gradually cooling as it drains away. There’s a lot of blood, more than he thought he had in his entire body, and the poison from Derek’s fangs stings its way through his veins. He thinks he hears the sound of Derek’s footsteps receding up the stairs as he passes out of consciousness again.
The bite might kill him, or it might turn him.
It’s a win-win situation for Jackson.
***
Massive thanks to vongchild for cheerleading and beta reading! Also thanks to quigonejinn for providing feedback and prosodi for brainstorming.