It’s tempting to cancel his weekly meet-up with Lydia, but Stiles likes having balls and would rather not have them cut off because he makes his redheaded goddess angry. While he doesn’t think she’d really castrate him if he skips a session, one can never be sure with Lydia Martin. He isn’t willing to take the chance, even if he isn’t feeling up to it today. When he arrives at Tranquility Salon and Spa, Lydia’s shiny red car is already in the parking lot. A quick glance at his phone shows that he’s five minutes early. He heads inside the salon and sees Lydia browsing the product shelf.

“I’m early,” he announces proudly, walking over to kiss her offered cheek. “And I showed up. That deserves a kiss, doesn’t it?”

“No, because I had to threaten you to ensure your presence,” Lydia says primly. “You had the audacity to suggest cancelling our workout day, Stiles. That deserves no kisses at all.”

“I’m not the best company right now, and you looked like you wanted to smother me with a pillow the entire time last week.” He tugs on the end of her hair. “I was trying to save you from myself.”

“I can save myself, thank you very much.” Lydia looks at him with a knowing glint in his eyes. “It’s been a month, Stiles. You need to move on.”

“Four weeks and three days.” He ducks his head when she purses her lips. “It’s easier said than done, Lyds. We were together for a while, you know? I love him. I mean, I, uh, loved him. Right.”

“I know that you were together for nearly three years. Of course you love him.” Lydia pets his head, her nails scratching his scalp in a soothing manner. “But he made his choice, Stiles, and you can’t just stop living because that choice wasn’t you.”

“Ouch.” Stiles rubs his hand over his heart and gives her a hurt look. “You don’t have to be so blunt, alright? I know that Jackson’s also your ex, so it’s weird, but it’s only been a few weeks, and I can’t just let go that easily. Maybe if I was the one who hadn’t been in love, it would be easier, but it’s not.”

“I’ve spent weeks supporting you and listening to you run yourself down and question what you did wrong.” Lydia turns to face him head on. “You did nothing wrong. Jackson is an ass who doesn’t realize how lucky he is, and he has this habit of running away when emotions get too strong. At least this time he didn’t go to London.”

“He went to London because he actually loved you. It wasn’t just a convenient sex thing that was never supposed to develop feelings.” He’s paraphrasing some of what Jackson said the night they broke up. “I was disposable because he could find anyone to satisfy his urges without having to deal with any love bullshit.”

Lydia sighs. “A casual sex thing doesn’t include dating constantly, trips to the vineyard, vacations to island paradises, and practically living together. I saw his face when you were together, Stiles. He might be lying to himself, but I know what I saw. He’s going to regret losing you.”

“No, he won’t.” Stiles shakes his head. “Anyway, can we please just not talk about this right now? I’m doing my best to not dwell on it, and I thought we were here to relax.”

“We are. I’ve purchased a full package for us, so I hope you don’t have plans for a few hours.” Lydia leans up and kisses his jaw. “There’s your kiss. Now quit sulking. You’ll give me wrinkles if you keep making me worry about you.”

“We wouldn’t want that, would we?” Stiles forces a smile. “Thanks for paying, Lyds. I can pay next week.”

Lydia snorts. “You’re a deputy. My husband is also a deputy with more seniority than you, so I know how much you make, and it isn’t enough for a full spa package a week, much less two. You can let me be your sugar mama occasionally.”

Stiles does grin at that, giving her a hug that results in picking her up and swinging her around until she’s laughing at him to grow up and stop. He releases her, following her as they’re led behind the curtain. They start off their workout with a pedicure and manicure. Stiles considers getting his nails painted for once, something bright and cheerful maybe, but he knows he’s likely to end up just chipping it up in no time, so he doesn’t bother. It’s a clear coat like usual, and he leans back in the chair to get comfortable as the ladies start working on both of them.

It doesn’t take long before Lydia interrupts the peaceful silence. “Do you remember when I chaired the department picnic last year because you were desperate and your dad was stressed?”

“Yeeeeah,” he drawls out the word as he rolls his head to look at her suspiciously. “Why?”

“I’m calling in one of the many favors you owe me.” She arches a brow as if daring him to just try getting out of it.

“Seriously? We’re actually keeping track of favors now?” He frowns because he isn’t entirely sure what sort of favor she might ask of him.

“56 that you owe me since junior year, and 22 that I owe you. When you subtract the numbers, weighing four of yours as double due to life saving favors being more important, you end up owing me 30. It’ll be 29 after this one.” She smirks at his gob smacked look. “Did you really think I’d ever tell someone I owe them without remembering the details? Please. You know how I feel being indebted to anyone.”

“What’s the penalty?” he asks, feeling some of the tension coming back into his shoulders. He’s glad there’s still a massage ahead of him. Lydia is the best friend for pampered hanging out ever, not that he’ll tell that to Scott for fear of hurting his feelings.

Lydia shrugs a dainty shoulder. “I’ve arranged a blind date for you this evening.”

“No.” Stiles shakes his head and gets scolded by Marie, who is working on his hands, which are slightly shaking at the thought of going on a date with anyone. It’s too soon after breaking up with Jackson, and he’s not ready yet.

“Yes.” Lydia’s tone is firm, but Stiles is willing to argue about this, whether he owes her or not. “You have to move forward, Stiles, and a date will help you do that. I’m certainly not saying you’ll be meeting the love of your life, but you never know. Maybe he will be? If not, maybe he can be good for rebound sex.”

“I don’t want to date anyone right now, Lydia. And I certainly am not interested in rebound sex,” he points out. “I’m still in love with Jackson.”

“I’ll wipe the slate clean. The date tonight will be equal to the 30 remaining favors.” Lydia gives him a look that tells him she’s serious. “Go on the date tonight, Stiles. It’s just dinner, and you might like him. Hell, you might even love him.”

Stiles looks down at Linda, who is giving him the pedicure. She gives him an encouraging smile and nods as if she agrees with Lydia. Marie shrugs when he looks at her. They’re his usual ladies, and they’ve been there through the whole initial courtship and relationship with Jackson to the subsequent break-up. “Who is this guy?” he asks Lydia, not admitting defeat yet but, well, it’s just dinner, and maybe Lydia is right. Maybe he needs to try to move on, even if it’s a blind date.

“He’s handsome and financially stable,” Lydia replies. “I’ve known him for years, and he’s also had a break-up in the last few months, so you two can bond over that. He’s got that assholish quality that you seem to find attractive, too, which is why I thought of you as a suitable blind date for him. I think you’d be good together.”

“You seem to attract those of us with that assholish thing, don’t you?” Stiles looks at the ceiling, still not convinced that he wants to do this even to clean his slate with Lydia. “What’s his name?”

Lydia just snorts. “Right. Like I’m going to tell you that so you can sneak onto Google and try stalking him as soon as you get the chance.” Her smile gentles as she looks at him. “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, Stiles. You know that, don’t you?”

“Of course.” Stiles doesn’t point out that this isn’t about trusting her. It’s more about where he is emotionally right now. If he goes on a date tonight, even if it’s just for dinner and to possibly make a new friend with no thought of romance at all, it’s still making a choice to let Jackson go. Stiles has spent weeks clinging to the possible hope that Jackson might get his head out of his ass and realize he loves Stiles or at least misses him enough to make an effort towards a future together.

The really pathetic thing is that Stiles is the one who ended it, who hadn’t been able to stand Jackson’s reaction when he stupidly suggested they move in together and said the disastrous L word verbally instead of just thinking it in his head the way he always has. He’s the one who packed up everything of his that he could find at Jackson’s and just walked away. Foolishly hoping that such a grand gesture would make Jackson realize he felt the same and, yeah, maybe Stiles has seen too many romance movies because he’s got to admit that he’s disappointed that the guy doesn’t chase after you and proclaim his love accompanied by an instrumental soundtrack in real life. No, in real life, you end up in your Jeep driving away with tears silently falling down your cheeks despite your best efforts not to cry, and you end up checking your messages obsessively and waiting for a text or phone call that never happens.

You end up lying in bed until your well-meaning best friend forces you to get up by bribing you with curly fries then spends the whole time cheering you up with his sunshine smile and bad impersonations of the ex-boyfriend circa grade school and middle school. You end up sleeping alone, arms seeking out warmth that is no longer there, and eating alone, cooking too much for one person and not using certain spices that the ex-boyfriend hates. You end up crying at dog food commercials because they remind you of teasing the ex-boyfriend about being a puppy instead of a wolf then becoming aroused because you remember what always happened after that teasing when the ex-boyfriend proved just how much of a wolf he could be.

The feel of a hand on his shoulder pulls him from his thoughts. He looks up to see Lydia standing there, Marie and Linda already gone. “Uh, sorry,” he apologizes, realizing he’s been zoning out thinking about stuff he needs to try forgetting. Yeah, Lydia is probably right. She usually is, after all. He looks at her and nods. “Alright. I’ll go out with your friend tonight, but make sure he knows I’m not at my best.”

“You’re always at your best,” she says softly, giving him a quick kiss against his mouth before tugging him out of the chair. “Let’s go get our facials, and we can make fun of whatever soap opera is playing on the television.”

***********************

It’s been four hours since Stiles left Tranquility, and he’s now standing in front of his closet having second (more like fiftieth) thoughts about going on this date tonight. His phone is on the dresser beside him, Lydia’s contact information already pulled up, and he’s had his thumb pressed against the call button several times already. He hasn’t given in to the doubts yet, which makes him feel pretty proud considering he’s only got about thirty minutes until he’s supposed at the restaurant. Just enough time to get dressed and drive over. His hair is still damp, water dripping down his neck and following the curve of his back

The thing is, half of his closet is filled with stuff that Jackson had bought him during the years they were dating. It’s all stuff Stiles likes, well most of it, and he hasn’t thrown it out because it makes up a substantial part of his wardrobe. Sure, he has his deputy uniforms for work, but the stuff Jackson bought that would just suddenly show up in Stiles’ closet randomly is like grown up clothes. Not jeans and t-shirts with different fandom affiliations, but real clothes like sweaters and button up shirts and trousers that fit his ass like they were made for him.

It feels weird to even consider wearing clothes that Jackson bought him on a date with another man. That’s why he’s still standing there with his towel wrapped around his waist staring into his closet. The thing is, it’s a date, so wearing jeans and a t-shirt with Captain America on it is really pretty rude, even if he doesn’t expect anything to come from it except for possibly a new friendship. When he realizes he’s been debating this for too long, Stiles shakes his head and grabs a pair of underwear from his dresser. He pulls them on, knocking his towel on the floor and leaving it because Jackson isn’t around to bitch about wet floors not belonging on the floor. Jackson isn’t around anymore. That’s the whole point, and he needs to stop wasting time thinking about fucking clothes when he’s on his own now and Jackson made it clear that he doesn’t care about Stiles at all.

He gets a pair of black pants out, knowing they’re the best pair because they were actually altered to fit him perfectly, and he chooses a shirt that he knows looks good because even Scott’s told him he looks hot wearing it. He buttons it up before tucking it into his pants then seeking out a belt. He leaves the top three buttons unfastened because it’s a first date not a business luncheon, but he does grab the suit jacket that matches the pants because he doesn’t think his sheriff’s department coat or one of his hoodies would go with the well-dressed look he’s aiming for tonight. He wants to look so good that Jackson would regret giving him up if their paths crossed.

For the first time in weeks, he actually takes the time to style his hair. It’s getting a little long, he realizes, brushing against the nape of his neck, but he’s still able to drag his product covered fingers through it to make it look reasonably good. He makes face at himself in the mirror, crossing his eyes and puckering his lips because it keeps his mind off the fact that the last time he prepared for a first date was a little over three years ago. He and Jackson had dated a few times and had sex a lot (actually, the sex came first after an argument about two months following Jackson’s return to Beacon Hills from London) before they actually progressed to a monogamous type relationship. Not that Stiles had been with anyone else during those first few months, but it hadn’t been official until then.

When his gaze lingers on the moles dotting his face, he deliberately forces himself to look away from the mirror. There’s no way he’s letting memories of lazy mornings in bed with Jackson connecting the dots, as he always called it, with his tongue and fingers while Stiles tries not to laugh at him flood his mind. Fuck. Too late. He enters the bathroom and washes the product off his hands before he gets his wallet and keys. Almost forgetting the suit coat, he grabs it as he’s leaving the bedroom. If he hurries, he won’t be late, and it’s tempting to take his patrol car and use the light but, well, someone would probably see and tell his dad. Better not to risk it.

As it is, he arrives nearly ten minutes early. Sure, he had to speed a little to get there, but whatever. He didn’t get caught. Stiles enters the restaurant and looks around for someone who looks like a handsome asshole that Lydia might know, but he actually doesn’t see anyone who appears to be alone. When the hostess greets him, he gives her a charming smile. “I’m meeting someone, but I’m afraid I don’t even have their name. My friend wouldn’t tell me,” he admits. Lydia’s smart since she knew he’d have done a search, but she’s such an amateur thinking he’d use Google when he has all the police resources at his fingertips. He’d have had a full background check on his date by now without a doubt.

“Mr. Stilinski?” The hostess beams at him, and he takes a look behind his shoulder to make sure Scott hasn’t wandered in flashing his sunshine smile. Stiles isn’t used to receiving that kind of smile from strangers. “Please, come with me. Everything’s all arranged for your evening.”

“Arranged?” He arches a brow but doesn’t question her because Lydia’s either done something extravagant to ensure he enjoys his date or the dude he’s meeting has set something up. Either way, the hostess isn’t likely to tell him if she’s been paid off. He follows her through the restaurant, the good smells making his stomach growl. At least Lydia chose somewhere with good food, even if expensive Italian is a bit out of bounds for a blind first date. First blind date? He chews on the inside of his cheek as he wonders which way sounds best.

“Here we are,” the hostess says, opening the door to the private dining area in the back of the restaurant. It seats at least forty people and is usually closed unless it’s been rented out. He looks at her then looks at the various vacant tables then back. Seeming to sense his confusion, she smiles. “Your party is here this evening, sir. Please, after you.”

Stiles shrugs and walks inside. He immediately tenses and turns to leave only to find the door firmly shut behind him. When he tries to turn the handle, it’s locked. “Is this some kind of sick and twisted joke? This breaks so many fire codes, you don’t even know. I’ll have the sheriff out here closing you down if you don’t open this damn door right now.”

“Stiles, calm down or you’ll give yourself a panic attack.”

“No! You do not get to tell me to calm down, Jackson.” Stiles turns to glare at his ex-boyfriend. “You gave up that right a month ago, remember? Anyway, I’m not going to have a panic attack. I might kill you and disgrace my father by getting imprisoned for murder, but I think any jury in the state would acquit me based on justifiable homicide.”

Jackson rolls his eyes. “You’re not going to kill me. You’re not even going to maim me. Why do you think I made sure the silverware is behind me? And you wouldn’t wear your gun on a date, especially not to this place.”

Stiles narrows his eyes and quickly goes to his boot, pulling out a small handgun he’s been wearing strapped to his ankle since Cavanaugh got ambushed a couple of weeks ago. Until the perps are behind bars, it makes him feel better to be armed. “You were saying?”

“A bullet wouldn’t kill me and you know it, so put the gun away.” Jackson is frowning now. “Why are you armed? What happened? Did someone threaten you?”

“Again, you gave up the right to care a month ago.” He considers aiming the gun but, well, Jackson’s right. It’s not going to kill him, and he doesn’t have any wolfsbane bullets on him right now. When he sees Jackson’s eyes flash blue, he relents. “Cavanaugh got attacked a couple of weeks ago, and the rest of us are being cautious until we catch the guys.”

“Is he okay?” Jackson takes a step towards him before hesitating. “I remember hearing something about it, but I didn’t pay much attention because it didn’t involve you.”

“He’s still in the hospital, but he’s going to make it. Might not come back to the force, depends on his vision and how his leg heals, but he’s alive.” Stiles puts the gun back into the ankle holster before looking at Jackson. Damn, he looks good. It’s been too long since Stiles has seen him, so he moves his gaze over him like he’s a starving man. There are circles underneath Jackson’s eyes, and it looks like he might have lost a little weight, but he still looks so good that it makes Stiles’ heart hurt. “What are you doing here? Did you find out that Lydia set me up with someone and decide to sabotage it?”

“I’m your date,” Jackson admits. “Lydia agreed to help me after a ridiculous amount of begging and enduring her lecturing me about being a coward and running away from my emotions and needing to believe that I deserve to be happy regardless of what’s happened in the past. I had to promise her about fifty favors because she kept adding more to the list whenever I did something stupid.”

“Probably thirty,” Stiles says softly, not moving from where he’s standing because he still isn’t sure how to handle this situation. “That’s how many she lost from me by getting me to come tonight.”

Jackson looks up at him, almost hopeful. “You didn’t want to come?”

“Why would I want to go on a blind date with some guy so soon after having my heart broken?” Stiles shakes his head. “Emotions don’t work that way, Jackson. So, what is this then? Why the whole elaborate stunt instead of just stopping by my place to talk?”

“I didn’t think you’d want to see me.” Jackson shrugs. “I was a jerk that night, Stiles. I said a bunch of shit I don’t mean, but I know it still had to have hurt you, and I figured you must hate me. I was freaking out, when you told me you loved me, and you mentioned moving in together? I started feeling like I was suffocating, and I went on the defensive. I’m not proud of it, but saying sorry isn’t really going to make up for it, is it? I thought maybe showing you I was serious would help.”

“No, it’s not.” Stiles slides his suit coat off, tossing it over the back of the nearest chair. “For weeks, I waited for you to do something, to come by or call me or, hell, even text, but there was nothing. It was like I just stopped existing in your world.”

“I should have done something,” Jackson agrees, running his fingers through his hair and tugging. “But I didn’t know what to do. It hurt when I left Lydia, but I got over it. I thought this would be the same, that it would hurt for a while then be fine. You deserve better than me, and I tried to keep that in mind like the other time, but it was never fine. I kept running at night, going to your house and sitting outside like that loser McCall did when he was a teenager. I’m not a teenager with no self-control, Stiles, but you make me feel like I am. So what am I supposed to say? I fucked up.”

Stiles unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt and rolls the sleeves up, too stressed to worry about anything but comfort right now. “Yes, you did fuck up. Majorly.” He leans against the edge of one of the tables. “No one deserves one thing more than another, Jackson. I’ve got blood on my hands, too, remember? I’m just as much of an asshole as you, only I’m probably even better at it because I own it. We’re both insecure clingy bastards more often than not, so again I’m not seeing where the problem is. Anyway, you’re Jackson Whittemore, so don’t give me that bullshit about anyone deserving better because there isn’t anyone better. So tell what your other arguments are?”

“I…you…I’m supposed to be the one convincing you to give me another chance, you know? You’re really messing with my flow,” he mutters. “I expected you to either punch me for hurting you or to start arguing with me because you’re angry, but I didn’t think you’d try debating me regarding the whole deserving thing.”

“What can I say? I’m unexpected.” Stiles wishes he could be angry, but he can’t because he knows what Jackson even being here means. It doesn’t make the last month all better or fix all their problems, but it’s a huge effort from an emotionally aloof asshole, so, yeah, it means a lot. “Anyway, I still love you, dumbass. And if you can’t handle hearing that word, you’d better leave now because I’m not going through this again.”

“I can handle it,” Jackson says, staring at Stiles now like he’s not sure he can believe he’s real. “I love you, Stiles. It isn’t the word that made me freak, you know? It was the fact that I wanted nothing more at that moment than to lock you away and keep you all for myself and never let you go. It scared me, having these urges that would have gotten me shot with wolfsbane bullets if I even tried. So I lashed out because it was your fault, in a way, for making me fall in love with you.”

“I didn’t make you do anything.” Stiles rubs the back of his neck and then fusses with the sleeves of his shirt. He notices Jackson’s gaze following the movement of his fingers and smiles slightly. “I’m just awesome and irresistible, obviously.”

“Why are you even wearing that?” Jackson gestures at his clothes. “Were you trying to dress up for some strange man? They still smell like me, you know? So do you. I can still smell me on your skin, but it’s faint. Like I’m fading away, and it’s driving me crazy, Stiles.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want a crazy Jackson, would we?” Stiles licks his lips and hopes he’s making the right choice by following his heart, not that his head is disputing the choice, either. He motions to Jackson. “Come scent me then feed me. I’m starving because I haven’t been eating well lately, which is all your fault, and I expect gelato after dinner.

Jackson crosses the room in a few quick steps, then his arms are around Stiles, pulling him close as he rubs his face against Stiles’ neck. “You shouldn’t forgive me so easily,” he murmurs before he licks his neck. “I’m an asshole, and I said some horrible things.”

“Yeah, well, so did I,” Stiles reminds him, having to take some responsibility for the fight they’d had even if it hadn’t been his fault. “And I might be giving you a second chance, Jackson, but you’re going to have to show me that you’re sincere. You also know that I’m totally going to hold this over you anytime you get stroppy with me in the future.”

“Of course you will.” Jackson’s hand moves down his back, lightly caressing the curve of his ass. Stiles reaches behind him and pushes Jackson’s hand up to his back. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. No nakedness until we see how dinner goes, and we make sure I don’t end up shooting you before dessert.” Stiles is going to be firm about this, especially considering they’re in the party room of a restaurant that they both enjoy.

“You already smell better,” Jackson says as he steps away. “And we’ll see if you make it dessert. It’s been four weeks and three days, and I’m too hot to resist for long. I’ll have you naked and willing before the last course.”

The fact that Jackson casually mentions the exact time they’ve been apart does weird things to Stiles’ heart. He can’t help smiling as he sits at the table all set up for them and watches Jackson smirk as he catches Stiles staring at him. Some of his cocky arrogance is back, and Stiles is glad because, well, this particular vessel of assholish handsome is totally his type. Stiles knows that his heart is starting to feel a lot less broken, and Jackson is getting back to normal, even if there’s a cautiousness about him that isn’t necessarily a bad thing, all things considered.

Sure, there are likely to be more problems in their future considering how ridiculous they both can be, but the fact that Jackson wants him enough to stop running and to make an effort is all Stiles really wanted. Lydia wouldn’t have helped Jackson if she didn’t believe he really meant it anyway. Thinking back to their conversation earlier, he can’t believe how she managed to play him without ever lying. In fact, she’d totally been telling the truth when she said that his date might very well be the love of his life.