Petting a Lizard

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“We need to figure out a way to break this bond. Like yesterday.”

“I’m working on a solution to the current dilemma, Stiles.” Deaton is all smugly stoic in that increasingly annoying way of his.

“Current dilemma,” Stiles repeats, huffing and glaring at the supernatural creature currently kneeling by his feet. “This isn’t a dilemma. This is a huge freaking problem!”

“Actually, it could be a lot worse,” Scott speaks up, only cringing a little bit when Stiles glares at him. “I mean, you get pissed but you don’t hold grudges. Think how horrible it would have been if someone else had become his master?”

“Don’t you watch horror movies, Scott? Never say it could be worse because then it usually does get worse,” Stiles points out. “Our lives are a horror movie now, complete with werewolves and giant revenge seeking lizards.”

The Kanima, whatever the hell that is, looks at him and tilts its head. His head. It’s definitely a dude, after all. He just stares at Stiles intently, and it’s weird. Very creepy, especially with the bond thing Deaton’s talked about. How does that even work? Does the Kanima read his mind? His feelings? He gets the revenge thing, in theory, but what about other stuff? Too many questions and not enough answers, damn it.

“Should I pet him? Do lizards like petting?” Stiles looks at Scott and grimaces. “Why can’t he just be Jackson again? Then I’d know if he’s staring because he wants me to pet him. Seriously, I can’t believe I’d rather have Jackson fucking Whittemore kneeling at my feet, but that’s my life now. Does he understand English? Can he hear me talking about him?”

“Stiles, calm down.” Scott gives him a look. “I remember seventh grade, alright? TMI to a point where I was rethinking our friendship if you didn’t learn that private thoughts meant not sharing with me. You didn’t have any trouble thinking about him kneeling then, though, so can we please not go there? I’d rather not have bad flashbacks.”

“Scott!” Stiles gapes at his former best friend. “That’s a total violation of the bro code. He can hear you!”

“You don’t know if he can understand anything,” Scott points out. “Just stop whining, alright? I know this is rough, and it’s weird having a stalker pet thing, but he’s not killing anyone because you aren’t wrathful like that. He could have blood on his hands, you know? It’s not going to last forever, and you don’t actually hate Jackson even if you’d rather suffer torture before admitting it.”

Stiles looks at the Kanima and frowns. “I might not like Jackson much—shut up, Scott, physical attraction has nothing to do with liking someone—but I wouldn’t want him controlled and turned into a weapon of revenge, either.”

The Kanima is still staring at him. He wonders if his annoyance at Scott might have transmitted through the weird bond he shares with this thing. He can’t think of it as Jackson because it isn’t, even if it is, in a way. He pulls his phone out and opens Google. After typing in his question, he skims it. Looking back at the Kanima, he tentatively holds his hand out.

“Dude, are you trying to pet the murderous creature?” Scott asks, his tone almost a hiss.

“What? Google says some lizards like to be petted. Maybe that’s why he keeps staring at me?” Stiles shrugs and keeps reaching for the Kanima. It snaps at his hand, and he pulls his arm back fast. “Or maybe not.”

“Everything I find seems to indicate that the Kanima has a need to resolve that in its past which manifests it,” Deaton interrupts them to say. What the hell does that even mean? Stiles doesn’t know, and he doesn’t think Deaton knows, either.

“We knew that as soon as we looked it up in the bestiary,” Stiles points out, glaring at the Kanima for almost biting his fingers off. “Who knows what Jackson has in his past that needs to be resolved? Can you even resolve assholeishness?”

“I’m afraid that it is going to take me longer to find a resolution than an evening,” Deaton tells them, face totally impassive and blank. He probably knows how to fix this, but he doesn’t like Stiles, so he’s making him wait for an answer on purpose.

The Kanima makes a noise and snaps its teeth in Deaton’s direction. Uh oh. Stiles forces himself to think happy thoughts about the expressionless asshole who thinks it’s better to give a little information instead of everything he knows.

“Right. It’s going to take longer. Of course it is. Because it could be worse, huh, Scotty?” Stiles rolls his eyes. “Kanima, keep your claws to yourself. I don’t even want to catch a glimpse of claw or I’ll be mad. You don’t want to see me mad, got it? I might seem weak and helpless, but I’m not.”

“We’re going to get this fixed, Stiles. Just hang in there and, uh, don’t wish sudden retribution against anyone?” Scott comes over and hugs him, moving back suddenly when the Kanima shoves him away from Stiles.

“I think that means it’s time for you two to leave,” Stiles says, arching a brow as he steps around the Kanima. “If you could even find out a way to make him Jackson again whenever I want, that’d be awesome.”

“I will be in touch,” Deaton says, looking from the Kanima back to Stiles. “Scott is right when he says it is fortunate that you are the Kanima’s master. It will prevent many unnecessary deaths and allow your classmate the opportunity to transition into his wolfhood without blood on his hands.”

“Right.” Stiles gets it, okay? He’s an angry asshole sometimes, but he’s not into the whole vengeance and retribution thing, so the Kanima isn’t going to get used to kill people. If he can just keep it from slicing someone with the poisonous claws, they’ll be golden. Well, as golden as they can be when Jackson has major baggage that’s preventing him from becoming a beta, and he seems to have decided Stiles is his master.

“I’ll call you,” Scott says, giving the Kanima some space as he walks around them and leaves.

“Can’t you just do your mojo and become Jackson again?” Stiles asks, staring at the Kanima. He’s so glad his dad is working tonight because, otherwise, this could get really weird. “You know, I’m not allowed to have pets. I’m not responsible enough to take care of them because my attention span is all over the place. At least, that’s why my parents used to say. Now, I’m too busy with supernatural shenanigans to even think about having one.”

The Kanima tilts its head, still staring and still being intensely strange. Stiles huffs and rolls his eyes. Trust it to be just as annoying as Jackson. He heads upstairs to his bedroom, not even caring if the thing follows him or not. After a stop in the bathroom, he enters his room and finds the Kanima perched on his bed right by his pillows.

“Get your lizard ass off my pillow, asshole,” he mutters, shrugging his shirt off and sniffing it before hanging it up. It smells fine, so he can get another wear out of it easily. He gets his shoes off then glances at the bed. The Kanima is still staring. “Pervy bastard.” He hmphs before pulling his shirt off and grabbing an older t-shirt he sleeps in out of the drawer. The shirt is soft and worn, not as long as it used to be due to too many washes, but it’s comfy for sleeping.

When he unfastens his jeans and shoves them down, he hears a noise from his bed. Looking up, he blinks when he sees a very naked Jackson Whittemore perched there blinking at him. Jackson stares for a moment before looking away, using one of Stiles’ pillows to cover his junk as he runs his fingers through his hair. “I hate you,” he mutters.

“I’m not that fond of you, either,” Stiles points out, kicking his jeans off before pulling on a pair of sweatpants. He grabs a pair of basketball shorts out of his dresser and tosses them at Jackson. “Cover your dick. You owe me a new pillow, by the way.”

“From what I heard, you should be grateful my dick touched your pillow,” Jackson says, smirking as he pulls the shorts on and doesn’t even complain about the fact they’re from a discount store instead of some fancy place. He must be distressed. “Kneeling at your feet? Really?”

“So that answers the whole question of whether you can understand us or not, I suppose. Scott was totally lying, of course. Don’t believe any of that,” Stiles says, grabbing his laptop and sitting on the bed. “And, if he wasn’t lying, just blame teenage hormones. It’s nothing personal. You’re pretty, and I’m horny all the time.”

“Just because you’re my master or whatever, it doesn’t mean I have to do what you tell me,” Jackson tells him, jaw tight and chin tilted up stubbornly. “So keep your filthy fantasies to yourself.”

“What?” Stiles looks up from the laptop and blinks at him. “Dude, I’d never force you to do anything like that. I’m anti-rape and pro-consent. God.” Stiles grimaces. “I know my whole Lydia thing might seem obsessive, but I’m not that disturbed.”

Jackson frowns and sits on the bed. “Huh. Well, just don’t forget,” he mutters. He stares at Stiles, eerily like the Kanima for a moment. “I don’t like this, Stilinski.”

“Neither do I,” he says simply. “Don’t worry about it because they’ll figure out how to fix it. Or I will. One of us will. You probably heard that your issues are the reason this happened, though, so maybe you should start working on those when you’re you you and not lizardy you.”

“Isn’t that victim blaming?” Jackson asks, lying down on Stiles’ bed and stretching like a lazy cat. Considering he’s a lizard and a wolf, it’s a bit much. “Making it my problem to fix? Whatever. I just want to stop turning into that thing. The wolf was going to be cool, powerful and strong, but a vengeance seeking lizard isn’t fun.”

“You’re not the only one who wants it resolved before anything bad can happen,” Stiles reminds him. He turns his laptop on, looking down at Jackson and studying his profile as the computer loads. Jackson seems to be moving closer to Stiles, his head down touching his thigh. Stiles arches a brow, watching for a moment before he hesitantly reaches down to touch Jackson’s hair.

Jackson tenses for a moment before he rubs his face against Stiles’ thigh. “If you say a word to anyone about this, I’ll claw your ass,” he mutters, butting his head against Stiles’ hand. “You and your freakish damn fingers, Stilinski. I mean it. Not even McCall finds out.”

“My lips are sealed,” Stiles promises, grinning as he pets Jackson and opens his internet browser. He’s pretty sure he won’t find anything about Kanimas that Deaton hasn’t already found, but maybe he’ll get lucky. The sooner Jackson is back to normal, the better. He glances down at Jackson and revises that thought. The sooner Jackson is hopefully better than normal, the better.