“Pretending I’m not here isn’t going to actually make me disappear, you know?”

“If this were Sunnydale instead of Beacon Hills, it might,” Stiles mutters. “I obviously need to relocate. I bet Buffy would love my killer research skills. I could bond with Willow. I could find out if Spike and Angel really were fucking.”

“Everyone knows Spike and Angel were boning. It was so obvious. Anyway, you can’t move to Sunnydale because of the whole fictional town thing and, besides that, the whole Hellmouth destroying the town in the finale would mean you’d have to camp out amongst the ruins, and you hate creepy crawling insects.”

“How do you even know that?” Stiles raises his glare from his lunch to the pretty boy sitting opposite him, who is smiling smugly either because he managed to get Stiles to actually look at him or because he totally guessed that Stiles does, in fact, dislike camping. “I might love camping.”

“No, you don’t,” Jackson says matter-of-factly. “In sixth grade, I had to hear you bitch to McCall about getting bitten by flying bugs and ants crawling on your toes when they got into your sleeping bag when you and your dad went to Yellowstone that summer. Many, many times. Enough times that I still remember your utter dislike of camping.”

“Yeah, well, whatever.” Stiles hates when Jackson is unpredictable. It’s like his equilibrium is thrown off, and the world stops spinning properly. Jackson isn’t supposed to remember random shit Stiles told Scott five years ago, especially when Jackson hated him back then. Hell, Jackson doesn’t even like him very much now, regardless of the change their relationship has taken since eleventh grade started.

“Whatever?” Jackson repeats slowly, lips curling into a disapproving scowl. “That’s a second grade level Stiles comeback. What’s wrong with you today? You’re normally much more scathing and insulting.”

“Nothing’s wrong except that you’re still here when I’m trying to ignore you,” Stiles tells him, getting a good glare in before turning his head to look out the window. “You can go away now, Jackson. I’m going to go back to pretending you don’t exist.”

“You can’t forget I exist, Stiles, so I don’t know why you bother trying. I mean, some people might find it cute that you think it’s even possible to ignore me, but I generally find it annoying.” Jackson huffs. “Now are you going to me why you’re pissy or not?”

“Not.” Stiles kicks Jackson’s leg under the table even as he focuses on staring out the window, but he can’t help turning to glare at Jackson. “Pissy? Really?”

“Well, what would you call it?” Jackson arches a brow. It’s infuriating that he looks so damn beautiful when he’s being an obnoxious ass. Stiles feels that twist of conflicting emotions that he always seems to feel around Jackson these days. Wanting to punch him and kiss him both at the same time. Jackson smiles smugly. “See something you like, Stiles?”

“No,” Stiles says curtly, kicking at Jackson’s leg again. Jackson moves his legs, capturing Stiles’ foot between them. Stiles tries pulling his foot free, but Jackson just shifts to make it impossible for him to get loose then has the audacity to smirk at him. “Jackson, let me go.”

“I don’t have any intentions of letting you go,” Jackson tells him, his tone serious as he stares into Stiles’ eyes. “Not when I’ve finally managed to catch you.”
“You have no claim over me,” he hisses, keeping his voice low to avoid anyone overhearing. “What we do together? That’s just sex, as you made so painfully clear last night, and it doesn’t give you any right to keep me, fuck face.”

Jackson loosens his grip on Stiles’ foot, letting him pull it away. His nostrils flare, his lips pursing, and a nerve in his jaw starts to twitch. “You stormed out of my bedroom before I could even think about your question, much less give you any kind of thoughtful answer. When this,” he motions between them, “started you made it obvious that you just wanted sex, and nothing else. Now you’re getting upset because I just told you what you said to me months ago?”

“We shouldn’t even be talking about this here,” Stiles points out, looking around the crowded cafeteria and wondering where the hell the pack is because he’d even be happy to see Isaac show up if it meant he could ignore Jackson. “Just forget about it, Jax. It’s over and done.”

“You can’t just decide it’s over and done because you started developing feelings,” Jackson tells him. He opens his bag and puts a box on the table between them. “I’m not running, and neither are you. Now answer the fucking question.”

“What?” Stiles frowns as he opens the box, blinking when he sees the chocolate cake inside. The words ‘Dinner tomorrow’ are written in red frosting. “That’s not a question. It’s a demand.”

“Whatever,” Jackson says, his tone slightly mocking as he deliberately repeats Stiles’ earlier retort. Jackson slides a fork over to him before picking one up for himself. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

So Jackson’s asking him out, the day after Stiles had hesitantly mentioned maybe going out on a date before the sex for once. Stiles looks at him and doesn’t say anything as he studies his face, seeing the smug smile but also noticing the vulnerable look that Jackson hides so well unless you know him well enough to see through the obnoxious façade he uses to protect himself. The fact that Jackson’s nervous tells Stiles everything he needs to know without them having to talk about it at all. Finally, he digs his fork into the cake and takes a bite. It’s delicious, which isn’t unexpected since Jackson isn’t the type to buy anything but the best.

Jackson’s shoulders relax minutely, just enough for Stiles to notice and realize he really was anxious about this conversation. Jackson takes a bite of the cake, licking chocolate off his lips before cutting another piece with his fork. He holds his fork across the table, giving Stiles a challenging smile because it’s going to be obvious to anyone who notices them that maybe there’s something going on between them if Jackson is feeding him cake. The rumor mill is going to be running itself ragged today, without a doubt.

Stiles smiles as he leans forward and closes his mouth around the fork, pulling back and taking the cake with him. He chews and swallows before cutting off a bite for Jackson. Jackson leans forward, taking the cake and licking the fork clean. They start talking quietly about homework and pack gossip as they share the dessert, and Stiles feels like this is one of those moments that he’s going to remember and think about in the future as being significant in some way or another.