Work Text:
When Derek had shown up at Jackson’s loft door, looking broody and exhausted, Jackson had been tempted to slam the door in his face and get back to his essay on Welsh Mythology, but instead he steps back and to the side, wordlessly inviting Derek inside.
“Is someone about to try and kill me?” he asks, closing and locking the door. Derek shakes his head, hands jammed down low in the pockets of his leather jacket. “Is someone about to send me off on another killing spree without my knowledge?” he asks. Derek gives him a long silent look. “There aren’t any psycho hunters here to skin me alive and use me as an area rug are there?” he asks. This time Derek rolls his eyes and shakes his head. Jackson lets out a breath he didn’t even know he’s been holding and moves past Derek to sit spread out on the far end of his Italian leather couch. “So… Social visit then?” Derek smirks.
“Same old, Jackson. Can’t say I’m surprised,” Derek shakes his head. “I’m here on business.”
“Business?” Jackson smirks. “I know a thing or two about business.” He frowns, sprawling out on one end of his leather couch. “Unless you mean pack business. Because I told you, I’m not joining your pack,” he crosses his arms over his chest, looking away from Derek.
“Not pack business really, more like family business. And you couldn’t join my pack even if you wanted too, seeing as I haven’t got one any longer,” Derek explains. Jackson’s face goes pale.
“The pack? Beacon Hills? Lydia! Is Lydia ok? What’s going on?” he stands up out of his seat.
“Lydia’s fine. She’s a banshee, but she’s fine. Look, I’m just passing through, and thought I should drop by. Make sure you were doing ok.” Jackson sits down again slowly, looking shocked and irritated.
“A banshee!?” he asks, weariness and confusion spreading across his face.
“Yes, but it’s beside the point.”
“What the fuck, Hale? You can’t just show up here and rattle off something like that with no explanation! What the fuck is going on?” Jackson asks. Derek shucks off his jacket and sits on the other end of the couch. And then he starts to talk. Jackson listens numbly as Derek explains it all. The Darach, the alpha pack, and Lydia being a banshee (Jackson really can’t say he’s particularly surprised by that one). Derek’s voice gets slow, strained, when he starts talking about losing Erica and then Boyd and Jackson didn’t know them that well, but he can tell Derek felt their losses keenly. Then there’s talk of kitsune’s and nogitsune’s and Stilinski being fucking possessed. Jackson doesn’t like the little shit stain but still… he wouldn’t wish that on anyone, not when he’s pretty much lived it himself. When Derek gets to Allison’s death, Jackson has to stand up and physically move away. He stands at his window looking out over foggy London, and crosses his arms over his chest, face set in a scowl.
“I think you got out of Beacon Hills at just the right time. I wanted to keep you updated. Let you know what you’d be walking into if you ever decided to come back.” Jackson doesn’t answer right away. When he does speak his voice is almost accusing.
“Why do you stay?” he asks. Derek frowns even harder.
“Because if I didn’t it would just be a bunch of kids trying to deal with all this shit on their own. And Scott’s a good alpha, he’s a good leader, but they don’t know half of what’s out there. And they need as much help as they can get.” Derek stands up and stretches. “Look I just wanted to check on you while I was in town. Make sure you were doing ok.” Jackson nods, and doesn’t move to stop him as Derek pulls his jacket back on and heads for the door.
“But they’re doing ok?” Jackson asks, voice quiet and oddly concerned. Derek turns to look at him, finds Jackson’s eyes on him, his posture tense.
“They’re doing as well as they can be. The last years been a tough one. But they’re strong.” Jackson nods, and turns away without saying another word. Derek studies him for a moment before reaching for the door. “See you around,” Jackson doesn’t reply. Derek fights not to sigh as he opens the door and leaves.
Derek pauses at the end of the hallway to check his phone for messages, and hears the hard thump of a fist meeting plaster. He’s back up the hallway a few seconds later.
“Shit,” he hears Jackson curse, followed by quiet indistinct muttering. Derek rolls his eyes turning away to leave, and just hears the sound of dialing. Curious he stops and listens. “Hey, it’s Jackson. Yeah, I know I said I’d call more often. I’m calling now aren’t I?... I know. I miss you too. I… I want to come home. Do you think I can come home?... Yes, I’m sure… Ok. Thanks. I love you too.”
Derek grins, supremely satisfied, and makes his way on silent feet back down the hallway to the elevator. He knew a stop in London would be well worth the trip. Next up, Paris.