Chapter Text
There was a sense of foreboding following him all day that he could not, for the life of him, shake. It was not the something is going to go horribly wrong feeling that hung over his head when he was in Beacon Hills or Charming. It was more of a something is going to ruin my already bad day, kind of thing. Wendy waiting for him on the porch when he pulled into the driveway only exemplified that feeling.
“Fuck.” He took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly, trying to prepare for whatever she was planning to tell him.
He really didn’t want to hear whatever it was. He was tired. It had been a long day and a longer week. He had classes Monday thru Friday. He worked at the coffee shop, yeah, a college student cliché, Monday thru Thursday and Sundays. It was Friday now, he was supposed to be able to get a paper or two started and then chill out with the kids and Juice.
He climbed out of the jeep knowing that any idea of relaxation just went up in flames. He dragged his bag out with him, mindful of his laptop, and slammed the door a little harder than necessary.
“What’s going on?” He questioned as he stepped onto the porch.
“You need to get Juice out of the house.” She folded her arms over her chest defensively.
“Excuse me?” She couldn’t possibly be saying with he thought she was saying.
“He needs to get a job or a hobby. All he does while you are gone is clean, watch weird animal documentaries, or cook disgusting health food.” She shuddered, whether it be because of the food or cleaning he didn’t know. “He is driving me crazy.”
“You know he can hear you.” He probably had an ear tuned on the door the moment Stiles parked the jeep in the driveway. “If he wants to stay home and do what he does, then that is his decision. If he wants to go get a job or a hobby, that is his decision. You and I won’t make it for him.”
“Five people cannot live on a part-time baristas salary.” Yeah, he did not need a reminder of that now. “Clay and Juice’s life insurance payouts will not last forever. We both know you are going to put more money into TM then you will get out of it and whatever you’re getting from Red Woody is going straight to the garage.”
“If you are so worried about it then get a fucking job, Wendy.” She and Juice were both fully capable of taking care of the kids. She could just as easily go out and find them another source of income. That burden did not automatically fall to Juice. “Do not bring this up to me again.”
“Okay, Jax.” She leveled him with a glare. “I’m going to a meeting.”
“You do that.” He studiously ignored her attempt at insulting him by calling him his brother’s name.
He left her on the porch without another word. Stomping into the house, the only thing keeping him from slamming the front door was the fact that there was a child present. Abel was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the television watching a cartoon and biting into an apple.
“Hey, buddy.” He greeted the boy, who flashed him a toothy grin. “How was school today?”
“Good!” Good was good. It was a step up from the okay’s he received every other time he asked. “I made a friend.”
“That’s great.” Abel had been having a hard time socially. They even had a meeting with his teacher about it. “What’s their name?”
“Molly. She invited me to her birthday party.” That was quick if they had only made friends that day. “Can I go?”
“I don’t see why not.” He would have to talk to the girl’s parents first.
“You have to email her mom. It’s in there.” He gestured wildly to his backpack, where the address must have been on a sheet of paper somewhere, before giving Stiles a rather dubious look. “Maybe Wendy or uncle Juice should do it.”
“I’ll do it tonight.”
“You’ll forget.” Abel’s tone was not lacking accusation.
“Will not.” Jeez, you forget the kid one time and he holds it against you forever.
It wasn’t like he forgot him at the store or something. He left him at the house one morning when he was supposed to take him to school. He made it all the way to the elementary school before he realized the boy wasn’t with him.
“Will too.”
Stiles was a mature adult, so he did not stick his tongue out at his nephew as he passed him and made his way into the kitchen. Thomas was scooting around happily on the tiled floor in his walker, while Juice was standing at the counter chopping up fruit.
“Honey, I’m home.” Juice’s face scrunched up at the endearment, causing Stiles to lay it on a bit thicker. “I missed you so much.”
“Missed you too.” They were both blatantly aware of the internal struggle Stiles had when getting ready to leave the house every morning. “How was class?”
“It was class.” He couldn’t think of one good reason as to why he decided to continue his education. “I used to like learning. I swear I did.”
“You’ll like it again, when it’s stuff you are actually interested in.” Hopefully, his lack of interest in his current classes was not going to show up in the work he did.
“You’re probably right.” He said as he dropped down into a chair, pushing his bag away from him on the dining room table. “Did Abel tell you the good news?”
“About his little girlfriend? Yeah.” Girlfriend? Stiles shuddered at the thought. He figured they had at least nine or ten years before they dealt with Abel bringing home significant others. “I was kind of surprised by the girl part. I think I was still in the girls are gross and have cooties stage when I was his age.”
“I was knee deep in my infatuation with Lydia…and Chibs.” His husband let out an undignified snort at the admission. “What?”
“Nothing. Nothing.” Juice quirked his lips up in a smile and Stiles couldn’t help but be a little mesmerized by it. He did not get to see that very often. “I always knew you had a thing for Chibs.”
“I’ll have you know that my crush on Chibs vanished very quickly, when this teenager rocking a faux-hawk came walking into Teller-Morrow.” The older man’s face broke out into a blush. “Come on, you know I’ve been looking at you like you were the only person in the room since the day you showed up in Charming.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Call me corny, but, yeah.” He didn’t just say things like that, in that wording, to be cute. He meant every word of it. “Don’t act like you didn’t know.”
“I knew. I just wanted to hear you say it.” Juice sent him a flirty wink that had him flushing red. It was starting to feel like old times, before all the madness of the last year happened.
“I will tell you whatever you want to hear and mean it from the bottom of my heart.” He claimed before letting out a long yawn. “I may need some coffee first.”
“You are in luck. I made a fresh pot before you got home.” He would cop to the whine that escaped his mouth when he caught a whiff of the delicious brew Juice set in front of him, followed by a bowl of assorted fruits. “Eat that.”
“Yes sir.” He learned not to argue when it came to his food intake. There may or may not have been an incident where he fainted because of his lack of food in his system caused by unintentionally skipping a few meals. Juice took it upon himself to keep track of his meals now and Stiles let him without complaint.
“Want to go to the farmers market tomorrow?” Juice asked as he took the open seat next to him.
“Didn’t we do that last weekend?” He understood Juice’s thing about food. He liked it organic and healthy, it was a, your body is a temple, kind of thing. He got it, accepted it, grudgingly sometimes. He just did not understand why they had to go to the farmers market every freaking Saturday.
“Fruit and vegetables run out and go bad.” He pointed out, stealing an orange slice from the bowl. “I can go by myself.”
“I’ll go with you.” He was not going to miss out on a couple hours with his family. “If you want to grow your own stuff, you could always rip out the rose bushes in the backyard.”
“Tear up your grandfathers roses? Are you nuts?” It wasn’t like Nate was worried about them now. “Is this your way of suggesting I find a hobby?”
“Do not align me with Wendy.” Any humor or flirtation between them was sucked out of the room in an instant. “If you were listening to that, then you heard my side too.”
“She’s not exactly wrong.” And that is what Stiles got for trying to defend someone. “Five people cannot live on one salary and dwindling savings.”
“I’ll figure it out.” He got lucky with his scholarship and the house being paid off.
The problem was there were still groceries, gas, water, electricity, property tax, Nate’s care, which he was also using as a cover for Gemma’s Eichen House bills. There were a number of other things that, when added up, were going to put them in the red sooner rather than later.
“We will figure it out.” Juice corrected in a tone that left no room for argument. “It’s a two-way street. I started looking for jobs in the paper and online a couple days ago.”
“Find anything good?” He wasn’t going to discourage Juice from getting back in the world if he really wanted to, even if it scared him shitless.
“A few prospects.”
“Care to share?”
“A couple garages are looking for mechanics.” Stiles tried not to react to that, but the anxiety must have shown on his face. “That would be a little like playing with fire, I guess.”
“No, it’s not… it’s not like some gateway drug or something.” His head might be telling him that working in another garage could somehow lead Juice back to the club life, especially with the Rogue River only a few hours away, but that was his paranoia at work. “If it’s what you want to do, you should do it.”
“I don’t want to do it. Okay, that is not entirely true. I do want to. I’m good at it.” Juice tapped his fingers against the table, as he seemed to find the right words to explain why being a mechanic was not an option any more. “I don’t think I can be in that kind of environment right now. Around all of those people, almost every day.”
Juice used to thrive being surrounded by people. He was a social guy by nature. That part of him had been seemingly stripped away now. He was nervous around too many people. It made him twitchy and set him on edge. It was one thing for Juice to be around Stiles and the boy’s, it was different for him to be in a crowd all by himself.
“I pass a tattoo place on my way to school. They put up a sign recently saying they’re hiring.” Juice had done his ink, it turned out awesome if he did say so himself. “It could be cool.”
“Touching people.” He tended to shy away from people now, which was completely understandable given what happened to him.
“With a needle.” He felt a little squeamish just thinking about it.
“There is a job I put in an application for. It’s in technical support.” He could get back to his computer hacker roots, kind of. “It’s a call center type thing. They call in. I listen to what problem they’re having with their device and I try to help.”
“Sounds awesome.” It sounded boring as fuck, but if Juice liked it then more power to him. “Those call centers are packed with people, though.”
“That’s the thing. I can do it from here.” It sort of defeated the purpose of getting out of the house, but it was still progress. “It will probably piss Wendy off.”
“Fuck Wendy.”
“Our neighbors already think I am.” Juice said with complete seriousness in his voice.
“What?” He replied dumbly, because what the actual fuck?
“The neighbors think Wendy and I are married.” Stiles was fairly certain his jaw hit the floor. “And you’re the rent-boy we hire to spice up our sex life.”
“What the fuck?” That was wrong on so many levels, not to mention an image he did not need in his head. “How do you even know that?”
“I heard them talking when I was mowing the front lawn yesterday.” Werewolf hearing, man, it was a blessing and a curse.
“That might explain why the old lady from down the street told me that I should be ashamed of myself for degrading the good Reverend’s home.” She had stopped him when he was taking out the trash a couple of days prior to talk to him about his lifestyle. “Here I thought she had something against homosexuals.”
“None of them seem to mind that.” Juice said thoughtfully. “There’s a lesbian couple two doors down that Wendy’s making friends with. I don’t think sexuality really bothers these people.”
“Just paying for sex.” To each his own, he supposed. “I don’t care what they think about us, honestly. They have been nice enough to leave us alone.”
“They leave you alone because you’re gone most of the time and they think you are a prostitute. They love coming to talk to me.” Juice cringed as if it were the most annoying thing in the world. “They keep reminding me that they haven’t had a chance to host a Welcome to the Neighborhood barbecue for us.”
“We’ve been here over a month, haven’t they forgotten about that yet?”
“I don’t think they will shut up about it until we agree to it.”
“A Welcome to the Neighborhood barbecue. Jesus. It just sounds like a suburban nightmare.” He was sure they only did things like that in movies and television.
“That’s what happens when you move to the suburbs.”
“We live in a cul-de-sac.”
“It’s the same thing.”
“We are so out of our element here, aren’t we?”
“Scared of the suburbs?”
“Just the repetitive lifestyle it comes with.”
Stiles was lagging behind as they walked from booth to booth. He let the stroller take most of his weight as he pushed it over the pavement. Juice was ahead of him by a few feet, Abel’s hand in his as they walked side by side. It was adorable and Stiles may have snapped a photo without them noticing and set it as the wallpaper on his phone.
Those two were in good spirits, enjoying their time at the farmers market and the day in general. Stiles and Thomas? Not so much. The summer heat was making them cranky. They had been stopped half a dozen times since they arrived by people wanting to coo at the baby. He was well aware that Thomas was a cute kid, but he did not need to be told every five minutes. They were probably the only ones at the market not having a good time.
“Do you want to leave?” Juice’s voice startled him into a stop. He didn’t even notice the older man had slowed his pace to allow him to catch up.
“No, it’s okay, we can stay.” He wasn’t going to make Juice and Abel leave just because he wasn’t enjoying himself. “I could use a cup of coffee though.”
“Don’t you get enough of that at work?” He shook his head, he rarely sampled product from work. The coffee he made was too damn expensive anyway. “Would you be open to trying something new?”
“I don’t know.” He had given up many of his favorite foods to support Juice’s healthy lifestyle crap. He didn’t want to give up coffee too. “I don’t like change. I like coffee.”
“You drink too much coffee. “ He scoffed at the allegation. “You have a two pot a day habit. It’s not healthy.”
“You’re not healthy.” He muttered under his breath causing his husband to chuckle.
“Go find somewhere to sit down and I’ll get us some drinks.” Stiles gave him a nod of confirmation as he walked away.
He took Abel’s hand to keep him close, not wanting to lose him in the crowd. He led him and Thomas to a free bench, sitting himself down and pulling his oldest nephew onto his lap. He turned the front of the stroller toward him, so he could look in on the baby.
He pushed his sunglasses up his nose to block out the bright daylight as he waited for Juice to return. Thomas was sleeping soundly in the stroller, a plastic key-ring clutched in his tiny hand. He draped a small blanket over the top of the stroller, shading the baby from the direct light. Abel’s baseball cap seemed to be doing a good job of protecting him from the harsh rays.
“Here,” Juice held out a cup as he sat down beside them. “Drink this.”
“What is it?” He questioned as he took the proffered item, eyeing it suspiciously. “It’s green.”
“It’s good for you.” He handed a smaller cup with identical liquid in it to Abel. “Trust me.”
“Oh, I trust you.” Trusting him was not the problem here. “It is the drink I do not trust.”
“Those shamrock shakes you like from McDonalds are green and you drink those.” That was an entirely different situation and a different shade of green. “I’m not going to tell you what’s in it or what it’s called, because you would throw it away. Just taste it.”
“If it’s gross I’m going to dump it on your head.“ He threatened halfheartedly.
“You do that.”
“I will.” He psyched himself up before tipping the cup back and taking a small sip. He was blessedly surprised when the contents didn’t make him want to gag. “It doesn’t suck.”
“That’s a compliment coming from you.” Juice quipped. “What do you think, Abel?”
“It’s good.” The boy proclaimed. “I like it.”
“Good.” Juice gave him a shit-eating grin and his best I told you so look that had him rolling his eyes.
“He’s five. He eats dirt.” He replied petulantly.
“Do not!” Abel shrieked indignantly.
“Sure you don’t.” Stiles patted in shoulder consolingly.
“You want me to cook tonight or do you want to do it?” Juice asked, changing the subject. “It’s Wendy’s turn, but I doubt she would actually do it.”
“Wendy would burn the damn house down.” He grumbled low enough for only Juice to hear. “Or poison us. I’ll do it. You have cooked every night this week, you deserve a night off.”
“Are you going to tell me about this beef you have with Wendy?” His husband inquired. “You were fine with her, friendly even, and now you are not. If this is about her thing with me – “
“It’s not.” He said quickly before backtracking. “I mean, it is, a little, I guess, but it’s not only that. Can we talk about this later? When the kids are not in the immediate vicinity?”
“Sure.”
Juice settled the boys into the living room so Abel could watch and movie and Thomas could sleep in the playpen, before joining Stiles in the kitchen. The younger man was scrubbing soapy dishes in the sink before placing them in the dishwasher. Gemma used to do the same thing, wash the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. He wasn’t about to point that out to Stiles and put him in an even worse mood than he was already in. Instead, he stood beside him to rinse and load after Stiles washed.
“Wendy’s in the shower.” He told him. “The boys are content in the living room. Want to talk?”
“About?” Stiles wanted to play dumb, which he only did when he absolutely did not want to talk.
“What is going on with you and Wendy?” They had to get to the bottom of it before things became incredibly uncomfortable for everyone.
“I don’t know. She’s just rubbing me the wrong way.” He dropped his gaze, turning his focus entirely on the plate in his hands. “Every time she comes in the room I just can’t relax.”
“I’ve noticed.” He would keep the fact that Stiles could not relax period, whether Wendy was present or not, to himself. “Did she do something?”
“No, she hasn’t done anything.” He said exasperatedly. “Aside from telling me to get you out of the house, which she had no right to do. I have no fucking clue why she thought–“
“Stiles.”
“What, she thinks she can say whatever she wants and no one will get upset about it? God forbid anyone speak against her in fear that it will send her over the edge and into a relapse.” He was on a roll now. “Well fuck if I’m going to walk on eggshells around her because she’s weak.”
Stiles slammed the plate into the sink to accentuate his point, causing it to break in his hands. The scent of blood hit Juice’s nose before it showed itself in the dirty dishwater. Stiles didn’t react. His hands stayed gripped around the shards of the glass plate until Juice reached in his own to pry them away.
“Uncles?” Abel called from the doorway.
“Everything’s fine, Abel.” Juice assured the boy. “Go finish your movie.”
Stiles kept his eyes toward the floor as Juice pulled his hands away from the sink. They were bleeding profusely, cut deep enough to need medical attention. Stiles didn’t seem to be in any pain, or maybe he was but didn’t care. He grabbed a clean dishtowel from the counter to help stave off the bleeding on one hand, his concern growing when Stiles didn’t even flinch when he wrapped it tightly around the wound.
“We have to take you to the hospital or urgent care.” He concluded upon further inspection of the cuts. “These are deep.”
“They’re fine.” Stiles said lowly. “Just need a bandage.”
“You need stitches.” He tied a second towel around the other hand. “A band-aid is not going to be enough.”
“There’s a needle and thread in the junk drawer.” He might have thought he was joking if not for the flatness of his tone. “Peroxide and gauze in the first aid kit.”
“You want me to stitch you up?” There was no way in hell that was going to happen. “No.”
“I’ll do it myself.”
“No, you are going to see a doctor.” He wasn’t going to let Stiles hurt himself worse. “Let me go tell Wendy we’re leaving, so she can keep an eye on the boys.”
The ER was pretty busy on a Saturday night. He and Stiles spent a few hours in the waiting area with other patients that did not have life threatening injuries. Stiles hadn’t said much at all since they had arrived, only answering questions for the paperwork Juice filled out for him, then keeping quiet the rest of the time.
He was nearly lethargic by the time the nurse took them back to a room to wait for the doctor. It took them several minutes to get a response from him when asked about his pain level. The nurse eventually took Juice aside to ask if Stiles was on anything. It took some convincing to make her believe that Stiles was clean.
It was only when the nurse left them alone did Juice become agitated. Being in a hospital setting sent him back to his last morning at County, being locked in the infirmary with Lin’s men, bent over the gurney. He quivered at the memory and began pacing the length of the room. His eyes strayed to the nearest exit, the open door, to prove to himself that he wasn’t trapped, that he could leave if he wanted to.
“You are safe.” Stiles promised him in a hoarse voice. “You’re safe.”
Juice turned to his husband who looked small and fragile, sitting on the hospital bed, hands resting on his knees, bloody palms up. His eyes were clear in a way they hadn’t been since he smashed the plate in the sink. It was for him, he realized. Stiles had come back to himself, because he saw Juice beginning to panic.
“You’re not there. You are here with me.” Stiles continued, brown eyes locking with Juice’s. “Be here with me.”
That was what it came down to. That was what saved him and he was sure it was the same for Stiles. Being there, being together, was enough to banish the bad memories for just a little while. Even when the nightmares couldn’t be pushed away, just having Stiles near helped him cope.
He took a step toward Stiles, cupped his face between his hands. He brought their foreheads together, a gesture that seemed so much more intimate than a kiss in moments like this. He felt Stiles sigh, his body going lax and his own relaxing in return.
“I’m here.” He assured his husband in a whisper.
“Need you.” Stiles confessed weakly.
His grip tightened the slightest at the admittance. Stiles hated needing to be taken care of, needing people, more so than Juice did. He knew what it meant that Stiles was saying it now. It wasn’t because he thought Juice was leaving and he was giving him a reason not to. It was because he knew Juice would stay and trusted him to give him what he needed.
“We’re going to get these taken care of,” He reached a hand down to trail a finger over one of Stiles injured ones. “Then we are going to go home and sleep. Tomorrow we are going to take it easy.”
“I work tomorrow.”
“Doctor’s note.” He could only work the register with his hands the way they were anyway.
“Kids have to be looked after.”
“Wendy can handle them.” Stiles nostrils flared at the suggestion. “I don’t think your problem is with Wendy. I think she’s an easy target.”
“Who’s my problem with, then?”
“Let’s talk about that tomorrow.” It was too complicated to get into now. “Maybe we’ll go for a ride, stop somewhere in the mountains. We can talk, scream, yell, get all that frustration out somewhere no one can hear us.”
“I’m not frustrated with you.”
“I know.” Stiles anger wasn’t directed at him or any of the living, he was sure. “We yell at the world, at god, at the dead.”
“Think it will help?”
“It does in the movies.” Maybe it could work in real life too. “Sound like a plan?”
“Yeah.”
They sat on the park bench at a deserted rest stop overlooking the mountaintop. They passed a joint back and forth, doing nothing more than enjoying the sounds of nature in the morning. They were both weary from the drive up and the long night they had.
They didn’t return home from the hospital until well after midnight. Wendy and the boys were already tucked away in bed, so they headed off to their own room. Stiles had burrowed under the blankets as soon as he had changed into his pajamas, while Juice opted for his second shower of the day.
He did that sometimes, showered multiple times a day. He needed to wash away the feel of phantom hands roaming his body, that wrong, violated feeling that lingered. He scrubbed it away, once hard enough to make himself bleed. Stiles took to checking up on him after that. He would knock on the door if Juice had been under the water too long, so he didn’t scrub his skin raw and hurt himself.
He joined Stiles in bed after that, laying next to him, but keeping a measured distance between them. An invisible boundary, which could only be crossed if Juice felt like he could be touched. It was such a contrast to how they used to sleep, practically on top of each other with limbs tangled together, usually naked.
It meant everything to Juice that Stiles understood his newfound nervousness, his fear of physical contact. He was not afraid of Stiles, he knew the other man would never hurt him in that way, or any other way, but sometimes his body couldn’t differentiate between an innocent touch and a nefarious one, between the past and the present. Stiles did not push him for touch, he left Juice initiate every handhold, every kiss, everything.
But Stiles forgot sometimes, late at night when he was lost in slumber. His body would reach out for Juice, looking for comfort. They would both jerk awake at the immediate contact. They didn’t apologize for it anymore, they understood it was just something that happened now. It was part of their new normal.
Other times, like the night before, Stiles would make a conscious effort to seek comfort or offer it. He would lay a hand between them, like an olive branch, and let Juice make the decision to accept or not. On bad nights, he would press his lips to Stiles palm before pushing it back toward him. Some nights he would wrap his fingers around his husband’s wrist and refuse to let go until the alarm clock blared. On the rare occasion, like the previous night, he would allow Stiles to curl against him, to share his space, his warmth.
“Thank you for last night.” Stiles said as if he was reading Juice’s mind. “I know it’s hard for you.”
He knocked their shoulders together in response, earning a smile from the younger man. It amazed him how easily, how the smallest touch, could light Stiles up. He forced himself to touch Stiles more, even at the times when he didn’t feel like he could. Stiles caught on to those moments quickly. He would move away and send Juice a disapproving look. He only wanted Juice to touch him if he really wanted to, not because he felt like he had to.
“It’s nice up here. Quiet.” Quiet was generally a double-edged sword for them. It was both welcomed and feared. “The ride was nice.”
It was the first time Juice had ridden his bike since he had gone to jail. Stiles sat behind him, arms clasped around his waist and head resting on his back. Any other day Stiles would have been firmly against riding bitch and would have hopped on Jax’s Dyna. With his hands being injured, he wouldn’t have been able to grip the handle bars, so he didn’t complain when Juice suggested they only take one bike.
“You like it here?” He asked Stiles. “Not here, specifically, but in Oregon?”
“It’s okay.” He shrugged noncommittally. “It’s not home.”
“It doesn’t have to be forever.” They didn’t have to stay in Eugene for the rest of their lives. “We can go back to Beacon Hills when you’re done with school. We can go anywhere.”
“Except Charming.” Stiles reminded him. “Where do you want to live?”
“I don’t care where we go as long as we’re free.” He could not be trapped again, locked in a way of life that only death could get him out of.
“That sounds nice.” His husband replied wistfully. “I think when the kids are done with high school, when they move out, that we should sell everything we own. We should sell it all, and get an RV or get on the bikes and just go.”
“Go where?”
“Anywhere. Nowhere. Everywhere.”
Stiles craved freedom in its purest form. Juice had always seen that wanderlust in him, but Stiles held back from it. His family kept him grounded, in place. Gemma once told him that people like he and Stiles weren’t made to stay put, to live within societal norms. They needed freedom, that taste of the outlaw life, like they needed air. They would self-destruct without it.
“Maybe we should take trips during the summer. Just us.” He proposed as he held out the joint to the younger man. “Abel and Thomas can spend some time with your dad and we can have a small vacation.”
“I like that idea.” Stiles said as waved off the offered spiff.
“Are you ready to talk?” He questioned cautiously, not wanting to ruin their nice day.
“We are talking.”
“About this.” He gestured toward the bandages on Stiles hands.
“I didn’t do it on purpose.” There was no spike in his heartbeat, nothing to indicate a lie. “It was an accident.”
“You were pissed, so you broke the plate.” He should have let go of it the moment it shattered to pieces, but he didn’t. He held on until Juice made him release it. “You were angry at Wendy. She’s a trigger for you.”
“I already told you that I don’t know why. She’s an easy target, I guess, like you said.”
“That’s not all of it, Stiles.”
“I love Wendy, you know? Even when she was using or when Jax and Gem pushed her out, I tried to keep in touch so she knew she wasn’t alone.” Stiles picked at the gauze around one of his wounded hands as he spoke. “I love Tara too. I connected with Tara deeper than I did with Wendy. We understood each other on a different level. They’re both my sisters and I love them.”
“But?”
“It’s not fair. Tara did everything she possibly could to save those boys, to give them a better life. Wendy did nothing.” Grief and hatred leaked into his voice. “Wendy couldn’t even stay clean when she was pregnant with Abel. She nearly killed him before he was even born. Tara saved him, took care of him. She gave her life trying to give them a better one. It’s not fair.”
“It’s not fair that Wendy is alive and Tara’s gone.” Juice continued for him. “It’s not fair that Thomas will never know his mother, but will know Wendy. Those boys might look to Wendy as their maternal figure, when she has done nothing to earn the title.”
“I don’t think she came back to take them or whatever. I just hate the way it seems like she just slithered her way into their lives when Jax was weak.” It was exactly how it happened though, no matter Wendy’s true intentions. “I know it’s not fair to think like that. To take it out on her.”
“I think you’re having a delayed reaction to what happened.” Stiles cast watery eyes on him. “There was so much going on after Tara died that no one had the time to grieve. You have dealt with one thing after another since Tara and Jax, Bobby and Gemma. Dealing with what happened to them was pushed back. Now we’re settled, things are calm.”
“So, what, my subconscious has decided that it’s a good time for me to deal with my feelings?”
“You’re going to have to do it sometime.” He had been putting it off long enough. Juice, Wendy, and the boys had all gone through the motions, were still going through them, but Stiles forced himself to put it off. “All that crap you’ve got built up is coming out as misdirected anger, maybe not entirely misdirected, but still. Wendy’s an easy target now, but eventually she is not going to be enough. I would rather not be on the receiving end and I don’t want the boys to be either.”
“What do I do? I can’t just sit down and make myself mourn the dead.”
“I don’t know.” It wasn’t as if he was an expert on the subject. He was still trying to deal with things of his own. He didn’t know how to help Stiles through his. “When Melissa gave us that list of counselors, it wasn’t only for Abel.”
“You want me in therapy?” Stiles asked incredulously.
“What if we both went? Not together but...” He didn’t actually want to talk about his trauma with a stranger, but sometimes it was easier than talking to someone you knew. “It’s helping Abel.”
“My dad sent me to a counselor after my mom died.” Stiles admitted. “It wasn’t horrible. It might have helped, a little.”
“Do you want me to make you an appointment tomorrow?” He supposed he could make one for himself as well.
“I can make my own appointments. It’s a thing I do now. I am a grown up.” Juice chuckled at the petulance in his voice.
“Okay, when are you going to do it? While you’re at work or in between classes? While you are sleeping or spending time with the kids?” Juice inquired. “Your schedule is packed pretty tight. I can schedule our appointments, I have the time.”
“Thanks.” Stiles said sincerely. “Are we done with this heavy shit?”
“Sure.”
“If we are going to go somewhere this summer, where do you want to go?” He asked. “I veto Mexico. Nothing good ever happens when I go to Mexico.”
“We can spend a few days at the coast.” The summer was a long ways away from now. “Though that sounds more like something we could do on spring break with the kids.”
“We can go to New York.” Stiles suggested hesitantly. “You can visit your other family, the ones you want to see, anyway.”
“No.” Juice shook his head. “I’m not against the idea. I’m just not ready for that. Maybe in a few years, when I’ve got my shit together.”
“Have you talked to them since you left Queens?” So much for being done with the heavy shit.
“A couple of times. Marisol usually calls me to check in.” She was a bit of a mother hen. “It was easier for me to try and make a clean break.”
“Full moon tonight.” Stiles changed the subject as if sensing Juice’s discomfort. “How do you feel?”
“Energetic. Electric.” He could feel the wolf under his skin and it felt fantastic, not painful like Scott said it would. “It’s like all my sense are on a 150% power.”
“You can shift if you want.” Stiles encouraged. “Stretch your claws or teeth. We can always stay here for the moon. You can run in the woods.”
“I haven’t been through enough full moons to be comfortable having you with me on one.” He did not want to end up hurting Stiles. “I don’t want to lose control.”
“I do have some experience with out of control werewolves.” He reminded him. “I can handle it. I trust you to keep yourself together.”
“Do you have your mountain ash?” It was stupid question, Stiles always kept a vial on him.
“Yes.”
“We didn’t bring any food.” They hadn’t planned to spend a full day and night there, only a few hours.
“So we ride to that general store a few miles back and pick up some supplies.” Stiles easily came up with a solution to that problem. “We don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, but we have the option.”
“We can stay.” Juice studied him for a moment trying to figure out why this was so important. “Why do you want to stay so bad?”
“It’s open here.” He climbed off the bench and spread his arms wide. “It feels better here. I can breathe. I’m not….”
“You’re not suffocating.” He finished the thought the younger man couldn’t.
Stiles nodded but looked down, ashamed, curling his arms around his middle, trying to make himself smaller. Juice realized suddenly that Stiles didn’t think he was allowed to feel the way he did, like it was wrong for him to feel as if he was suffocating in their new life. And that was ridiculous.
Life in Oregon was so different from their previous lives. When Juice was with the club and Stiles was with the pack, danger and excitement were part of their everyday lives. Now they existed in a repetitive bubble of school, work, and kids. Everything was scheduled. Every day started and ended the same way.
“That’s okay, you know? You’re used to it being just you and your dad. Now you can’t turn around without stepping on someone.” He took the safest route in an attempt to nullify some of Stiles guilt. “It’s crowded and claustrophobic.”
“It’s not like that for you, though.”
“I spent most of my nights and days at the clubhouse, with members and croweaters, before that I grew up in a house where I was one of six kids.” Crowded was his normal. “You will get used to it. It just takes time.”
“Do you have anything you want to get off your chest?” Stiles asked out of the blue, once again changing the topic of conversation “This is a two-way street, as you said the other day. I am not the only one who is fucked up.”
“I’m okay.”
“I’m sorry, do I look like Chibs to you?” He questioned, crossing his arms over his chest and standing a little taller. “The, I’m okay, bullshit doesn’t fly with me. Spill it, sweetheart.”
“Sweetheart?” Pet names weren’t really their thing, they didn’t really sound right coming out of their mouths.
“You’re white-knuckling it just as much as I am. Talk to me.”
“It’s this, Stiles.” He held up his arm to show Stiles the tattoo he had gotten when he patched in to SAMCRO. “I was excommunicated from the club, more or less. I should have had it covered by now. It’s wrong for me to still have it.”
“I never said anything about it, because I thought you wanted to keep it. It’s dangerous to have it. It’s easily identifiable.” Stiles moved toward him to get a closer look at the ink. “I didn’t want the club to take everything from you.”
“The club hasn’t taken everything. I still have you. I can still talk to Chibs.” Being able to speak with Chibs when he called to check on Stiles helped him deal with not being a part of the club, not being able to talk to his other brothers. “I don’t need the tattoo. If I had gotten to walk away from the club, without having to die, I would have scraped the ink. It is wrong for me to have it. I’m not a Son anymore.”
“I don’t know how you can remove it.” Stiles acknowledged. “Scott had to have his burned into his skin. You would have to ask Derek if there’s a way, a safe way, to remove it.”
“Okay.”
“Can I…” Stiles faltered as his eyes roamed the tattoo. “Would it bother you if I had it?”
“What do you mean?” It would bother him very much if Stiles decided to patch SACMRO or the Rogue River charter, but he didn’t think that was what his husband had in mind.
“I asked Chibs if it would be okay if I got the reaper tattoo. I was going to put it here.” He placed a hand over his heart. “It’s the only way I could think that would properly honor them all. Opie, Piney, Bobby, and…Jax.”
“Is Happy going to do your ink?” There was no way Chibs or the others would deny Stiles the right to wear the reaper.
“Yeah, it was the only requirement they gave me.” It looked like Stiles would be taking a trip to Charming soon. “Would it bother you if I had it? I don’t want to bring up bad memories every time you see me without a shirt.”
“It won’t bother me.” He tried to put the younger man at ease. “It’ll look good on you, a nice addition to your croweater tattoo.”
“No!” Stiles flushed a deep shade of crimson and pointed an accusing finger at him. “You are not allowed to make fun of me for that!”
“I’d never seen a guy with one before you.” Stiles crow was on his left forearm, usually hidden by his layer of plaid. “I was a little shocked when I first saw it, mainly because of how ugly it was.”
“It was Tara’s fault.” Stiles claimed pitifully, and Juice had heard that before.
Stiles had gone to Charming once Tara was released from the hospital after injuring her hand. They had gotten a little drunk, a little high, and Tara had somehow gotten a hold of a tattoo gun. They decided that Stiles, having swallowed some of Juice’s cum, was officially a croweater and he needed the ink to match his status. Needless to say it took a lot of work on Juice’s part to fix the sorry excuse for a crow Tara had half-assed on Stiles arm. Honestly, it was more something he expected to happen if Stiles were with Wendy. Tara had been the responsible one. However, Tara and Stiles brought out certain immature qualities in one another.
“If you would have patched in, you would have been the first Son to also be a croweater.”
“What an honor.” Stiles drawled sarcastically. “Hey, are you going to shift or what? I haven’t seen your wolfy face yet.”
“It’s still early.” He looked up at the bright sun.
“You don’t have to wait for the moon to rise to shift.” Stiles told him. “If that’s what Scott told you then he was lying. He pulls away from the wolf, he doesn’t fully accept it. It’s why he’s not as strong as he could be. It is why he still struggles on the full moon, though he hides it well.”
“Speaking from experience?”
“I was an alpha for a hot second.” He said casually, as if it were no big deal. “I didn’t find it to be as problematic as Scott does. I don’t know if it was because I didn’t fight it, or if it was because the wolf was so much weaker than the fox that lived inside of me.”
“Do you miss it?”
“The Nogitsune?” The was a dangerous road to go down.
“The wolf.” He clarified.
“No.” Stiles answered without hesitation. “I don’t want to be a wolf. I like being human.”
“And me?” Juice let his features change. He let his eyes glow blue, his claws extend, and his teeth drop down. “How do you like me as a wolf?”
“You have eyebrows so that’s a plus.” He joked, his hands reached out, stopping just before they made contact with him. “Can I feel?”
“Yes.”
He grabbed Stiles wrists, pulling him between his spread legs. Stiles giggled, fucking giggled, causing Juice’s face to break out in a grin. Stiles bit his lip as his fingers touched Juice’s brow, trailed the side of his face, from his cheekbones to his lips. He was humming to himself as he took in the new features.
Juice reached out a hand of his own. He ran it through Stiles hair that was matted down, flat from sleep. He went further, moving his hand down to graze Stiles jaw, letting the two-day stubble scratch his palm. Stiles leaned into the touch, his hum turning into a purr.
“I married a cat.” He mused more to himself than anything.
Stiles rubbed his scruff against Juice’s hand like a feline scent marking. There was still that underlying cautiousness, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to have this, allowed to touch. It was something he was grateful for and despised at the same time. It made him yearn for a time when touch was something that came so easily.
They used to offer it so freely to one another. They would gravitate into each other’s space like they were being pulled by a magnetic force. They would kiss like they were desperate for it, as if they would never have it again.
One day they could be like that again. They could get back to how they used to be, he was sure of it. It was just going to take time.
“Hey,” He whispered to his husband as his features morphed back to human form.
“Hmm?” Stiles eyes met his just before Juice brought their lips together.
It was soft, gentle in the way they were with each other now. Stiles fell into the kiss with a content sigh and let Juice take the lead. There was no frantic need to it like there once would have been. He kept it slow, enjoying the press of his husband’s lips against his.
It was Stiles that broke the kiss. He moved back far enough for their lips to part yet stayed closed enough for them to share the same breath. He gave Juice a considering look before kissing his cheek. Juice furrowed his brows at the gesture before Stiles did it again on the opposite side of his face. He did it again and again, peppering kisses enthusiastically on both his cheeks. He couldn’t help but laugh when Stiles stubble tickled his skin.
“You are a menace.” He grumbled into Stiles ear.
“Is that a problem?”
“Nope. I think I’ll still keep you.”
It was early the next morning when they arrived back at the house. Stiles was exhausted from being up all night and his legs were shaking as he dismounted the bike. Juice seemed to be on an adrenaline high, but the crash was coming, Stiles could see that much.
He leaned heavily against the motorcycle, not trusting his trembling limbs to carry him properly. He looked up at Juice who was eyeing the two women across the street shiftily.
“What?” He asked, wondering why they piqued Juice’s interest so much.
“They’re talking about us.” Oh, that was great. “How dare I leave my poor wife alone all night with our children, while I took my lover on a fun night out, and then have the audacity not to come home until after dawn.”
“Oh my god.” Judgmental freaks. “Forget them. We’ll be old news soon enough.”
“Yeah, okay.” He agreed. “Let’s go inside.”
“Yep, I gotta get ready for class.” It was going to be a very long day.
“Skip.”
“I can’t skip.” He could, but he would probably regret it. “I’ll power through it.”
“Skip.” Juice repeated then huffed when Stiles tried to take a few steps, only to stumble back to the bike for support. “Are you okay?”
“Does your wolf healing take away the tingly feeling you get after spending hours on a vibrating machine?”
“Yep.” The older man smirked. “You’re the one who wanted to take the scenic route.”
“My mistake.”
“I have a solution.” Juice stepped forward, and then turned his back on him when he was directly in front of him. “Hop on.”
“What?” His confusion only cleared when Juice crouched down slightly. “A piggy back ride?”
“Yeah, come on.” He patted his shoulder to encourage Stiles to climb up.
“Are you sure?” He couldn’t physically hurt Juice, but didn’t want to make him uncomfortable either. They already had more physical contact in the last two days then they had normally. He was enjoying it, but he wasn’t sure where the limit was and didn’t want to make Juice feel uneasy.
“Yes, I’m sure.” Juice patted his shoulder again. “I won’t drop you.”
“You better not.”
Fuck, they were that disgustingly cute couple, he thought as he hopped up on Juice’s back. The older man hooked his arms around Stiles legs while he curled his arms loosely around Juice’s neck. He had to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it all, which set off a fit of laughter in Juice. They hadn’t had this much fun in a while, it was nice.
“Onward, my steed!” He exclaimed dramatically, pointing toward the front door.
“Oh, Mr. Stilinski!” A shrill female voice called to them.
“Who is that?” He tensed up, slightly panicked.
“The lady from across the street.” Juice muttered back to him.
“How does she know my name?” He never introduced himself to the neighbors, he hadn’t had the time.
“She doesn’t. She knows mine.” Right, Juice was a Stilinski now too.
“Oh.” He nodded as Juice turned them toward the clacking of flip-flops of cement.
“Mr. Stilinski, I am so glad I caught you and your uh…friend.” She gave Stiles a tight smile. “I wanted to remind you and your wife, again, of that barbecue. We do it for all new residents. No exceptions.”
“Well, me and my husband,” Juice said pointedly. “Will have to check our schedules and find a good time.”
“Your husband?” She seemed a little surprised, but the judgmental look on her face was gone, so he considered that a win.
“I’m Stiles.” He offered her a smile of his own. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Ellen Blankenship,” She introduced herself. “I am so sorry. I just assumed the young woman who lived here was Mr. Stilinski’s wife.”
“No worries. Wendy is our nanny.” That was the easiest way to explain Wendy. “I’m rarely here, I’m busy with work and school. I can see how assumptions could be made.”
“Well, it is nice to finally meet you. You both seem to be on your way in,” She noticed. “I’ll let you get on with your day. Just let me know about that barbecue.”
“We’ll do that.”
“Have a good day you two.” She gave them a polite wave before she made her way back across the street.
“At least we got that cleared up.” He said through a yawn. “Let’s go to bed.”
“What about class?”
“I’ll skip.” He would end up falling asleep during his first one anyway. “I’ll go to my afternoon lectures if I’m up to it.”
“Okay.”
“Hey,” He tightened his arms around Juice. “Thanks for this weekend. I really needed it.”
“So did I.”