So, because there is nowhere near enough Stiles/Jackson out there, I am going to contribute. This one is set after 2x09. It is very loosely based on the song Party Poison by My Chemical Romance (in title only). Basically because the leaves put in the drink at the party were kinda like poison... and the hallucinations were poisonous... I said it was a very loose connection. Anyway, enjoy!

Stiles couldn't sleep. He could hear his dad moving about downstairs, trying to find odd jobs about the house with which he could occupy himself. Eventually, Stiles heard his dad come upstairs. He heard him stop, briefly, outside Stiles' room. Stiles stayed quiet. He heard his dad walk past the door and go into his room, closing the door behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to get to sleep.

He couldn't. Thoughts spun around his head. One thought kept popping up, over and over again. How am I supposed to raise this stupid kid on my own? He felt his throat clench up. It couldn't be true. It wasn't true. He tried to convince himself. His dad didn't think that. It was because of that hallucinatory drug. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, attempting to keep the tears from spilling out as threatened. Closing his eyes merely meant that the scene from earlier repeated in his head, a film put on loop. Stiles opened his eyes. A few tears dribbled out and suddenly his vision was blurred and the tears wouldn't stop coming. His body was wracked with a sob and he buried his head in his pillow so that his dad wouldn't hear. Not that he would. His dad would sleep through anything. And maybe Stiles was lucky. But now, he didn't want to be lucky. He wanted his dad to come and say that, no, the hallucination, if that is what is was a part of Stiles' brain pointed out, was wrong and that he didn't think that, he would never think that. But he didn't come, and Stiles was left sobbing into his pillow.

There was a knock at his window. Stiles had stopped crying. His eyes were rimmed with sore, red skin. He got up. Outside his window was Jackson. Stiles was almost so surprised that he forgot to open the window. Jackson knocked again and Stiles opened the window. Jackson climbed in. "Are you okay?" he asked, immediately, in a very rare show of concern for Stiles' wellbeing. Stiles shook his head. He didn't trust himself to speak. "Is it about the hallucinations?" He had forgotten that everyone had experienced the hallucinations. Jackson stepped further into Stiles' room. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Yes." Stiles whispered, hoarsely, throat sore from sobbing. "Please."

"Okay," Jackson said. "We can talk."

Stiles had never felt so glad to talk to Jackson. It turned out that Jackson came over to do just that. Talk. Because he was scared and upset, too. And Stiles understood that and he wanted to help him. He understood that Jackson was scared that he was being controlled. Scared that they couldn't help him. Jackson looked at him. "You okay now?" Stiles nodded. Jackson got up. "I should go now." Stiles reached out and grabbed his wrist.

"No. Stay."

"But what if..." The unspoken question hung in the air. Stiles shrugged.

"I'll take that chance." Jackson looked at Stiles, surprised. Stiles pulled on his wrist. "C'mon. Lie down." Jackson did as Stiles said, lying down next to Stiles. "Hey," Stiles said, smiling. "Maybe I could control you."

"I'd prefer it to having Matt control me." Jackson confessed. Stiles rolled onto his side, so he was looking at Jackson rather than the ceiling.

"We'll sort it out. I promise," he said. Jackson looked at him, childishly hopeful.

"Thank you," he breathed out. Stiles felt his breath tickle over his face. Jackson's eyes locked onto Stiles'. "Why are you doing this? Truthfully." Stiles hesitated.

"I want to help you."

"But why?"

"Because I think there's more to you than being an asshole jock." Jackson smiled and Stiles' breath hitched slightly. Jackson heard it.

"There's more, isn't there?" he said, moving closer to Stiles. "It's more than just that, isn't it?" Stiles nodded, ashamed.

"I like you. As in like like you." He looked down, unable to meet Jackson's eyes.

"Good," Jackson said. "Because I wouldn't want to be the only one of us feeling like this." Stiles looked up quickly. Jackson smiled and leaned in. He kissed him gently on the lips, then pulled away. Stiles felt a smile spread across his face. He moved closer to Jackson, so they were pressed together. He kissed Jackson on the lips and Jackson kissed back. It was slow and languid and beautiful. He pulled back and smiled. Then, yawned. Jackson chuckled. "Sleep," he said. "I'll still be here in the morning." Stiles nodded and closed his eyes. Jackson rolled onto his back and Stiles rested his head on Jackson's chest. "G'night," he said, sleepily. Jackson kissed the top of his head.

"Goodnight."