Title: It Came Upon a Midday Death Hold Grip (A Once Upon a Car Crash Side Story)

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Pairings: Jackson/Danny

Disclaimer: Teen Wolf is this show on MTV. Unfortunately, I like watching it with slash goggles on.

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: is WIP a warning? Fairy Tale!AU, utter crack!, swearing, accidental boy kissing then deliberate boy kissing, bastardization of fairy tale Happily Ever After's and the usual crak!fic hi-jinx

Author's Note:Concomitant ass-crackery with Once Upon a Car Crash. I suggest you read that first. Though this can be read as a standalone.

I'm putting this here first while I find it a proper place. I've also (perhaps inappropriately) inserted it into my ongoing song fic Bigger Boys and Stolen Sweethearts (which although is composed of drabble, it is a linear story in its entirety.) I'll soon remove this from there too.

Please, please, please let me know what you guys think of this one. Most importantly, though... Enjoy! ^^,

Unbeta'd all mistakes are my own.

Summary:

"A rattling in [Jackson's] chest tells him something is missing. He double checks and sees a physician and upon radiographic analysis, his thoracic x-ray not only revealed a superbly well-aligned spine but a radioluscent, saucer-shaped void in his heart."

THIS IS A SNIPPET:

x-x-x-x

1

x-x-x-x

"Mirror, mirror on the wall, tell me, do these jeans make me look like a douchebag?"

"If I said yes, would you break my front-face surface with your fist again like last time?"

"It depends."

"On what?"

"Whether or not you would say yes."

"Then it's a no."

Jackson Whittemore was the fairest of them all. Seriously, this boy was made out of sunbeams and stardust. He very nearly nabbed the title of People's Sexiest Man of the Year last year. Nearly.

This year? It's pretty much in the bag.

But of late, Jackson has been feeling rather off. So off that the fifteen minutes he spends styling his golden blond hair has been sourly reduced to twelve. A rattling in his chest tells him something is missing. He double checks and sees a physician and upon radiographic analysis, his thoracic x-ray not only revealed a superbly well-aligned spine but a radioluscent, saucer-shaped void in his heart.

Needless to say, the boy tried everything to fill it in. He charmed himself a girlfriend, ate heartily almost at every meal time and listened to inspirational Christian music along with his usual songs in the Indie Rock Persuasion playlist on his iPod. Good God, he's even tried wake-boarding and hang-gliding. Although why the last two, no one knows.

But none of those things keep him from rattling like an empty soup can, all nickels and dimes, every time he sachets down the school hallways.

It gets so perplexing that Jackson one day corners his best friend, Danny, in the locker room after a grueling Lacrosse match to confide in him.

"Dan, do you know what this is?" and he extricates his chest x-ray from a brown paper envelope. (Jackson had taken to carrying it around with him.) He shows it to the other boy.

Danny looks it over seriously before sighing in defeat. "I'm sorry but I don't know. Tell you what though – my neighbor is a radiologist not to mention a potions master. I can take this over to him for a diagnosis, if you'd like. Pay a little extra and he may even provide a cure. How's that sound?"

"That's awesome, bro. Let me know what he thinks a.s.a.p. Oh and, a couple of us are going to the bowling alley Friday night. You coming?"

"No," is Danny's shy answer. The taller boy shifts from one foot to the other. "I have something to do that night. Maybe next time."

"Don't tell me you're going out on a date with what's-his-name again. He looks like he belongs in a traveling freak show."

"Hey, lay off on the insults. I don't go around hating on your romantic choices."

"Yeah that and you don't stare at my girlfriend's coin slot, too. So… my bad." And Jackson lifts both arms in mock surrender. "But seriously you could do so much better."

"I know, that's why I dumped his sorry ass. I'm actually… seeing someone else that night."

Something in Jackson's well-toned chest gave an odd stutter.

"Really? Who?" And he swears it isn't curiosity in his tone. Nor suspicion. And a couple of other things that he will not name. (Because he doesn't know what they're called, okay?)

"Stiles."

"WHAT?"

TBC