Teaching Jackson A Lesson

"So, you're going to start teaching at the school, Orion?" Melissa asked, her hands moving gracefully as she began clearing the plates off the table. Her eyes flicked to him, curiosity sparking in their depths. The soft clatter of dishes filled the room, but her attention remained on Orion, watching for his reaction.

Orion leaned back into the couch, stretching out like a large, lazy cat. His muscular frame sank into the cushions, exuding a kind of casual dominance. He shrugged, his expression unreadable, though the corner of his mouth twitched with faint amusement. "Might as well," he said, his voice deep and relaxed. "It's where all the action seems to go down, and I could use something to pass the time."

Melissa's brow furrowed slightly as she gathered the last dish, her movements pausing for a moment as she considered his words. She looked over at him, one hand resting on her hip. "And what exactly are you going to teach the students?" Her tone was curious but edged with a subtle skepticism, knowing Orion's unpredictable nature.

Orion's lips curved into a sly grin, though his eyes remained closed. "Don't know yet," he said, his voice laced with an almost teasing nonchalance. "Maybe I'll teach them some of my own stuff."

Melissa raised an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth twitching as she dried her hands. "Your own stuff?" she echoed, her voice carrying a hint of both intrigue and caution. She took a step closer, watching him closely, waiting for more details.

Orion cracked open one eye, his gaze meeting hers with a glint of mischief. "Yeah," he said, his voice dropping slightly as if sharing a secret. "Stuff that'll either make them stronger… or scare them senseless." His smile widened, clearly enjoying the mystery.

Melissa shook her head with a soft chuckle, though there was a playful spark in her eyes. "Just make sure you don't break any of them, alright?" she teased, leaning against the counter, her arms crossed as she watched him with a mixture of amusement and wariness.

Orion stretched his arms behind his head, his grin still in place as he closed his eyes again. "No promises," he murmured, his tone lazy but holding a hint of danger.

Beacon Hills High

Scott and Stiles were walking towards their lockers, chatting casually, when out of nowhere, **Jackson grabbed Scott by the collar and slammed him against the lockers with a loud thud.** The clang of metal echoed through the hallway, drawing the attention of the few students nearby. **Jackson's face was twisted in anger, his jaw clenched as he leaned in close to Scott, their noses almost touching.**

"Stiles," Jackson growled, his voice low and menacing, **his eyes never leaving Scott's.** "Before I start knocking the teeth out of your friend here, I want you to tell me what you're taking, who your supplier is, and how I can get in touch with him."

**Stiles, standing a few feet away, barely looked fazed.** He glanced over, his expression more bored than worried, arms crossed over his chest as he sighed. He wasn't too concerned, fully aware of what Scott was capable of now. But then, something strange happened.

**Scott's eyes darted to the ground, his breathing quickening.** He looked... scared. **Stiles frowned in confusion,** waiting for Scott to shove Jackson away or give him that wolfish glare that would make Jackson back off in an instant. But Scott wasn't doing any of that. Instead, **he was stammering, his voice shaky.**

"I—I don't know what you're talking about," **Scott mumbled, his body tense as Jackson's grip tightened.**

**Stiles' eyebrows shot up, surprise flickering across his face.** Why wasn't Scott handling this? He could knock Jackson across the hall without breaking a sweat. **Stiles shook his head and sighed heavily.** Alright, guess I have to step in, he thought.

**Stiles uncrossed his arms and stepped forward, his posture relaxed, but his tone sharp.** "Hey, let go of him before I start knocking your teeth out." He echoed Jackson's own threat with a dry smirk, his eyes narrowing slightly.

**Jackson chuckled darkly, his lips curling into a sneer** as he finally let go of Scott, but not before giving him a hard shove against the locker. **Scott stumbled back, wincing as his shoulder hit the metal.**

"Ha!" **Jackson scoffed, turning to Stiles,** his arrogant smirk widening. "I bet whatever you're taking is really strong if it's making you actually believe you could take me." **He rolled his shoulders, flexing as he stalked toward Stiles, his posture radiating confidence, maybe even a little cockiness.**

**Stiles just smiled.** It wasn't the nervous, twitchy grin Jackson might've been expecting—it was calm, almost too calm. **Stiles stepped forward, his movements deliberate, and his eyes gleamed with a quiet intensity.**

"Oh, you wouldn't believe it," Stiles said, his voice smooth, a hint of amusement in his tone. **He stood his ground, feet planted firmly, as Jackson approached, his smile never wavering.** "It doesn't just make me believe I could take you… it makes me able to do it."

**Jackson stopped, his eyes narrowing as he noticed Stiles' stance.** There was something different about him, something unnerving. **The arrogance in Jackson's eyes flickered for just a second,** but he dismissed it, chuckling again, though this time, there was a slight hesitation in his laugh.

**Stiles took a breath, rolling his shoulders, ready.** He didn't need to put his full strength into this—just enough to send Jackson a message.

As Jackson's fist hurtled toward Stiles, his face twisted into a smug sneer, fully expecting his punch to land. But to his surprise, **Stiles caught his fist mid-air with ease**, his grip like a steel vice. For a moment, **Jackson's eyes widened,** his bravado faltering as he stared at his fist trapped in Stiles' hand.

Stiles' face remained calm, but there was a glint in his eyes, a subtle edge that hadn't been there before. He gave **Jackson's wrist a small, dismissive twist**, forcing the jock to stumble forward, his confidence slipping away with each second.

"Now, I think it's my turn," **Stiles said quietly**, his voice low but carrying a dangerous certainty.

**Without a second's hesitation,** Stiles pivoted his body, his arm swinging with perfect precision. His punch landed square on Jackson's jaw with a resounding crack, the impact sending a ripple through the hall. **Jackson's head snapped to the side,** his eyes dazed as his body crumpled backward, crashing into the lockers with a thud.

**Blood trickled from his mouth,** and as he groaned, a tooth bounced to the floor, echoing against the tiles. **Jackson's hands instinctively went to his face,** his breath ragged as he tried to process what had just happened.

**Stiles stood there, his knuckles barely even bruised,** shaking off his fist with an air of nonchalance. He glanced down at Jackson with a casual smirk. "Guess I wasn't lying about knocking your teeth out, huh?"

**Scott stared, wide-eyed,** still leaning against the locker, disbelief written all over his face. Stiles had just knocked Jackson out cold—something he'd never seen coming.

Jackson's face twisted in pain, his earlier cockiness completely shattered. **His chest heaved as he clutched his jaw,** and for the first time, he looked up at Stiles not with arrogance, but with genuine fear.

Scott glanced at Stiles, concern etched on his face as he bent down to help Jackson up. "Don't you think that was a little extreme?" he asked quietly, his hand outstretched toward Jackson, but the other boy shoved him aside with a sharp glare, clearly humiliated.

Stiles, still shaking off the tension, barely seemed to notice Scott's question. His eyes were fixed elsewhere. He tilted his head slightly, a small, almost disbelieving smile playing on his lips. "I don't think so," he muttered, not really responding to Scott but more to himself. "And for the first time… she's looking right back at me."

Scott frowned in confusion, following Stiles' gaze across the hallway.

There, in the distance, Lydia Martin stood with a small group of friends, her fiery hair catching the light. But she wasn't engaged in the usual gossip or ignoring the world around her. Instead, her eyes were locked on Stiles, a look of curiosity flickering behind her usual confident, detached expression. Her head tilted ever so slightly, almost as if she was reassessing the boy she had never paid attention to before.

Stiles' grin widened just a little as their eyes met, and for the first time, there was no dismissive glance from Lydia. No rolling of her eyes. Just… interest.

Scott glanced between them, bemused, and let out a soft sigh. "Well… that's new."