Jackson arrived at his home, pulling his silver Porsche in behind his dad's Mercedes. His adoptive parents were sitting in the family room watching a movie. They turned to greet him, looking at him as if he were fragile glass and might break if they weren't extremely careful. Granted, the events of the past few days were far outside of their experience, and they were displeased that Jackson had any involvement with them, but overall nothing could make them see anything wrong with their golden boy.
Jackson gave them each a careful one armed hug, trying to make it seem as if he were just in a rush to get up to bed. His mother (ever sharp-eyed) noticed the awkward movement and opened her mouth to ask…but then decided against it.
Up in his room, Jackson stripped down once more (flushing as he remembered the trick Derek played on him) and examined the wound. It still hurt like hell, but Jackson had the urge to rip the bandage off anyway with the eagerness of a child on Christmas morning. He left it in place and thought about the new outlook on life Derek was going to help him achieve. By no means was the 'old' Jackson gone. It sat in the back of his head now, like a petulant spoiled child, still smarting at his own embarrassment this evening and plotting revenge. The new, wiser Jackson told it: "Just shut up." He wanted it to be gone, had hoped it was bitten out of him along with his humanity, but no such luck. He would have to kill it slowly, over a period of years, and even then he doubted it would ever lie completely quiet.
He stared at the ceiling from the satin sheets that covered his waterbed. There was the chance that the bite wouldn't take, or that it might kill him. This could be his last night alive. At the very least he should go down and say something to his parents, tell them how much he loved them. And suddenly realizing for the first time how much he did love them, he felt a sudden peace enter him, and BadJackson was silent. His eyes closed, and he drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, he woke up, looked at the clock on his nightstand, groaned, and closed his eyes again. He sat up, rubbed his eyes, and hopped out of bed. He stretched his arms out and gave in to a jaw stretching yawn, then rotated his arms, windmill fashion. The crinkling of the bandage made him remember the night before, and the realization hit him like a splash of cold water in the face.
His shoulder didn't hurt.
He fled to the bathroom, and in one brutal yank, pulled the adhesive bandage off his skin. It was whole and unmarked. He, Jackson Whitmore, had become a werewolf.
He showered quickly, resisting the urge to look at his reflection every five seconds to see if there were any changes. He felt great, his nervous system hummed like the finely tuned engine of his Porsche, but he had always felt that way. He wanted more than anything to try to force a change, but was unreasonably terrified that nothing would happen.
'But the bite…it's gone.' He thought to himself.
Was last night a dream? Were the past couple of months a dream? The blood-stained bandage said otherwise.
As much as he wanted to try, he just could not bring himself to do it. The old fear of failure sat around in his head like an annoying uncle at a holiday party too stupid to realize that he had worn out his welcome long ago.
Relax, relax, relax. It will happen when it happens.
He dressed, and went down to breakfast with his folks.
Jackson surprised his parents and himself by eating triple his usual intake of food. His mother was eying him, no doubt wondering about last night's painful looking hugs.
He rubbed his shoulder repeatedly before stretching it out a few times until she spoke.
"Is your shoulder okay, honey? It looked hurt last night."
"Pulled a trapezius muscle. It's mostly gone. I better take it easy at practice today."
She nodded, relieved.
He hugged them properly this time, then left for school.
He got out of his car, noticing he had parked next to the very same bike stand that Scott usually parked his ride in. Jackson had been an ass to him, but Scott just bugged the shit out of him. Still did.
On his way into the school, he heard a familiar voice sounding distressed.
"Give me back my books, creep! Who the hell are you anyway?"
"I'm the new kid, twerp. Now, I will ask you one more time. Where is Scott McCall?"
"I don't even know Scott McCall! He's a loser! Sucks at Lacrosse! Keeps to himself, has no friends!"
Jackson stood for a second, torn.
Derek's voice echoed quietly: "Nobody knows yet. Might be a good idea not to show off."
BadJackson piped in: "Let Stilinski take care of himself. He's used to beatings by now. He's not your friend anyway."
Derek again: "You don't care about anyone."
Dammit, what the hell should he do?
Cursing, Jackson threw his books in his car, and stalked around the building towards the sound of Stiles complaints.
There was a totally ripped and roided looking dude holding Stiles up against the wall. Stiles looked pale and terrified, and yet had still not given away Scott's whereabouts. Jackson's estimation of him went up a notch. He was an ass, but he did have guts.
The hulk suddenly noticed Jackson standing there.
"What do you want, Abercrombie? This isn't your business, so get gone."
Jackson's heart rate picked up as hot anger flooded his mind. With the exception of the werewolves, Jackson had never taken crap from any of the regular kids from school. HE was the one that usually handed out beatings.
"Look. You're new, so I'll give you a pass this time. I'm Jackson Whitmore, and I run this goddamn school. If anyone kicks the shit out of Stilinski, it will be me. So put him down, and go back to doing what you do best; making your parents wish they had invested in birth control."
The boy looked at him, smiling pretty nastily. Then he dropped Stiles in a heap, and walked over to Jackson.
"Say goodnight, Abercrombie." He pulled back a ham-sized fist.
Something huge suddenly leaped up the ladder of Jackson's subconscious, its claws scraping on the rungs. Holy shit, here it was. All the muscles in his body throbbed. His vision flared so that the smallest detail of everything around him was now painfully obvious. His hearing picked up the heartbeats of everyone present. Time seemed to slow down, and Jackson tasted sudden warm blood as his teeth erupted from his gums. Thank goodness he was wearing sunglasses, or the tell-tale glow in his eyes would have given him away.
Jackson caught the other boy's fist easily and stopped its force with an equal application of his own, not nearly exerting himself fully. He squeezed, and suddenly the boy was screaming as the bones in his hands snapped, breaking through the skin. Jackson yanked, and the boy was suddenly against the wall, the wounded hand pulled back and upwards.
"The next sound you hear will be your arm breaking." growled Jackson.
"Jackson! It's enough! Leave him alone!" This from Stiles, who looked confusingly enough still scared out of his wits.
Jackson looked at Stiles, and there was something in the smaller boy's face that made him listen.
The bully turned around and backed away quickly, giving Jackson and Stiles an evil look.
"Jackson Whitmore. I'll remember that name…and this." He held up his hand.
He ran off, and Jackson began to calm down. He waited until his vision had returned to normal, then took off the sunglasses and turned to Stiles.
"What the hell was that all about?"
Stiles shook his head. "Today, of all days, you come to my rescue. That jerk is Allison's cousin, Mark. Three guesses why he was looking for Scott."
Jackson ground his teeth. Another freaking Argent. He cursed the day that family had come here.
Stiles was watching him very closely.
"Jackson, there anything you want to tell me?" Stiles' eyes said he already knew, but Jackson was not ready to admit it just yet.
"Nah…not right now. That guy bothers you again, let me know. Where is Scott anyway? You two are always together holding hands and…" Whoops, BadJackson had slipped that in. Stiles got a hostile look on his face.
"As if I'd touch Allison Argent's sloppy seconds." He held his nose up in the air and stomped off. Jackson looked after him, then ran up and grabbed him.
"Stiles. I'm…sorry. I'm a jerk. I'm trying to work on it."
"You don't have to work on it, Jackson. You're perfect at it already."
"NO! I mean I am trying to be a better person." He shrugged. "Look, old habits die hard. I really am sorry…not just for this, but for everything. I don't expect you to accept my apology, I don't deserve it. I have no excuse, and was completely out of line with you all these years. You've helped me a lot recently, and I never thanked you for that either."
Stiles was speechless.
"Well, say something. Please."
"You know, Scott never really said 'thank you' to me, and he's my best friend. I accept your apology. And thank you for getting rid of that creep. I could have taken him myself, but I think he had kryptonite in his pocket, which of course drains away all my superpower…"
Jackson grinned, despite himself.
"Let's do lunch today. If Scott can let you out of his sight for two seconds." They looked around, noticing a distinct lack of Scott.
Stiles agreed, and Jackson went to his first class, just in time for the second bell.
Danny and the Lacrosse team were eyeing them incredulously during lunch, as the two shared jokes, told stories, and got to know each other better than they had in the last couple of years.
"So come over my house tomorrow and play the new Mortal Kombat with me. Even my dad plays, but he only likes Johnny Kage…" babbled Stiles.
"How about you come by me, I have all the systems, and my TV is like a whole wall." Jackson drank the rest of his bottled water, then noticed how quiet Stiles was.
"Jackson, you don't have to show off you know. I am aware your family is rich and all…"
Jackson was wide-eyed. Now he was insulting people without even realizing it.
"No, Stiles, I didn't mean it like that! Please believe me!" Jackson was desperate not to have this new camaraderie end so suddenly.
Stiles looked at him steadily. "Yeah, I guess you didn't. My bad. Maybe I'm still a little defensive too."
The relief was so visible on Jackson's face that Stiles had to laugh.
"It is going to take me some time to get used to the new you. And the other new you." he said significantly.
Jackson looked down. "You know?"
"Sunglasses don't cover up claws, Jackson."
Shit.
"Did Mark notice them?"
"While you were crushing his hand with your talon covered paw? Yeah I think that might have registered."
"Oh, man, Stiles. Derek is so going to kill me."
"DEREK turned you? I thought it was Peter Hale!" Stiles hissed in a pretty loud whisper.
"I asked him to. Begged him to, more like it. He didn't want to. But he told me to keep it under wraps, and I blow my cover the first day."
"Sucks to be you, man. You want me to come with when you explain it to him? You were saving my ass."
"You'd do that for me Stiles?"
"Of course! What are friends for?" he asked.
After lunch, Jackson found a private spot on one of the stairways and made a few phone calls until he tracked down his father, and asked him for a huge favor. His father was dubious, but then agreed and said he would take care of it.
He picked up Stiles after school, and the two of them drove over to Derek's place. He sat on the steps of the burnt out house, staring at nothing, finally looking up when they approached.
"Derek, don't be mad. I – uh" he began.
"You showed off." finished Derek. His voice was dead and lifeless. "Was it on the field? How many goals did you score?"
Jackson was speechless at this lack of faith, then realized that Derek had no reason to expect anything more from him.
Stiles spoke up, his voice angry.
"Actually, Mr. Badass, Jackson saved me from a hospital visit. This roided up hulk was going to punch my clock when Jackson took him down. Jackson is now officially…" he looked at Jackson. "my new best friend." Both Jackson and Derek were startled at this, and Derek, while he didn't smile, let some of the fire go out of his eyes.
"That's good Jackson. I'm glad to hear it."
Jackson was so relieved, he started to talk really fast, like Stiles did when he was upset.
"I mean, I heard them and I remembered what you said about being careful, but you also told me you have to help other people and I didn't know what to do-" Even Stiles looked impressed at this verbal runaway train.
Derek got up and flicked Jackson on the forehead with his finger.
"Don't think. Feel. Go with your gut."
Jackson nodded.
"There is one, uh, other little, erm…hiccup." Said Stiles quietly.
Derek tensed visibly.
"What."
"The guy that was beating up on me…the guy that Jackson took down…he was an Argent. And he was looking for Scott."
"So, Jackson. When you 'took him down', did you give yourself away?"
Jackson paled, and nodded quietly, again.
"Derek, I'm sorry-" he began
"Jackson, I said you did the right thing, and I meant it. You were a good friend to Stiles. It's just…there are consequences for our actions, even the good ones. A judge gives a murderer parole for good behavior, and he goes and kills again. There aren't rewards for what we do. Only punishments. This will come back and bite us…no pun intended."
Derek looked tired, and years older.
"Now, I have to leave my home. The County officials were just here and told me this place will be knocked down since it's a danger for the local kids."
Jackson laughed, and said "Nope, not gonna happen."
Derek looked at him. "What do you mean?"
"I called my dad. He is busy building this housing development on the other side of town. I explained the situation, and said that you had done so much for me, I wanted to pay you back. He is sending the crew over tomorrow, and they are going to rebuild your house. No charge. He can get the original plans, and you can throw in whatever modifications you want. They will handle the permits and everything. He says he even thinks he can write it off…um, I mean he would have done it anyway." Jackson blushed.
Derek was speechless.
"Jackson, you didn't have to do that, I still have money left over from my family-"
Jackson stepped up to him.
"The good of the pack, remember? My parents may not know it yet, but you're my family now too. Let me do this."
Derek's eyes held his for several minutes.
"Thank you. And I take back what I said. You were a good choice. I'm proud to have you with me.
Derek suddenly grabbed Jackson around the neck, and rubbed his knuckles fiercely into Jackson's head. Jackson screamed "Not the hair! NOT THE HAIR!" while Stiles collapsed laughing.
"Don't worry about the Argents. If they come after us, we will be ready." Derek said, after he released Jackson.
"What are you going to do about the Argents?" asked a new voice.
The three turned around and noticed Scott coming up the dirt road. He looked pissed, and his eyes were already a smoldering yellow.
Stiles shut up at once and got to his feet, looking and feeling guilty for some reason he could not express.
Derek and Jackson looked at him calmly.
"Allison has a cousin who gave Stiles a really hard time this morning. Jackson had to bail him out. He was looking for you. Where were you?" said Derek, an accusing tone in his voice.
"Allison and I decided to skip and spend the day together at the park. She did tell me he was staying with them now, but I have no idea why he would want me…oh." He looked suddenly sheepish, the yellow fading from his brown eyes.
"Allison disappears with the local werewolf, and you have no idea why he would want to look for you, huh?" said Derek scathingly.
Scott looked really uncomfortable. "Sorry guys, you know how it is. It's her family. Sorry Stiles, for not being there, and thanks Jackson for helping him out."
The three continued to stare at the young love-struck werewolf, who got the feeling more and more that the others wanted him to leave.
"Scott, I know you really care about Allison, but don't forget your friends need you too." Said Stiles.
"All right, all right. Stiles, come over my house tomorrow for dinner, we'll hang out."
Now Stiles looked uncomfortable.
"Um, I'm hanging with Jackson tomorrow. Some other time?" he said with a cheesy grin.
The yellow flared back in Scott's eyes. "I'm not there one time, and now Jackson's you're best friend? Who is he all of a sudden?"
"He's one of the Pack now, Scott." Said Derek quietly.
Scott's eyes widened in shock, the effect looking oddly comical as they were still smoldering.
"Fine. I guess you guys don't need me anymore. To hell with all of you."
He stalked off through the woods, completely phased into Beta state.
When he was out of earshot, Jackson turned to Derek. "Scott's a shitty werewolf, Derek." Jackson thought Stiles would come to Scott's defense, but the other boy remained quiet, lost in his thoughts.
"No, Scott is…your next challenge. Bring him back into the Pack. He won't survive alone. He's strong in many ways, but weak in others and seriously screwed up when it comes to Allison. He needs us. You need to make him know fear, Jackson. It's the only thing that will wake him up."
Jackson's jaw was on the floor. "You can't be serious! I can't bring him into the Pack! He hates me!"
Derek shook his head. "You already accomplished more today than I would have given you credit for. I am done underestimating you. You can do this, Jackson. Remember, don't think. Feel."
Jackson turned and took off through the trees in pursuit of Scott.
Derek smirked. "I didn't mean right this second, but this works too."
Stiles moved to stand next to Derek, and they gazed into the ominously quiet forest.
"You do realize they are totally going to try to rip each other to pieces."
Derek nodded. "That too, is what it means to be part of a Pack. I'm the Alpha, and now it's time for the cubs to establish the order of dominance."
Stiles was quiet. "I hope I'll still get to play Mortal Kombat on Jackson's TV tomorrow."
Stiles expected this comment to earn him (and he was not disappointed) one of Derek's patented Glares.
"You don't want to try to stop them? They are your friends."
"Stop them? Derek, the boys are fighting over me!" said Stiles jumping up and down, clapping his hands.
Derek groaned and put his face in his hands.
Jackson ran through the forest, suddenly reveling in the new sensations he was feeling. He was shifting into the Beta state, his enhanced vision outlining every important detail of the landscape in a fiery outline. His ears tracked Scott's movements; he was drawing closer with every passing second. Some instinct made him keep himself downwind from Scott, the better to follow his trail and keep Jackson from being spotted. Jackson could smell every animal that had passed through this part of the forest in the past few days. Had he wanted, he could have tracked them as easily as Scott. Saliva squirted into his mouth at the thought, and the idea of hunting for his food made his blood quicken with a fiery thrill. He shook his head. Some other time.
The speed he was traveling at defied mere human boundaries. He leapt over fallen tree trunks and boulders without thought. When the ground was more suitable for it, he dropped to all fours and traveled even faster, his hands clawing at the earth to propel himself along. He heard himself snarling and growling as he reached his prey. The wolf in Jackson knew what was about to come, and was preparing for the inevitable battle.
Scott had indeed heard the pursuit, and stopped, turning to face him. He was fully shifted, and pushed beyond the bounds of mere rage.
Jackson was fully shifted now too, cautioning himself that while Scott might have his head up his ass about Allison and the Argents, he had been a werewolf longer than Jackson. This might give him a lethal edge.
The young werewolves faced off, crouched low and snarling, circling each other slowly. They each waited for an opening, while at the same time trying to protect vulnerable spots. Scott lunged forward suddenly, the lethal claws swinging in an arc that could very well end up with Jackson's intestines cooling on the forest floor.
Jackson leapt at the last second, turning his body in midair so that he landed on his feet facing Scott's backside. Before Scott could whirl around, Jackson struck, and Scott suddenly had five deep gashes across his back that bled thickly.
Scott roared in rage, and suddenly slammed one arm backward, Jackson taking the blow full in the chest, his body flying backward and slamming into a tree. A split second later, and Scott was on him, and the younger boys teeth were tearing into Jackson's arm. Jackson threw Scott off of him, was on the other boy almost before his body hit the ground. Jackson caught one of Scott's flailing wrists in his jaws, and he crunched down, hearing the bones snap while Scott howled in pain. Scott brought up his other hand and raked his claws savagely across Jackson, slicing him from his stomach almost to his neck. Blood spurted from the wounds as Jackson lost consciousness and the blackness took him. The last thing he saw was Scott leaning over him, mouth wide, readying for the killing bite.
He awoke sometime later in Derek's house, on a small sleeping bag. A very pale Stiles, watched over him, gently cleaning the wounds with a damp cloth. Jackson wanted to check the condition of his body, but even the slightest movements made him want to scream with pain.
Scott was huddled in the far corner of the room, and from the sounds Jackson was hearing, Scott was having a nervous breakdown. He was rocking himself, crying uncontrollably, and letting out the occasional scream. He looked only slightly better than Jackson felt, the jagged gouges and bite-marks scoring his bare chest and arms. Derek was attempting to bandage the worst of these, but Scott was interfering with this due to the repetitive rocking. When the bandages came off, Derek would sigh and begin again.
"You okay bro?" Stiles asked Jackson quietly. "We thought we lost you there. Scott stopped himself at the last second, and carried you back. It was touch and go there for a while." Stiles looked over at Scott sadly. "He feels really guilty."
"He…he beat me? Th-that totally…sucks…shitty…werewolf…" gasped out Jackson.
"So, is being a werewolf everything you hoped for?" asked Stiles sarcastically.
Jackson never got the chance to respond. Scott had heard him speak and leapt up, causing all the bandages to fall to the floor. Derek threw his hands up in defeat.
"Jackson? Oh, man, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you like this. I could have killed you! I would never have forgiven myself. I am such a shit, you guys shouldn't let me hang around you, I'm a horrible horrible person. Jackson, please, I gotta hear you say you forgive me, or I'll…I'll start biting myself!"
Jackson laughed, then coughed painfully, wishing this werewolf healing would hurry up already.
"No problem, man. You got that one. Watch your back, next time…you won't be so lucky."
Scott looked relieved, then meekly went back to Derek and submitted to a proper bandaging.
The boys did their usual trick of calling their parents and saying they were spending the night at each other's houses, needing the peace and privacy of Derek's home to let their bodies heal. Scott slept upstairs on a sleeping bag with Stiles watching over him, while Derek leaned against a wall, looking steadily at Jackson.
"Derek…I failed. Scott…he beat me. Damn near killed me. Guess you were right the first time. I'm no good."
Derek shook his head, a real and rare smile staying on his face for almost two whole seconds.
"You still don't understand, do you? I didn't ask you to beat Scott. I asked you to bring him back to the Pack."
Derek looked up towards the room the other two boys occupied.
"I think Scott is done taking his friends for granted. Today, you put real fear back into that boy. Not fear of you…fear of being alone. It sounds cruel, but in the long run, it will save his life. We…are not a species that can survive individually. We need each other, we grow stronger the more of us there are. Which brings me to your next assignment."
Jackson groaned inwardly, as once again Derek's teeth seemed to flash at him from the darkness.
The next morning, both Jackson and Scott's injuries had knit almost completely, but they were still red and sore. It would most likely be another day or so before they were fully recovered. Mindful of Derek's warning about going through clothes, Jackson had prepared several suitcases of clothes to keep in the trunk of his car. He loaned some of them to a grateful Scott, who looked oddly out of place in the designer clothes. Jackson drove them to school, where the boys took quick showers in the gym before class. Now all three boys sat together at lunch, and received truly evil looks from the Lacrosse team. Jackson sighed and went over to have a word with them. After a few minutes he came back, and the team ignored them for the rest of the lunch hour.
"What did you tell them?" Asked Stiles in an awed whisper.
"That your dad is physically abusing you. And Scott, you're questioning your sexuality. They think it's great I'm helping you through these troubling times."
At the horrified looks on their faces, Jackson laughed and said "Just kidding. I said I was trying to get you guys to try out again. They would really like to have you back on the team."
Scott rubbed his hands on his face. "I have to get my grades up first."
Stiles nodded. "Yeah, and I have to get good at Lacrosse first."
Jackson waited for a minute, then started in on what had been on his mind since he left Derek's house that morning.
"Derek…wants me to do some quiet recruiting."
Scott and Stiles looked at each other.
"Huh?" they said at the same time.
"Derek wants to make more of us. He says we need a real Pack for what's coming. The Argents are gathering people too…more members of their family, and other Hunter families. They want to wipe us out for good. It could be a full on war. Great time we picked to be part of the team, huh?" said Jackson. They could tell from his expression, however, that he wouldn't change it if he could.
"Well, I didn't pick it. I was recruited by Peter Hale." Scott said sullenly.
"Would you really give it up? Take Allison and the Argents out of the equation, forget the Alpha and all the murders. One day, you wake up, and poof you're a werewolf. How would you feel about it?" asked Jackson. This was the one aspect of Scott he couldn't understand.
It seemed for a minute that Scott had no ability to "take Allison out of the equation", but then he said: "No. I wouldn't give it up. If I were alone. What does Derek expect you to do? Go up to random people and say, 'Hey, my friend's a werewolf and he wants to know if he can bite you? Just come out into the middle of a dark forest to a burned house so he can do it? You aren't going to get many volunteers, Jackson."
"I'd volunteer." Said Stiles.
They looked at him.
Stiles shrugged his shoulders. "What? Why should you guys get all the fun. I can get good at Lacrosse, maybe it would cure my ADHD, and I'd FINALLY have a shot at Allison!" Stiles pretended to hold an invisible girl in his arms.
"Oh, Allison, I love you, please marry me even though I need regular flea baths, and sometimes have accidents on the floor. I will bring you the newspaper every morning, and your slippers, and I promise not to bite the mailman, just because he said Hello to you. And after you become…one of us!...you will develop extra breasts to feed litter after litter of our beautiful cubs!"
Jackson was laughing so hard he fell off his chair. Scott was initially pissed, but then began to smirk and finally to chuckle despite himself. Stiles was a riot when he wanted to be.
"If I didn't know you were kidding…" he growled.
"Of course I am, Scotty darling! I really want Jackson; I want those lickable abs, those bulging biceps, and my…is that a Lacrosse stick you have in your pants? Oh, come here you precious baby! We will live in your big fancy house in the lap of luxury, and you will feed me Bonbons and draw me bubble baths and take me dancing at leather clubs where I lead you along on a leash! Then we can call Derek over and ply him with liquor until he submits to our every forbidden desire!"
Now both Scott and Jackson were laughing so hard they could barely breathe.
"Ahem."
The boys looked up to see Mark Argent standing there with a cast on his hand and looking grim. This time, he had two similar sized boys with him. Scott and Jackson stood side by side and faced them, calmly meeting their gazes with equal force. Stiles tried enter the staring contest too, but lost when his ADHD kicked in and his gaze wandered randomly around the room.
"I heard you were looking for me. Here I am. What do you want?" asked Scott.
Mark Argent moved to lean over in his usual intimidating fashion, but then decided against it.
"You vanished with my cousin. I get nervous when my relatives hang out with…'your kind'."
"What the hell do you mean 'your kind'" asked a new voice.
It was Danny, and the rest of the Lacrosse team who had now stood up and were glaring threateningly at the hulking trio. The two new boys got nervous and started to tug at their leader's sleeve.
"You really want to know?" asked Mark nastily.
"I already know. I'm one too. And you know what? All our friends here know it too, and they don't care. In fact, the only ones who have a problem with it, is you. So do yourself a favor and get lost before we show you what we can really do with these sticks."
As one, each boy smacked their Lacrosse stick into their palms with a single thlat! sound. The trio of Argents looked at all of the well-built athletic and weapon bearing boys in front of them, and then turned and left the room.
Danny came over. "Scott, let us know if those jerks give you any more problems. Be proud of what you are." The team left.
Scott whispered to Jackson: "Danny's a werewolf, and the team knows? When did that happen?"
"It didn't…I really told them you were struggling with your sexuality. Sorry, I was still smarting over the ass-kicking I got yesterday." Jackson grinned sheepishly, and then it was Stiles turn to have a hysterical fit on the floor.