cr: teenwolves-ahead

"McCall!" as you head Jackson's shout, you whirled around immediately, making Lydia continue her rant to the back of your head.

"Lyds, I totally get it and I agree. It's completely sexist and degrading. However the last thing I want is for Scott to be severely beaten, so we can continue this in front of the principal?" you offered, making her huff, but she nodded anyway, understanding. Jackson was not an easy person to date.

Not in public anyway.

"Babe, come on," you grabbed onto Jackson's hand as you reached them tugging him closer to you. "Hey Scott," you smiled, but Jackson only gripped at your hand before he tried to take a few deep breaths, your presence enough for that.

"I swear if you ever-"

"Ever feel like catching up on that chemistry, let me know, I have great notes," you smiled over to the boy not clutching your hand, "See you later!" you grinned before you tugged at Jackson who shot Scott another glare, but you pulled him into your side and he let his eyes stick to yours.

"Why do you always have to do that?" he asked softly as you pulled him around school, out of everyone's field of vision.

"Hmm, well because there's gotta be someone who'll make me the best french toasts, right?" you smirked before he smiled too and your hands wound up to the back of his head, pulling him close, your lips slotting together perfectly, moving with elegance and grace which was always what you loved about kissing him. The stark difference between the shouts and the puffs that leave his lips, to the soft movement of them the moment the connect with any part of you.

With a hand on his chest, you pushed him away slowly and subtly until he had to crane his neck to reach your lips. He stared at you through glazed over eyes while you smiled at the feeling of his heart hammering against his ribcage, the feel of your hand speeding up his breaths. With a shared smile, you went your way, his arm around your waist as you walked into the building and to the locker room so the he could change for lacrosse and you could watch.

You'd gone the way he expected you to, but by the time he'd jogged outside, you were nowhere to be seen. While it worried him, he knew he'd have to keep focused and he didn't look for you, but it was a thought pressing in the back of his mind, his shots landing beside Danny and on the grass rather than in the net.

When he did spot you sitting up in the bleachers, he saw your smile which didn't reach your eyes, the sparkle not present while you waved to him and he sighed before nodding and turning back to the game. His shots landed more frequently, but he was still distracted, and Finstock saw, making him sit on the bench, just as he wanted.

He climbed the stairs, leaving his stick on the bench before he sat beside you. "What's wrong?" he asked, making your smile falter a little.

"Nothing. Everything's fine," you replied, making him roll his eyes.

"We know I can see right through you, so there's no point in you trying to hide," he told you, making you sigh and shrug your shoulders. "Come on," he nudged you gently, but the two of you were pulled out of your little bubble as you heard cheering from below, the whole lacrosse team taking the piss out of Jackson and yourself, making him stand up, say a quick 'excuse me' to you and then rush down the stairs to threaten to kill all of them. You smiled honestly this time, shaking your head as he glanced back, smiling at the sight of your amusement.

But he didn't let you off the hook. Sitting in his Porsche as you made your way to Lydia's house for a pack night full of movies and junk food, the car was silent, the engine the only sound, but nothing from either of you. He knew you were not okay, but he also knew that you'd talk when you'd want to. That was not in that moment.

Pulling up to the all too well known driveway, Jackson pulled out the keys, stopping the radio's playlist of 00's hits and neither of you made a move to get out.

"You know I just want you safe," Jackson told you as you glanced over and nodded.

"I know. It's nothing bad, we just had to talk to the principal. Dress code and this douche being sexist and completely out of order.

It just messed me up, is all. He was just- ugh," you groaned and let out a sigh at the relief of having told him. As you stared ahead, you realised that there was the soft sound of chuckling in the car, your head turning to look at Jackson beside you.

"You could have told me," he said as you smiled and rolled your eyes. He had leaned over to place his lips on yours as you chuckled into the kiss, your hand slowly sliding up into his hair to pull him closer.

Since this was Jackson, he let out a small groan before he clicked your seatbelt off and slid back his seat, letting you get on his lap as you giggled at his dazed face. With his hands slipping under your shirt and yours still tugging at his hair, the windows started to fog up, giving away your position to anyone who was curious enough to glance in. The heavy make out session was interrupted by a harsh knock on the window as Jackson let out a disappointed groan and squeezed at your waist playfully as you giggled and pulled away, pushing the door open to step out in front of Scott.

"You guys took your time," he teased as you rolled your eyes and slapped his arm for that smirk he had on his face. "Come on Whittemore, we're only waiting for you," Scott added as you tucked your shirt back in and let Jackson climb out and lock the Porsche behind him.

"Come on McCall, what are you doing, wasting my time?" he snapped as you bit your lip and combed your fingers through your hair, reaching over to take off the spot of lipstick by his mouth as he smirked and pecked your lips again before you went inside.

Thanks to Scott, they boys had made fun of you for the rest of the night, laughing about how Jackson was soft and whipped, but at the end of the night, when you lay in his arms, legs entangled in the sheets together, all that mattered was the two of you and nothing else.