Reborn in Teen Wolf As An Original Hybrid

Scott and Stiles walked down the hall, the events of the confrontation with Jackson still lingering in the air, the tension between them thick like a fog. Scott kept his eyes on the floor, his hands stuffed in his pockets as they made their way toward the classroom. He felt the residual adrenaline in his veins, but his mind kept circling back to the strange feeling he had when Stiles took down Jackson.

Stiles, on the other hand, was practically bouncing with energy, his hands animated as he talked about the fight, replaying it in exaggerated detail for anyone who would listen. He seemed unfazed, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. His usual smile was wide, a bit cocky, but there was something else in his eyes—something that hinted at satisfaction, but also something deeper, a feeling he couldn't quite put into words.

As they entered the classroom, Stiles took his usual seat beside Scott, who found his gaze immediately drawn to Allison, seated just a few rows ahead of him. She was talking to Lynn, a girl in one of Lydia's many circles, her expression calm, but Scott could see the faint crease in her brow as she spoke—an underlying concern that only those who knew her well would notice. He shifted in his seat, trying not to stare, but his thoughts were tangled around the image of her, the soft curve of her neck, the way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Hey," Stiles whispered to him, leaning in close with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You gonna stare at her all period, or are you gonna talk to her at some point?"

Scott's face flushed, and he quickly turned his head, attempting to brush it off. "Shut up, Stiles," he muttered, though there was a soft smile tugging at his lips.

But before Stiles could retort, the door to the classroom slammed open with a force that made everyone jump. Lydia Martin strode in, her fiery red hair practically glowing in the sunlight streaming through the windows. Her eyes scanned the room, sharp and calculating, before settling on Scott and Stiles.

Without so much as a greeting, she crossed the room with purpose, her heels clicking against the floor with a rhythmic precision that matched the intensity in her gaze. When she reached them, she stood in front of Scott and Stiles, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

"You," she began, her tone sharp and demanding, a layer of cool detachment laced through her words, "what happened out there in the hall?"

Her eyes were piercing, staring directly at Stiles, then flicking to Scott with a questioning look, her lips pressed together in a tight line. There was no room for evasion in her voice, no trace of hesitation. Lydia wasn't someone who asked questions she didn't already have an answer to.

Scott shifted in his seat, his eyes darting between Lydia and Stiles. He could feel the weight of her gaze, the pressure to answer, but his thoughts were still a little clouded. He wasn't sure how much of the truth they should reveal—not yet, at least.

Stiles, however, was already leaning back in his chair, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he regarded Lydia. His expression was casual, almost nonchalant, but there was a flicker of something else beneath the surface—a mix of amusement and something harder to place. He wasn't backing down.

"You mean about Jackson getting his teeth knocked out?" Stiles said, his voice smooth, but carrying an edge. "Well, I suppose you could say he had a... run-in with reality." He leaned forward slightly, his eyes gleaming with a quiet confidence that was at odds with his usual playful tone.

Lydia's gaze didn't shift from Stiles, though the faintest raise of her eyebrow suggested she was intrigued—she didn't show it outright, but it was there, a flicker of interest that she quickly masked with her usual coolness. Her eyes narrowed as she processed his words, but she didn't speak immediately.

Scott shifted again, this time glancing at Allison, who was watching the interaction from a distance, her face unreadable. He could see the faint line of worry on her forehead, but her eyes never left Lydia and Stiles. She wasn't one to be easily intimidated, but something about the way Lydia carried herself seemed to make everyone pause.

"You're not gonna tell me anything, are you?" Lydia's voice cut through the silence, the words almost like a challenge. She stepped forward, leaning in slightly as if trying to read their expressions for any hint of a lie.

Stiles' lips curled into a slight smile, and he leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the moment. "Maybe we're just trying to teach you a lesson in not being so nosy," he said, his tone playful but with an underlying sharpness that made it clear he wasn't intimidated by her presence.

Lydia's eyes flickered with something unreadable, but her lips quirked up in a barely perceptible smirk, acknowledging the game they were playing. She wasn't so easily dismissed, and yet, she wasn't pressing further—at least not yet. The brief pause that followed was heavy with unsaid words, an almost electric charge between them.

Stiles tilted his head slightly, his gaze still steady on Lydia, but now there was a soft shift in his demeanor, a deeper understanding in his eyes. "But, if you really want to know," he said, his voice lowering just a touch, "we can talk about it after class." His words hung in the air, a silent invitation—or perhaps, a silent warning.

Lydia didn't respond right away. Her eyes lingered on Stiles for a moment longer before she straightened up, her posture returning to its usual commanding presence. She didn't smile, but there was a subtle shift in her gaze, as if she'd just learned something new. Something she hadn't expected.

With a final glance at both of them, Lydia turned on her heel and walked back to her seat, leaving behind a palpable tension that filled the room, making everyone shift slightly in their seats.

Scott looked at Stiles, eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and awe. "What was that?" he whispered under his breath.

Stiles just shrugged, his grin returning, though it was tinged with something a little more dangerous. "Guess we'll find out soon enough."