Under Watchful Eyes

Navigating through the crowded stands was proving to be more frustrating than Jean had expected. It was halftime, and people were moving around in droves—fans heading to the concession stands, students chatting animatedly, parents stretching their legs before the game resumed. Yet, despite the sheer number of bodies shifting around her, Scott was nowhere to be found.

Her first instinct had been to check the usual places.

The bathrooms had been her first stop, loitering just outside the entrance for what felt like an eternity. She kept an eye on the line as a steady stream of people entered and exited, but Scott never appeared. He wasn't the type to linger unnecessarily, and there was no way he'd been stuck in there this long.

Next, she'd checked the food and drink stalls, scanning the crowd for his unmistakable figure. But even among the clusters of students and families waiting for their orders, he was still missing. She even considered that she might have missed him in the chaos—maybe he'd already returned to Warren and Bobby while she was out searching. A quick text to Warren had disproved that theory almost immediately.

Warren: Nah, he's not back yet. Did he ghost you or something?

Jean frowned at the response, tapping her foot in irritation. It wasn't like she and Scott had come to the game together, so technically, he wasn't obligated to tell her where he was going. But the fact that he had left without saying a word—without so much as a glance—bothered her.

More than it should have.

'Why am I even doing this?'

Scott Summers was still practically a stranger to her. She'd only known him for a short while, and their interactions had been…odd. He was distant, reserved, yet there was something about him that commanded respect. She'd picked up on that quickly—Warren and Hank respected him immensely, even Bobby, though he wouldn't outright admit it.

She respected him too.

Maybe not in the same way the boys did, but she couldn't ignore his dedication or relentless work ethic. It annoyed her that someone could be as driven as she was—maybe even more so. Then there was the fact that Scott had spoken about the Marauders and an assassin targeting him without even blinking.

No fear.

No hesitation.

Just a matter-of-fact statement.

That should have been reassuring, but it wasn't.

Because Scott was still a teenager, just like the rest of them. He wasn't some invincible force, no matter how skilled he was. Yet, he had thrown himself into these life-or-death battles without a second thought.

That's what concerned her the most.

She had never been in a real fight before, not one where lives were actually at stake. The thought terrified her. But that didn't mean she was just going to turn a blind eye and abandon someone who had.

That wasn't who she was.

So despite her fears, Jean kept looking.

But it was becoming clear that Scott didn't want to be found.

As the second half of the game was set to begin, her phone buzzed again. Taryn.

Taryn: Girl, where did you go? Don't tell me you left with Summers…

Taryn: Omg, are you guys dating?? 👀

Jean rolled her eyes so hard she nearly saw the back of her skull.

Dating?

Seriously?

She understood the teasing, but what about her behavior had made Taryn jump to that conclusion?

Sure, Scott intrigued her, but she barely knew him. She wasn't the type to fawn over a guy just because he was good-looking—which, admittedly, Scott was. He had that whole serious, brooding, mystery-man vibe going on, but that wasn't enough to make her swoon.

She didn't date based on appearances alone.

Jean: I'll be back soon.

Sliding her phone back into her pocket, Jean exhaled and turned toward the bleachers.

Something about them nagged at the back of her mind.

She wasn't sure why, but she had a feeling—an unshakable certainty—that she'd find him there.

For whatever reason, she wasn't leaving until she did.

-X-

Jean rounded the corner, her footsteps slowing as a quiet whisper in the back of her mind urged her forward. It wasn't a conscious thought, nor was it something she fully understood, but she felt like she was heading in the right direction.

She didn't question it—at least, not right now.

Then, just up ahead, she heard voices.

Not just any voices—Scott's voice.

Her eyes sharpened, body tensing slightly as she stepped forward, turning the corner completely to see Scott standing calmly in front of a group of football players. She instantly recognized one of them—Duncan Matthews.

Duncan stood slightly apart from the rest, his arm still bandaged from the injury he had sustained in a game. The other boys surrounding him were familiar, but not quite as notable—substitutes from Bayville's football team, guys who usually followed Duncan's lead.

As for Scott, he was standing between them and someone else.

Jean's gaze flickered to the figure Scott was shielding. A boy, roughly their age—maybe a little younger. He was thin, his hoodie pulled up, face tense with unease.

The scene made things click immediately. 'This is an ambush.' Jean watched as Duncan's eyes darkened, his lips pulling into a displeased frown.

"Get out of the way, Summers." His voice was sharp, layered with irritation and something that sounded almost condescending. "We're doing a good thing here."

Scott didn't move.

He just stood there calmly, confidently—completely unbothered.

Jean narrowed her eyes as Duncan took a half-step closer, trying to make himself appear more imposing. "We go to the same school, man." Duncan's tone shifted slightly, turning almost persuasive. "I don't wanna have to rough you up, but that little punk behind you? He needs to learn his lesson."

Jean frowned. 'A lesson?' Her curiosity sharpened as she moved forward, drawing closer to Scott's side. At the same time, she had to suppress a small smirk.

Duncan was threatening Scott?

Seriously?

Considering what she now knew about Scott Summers—the way he had survived encounters with trained mercenaries and actual super-powered enemies—it was almost comical that Duncan thought he could intimidate him.

Jean turned to Scott, watching him closely, and that's when she saw it. A brief, almost imperceptible flicker of amusement in his otherwise controlled features. Most people wouldn't have noticed it—Scott was always so composed, so hard to read. But Jean had been paying attention.

If Duncan or the others had caught onto that brief shift in Scott's expression, she imagined Duncan's already bruised ego—one that had been dented by Hank replacing him as Bayville's new star athlete—would have shattered completely.

Jean almost wanted to let things play out just to see Duncan's reaction.

But instead, she stepped in.

"What's going on here?" She asked, her tone curious but light.

All the boys turned toward her, and as expected, Duncan's entire stance shifted. She barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Duncan had always been obvious in his interest in her—he flirted when they interacted, tried to impress her, acted differently when she was around. He wanted her.

Because of that, his hostility instantly faded.

Duncan straightened, letting out a breath and flashing her a grin—one that was clearly meant to be charming. "We're just teaching this little thief a lesson," he said casually, jerking his thumb toward the boy behind Scott. "Caught him stealing wallets from spectators, figured we'd handle it."

Jean arched a brow, folding her arms across her chest. "Ah, I see. You guys are vigilantes now?" She tilted her head, her voice layered with dry amusement. "Handing out 'justice' in back alleys?"

Duncan's smile faltered just slightly. "That's not what I meant."

"Really? Because it kind of sounds like that's what you meant." Scott remained quiet, still standing protectively in front of the kid and Jean's attention flickered to him, studying his expression. Then, she asked him directly, "Why are you defending a thief?"

Duncan turned to Scott as well, eagerly jumping on the question. "Yeah, Summers. Why don't you tell us?" Duncan's voice dripped with smugness, as if thinking Scott had no good answer and that siding with him might score him some points with Jean.

Jean, meanwhile, rolled her eyes.

Then, Scott spoke, his voice calm, even, unwavering. "Because I intend to do the right and proper thing," he said simply. "Not take matters into my own hands and let the security guards handle this."

Jean turned her gaze back to him, and despite herself, a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She had thought he would try take this into his own hands as well, but had stepped up to prevent Duncan and his friends from doing the same. After all, it was vastly different having a one-on-one fight than having numerous guys gang up on someone.

Duncan, however, wasn't as amused.

Jean didn't need to look at him to imagine the irritation in his expression. She knew exactly how he looked—jaw tightening, ego bruised, frustration simmering.

Scott was unfazed.

Jean liked that.

Before the situation could escalate further, a new voice cut through the tension. "What's happening here?" The sound of sharp, clipped heels against pavement reached Jean's ears, and she turned to see a familiar figure approaching.

Natalie Russell—Bayville High's newest substitute teacher.

The shift was immediate.

Jean, who had been watching Scott closely, instantly noticed when his expression changed. The flicker of amusement—the brief, subtle glimpse of something almost playful that had been there just moments ago—was gone.

Instead, what replaced it was something colder, sharper—controlled. Scott's posture, already confident, straightened slightly, his shoulders squaring, his body language shifting into something more composed, more guarded.

He wasn't intimidated.

But he was wary.

He was on edge

Jean followed his line of sight, turning toward Natalie Russell.

Natalie's sharp green eyes swept over the scene, taking everything in with quick, precise efficiency. She stood with her arms folded loosely across her chest, her presence effortlessly commanding as she awaited an explanation.

Scott spoke first. "I caught a thief stealing wallets," he said, his voice even and entirely neutral. Jean noted how smoothly he delivered the sentence, how carefully he phrased it. Scott wasn't lying—but he also wasn't telling the full truth.

Duncan stepped forward, his usual bravado returning now that an authority figure was involved. "Yeah, same here," he added quickly. "We saw this kid swiping wallets from the stands."

Natalie's gaze flickered toward Duncan and his group, then landed back on Scott. Jean had the distinct impression that Natalie was studying him just as closely as he was studying her. She didn't linger on him for long, though.

Instead, she turned toward the boy Scott had been shielding—the supposed thief. He looked uneasy, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Scott remained where he was, positioned just slightly in front of the kid, like a silent barrier.

Natalie glanced back at Duncan and his group. "What exactly did you intend to do by crowding around like this?" She asked, her tone calm but probing.

Jean caught the subtle tension in Duncan's shoulders, the way his stance shifted slightly. For a second, it almost seemed like he wanted to blurt out something defensive—something that would justify their actions and paint them as righteous.

But instead, he hesitated.

Jean quickly realized why.

Pointing fingers, blaming Scott directly—saying outright that they had planned to rough the kid up? That would not look good. Not in front of a teacher. Duncan, for all his pride and arrogance, wasn't stupid.

The pause was brief.

Then, Duncan did the next best thing. "We were gonna hand him over to security," he said smoothly.

The rest of his group nodded along in agreement, like a well-trained chorus.

Jean felt Scott's exhale more than she heard it.

Not frustration.

Not irritation.

Just acceptance.

Like he had known exactly how this would play out.

Natalie studied them all for a long moment, her eyes lingering on Scott again.

Jean knew that look.

Suspicion. Interest. Calculation.

After a pause, she gave a small nod. "Well, thank you for stopping a thief," she said, her voice smooth and professional. Duncan grinned, clearly pleased with himself, however, Natalie continued before he could gloat. "But I'll handle things from here while you guys return to the stands," she finished, her gaze landing on Duncan and his friends with a silent expectation.

Duncan blinked. "…Right now?"

"Yes. Now."

Jean bit back a smirk.

Scott remained perfectly impassive.

Duncan's mouth pressed into a thin line, but after a second, he exhaled sharply through his nose. "Yeah, alright," he muttered, jerking his chin toward his friends. "C'mon, let's go." The group reluctantly backed away, peeling off toward the stands with the occasional glance over their shoulders.

Duncan, however, paused, throwing one last look at Jean. "You should come back too, Jean," he said, voice lower, smoother—almost hopeful. "Game's starting up again."

Jean smiled politely. "I'll be there in a bit."

Duncan hesitated before nodding, stepping away to follow the others.

The second he was out of earshot, Jean let out a small exhale, turning toward Scott.

He was still standing there, watching Natalie.

Natalie, in turn, was watching him.

Jean couldn't tell exactly what either of them were thinking.