Jesse shoves Stiles in the shoulder, hard. “She’s already put you under her spell. Figures. It’s not like the little slut can get laid without lying.” His dark gaze flicks over to Summer, behind Stiles. “Quit stalking me, bitch. I’m immune to you, and I know how to deal with your kind now.”
She opens her mouth to reply, and stops short at Jesse’s final words. She isn’t sure what he means, but the vitriol behind it implies bad things. “You loved me once,” she whispers, instead, “I know you did.”
“You forced me to,” he spits back, trying to push Stiles out of the way to get to her. “You made me until I figured out how to escape.”
“I didn’t! I wouldn’t.” She wants to cry. Why does this have to happen now, at a time when she most wants to make a good impression, a new friend? She’d no idea Jesse hated her so much now.
“Oh my God, are you serious right now, are you listening to yourself? Are you compensating—you must be compensating, that huge ego has got to be making up for a tiny dick because you’re doing a great job at making the rest of you into an enormous dick, really? Under her spell? Really? The only reason somebody could possibly go midnight bowling is to stalk you?” Stiles sneers at Jesse, still clearly unimpressed. When his shoulder is shoved, he doesn’t even roll it, instead holding his body tense and unyielding against the contact. “Whoa, whoa, no, don’t look at her, asshole, I’m talking to you.”
And that’s when Jesse tries to actually physically move Stiles. The freckly high schooler moves with a sudden burst of grace that couldn’t have been predicted in a hundred years as being something he was capable of, given how jittery he’s been in the past. He sidles to the side, capturing Jesse’s wrist as it goes by, and then reaches behind the other boy to clamp his long, sturdy fingers against the back of Jesse’s neck. He twists the arm downwards, pivots around his hip until he’s behind Jesse, using one foot to tangle up the feet of his opponent until, quite suddenly, the other guy is face-down against the counter of the bowling alley, Stiles standing behind him with the muscles of his arms tense as he maintains pressure on Jesse’s wrist and neck. “This is a pain compliance hold. It won’t hurt you as long as you settle down and are a good boy. The more you struggle the more it’s gonna hurt like a bitch, so, you know, your decision whether this is easier or harder. Got it? Good, good.”
There’s a little flash over his face like he doesn’t quite know what he’s doing, but luckily Jesse’s own face is turned away and he can’t see it. Stiles steels himself before he starts speaking again. “Now here’s the deal, buddy. That? That right there, that you were doing? Especially the touching me and trying to get past me to get to her? That’s assault. Like legal assault. Actually, all you had to do is threaten her and it’s legal assault, the touching part is technically battery. At best, assault and battery is a misdemeanor, but at worst, that’s a felony, my friend, do you know what a felony is? That’s the kind of crime they can put you away for years over. The more you know, right? Speaking of knowing, you might be wondering how I know any of this. Funny thing, as it turns out my Dad’s the Sheriff here. Me and my Dad are pretty close. If I called him down here because I told him there was some prime douchebag assaulting me and my friend, he’d be here so fast your head’d spin right out of where it’s clearly firmly lodged in your ass. Now me, I just came to bowl. I don’t want trouble. But if you keep on being a dickbag, I will make trouble, capiche?”
“Damn.” The impressed voice belongs to Zenobia. “I guess you don’t need my help after all.” She watches for a moment, then tosses her cornrows back over one shoulder and moves off toward the refreshment stall.
Summer just watches Jesse struggle, amazed at how fast the situation has turned around. And the other boy does struggle, but Stiles has him firmly in hand, and she can feel the flares of pain every time either one of them moves. Finally, after what seems like long tense minutes, but is probably more like seconds, Jesse nods and makes a strangled sound of assent. It’s clearly grudging, but there’s not much else he /can/ do.
Stiles turns him loose, and Jesse doesn’t bother to try to say /anything/ else, just slinks back to his friends, who respond with shoulder slaps and mocking. Summer closes her mouth, blinks at Stiles a couple times, and says, solemnly, “I am never questioning Helios’ judgement again. Can I keep you?”