He put on his best "You want to run laps until your legs fall off?" expression, and tried like hell not to show any signs of embarrasmen tor weakness. Jason knew these kids, and they were good kids, but they were also sixteen to eighteen year old guys confronted with a man who'd suddenly sprouted wings, in a town where most strange occurences were the cause of (or were greeted by) large amounts of violence.
This situation, Jason feared, could easily, easily spiral out of control if he let it. Especially because of the antennae and the glitter that kept trailing after him, but Jason really wasn't going to dwell on these things.
He just stalked into the locker room and sarted reading from his play book, looking only when the shocked silence gave way to nervous laughter.
"Something funny here, Dwight?" he asked the hulking halfback, snickering on the bench.
"Nice outfit, Coach," Dwight said, and Jason was more than half way tempted to see if the damned wand stuffed in his back pocket could actually turn people into toads.
"Glad you think so, Dwight. Hope you're ready to put your jersey back on." Jason glared, snapping the playbook shut. "Because you're going back out to that field and running suicides until I tell you to stop."
"But --" the kid sputtered.
Jason raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. Behind him, his wings fluttered a little, ruffling with irritation and when two of the other boys started chuckling, Jason pointed at them. "You too."
Dwight opened his mouth to protest, but Jason cut him off. "Do not make me say it again, or you'll be here until the game, do you hear me?"
Sullenly, the boys went, and Jason finished the meeting. The other players were too smart to comment, even when light came out of his finger tips as he tried to demonstrate the proper grip for a pass.
Jason escaped back to his office and collapsed behind his desk. His wings came around to block the light, and when he covered his face with his hands, glitter showered down from them onto the floor.
"Maintenance is going to kill me," he muttered, head snapping up as a knock sounded on his office door.
If it was Lana, Jason was going to fly out the window -- dignity be damned.
"Come in," he called, willing his voice to sound steady, normal.
"Uh, hey, Coach Teague," Clark Kent said shyly, ducking into the office. He stared down at his feet for a few seconds, shuffling them on the linoleum, until finally Jason just coudln't take it anymore.
"Well?" he prompted.
"I was just --," Clark broke off, and scratched the back of his neck. He took a deep breath and looked up, meeting Jason's' eyes squarely before blurting. "You're a fairy, right?"
Jason pulled out his wand, and waved it in the air. There was a popping sound, and suddenly there were roses growing out of the lamp.
"Yeah," he said tiredly to Clark. "I guess I am."
"Oh, okay," Clark said, nodding in a very satisfied manner as he turned around to leave. "Just checking."
Smallville was so weird.