Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/575148.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      Gen, M/M, F/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Peter_Hale/Isaac_Lahey, Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski, Vernon_Boyd/Erica
      Reyes
  Character:
      Isaac_Lahey, Peter_Hale, Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski, Scott_McCall,
      Vernon_Boyd, Erica_Reyes, Danny_Mahealani, Deucalion_(Teen_Wolf), Lydia
      Martin, Allison_Argent, Kali_(Teen_Wolf), Ennis_(Teen_Wolf)
  Additional Tags:
      Past_Abuse, Derek_Hale_is_Bad_at_Feelings, Protective_Scott, Protective
      Derek, Isaac_Feels, Claustrophobia, Panic_Attacks, Creeper_Peter, Sloppy
      Makeouts, Masturbation, Phone_Sex, Sassy_Peter, Angry_Stiles, Alive
      Vernon_Boyd_&_Erica_Reyes, Alternate_Universe_-_Canon_Divergence,
      Deviates_From_Canon, After_Season_2/Before_Season_3, Awesome_Erica, Oral
      Sex, Blow_Jobs, First_Time_Blow_Jobs, Hand_Jobs, Biting, Scratching,
      Banshee_Lydia_Martin, More_Danny, Character_Death
  Series:
      Part 1 of Continuing_Works_In_Varying_States_of_Progress
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-11-27 Completed: 2015-10-14 Chapters: 22/22 Words: 59852
****** Works In Progress ******
by kaiface
Summary
     “Are we making a mistake?”
     “Probably."
      “Am I going to regret this?”
     “Definitely.”
      
     In which Isaac struggles with his attraction to older men who also
     happen to be sociopaths, Peter is a Grade-A Creep, Derek is bad at
     feelings, and everyone is concerned about Isaac's life choices.
Notes
     Title is Works In Progress because of this_quote.
     So this monster is complete! I hope everyone has enjoyed the ride as
     much as I have. If you're visiting for the first time, welcome, and
     thank you!
     This is a slow-build on the main pairing with a little bit of side
     story, but the main reason I started this was to fuel the fire of my
     favorite rarepair. Archive warnings don't apply until later on in the
     story. The story starts shortly after the finish of Season 2 and
     carries on through Season 3 Part 1, with some alterations to the
     story and timeline, so hopefully that doesn't bother anyone.
     Works In Progress is now being translated into French by
     lovePEOPLEandCOWBOY, here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11439372/1/
     Works-In-Progress
***** Foundation *****
Chapter Notes
     Listen to the full playlist for this story here:
     Works_In_Progress from Kairros on 8tracks_Radio.
Life after the Kanima takes some getting used to.
It's been a month already, and Isaac is convinced by now that he'll never
really be used to it. Without Erica and Boyd around, things are...quiet, or
quieter than they had been. And with Derek's uncle around, things are even more
tense than before.
To his credit, Peter seems to keep to himself. For the first few weeks while
he's still regaining his strength after his resurrection, he stays mostly in
his room. He comes down for food, or to peruse the bookshelf, or to give Derek
pointers on the reconstruction of their house. Isaac finds it odd, and a little
funny, that the man doesn't offer to help. Then again, he's not sure if Derek
would even let him if he wanted; the first and only time Isaac asked to help,
Derek yelled at him so loudly it made the newly installed window panes rattle.
Later that day, when Isaac is sitting on the porch working on a project for
school, Peter exits the house through the front door, keys to the Camaro
jingling in his hand.
“Don't mind him, he just feels some twisted sense of honor is driving him to
rebuild the family home he helped destroy,” is the explanation he gets in
passing, and Peter is already down by the car by the time Isaac connects his
voice to his thoughts.
“Where are you going?” out of all of the questions he could have asked, it was
the first thing he could manage. Peter leans on the roof of the car, looking
across the leaf-covered yard at Isaac. Pondering.
“Into town. Derek needs some things for the construction and I have a sneaking
suspicion that we could use a few more grocery items,” Peter's voice sounds
teasing and playful, and it sort of makes Isaac want to punch the other Beta,
but he settles for a small frown instead. Peter jingles the keys one more time.
“Want to come?”
“I've got this project I need to finish...” the words are barely out of Isaac's
mouth before Peter is in the car and peeling out of the reserve. Isaac wonders,
briefly, if he made the older man angry. Then he realizes that he doesn't
actually care, and goes back to his schoolwork.
Isaac gets about a half-hour of work in before his concentration is broken
again, this time by the sounds of Derek's frustration somewhere within the
house. The sound of wood splintering and tools being thrown startles him out of
his comfort zone, and he quickly packs his school bag up and heads for the
woods. He walks the road through the preserve until he can't hear Derek's
elevated heartbeat anymore, or the Alpha's angered, labored breathing. He
doesn't let himself focus on any one thought, just walks and walks and walks.
He spots a nice, quiet-looking clearing off the road a bit and thinks maybe
he'll stop, sit, listen to the sounds of the woods and finish his work when the
Camaro pulls up next to him and Isaac feels himself nearly jump out of his
skin. He's instantly ashamed as Peter rolls down the window, face painted in
utter amusement. He notices without really paying attention that it's a lot
darker than it was when he left the porch of the ruined house.
“Need a ride?” From anyone else, the way the question was posed would have been
humorous, but to Isaac, it sounds wrong coming from Peter.
“Uh, no, it's okay, I'm just...” he stops, fishing for an excuse, any reason to
avoid getting in the car with Derek's creepy, murderer uncle. He can't come up
with a good one. Peter's eyes roll, and Isaac hears the mechanism click as the
he hits the auto-unlock on the door.
“Get in the car, pup,” the older Hale's voice grates on Isaac's nerves, that's
for sure, and the teen bristles as he rounds the front of the car, getting in
the passenger seat and closing the door harder than necessary.
“Don't call me that,” he grumbles, and Peter huffs quietly, rolling the windows
back up as he starts along the wooded road at a relatively human speed. Isaac
instantly begins fiddling with the radio presets, not surprised that Derek's
preset stations are mostly classic rock and alternative. He punches the off
button with a dissatisfied exhale of breath, ignores the amusement radiating
off of the man driving, and the side-long glances that accompany it.
“Afraid of the silence?” Peter taunts after thirty seconds of car engine, wind
whipping, gravel and leaves crunching, and Isaac thinks he might pull his hair
out. He grumbles, doesn't want to admit that he's still not used to hearing
everything, which he does, and sometimes that's too much for him, a little too
existential or something; doesn't want to admit that just sitting and listening
has sent him into panic attacks before.
The older man must hear something in Isaac's reluctance to answer; he grabs an
iPod sitting in the cup holder, which is linked to the stereo by a thin cord,
and passes it over to the teen. Isaac cradles it in his hands awkwardly for a
second, looking between the device and Peter. He starts to ask, “Is this-”
“Mine? It definitely isn't Derek's.” That's all the response he gets, and
really all he needs, before Isaac is investigating the music on the device. He
restarts the last song that the man had been listening to and is mildly
surprised when a remix of a mildly popular song comes pumping through the
speakers. He must have laughed, because Peter's fingers are wrapping around the
device, pulling it out of his hands faster than he can protest.
“Privileges revoked.” The song stops playing and the iPod is back in the cup
holder as soon as he blinks.
“Wait, sorry, I just wasn't expecting...” Isaac stops, frowning, and leans
forward to press play on the device again. The music begins pumping through the
car's speakers again and Isaac closes his eyes, letting himself get absorbed in
it.
They reach the house less than a minute later, he can tell before the car even
stops because the smell of charred wood is strong enough to his wolf-enhanced
sense of smell that he can smell it even through the interior of the car.
He feels the engine shut down, but the music keeps playing, and he can feel
Peter watching him for a few seconds before he opens his eyes.
“Sorry,” he mutters, reaching for the door handle, but stops when Peter scoffs.
“You apologize too much. Teenagers are supposed to be completely apathetic and
unapologetic,” he tells Isaac as he gets out of the car, pops the trunk, pulls
out bag after bag of groceries and hardware. Isaac finally gets out of the
passenger seat, schoolbag slung over one shoulder as he accepts the bags being
handed to him.
“Sorry, it's-” he stops and laughs once, embarrassed. He notices Peter is still
listening, head turned just-so in his direction, attention on him, so he
finishes, “It's reflex.”
The older Hale shuts the trunk of the car, and the quiet slam of it seems to
reverberate through Isaac's ribs. Turning his attention to the teen fully, his
mouth quirks in something resembling both a smirk and a smile.
“It doesn't suit you.”
***** Trust *****
Chapter Notes
     I'm so surprised at the amount of support this is getting already.
     You guys are awesome, thanks so much!
     Here's chapter two, before I'm off to work. I don't really have
     anything else to add here, so enjoy!
Isaac follows Peter into the house at a distance, trying to wrap his head
around...well, the whole day has been kind of off, now that he thinks about it.
He sets the bags of groceries down onto the folding card table that serves as
their dining room table and watches Peter file packages away into the small
refrigerator and temporary storage cabinets; the kitchen is next on the
renovation list, after the bedrooms. He considers asking the man if he needs
help with anything, but decides against, it, turning away and heading back to
the living room, where he tosses his schoolbag onto the couch and follows suit,
throwing his body down onto the soft, worn cushions.
He senses Derek about two seconds before the Alpha comes into the room, and
Isaac sits up, feeling the irritation practically rolling off of the man's body
in waves.
“Where is he?” Derek asks, and before Isaac really has time to consider this
question or the answer to it, Derek is already gone, and Isaac can hear their
low voices in the kitchen. He's only picking up parts of their conversation,
but he doesn't really want to hear, so he unzips his backpack as loudly as he
can, emptying it's contents onto the floor before picking up each textbook,
notebook, and loose-leaf assignment one at a time to drown out the sound of the
men talking.
And it's still not distracting enough.
He can hear irritation in Derek's voice, along with a mass of other things. All
he hears in Peter's tone is fake disinterest, fake innocence, fake, fake,
fake...
With a groan, Isaac pulls out his phone and dials the first number in his
recent calls, forces himself to focus on the ringing and not the family
argument happening in the next room. He jumps when the ringing stops and
Scott's voice answers, “Isaac? What's wrong?”
“Oh, uh, nothing's wrong,” he laughs, feeling a little guilty realizing that he
never really calls Scott without a reason. Pulling at drawstrings hanging from
his hoodie, he glances toward the kitchen, wondering if the other two can hear
him. He doesn't care. “I'm just...kind of having trouble with this chem
project, and I was wondering if you're not working at Deaton's tonight, if you
could maybe help me out with it?”
The other teen is silent on the other line for a second longer than Isaac is
comfortable with, before he hears Scott shifting uncomfortably, biting his lip.
“Uh, well, I was actually supposed to hang out with Stiles tonight...I kind of
promised, after I bailed on him the last five times...”
“Oh. Right, well, have fun then,” he stumbles over the words, giving his
unfinished assignment a short glance. “Tell Stiles I said hi.”
“Wait, Isaac-” Scott adds quickly, hoping to catch the other before he hangs
up. Isaac pauses, then sighs.
“Yeah?”
“Look, we're...we're going to be playing Black Ops 2 at my house tonight, if
you...wanna come hang out with us.” To his credit, Scott doesn't sound
unwelcoming, just unsure – unsure if Isaac is into that thing, or wants to hang
out with him and Stiles – but it makes Isaac smile just a little.
“Yeah, actually...that sounds great. I'll, uh, head over there now.” He's
trying to suppress his grin at this point, stuffing his homework back into his
backpack with little care.
“Awesome. See you in a bit, then.” This time he hears Scott's smile through his
voice, and knows for sure that he's not intruding on some exclusive Scott-and-
Stiles-only-ritual-no-outsiders-welcome thing.
He ends the call and places his phone back into his hoodie pouch as he stands
up, kicking his backpack to the side. He moves toward the front door
automatically, but pauses, remembering that even if he doesn't have an actual
family, he still has a pack, and they're close enough to the same thing. He
shuffles his way toward the kitchen, keeping his chin tucked toward his chest
and his eyes downcast as he reaches the doorway. Whatever argument Derek and
Peter were having is apparently over, Peter is nowhere to be found, and Derek
is sitting at the table, clenched fists resting on the surface.
“Uh,” Isaac starts, and Derek's gaze shifts toward him, brooding anger and deep
thought interrupted. “I'm going over to Scott's to hang out for a while, I
don't know...when I'll be back,” he mumbles, glancing toward the front door,
and Derek sighs, running a hand through his hair.
“Like we don't have more important things to worry about right now?” he frowns
and shakes his head, looking like he wants to retract his statement.
“Just...have a good time, or something.”
Isaac frowns, now more concerned for his Alpha than for his own stir-crazy
needs.
“Is, uh, is everything okay? With you and Peter, I mean.” As soon as the words
leave his mouth, Isaac knows he's struck a nerve of some kind. Derek's
expression shifts, and his fists clench and unclench a few times before he
stands, looking like he might want to hit something. Isaac reflexively takes a
few steps back, and Derek lowers his hands, looking instantly guilty.
“Sorry. It's nothing,” is all the response he gets at first, and then, “He just
keeps pushing me – I'm doing what I can to fix up the house, but there are so
many parts that are irreparable, and his smug attitude isn't helping.”
Derek sighs and sits back down in the folding chair he had previously occupied,
deflating slowly. Isaac slowly moves forward and pulls out a chair, seating
himself in it. The look his Alpha gives him is almost comical, full of
confusion and a hint of incredulity. Isaac folds his hands on top of the table
and looks at Derek, giving the older man his full attention. With a sigh and a
shake of his head, the Alpha groans and leans forward, resting his weight on
his elbows propped on the tabletop.
“He killed my sister. Even after everything, how am I supposed to trust him?”
“I don't know. That kind of trust, when it's broken...it can be hard to fix.
Impossible, even.” Isaac is looking at his own folded hands, remembering
bruises and blood and dried tears on cheeks. Derek glances up at the teen,
patiently listening. Isaac shakes his head, heaving out a long-held breath,
before looking at Derek again.
“I'm not saying you should trust him, because I don't know. I wasn't around for
the crazy Peter incident that everyone loves talking about,” he says seriously,
and Derek huffs a small laugh, rolling his eyes. “But he is your family. I
guess what I'm saying is, give him time to try to redeem himself, without
putting your faith in him blindly.”
Derek is giving Isaac a long, hard look, studying his expression. Finally, the
older man sighs, twitching a hand toward the teen.
“Go see Scott,” he grumbles, only slightly perturbed that a member of his pack
is going to visit someone who refuses to join it. Isaac flashes the Alpha one
last, shy smile before he's out the door and down to all-fours, running through
the woods of the preserve.
***** Promise *****
Chapter Notes
     Since I'm a good portion of the way done with chapter four, here's
     chapter three.
     I think I enjoy writing this story waaaay too much for my own good.
     Thanks again to everyone for your support on this! You guys are so
     great! I love reading your comments. ;u; ♥
Isaac is standing on the front stoop of Scott's house, hands stuffed deep into
his pockets, when the other teen opens the door. With a flash of a smile, Scott
opens the door wider and steps aside.
“Hey man, come on in. Stiles isn't here yet, guess he had to stop for
something,” Isaac listens to the vague explanation as he enters the house,
glancing around. He hasn't really been in Scott's house before, and the whole
thing seems very warm and welcoming. It's got an air that just says 'this is
our home' and it makes Isaac feel odd; he hasn't had that feeling in a long
time.
Scott is closing the door and Isaac is turning around to face him when a
familiar Jeep comes screeching to a halt in the street in front of Scott's
house. It parks where it stops, and Stiles nearly tumbles out of the drivers'
seat, one arm cradling a twenty-four pack of soda, and the other carrying two
filled-to-burst shopping bags of snacks. He sprints to the front door,
grinning, but slows when he sees Isaac standing in the entry way next to his
best friend. The smile falters.
“Uh, Scott? I don't mean to alarm you, but there seems to be something furry
and distinctly wolfish in here. Other than you.”
Scott pulls him in by his sleeve, shutting the door behind him. “Yeah, uh, I
figured it would be cool if Isaac came to hang out with us tonight.”
Isaac watches Stiles expectantly, waiting for the anger, the indignation, the
rejection. He watches Stiles look him up and down quickly before he shrugs and
pushes his way past both Scott and Isaac into the living room. “Yeah, sure.”
Scott follows his best friend, and Isaac trails after them slowly, still
looking around, trying to take everything in. Stiles has set the soda and the
snacks on the coffee table and is already fiddling with Scott's Xbox, ejecting
whatever game is in it and putting his own in. He turns the TV on, then settles
himself down into the couch, wiggling into the cushions with his entire body.
The sight of it makes Isaac laugh softly, and Stiles only shoots him a vaguely
irritated look. Scott flops himself down onto the couch beside Stiles, and
gestures for Isaac to join them. He does, with no small amount of awkwardness,
and watches as Stiles boots up the game, listens as Scott and Stiles catch up
on the week's events, ranting to each other about everything.
It's nearly two hours, 12 cans of soda, two bags of chips, and multiple rounds
of online co-op later (in which Stiles demonstrated his colorful vocabulary and
plugged his microphone in long enough to tell one of the other players that the
game wasn't meant for 10-year-olds, and wasn't it past his bed time?) that
Stiles has given up on his new game and the three teens are watching a movie
that Isaac has never seen before, about three guys on a treasure hunt that get
lost in the wilderness. From the way that the other two had been reciting lines
throughout the movie, Isaac gleaned that this must be a part of the Scott-and-
Stiles ritual, but Stiles is slouched low on the couch now, chin tucked into
his chest and beginning to snore. Scott is looking a little droopy eyed, but
still staring at the screen, and Isaac gets the feeling that he hasn't been
actually watching the movie for a while now.
He wants to check the time, wants to turn around and look at the clock, but
he's afraid if he does, some part of the weirdly perfect night will be ruined.
He knows he needs to get home – back to the Hale house – soon, and idly wonders
if Derek is waiting up for him. Probably not.
The movie ends, and Scott is slipping the controller out of Stiles' hand and is
turning off the game system. He stands with a stretch, yawning wide, and turns
to face Isaac, who is pulling on the drawstrings of his hoodie again, but
reluctantly turns his face up to meet the other wolf's gaze.
“Thanks for letting me come over,” Isaac says softly. Scott is all warm sleepy
smiles and slightly messed up hair as he takes Isaac's hand and helps pull him
up from the couch, a gesture which is entirely unnecessary, but one that speaks
volumes to Isaac.
“No problem, man. You'll have to come hang out with us more,” Scott smiles that
puppy-dog smile, and Isaac can't help but return it. “I'm really glad you came,
Isaac. I mean, I know we don't talk much, and it's sort of awkward because of
Derek, but-”
“No, it's okay. Derek wanted me to come tonight. I think he realizes that with
Erica and Boyd not around...well, it's not like I have a lot of friends,” he
shrugs and chuckles, but Scott doesn't seem to think it's that funny. “Anyway,
I am really glad you invited me, and...well, thanks. Again.”
Scott smiles at him, nodding, and they move toward the door. Isaac's phone
chimes, his text alert startling them both. The teen pulls his phone from his
pocket and checks it, reads the message sent from an unfamiliar number:
Waiting outside when you're ready.
- PH
Isaac glances to the door, sees the headlights of the Camaro parked in the
street, and sighs. Scott moves to the door, looking through the window beside
it, and growls low in his throat.
“I don't understand how Derek can just...welcome him back like that, after
everything,” Scott says, and Isaac shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot. He
hasn't heard the whole story, only bits and pieces of it from everyone
involved, but put together it's enough to form a basic idea.
“He doesn't really want to,” Isaac mumbles, and Scott glances at him, attention
still focused on the car outside. “He said so before I came here. I don't know
the whole story, but...I don't know, maybe there's more to him than a psycho
killer.”
Scott turns his attention away from the window to give Isaac a long, hard
stare. “The guy tried to give my mom the bite so that I would join his pack. He
almost killed Lydia, and he would have killed us if we hadn't gotten to him
first. I really don't think there's much more to him.”
Isaac stuffs his phone back into his pocket and grabs at the door, managing to
pull it open before Scott has a firm grip on his arm. He looks back at the
shorter teen, unsure, but Scott's expression has turned to one of concern now.
“Just be careful, okay? I don't want you getting hurt,” Scott tells him, and
Isaac's heart swells a little, feeling warm.
“I'll be careful,” he agrees, then adds, “I promise.”
Scott lets go of his arm, and Isaac is out the door and headed down the
sidewalk to the street. When he reaches the Camaro, he pulls the passenger door
open and slides in, watching Scott continue to stand in the doorway of his
house as Peter puts the car into gear and drives away.
They're on the next block by the time Isaac looks at the clock on the dash,
which reads 2:47am. He feels mildly guilty as he looks at Peter. “How did
you...I mean, why did you come to pick me up?”
“Did you want to walk back through the woods by yourself with the hunters and
the Alpha pack around?” is the only response he gets at first, and Isaac makes
a sound at the back of his throat, a vague indication of his acknowledgment
that the other is right, at least about this.
“How did you know when I was leaving, then?” Isaac is more accusatory this
time, but Peter doesn't answer, just wordlessly hands Isaac his iPod again. The
teen tries to convince himself that he's not that easily placated, but as he
scrolls through the man's eclectic music collection, he knows it's not true.
Selecting a song, he sets the device back down into the cup holder and leans
back in the seat of the car, closing his eyes. He didn't realize he was so
tired, even though he feels he shouldn't be; he's a teenager and it's the
weekend, after all.
He can feel Peter's eyes on him a few times during the drive, but he pointedly
keeps his eyes shut tight, not interested in conversation. To his credit, Peter
keeps quiet until they're parked in front of the Hale house. The music doesn't
stop when the engine does, but Isaac opens his eyes slowly, looking at the
burnt-out shell of a building tiredly. He doesn't feel Peter's eyes on him this
time, and when he glances over, the man is staring at the house as well,
expression unreadable. Isaac feels something that might be pity, but he pushes
it to the back of his mind. He figures there is no reality in which Peter would
want his sympathy, so he gets out of the car silently and moves toward the
house, climbing the bowed steps of the porch two at a time and pushing the door
open with ease.
Glancing back, he sees Peter still sitting the Camaro, staring. Isaac decides
to let him brood, and shuts the door behind himself.
Derek is at the top of the stairs when he glances up them, and Isaac barely
catches himself from falling over backward. He knows he shouldn't be so
surprised, but his senses are all out of whack, and he pretends he's not trying
to catch his breath as he crosses his arms on the banister, chin resting atop
them.
“I didn't think you'd actually wait for me,” he tells the Alpha. Derek's gaze
slides from Isaac to the shut door behind him, expression carefully blank.
“I wanted to make sure you got back okay,” Derek says, and Isaac can't help
himself when he glances back at the door. He turns his attention slowly back to
Derek, nodding silently toward the door, and Derek nods in affirmation, before
jerking a thumb to a room in the upper part of the house. Isaac dutifully
climbs the stairs and follows as Derek enters his room and shuts the door
behind them, a mere illusion of privacy.
Derek's voice is low when he says, “Did he say anything to you?”
“No...? I mean, about what?” Isaac doesn't bother to mask his confusion, even
as he keeps his voice low to match Derek's. The Alpha shakes his head, looking
sideways at the floor in thought. The sound of the door opening downstairs
catches both of their attentions.
“It's nothing,” Derek mutters, and he pushes the Beta gently back out of the
room before closing the door again. Isaac can hear him moving on the other side
of the door, the rustle of clothes followed by the creaking of the weak
mattress springs. He's still staring at the closed door in confusion when Peter
reaches the top of the stairs. The older man surveys him, amused.
“Lost?” he says, and Isaac glances at him, shaking his head a bit before moving
to the next door down the hall. It opens with a creak, and he gives Peter a
long, unsure look as he stands in the doorway to his designated room. The man
finally says, “Good night, pup,” and Isaac enters his room, closes and locks
the door, not caring if Peter hears the lock click into place.
He ignores the fact that he can still feel Peter standing in the hall,
unmoving, as he removes his shirt, then his jeans, and climbs into bed in his
boxers, pulling the covers over himself. He lays on his side, back to the door,
breathing slowly and evenly for what feels like an eternity before Peter
finally moves, entering Derek's room. Isaac hears the door click shut, and the
rustle of clothes, and quiet, muffled conversation before silence settles over
the house, and he lets himself fall into a deep sleep.
***** Coexistance *****
Chapter Notes
     I could apologize for eternity for how long it took for me to get
     this chapter out, but instead I'm just going to say I hope it was
     worth the wait! More coming soon! I promise!
     ♥
When Isaac wakes up, it's to the smell of breakfast. He rolls over with a
groan, squints at the sunlight streaming through his windows, and checks his
phone. It's around ten, and his alarm has been shut off, even though he knows
he had it set; he wanted to get up early to do his homework and maybe help
Derek with repairs, if the Alpha felt like letting him.
He rolls out of bed and moves over to the three-drawer storage container that
serves as his dresser, pulling out a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of loose
jeans and pulling them on. He scrubs a hand through his hair and doesn't notice
when he leaves his room that he doesn't have to unlock the door first.
Padding his way downstairs, he enters the kitchen area and sees Peter hard at
work creating a full meal – waffles, eggs, bacon, hashbrowns – on the portable
stove, and two places on the table set with plates, cups, and flatware. Sleep
drunk, confused, and slightly alarmed, Isaac stops in the doorway and stares,
watching the older man working wordlessly over the meal, quiet music playing
out of the iPod dock sitting on the charred counter.
Isaac doesn't know how long he's been staring, but he still startles a little
when Peter asks, “Coffee or orange juice?”
The question shocks some movement into Isaac, and he reaches up to run a hand
through his sleep-messed hair. “What?”
Peter loads two fresh waffles, a pile of hashbrowns, an egg, and some bacon
onto one of the plates on the table, starts to move toward Isaac, but the teen
takes a step back as the man steps forward, so he stops and points at the
setting with his spatula instead. “What do you want to drink?”
Isaac looks between the plate full of food, the spatula, and Peter a few times
before his stomach grumbles and he tries to hide his blush of embarrassment by
rubbing at his face with his sleeve. “Coffee, please.”
He watches the other beta dig around in one of the cardboard boxes that houses
their dishes for a moment before producing a mug, one of the ones that Erika
stole from the local diner for them. Her name is scrawled in Sharpie on the
bottom, and Isaac catches a glimpse of it before it's being set on the table,
full of steaming, black coffee. Peter looks at him, surveying, but Isaac
doesn't move to sit down until the other man has gone back to his cooking.
Isaac picks up the mug of coffee and takes a long, heavy drink of the liquid,
closing his eyes and enjoying the bitter taste and rich smell.
“I never guessed you'd be a coffee drinker,” Peter says. Isaac opens his eyes
to find the man sitting across from him, plate loaded with food and his own cup
of coffee in one hand. Isaac takes the time to set his cup down, pour syrup
over his waffles, cut into them, then chew and swallow a large bite before
answering.
“Looks like you guessed wrong,” is all he says, digging into his food with more
vigor; now that he's had a bite, he realizes how hungry he actually is. Peter
takes a bite of his own food, observing Isaac while he chews, but not in a
particularly creepy way, and Isaac is thankful for this.
“I'm typically very good at reading people,” Peter remarks casually, but
there's a hint of something behind the words that makes Isaac fumble his fork
for just a second. He knows that Peter sees it, because the corner of the man's
mouth twitches just so, and Isaac sets his fork down carefully to take another
long drink of his coffee instead.
When he sets his cup down, there are a dozen comebacks buzzing in his head, but
he picks the one question he knows will bother Peter the most. “Where's Derek?”
“Out,” Peter replies quickly, flashing the teen a tense smile. Isaac frowns.
“Out where?”
“I don't know, I didn't ask. He's a big boy, he can take care of himself.”
Isaac hates the fact that he feels like Peter is hiding something, even if his
heartbeat is perfectly even when he speaks. He takes another bite of his
breakfast, ignores Peter's gaze on him for as long as he can.
“Do you know when he'll be back?” He knows the answer before he asks, but still
feels the need to. Peter's fingers twitch, the only indication of his
irritation, but it's enough to give Isaac a sense of satisfaction. He knows
that Peter knows just how much Isaac doesn't want to be alone with him, but he
doesn't care.
“No, I don't,” Peter's tone is sharp, his words clipped, and they finish their
meal in silence. When they're finished eating and Isaac is just using the last
bite of his waffles to soak up the last of the yolks from his eggs, Peter
begins clearing the table, moving dishes and pans to the sink. Isaac cleans his
plate and stands with a stretch, reveling in the feeling of having a full
stomach – a real, full meal, and probably the first he's had in a few weeks –
before he brings his plate to where Peter is standing. Instead of just walking
away this time, like he did with the groceries before, he lingers at Peter's
shoulder as the man takes his plate and adds it to the stack in the sink that's
slowly filling with soapy water.
“Thanks for breakfast,” Isaac mumbles, and Peter hums tonelessly in reply. “Do
you need any help with the dishes?”
Peter turns the lever on the faucet, ceasing the flow of water, and glances
over his shoulder at Isaac for a short moment before grabbing a towel from the
counter and tossing it over his shoulder to the teen.
“Sure. I'll wash, you dry.”
Isaac takes his position to the right of the sink, watching as Peter carefully
scrubs away the bits of food from the first dish and rinsing it under a small
stream of cold water from the faucet before handing it off to Isaac. He dries
the plate carefully before stacking it back into one of the cardboard boxes
that holds all of their dishes. They continue this way until all of the dishes
are washed and put away as well as they can be, and Isaac drapes the towel over
the back of a folding chair to dry as Peter dunks his hand into the sink to
remove the stopper and let the water drain.
Isaac watches the water level recede for a moment before stretching again,
hands reaching far over his head as he yawns. He stops and drops his arm when
he notices Peter eying him, an unnerving smirk on his face.
“So, uh,” Isaac starts to say, but stops as Peter steps forward and wipes his
wet and soapy hands dry on the front of Isaac's shirt, patting his chest as
Isaac stares, open-mouthed, down at his no-longer-clean shirt.
“Thanks for the help, pup,” the older man chimes as he saunters out of the
room, leaving Isaac staring at the wet hand prints on his chest. After a
moment, he pulls the shirt over his head and exits the kitchen, glancing around
the house for Peter. He doesn't see the older man anywhere, so he darts up the
stairs quickly, shutting and locking the door to his room behind himself before
going to look for a new shirt.
Re-dressed, he grabs his backpack before exiting his room and heading
downstairs to the living room. Finding the space unoccupied, he throws himself
onto the couch and unzips his backpack, pulling out a textbook and a notebook
with a pencil shoved into the spiral. He takes another minute to load Pandora
on his phone before starting in on his trigonometry homework, copying problems
from his textbook into the notebook and working through them, occasionally
flipping to the calculator on his phone to work through part of a problem.
He's nearing the end of his Trig homework when he hears the rumble of an engine
that he's not familiar with. It isn't the Camaro or the Jeep, and Isaac swears
his heart skips a beat as he sits up a little straighter on the couch. He opens
his senses, but he's too shaken by the rumble of the car approaching the house.
As it rolls to a stop in front of the house and the engine cuts, he senses
Derek suddenly, and with only a little bit of shake in his knees, stands and
pads to entry way. He opens the door a crack, peeking out, before swinging it
wide and stepping out onto the porch, watching as Derek exits this foreign
vehicle.
“What happened to the Camaro?” Isaac finds himself wondering out loud, and
Derek retrieves a pile of broken-down cardboard boxes from the trunk of the car
before approaching the house.
“Traded it in,” he answers simply, passing half of the pile to Isaac, who
stares at the boxes blankly as he follows Derek inside. The Alpha passes the
other half of the pile to Peter, who has since materialized (or at least that's
what it seems like) in the entryway. “Pack your stuff up, we've got a new
place.”
“Wait, what?” Isaac asks, suddenly feeling like he's missed a huge part of a
conversation.
“So you found a place after all?” Peter asks, and Isaac realizes that his
initial feeling was right. He had missed a huge part of a conversation, after
all.
“You knew about this?” He accuses, rounding on Peter without warning, lip
starting to curl in a snarl. The older beta doesn't speak, just rolls his eyes
and looks at Derek.
“The renovations...aren't working out,” the alpha explains quietly, tone gentle
despite the hard look he gives his beta. “There's an apartment on the other
side of town, you'll be closer to school and we'll all be able to do a better
job of keeping an eye on each other.”
Isaac shifts his weight from foot to foot, expression more calm as he looks
between the two older men. “Are we running from something? The alpha pack?”
“We're not running,” Derek assures, folding his arms over his chest. “It's
something I've been considering for a while. Now go pack your stuff up, if
we're lucky, we can get everything moved over by tonight.”
Isaac hesitates for a moment before retreating up the stairs to his room,
shutting the door behind himself and dropping the pile of boxes on his bed. He
sighs and leans against the wood of the door, listening to the low buzz of
Derek and Peter's voices in the hall downstairs.
***** Truth *****
Chapter Notes
     Yes! I finished chapter five within a reasonable time frame!
     Things are really going to pick up in the next few chapters, it's
     been a lot of work laying the foundation for where I want things to
     go.
     Thanks for hanging on for the ride, hope you all enjoy the new
     chapter!
It doesn't take Isaac very long to pack his few belongings. After Derek brings
a roll of tape to him in his room, he tapes his make-shift dresser shut and
packs what few personal objects he has into two boxes. He's finishing up taping
the last box up when the familiar rumble of Stile's Jeep interrupts his
thoughts, pulling him back to the present.
He hears the teen bounce in through the front door, calling, “Sourwolf! Hey!
I'm here to help you move your shit!”
Isaac opens his bedroom door, peeking out as Derek opens the door across the
hall, glaring down the stairs at Stiles with a little less anger than usual.
The alpha grabs a stack of boxes and almost glides effortlessly down the
stairs, handing a few of them off to Stiles.
“Hey, whoa, I can't carry this much. Derek? Hey!” Isaac glances down the stairs
but looks back toward Derek's room when he hears a shuffle. Peter is laying on
one of the mattresses just inside the room, arms folded under his head and a
pair of expensive-looking studio headphones on. Isaac stares for a minute,
glancing down the stairs again to make sure Derek is still outside with Stiles,
before he crosses the hall into the other bedroom.
His bare feet don't make that much noise on the floor, but he's sure Peter can
still hear him approach, there's a slight shift in his position, muscles
tensing under a shirt that Isaac is thinks must be a couple sizes too small.
Peter's eyes open suddenly and Isaac jumps, immediately frowning at himself for
reacting like a scared puppy. Peter smirks as he pulls off his headphones,
sitting up and resting his elbows on his knees.
“Need something, pup?” Peter asks, and to Isaac's surprise, it doesn't sound
patronizing. For once, the man actually sounds genuine, which throws the teen
off a bit.
“Uh,” he reaches up and scratches his arm, looking sideways, taking in parts of
the room he's never actually looked at before. Peter watches him, tries to wait
patiently for an answer, but ends up sighing loudly and standing up before
Isaac can really collect himself.
“Look,” the older man starts to say, but cuts himself off as Stiles comes
thundering up the stairs, whipping into the room like a small tornado.
“Derek said to bring the beds down so we can strap them to the top of the
Toyota,” he says mostly to Isaac, glancing at Peter a few times, if only to
glare at the man suspiciously. “And, uh, if there's anything else you want
packed, you should do it soon.”
“Boyd's books are downstairs,” Isaac says a bit numbly. Stiles nods animatedly
before darting across the hall into Isaac's room.
“Hey, you want me to bring this stuff down to the car?” the human calls at an
unnecessary volume, and Isaac moves around Peter to grab the mattress the older
man had been laying on a minute ago.
“Yeah, thanks,” Isaac replies as he hoists the mattress up, pausing to look at
Peter, who has grabbed a box and a roll of tape from the corner.
“I'll pack the books while you take the beds down,” the older beta says in
answer before disappearing down the stairs. Stiles comes out of Isaac's room,
arms full with the two boxes and organizer-turned-dresser, and with a concerned
look, jerks his head toward the direction of the stairs. Isaac simply shakes
his head, mouths 'later' and moves down the stairs and out the door with the
first mattress.
Derek is waiting by the Toyota, and takes the mattress from Isaac before the
teen even makes it off of the porch, tossing it on top of the car with a
ridiculous amount of werewolf ease. Isaac puts his hands in his pockets and
rocks back on his heels as Derek turns back around.
Stiles comes almost tumbling out of the door, and Derek catches a box as it
slips from his grip. The human grins at him sheepishly, moving to put the boxes
in the back of his Jeep, taking the other box from Derek and packing it in as
well.
“So, you're gonna pay me for this, right?” Stiles asks, making a show of
dusting his hands off on his jeans. Derek fixes him with a stare and Isaac
laughs. Stiles shifts, looking between the two. “Or, uh, you know. You can just
repay me later.”
“I'll take you to dinner as payment,” Peter chimes from the doorway, a box in
his arms. Stiles' nose crinkles at the suggestion, arms crossing over his
chest.
“Haha, very funny,” the teen snorts out, and Peter shrugs, passing the box to
Isaac.
“Then I guess Derek will have to take you to dinner instead,” the older man
disappears inside, and Isaac watches as Stiles' face turns an interesting shade
of red. He quickly passes the box off to Derek, who has gone rigidly silent,
before fleeing back into the house. He can hear Stiles stumbling over his words
and kicking little pieces of gravel around as he attempts to change the
subject, the sound fading a little as he moves back up the stairs.
Peter is standing at the top with Isaac's mattress held firmly, and Isaac
wonders briefly if he should side-step or move backwards to be out of the older
man's way. He does neither, instead putting both hands on either bannister of
the stairs and looking up at Peter.
“We're not running, right?” He asks, knowing that Derek is just distracted
enough by Stiles to not hear the question from outside. Peter scoffs and folds
his arms over his chest, letting the mattress lean up-right against the wall.
“You tell me. Did your senses tell you Derek was lying before?” Peter's
heartbeat is level, his breathing even, and Isaac is a little frustrated by
this.
“No, but-”
“Then why are you asking me, pup?” Peter gives the mattress a push with his
foot and it slides down the stairs towards Isaac, who catches it and looks up
at him again.
“Because Derek's my alpha. He knows how to keep things from me if he wants to,”
he picks the words carefully, never breaking eye contact with Peter. The older
man's eyebrow raises slightly, and his arms drop to his sides.
“You think I can't hide things from you?” His tone is skeptical and amused.
Isaac holds his ground and digs his nails into the mattress.
“I think you can, but I don't think you will,” is his carefully chosen answer.
He resists a victorious smile as Peter's smirk falters just a little and his
breathing catches for a millisecond. His smug mask is back before he turns to
head back up the hall for the last mattress.
When the Toyota and Jeep are packed, Derek instructs Stiles to follow him to
the apartment, and while Isaac wants to be near his alpha – he still has
unanswered questions about the move – he can't bring himself to get into the
tightly-packed vehicle with both of the Hale men. He chooses to hitch a ride
with Stiles, and they're not even out of the reserve before Stiles rounds on
him.
“What's with you and Peter?” The Jeep jerks a bit to the right as Stiles turns
to look at the other teen. Isaac grips the handle above the door of the vehicle
and glances between Stiles and the narrow gravel road running through the
woods.
“What?” he decides to play stupid for now, giving Isaac the best puppy-dog eyes
he can muster. The human isn't fooled and he indicates this by giving Isaac one
of the hardest looks he's ever seen on Stiles' face.
“Scott told me he picked you up from his house the other night,” his tone is
less inquisitive and more severe now, and Isaac has to force himself to keep
eye contact instead of evading the others' gaze.
“What's your point?”
“My point is,” Stiles pauses briefly as they follow Derek's Toyota turning onto
the main road outside of the reserve, “He's dangerous, Isaac. If he's trying to
drag you into something...”
Isaac looks out the window beside him as Stiles trails off, and huffs a quiet
sigh through his nose, chewing the inside of his cheek. He can feel Stiles
glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, so he turns his attention back to
the driver.
“I don't know what he's doing, okay? He's just...I can't ever tell what he's
thinking, and I don't trust him. So relax.”
Stiles nods after a minute, seeming to process this information, chewing on his
lip in thought. Isaac stares at him for a while longer, absentmindedly tugging
at the cuffs of his shirt sleeves with his fingers. They drive another mile in
with just the quiet hum of the radio in the background before Isaac's curiosity
gets the better of him, and he asks, “What did he even do, anyway? I mean, I've
heard bits and pieces of the story from you, Derek, and Scott, but...”
Stiles glances at him again, mouth set in a hard line as he seems to consider
answering the question. Finally, he reaches over and switches off the radio,
fingers twitching on the steering wheel nervously.
He tells Isaac everything.
***** Comfort *****
Chapter Notes
     Things are starting to pick up finally! A few notes this time around:
     Peter being a fan of The Cure was an idea taken from theaeblackthorn
     and her story 10.15_Saturday_Night, which is a great story (and also
     the first Pisaac fic I read!).
     This chapter brought to you by this_song.
     Mentions of past abuse in this chapter, but...that's sort of to be
     expected from a fic involving Isaac.
     Lastly, I hope you all enjoy! Thanks for your support and patience!
When they arrive at the apartment and begin to unpack things, Isaac sees Peter
in a whole new light. One that, in his unspoken opinion, actually explains a
lot. He doesn't say anything to the man about it immediately, instead focusing
on helping Derek and the others get everything unpacked.
By the time they're finished, Derek has retreated to his room and Isaac has
sprawled himself out on the new couch in the studio-style apartment while
Stiles makes dinner. Peter, who has apparently claimed the kitchen as “his
space” is buzzing around Stiles, directing him on how to chop, stir, mix, and
various other instructions. Isaac huffs a little laugh as Stiles growls in
frustration and flings a spoonful of gravy at Peter, successfully splattering
the older man with the sauce.
Peter comes out of the kitchenette a second later, peeling his long-sleeved
shirt from his body in a way that makes Isaac shift uncomfortably, although
he's not really sure why. He watches as Peter fishes another shirt – a short-
sleeved one this time – out of a box to the side of the main living room and
pulls it on. Isaac tries to pretend he doesn't notice how the shirt hugs the
man's muscles. Peter catches him staring and quirks an eyebrow questioningly,
so Isaac tries to avoid his gaze. This works briefly, until Peter takes a seat
beside him on the couch, directly in his line of sight.
“Penny for your thoughts, pup?” Isaac feels himself twitch at the unpleasant
nickname but gives nothing away otherwise. He shakes his head, folding his arms
over his chest as he leans back against the armrest of the couch, knees bent
and feet on the middle cushion; keeping Peter at the far end.
“Just thinking about something Stiles told me,” he says, and it's not untrue,
he thinks, his heart rate level. His chest feels odd, though, constricted, and
he moves his arms up to his knees, resting his chin on them as he looks across
the couch at the older man. “Do you ever miss being an alpha? I mean, you went
through so much to become one in the first place.”
Peter's mouth twitches into something resembling a smile and he leans back
further into the couch, looking up at the ceiling.
“So that's what you two were discussing,” he says in a low tone. Isaac thinks
that's all he's going to say until after another long minute, he answers, “I
suppose I do.”
“Would you ever try to do it again?” Isaac bites his cheek, frustrated at
himself for not staying his curiosity even a little bit. Peter glances at him
out of the corner of his eye, shrugs.
“I killed my niece the last time,” he says lightly, as if he's completely
unaffected by this, and maybe he is. “Who do you think I'd have to kill this
time around?”
Isaac considers this, even as Peter stands and moves toward the series of
shelves that Derek modified into a sort-of entertainment center. Isaac had been
surprised to notice that the first thing Peter bothered to bring into the
apartment (and set up) was the stereo. Peter pulls his iPod out of his pocket
and plugs it into the stereo, selecting a playlist and hitting play before
returning to the couch.
Isaac looks at him curiously as a song he doesn't recognize begins to play, the
volume low but the sound perfectly clear to his wolf senses. He tilts his head
in curiosity, gaze still fixed on the older man, who has shut his eyes and
seems to be in a perfect state of relaxation. Isaac decides to break his
concentration.
“What is this?” he asks quietly, and Peter doesn't move, doesn't seem to hear
him, but Isaac knows he has, and he waits patiently for the answer.
“It's before your time,” Peter finally says, fingers tapping along to the drum
beat on his knee. Isaac watches the man's fingertips connect with his jean-clad
leg with fascination. “The band is called The Cure, they've been around since
the seventies.”
Isaac nods, looking toward the stereo again, then shifting his weight a bit. He
fidgets again before Peter sighs and sits up straight, looking at him.
“Sit back and close your eyes,” he instructs, and Isaac stares at him for a
minute before doing as he's told, letting his eyes flutter shut as he relaxes
into the couch. “Take a deep breath and let it out slowly; clear your mind, and
listen.”
Isaac follows the directions he's given again, letting himself relax, feeling
the weight of his muscles ease as the tension of the day seeps out of him
slowly at first then all at once. He rests his temple against the cushions on
the back of the couch and breaths slowly and deeply, listening to the dark,
drawling tones of the music.
The song is almost over when Stiles comes into the room, preceded by the sound
of his awkward, uneven footsteps. The teen pauses, seeing the two lounging,
looking almost asleep on the couch, before he clears his throat louder than
necessary.
“Dinner's done. I'm, uh, I'll go tell Derek,” Isaac can hear the frown in his
tone before he sees Stiles' disproving expression as he disappears up the small
set of spiral stairs.
Isaac looks at Peter, who hums lowly at him and makes a shooing gesture with
his hand. Isaac stands and stretches, padding into the kitchen to get dinner as
Peter takes his space on the couch, stretching out fully and claiming the whole
thing for himself.
Isaac is dishing himself up a large plate of beef stroganoff when Stiles and
Derek enter the kitchen, the latter looking more worn out than Isaac has seen
him in a long time. The two are having a quiet discussion between themselves,
so Isaac grabs a fork and slides past them out into the living room again,
where he sits on the second couch opposite of where Peter is still laying and
begins digging into his meal.
He is raising his third bite of food to his mouth when he looks up at Peter,
who hasn't moved since Isaac sat down; the man is stretched out, one arm curled
under his head and the other draped over the side of the couch, and as Isaac
pauses to listen to his breathing and heart rate, he realizes that Peter is
asleep.
He laughs quietly and finishes his meal, returning the plate to the kitchen
where Derek and Stiles are sitting, eating and talking. He leaves the plate in
the sink and excuses himself, although the two barely notices, and moves back
across the apartment and up the spiral stairs. He ducks into the first room on
the left, the one that was decided would be his, and grabs one of the blankets
that have been folded and piled onto his unmade bed.
Isaac descends the stairs two at a time, keeping his footfalls light and quiet.
When he re-enters the living room, Peter hasn't moved, and Isaac can't help the
half smile that he feels form on his lips. For someone who is supposedly a
vicious sociopath, the man looks surprisingly harmless like this, and Isaac
entertains this thought as he spreads the blanket over the man. He unhooks the
iPod from the stereo and leaves it on the coffee table near Peter before
ascending the stairs and retreating into his room for the night.
He collapses on his bed without making it or changing clothes first, and lazily
curls a blanket around himself; he falls asleep before he can even get
comfortable.
It's around two in the morning when Peter is startled awake by the screams. His
instincts pull him from the couch and up the stairs before his mind can fully
process what's going on, and he's met in the hall by Derek, who has come out of
his room looking just as alarmed and sleep-muddled as Peter feels.
“Isaac,” Derek says, voice roughened by sleep, and Peter beats the alpha to the
teen's door, pushing it open and entering quickly. He hesitates once inside,
taken slightly aback by the image before him; Isaac tangled in the blanket
wrapped around him, pale and sweating, eyes wide with terror. The screaming has
stopped, and Peter senses Derek frozen in the doorway behind him, so he moves
forward, dropping to his knees beside Isaac's bed. The beta's heartbeat is
running wild, but his breathing is beginning to slow as Peter places a gentle
hand on the teen's shoulder. The three sit quiet for a long minute before Isaac
runs a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, heaving a sigh.
“I'm fine,” he breathes out, and Derek snorts in the doorway, arms folded over
his chest. Isaac takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and shakes his
head. “I'm fine, go back to bed.”
Peter raises an eyebrow at the teen but doesn't budge. Derek narrows his eyes,
watching the two for a minute before turning and retreating back into his room,
shutting the door behind himself. Isaac looks at Peter expectantly, suddenly
very aware of the man's hand on his shoulder.
“I'm fine,” he tries again, but Peter scoffs and stands, offering a hand to the
teen. “What?”
“Come on,” the elder insists, wiggling his fingers until Isaac takes his hand
and lets Peter help him stand. Peter drops Isaac's hand from his grip and turns
to exit the room, not checking to see if the younger will follow him.
Isaac does indeed follow a few feet behind him, taking the metal stairs slowly
as the descend into the living room. Peter leads Isaac to the couch and
gestures for him to sit, but the teen continues to stand, confused.
“Sit,” Peter orders, placing his hands on the teen's shoulders and pushing
gently until the younger beta finally relents and takes a seat on the couch. He
watches with interest as Peter disappears into the kitchen, then takes the
blanket draped over the back of the couch and wraps it around himself. It's
unseasonably cold for autumn, and the temperature in the apartment is lower
than it has any right to be. Isaac, still damp from the cold sweat of his
nightmare, shivers and burrows further into the blanket, ignoring the fact that
it's covered in Peter's scent.
The older man returns a few minutes later, a steaming mug in hand. He passes it
to Isaac and sits on the far end of the couch from where the teen is, watches
as he sips at the hot chocolate. The young wolf's nose wrinkles after his first
sip, and his licks his lips, looking questioningly at the mug of hot liquid.
“Is there...alcohol in this?” he takes another sip, eyes on Peter this time,
and the older man nods.
“Coconut rum. Just drink it, it'll help calm you down,” Isaac looks into the
mug again, notices the generous spray of whipped cream on the top, and can't
help the small smile that spreads across his face. He drinks from the mug a few
more times before leaning his head back, arms resting on his knees, drink
gripped lightly between his fingers.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Peter ventures, and Isaac notices the small
amount of hesitance in the question. He shakes his head, taking another long
drink of the hot chocolate and draining the mug completely. Peter takes the mug
from him and places it on the coffee table, sitting back again to look at
Isaac.
The teen closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and just when Peter thinks he's
stopped breathing completely, he says, “My dad. He used to, uh, hit me.”
Peter is quiet, waiting patiently for Isaac to say more, and finally he
continues, “When I was thirteen, he started locking me in a freezer, in our
basement. He's only been dead a few months, but, I can't-”
He stops, choking on the words, and takes another deep breath; this time he
lets it out wordlessly. The brief explanation is enough for Peter to get the
idea, and he sighs, running a hand through his own hair and looking at the
ceiling. Isaac pulls the blanket closer around himself, tries not to breathe in
the scent of the other man and fails.
They sit in silence for a while longer before Isaac shifts and stands, looking
at Peter.
“I, uh...I should go back to bed,” he mumbles, and the older beta nods slowly,
feeling sleep creeping in at the edges of his consciousness. “Thanks for the
hot chocolate.”
“Goodnight, pup,” the soft reply is punctuated by a yawn from the older man,
and Isaac smiles a little, moving to remove the blanket from where it's still
wrapped around his shoulders. Peter waves a hand at him, stretching back out on
the couch. He cushions one arm under his head and closes his eyes. “Keep it.
I'm not much of a blanket guy.”
Isaac raises an eyebrow at the small jump in heart rate, the telltale sign of a
lie, but decides not to question it and heads back up the stairs and into his
room. He falls asleep to the faint scent of cologne, coffee, and the burnt-out
earthy scent that is uniquely Peter, and sleeps a dreamless sleep.
***** Defiance *****
Chapter Notes
     Don't really have any notes this time! Hope you all enjoy, and thanks
     for sticking around! ♥
When Isaac wakes up, it's to the murmur of voices in the living room below him.
He takes his time stretching and pulling himself out of bed, and - still
dressed from the night before - he wraps himself up in the blanket he slept
with and drags it down the spiral stairs into the main area of the apartment.
Sunlight is filtering in through the large windows and lighting up the room,
and he pauses at the bottom of the stairs, squinting a little at the sudden
increase in brightness.
Once his eyes adjust, he sees Scott and Stiles sitting in the living room,
talking over plates full of eggs, bacon, and hash browns. Derek is across the
room, leafing through a dusty leather-bound book, quietly relaying information
to someone over the phone. Isaac quietly pads his way toward Scott and Stiles,
the human of the duo spotting him first and waving him over.
“Hey, Isaac! Glad you're awake, the food was starting to get cold,” Stiles
points to a plate of food sitting on the coffee table beside a cup of dark
coffee. The beta smiles and yawns, moving closer to the pair, when suddenly
Scott goes stiff, turning slowly towards Isaac, sniffing at the air. Stiles
raises an eyebrow comically high, and Isaac moves to sit on the couch across
from them, picking up the plate of food and digging into it. Scott is still
staring at him strangely when he pauses to take a large gulp of luke-warm
coffee.
“Uh, Scott?” he asks, voice still gravelly with sleep, and the other wolf
frowns at him. “What's the matter?”
“Why does that blanket smell like Peter?” Scott asks slowly, trying not to make
any unfounded accusations, and Stiles almost spits out the large drink of
orange juice he has just taken.
“Wait, what?” the human teen rounds on the boy sitting next to him. Isaac takes
another bite of bacon, looking between the two, and takes his time to chew and
swallow before answering.
“He was using it last night,” Isaac replies to Scott's question just as slowly,
deliberately, tone revealing nothing. Stiles seems to take this as bad news and
groans, throwing himself back against the couch cushions. Isaac finally breaks
face and laughs, shaking his head.
“He was sleeping on the couch, I had a nightmare, came downstairs to get a
drink, and ended up taking it back to bed with me accidentally,” he explains
briefly, leaving out the details of Peter coming to his aid at his bedside and
making him a cup of hot chocolate spiked with rum to calm his nerves. Stiles'
and Scott's expressions shift slowly at first, then all at once into looks of
relief. Isaac tilts his head at them and asks, “Why?”
“No reason,” Scott says quickly, beginning to shovel food into his mouth at a
rapid pace, as Stiles takes another long drink of orange juice. Isaac squints
at the two.
“What, you didn't think we slept together or something, did you?” He asks
through a laugh, tone pure skepticism. Both of the boys remain silent a beat
too long, and Isaac chokes on a bite of his hash browns. “Seriously, guys?”
Scott and Stiles both chuckle nervously, falling silent as Derek approaches the
group and takes a seat next to Isaac, leaning back into the couch cushions with
a sigh. Isaac calms down a bit in the presence of his alpha and continues to
eat his meal silently while Scott and Stiles discuss something school related.
Isaac finishes his food shortly and sets his plate on the coffee table. He
looks at the spot where he had placed Peter's iPod the night before, and
suddenly aware that it and a few of the boxes that had been stacked near the
wall were missing, turns to look at Derek.
“Where's Peter?” his tone is pure curiosity. Derek is unfazed by the question
and Isaac ignores the looks that Scott and Stiles level him with.
“He went home,” Derek says, then adds in a relieved tone, “Finally.”
“Home?” Stiles is the curious one this time, and Scott pays rapt attention to
the conversation, also interested.
“He has an apartment downtown,” Derek explains, lifting his head from where
it's resting against the back of the couch to look at Stiles, seemingly
ignoring the other two. “Did you seriously think I'd let him live here?”
Stiles' patented shrug-nod is a fair indicator that, yes, that's exactly what
he thought. Derek scoffs and rolls his eyes, letting his head fall back against
the couch cushions once more. Isaac pulls his legs up onto the couch, closing
his eyes and snuggling into the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders, and
ignores Stiles' sharp hiss of breath from the couch across from them. He keeps
his eyes closed, relaxing into the corner of the couch as Stiles suddenly
stands up, dragging Scott up with him.
“Derek! Can we talk to you?” the two teens drag the alpha outside of the loft,
and far enough away that Isaac can't hear whatever it is they're discussing.
Isaac waits until they've been gone for a few minutes before he reaches beneath
the blanket and removes his phone from the pocket of his jeans. He flips
through his recently received messages, finds the one from the other night when
he was at Scott's house, and opens it.
Waiting outside when you're ready.
- PH
Isaac taps a button and opens a reply window, typing out a message slowly. He
pauses, erases it, then writes something else before hitting send.
What are you doing today?
He sets the phone down and picks up his now cold cup of coffee, taking a drink
and wrinkling his nose at the temperature of the bitter liquid. He almost drops
the cup when his phone chimes. Setting the mug down quickly, he fumbles picking
up his phone and opens the received message.
What's wrong?
- PH
Isaac can't help the amused quirk that pulls at his lips, typing out a reply
slowly. He pauses again, looking at his abandoned cup of cold coffee, adds
another line, and hits send.
Nothing. Bored. Wanna get coffee?
He holds his phone this time, staring at the open conversation eagerly awaiting
a reply. After a few minutes, when one doesn't arrive, he sighs and pockets his
phone. Removing himself from the couch, he treads back up the stairs and into
his room, where he sheds the blanket and his shirt from the night before,
pulling on a new one. As he's about to leave his room, his phone chimes again,
and he quickly pulls the device from his pocket to check the message.
Sure. Meet you in half an hour.
- PH
He makes sure that he memorizes the address for the coffee shop that Peter had
included in the message before pulling on socks and shoes and retreating back
down the stairs. Derek and Stiles have come back into the apartment without
Scott - Isaac assumes the other has left - and are sitting beside each other on
one of the couches, pouring over the book that Derek had been looking at that
morning, occasionally leaning across each other to grab a pen or paper or to
point at something on one of the other various sheets of notes surrounding
them.
Isaac clears his throat softly, smirking when they both look up suddenly,
apparently not having noticed him enter the room.
“I'm going out,” he says more to Derek than to Stiles, but the teen is the
first to raise a question.
“Where? With who?” Isaac raises an eyebrow, still smirking as he pulls on a
hoodie draped over the back of a chair and slings his backpack over his
shoulder.
“I'm just going to get a cup of coffee and do some schoolwork. I'll only be
gone a couple of hours,” he explains, moving toward the door, but Stiles
objects again.
“Do you have your phone? Call us if anything happens, got it?”
Isaac can't help the laugh that bubbles up and slips past his lips,
accompanying the smirk which hasn't fallen at all.
“Yes, mom,” he calls over his shoulder mockingly as he exits the loft, sliding
the large metal door shut behind himself. He ignores Stiles' shout of, “Smart
ass!” as he takes the steps two at a time down to the first floor of the
building.
The coffee shop is easy enough to find, tucked in between a tattoo parlor and a
record store in downtown Beacon Hills, and when Isaac gets there and realizes
that he is incredibly early, he orders a hot chocolate and takes a window seat
facing the door. He watches people come and go from the shop while pulling out
his English homework and laying it out on the table. Opening his book, he picks
up a pencil and begins taking notes on a piece of paper, and continues this way
for several minutes before the door chimes and he looks up, sensing Peter
almost immediately. He watches as the older man places his order, then joins
Isaac at the table, bringing the steaming cup of coffee with him.
Isaac moves to fold his book shut, but Peter grabs his wrist to stop him.
“Homework?”
“English,” Isaac nods as Peter sits back, looking across the table at the teen
like he was seeing him for the first time. “We're studying mythology. I have to
pick a myth and write a paper about it by Friday.”
The older man hums, taking a sip of his coffee and looking at the book sitting
open in front of Isaac. When he looks back up, Isaac is watching him, but
doesn't seem to notice that he is.
“Have you chosen a myth yet?” Peter breaks the silence, watching with interest
as the teen licks his lips before looking back down at the book. He flips a few
pages backward and points with the end of his pencil while picking up his hot
chocolate to take a sip. Peter waits for Isaac to put his drink down and
explain.
“I was considering this one, the story of Persephone, but I'm having a hard
time with it,” the teen says, flipping a few pages again before looking back up
at Peter, who was nodding. “Do you know it?”
“It's one of my favorites,” Peter replies honestly, and Isaac raises an
eyebrow. The older man continues, “All myths and legends served a purpose in
ancient times. People used them to explain, to teach, to and to warn. The story
of Persephone, or, the story of Demeter's sorrow, was used to explain the
separation of the seasons.”
Isaac is still watching intently as Peter raises his cup of coffee to his mouth
to take a long drink. When he lowers it again, the older man wets his bottom
lip, watching as Isaac's gaze focuses on his mouth. They stay in silence for a
while, both indulging in their drinks, until Isaac drains his cup of hot
chocolate and forces his attention to the book in front of him, tapping his
pencil on it as he tries to focus on the words on the page. He hears the clink
of porcelain against the table top and looks up to see that Peter has also
finished his drink, and is reaching across the table to grip the book, pulling
it slowly out of Isaac's hands. Isaac keeps his gaze focused on Peter's the
entire time, until the older man folds the book shut and rests his hands on it.
Isaac huffs a small laugh and looks down at the notebook in front of him.
“Okay, so, tell me about Persephone,” he goads, and Peter obliges with a smile.
He tells Isaac about how Persephone was the daughter of Demeter, goddess of the
harvest. Hades, god of the dead, was so enraptured with Persephone's beauty,
that he lured her away from her loved ones using the beauty of the narcissus
flower, kidnapped her, and took her to the underworld to be his bride. Without
Persephone, no new vegetation grew on the earth, which turned cold and
lifeless. When Zeus found out about what his brother, Hades, had done, he sent
his messenger Hermes to order that Persephone be allowed to return to her
mother's side, so that the earth may begin to grow anew. Before she was allowed
to leave the underworld, Hades made Persephone eat the seed of a pomegranate,
ensuring that she would have to return to him. When Persephone returned to
Demeter, she told her mother of the pomegranate seed that she had eaten, and
Demeter, knowing that this meant she could not keep her daughter by her side,
allowed Persephone to return to Hades in the underworld, striking the land into
a cold, slumbering death once a year.
By the time that Peter finishes the story, Isaac has gotten them both a second
drink, which they both sip at as Isaac jots notes down per Peter's
instructions. They both pause momentarily as Isaac's phone buzzes and chimes in
his pocket. With a frown, he pulls the device out and checks the received
messages. His frown deepens as he pockets the phone again.
“Something the matter?” Peter asks around the rim of his coffee mug, and Isaac
shakes his head, picking his pen back up, although the frown hasn't left his
face.
“Derek,” Isaac mutters, dropping his pen again and sighing. Peter sighs,
lowering his mug to the table.
“He's worried about you,” it isn't a question, more of a statement, and Isaac
nods, still frowning.
“I mean, it's nice, but everyone is acting like you're-” Isaac stops and glares
down at his notebook. Peter's expression shifts slowly to one of irritation,
and Isaac looks up just in time to catch a glimpse of it before his expression
melts back into something neutral.
“Isaac,” the older man begins, but the teen shakes his head, stuffing his
notebook and pen back into his backpack before zipping it up.
“Peter,” the teen retorts, eyebrows raised as he looks at the man across from
him. They stare each other down for a long moment before Peter lets out a soft
laugh and gestures toward the door.
“Lets get out of here. I want to show you something.”
The pair stands, and Isaac heads for the door, waiting momentarily as Peter
opens his wallet and drops a few bills into the the tip jar on the counter.
Peter smirks as he moves past they teen, and Isaac exits the coffee shop a few
feet behind him.
***** Conflict *****
Chapter Notes
     Hope this chapter satisfies. Tension! Hooray!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
To Isaac's surprise, they don't go far from the coffee shop; Peter leads him
next door to the record store that Isaac hadn't really given a thought to when
he had arrived. They're barely inside the shop when the clerk at the counter,
reading a battered copy of The Rolling Stone, greets Peter by name and asks
what he's in for today. Isaac stares blankly between the two as they share a
short exchange about – from what Isaac can tell – recently released albums.
Before he realizes it, the conversation is over and Peter is leading him into
the store, guiding him with a hand on his shoulder toward the many racks of
vinyl records. When they stop at one, Isaac looks at Peter questioningly,
raising a hand to point to the back of the store where he sees racks of CDs.
“Shouldn't we be back there?” Peter scoffs at the question, patting Isaac
patronizingly on the back.
“Have you ever listened to a real record, Isaac?” the man asks, and Isaac
shakes his head slowly, eyebrows furrowing slightly.
“Music wasn't a really big thing for me growing up,” the teen replies honestly,
shrugging a bit even as Peter looks mildly horrified. Isaac stuffs his hands
into his pockets and shuffles uncomfortably under Peter's gaze as the man pulls
himself together and begins to guide Isaac through the section.
“Let's find a starting point, shall we?” Peter coaxes, starting at the
beginning of the alphabet, and Isaac looks at the records, feeling completely
lost. “What sort of music do you like?”
Isaac shrugs mutely, frowning, because suddenly he's very unsure. What kind of
music does he like? Peter looks at him, waiting for an answer, for a solid
minute before he begins to flip through albums, pulling out a few here and
there and passing them over to Isaac, who looks at each one before accepting it
and adding it to the growing pile in his arms.
They work through a few rows this way, Peter pulling out albums, looking at
them, and either putting them back or adding them to the stack – which has
grown quite heavy, Isaac notes, and he's very thankful for his werewolf
strength – and occasionally Isaac will look at one and ask the man a question
about the band or the music, which Peter will always answer expertly.
Isaac has a stack of nearly twenty records in his arms when he finally begins
to realize that maybe Derek's uncle is a little bit of a music fanatic. Which,
he decides, it not necessarily a bad thing; it makes Peter seem more human to
him, having real interests and passions, which makes Isaac smile a little. He's
never seen the man quite so animated as he is now, describing the style and
sound of the most recent record he's added to the pile in Isaac's arms. They're
halfway through the the next row when Isaac pipes up over the top of the
increasingly large pile of records, “You know I don't have a record player,
right?”
Peter plucks another album from a rack, wrinkles his nose and puts it back
before flipping through more. “I'm aware of this, yes.”
“So, uh,” Isaac looks at the pile, then back up at Peter, who has finally
stopped perusing the racks to return Isaac's look.
“So I'll get you one, obviously,” comes the reply, and Peter's tone insinuates
that, yes, this actually was obvious. Isaac can't help but raise an eyebrow at
this, looking toward the boxes housing record players that line one wall of the
shop, gaze focusing on a few of the price tags. He feels a bead of sweat roll
down the back of his neck.
“That's,” he starts, stops, then continues, “Peter, this is a lot of money. I
haven't exactly been raking in a lot of cash lately, what with actually going
to school and making good grades instead of, you know, digging graves and
stuff?”
The older man rolls his eyes and pushes Isaac toward the counter, where the
clerk has been watching them with amusement. Isaac numbly notices that instead
of the guiding hand being on his shoulder, this time, it's resting a little
lower on his back as Peter leans close, voice almost a whisper, “That's why I
said I will get it.”
Isaac quickly shuts his mouth to avoid any counter objections, even as he
watches the cashier ring up the large pile of records, a wooden crate to store
them in, and a brand new record player. He loses his breath when he hears the
total, and has to grip the counter for a second to keep himself upright,
because it's a lot more money than he had even thought. The older wolf, to his
credit, doesn't bat an eyelash, merely hands the cashier a wad of bills and
tells him to keep the change. Peter takes the crate of records and jerks his
head toward the player, indicating for Isaac to pick it up, which he does, and
they exit the shop.
Isaac can't help the momentary panic that sets in as he sees the position of
the sun in the sky, his message tone on his phone chiming at the same time, and
he balances the box in one hand to pull his phone out of his pocket. He
blanches slightly at the received message, frown tugging at the corners of his
mouth as he reads it over and over.
“I need to get back,” Isaac says softly, turning his phone to show the message
to Peter, who frowns at it as well. The older man nods after a moment, as Isaac
tucks his phone back in his pocket.
“I'll give you ride. Come on, pup,” he says gently, leading Isaac to a car
parked just little bit down the block, a black Lexus that Isaac had never seen
before. Peter pulls a set of keys out of his pocket and presses a button on the
remote, instantly unlocking the car and popping the trunk. He places the crate
of records inside before taking the record player from Isaac and placing it
beside the crate. He shuts the trunk with a soft click and moves around to the
front, opening the door and beginning to get in when he notices that Isaac
hasn't moved yet.
“Come on, pup,” he repeats, and Isaac seems to shake himself out of the daze
he's in, moving around to get in the passenger seat.
The drive back to Derek's apartment is a quiet one, and much shorter than Isaac
would prefer. When they reach the building and Peter parks, it takes some
coaxing to get Isaac out of the car. Peter helps him take the records and
player up, both deciding it would be better to take the elevator up to Derek's
floor.
Isaac has barely gotten the door open and is stepping inside with the box
cradled in his arms when Derek appears – apparently out of nowhere – and
accosts Isaac with one of those looks.
“Where the hell have you been?” Isaac shrinks back slightly, bumping into Peter
as the man approaches from behind. Avoiding Derek's gaze, the teen spots Stiles
still perched on the couch in nearly the same position as when Isaac left, arms
crossed and looking just about as irritated as Derek.
“No need to be so upset, dear nephew,” Peter taunts, nudging Isaac through the
doorway and into the apartment. The older man sets the crate of records down
just inside the door as the teen skirts his way around Derek, keeping his chin
tucked into his chest and his gaze low as he slinks towards the stairs. “I was
taking care of him.”
A low growl sounds in Derek's throat, the only warning given before he pins
Peter to the nearest wall, hand at his throat and claws out, eyes flashing red.
Isaac fumbles with the box, setting it down on the stairs before moving
forward.
“Derek,” he starts, but stops, shrinking back again when Derek glances over his
shoulder at the boy.
“Isaac, stay out of this,” he hears the growl, sees the hand tighten on Peter's
throat. The older man simply looks unimpressed.
“If you're going to tear my throat out again, I'd encourage you to hurry up and
get it over with,” Peter says as nonchalantly as he can with Derek's hand
pressing on his trachea. Derek seems to ignore the taunt, save for increasing
the pressure on his uncles' neck.
“Stay away from him,” the alpha growls, giving Peter one last look before
releasing the man and shoving him toward the door. When Peter stumbles
slightly, Isaac thinks it's only for show, but he pauses in the doorway to wave
to the younger beta, a smirk on his face.
“See you, pup,” he snarks, ignoring Derek's threatening snarl as he exits the
apartment, sliding the door shut as he goes.
It takes barely a second for Derek to round on Isaac, claws retracted but eyes
still sharply red. The teen shrinks back again, stumbling on the stairs as he
tries to put some distance between himself as his alpha.
“What were you thinking, Isaac? What if something had happened to you?” his
tone is harsh, but Isaac can hear a trace of concern under it all. Stiles
finally removes himself from the couch, closing the distance between himself
and Derek and placing a steady hand on the alpha's shoulder, giving Derek a
severe look. The alpha takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and when he opens
them again, they're a human color. Isaac realizes that he's still waiting for
an answer.
“I...he was helping me with my homework. I didn't think it was that big of a
deal,” he says softly, eyes landing on the crate of records across the room.
“Isaac,” Derek says slowly, tone softer this time, and Isaac meets his eyes. “I
don't want you getting too close to him. I don't trust him, and I don't know
what his motives are. With Erica and Boyd still gone, we can't be too careful.
Do you understand?”
Isaac nods, mulling over what his alpha is trying to tell him, but he feels a
pit of rage rising in his throat as he thinks about Erica and Boyd. He clenches
his teeth and levels his gaze on Derek, his anger keeping it steady.
“Yeah, and what about Erica and Boyd? Are you even trying to find them?” he
accuses, and it's Derek that draws back this time, surprise and frustration
contorting his features.
“Of course I am,” he shoots back sharply, but it doesn't quench Isaac's anger.
He stops, trying to form his next sentence, but can't seem to find the words.
Isaac laughs, shaking his head.
“Some alpha you are,” it comes out as almost a whisper, but he knows Derek
hears it anyway. Grabbing the box from the stairs, he trudges up them, pushing
open the door to his room with more force than necessary. He can hear Derek and
Stiles having a discussion in low tones below him as he unpacks the record
player and sets it up on top of one of the bookshelves he had brought with from
the Hale house, one full of Boyd's books. He feels his chest tighten when he
thinks about Boyd and Erica but tries to push the thoughts away.
When he returns to the lower level of the apartment, he finds Derek and Stiles
gone, and can't help but be thankful for it as he grabs his crate of records
and returns to his room. He flips through them, deciding on one and setting it
onto the player before digging through one of his boxes of belongings,
searching for the studio-style headphones that Erica had given him for his
birthday, right before she and Boyd had gone missing.
With the headphones plugged into the player, he settles in on his bed and
fiddles with his phone. He stares at the device for a long time before opening
his text conversation with Peter. He stares even longer at the conversation
before figuring out something to type.
Sorry about Derek.
He hits send, and doesn't have to wait long for the reply.
Don't apologize. He's probably right to not trust me.
-PH
Isaac frowns, begins to type a message, but is interrupted as he receives
another message from Peter.
I didn't get you into too much trouble, did I?
-PH
He erases what he had started to write, replaces it with,
I think I got myself into more trouble than you did. I told him he was a bad
alpha for not finding Erica and Boyd.
The reply comes quick, and Isaac can hear Peter's laugh, picture his smirk as
he reads it.
Ha. Wish I could have seen his face.
Have you listened to any of that music yet?
-PH
Isaac smiles a bit, leaning back into his pillows and holding his phone up over
his face as he types out his reply.
Listening to it now. Thanks for today, I mean it.
He hits send and waits for the reply, which comes slower, but he imagines a
softer smile on Peter's face as he reads it.
You're welcome. Get some sleep, pup. School tomorrow.
-PH
And Isaac falls asleep, curled up with the blanket still smelling slightly of
Peter, clutching his phone, listening to the music coming through the
headphones.
Chapter End Notes
     I'm trying NOT to turn this fic into a huge plug for all of my
     favorite music, but it's going to be pretty hard. I didn't mention
     any specific bands this chapter, but I'm sure some will come up
     sooner or later.
     So, turning Peter into a total music enthusiast...y/n? He seems like
     the type, in my opinion. Also, the only reason Peter signs 'PH' at
     the end of all of his texts is because it seems like something his
     ego would compel him to do? Maybe that's just me.
     I think it's about time for me to thank all of you who have left me
     wonderful comments and kudos on this! It's way more than I ever
     expected and I'm very grateful for the reception you guys have given
     me with this. The show will go on, I promise!
***** Touch *****
Chapter Notes
     You know when I said things were starting to pick up in the next few
     chapters? This is what I was talking about.
     Super big apologies for the really long wait on this one, guys! I
     moved at the beginning of the month (on the 31st of last month,
     actually) and just got internet set up today, so I haven't been able
     to get any new chapters up for you guys. Semi-steady updates will
     resume starting, well, now!
     Anyway, hope this one is worth the long wait. Thanks for your
     patience, kudos, comments, and general support! You guys are awesome!
     ♥
     Also, I'm gonna start adding a playlist to each chapter, so here's
     the playlist for this one! *smooches you all*
     1. Fitz & The Tantrums - House on Fire
     2. Florence + The Machine - Bedroom Hymns
     3. Daughter - Still
     4. Placebo - Where Is My Mind
The school day passes without much event, which Isaac is thankful for, seeing
as he can't really bring himself to focus through many of his classes. He
skates by on the excuse that he didn't sleep well, knowing that he won't be
able to use it again for a while, but hoping he won't have to. Throughout the
day, his focus kept creeping back to his phone in his pocket, and he found
himself checking it every few minutes, looking for a new message, but never
finding one.
By the time the final bell rings, Isaac is out the door of his classroom and
down the front steps of the school faster than he should be, pretending to be
human and all, but he can't force himself to feel guilty as he quickly darts
away into the woods, escaping the watchful gazes of Scott and Stiles, who
seemed to have been taking turns keeping an eye on him throughout the day.
Neither said much to him in any of their shared classes, and neither Lydia or
Allison seemed to notice that the two were acting little more jittery than
usual.
Finally away from the scrutinizing gaze of his friends, Isaac finds himself
moving through the woods toward the Hale house, for reasons he couldn't explain
to himself even if he tried. He knows that no one will be there, but he
supposes that's exactly the reason why. He needs some time alone, he tells
himself, especially since he's not quite ready to face Derek after the events
of the day before. The man hadn't returned to the apartment last night after
their “disagreement” (as Isaac was calling it, because he didn't want to admit
that he actually had a fight with his alpha), and wasn't there when Isaac
roused himself for school that morning.
Isaac is about twenty feet from the Hale house when he hears music. He hears
the low, wailing female voice and thinks he recognizes it from somewhere, but
he doesn't pay much attention as he moves closer to the house, honing in on the
feeling of a packmate inside. When he reaches the front steps of the house, his
wolf recognizes the presence as Peter, and he relaxes slightly as he tries the
doorknob, finding it unlocked. When he enters the house, he's hit by multiple
scents at once, the one of charred wood more strong than the others. He scents
out Peter, following the scents of smoke, coffee, and Peter's cologne which is
musky and rich. He finds the man in what was once the living room, sitting on
the floor next to a small, portable record player, a pad of paper and a pencil
in his hand. Peter doesn't look up when Isaac stops in the doorway, leaning
against the blackened frame where he watches as the man continues to sketch
furiously, eyes never leaving the paper.
He watches for a few more minutes as the sketching slows and the music stops;
the man finally puts the pencil down, raising his gaze to the teen standing
across the room from him.
“I doubt you came here to see me,” Peter remarks lightly, closing the sketch
pad as Isaac catches a glimpse of a portrait of a woman drawn in graphite.
Isaac shakes his head slowly, pushing off of the wall and moving toward the
man. He slings his backpack off of his shoulders and drops it on the floor
before sitting across from Peter, facing him, eyes falling on the record
player. Peter follows his gaze, moving the needle off of the record and picking
it up by the edges, flipping it over and sliding it into a sleeve laying on the
floor before passing it to Isaac. The teen examines the cover, eyebrow raising
slightly.
“Florence and the Machine?” he asks, a hint of incredulity in his voice. Peter
picks the pencil up from the floor and flings it at the teen in playful
warning. Isaac sets the record down with a laugh and holds his hands up in
defense. “No judgment, I'm just surprised.”
With a huff, Peter places the record into a bag laying near the player and
pulls out another, looking it over before pulling the vinyl from it's sleeve
and placing it on the turntable. Isaac reaches across the space between them
and pulls the sleeve from the man's hands, looking it over before setting it
down as Peter moves the needle to the edge of the record.
“Have you ever heard of Daughter?” Peter asks him as the first crackle sounds
from the player and it begins to play the first song on the record. Isaac
shakes his head, lips pressed shut as Peter turns a soft, half-smile in his
direction.
“I think you'll like this,” is all the older man says. They sit in silence as
the music plays, Isaac observing Peter in ways he hadn't bothered to before -
the swell of his bottom lip, the small crinkles near the corners of his eyes,
the soft line of his brow and the hard line of his jaw – he watches as Peter
darts his tongue out to wet his lips, and Isaac stares at that mouth for a long
time before bringing his gaze back up to Peter's eyes. He sees something in the
stormy blue of them, but can't identify it, even as his fingers move on their
own and Peter's gaze flickers to them and back to Isaac's face as he closes the
space between them and buries his fingers in the older man's hair at the nape
of his neck.
Isaac feels the shiver that runs through Peter as the man's eyelids flutter
slightly, and Isaac isn't sure what comes over him, but he lunges forward,
pulling Peter in with the hand on his neck as he pushes himself up and touches
the man's lips with his own. The response from Peter is instant, hands gripping
at Isaac's waist and pulling him in closer, mouth claiming his hungrily, lips
and teeth and tongue working against the teen's mouth until his lips part, and
Isaac lets Peter claim his mouth, fingers winding further into the hair at the
back of the older man's head as he tugs gently, climbing into the man's lap
without breaking the kiss. Isaac brings his other hand up, clawing gently at
the other man's shoulder, releasing it only briefly as Peter breaks the kiss
long enough to tug Isaac's shirt up over his head.
Isaac tilts his head back and moans as Peter's mouth travels from his lips,
down his jaw and neck, and settles on his collarbone, where the man nips gently
before sucking, eliciting another moan from Isaac as he feels the hickey form
and fade with equal quickness. Peter's hands are roaming his chest and sides
and back, and Isaac can only hold his head, pressing insistently when Peter's
tongue hits a spot that sends a shockwave of pleasure through him. The older
beta grinds up against him, and Isaac claws wildly at the man's shoulder,
pressing himself downward to meet the motion. Isaac feels the strong grip on
his sides move lower, grabbing at his hips and pressing him downward as Peter
grinds up again, and Isaac buries his face into the crook of Peter's neck,
whimpering against the skin there, pressing his nose into the soft spot behind
the man's ear and inhaling his scent.
On the next upward grind, he feels Peter's fangs on his shoulder, and he gasps
and claws at every inch of the man's back he can reach, shredding his shirt and
digging long lines of red into his skin in the process. Peter moans loudly
against the skin in his mouth and releases the flesh of the teen's shoulder,
moving his mouth back up the line of Isaac's neck before claiming his mouth
again, more ferocious and demanding than before, and Isaac struggles to keep up
with the steadily increasing pace of the kiss.
The rumble of a car engine startles him out of the trance he's in, and he
scrambles backwards off of Peter's lap, pulling his shirt on inside-out and
collecting his backpack as he fights his shaking knees in order to stand. He
glances at Peter, still on the floor, hands on his knees in a white-knuckled
grip, eyes locked on the floorboards in front of himself. Isaac opens his mouth
to speak, but stops when the rhythm of Stiles' footsteps approach, thundering
up the front steps and into the room, slowing to a stop.
“Hey, Isaac,” Stiles begins, but stops, gaze flickering back and forth between
the two wolves, both of which are resolutely avoiding each others' gaze. “Are
you okay? What happened?”
Isaac shakes his head, forcing out a slightly rough, “Nothing.” Stiles raises
an eyebrow at him, and Isaac can tell he is cataloging Isaac's flushed face,
pink lips, and the slight smear of blood on the shoulder of his inside-out
shirt. When the teen's gaze travels back to Peter, who still hasn't budged, his
eyes narrow slightly before he grabs Isaac by the arm.
“Let's go,” he insists, and though he doesn't have the physical strength to
force the wolf teen from the house, Isaac follows suit, glancing over his
shoulder at Peter as he disappears out the door, following Stiles to the Jeep.
They're in the car and en route to the apartment when Isaac risks a peek at
Stiles. He notes the hard line of the other teen's mouth and the set of his
jaw, and looks out the window, feeling like a child that had been caught with
his hand in the cookie jar.
They remain silent the entire way to the apartment, but when Stiles pulls into
a parking space and puts the car into park, shutting off the engine, Isaac
begins to plea.
“Don't tell Derek,” he manages pitifully before Stiles rounds on him, angrier
than he's ever seen the human before.
“Why the hell shouldn't I tell Derek? 'Hey, I kinda walked in on your beta
making out with your crazy uncle!' Yeah, he's gonna love that,” Stiles' tone is
icy and biting and it actually makes Isaac wince. “Do you have any idea what
you're getting into? I mean, did you not listen to a single thing I told you
the other day? Peter has killed people. Just because Derek slashed his throat
and he used Lydia for some freaky werewolf voodoo ritual to come back from the
dead doesn't mean that he's suddenly reformed. He's dangerous, Isaac.”
Isaac feels the rage bubble up inside again and clenches his fist on his leg,
trying to contain some of it. He picks through his thoughts before replying,
settling on, “Everyone keeps saying that, but he's never done anything to hurt
me.”
“Yeah? And how long do you think that's going to last? I swear to god, Isaac,
he's probably using you-”
“Shut up!” Stiles falls silent as the windows the Jeep rattle with Isaac's
bellowing. The young wolf swallows, clenches his jaw, and lets out a sigh.
“Just promise me you won't tell Derek.”
“Only if you tell him,” Stiles counters, giving Isaac a hard look, and the teen
frowns, shaking his head.
“I can't-”
“Then I will! And even if I don't, Scott will! We're worried about you, do you
get that?”
They fall silent again, Isaac mulling over his options. After a long minute,
Stiles gets out of the Jeep, stalking away from the vehicle and up toward the
apartment. Isaac follows, scurrying to catch up at first as they enter the
building and take the elevator in silence to the top floor.
Isaac pauses outside of the apartment, a spark of panic setting his heart rate
a high speed. Stiles stops, noticing the other teen frozen in place, and
frowns.
“What?” the human asks, not fully able to keep the hint of annoyance out of his
tone. Isaac opens his mouth, looking toward the elevator and back to the
apartment door a few times before gesturing to himself.
“Derek will smell-”
“He's not even here,” Stiles snaps, unlocking the door and sliding it open with
more force than necessary, shoving the other teen inside and slamming the door
shut again. “He went to the store a while ago and when you didn't come home
from school, I told him I'd go out to find you. You've got about ten minutes to
get cleaned up if you don't want him smelling his uncle all over you.”
Isaac drops his backpack near the door and is on the stairs, starting up,
before he turns to Stiles, who is digging through his own backpack which is
sitting on the coffee table.
“Stiles.”
“What now?” the teen snaps, looking up at Isaac, his expression still full of
irritation and a little bit of impatience.
“Thanks,” Isaac offers a small half-smile at the human before continuing up the
stairs. He grabs a change of clothes out of his room before entering the
bathroom, locking the door behind himself. He pauses to examine his reflection,
peeling the shirt off of himself and looking at the smear of dried blood on his
shoulder, not seeing any hint of the bite that Peter had placed there. With a
sigh, he turns the shower on, cranking the temperature up.
His shower is short, but long enough for him to scrub his skin roughly with his
sandalwood soap, hoping that the perfume of it would help cover up whatever is
left of Peter's scent on his skin. When he redresses and exits the bathroom, he
hears Stiles and Derek downstairs, talking softly in relaxed tones over the
quiet drone of a movie. When Isaac circles down the spiral stairs, he pauses at
the bottom to see Derek and Stiles seated close together on the couch, watching
said movie on the TV, and Stiles' hand buried in a bowl of popcorn.
When Derek's head turns slightly toward Isaac and Stiles notices him, the other
teen greets him with a, “Hey, Isaac! Nice of you to join us.”
Isaac is pleased to see the human in an apparently better mood and moves toward
the couch with caution, avoiding Derek's gaze. The alpha stands, stopping
Isaac's progress, and the younger of the two looks up at the steel blue of his
alpha's eyes.
“Isaac,” Derek rumbles, tone even, and Isaac swallows, fighting the urge to
avert his gaze, his wolf trying desperately to submit.
“Derek,” the teen counters, and the corner of the older man's mouth twitches
slightly before he huffs a small laugh, seeming to deflate slightly. Isaac
cracks a half-smile and moves around to sit on the far end of the couch, away
from where Derek re-joins Stiles.
Isaac watches the two settle in, Derek's arm slung across the back of the couch
where Stiles is sitting, neither of them apparently aware of their proximity.
When Stiles notices Isaac looking, he offers the bowl of popcorn, which Isaac
accepts, taking a few pieces before setting the bowl between them and settling
in to focus on the movie.
“So, what are we watching?” Isaac asks after a few minutes, alarmed when Derek
and Stiles both turn to look at him with raised eyebrows.
“Uh, The Princess Bride?” Stiles says, as if the answer is obvious, and Isaac
shrugs, picking a few more pieces of popcorn out of the bowl.
“Never seen it,” he replies, dropping the food into his mouth before almost
choking on it with laughter at Stiles' affronted expression.
“How? How can you have lived and never seen this movie?” Stiles sounds like
he's suffered a personal offense as he grabs for the remote, rewinding the
movie to start it from the beginning. Isaac simply shrugs in response, settling
in and watching as the film begins to play again. He reaches into his pocket,
pulling out his phone and opening his recent conversations. He feels his
heartbeat speed up slightly as he sees Peter's name, and ignores Derek's
questioning glance over the top of Stiles' head. Instead, he flips over to an
older conversation with Scott and sends the other wolf a new message.
Hey, you busy?
He sets the device to vibrate before looking back up the movie, focusing in on
it while he waits for a reply. When his phone buzzes, he picks it up quickly,
looking at the received message.
not really. whats up?
Isaac glances up at the screen where Buttercup is being announced as
Humperdink's bride-to-be, then looks at Derek and Stiles, who seem to have
gotten even more comfortable. He looks back at his phone and types out a reply.
Wanna hang out? I think Derek and Stiles need some alone time.
When Scott sends him another reply, Isaac has to hold back a laugh when he
looks at it.
???
He discreetly snaps a picture of the two on the other end of the couch, nearly
snuggling at this point, and sends it to Scott with the words 'Save me!' typed
out underneath. This time when Scott replies, Isaac actually does laugh.
on my way!!!
He lets himself get absorbed in the movie while he waits, chuckling a little at
the puns and jokes in the script and pointedly ignoring the little whisper fest
going on at the opposite end of the couch. When the door to the apartment
slides open and Stiles and Derek turn to look, Scott waves at the two with a
small grin.
“Hey guys,” he greets, slipping his shoes off next to the door and holding up
his backpack. “Just came by to study with Isaac.”
Isaac knits his eyebrows together slightly, looking confused for a moment
before letting a look of dawning realization cross his face.
“Oh man, I totally forgot we were going to work on that English paper
together!” he jumps up from the couch, moving toward the stairs with Scott
close behind him, waving to the two on the couch. “Sorry guys, I'll watch the
rest later.”
As the two disappear up the stairs, Stiles settles back in against Derek's
side, picking the bowl of popcorn back up and grumbling, “Fucking weirdos.”
***** Family *****
Chapter Notes
     Hey guys! Sorry for the slow update on this one! I don't have much of
     an excuse other than I've been sick lately, and the finale of season
     3A depressed me so bad that I just couldn't write! FEELS.
     We're catching up to the beginning of S3 soon, where we will take a
     slight divergence from canon. Don't worry, I think you'll all dig it.
     ;3
     Playlist for this chapter:
     1. Metric - Youth Without Youth
     2. Alabama Shakes - I Found You
     3. Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros - Better Days
     4. Hugh Laurie - Unchain My Heart
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Scott stops just inside Isaac's room as the taller teen gravitates toward the
record player and crate of vinyl on the floor beside it, flipping through
sleeves and sleeves of music. Scott notices that the music seems to be the
focal point of Isaac's room, since the other wolf hasn't done much in the way
of decorating and doesn't seem to have the intent to.
“Where did all of that come from?” Scott asks curiously as he finally steps
into the room, closing the door behind himself as he moves to lean over Isaac's
shoulder. Isaac fumbles a bit at the question, fingers skipping over a few
albums, and Scott tilts his head at his friend.
“Peter bought it for me,” Isaac mumbles, knowing that Scott can hear him, and
notices how the other teen stiffens slightly behind him at the mention of
Peter. Scott has the decency to not say anything, despite the fact that Isaac
can hear him grinding his teeth behind him, and that's almost as bad. Isaac
takes his time selecting a record – Metric, he decides, since the album cover
was interesting – before turning around and flopping down onto his bed next to
Scott, who has made himself comfortable and pulled his backpack into his lap,
sifting through papers and notebooks and textbooks. Isaac perks up slightly at
this.
“Are we actually going to study?” Scott gives Isaac a half-smile and shrug,
pulling a textbook and a battered notebook out of the mess.
“Why not? I mean, I was doing homework before I came to rescue you,” he pauses
while he digs around for a pen, continuing after he's succeeded in finding one.
“I figured we could do this for a while and then find something else to do?”
“Yeah, no problem,” Isaac concedes easily enough, rolling over to grab his
backpack, hand swiping at air before he remembers where he dropped his bag that
afternoon. “Uh. Actually, I left my backpack downstairs. Give me a minute,
alright?”
Scott nods, cracking open his text book to a spot that has several pages
stuffed into one spot, some of them falling out as he lays the book down on
Isaac's bed and opens his notebook. Isaac slips out of his room and down the
stairs almost silently, glancing in the direction of the television as he
reaches the front door and grabs his backpack. Stiles and Derek are still
situated comfortably on the couch, Derek's arm over the back of the couch
behind Stiles, the teen's feet curled under him on the cushions, and they're
sharing the bowl of popcorn while Stiles quotes the movie, delivering every
line in perfect time with the actors.
He sees Derek glance over his shoulder in his direction, and he holds the
backpack up as signal, earning a nod from the alpha before his attention is
drawn back to the film. With a shake of his head, Isaac ducks back up the
stairs, shutting the door again as he practically throws himself down onto his
bed, jostling Scott's book and papers. The darker-haired teen doesn't seem too
bothered by this, though, just re-organizes them as he watches Isaac pull his
own work out of his backpack.
“They've gotten even worse,” Isaac announces as he drops the bag to the floor
and lays out his own book and notes across from Scott. Scott looks at him
blankly for a minute before Isaac gestures to the floor, and Scott wrinkles his
nose a little, laughing a small laugh.
“As long as they're not down there making out when I leave...” Scott jokes, but
Isaac can hear a hint of wariness in his tone, which only makes him laugh.
“Anyway, how far have you gotten on the mythology paper for English?”
Isaac looks down at his notes, flipping a few pages. “Well, I got an idea of
what myth I want to use, but I'm not sure how I'm going to write a paper about
it,” he replies honestly, flipping through his notes a bit more before passing
them over to Scott. Scott gives them a once-over, nodding as he reads a few
lines, before passing them back. Isaac looks at the notebook resting beside
Scott's textbook and asks, “What about you?”
Scott glances down at his book with a sheepish grin and a shrug. “I've been
having a hard time picking one. I mean, there are a lot of myths and all of
them are used for different things. At first I was thinking about using one of
the epics, you know, the golden fleece or something, but...”
He trails off with another shrug and Isaac nods, chewing the end of his pencil
in thought. They both stare aimlessly in thought a bit more, struggling with
the assignment, before Isaac laughs and throws his pencil down. “You know,
we're kind of not getting anywhere.” Scott laughs out an agreement and the two
quickly pack up their homework, deciding instead to play a game.
They're halfway through a very close race in Mario Kart when they both perk up
at the sound of the door to the loft sliding open, then shut. They look at each
other for a long moment before both are scrambling off the bed and out of
Isaac's room, Isaac in the lead as he peeks over the rail of the spiral stairs,
spotting...nothing. The TV is off and Derek and Stiles have both vacated the
couch – and the apartment, it would appear – and Isaac turns back to Scott with
a shrug.
“Guess Derek is driving him home?” Scott tries, and Isaac shakes his head,
brows furrowing as they finish the circle down the stairs to the main floor.
“Stiles drove here,” Isaac says, trying not to trip over the words as he
remembers why exactly Stiles drove to the loft – and where he had found Isaac
just before.
Scott just shrugs again, flopping down onto the now empty couch. “Maybe they
just went out for ice cream.”
“Ice cream? What are you, four?” Isaac mocks with a laugh, flopping himself
down onto the other side of the couch, grinning across at Scott. The darker-
haired teen tosses a throw pillow at him, which Isaac catches easily, grinning
out from behind it at his friend.
“Okay, so I'm just trying to pretend like my best friend and Derek aren't
secretly...dating, or something,” Scott admits, sounding slightly perturbed
that he's even being made to think about this. Isaac nods a little, moving the
throw pillow behind his head and leaning back into it. “I mean, Stiles smells
like Derek almost constantly now, it's a little weird, and-”
Scott stops, looking over at Isaac, who is fiddling with the hem of his own
shirt. He looks up at Scott, alarmed by the others' sudden silence.
“Speaking of smells...” Scott begins, trailing off and looking expectantly at
Isaac. The teen squirms slightly, scowling across the space at Scott.
“What,” he mumbles, obviously not up for this conversation. Scott sighs and
runs a hand back through his hair.
“Look, man, I know that you...you've been hanging out with Peter,” he starts,
and Isaac growls, sitting up suddenly. Scott quickly waves his hands in a sign
of defense. “Which is fine! I guess. I mean, I'm worried about you because he's
not exactly the sanest guy around here? But if Derek's too busy or whatever...”
Scott sighs again, picking at his nails now. Isaac settles back into the couch,
posture still stiff and defensive as he watches his friend.
“If you need someone to talk to, you know you can talk to me, right? I mean,
I'd rather you talk to me than Peter, especially since we're still not really
sure what he's up to.” When Scott looks up at Isaac, he has the most puppy-dog
look Isaac has ever seen on another person, gaze pleading, mouth drawn into a
thin line mirroring the concern written all over his face. Isaac sighs and
looks down, picking at the hem of his shirt again.
“I know,” he starts, then swallows and tries again, “I know you guys keep
saying he's dangerous-”
“Because he is.” Scott insists. Isaac ignores him.
“But it's kind of annoying when you guys keep giving me the same lecture over
and over again. I mean, yeah Peter and I had coffee the other day and he helped
me with my homework. He bought me some music to help me study,” Isaac weaves
the white lie while he's talking, admitting that Peter bought him the records,
but still being kind of unsure as to why. “But he's never done anything aside
from try to help me. I really wish you guys could see that.”
Scott looks like he's contemplating this, really letting the information sink
in unlike Stile had earlier, or any time Isaac had talked to him about the
situation. Isaac watches as Scott sighs, runs his hand through his hair again,
and opens his mouth to talk just as the metal door of the loft scrapes open
again. Both teens look up to see Derek and Stiles entering the apartment,
Stiles holding a drink tray filled with DQ Blizzards, and Scott instantly
cracks a grin at Isaac, nudging the other with his foot.
“Ice cream,” he says, and Isaac shoves back.
“Four-year-old,” he mocks back in the same tone.
“Hey guys!” Stiles says, approaching the couch with a grin. He takes two
blizzards from the tray and holds the remaining two out to Scott, who takes the
tray and immediately sniffs his out, plucking it from the tray and passing the
last one over to Isaac, who takes it and removes the lid curiously. Stiles
leans against the back of the couch, folding his arms across it and shoving a
large spoonful of ice cream into his mouth, chewing large chunks of peanut
butter cup.
“We didn't know what you wanted,” Derek explains, grabbing his ice cream from
Stiles before moving to the other couch and laying across it.
“So we got you Butterfinger,” Stiles finishes with a grin, before shoving
another spoonful into his mouth. Isaac can't help the grin that splits his
face, the feeling of safety and happiness surging in his chest at being
surrounded by friends and pack. The four finish their ice cream with casual
conversation, accompanied by Stiles continually trying and failing to catch
Derek by surprise and wipe a little ice cream across the Alpha's nose.
It isn't long after all the ice cream is gone and the living room is tidied up
that Scott and Stiles say goodnight, letting themselves out, and Isaac drags
himself back upstairs to his room, collapsing on his bed without closing the
door or changing clothes. He's rolling over to wrap himself up into a blanket
when Derek appears in the doorway, and Isaac lets himself feel a little proud
over the fact that he didn't jump or show his surprise. He curls his arm under
his pillow as he looks up at his alpha, feeling the most relaxed he has in a
long time.
“I'm going to go look for Erica and Boyd,” Derek tells him without any
conversation openers. Isaac sits up a little, looking at Derek more intensely
than before.
“I want to come with,” he says immediately, no doubt in his mind, but Derek is
already shaking his head before the words are even halfway out.
“Absolutely not. You have school tomorrow. I should be back by the time you get
home,” he adds the extra part, and it's a strange statement of domesticity
coming from Derek that makes Isaac's chest tighten a little bit. Like they're a
real family. They stare each other down for a long time before Isaac nods his
agreement and Derek bids him goodnight, flipping the light switch and shutting
the door.
Isaac lets himself lay his head down on his pillow, listening to the rustle of
clothes across the hall and Derek changes, then the footsteps on the stairs as
he descends onto the main floor, and finally the opening and closing of the
metal door to the loft. Isaac lays there for a long time, listening to the
creaking, settling wood of the loft, the distant ambient noises of the city,
all of the little delicate sounds that his wolf hearing can pick up, before it
all becomes too much for him.
Using his phone as a flashlight, he selects a record from the crate at the foot
of his bed – something “bluesy”, he remembers Peter saying – and puts it on
before he lays down again, focusing on the music instead of the little noises
that drive him insane. He's about to put his phone down for the night, but he
opens his conversation with Peter instead. He types out a quick and simple
“Goodnight” before hitting send. He stares at his phone until the light dims
and the screen finally goes black, then sets it down next to his pillow. He
falls asleep with his hand curled around the device, and is vaguely aware right
before he drifts to sleep that he never gets a reply.
Chapter End Notes
     Got any ideas for playlist music? Tell me here or submit a link here.
     Love you guys! ♥
***** Nightmare *****
Chapter Notes
     Hints of claustrophobia in this chapter, as well as panic attacks and
     Peter being a fucking jerk.
     Sorry this took so long, you guys! I hit a wall for a while there and
     took a much-needed break (which included a mini, weekend vacation to
     Colorado!! yay!) to work on cosplay and some other stuff.
     But I'm back and ready for action!
     Soundtrack for this chapter is as follows:
     1. Man Man - Loot my Body
     2. Funeral Suits - Hands Down
     3. Brand New - Gasoline
     4. MYPET - Pays To Know
     5. LEGS - There's A Sadness In My Heart
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Isaac wakes up with a start at four in the morning, according to the glowing
numbers of his alarm clock. He's tangled in his blankets, heart beating wildly,
and very aware of how alone he is at that moment. Fumbling for his phone, he
grabs it and texts the first person on his list – it's still Peter, who has not
responded to his goodnight text, he notes – before grabbing his blanket and
moving across the hall into Derek's room. The alpha's bed is empty and rumpled,
blankets and pillows curled into more of a nest than an actual bed, and Isaac
gravitates toward it, attempting to find a source of comfort. He curls up in
the midst of the blankets and pillows, wrapping himself up in his own blanket
as well as one of Derek's, the scent of his alpha calming him slightly as he
recovers from his nightmare.
He falls asleep again, still waiting for a reply from Peter. When he wakes
again, he's late for school and Derek is still no where to be found. He takes
his time getting ready and skips breakfast before leaving the loft and walking
the few miles to school at a brisk pace.
It's only the middle of his second class by the time Isaac gets to school, and
he makes sure to stop by the attendance office to fill out the proper slip
indicating that he over slept, just to cover his bases. He hurries to his
English class and avoids Scott's gaze as he slips into the seat beside him,
pulling out his text book to follow along with the reading. A few minutes into
following the words on the page, he feels a nudge on his ankle and looks down,
following the offending foot up to Scott, who is looking at him with an
expression of mild panic.
“Are you okay? Where were you?” He hisses across the space, and Isaac glances
at the teacher to make sure she's not paying attention before he replies.
“Overslept. Derek went out looking for Erica and Boyd last night, I haven't
heard from him yet, but he said he'd be back before school got out today,”
Isaac replies with a small shrug, looking and feeling unsure. He has no reason
to worry about Derek, other than the pack of alphas roaming around town, which
is more like several, really good reasons if he's being honest with himself.
The corners of Scott's mouth turn down in a small frown as he processes this
information, tapping the end of his pencil against his notebook. Isaac watches
as he takes out his phone and types a quick message, sending it off before he
turns back to their conversation.
“He went alone?” Scott whispers, and Isaac nods, lips pulling together tightly,
because he's fairly certain that even though he hasn't heard from Peter since
the day before that the older man isn't exactly jumping at the chance to help
Derek find his lost betas. Scott's frown deepens, but he doesn't say anything
else to Isaac for the rest of class, just types a few messages on his phone
occasionally and half-focuses on the teacher.
When the bell rings for the end of class, they still don't speak to each other,
just walk together until Isaac has to go to History and Scott to Math. They
reconvene at lunch, where Isaac learns that Scott has been texting Stiles, who
doesn't say much past an uncharacteristically quiet “hello” and proceeds to
push his food around his plate instead of actually eating. When Stiles gets up
to throw his uneaten food away, Isaac asks Scott about their friends' silence;
he tells Isaac that Stiles is just mad that Derek didn't tell his plans to
anyone else, and leaves it at that.
The school day seems to crawl by, and Isaac nearly jumps out of his skin at the
last bell, rushing out of the building and fighting the urge to get down on all
fours and run back to the loft. He declines every offer for a ride home and
walks, forcing himself to take his time, ignoring the weight that has settled
in his stomach and is worrying at his nerves. He tries to shake the feeling
that something isn't right, but can't seem to; it gets worse the closer he gets
to the loft, and he finds himself increasing his pace despite his best efforts.
By the time he reaches the building, he's running – at a human speed, at least
– and he takes the stairs three at a time up to their floor. When he slides the
door open, he feels the weight in his stomach grow hot, angry, and he rushes
into the apartment, but he already knows it's empty. He tosses his backpack
aside and sinks down onto the couch, pulling out his phone to text Scott. He
begins to type the message, then gives up and dials the teen's number instead.
Scott picks up on the second ring. “Isaac, what's wrong?”
“He's not here,” Isaac feels distant, separated from himself as he says it. He
watches his fingers curl and uncurl where his hand is resting otherwise limply
on his lap.
Scott's silence is almost tangible, and when he speaks again after a long
minute, it's with forced optimism in his tone. “Maybe he's still looking. Just
give him some more time, Isaac, I'm sure he'll be fine.”
“Yeah,” Isaac agrees with no feeling, tilting his head back to look up at the
ceiling. He takes a deep breath and holds it until spots start to form in his
vision. He says again, “Yeah, you're right. Sorry to bother you.”
He hangs up before the teen can say anything else and falls sideways on the
couch, pillowing his head on his arm and closing his eyes. He can't force
himself to believe what he says, not like Scott can, so he lets himself go to
sleep, thinking about Derek, Boyd, and Erica, with only the smallest hopes that
they're all safe.
When he wakes again, the light coming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows
is not sunlight, but the cold florescent of the streetlights outside. He sits
up slowly, rolling his shoulders to work out the stiffness in his muscles. He
checks his phone, hoping for some kind of update from Derek, or a message from
Peter, and sees nothing. He opens the message he began typing to Scott earlier
about Derek's whereabouts - that he still is not back - and sends it before
pocketing his phone and stretching his arms far above his head.
“Isaac,” the voice startles him into shifting momentarily as he whips around on
the couch, facing the doorway into the kitchen. He sees Peter, back-lit by the
kitchen lights, and shifts back, settling back onto the couch in the same
motion.
“What are you doing here?” He asks, suspicion and wariness in his tone. Peter
hears this and stays where he is, putting his hands into his pockets with a
weak shrug.
“Making dinner,” he says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and
Isaac can't help but relax a little, even while knowing that Derek is still not
back. He moves off of the couch and takes a few steps toward Peter, but stops
when he sees the subtle tensing in the man's shoulders that indicates he should
not move any closer. They stand there like that, just looking at each other for
a long minute, before Peter turns toward the kitchen. “Come eat.”
Isaac follows him into the kitchen and takes a seat at the table, where the
older man has already laid out a place for him, a steaming plate of pan-fried
chicken and rice, with a mug of hot chocolate sitting beside it. He begins to
eat, ignoring Peter as he dishes up his own plate and takes a seat directly
across from Isaac, keeping some distance between them. They eat in silence and
without looking at each other, Isaac only bothering to look up once his plate
has been cleared and his mug of hot chocolate emptied. Peter doesn't meet his
gaze, only sweeps the dishes away and into the sink, where he leaves them
instead of washing them. Isaac is standing from his seat and moving toward the
doorway when Peter turns, leaning back against the counter, and locks his gaze
on the teen.
“We need to talk,” he begins, and Isaac barely controls the urge or snort a
laugh at the words, only stopped because of the pit of twisting unease that has
begun again in his stomach.
“What if I don't want to talk?” Isaac attempts, voice soft as he shifts his
gaze down to where Peter's hands are gripping the edge of the counter. Peter
sighs and crosses his arms over his chest, and Isaac follows the motion of his
hands, watching them tuck beneath his elbows, remembering how they grasped at
him only the day before.
“I kind of figured you wouldn't want to, but unfortunately, it's necessary,”
Peter assures him, his tone still light, although laced with the threat of
serious discussion. Isaac tries to swallow the lump that has formed in his
throat, but finds that his mouth is suddenly dry.
“If you're going to say that it was a mistake, I don't want to hear it,” he
tries to sound confident, but he just sounds defeated, gaze lingering on the
man's shoes now instead of anywhere conceivably near his face. Peter's stance
shifts slightly, feet spreading wider apart, and Isaac keeps his focus on them,
even though he expects the older man is trying to make eye contact.
“But it was a mistake, Isaac. It never should have happened, and I regret that
I did not have enough control over myself enough to stop it from happening in
the first place,” Peter's voice is low and soft, as if speaking to someone who
is unstable or damaged. Isaac reminds himself that he is at least one of those
things as he tugs at his shirt sleeves, gaze shifting across the shining tiles
of the kitchen floor.
“Fine, whatever,” he concedes half-heartedly, hoping that it will make the man
stop talking. He doesn't want to have this conversation, doesn't want to think
about what happened between them, just wants it to happen again. Peter huffs a
sigh and shifts again, stance becoming less defensive as he moves his feet
closer together and his arms drop back down to his sides.
“Isaac, I'm serious,” this time Peter sounds defeated, and Isaac can't help but
steal a glance at the man's face. He looks weary, exhausted, and not anything
like what Isaac is used to. He looks almost pleading when he adds, “It can't
happen again.”
Isaac forces a nod before turning quickly and escaping the suddenly small
kitchen. He moves across the living room slowly and numbly, up the stairs and
into his room. He puts on a record, sits on his bed, and finally lets in the
air he's been keeping out since he left the kitchen. He breathes deep and tries
to sigh, but the exhale catches in his throat and a torn and ragged noise comes
out with it. When he reaches up to scrub at his face, he realizes that his
cheeks are wet and wipes at them angrily, upset with himself for crying
over...over what? Over a kiss that never should have happened.
He lays down without changing clothes and is asleep before he can think about
anything else.
Isaac wakes up again sometime in the night, breath caught in his throat, claws
tearing at his bedsheets, skin, anything within his reach. His vision is
darkened and blurred, and he gasps for air but can't seem to pull any in. He is
tearing at his chest with a handful of sharpened, blood-stained claws when
another hand grabs his and wrenches it away from his body.
He comes back to himself in pieces; first he sucks in a breath of cold air,
which he releases in a choked sob. He feels the hand gripping his wrist, and
one stroking through his sweat-soaked hair. He feels the body pressed against
his from behind, the steady rise and fall of their chest as they breathe, the
rhythmic beating of their heart. When Isaac opens his eyes, he is in his room
in Derek's loft, not in the freezer that he occupied in his dream, and he lets
out another sob, fingers curling around the hand gripping his own.
“Shh, it's okay, pup, it's over,” Peter's breath tickles his ear, and he leans
heavily back against the man, unable to keep himself from shivering. The
stroking in his hair doesn't stop, but Peter gently releases his wrist, pulling
the shredded covers over his legs and up to his chest. Isaac doesn't fight it,
just lets himself lean back against the body in his bed, breathing deeply and
trying to calm his tears.
They sit like this for long enough that Isaac feels himself not only calm, but
also start to doze off again. When Peter shifts behind him, he wakes instantly,
eyes opening in panic as he grabs for the other man's hands where they are
locked around his waist. “No,” it's barely more than a breath, but Isaac
already feels the panic washing over him again. “Don't go.”
Peter stills, moving only to lift a hand to stroke through Isaac's hair again.
He smooths the hair back from the teen's forehead in a long, continued motion
until Isaac is completely asleep and for a while afterward, until Peter feels
himself drift off to sleep as well.
Chapter End Notes
     I'm still taking suggestions for music on my Tumblr, here and here.
     Thanks to jjjat3am for suggesting Gasoline by Brand New, which was
     featured in this chapter. More suggested music will be featured in
     up-coming chapters, as well!
     Sorry for the short chapter today, but I promise more is coming, and
     some more of my favorite characters are soon to be making
     appearances, so...yay! Excitement!
***** Miguel *****
Chapter Notes
     Surprise! A double-upload for your patience. You guys are awesome,
     and you deserve so much better than my sporadic updates.
     I'm probably most proud of this chapter out of any of the others so
     far. I love Danny, goodness.
     Playlist:
     1. The Jungle Giants - Don't Know What Else To Do
     2. Elektrik People - Make Me A Bird
     3. Teen - Come Back
     4. Arctic Monkeys - Do I Wanna Know?
     5. Bastille - Daniel in the Den
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Isaac is the first to wake in the morning, eyes fighting to open against the
sunlight streaming in through his window. He tries to roll over but finds that
he can't, the solid weight behind him extending into an arm draped gently over
his waist, and he stops moving abruptly, processing this situation. His lack of
movement seems to jostle the other man, though, and Peter nuzzles into the nape
of Isaac's neck, tightening his grip for a moment before waking fully and,
seeming to realize his actions, pulling away completely. Both are still and
silent for a minute before Isaac sits up, looking down at the floor.
“What is it?” Peter asks, sitting up beside him and following his gaze, and a
small frown forms on Isaac's face.
“I woke up because I heard something,” he answers softly, and it's true. The
initial thing that startled him from sleep was a sound on the lower floor of
the loft, but there's nothing now. He waits a moment before shrugging and
standing to stretch, yawning as he does so. “Guess I was just imagining it.”
Peter looks like he's about to say something in the exact moment that there is
another indistinguishable sound from downstairs, and they look at each other,
frozen. A second later, Isaac hears a foot land on the lowest step of the
stairs, and Scott's voice calling up them, “Isaac? Are you here?”
The teen hurriedly changes shirts, hoping to look like he didn't sleep in
whatever he wore to school the day before, and rushes to open his bedroom door
just as soon as Scott reaches the top of the stairs. “Hey, yeah, I'm here.
What's up?” He plays ignorant to the shifting expression on Scott's face, first
relief, then suspicion and something else as he spots Peter, who is still
sitting in Isaac's bed.
“Derek's not back yet,” Scott tells him, turning his gaze away from the older
man in the room and setting his mouth into a hard line. “Stiles wants to use
the GPS tracker on his phone, but we don't know his password. Do you have any
ideas?” Isaac shakes his head mutely, and only stiffens a little as he feels
Peter approach from behind him, framing them in the doorway by putting a hand
on either side of the frame.
“Let's move this little pow-wow downstairs, boys,” he nudges Isaac gently in
the back of the knee with his own, and the teen practically jumps forward,
almost bumping into Scott on his way past his friend and down the stairs. Scott
stares at Peter for another minute, waiting for him to go down the stairs as
well, before the older man huffs out a sigh of irritation and follows Isaac. On
the main floor of the apartment, Stiles is sitting at the table with his
laptop, facing the open room and typing rapidly in a window, cursing
occasionally. Isaac moves toward the table and ignores when Peter brushes past
him on his way to the kitchen. Scott joins him a second later, putting a hand
on his shoulder and bringing him closer to the table as Stiles looks up with an
expression of grim determination.
“Hey, Isaac,” he greets without much feeling, and the teen nods in reply. “I'm
guessing no one here has any idea what the password might be to get into
Derek's GPS tracker?”
“No clue,” the curly-haired teen sits across from Stiles at the table, resting
his chin on his hands. Scott stands to the side and watches the kitchen, arms
folded across his chest, feet spread wide, and Isaac tries not to look directly
at him, not wanting to see the expression he's wearing. Stiles swears and goes
back to typing, stopping again only a minute later when Peter returns from the
kitchen with two cups of coffee, passing one to Isaac silently and keeping the
other for himself. Stiles looks between them, the corners of his mouth
twitching in a frown, hands continuously moving as he tugs at his shirt collar,
the strings of his hoodie, raking his fingers through his hair. Isaac sets his
mug down after taking a long drink, and Stiles reaches for it, only to have his
hand gently slapped away by Peter.
“Ow!” Stiles cradles his hand to himself, mostly for dramatics, and scowls at
Peter with the most loathing Isaac has ever seen in his expression. Peter
stares back, eyebrows canted upwards in a mockery of amusement.
“Guys, come on,” Scott speaks for the first time since they came downstairs,
and Isaac finally turns his gaze on to him. “We're not getting anywhere with
this, and for all we know, Derek could be in serious trouble right now.”
Isaac picks up his coffee mug, holding it with both hands and swirls the
contents gently as he nods, biting his lip. “But we don't know how to find
him.”
“Stiles, if you can't get Derek's password, can't you hack the system?” Scott
turns to his best friend, who has dropped both of his hands to the table,
fingers bouncing across the surface in an impatient scatter.
“Yeah, maybe, if I had like a ton of time,” he waves a hand in a meaningless
gesture before scrubbing his fingers over his scalp again. Isaac idly notes
that his hair has gotten longer, but considers that's a conversation for when
his alpha isn't possibly in mortal danger, and takes another drink of his
coffee. They sit in silence for another minute, Stiles bouncing his knee
against the underside of the table, before he snaps his fingers and points at
Scott. “Danny.”
Scott's eyebrows nearly rocket into his hairline. “You think Danny could help
us?” Stiles is already digging for his phone, fumbling it as he attempts to
dial.
“Yeah, he's great at this stuff,” he doesn't give any more explanation, as he's
already bringing the phone to his ear, bouncing impatiently. “Come on, Danny,
pick up...”
Isaac moves to take another drink of his coffee, but finds the mug empty, and
Peter slips it out of his hand gently, leaving for the kitchen again. Isaac
rests his chin on his hand, then sits up a moment later when Peter returns with
a full mug for him, at the same time that Stiles slams his hand down on the
table, making the three wolves jump.
“Danny! Hey, man, how are ya? Look I know it's early and-...school? Yeah, no, I
know I'm not at school, dude,” Stiles winces. “Sorry, I know. Look, it's just I
really need your help with something. Yes, right now.”
He bites his lip and pats his hand against the table. “I know, and I will owe
you my life, dude, but come on, I really need- You will? Oh sweet, thank you,
oh my god.” Isaac listens as Stiles relays the address to Danny before hanging
up, and Stiles stands from his chair, bouncing a little. Isaac simply continues
to drink his coffee and watches the other teen go to town, trying to burn off
some of his excess energy.
Ten minutes later, after Isaac and Peter have burned through an entire pot of
coffee, Scott has finally taken a seat and Stiles is bouncing around the loft
animatedly. Scott watches his friend with barely concealed exhaustion, even as
he darts to open the door when a knock resonates on the metal sheeting. Danny
enters the apartment with his backpack slung over his shoulder and shoots
Stiles a withering look as the hyperactive teen attempts to thank him
repeatedly.
“I just want you to know I'm skipping class for this, so I hope it's
important,” Danny automatically sets his bag onto the table and begins to
unpack his laptop. Scott sits forward and makes eye contact with his fellow
lacrosse player.
“It is important, I promise,” Scott swears, and Danny surveys him for a minute
before nodding and booting up his computer. In the time that it takes to start
up, he takes a seat and surveys the loft carefully, eyes lingering on Peter who
is lounging on the couch across the room, before turning to Isaac.
“Hey, Isaac,” he greets with a curious tone, fingers dancing across the
keyboard as he types in a password and finishes loading the system the rest of
the way. Isaac nods in greeting, not trusting his voice. Stiles comes to linger
over Danny's shoulder, and begins explaining in the most vague way possible.
“So, we need to find a phone using it's GPS tracker but we don't know the
password,” Stiles explains, and Danny types something, nodding a little.
“Who's phone is it?”
“Who's phone is it?” Stiles parrots, looking between Danny and Scott. “Uh, my
cousin's.” Danny raises an eyebrow.
“Miguel?” he asks, and types something else, corner of his mouth turning up in
a smirk. Stiles nods too enthusiastically.
“That's the one,” he makes a gesture in response to Scott's confused expression
behind Danny's back. “He's, uh, really bad at keeping track of his belongings,
and he lost his phone last night while he was at a party, but he was so
hammered he doesn't remember where the party was at.”
Danny doesn't look convinced, but doesn't challenge anything Stiles tells him,
much to Isaac's amusement. Instead, he asks, “What's the phone number?”
“What?” Stiles stops mid-rant, looking at Danny. The darker-haired teen rolls
his eyes.
“The phone number? Of the phone you want to find?”
“Oh, right,” Stiles pulls out his phone and scrolls through the contact list,
finding the correct number. When he gets it pulled up, he hands the phone over
to Danny so he can copy it into whatever program he's using. After a minute, he
passes the phone back to Stiles.
“It says here that the phone belongs to someone named Derek Hale,” Danny's tone
is incredulous now as he looks over his shoulder at Stiles. “Not Miguel.”
“Uh,” Stiles starts, “Miguel is actually his nickname, see-”
“You said he didn't speak English,” Danny turns completely around to face
Stiles now, arms crossing over his chest. “You said he wasn't from his
country.”
Stiles swears, gesturing to the computer behind the other teen. “Does it say
where the phone is or not?”
“You know, I ignore a lot of the weird stuff that you guys are into,” Danny
says, patience waning, “I even ignored the weird stuff that Jackson asked me to
do for him last year, but you're going to have to tell me what all this is
about eventually.”
Stiles looks like he's ready to break down, completely at a loss, and looks at
Scott for help. Scott only shakes his head. Isaac does the same when Stiles'
gaze turns on him, copying Scott's gesture, and Stiles sighs.
“Danny, I promise you, I will explain everything to you if you just tell us
where that phone is,” he pleads, and Danny must see the desperation in his
face, because he turns back to the computer and types a few things.
“Says it's at Beacon Hills First National Bank,” he reads, eyebrow raising.
“Which is not only a weird place for a party, but that branch has been closed
for ages.”
Stiles bounces, looking to Scott who is already on his feet, and Isaac follows
suit. He turns his attention back to Danny, who is folding up his laptop and
stuffing it away into his backpack again. “Thank you, Danny, I owe you one man-
”
“Stiles,” he cuts off, eyebrows raising expectantly, and Stiles almost
whimpers, looking between Scott and Isaac who are already standing by the door,
and Danny, who is waiting for his promised explanation.
“Later, Danny, I swear, but right now I really have to-”
“You stay,” Peter says, speaking for the first time that morning as he rises
from the couch. “I'll go with to make sure they stay out of trouble.”
“Like that makes me feel any better,” Stiles snipes bitterly, pointing an
accusing finger at Peter. “You're staying here where I can keep an eye on you.”
Peter's eyes flash blue for a second, and Stiles takes a step back. “Do you
really want to try to stop me? Old issues aside, Derek is my family.”
Stiles opens his mouth to argue in return, but Scott interrupts from the
doorway, “Guys, do you really think right now is the best time for this
conversation? Stiles, you stay with Danny. Peter's coming with us.”
Stiles takes a seat at the table, avoiding Danny's expectant gaze, and watches
Scott, Isaac, and Peter disappear out the door.
“So,” Danny starts, tapping a finger on the tabletop to get Stiles' attention.
“You can start with Miguel, and whoever that guy was.”
Stiles rubs a hand across his face and lets out a frustrated groan.
Chapter End Notes
     As always, feel free to drop me suggestions for music in my ask_box
     or submissions on Tumblr!
     I haven't written Danny before so I was a little nervous about this
     chapter, but he'll be making more appearances! So if I did well,
     please let me know, or if I need improvement, let me know that as
     well. I want to make sure I'm writing him correctly before I bring
     him back around in later chapters.
***** The Challenge *****
Chapter Notes
     Let me begin by saying I am SO, SO SORRY for leaving you guys hanging
     for this long. I've had a LOT of personal issues over the past few
     months that I've been struggling with, the biggest being my
     depression. It's taken me a lot of effort to pull myself back into a
     creative mood, but I'm starting to get there again.
     Again, I apologize sincerely for making you all wait so long for this
     chapter. I tried to make it extra long for the wait, but I found a
     good place to stop it and cut it short. I've already got another one
     in the works, so don't worry about waiting too long for the next one.
     Here's your playlist this time around:
     1. IAMX - Come Home
     2. The Hoosiers - Clinging On For Life
     3. The Beatles - With A Little Help From My Friends
     4. The Cranberries - Carry On
     5. The Neighbourhood - Staying Up
     There's more texting at the end of this chapter than anything else,
     and some parts may seem a bit rushed. I hope you enjoy, regardless!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Isaac finds that the trip to Beacon Hills First National Bank is long and
filled with awkward silence as he and Peter avoid each others' gaze, and Isaac
tries to avoid Scott's as well just for good measure. The trip itself isn't
long, it just seems that way, so when they arrive outside of the locked front
doors, Scott stops and turns to the other two.
“Okay, the plan is to get Derek, Erica, and Boyd out safely. We'll split up-”
“Um,” Peter interrupts, raising a hand and waving it a bit to get Scott's
attention. It works, but the other teen looks mildly irritated. “Some of us
aren't exactly strong enough on our own to take on an alpha.”
“So don't take an any of the alphas,” Scott warns, looking between them for a
minute. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I guess splitting up would
be a pretty bad idea, anyway. We should stick together. Power in numbers,
right?”
“Isn't it 'safety in numbers'?” Isaac throws out, he can't help it. He digs his
hands into his pockets when Scott ignores him in favor of busting the padlock
keeping the doors chained shut. They survey the area briefly to make sure it's
clear before Scott leads them inside. The lack of light inside is a huge
contrast from outside, where the sun is trying desperately to peek through the
typical overcast skies of autumn. Isaac finds himself thankful for his wolf
senses that allow his eyes to adjust immediately, and he sticks close to Scott
and Peter as the three creep forward into the dark building, footsteps falling
almost silently.
They traverse the main lobby and the large hallway leading back to the vault,
finding no one. They pause outside of the vault, Scott holding up a hand to
stop the other two from moving forward, turning to look at them when he says,
“Don't you think it's kind of weird we haven't run into anyone yet? No alphas,
nothing?”
“You're saying you think it's a trap,” Peter says what Isaac has been fearing
this whole time, and he has to force himself to not bury his hands in his
pockets again. Scott nods and turns toward the vault door, which is closed but
does not appear to be locked, and moves to open it. As he does, Isaac can hear
movement within the vault, and he readies his claws, prepared to attack or
defend, which ever may be needed.
The vault isn't empty, as Isaac somehow expects it to be. Scott is the first to
rush in without checking the dark corners for hidden threats, but there aren't
any, and he is quickly fussing over a severely injured Derek and the two
smaller forms which are wrapped around him. Isaac steps into the vault much
slower, looking around the room almost out of pure curiosity before he makes
his way toward Derek and his pack mates. Erica is passed out, so he takes her
slumped form first, lifting her with relative ease. Scott doesn't say a word as
he helps Boyd up, just slings the taller boy's arm over his shoulders and
supports his weight as he sways.
When Peter finally enters the vault, he silently offers a hand to Derek, who
examines it as if, in the time he's been away, his uncle might have contracted
some kind of disease. Isaac would laugh if he weren't suddenly so exhausted, so
he stays quiet as Derek takes Peter's hand and allows himself to be pulled to
his feet.
The trip out of and away from the bank is – much to everyone's surprise – free
of ambushes or threats. No one says a word the entire time, which unsettles
Isaac only a little. Erica wakes before they reach the loft, but snuggles close
and falls back asleep when she sees who is carrying her. The trip back seems
much shorter than the trip there, and when they arrive Isaac is shocked to see
that barely more than an hour has passed. He follows Derek, who insisted
halfway through the return trip that he could walk without Peter's assistance,
into the loft, where Stiles and Danny are seated at the table. Stiles is on his
feet the moment he sees Derek, rushing over to help the larger man to the
couch. Derek doesn't wave off the help like he did to his uncle, and lets
Stiles support his weight as the fall down onto the cushions. Stiles begins
talking in hurried, rushed tones immediately, but Isaac turns his attention
away, carrying Erica up the spiral stairs.
He's tucking her into his own bed carefully when Scott and Boyd enter. The
larger wolf immediately takes his place beside the blonde on Isaac's bed,
curling next to her and stroking her hair, no longer concerned with his own
injuries. Isaac watches them for a long moment, numb and relieved at the same
time, before going out into the hall with Scott.
“We should let them rest,” Scott states the obvious, but Isaac can't find it in
himself to contest, instead he nods a silent agreement and follows the other
teen back down the stairs. Isaac notices immediately that Peter is nowhere to
be seen, but resists commenting on it and makes a mental note to text the man
later. Scott has moved across the room to Danny, who looks a bit frazzled but
no worse for wear as he sips at a can of soda that must have come out of
Derek's fridge. Isaac sees it's twin abandoned on the table where Stiles left
it, the hyperactive teen still hovering near Derek's side, getting up every few
minutes to fetch him water, a clean towel, or a blanket. Isaac sits on the
stairs and rests his head in his hands, letting the emotional and physical
exhaustion pour over him and tuning out the soft conversations being carried on
near him.
He's startled by someone touching his shoulder what he thinks is only a moment
later, but when he looks up he sees that Danny is gone, the table is cleared,
and Derek is asleep on the couch. Scott pulls his hand back from Isaac's
shoulder with a small smile, clearing his throat before speaking.
“Hey, we're heading home now. Are you going to be okay here on your own?” He
hears the genuine concern in Scott's tone and it makes him feel, somehow,
better about everything. He rakes a hand through his hair and glances to Stiles
who is standing by the door waiting for Scott before turning his attention back
to the darker-haired teen.
“Yeah, I think so. Derek won't be down for long, and I'll call you if anything
happens,” he replies easily, ignoring the small voice in his head that says
'but I'll call Peter first'. Scott doesn't seem entirely satisfied with this
answer, but he lets it go for now, saying a quiet goodbye before heading out
the door with Stiles. Isaac watches the metal door slide shut, and for the
first time in months, listens to the breathing and the heartbeats of his pack.
He stays there for a while longer before the position begins to cause an ache
in his muscles, which he stretches out as he stands. A quick trek up the stairs
and a peek into his room has him reassured that yes, today was real, and Erica
and Boyd are alive, if not completely well yet. He tells himself to let them
rest, like Scott said, and returns back to the living room, taking the
unoccupied couch in the space across from Derek.
Isaac removes his phone from his pocket as he sits, staring at the bright
screen blankly for a long moment before pulling open his apps, flipping through
games and puzzles, anything to distract himself. He wishes, briefly, that he
had put Erica and Boyd in Derek's room, so he could listen to his music to fill
the silence, but settles for playing a few rounds of sudoku on his phone
instead. His fifth game is interrupted by his phone vibrating under his finger
as he adds another number to the puzzle, and he closes the game quickly to look
at his messages. In his recent conversations, Scott's name is highlighted, so
he slides his finger over the screen to open the window.
Still doing okay?
Isaac can't help the small smile that the other boy's concern brings out, and
types a quick reply,
All still sleeping.
He hits send and closes the conversation, moving to put his phone down. He
hesitates when he sees Peter's name in his recent list, and opens the
conversation before he can stop himself. His thumb hovers above the keyboard as
he decides what to type, but finally settles for,
Thanks for helping today.
He presses send before he can talk himself out of it and gets up, shoving his
phone into his pocket as he moves quietly into the kitchen. He roots around in
the refrigerator for a while before pulling out the fixings for grilled cheese.
He's setting a pan on the stove and lighting the burner when his phone buzzes,
making him jump, but he digs the device out a moment later and opens the
conversation anxiously.
How are they?
Isaac stares at the reply, unsure if the man is asking out of actual concern
for his nephew and the other wolves, or if he's asking out of politeness. He
types and sends the reply,
Fine. Sleeping now.
He takes a deep breath and considers his next message carefully before adding,
I want to talk about the other day.
The reply doesn't come immediately, and Isaac has made his sandwich and
returned to the living room by the time his phone finally buzzes again.
What about it?
Isaac makes himself take his time eating his sandwich and wipes his hands off
on his jeans before picking the phone up to type out a reply.
Why do you think it was a mistake?
He sets his phone down and drums his fingers on his knees for a while, looking
up at the ceiling and watching the sun getting lower and lower in the sky
through the large windows at the front of the loft. Derek stirs briefly, and
wakes fully a moment later, looking around the apartment and at Isaac before
sitting up slowly.
“Hey,” he says, and Isaac can't help the small smile that spreads across his
face.
“Hey,” the teen replies, watching his Alpha stretch and survey some of his
worse wounds. Isaac taps his fingers on his knee and Derek looks up, giving him
a look full of exhaustion and relief. “Erica and Boyd are sleeping in my room.
You should head upstairs and get some rest. Scott and I can fill you in
tomorrow.”
For once, the Alpha doesn't seem to disagree, and takes his time pulling
himself from the couch and up the stairs. Isaac hears his phone buzz across the
table, but doesn't pick it up until he hears Derek's bedroom door shut. He
clicks the message open immediately and bites his lip at the words there.
Because you're my nephew's beta? Because you're underage? Because your friends
all think I'm a psychopathic killer? Take your pick.
Isaac frowns at his screen, fingers itching to type a reply, but the words
aren't coming to him now. He's saved from having to answer as his phone buzzes
again and the new message pops up.
If the circumstances were different, we wouldn't be having this conversation.
He knows then what he wants to say, all of the many things he wants to ask the
other beta, but settles for one thing at a time.
Would you do it again? If the circumstances were different, I mean.
The reply comes faster than he'd anticipated, and he takes a moment before
looking at it. When he does, he feels his heart start beating harder.
God, yes.
Isaac bites his lip again, wondering what to reply with this time, and decides
– after warring with himself for a solid minute or two – to quit holding back.
I want to do it again.
The next answer is slower, and Isaac nearly has a panic attack waiting for
Peter's reply. When he gets it, he can't help the short laugh that escapes him.
That's dangerous territory, pup. Quit while you're ahead.
Isaac nearly sets his phone down and leaves it at that, but a part of his brain
is egging him on, and he can't resist the final text he sends the older man.
What, afraid you can't keep up with me?
He pulls a throw blanket down from the back of the couch and wraps himself in
it, curling up and getting comfortable. His eyes are drifting shut and he's
starting to doze when the next text comes through.
Is that a challenge?
He smirks at his phone, sleep-dumb fingers typing slowly at the keys on the
screen.
You know what? Yeah, it is.
He sets his phone down again on the coffee table and lets his head fall back
against the couch cushions, finally letting sleep take him. He doesn't dream at
all.
Chapter End Notes
     Still taking suggestions for music at my_blog, feel free to drop me a
     message about the fic or anything over there! I love you guys, see
     you again soon!
***** Challenge Accepted *****
Chapter Notes
     EDIT: Also, I changed the main summary of the fic, but it's still the
     same fic so don't...panic, or anything. It's okay.
     Here's the next installment! Thanks again for your patience and all
     of the wonderful music suggestions and comments that you guys have
     given me. I love you so much!
     There's some more sloppy sexy makeouts this chapter. Enjoy those.
     And here's your playlist for this chapter! It got away from me a
     little bit.
     1. Pierces - Sticks And Stones
     2. Fitz & The Tantrums - The Walker
     3. OK GO - Invincible
     4. Grace Potter and the Nocturnals - Paris (Ooh La La)
     5. Bastille - Haunt
     6. The Black Keys - Howlin' For You
     7. Natalia Kills - Trouble
The first thing Isaac notices when he wakes up is the warm smell of cooking
food floating in from the kitchen. The second thing he notices is the pair of
voices talking softly across the room at the table. Yesterday's events come
back to him in a rush, and suddenly he's falling to the floor in his rush to
get off the couch where he fell asleep the night before. He knocks his knee
against the coffee table and curses under his breath before darting across the
room into the arms of his pack mates. Erica wraps her arms around him first,
pulling him close to her and he buries his face in her hair, breathing deeply.
Boyd wraps his arms around the both of them much more gently, and they stay in
the embrace for much longer than Isaac expected either of them to tolerate.
When they break apart a moment later, Isaac takes his time inspecting each of
them carefully, checking for wounds that haven't yet healed, but they appear to
be in top form yet again.
“You're healed?” He questions, unable to stop himself. From the damage they
looked to have taken, he would have expected days of recovery, not one night.
“Being near your pack helps,” Derek remarks from where he's leaning against the
kitchen door frame, spatula in hand and an almost serene look on his face.
“Breakfast is ready, come on.”
Isaac joins his betas in the race to the kitchen, but lets Erica win, reaching
the table full of plates piled high with pancakes, bacon, sausages, and eggs.
The three seat themselves and begin digging in as Derek pours glasses of orange
juice for each of them and a cup of coffee for himself. The four eat in
relative silence, punctuated mostly by Erica's occasional commentary on how
delicious the food is, how much she missed real home cooking, and eventually
joking quips about Derek being domesticated.
Everyone is slowing down on filling themselves to stuffing when the main door
slides open and all three of the betas freeze. Boyd begins growling deep in his
throat, and Derek stands slowly, making his way toward the kitchen doorway.
Before he reaches it, Peter comes sauntering through the doorway like he was
invited in, and Derek and the betas deflate almost immediately.
“What are you doing here?” Derek attempts his angriest tone, and Isaac can tell
he's only slightly grateful for Peter's help in rescuing them the day before.
Peter ignores the question and moves past his nephew to the coffee pot, where
he pours a cup of coffee. Derek is watching him, arms crossed, even as the
older man moves to take the Alpha's seat at the table, passing the freshly
poured coffee to Isaac without a word. He picks up the remainder of Derek's
food and begins eating it, apparently unaware of the three betas that are
staring at him, Erica's gaze darting between Peter, Isaac, and the cup of dark
liquid in his hands. The teen looks down to avoid her gaze and sips at the
coffee, enjoying the warmth and the bitterness of it, before Derek moves over
and takes his uncles shoulder in a tight, rough grip.
“Peter,” he growls a warning, and the older man sits back, having the audacity
to look affronted.
“Derek. I'm having breakfast with my pack.”
“This is not your pack.”
“Uh, Derek? Seriously, who is this?” Erica chimes, gaze shifting between the
two men. Derek glares at the back of the man's head, jaw clenched tight, and
Isaac can see the vein throbbing in the Alpha's neck when he chances a glance
up.
“This is Derek's reportedly sociopathic, murderous uncle Peter,” Isaac offers
to the other betas quietly, and Peter practically leers across the table at
him.
“Your dead uncle?” Boyd asks Derek, who nods stiffly, fists clenching behind
Peter's back. The older man picks up Derek's coffee cup and sips at it, looking
smug. Isaac clears his throat and excuses himself quietly, picking up his
dishes and carrying them to the sink before exiting the still quiet kitchen. He
grabs his phone from where he left it on the table the night before, then moves
up the stairs into his room, throwing himself down onto his bed.
He checks his phone and sees his conversation with Peter from the night before,
lit up with an unread message that came through after he had fallen asleep. He
takes a breath and opens the message, letting all of his air out at once when
he reads it.
Challenge accepted, pup.
With shaking fingers, he drops his phone onto the floor beside his bed and sits
up, moving to pick a random record from the crate and putting it onto the
player. It crackles as it begins to spin, the first notes of music coming out
as he takes a deep breath and exhales, dropping himself back down onto his bed.
He closes his eyes and listens to the music, trying to tune out his own
thoughts and the muted conversations carrying through the floorboards. He's
still laying on his bed several songs later when he hears Erica's light and
quick footsteps on the stairs. She peeks into his room, smiling broadly at the
sight of him, and he can't help the relieved smile that crosses his face when
he sees her there, just being happy and alive.
“Derek wants to talk to Scott, we're going over with him. Do you want to come?”
She asks as she closes the space between them and proceeds to prod his foot
with one of hers. She pokes him several times, waiting for a response, and he
laughs softly, kicking at her foot.
“No, I didn't sleep well, and I have a paper due on Friday I really need to
work on,” he gives her the half-honest answer, accompanied with an apologetic
look. “I'll see you guys when you get back.” She nods, giving his foot one last
little kick before turning and sweeping out of his room in the same way she
always has, gliding like a queen, and he smiles after her for a long time,
still shell-shocked over everything that had happened.
He lays for a few more songs, taking deep breaths and letting them out in long,
slow exhales. When he hears a noise on the floor below, his eyes flick open
immediately and he holds his breath, listening harder for more sounds. The
noise creeps up the steps, and Isaac sits up slowly, staring at the open frame
of his doorway until Peter comes into view, a small amused smirk on his face.
“Relax, pup, it's just me,” his voice is so low and quiet that Isaac has a hard
time distinguishing it from the music for a moment, but he does relax
immediately, sinking back against his pillows and letting his eyes fall shut
again.
“What are you still doing here?” He asks the older beta, not bothering to give
the other his gaze while talking to him, but Peter doesn't seem to mind,
sinking down to sit next to Isaac. He feels a circle of tingling heat radiating
from the spots where Peter's left hip touches his right, or where their knees
knock together. He comes back to himself in time to hear Peter talking.
“Well, Derek wanted to take the other pups out for a walk, and I thought you
could use some company, someone to talk to,” he explains, giving a vague
gesture with his hand as if it will fill in the gaps. Isaac snorts, shifting
onto his side and leaning up onto his elbow to look up at where Peter is
propped against the wall.
“Someone to talk to? Seriously, is that the best you've got?” He can't help the
smirk or the playful tone he uses with the other, but Peter's own innocent
smile widens a fraction and his eyebrows raise a little.
“I thought it was clever,” the older man mumbles, raising his hand and moving
it slowly, cautiously, toward Isaac. The teen watches the hand, perfectly
human, move toward his face, but doesn't move to stop it. Peter takes Isaac's
chin between his fingers gently, gaze shifting up from his lips to his eyes and
back down again quickly. Isaac's breath catches in his throat as Peter's tongue
darts out to wet his lips. The older man moves his thumb up and across Isaac's
lower lip slowly, gently pulling at the flesh of it, and Isaac's breath
stutters out against his skin, making the corner of Peter's mouth twitch. Isaac
smiles into the touch and darts his tongue out to lav at the man's thumb before
taking it gently between his teeth, licking at the tip of it before pressing a
kiss to the digit and pulling away. They lock gazes for a moment, Isaac
marveling at how wide Peter's pupils are. Peter pulls his hand away from
Isaac's face, moving it lower to hover above the teen's hip. Isaac glances down
toward the man's hand before looking back at his face, licking his lips. He
lifts himself up a little more, off his elbow to lean on his hand instead, and
finds himself closer to Peter's level now. He huffs a quiet laugh, lifting his
own free hand up to curl his fingers into the front of the man's shirt,
watching the motion of his hand before looking up again as Peter's hand finally
comes to settle on his hip.
“Are we making a mistake?” Isaac whispers after a moment, gaze flickering
between Peter's eyes and mouth, the corner of which twitches a little at the
question.
“Probably,” comes the reply as they each lean in a bit closer.
“Am I going to regret this?” Isaac asks now, closing his eyes as his nose meets
the older man's.
“Definitely,” Peter breathes out before leaning forward and sealing the kiss,
grip tightening on Isaac's hip as the other leans up into him enthusiastically,
tugging on Peter's shirt and pulling him closer to his own body. Isaac whimpers
softly into the gesture as Peter's hand rakes up his side, making him shiver
and pull out of the kiss suddenly. Peter leans forward more, trying to keep the
teen's lips within reach and chuckling quietly.
“Done already?” His taunting tone is deeper and laced with something that makes
Isaac's spine chill, but the teen shakes his head and lunges forward into a
second kiss, pressing insistently at Peter's mouth with his own, fingers moving
up from the man's shirt, sliding up the side of his neck and wrapping tightly
into his hair. Peter groans softly at this, moving his hand up the teen's side
and around to his back, and Isaac arches into the touch with a quiet gasp.
Peter takes advantage of the opportunity to dart his tongue into the others'
mouth, flicking across his teeth and lips. The younger wolf growls softly at
this, nipping at Peter's tongue and making the older man smirk into the kiss.
“Behave yourself, pup,” he whispers against the teen's lips, licking them
slowly before kissing the other again, clawed fingers pressing at Isaac's back
between his shoulder blades. He feels Isaac's fingers twisting in his hair and
moans at the sensation, pulling his mouth away to press it to the teen's lean
neck instead, sucking and biting hard with blunt teeth, leaving dark, angry-red
marks on the pale skin. He begins leaving a trail of slowly fading hickeys on
Isaac's neck, starting at the corner of his jaw and working down over his pulse
and throat. The teen moans loudly at one particularly sharp bite at his throat,
and Peter practically purrs at the reaction, pulling Isaac closer and biting at
his shoulder through his shirt, trying to illicit the same response again. The
moan comes out as a soft sigh this time, and Peter smirks against the skin of
Isaac's neck before pulling away, moving his hand down to tug insistently at
the hem of the teen's shirt. Isaac pushes himself up to fully sitting and pulls
the garment over his head, tossing it over his shoulder while watching Peter
survey the newly revealed expanse of skin.
When the older beta looks up again, he meets Isaac's gaze with a smirk, hand
reaching out to gently trace the line of his collarbones, moving down his chest
and stomach. Isaac holds back a gasp but can't suppress a shiver as Peter's
hand trails over his abs and back up, stopping at the junction of his neck and
shoulder. Isaac lunges forward again, claiming Peter's lips in a heated,
demanding kiss that the man returns with vigor, pulling Isaac toward him until
the teen is straddling his thighs. Isaac slides his hands up Peter's shoulders,
one pushing back up into his hair, gripping at it in an attempt to control the
kiss. To his surprise, the older man gives him the control he seeks, but keeps
his hands locked firmly onto Isaac's hips, groaning when the teen grinds down
against him. Isaac tugs at the short hair at the back of Peter's head once more
for good measure before pulling away and tugging at the man's shirt, instead.
Peter smirks breathlessly, but removes his hands from the others' hips long
enough to tug his own shirt off and toss it aside, gasping when Isaac's fingers
immediately spread out over the uncovered skin. Isaac quickly replaces his
fingertips with his mouth, pressing soft, chaste kisses over Peter's neck,
chest, and abs, darting his tongue out occasionally to lick at the skin,
eliciting quiet hums of pleasure.
Both freeze when Isaac's phone falls from the bed, buzzing and playing a
default ring tone loudly, and Isaac jerks away first, sliding off the bed and
scooting across the floor to pick up the device. He clears his throat and
slides his finger across the screen, turning to face Peter as he brings the
phone to his ear.
“Hey Derek,” he greets, trying to keep his tone light, but Peter can hear the
roughness of it and smirks. Isaac flips his middle finger up at the man quickly
before dropping his hand back into his lap. He listens to his alpha talk for a
moment, expression neutral.
“Already?” he asks, looking up at Peter, slightly startled. “No, sorry, I just
thought you were going to stay longer. It's fine.”
Peter raises an eyebrow at the teen but doesn't say anything, even when Isaac
picks up the older man's shirt and hurls it at him, scrambling to stand.
“Okay, sure, no problem,” he says a bit hurriedly into the phone before hitting
a button on it and dropping it onto the bed beside Peter. The older man smirks,
lifting his shirt in question. Isaac scowls at him and needlessly tells him,
“They're going to be back in ten minutes.”
The older wolf sighs deeply as Isaac flutters around his room, not seeming to
know what he's trying to accomplish with the movement. He grabs the teen by the
wrist and pulls him close, pressing their chests flush. He leans in close and
nips at Isaac's lower lip, grinning at the quiet noise he makes in response.
“Calm down, pup. Go take a shower,” his voice is practically crooning, and
Isaac leans into the others' warmth, nuzzling at his cheek gently.
“I don't want to,” he replies, voice still low and rough. He licks at the side
of Peter's neck and gasps when the other man grips his hips roughly in
response. He grins and does it again, laughing this time when Peter presses
their hips together.
“Do you want Derek to smell me on you?” Peter tries, bringing one hand up and
pushing at Isaac's chest gently until the teen begins to step back. Isaac looks
him in the eye, smirking a little despite himself.
“Yeah, actually,” he says, and laughs when Peter's face falls a little,
reassuring him, “But not today.”
Peter relaxes slightly, leaning in to give the teen one more teasing kiss
before pushing at him again.
“Go.”
“Yeah, yeah,” the younger wolf grumbles, grabbing a towel and pair of pants
from the floor before ducking out the room. Peter watches him go, dropping back
down onto the bed when he hears the water of the shower start running. He rests
his head in his hands and laughs lowly, fingers raking through his hair.
“Too easy.”
***** Stupid Mistakes *****
Chapter Notes
     Hello again, everyone! I've been on a real roll with updating this,
     haven't I? The muses have really been biting at my ankles to get this
     going, so I'm going with it for as long as inspiration strikes.
     Things get a little hot in this chapter (hotter than before), meaning
     the rating is now up up up. Check the updated tags for some more
     information/warnings about what goes down in this chapter and later
     ones, as well.
     Here's your playlist for this chapter:
     1. Lera Lynn - Wolf Like Me
     2. Conner Youngblood - The Warpath
     3. The Hoosiers - Worried About Ray
     4. The Beatles - I Want You (She's So Heavy)
     5. Jack White - Love Is Blindness
     6. Dead Man's Bones - Lose Your Soul
     Hope you enjoy!
When Isaac steps out of the shower, he hears Derek and the pack downstairs, as
well as Scott and Stiles. He takes his time drying off and dressing in the
clean, Peter-free clothes he grabbed before, listening to the dull sounds of
discussion and laughter floating through the floor. When he can't put it off
any longer, he hangs his towel over the shower curtain rod and begins the trek
downstairs. He pauses at the half-way point, looking out over the room. Erica
and Boyd are sitting so close together on one of the couches, Isaac thinks they
might morph into one person soon. Derek and Stiles are sitting on the other
couch, not quite as close together, but still closer than Isaac thinks they
realize. Scott is on the floor at one end of the coffee table, flipping through
a worn-out looking book, a notebook sitting abandoned to the side. Isaac
finishes his decent down the stairs, smiling at Boyd and Erica when they wave
him over to share their couch. He takes a seat on the far side of the couch
from them, but tangles his feet up with theirs, enjoying the feeling of the
closeness of pack.
“Have you gotten any farther on that English paper?” Scott asks him when he
sits, and Isaac scratches the back of his head sheepishly.
“Not really, I've been sort of distracted,” he admits, and ignores the sharp
look that Stiles gives him from across the table. Scott nods and goes back to
flipping through the book, which Isaac can see now is a book of myths and
mythology from different regions. Stiles turns his gaze back down to the laptop
in his lap that Derek is leaning closer to see, and Isaac feels his curiosity
peak.
“What are you doing?” He asks, kicking gently at Boyd's feet. The other teen
kicks back lightly, but smiles a little at the contact.
“Research,” Stiles grunts noncommittally, and Derek raises an eyebrow at the
teen for his bluntness.
“Boyd and I don't remember anything about the people who took us,” Erica fills
in the gap, but leaves more of them.
“You mean the alpha pack?” Isaac asks, looking between Erica and Derek, and
Derek nods curtly, keeping his eyes on the laptop screen as he and Stiles read.
He turns his attention back to Boyd and Erica. “You don't remember anything?”
The two share a look, and Boyd shakes his head. “Nothing. We remember the
vault, being there for what felt like forever.”
“But nothing about them,” Erica finishes, lacing her fingers through Boyd's and
bringing his hand up to her mouth, kissing the back of it gently before
dropping it, keeping their fingers locked. Isaac watches the motion and feels a
number of conflicting emotions, jealousy the most prominent. He pushes it down
and looks away, glancing around the loft.
“Where's Peter?” He asks himself before he can stop, and Stiles slams the
laptop shut suddenly, making the five wolves jump. Isaac realizes his mistake
when Stiles locks him with an almost murderous expression, face already flaring
red with anger.
“What's with all of the interest in Peter, huh? If it's some kind of compulsion
that you're drawn to people who are dangerous and life-threatening, then you
really need to get that looked at,” the teen spits vehemently, and Isaac feels
his fingertips prickling with the want to release his claws.
“Excuse me for giving him a second glance when all the rest of you treat him
like he has the plague,” Isaac bites back, eyes glowing, and Derek sits up a
little straighter, stern gaze resting on his beta. Scott watches the exchange
with a serious expression, and Erica and Boyd have fallen silent, staring at
Isaac like he's grown another head.
“Isaac,” Derek warns, but Stiles cuts him off as he sets the laptop aside and
stands.
“Is it seriously not sinking in for you? He killed people. He tried to kill us!
It's not rocket science, you'd have to be an idiot to trust him,” Stiles
shouts, waving his hands as he tries to articulate his anger. Derek reaches up
and grabs one of Stile's hands gently, stopping it's motion, but his gaze is
still on Isaac, who growls deep in his throat and stands as well.
“You're right, I must be some kind of idiot to trust him when all he's done is
help me,” comes the retort, sharp and tinted with a growl. Stiles doesn't back
down, even takes a step closer.
“Help you? Right, because feeling you up and making out with you is really
helping,” Stiles hisses, and Isaac see's Derek's eyes flash red now. Scott
tenses and stands as well, moving to hold out a hand to Isaac's chest as the
other wolf takes a step forward.
“Isaac,” Derek says again, pitch lower and eyes lit up red, gaze locked on his
beta. Isaac continues to snarl at Stiles, but lets Scott's hand on his chest
hold him back. “Is this true?”
Isaac swallows and clenches his fists, shifting his gaze from Stiles to Derek
slowly. He takes a deep breath and lets it out before slowly shaking his head.
Derek's eyes narrow, and he stands as well, pushing Stiles behind him. The teen
glares over his shoulder at Isaac but doesn't protest.
“Isaac. Tell me the truth,” his alpha commands, and Isaac feels a shudder run
through him, eyes flashing gold again before returning to normal, claws
retracting.
“Yeah, I,” he swallows hard when a low, guttural growl comes from his alpha. “I
kissed him. J-Just once, it was a stupid mistake and I, I won't do it again.”
Derek stops growling abruptly, but his eyes are still alpha-red. Isaac flinches
instinctively when the older man moves, but watches, confused, as Derek turns
and walks stiffly to the door of the loft and exits. Isaac glances back toward
Stiles, who shoots him a look that could kill before hurrying off after Derek.
Isaac takes a shaky breath, and realizes that Scott's hand is still on his
chest. He meet's Scott's eyes after a moment, and finds them normal, but
narrowed. The other teen drops his hand slowly, but doesn't break eye contact.
“Scott?” Isaac asks after a moment of uncomfortable silence. Scott takes a step
back, shaking his head slightly.
“Your heartbeat,” the shorter beta says softly, expression slowly morphing into
one of disappointment. “You lied. Tell me the truth.”
Isaac opens his mouth to reply, but can't find the words. He sinks back down to
the couch with a heavy sigh, rubbing a hand across his face as he tries to work
up the courage.
“It wasn't just once,” he says quietly, and doesn't look up to gauge Scott's
reaction when the other doesn't make a sound. “And I,” he stops suddenly,
nervous laughter bubbling up in his throat and threatening to escape. He shoves
it down and takes another deep breath, “I want to do it again.”
He still won't meet Scott's eyes, and after a moment, the other walks out
silently, leaving Isaac on the couch with his stunned-silent pack mates. A few
moments pass in steady silence before Erica moves beside him and wraps her arms
around his neck, resting her head against his shoulder. He sighs and leans his
head against hers, ignoring the sudden wetness on his cheeks. When she finally
pulls away, she presses her hand to his cheek and turns his head firmly to meet
her gaze. She brushes his hair back from his forehead and wipes his cheeks, but
doesn't say anything, and Isaac feels like he's suffocating.
“I'm such an idiot,” he whispers finally, voice cracking on the last word, and
Erica immediately shushes him, pulling him towards her and hugging him tightly.
“Shut up, puppy, you're not an idiot. You made a mistake, we all do it,” she
coos softly, combing her fingers through his hair gently.
“It wasn't just a one-time thing,” Isaac mumbles against her shoulder, feeling
pitiful. He can see Boyd watching them and closes his eyes so he doesn't have
to see the other boy's concern. “I...I liked it. I didn't want to stop. He's
been so nice to me, Erica, and I-”
His breath stutters on an inhale and she holds him tighter still as he lets the
breath out in a sob. “Shh, puppy, it's okay.”
Isaac isn't sure how long he leans against Erica and cries, but he feels
lightheaded and exhausted when he finally pulls away. She gives his head
another quiet, soothing stroke before standing and moving towards the door.
Probably to check on the others, Isaac thinks, closing his eyes when Boyd moves
to stand as well, putting a heavy, soothing hand atop his head for just a
moment before joining Erica. Isaac hears the door slide shut behind them and
the sudden, unnerving quiet of the loft jars him. He shuffles across the empty
room to the stairs, taking them slowly as he climbs. When he reaches his room
and throws himself down onto his bed, the first thing he smells is Peter. The
smell makes his chest tighten and his stomach turn, but he buries his face into
his pillow and inhales deeply, anyway, letting himself be engulfed, even for a
moment, but the comfort of the older wolf's scent.
He rolls over only when he hears his phone chime somewhere nearby, and has to
dig through his blankets and some laundry to find it. When he does, he opens
the conversation with Peter that is lit up with a new message eagerly.
When can we pick up where we left off?
Isaac snuffles a small laugh out, wiping his face with the back of his hand
before typing out a reply.
Probably never. Stiles told Derek and everyone about us.
He hesitates to hit send, looking at the message for a long time and feeling a
fluttering in the pit of his stomach as he begins to deeply consider the
implications of the word “us”. He decides to change the wording.
Probably never. Stiles told Derek and everyone about what's been going on.
He hits send and moves to his crate of records, digging around for something,
anything to listen to. He comes up with a Beatles record and looks it over for
a moment before putting it on to play, not really caring at this point as long
as he doesn't have to sit in silence. He leans back and closes his eyes,
listening to the music until his phone chimes again with a new message.
I knew that kid was going to be a pain in the ass. Don't worry, pup. It'll blow
over soon.
Isaac frowns, typing out a reply quickly and hitting send.
I don't think it will.
He lays his head back and closes his eyes again, letting himself get tangled up
in the music and the scent of Peter. His phone rings half a song later, and he
looks at it, slightly startled, before picking up.
“Tell me about it,” Peter's voice says, light with an undertone of sinister,
making Isaac's skin tingle. He lays back again on his pillow and looks up at
his ceiling.
“I told Derek it wouldn't happen again, but he could tell I was lying,” Isaac
says, biting his lip afterward and waiting nervously for the man's reaction.
Peter only laughs, low and sultry, and Isaac feels a jolt of arousal run
through him.
“So you really did enjoy it,” Peter sounds amused now, and Isaac scoffs
lightly, trying to sound nonchalant, but not really succeeding.
“Of course I did,” he mumbles, lacking the confidence he typically tries to
boast. He can hear a happy rumble from Peter's end and smiles slightly. “The
others have all gone out, I'm not sure what they're doing...”
Isaac isn't sure why he confesses this to the older man, but suddenly feels
bashful about it, feeling his cheeks flush pink. Peter's mischievous chuckle
tells him it was somehow the right thing to say.
“Is that so?” Isaac can hear the croon in his voice and shudders slightly,
biting his lip more as he feels a tingle of pleasure run down his spine. “Well,
that would certainly be one way to get away with it.”
“What?” he hears himself ask it, but doesn't really register the question,
feeling his eyelids drooping heavily with sleepiness and arousal, moving his
free hand down to adjust himself where he's started to get hard in his boxers.
He bites his lip to avoid making a noise at the sudden contact and pulls his
hand back quickly.
“Phone sex,” Peter says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, and
Isaac splutters helplessly. He can practically hear the smirk in Peter's tone
as he carries on, “Derek won't be able to smell me on you, you won't get in
trouble with your friends...”
“Derek pays my phone bill. He'd have access to my call records, and I'm sure
he's going to be checking them after this afternoon's blow up,” he grumbles,
but feels his face and neck flushed hot from the others' words.
“Isaac,” the purr in the other man's voice is completely unfair, Isaac reasons
as he lets out a small sound that he intends to be an affirmative noise, but
sounds more like a moan instead. “You don't have to be shy. Tell me what you
want.”
Isaac's breath catches in his throat and he makes another small sound, moving
his hand down again to rub himself through his jeans. He undoes his fly
quickly, darting his hand into his boxers to get flesh-on-flesh contact,
rubbing his rapidly hardening length. He lets out a small puff of air as Peter
repeats his name, tone lower and more gravelly than Isaac has ever heard it.
“I-I want you to fuck me,” Isaac says into the phone breathlessly, darting his
tongue out to wet his lips as he pulls another deep breath, letting it out in a
shaky sigh. Peter hums tonelessly through the phone and Isaac can picture the
look on his face. “I want you to hold me down and have your way with me.”
Peter lets out a soft grunt this time, and Isaac groans in response to his own
ministrations, stroking himself quickly and firmly. He gasps at one stroke that
brings his thumb across the head of his dick and arches his head back,
listening to Peter's breathing on the other line.
“What else, Isaac?” He asks, and Isaac finds himself almost panting, slowing
down his strokes to think.
“What else?” He parrots, much more breathless than the other man. He considers
this for a moment, letting himself close his eyes and picture the older man,
and all the things Isaac suddenly realizes he wants Peter to do to him. “I
want- I want you to mark me, make me yours, make me your beta.” Isaac inhales
sharply as he gives himself a firm squeeze, the speed of his strokes increasing
again as realization dawns.
“You want me to be your alpha?” Peter's voice has pitched even lower, and the
low timbre of it makes Isaac whine with need. He can feel himself getting
close, painfully close, and he bites back a loud moan.
“Yes, god, yes,” he gasps, running clawed fingertips up his abs and back down,
gripping himself again and stroking firmly, once, twice-
“Help make me the alpha, Isaac,” Peter's tone is firm, and Isaac feels almost
like it's an order. “And I will give you everything you want.”
Isaac gasps, releasing all of his breath in a loud moan as he comes,
splattering his stomach and hand. He strokes a few times more, milking his
orgasm, before letting his hand drop to the bed beside him. He breathes heavily
for a few moments, before remembering the phone still pressed to his ear.
“Peter,” he says, voice tight, and the man hums again, the low rumble
threatening and sexy in his ear.
“Will you help me, Isaac?” Peter asks, and Isaac looks at his hand, his
stomach, and across the room to the crate of records. He takes a deep breath.
“Yes. I'll help you.”
***** Blessing *****
Chapter Notes
     So, I'm seriously on a roll with updating this baby, as I mentioned
     before. Still not sure how long it's going to last, but I'm pushing
     myself to write a little bit of it every day, so hopefully it'll
     really get going soon.
     This chapter has a lot of Erica. I love Erica, and my feelings and
     headcanons about her are endless. Seriously endless. So there's a
     little bit of that here. Other than Erica, there's a lot of
     domesticity and awkward feelings this chapter, but it rolls around
     into something better toward the end.
     This is probably where I should give you guys a huge, HUGE, HUGE
     thank you and shout out for being so great and patient with me, even
     through my down-months. This fic has grown much bigger than I ever
     expected it to, and it's all thanks to you guys for reading,
     commenting, and being so supportive. I can't thank you all enough for
     helping to really bring my creativity back out of hiding.
     Another quick note: I'm absolutely FREAKING OUT because of how close
     we are to 5,000 hits on this?! YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME. Once I hit 5,000
     hits for real, I'll do something special to celebrate. You guys are
     great. ♥
     Without any further ado, here's your playlist for this chapter:
     1. IAMX - The Stupid, The Proud
     2. The Raconteurs - Hold Up
     3. The Cure - Treasure
     4. Green Day - Wow! That's Loud
     5. Capital Cities - Chasing You
     6. Mother Mother - Arms Tonite
     Enjoy!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
The rest of the day after the phone call was oddly normal. Isaac took another
shower, returned to his room, switched records, and finished his paper on
Persephone and Hades. He's closing his notebook and stuffing it into his
backpack when he hears the door to the loft sliding open, and pauses to listen.
He hears Derek enter first, and keeps his head down as the alpha's footsteps
move up the stairs and down the hall into his room. He only looks up when a
second, lighter pair of footsteps follows, and watches as Stiles passes by his
open doorway before disappearing into Derek's room, the door shutting with a
click behind him.
Isaac wrinkles his nose slightly at this, but returns to packing up his
backpack. He supposed that taking two days off from school was enough, more
than enough, really, and was glad at least that he'd be returning in time to
turn his paper in before the weekend. He was broken out of his thoughts by
Erica's light footsteps on the stairs and her peeking her head around the door
frame, golden curls tumbling over her shoulder.
“Hey handsome,” she greets, ruby lips curling into a wide smile. He hasn't
quite worked up the courage to look the rest of the pack in the eye after the
earlier blow-up, but offers a small, withering smile before returning to
shoving books into his bag. “Whoa, hey, what kind of look is that when an
actual goddess is standing in your room?”
Isaac looks up with a small puff of a laugh, this time making eye contact with
Erica as she plants her hands on her hips, standing just inside his door. He
shakes his head and tosses his bag aside, and she moves across the room, taking
a seat beside him on the bed.
“What's up, puppy?” She coos, automatically carding her fingers into his hair,
nails gently scraping against his scalp. Isaac closes his eyes and lets out a
sigh.
“Nothing, just...I still feel like shit because of earlier,” he admits, tilting
his head forward slightly as she rakes her fingers back and forth through his
hair. She sighs and leans into him, bumping his shoulder with her own.
“Don't stress about it. I'm sure things will blow over sooner or later,” she
says, kissing the side of his head above his ear, and he grunts softly in
reply.
“If only,” he mumbles, and she moves her hand from his hair, wrapping her arm
around his shoulders instead.
“Hey, how about you come help me make dinner? Boyd is still out talking to
Scott and I have no idea where anything in this place is,” she suggests,
standing and pulling him up with her. He rolls his head back and sighs, but
doesn't say no as she begins tugging him down the stairs behind her, fingers
now locked around his wrist.
“Boyd is talking to Scott?” He asks when they reach the main floor and she
makes straight for the kitchen, him following closely behind.
“Yeah, we both did a little damage control on your behalf,” she says
offhandedly, as if it's no big deal, but Isaac stops just short of the kitchen,
and she turns to look at him quizzically. “What?”
“Damage control? What are you talking about?” He questions, lowering his voice
slightly, still hyper-aware of Derek and Stiles upstairs, although the two seem
to be silent, and Isaac can't tell if Derek is listening or not. Erica moves
back towards him and takes his hands in hers, looking up at him with a small,
but genuine smile.
“Isaac, we care about you. All of us do, even if Derek is a hardass and sucks
at expressing his feelings,” she raises her voice slightly over the last half
of the sentence, looking towards the stairs, and Isaac can't help but laugh
softly. “The point is, I don't know what's been going on with you and this guy-
”
“Peter,” Isaac interrupts almost immediately, and her smile widens a fraction.
“Peter,” she corrects, nodding slightly, “But what I do know is that I've never
seen you look happier than you do when you talk about him, and if he makes you
happy, then he can't be all bad, right?” Isaac takes a breath, closing his eyes
and holding the air in his lungs before releasing it as he opens his eyes
again.
“You don't understand,” he starts, but Erica cuts him off with a soft slap to
the back of his hand.
“Don't you start that brooding teenager 'you don't understand' bullshit with
me,” she chides, and he laughs again, smiling at her. She returns the smile
with a grin of her own, petting his hand where she slapped it. “Derek and
Stiles told us everything.”
“Everything?” Isaac asks, incredulous, and Erica nods.
“Everything. And even knowing what we do now, I still say you should do what
you want. If he makes you happy, then why should we care?” Isaac smiles,
nodding slightly, and Erica releases his hands.
“I'm sure Derek doesn't agree with you, but...thanks,” he says, leaning in to
give her a light peck on the cheek, rubbing their faces together briefly. She
pulls away with an impish grin and dances toward the kitchen. Isaac follows her
and watches as she flings open drawers and cupboards, investigating and
memorizing the layout of the new space.
“So, what should we make?” she asks, digging through the freezer. Isaac leans
against the door frame, laughing.
“I don't really know how to cook,” he replies, and she whips around, hair
fanning out behind her.
“You what?” Erica looks scandalized, and Isaac raises an eyebrow, still
laughing.
“I don't know how to cook,” he repeats, crossing his arms against the way she's
looking at him now. She marches towards him, leaving the freezer open and
grabbing him by the wrist, hauling him further into the kitchen.
“Look, Isaac, that pretty face will get you many places in life, but you can't
expect to sweep anyone off their feet unless you know how to cook a good meal,”
she says, returning to digging through the freezer as he stands to the side,
feeling lost and a little shy.
“I don't need to sweep anyone off their feet,” he grumbles, crossing his arms
tighter over his chest and watching her pull things out and occasionally put
them back.
“Maybe not now, but it's still a good skill to have,” she says matter-of-
factly, closing the freezer and opening the fridge. She begins pulling things
out with even more vigor, pausing as she sniffs a container of something that
Isaac can't identify. “Who normally does the grocery shopping?”
“Peter,” he says, moving to shove his hands into his pockets again, suddenly
very aware of the fact that he left his phone on his bed upstairs, and what if
the man texts him...
“He must like to cook,” she sounds surprised, and Isaac looks at her, confused.
She holds up several ingredients in answer, propping the door open with her
hip. “Lots of good stuff in here. You should ask him for lessons.”
“Seriously? Cooking lessons?” Isaac begins taking things as Erica hands them to
him and moving to the island, looking at each one with interest before setting
them down.
“Why not? It would be good bonding time for you two,” she smirks over her
shoulder as she pulls a frying pan down from the hanging rack over the island
and dances over to the stove. Isaac snorts, but reminds himself to ask the man
about it later.
He hovers over Erica, watching as she chops, slices, and fries, handing her
things when she asks for them and filing away every tip that she offers.
“Where did you learn all of this?” He asks at one point, while she's turning a
steak over with a pair of tongs. He didn't even know they had steak. Or tongs.
“I watched a lot of cooking shows when I was younger,” she says, looking
bashful, “Before my epilepsy got really bad. When I couldn't watch TV as much
anymore, I start taking cooking classes in school and over the summer, to have
something to do. I'm not really good at it, but it's fun.”
Isaac brings plates and cutlery down from the cupboards she can't reach,
setting the table as she finishes the final touches on the meal, and he takes a
few moments to revel in the feeling of normalcy.
“Go tell Derek and Stiles that dinner's ready, will you?” She calls over her
shoulder while she's arranging food on plates and he's getting cups from the
cupboard. He drops one and only manages to catch it because of his wolf
reflexes.
“Seriously? I can't-” he attempts, but she shoots him a look that makes him
stop short.
“Isaac, trust me, just do it.”
He exits the kitchen with a heavy sigh, moving towards the stairs. He's on the
bottom step when the door slides open and Scott and Boyd enter, mid-discussion.
They stop as Scott and Isaac make eye contact, and Isaac quickly darts up the
stairs, stopping outside of Derek's door and taking a deep breath. He's raising
his hand to knock when the door swings open, Stiles standing in the frame.
“Yeah?” The shorter teen asks with a grunt, not quite looking Isaac in the eye.
He peers over Stiles' head and sees Derek laying on his bed, facing away from
the door. With a sigh, Isaac turns his gaze back down and crosses his arms.
“Erica made dinner,” he says, shuffling his feet against the floor. Stiles
stands resolutely, one hand on the door frame and the other on the door.
“Not hungry,” he replies simply meeting Isaac's eyes defiantly, and Isaac can't
help but grimace a little bit.
“Look, I'm sorry that I didn't listen to you guys,” he tries, uncrossing his
arms and shoving his hands into his jeans pocket, again noting the absence of
his phone. Stiles replies with a snort, but doesn't say anything, so Isaac
takes this as a cue to continue. “I know that everyone is concerned about me,
and I appreciate that.”
Stiles gives him a hard look for a long moment, the kind that makes Isaac want
to squirm uncomfortably, even though he knows it wouldn't take more than a
punch to send the other kid flying. Finally, Stiles drops his hands and rubs
his hands on the legs of his jeans.
“No, dude, I'm sorry I was so hard on you. It was kind of a dick move, what I
did earlier, and I should have...tried to be more understanding,” Stiles says
all of this with a begrudging tone, and Isaac can't help but feel a little
sorry for him, wondering if this is what Erica meant by 'damage control'.
“I shouldn't have lied,” Isaac says this time, firmly. He tries not to look at
Derek, but is desperate for some kind of reaction from his alpha. “I know that
you don't exactly like me, but thanks for trying.”
“Dude, I kind of treat you like crap,” Stiles says, looking at Isaac
incredulously, and Isaac puffs out a small laugh. “I'm pretty sure I'm the
bigger dick, here.”
“As touching as this particular pissing contest is, you boys finish later?”
Erica hollers from the bottom of the stairs, tone filled with mirth. “Dinner's
getting cold.”
Isaac turns his gaze back to Stiles and tries a tentative smile, holding a hand
out towards the other teen.
“Truce?” he tries weakly, and Stiles returns the smile, grabbing Isaac's hand
and shaking it with a small shrug.
“Truce,” he agrees. Isaac nods and takes one last glance at Derek before
heading down the stairs, moving into the dining area of the kitchen where he
finds Erica, Scott, and Boyd already seated and beginning to dig in. He moves
to sit next to Erica, but stops when she points her fork at the space between
Boyd and Scott, and hesitantly moves to sit between the two. He pokes at his
food, pushing it around more than eating it, until Scott puts a hand on his
shoulder.
“Hey,” the shorter wolf says, and Isaac glances up from his food, seeing a
small smile on Scott's face. “Don't worry about it.”
Isaac can't help the smile that spreads across his face at this, giving Scott a
hearty nod before digging into his own food, thankful that another awkward
apology wasn't due. Stiles and Derek enter the kitchen a few minutes later,
Stiles sitting next to Erica, and Derek at the head of the table with Stiles to
his right. They eat in silence for most of the meal, until Isaac can't take it
any more and lays his fork across his plate with a clink.
“I'm sorry,” he says to the table at large, and everyone looks up suddenly,
startled, except for Derek, who continues eating as if he hasn't heard a thing.
Isaac waits a minute in the silence before trying again, “Derek-”
“Eat, Isaac,” the alpha says softly, still not looking up from his plate. Isaac
looks down at his own plate, finding it almost empty, anyway, and quietly
excuses himself from the table. He takes the stairs two at a time and drops
into his bed with a heavy exhale, digging around in his blankets for his phone.
When he finds it, he slides his thumb across the screen to unlock it, finding
three new messages from Peter. The first is a text simply saying,
Here we go.
The second is a muffled audio recording that sounds like it was taken from
inside someone's pocket. It features Derek's voice, growling out rather
colorful threats, each one interspersed with a very clear, “If you hurt him, I
swear--,” and overlaying the sounds of Peter's laughter, despite being audibly
punched. It ends abruptly, and Isaac can't help but laugh when he opens the
third message.
It's a picture, displaying the older man with a smug expression despite a
bruised, slightly bloody, and obviously beaten face. Underneath it, the man
wrote,
Well, that could have gone worse.
Isaac types out a quick,
Glad you're so relaxed about all of this.
He lays back against his pillows and closes his eyes, inhaling the scent of
Peter that has begun to fade from his bedding. He briefly considers putting on
a record, but decides against it as he listens to the sounds of his pack below
him, washing the dishes and cleaning up from dinner. He can hear Scott and
Stiles arguing about what movie to watch, and Stiles shrieking shrilly as Erica
shoots him with the sprayer on the sink. He laughs softly, but stops when the
floor outside of his room creaks, and he looks up to see Derek standing there.
Isaac sits up slowly, watching Derek watching him. Neither speak for a long
moment, and Isaac fiddles with his phone, opening the picture of Peter bruised
from Derek's beating. He holds it up, looking across the room at Derek.
“Feel better?” He asks, tone light, and Derek snorts a laugh, rolling his eyes.
“Marginally,” comes the reply, and Isaac smiles a little. He drops his phone to
the bed and folds his hands between his knees, looking down at the floor.
“I'm sorry,” he says again, and he can almost feel Derek quirk and eyebrow at
him.
“My uncle is manipulative, dangerous, a liar, and a killer,” Derek says,
crossing his arms, and Isaac glances up, mouth open to argue. He stops when he
sees the soft expression contradicting Derek's words on the alpha's face. “But
he was right when he said that constantly apologizing doesn't suit you.”
Isaac feels a tight squeeze in his chest and takes a shaking breath, looking up
at his alpha.
“I shouldn't have lied to you,” he says, voice tremulous and barely above a
whisper. Derek shrugs noncommittally.
“I shouldn't have been so hard on you,” the alpha counters, and Isaac nods a
bit in agreement, looking at his hands, still folded together and resting
between his knees. “If you can promise me that you'll be careful...”
Isaac looks up when Derek trails off, trying not to look too hopeful, but
knowing that he's probably not succeeding. Derek is looking at him expectantly,
and Isaac nods eagerly.
“I promise,” he swears, sitting up a little straighter, and Derek nods stiffly.
Isaac smiles breathlessly. “Thank you.”
Derek considers this, nodding again as he backs out of Isaac's room and
disappears back down the stairs. Isaac waits until he hears the conversation
downstairs pick up again before plucking his phone up from where he dropped it
and typing out another message to Peter.
I think I just got Derek's blessing.
He hits send with a grin.
Chapter End Notes
     I've got several great music recommendations sitting on a list on my
     desktop, waiting for the right moment to be used. However, I'm still
     taking more suggestion for music on my_blog, so feel free to drop_me
     a_link or just_say_hi! ♥
***** Escalation *****
Chapter Notes
     Hey everyone! Sorry for the delay on this chapter. I've been so busy
     lately that I haven't had much time to sit down and get stuff done.
     So here's a short little slice-of-life chapter for you. There's a bit
     of important story things at the beginning and throughout, but with
     the exception of the beginning, this is a feel-good chapter (for me,
     at least). The next will be another feel-good chapter before we get
     back into the ~plot~.
     Here's your playlist:
     1. Of Monsters And Men - Dirty Paws
     2. Moon Taxi - Young Journey
     3. Mother Mother - O My Heart
     4. David Byrne & St. Vincent - Who
     5. IAMX - Sorrow
     6. Arctic Monkeys - Still Take You Home
     7. Alabama Shakes - Rise To The Sun
     8. Delta Rae - Fire
     Funeral Suits - Mary's Revenge
The peaceful air within the pack only lasts a few days before everything goes
to hell again. Isaac and Boyd are coming home from lacrosse practice on Monday
with Erica in tow, when Isaac notices something seems off. They take the stairs
up to the loft at a supernatural speed, Isaac in the lead, followed by Erica
and Boyd. They stop short when they reach the door to the loft, which has been
pulled open. Isaac looks back at the other two, and signals with a short nod
that he'll take point, nearly tip-toeing through the open door.
“Isaac,” he nearly jumps out of his skin, focus whipping towards the couches
where the rasping voice had come from.
“Derek?” he asks, moving forward quickly and confirming for himself. Derek is
sprawled across one of the couches, thick red gashes slashed in his shirtless
chest. There is a small amount of blood at the corner of his mouth, which Isaac
watches as Derek tries and fails to pull himself into more of a sitting
position. Erica and Boyd have come to stand behind Isaac, watching as he
flutters his hands helplessly over his alpha's shredded torso. Isaac presses
one hand to a bit of unmarred flesh, holding his breath as he attempts to draw
some of the pain out of Derek. He watches the black seeping through his veins
before he pulls back, gasping. It's not a pleasant sensation, he thinks, or one
he'll ever get used to.
“What happened?” he tries once Derek looks a little more clear-headed. The
alpha wipes at his bloodied mouth with the back of his hand.
“Alpha pack,” the explanation is short, but it makes sense. All three of the
betas tense up at the mention, and Derek looks like he's trying not to wince.
“You have to leave.”
“Derek, we're not leaving you,” Boyd says behind him, and Isaac feels Erica nod
in agreement. Derek looks over Isaac's shoulders at the pair and shakes his
head slightly.
“I'll be fine. You need to go, find somewhere to stay,” Derek grunts as he
pulls himself up slightly, “Just for a few days.”
“Why?” Isaac asks, pressing a hand to Derek's shoulder, drawing a bit more of
the pain out. “What do they want?”
“They want me to kill you,” Derek grits out, pushing Isaac's hand away. The
teen cradles his hand, still buzzing with the sharp, tingling pull in his
veins. “So I can join their pack.”
Isaac sits back on his heels with a heavy sigh, turning to look at Erica and
Boyd. The two meet his gaze with a severity that Isaac can't ignore. With a
tight frown, he looks back at Derek.
“We're not leaving you,” he manages to keep his voice from trembling, but Derek
shoots him a sharp look which makes Isaac feel like hiding.
“If you don't leave, they will make me kill you. Just for a few days, Isaac,”
Derek presses, and Issac nods curtly, relenting. He stands and turns to face
Erica and Boyd, who look as lost and scared as he feels.
“Go pack what you need,” he tells them, following their reluctant and trudging
footsteps up the stairs. Derek had set them up in the extra room after their
return, and after he relaxed about Isaac's...whatever, with Peter, he let his
uncle take the three teens shopping for new clothes.
Isaac shoulders open the door to his own room, staring blankly at the mess of
clothes on the floor and the tangled blankets on his bed, everything how he
left it that morning. With a heavy sigh, he drops to his knees and begins
picking up articles of clothing, half-folding them before stuffing them into
his backpack. When he's certain he has enough, he pulls his phone out of his
pocket and selects the most recent contact, dialing the number. Peter picks up
as he's exiting into the hall, where Erica and Boyd are waiting.
“Yes, pup?” Isaac can't help but smile slightly at the amused, lightly
affectionate tone.
“I need a favor,” he says, leading his packmates toward the stairs. “Actually,
we need a favor.”
After briefly explaining the situation to Peter, the three exit the loft
reluctantly, leaving Derek where he is sleeping and slowly healing on the
couch. They wait outside for only a few minutes before Peter's silver Lexus
pulls up, which Isaac gets into quickly. Erica and Boyd hesitate for a second
before Boyd opens the door for her, then moves around to the other side and
gets in as well. Peter pulls away from the curb as soon as the doors are shut,
and Isaac fiddles with the radio from the passenger seat.
“You want to tell me what's going on?” the older man asks, shooting Isaac a
curious look. Isaac shifts his backpack where it's sitting on his lap and
stares forward out the windshield.
“The Alpha pack came for Derek. They want him to kill us,” Erica explains from
the seat behind Isaac, and Peter looks at her in the rear-view mirror.
“They want him in their pack,” Peter considers, and the other three say nothing
for the rest of the drive.
When Peter finally pulls into his lot and parks, they file out of the vehicle
silently, Isaac taking the lead in following Peter into the building. They take
the elevator up to his floor, somewhere near the middle of the building, and
when the elevator shudders to a stop and the doors open, Isaac peeks out into
the space curiously.
The entire building is an open space, with balconies circling the insides of
the walls which serve as the halls of each floor. Isaac leans over the railing
in the center and sees the lobby where they entered the building, letting Peter
grab him by the collar and gently pull him back away from the edge.
“This building is awesome,” Boyd remarks quietly as Peter leads them across the
polished concrete floors to a door nearby. Isaac looks at the gold polished
numbers, 307, and watches as Peter unlocks the door and pushes it open.
“It was built as a cold storage building back in the 20's and was shut down
just after 1986,” Peter explains as the three teens follow him into a narrow
hall lined with doors and spilling into an open space at the end. “They
modified it to make it lofts about 8 years ago.”
Peter leads them into the open-plan living room and kitchen area, and turns to
face them, looking fairly unamused with the idea of having three teenagers in
his house for an indeterminable amount of time. He points toward the hall.
“First door on the right is the bathroom, second door is my room. Don't go in
my room,” Erica rolls her eyes at this command, but Isaac files this bit of
information away for later use. “The door on the left is the spare room. You
can put your bags in there.”
Erica and Boyd turn to head to the spare room, and Isaac begins to follow,
stopping when he feels Peter's hand on his wrist.
“Isaac,” the sudden softness to his tone startles Isaac slightly, but he turns
to meet Peter's gaze, unable to read the older man's expression. They stare at
each other for a moment before Isaac take's a step closer, and Peter's fingers
release his wrist, only to come up to brush gently at his cheek.
“Thank you,” Isaac says, even as his eyes are closing at Peter's touch, a small
smile spreading over his face.
“I don't have much food, so I'll have to go to the store,” Peter says
conversationally, tone and words not belying the soft sweep of his fingertips
over Isaac's temple, cheekbone, and jaw.
“I'll go with you,” Erica announces from the hallway where she's leaning
against the wall, arms crossed and a smug grin on her face. Peter drops his
hand suddenly and Isaac's eyes flutter open as he turns to face her.
“Are you sure, Erica?” Isaac asks, adjusting his grip on his backpack, which is
still slung over his shoulder. Her gaze shifts from Isaac to Peter, grin
staying firm on her face.
“Totally,” she says, pushing off from the wall and coming to stand beside them,
one hand on her hip as she looks at Isaac. “You have homework you need to do,
right? Why don't you relax and get that done.”
Isaac looks between Erica's smug grin and Peter's slight, barely noticeable
frown. He nods weakly, leaning in to give Peter a quick, one-armed hug before
disappearing into the guest room with Boyd. Erica rocks back on her heels, then
up onto her toes, grinning up at Peter.
“Shall we?” She laughs at the look he gives her, but follows him to the door,
pausing to croon back to the boys, “Be back soon!”
She prances after Peter, stopping when she catches up to him at the elevator.
She's still looking at him with the same smug grin when he turns an arched
eyebrow in her direction.
“Are you satisfied with yourself?” He asks as the doors open and he steps
inside. She follows him, cocking her head a bit to the side as the doors shut
and the elevator shakes before beginning it's slow descent.
“Marginally. Sorry for being a cock-block, but I wanted to interrogate you in
private,” she gives him a side-eyed glance, and sees the slight amused quirk of
his mouth as he huffs a laugh through his nose. Her grin drops slightly when he
reaches out and hits the emergency stop, and the elevator shudders to a sudden
stop, paused between the first and second floor. He turns on her quickly,
pinning her to the wall with a hand on either side of her head. She snarls at
him, fangs lengthening, and touches the tips of her claws to his throat.
“Do you want to find out which one of us is faster?” He taunts, leaning close,
and she snorts but doesn't reply.
“Are you fucking with Isaac?” She asks instead, and Peter flinches backward
slightly to look her in the eye. She quirks an eyebrow and presses the tips of
her claws a bit harder at his throat.
“Fucking him, yes. Fucking with him? No,” Peter smirks slightly. Erica looks
unimpressed but retracts her claws from his throat.
“If I find out you're fucking with him, I'll be next in line to rip your throat
out,” she threatens, and Peter laughs, moving away. He hits the emergency stop
button and the elevator shudders into life again.
“I'll keep that in mind, Princess,” Peter says, and Erica has the distinct
feeling that he's saying so only to placate her. The elevator dings and the
doors open, and Erica follows behind Peter with tight footsteps. She slips into
the car as soon as the doors unlock and begins fiddling with the radio as soon
as the engine turns over. Peter shoots her an irritated glance but says
nothing, letting her investigate his presets, the 6-CD changer, and the iPod
sitting in the cup holder.
Peter's favorite small, market-type grocery is barely a block away, and Erica
is still going through his iPod when he parks.
“There's stuff on here I've never even heard of,” Erica remarks casually,
making a noise of protest when Peter plucks the device from her hands and
tosses it into the glove compartment.
“I'm not surprised,” is all he says as he exits the car and she rushes to
follow.
“So you're a music fan?” Erica asks, attempting conversation as they cross the
parking lot and make their way into the store. Peter makes a noncommittal noise
in the back of this throat as he chooses a cart and walks to the produce
section. She follows after him, hands stuffed into the pockets of her leather
jacket. She watches as he carefully selects pieces of fruit and various
vegetables, “And you like to cook.”
“I wanted to be a chef when I was younger,” he remarks casually, and Erica is
just thrilled that she finally got a response.
“What happened?” She follows him to the deli, waits impatiently as he makes
several large orders for meats and cheeses, some of which she's never heard of
before.
“A psychopath seduced my nephew and burned my family alive,” he says as they're
walking away from the deli counter. Erica glances over her shoulder at the
clerk, but he didn't seem to hear. She snorts as she moves to catch up with
Peter again.
“No shit,” she says, grabbing several packages of cookies and chips and dumping
them into the cart as they pass a display. Peter gives her a look but doesn't
protest. “I mean, why don't you go for it now?”
“As if there isn't enough to worry about,” he replies cynically, picking up
several more items before speaking again, “I don't think I could make a solid
career anymore.” They're passing a display of cereal when Erica picks up
several boxes of Captain Crunch and tosses them into the cart. Peter gives her
the same look from before and she grins, shoving her hands back into her
pockets.
“It's Isaac's favorite,” she says. He lets the boxes stay.
Erica is still cringing about the bill when they're back at Peter's building,
unloading bags of groceries from the back of the Lexus. They manage to just get
everything into the loft between the two of them, bless those werewolf powers,
Erica thinks as she watches Isaac and Boyd rifle through the bags while Peter
files things away in cupboards and drawers. When they've finished putting
everything away, Peter shoos the three teens out of the kitchen and starts on
dinner. Boyd and Isaac get comfortable on the couch, working on homework, and
Erica sneaks back into the kitchen a few times to watch Peter cook.
They sit at the small table near one of the large loft windows and eat dinner
in silence. The three younger betas disappear into the guest room after dinner,
leaving the clean-up to Peter, who loads the dishwasher and sets it to run
before switching off the lights and moving into his own room for the night.
He's sitting in bed in a pair of lounge pants with a large book propped on his
knees thirty minutes later when the door swings open and Isaac creeps in. He
stands by the door, watching Peter highlight a section in the book and mark an
annotation in the margin with a pen, and doesn't realize he's staring until
Peter speaks.
“Did you need something, pup?” He asks without looking up, highlighting another
section and making another annotation to the side. Isaac shakes his head
mutely, reaching behind him for the doorknob. His fingers brush it and Peter
shuts the book, setting it on the table beside his bed with the pen and
highlighter. “Come here, then.”
Isaac steps away from the door, and just barely manages not to throw himself
into the bed beside the older man. He scoots in close, humming when Peter turns
the bedside lamp off and rolls onto his side, wrapping a warm, firm arm around
Isaac's waist. Isaac presses their foreheads together and closes his eyes,
smiling when Peter's hand skates up and down his back under his t-shirt.
“I missed you,” Isaac says quietly, and Peter's hand pauses at his lower back,
pressing knuckles into the muscles there before moving back up, gently
massaging along Isaac's spine.
“Go to sleep, pup,” Peter says, and Isaac lets himself curl into Peter's warmth
and scent and fall into a deep sleep.
***** Laying Claim *****
Chapter Notes
     Oh snap! A double update? That's right!
     This is a pure porn chapter, in thanks for over 5000 views! You guys
     are AMAZING! Seriously. Thanks so much to all of you for continuing
     to read and comment with every update. It's hugely flattering and
     such a privilege for me to be writing this for you guys.
     Here's a playlist for you:
     1. Foster The People - Call It What You Want
     2. IAMX - Volatile Times
     3. Saint Motel - You Do It Well
     4. Florence + The Machine - I'm Not Calling You A Liar
     5. Mother Mother - Ghosting
     6. Silversun Pickups - Here We Are (Chancer)
     7. One Republic - Something I Need
When Isaac wakes up the next morning, he has momentarily forgotten where he is.
The unfamiliar bedroom is dimly lit by the light filtering in from under the
door, and the only thing that draws him back is the long line of Peter's warmth
pressed against his back and the arm around his waist. His memory of the day
before comes back to him in blurred flashes, followed by the memory of the
dream he was having before he woke up.
He feels his face warm up at the thought of that dream, a rather explicit one
about himself and Peter, and shifts slightly against the warmth behind him. His
face heats up more when his new position is doing nothing to stop him from
pressing his ass against the half-hardness of Peter's cock. The other wolf
grunts slightly at the new contact and leans forward, rumbling slightly in
Isaac's ear. There's a soft snuffling before his breathing evens out again and
Isaac lets out a slow, relieved sigh of breath.
He lays there for a long time, trying to think of anything to quell the half-
hardness forming in his own pants, but the feeling of Peter pressed so firmly
against his back, breath ghosting gently over his ear, isn't helping. Isaac
finally lets out a defeated sigh before shifting his hips slightly, pressing
his ass more firmly against Peter. Isaac has to suppress a shudder when Peter
wakes with a soft groan, breath passing over the shell of Isaac's ear. The
man's grip shifts from his waist to his hip, tightening slightly over the bone.
“Good morning,” Peter coos in Isaac's ear, voice sleep-rough, warm, and
honeyed. Isaac closes his eyes at this, pressing back into Peter again, gasping
when Peter grips his hip and rolls his own hips up to meet Isaac's. The older
wolf growls softly at the contact and Isaac can't help the soft moan that
escapes him when Peter nips gently at his shoulder through his sleep shirt.
“Good morning, yourself,” Isaac says breathlessly after a moment, pressing
himself back against Peter again and moaning as Peter grinds against him. Peter
nips at his shoulder again, wolf teeth pricking at his skin through his shirt,
and Isaac arches into it, biting his fist to stifle the noise he makes. Peter
hums at this, obviously pleased at the reaction, and smooths his hand up and
down Isaac's side, brushing over his ribs and curling around his chest,
fingertips pressing gently against his nipples before sliding back down and
trailing over his abs and hips. Isaac whimpers slightly, tilting his head back,
and Peter latches onto the exposed skin of his neck, sucking a tender, red mark
into the flesh.
“Peter,” Isaac gasps, moving a hand to grip at the one that is trailing up and
down his side. Peter moves their hands, together, to brush over Isaac's hip and
thigh, and Isaac presses into the touch, sighing a moan. Peter rumbles softly
behind him again and Isaac can feel the vibrations through his back. The older
wolf nips at his jaw and dips his fingers into the top hem of Isaac's sleep
pants, growling softly at the quiet gasp Isaac lets out when Peter combs his
fingers through the trail of coarse, curled hair below his navel. His fingers
dip lower, and Isaac can't help the breathless keening sound that he releases
when Peter finally wraps his fingers around his erection.
“Do you have any idea how long I've waited for this?” Peter whispers against
his ear, making Isaac shudder. The man strokes Isaac gently, fingers grazing
lazily over the head of his cock, down to his balls, and back up. Isaac shivers
and presses a hand to his mouth, trying to muffle the soft, desperate noises
slipping past his lips. He arches into the touch and gasps, panting against his
own hand. Peter croons in his ear, wrapping his fingers around the teen's
length and stroking slowly, thumb brushing over the head with each up stroke.
“So many things I want to do to you, Isaac.”
“Like what?” Isaac manages to gasp the words out from behind his hand, quickly
covering his mouth again to stifle another moan when Peter's grip on him
tightens slightly. He can't help but try to swivel his hips, trying to push his
erection further into the older wolf's grasp. Peter growls warningly in his ear
and Isaac reluctantly ceases the motion of his hips, breathing heavily with the
effort of staying still while Peter's fingers are still playing at the skin of
his cock. Isaac whimpers pitifully when Peter bites the skin of his neck
roughly while simultaneously trailing a claw up the underside of his dick.
“The first day, in the house,” Peter says after he releases Isaac's throat. He
licks up a small bead of blood from a puncture that's already healed. “I wanted
so badly to throw you down and fuck you right there.”
Isaac groans louder against his hand still clenched against his mouth, bucking
up into Peter's grip again. The older man growls and Isaac stops with a short,
stuttering motion, groaning at the way Peter's dick is pressed against his ass.
“All the ways I could claim you,” Peter hums into his hair. He removes his hand
from Isaac's pants long enough to push the teen over onto his back and to climb
on top of him. Peter straddles the younger wolf's thighs and pushes his shirt
up, leaning down to kiss and bite at Isaac's chest. Isaac pulls his shirt off
the remainder of the way and lays back, one hand weaving into Peter's hair as
the man kisses and nips his way down Isaac's torso, sucking angry red welts
into the spaces above his collarbones. The teen tilts his head back with a
shuddering sigh, eyes closing as Peter continues kissing and sucking at
apparently random spots on his body.
“I could take you like this, on your back,” Peter whispers against his skin,
clawed fingertips trailing reverently over the lines of Isaac's ribs, barely
peeking out through the muscle that has started to build up on his sides. The
teen shudders and opens his eyes, watching as Peter stops to bite sharply at a
spot just above his navel. The older man makes eye contact with him as he
kisses tenderly over the reddened skin.
“What's stopping you?” Isaac asks breathlessly, watching as Peter sits up and
carefully reaches back into the front of Isaac's pants, extracting the younger
man's straining erection. The older man hums instead of answering and wraps his
fingers around Isaac's length, spreading pre-cum across the head with his
thumb. Isaac groans, eyes fluttering shut again as the warm contact sends
shivers down his spine. His eyes snap open again a moment later when Peter's
hand disappears from his cock, and Isaac sees this is because Peter has brought
his palm up to his mouth and is licking it in long, wet lines. He glances down
at Isaac with a small smirk as he does this, before dropping his hand back to
the teen's length and giving it a teasing stroke.
“I prefer my privacy,” Peter remarks casually, and Isaac suddenly remembers
Erica and Boyd are supposed to be sleeping across the hall. He bites off a
particularly loud moan, feeling his face flushing with a combination of arousal
and embarrassment. If anything, his dick gets impossibly harder at the idea
that they can hear. Peter seems to notice this and chuckles, “Although
apparently it's not such a priority for you.”
Isaac laughs breathlessly, but the sound quickly turns into a moan when Peter
strokes him with a certain flick of his wrist. He takes a deep, shaking breath,
trying to gain some composure, but falls into another shuddering moan as Peter
leans down and takes one of his nipples between his teeth, pressing it with his
tongue.
“W-Want them to hear,” Isaac gasps, trying to buck into Peter's grip again. He
knows he's close, just needs a little more. Peter smirks against his skin and
licks across to lav the flat of his tongue against Isaac's other nipple,
chuckling darkly at the keening noise Isaac makes.
“Pup has a secret voyeurism kink?” Peter's tone is filled with amusement, and
Isaac clenches his teeth, shaking his head. Peter kisses a gentle line down
Isaac's sternum before sitting up again, pausing the motion of his hand on
Isaac's cock. “What, then?”
Isaac's hands are clenched in the sheets beside him, claws tearing shreds in
the fabric. He takes a deep, shuddering breath and lets it out slowly, managing
to pry his eyes open to look up at Peter.
“I want to be your b-,” Isaac stops, swallows, and amends, “I want to be yours.
I want everyone to know it.” Peter's eyes glow the cold, steel blue that Isaac
has grown used to, and Isaac manages to bite back a moan and Peter strokes him
forcefully, meaningfully.
“They will, pup,” Peter says, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of
Isaac's jaw. “I promise they will.”
His strokes become firm and pointed, and Isaac is gasping and writhing under
him a few minutes later when Peter drags his claws down Isaac's chest as the
teen comes. Peter strokes him through to the end of his orgasm, and Isaac looks
up at him, heartbeat racing, as Peter brings his cum-splattered hand up to his
mouth and begins to clean it obscenely. He winks at Isaac, and the teen lets
out a small, disbelieving huff of a laugh.
Peter slides down Isaac's legs slightly and leans forward to lick the spunk
from his stomach, pressing his tongue across the healing scratch marks as well.
Isaac groans, one hand twitching helplessly in Peter's hair as the man cleans
him. When he's finished, he tucks Isaac back into his pants and slides back to
his place beside the teen. Isaac closes his eyes and lets his breathing even
out, hand seeking out Peter's and lacing their fingers together without really
thinking about it. The older man doesn't seem to mind, and gives Isaac's hand a
gentle squeeze in apparent approval.
After several long minutes recovering, Isaac remembers that he wasn't the only
one who woke up with morning wood. He shifts slightly onto his side to look at
Peter, mouth opening to form an inquiry.
“Don't worry about it,” Peter interrupts him, and Isaac frowns slightly.
“I want to,” Isaac insists, and Peter quirks an eyebrow, but doesn't argue. He
settles in on his back and kicks the blankets to the end of the bed, where they
sit restlessly before falling in a heap to the floor. He looks at Isaac with a
challenging smirk.
“Be my guest.”
Isaac releases Peter's hand and carefully, nervously, climbs over to the man,
straddling his thighs like Peter did to him. He watches as Peter folds his
hands behind his head and looks at him smugly, but turns his gaze back to the
obvious tent in the front of the man's pants with determination. He works his
fingers under the hem of the older man's pants and tugs gently, shifting the
fabric down a few inches. He ignores the expectant look that Peter gives him
and brushes one hand up over the man's abs, letting his claws prick and pull at
the skin there. He feels Peter's muscles jump under the touch and smirks,
dipping his other hand into the man's pants.
Peter lets out a small breath, but makes no other noises or motions when Isaac
takes him firmly in his hand, pulling the man's flushed and swollen cock free.
Isaac makes a small noise at the back of his throat, eyes fluttering up to
watch Peter's face as he strokes firmly, thumb pressing against the spot just
under the head, fingers tracing the veins. Peter closes his eyes and tilts his
head back slightly, and Isaac presses on, using both hands now to explore the
other man's dick.
He wraps one hand around it again to stroke teasingly while using his other
hand to gently roll Peter's balls. Isaac glances up and feels a small surge of
pride to find that Peter's mouth has fallen open slightly and his fingers and
gripping the pillow beneath his head tightly. Isaac carefully slides a bit
further down Peter's legs, and the older man looks up at him questioningly when
Isaac takes hold of him again. The teen smiles up at him shyly before leaning
in close and darting his tongue out to lick at the head of the man's cock.
Peter inhales sharply, watching Isaac with a much more intense gaze as the teen
sits up, licking at his lips before ducking back down again. Peter lets out a
small groan when Isaac rolls his tongue along the underside of the head while
looking up at the other wolf through his eyelashes.
“Have you done this before?” Peter asks, voice slightly strained, and Isaac
takes a bit of pride in that as he gives the tip a tentative lick, tasting the
salty pre-cum gathered there. He hums lightly, deciding he likes the taste, and
gives a bolder lick across the tip. One of Peter's hands moves from under his
head to weave his fingers through Isaac's hair, gripping it lightly. The teen
smiles at this as he looks up at Peter and wets his lips.
“No,” he answers simply, then takes the head into his mouth, hollowing his
cheeks and pressing his tongue against the underside. Peter tugs sharply at his
hair, causing Isaac to moan. The resulting vibrations make Peter tilt his own
head back in a groan, eyes shutting as Isaac pulls off of him with an obscene
'pop'. The teen dives back down a moment later, taking more of Peter's length
into his mouth, moaning around it as he presses clumsily with his tongue. He
hollows his cheeks again as he sucks, and Peter moans, pressing his fingertips
into Isaac's scalp, trying not to thrust into his mouth. He looks down at the
teen, taking in the sight of his flushed cheeks and pink lips wrapped around
his cock, and lets out another groan.
“Yes, just like that,” he encourages when Isaac takes a little more of him in,
and Peter can feel him swallowing around his dick. “You look so good with your
mouth on my cock.”
Peter smirks as Isaac's eyes flutter shut and the teen moans, and Peter gives
his hair a gentle tug. Isaac pulls back slightly before swallowing more of him,
stopping just before he begins to choke.
“Good boy, Isaac,” Peter croons, and Isaac moans loudly. “You're such a good
boy. Do you like sucking me off?”
Isaac moans again, nodding as little as he can with Peter's dick still mostly
in his mouth. He has started working the length he can't fit into his mouth
with his other hand, stroking quickly and firmly, pausing occasionally to roll
the man's balls and give them gentle squeezes. When he looks up at Peter again,
the man's face and neck are flushed all the way down to the top of his chest,
but he's smirking right back down at Isaac. The teen pulls off of his dick,
swallowing down a mouth full of drool and pre-cum, licking his lips clean
before letting Peter guide him up for a bruising kiss.
Peter's tongue and teeth dominate the kiss, and Isaac lets him, moaning against
his mouth. When Peter releases him, Isaac shimmies back down to take Peter's
cock into his mouth again, swallowing down as much as possible before hollowing
his cheeks and bobbing quickly. Peter tips his head back with a groan, his grip
tightening in Isaac's hair again as he thrusts upwards into the wet heat of
Isaac's mouth. Isaac does his best not to choke, swallowing frequently and
pulling up often enough to get a good breath of air before returning to nearly
deep throating the man.
“Fuck, Isaac,” Peter gasps, trying to swivel his hips to gain more of that
sweet heat. Isaac has pulled off of him again and is jerking him firmly.
“What are you waiting for?” Isaac teases, voice rough and low. He chuckles
softly, leaning forward to lick at the head of Peter's dick again. “I want you
to come in my mouth.”
Isaac sinks back down onto Peter's cock again, swallowing him all of the way as
Peter's orgasm hits him. His back arches off of the bed with a groan, one
clawed hand fisted in Isaac's hair, the other still clinging to the now-
shredded pillow. Isaac swallows as much as he can, not caring much when he
feels a slight trickle on his chin. When he pulls away, he concentrates first
on licking Peter clean the way Peter had done for him before moving up the bed
toward the other man.
Peter grins when he opens his eyes and sees a bit of his seed on Isaac's chin,
and he wipes it off carefully with the edge of his thumb. Isaac takes the digit
into his mouth before Peter can object and sucks it clean, working his tongue
against the calloused skin.
When Isaac flops back down beside Peter, he immediately curls in close to the
older man, who slings a lazy arm across his waist and begins to trace patterns
on his back. They lay like this for several long minutes before Erica clears
her throat loudly on the other side of the bedroom door.
“If you two are finished, Boyd and I would really like to go to school, and we
need the spare key,” she sounds mildly irritated, and Isaac hides his face in
Peter's shoulder, groaning in embarrassment as the older man laughs.
“On the coffee table next to my laptop,” Peter replies simply.
“Thanks,” Erica calls out after a bit of shuffling, and they both listen as the
loft door shuts behind the two. When Isaac is sure they're gone, he lifts his
head, cheeks still flushed pink in his humiliation.
“They heard all of that,” he complains, nudging Peter in the side. The older
man smirks, taking Isaac's hand in his own and kissing the pads of his fingers.
“You wanted them to,” the older man reminds him, and Isaac nods, feeling his
face heat up more. They sit in silence for a few minutes, Peter idly examining
Isaac's long, thin fingers, and Isaac watching the man's expression curiously.
“So...” Isaac trails off, honestly not sure what he wants to say. Peter looks
up at him, eyebrow quirked, and Isaac flushes again with embarrassment.
“Turning shy on me now, pup?” Peter teases, tugging gently at Isaac's fingers,
and the teen shakes his head.
“You were saying,” Isaac begins, swallows nervously, then continues, “All of
the things you wanted to do to me?”
Peter's smile turns wicked.
***** Omen *****
Chapter Notes
     Hey guys! Sorry this has taken so long to get done, I've had a hell
     of a time recently and needed to take a break to deal with some
     responsibilities outside of the internet. But now that things are
     mostly dealt with, I can get back to working on this baby!
     I'm hoping to draw it to a close in the next 6 or so chapters; I'm
     shooting for a total length of 25 chapters, give or take for some
     epilogue stuff.
     Here's your playlist for this chapter:
     1. Jefferson Airplane - White Rabbit
     2. The Hoosiers - Worst Case Scenario
     3. Franz Ferdinand - Evil Eye
     4. Broken Bells - Perfect World
     5. Kongos - I'm Only Joking
See the end of the chapter for more notes
It's just after three in the afternoon when Erica and Boyd get back from
school. They're greeted by the smell of recent cooking when they enter the
loft, and Erica stops at the guest room to toe off her high heels before
padding into the main area, Boyd following closely behind her. They find Isaac
and Peter sitting at the table digging into twin stacks of double chocolate
pancakes, chatting quietly while the record player spins on the counter top.
Erica places a hand on her hip, cataloging the dark blue knitted scarf draped
around Peter's neck and the black v-neck shirt that hangs a bit loosely on
Isaac.
“Is this a private party?” She taunts, smirking when Isaac looks up, mouth full
of pancakes and looking slightly startled at her existence.
“There's more in the fridge,” Peter replies lightly, raising his coffee cup to
his lips and taking a long sip. Erica folds her arms over her chest as Boyd
moves past her with a gentle nudge and heads for the extra pancakes.
“We went to see Derek earlier,” Isaac tells her, preferring to keep pack
business out in the open, and he knows it's as much Boyd and Erica's business
as it is his.
“How is he?” Boyd asks after swallowing down an inhuman bite of pancake.
“Better,” Isaac says, pausing to sip at his coffee. “Stiles is taking care of
him.”
Boyd snorts and rolls his eyes, and Erica coos. Peter shares in Boyd's eye-
roll.
“We'll have to go see him tomorrow,” Erica tells Boyd from across the counter,
and he nods his agreement, taking another large bite of pancake. She turns her
attention back to Isaac. “What excuse did you give him for skipping school?”
Isaac flushes a vibrant shade of red and clears his throat several times before
speaking.
“I, uh, told him I was worried about him,” Isaac says lamely, setting his
coffee cup down just to have something to look at instead of his packmate.
“Oh, so he thinks that Boyd and I aren't concerned? Real nice, sunshine,” she
snips, and Isaac twitches slightly, glaring at her. “I'm sure he'd love to hear
the real reason you skipped school.”
Isaac snarls and stabs his fork into the table top, glare sharpening. Erica
doesn't flinch, but growls back, dropping her hands to her sides as her claws
extend. Isaac starts to stand, but Peter stops him by looping the extra length
of scarf around the teen's neck, tugging him backwards gently as Isaac starts
to rise from his seat.
“Calm down, both of you,” Peter chides and looks at Boyd, who is still holding
the plate of pancakes in one hand and a half-eaten pancake in the other. He
looks more bored than concerned at the sight of his packmates fighting. Peter
sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose for dramatics. “I never wanted
children.”
This elicits a muffled chuckle from Boyd as Erica puffs up and flips her hair
over her shoulder. The situation is mostly diffused, so Isaac returns to his
food and Erica joins Boyd in hovering over the plate from the fridge, taking a
pancake in each perfectly manicured hand and tearing at them ravenously. Peter
finishes his food first, perfectly timed with the end of the record, so he
moves the needle from the record and rinses his plate in the sink before
putting it in the dishwasher. He disappears to his room while Isaac cleans up
the rest of the dishes, and Erica and Boyd lean against the counter, watching
in silence. Isaac puts the last dish into the dishwasher and wipes his hands on
the towel laying on the counter, frowning at the pair.
“Okay, seriously, what,” he deadpans, looking between them, and Erica suddenly
becomes extremely interested in her fingernails, while Boyd shrugs defensively.
“Nothing,” the other boy says, shoving his hands into his pockets and glancing
sideways at Erica. She is still examining the perfect red polish on her nails,
expression betraying her true interest in the conversation. Boyd looks back at
Isaac and shrugs again, “We were just wondering if this is going to be a
regular thing.”
Isaac quirks an eyebrow, clearly confused, and Boyd takes a hand out of his
pocket to gesture vaguely between Isaac and the direction of Peter's bedroom.
Isaac turns pink, crossing his arms over his chest, remembers belatedly that
he's wearing one of Peter's shirts, and his blush darkens.
“I don't know. I guess,” he says noncommittally, refusing to look either of his
packmates in the eye. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he fishes it out
quickly, thankful for the distraction. He makes a face at the picture of Stiles
lit up on his screen, and slides his thumb across before holding the device to
his ear. “Stiles? What's up?”
“It was a diversion,” Stiles sounds breathless and slightly panicked on the
other line. Erica drops her disinterested facade immediately, looking at
Isaac's phone with concern. Stiles takes a couple of deep, shaking breaths
before continuing, “The alpha pack, they weren't after Derek at all. It's
Scott.”
Isaac puts the phone on speaker and holds it between himself, Boyd, and Erica.
Boyd looks between Isaac and Erica, sees that they're equally confused.
“What's Scott?” He asks, and there is a shuffling noise on the other line, so
he says, “Stiles!”
“They weren't after me,” says Derek's voice, and he sounds like he's still in
some pain from the previous day's attack, or from a new one, but it's hard to
tell. They can still hear Stiles freaking out in the background. “They're after
Scott. He's something we call a True Alpha. It's rare, very rare. Deucalion
wanted Scott in his pack, not me.”
“Wanted,” Peter repeats, appearing next to Isaac, “Meaning what?”
“He's gone,” Derek sounds pained again, and this time it's obvious it's not
physical. “He went with them.”
The four wolves share a look, confusion and concern evident, and all they can
hear from the other line is Derek's slightly labored breathing and Stile's
distressed ranting in the background.
“So what do we do?” Boyd asks after a quiet moment, and Derek is quiet for a
moment in which Isaac is almost sure the alpha is shaking his head.
“I don't know,” Derek sounds resigned, but Peter snatches the phone away from
Isaac, holding it closer to he can talk to his nephew.
“Derek, listen to me. Stay put, we're on our way, we'll figure something out
when we get there,” he sounds confident and sure, and the hair on the back of
Isaac's neck raises at just how authoritative Peter sounds. Like an alpha.
He snaps to when Peter is pressing his phone back into his hand. The call has
ended and Erica and Boyd have left the room; Isaac can hear them through the
wall, changing into fight-appropriate clothes. They're preparing for battle.
“Isaac,” Peter's voice pulls him out of his thoughts, and when Isaac looks up
at him, he realizes that he's holding Peter's hand in a death grip. The older
man's free hand comes up to stroke his cheek gently, dipping down to trace the
line of his jaw. “It's going to be okay.”
Isaac opens his mouth to reply, to tell Peter he's not concerned, he knows
they'll work it out, but his breath catches in his throat and he can't form the
words. Peter sighs and wraps his hand around the back of the teen's neck,
pulling him close and pressing their cheeks together. Isaac can feel Peter's
breath tickling at the shell of his ear as the man rubs their cheeks together,
his stubble scraping in a way that sends jolts of pleasure down Isaac's spine.
He realizes that Peter is whispering in his ear, gentle, soothing things that
Isaac thinks aren't really helping, but he can feel himself relaxing.
“We're ready,” Erica announces from the hallway, and Peter pulls away, hand
still on the back of Isaac's neck. He looks at Isaac expectantly until the teen
nods, a brief and unsure signal that he's okay. Peter smiles slightly, a soft
curve of his mouth that Isaac hasn't seen on him before, but he only gets a
glimpse of it before Peter pushes his head down gently with the hand at the
back of his neck and kisses Isaac's forehead. When he breaks away and heads for
the door, grabbing his keys from the coffee table, he looks like normal Peter,
and Isaac lets the whirlwind of confusion carry him out the door with the pack.
The drive to Derek's loft is short but seems even shorter while Isaac's
consumed with the reality that Scott, the only person he's really trusted for
so long, has joined the alpha pack. The worst part is that he can't bring
himself to be mad, instead he just feels confused, betrayed, disappointed. At
some point during the drive, Peter reaches over and takes his hand, lacing
their fingers together and squeezing his hand gently, reassuringly. It doesn't
help, but Isaac appreciates it.
When they get into Derek's loft, Isaac is startled to see Derek, Stiles, Danny,
Lydia, and Allison sitting around the table. Derek and Stiles are sitting so
close their arms are touching, constantly brushing against each other as they
shift papers and point things out to each other. Lydia is quietly talking to
Danny, pointing at various diagrams, texts, and illustrations, filling him in
on the finer details of the situation. Isaac sees Erica lock eyes with Allison,
and the blonde girl begins growling, fangs extending.
“Erica,” Derek barks, attention suddenly on them, and she winces away from the
red glint in his eyes. “Now is not the time.”
“When is the time, Derek?” Boyd asks, folding his arms across his chest, but
the alpha fixes him with a meaningful look, and Boyd looks away without a word.
Isaac's hand and side are cold, and he realizes that Peter has drifted away
from him and across the room to where Derek and Stiles are sitting, and begins
pouring over the maps and what look to Isaac to be blueprints. Isaac feels eyes
on him and looks up to see Derek looking at him, glancing at his scarf around
Peter's neck, Isaac wearing Peter's shirt, and Isaac can see the muscles in his
alpha's jaw tensing and braces himself for the confrontation.
It never comes. Derek suddenly turns his attention back to Stiles who is
arguing with Peter about something, and Isaac forces himself to move across the
room to the other side of the table, where Allison is sitting. She gives him a
wobbly half-smile when he approaches and pats him on the arm gently.
“You doing okay?” She asks, and he raises an eyebrow at her, leaning in to
nudge her gently.
“I should be asking you that,” he replies, tone light, and she swallows hard,
looking anywhere but at him.
“I'm fine,” she says, and he doesn't believe it, but he can tell that she
really does. He decides to leave it be, but squeezes her shoulder gently,
comfortingly, before Lydia hooks his arm in hers and drags him away from the
group. Isaac peers over his shoulder at everyone as she drags him away,
catching Danny's gaze and seeing the teen offer a small, sympathetic wave.
“Isaac,” she begins, voice honey-sweet, and Isaac can already tell this isn't
going to end well as he turns his gaze away from Danny and back to the girl in
front of him. “I think we need to talk.”
“Do we?” He asks, attempting to feign innocence. She stares at him for a
moment, looks pointedly across the room at the blue knitted scarf wrapped
around Peter's neck, then turns her gaze back to Isaac.
“We really do,” she says.
“He was cold,” he shrugs weakly, but he's too much of a coward to make eye
contact with the girl that Peter left for dead on the lacrosse field last fall.
“It's May,” Lydia snaps, crossing her arms and tapping her heeled shoe on the
floor impatiently.
“Look, Lydia,” he starts, but stops when she holds a hand up, one manicured
nail poking into his chest sharply.
“Don't even,” she yells, voice sharp, and Isaac can hear a hush settle over the
rest of the room, everyone's focus shifting to Lydia. “I don't know what's the
matter with you, but you need to see a therapist or- or something, instead of
doing this.”
Isaac opens his mouth to argue back, but she presses her nail into his chest
again, and he stops.
“Because you obviously have some kind of dysfunction, screwing around with the
guy that almost killed ninety percent of your friends before being killed and
then manipulated me into raising him from the dead. Is it the danger? Are you
into the undead? Or does the age difference do it for you? Maybe he fulfills
some sort of sick, twisted daddy kink-”
“Shut up,” Isaac roars, clawed hand gripping her by the throat. Derek is on his
feet immediately, eyes glowing red as he moves toward Isaac. Stiles shouts,
“Hey!” and Allison draws her bow and points an arrow at the teen holding her
best friend several inches off the floor. Lydia claws at Isaac's hand with her
own nails, trying to gain a breath, which she barely manages to do. She gasps
in a short, sharp breath and lets it out in a choked, wailing, earth-shattering
scream.
Isaac drops her immediately, hands moving up to cover his ears in defense
against the shrill, piercing noise. The other wolves in the room do the same,
while Stiles, Allison and Danny stare on in muted horror, wincing at the
inhuman noise coming from their friend. Lydia's scream dies off like a siren
fading, and she's left gasping for air at the end of it, looking terrified.
“What the hell was that,” Danny is the first to speak, looking like he's ready
to leave and pretend he never learned about werewolves or anything remotely
supernatural.
“A banshee,” Peter replies, following the statement with a slight grunt as he
wiggles a finger in his ear, wincing. Derek looks at him questioningly, and
Stiles rolls his eyes, throwing his hands up in the air.
“Of course,” Stiles says, apparently to himself as he flips through an open
book on the table and scribbles something in the margin of one of the pages. He
continues, grumbling, “Why not?”
Danny scrubs a hand over his face and moves to Lydia's aid, taking her gently
by the arm and leading her towards the couch. He shoots Isaac a look over his
shoulder as he sits with her, gently rubbing her back as she takes wet, gasping
breaths through her tears. Isaac flexes his claws, head still ringing from the
proximity and volume of Lydia's scream, but his attention is pulled back when
Stiles clears his throat.
“Okay, yeah, we're obviously not getting anywhere here and that is a serious
problem because my best friend has joined a murderous pack of alpha werewolves
and we have no idea why or how to get him back,” Stiles rambles, gaining
everyone's attention – even Lydia, who is hiccuping back sobs in an attempt to
get control over herself. Isaac moves back towards the table and leans heavily
against Peter when he gets there, less for comfort than to rub it in everyone's
face, if he's being honest with himself. Only Erica notices Derek's hand
resting soothingly in the curve of Stiles' back, and she elbows Boyd sharply in
the ribs, gesturing discreetly in their direction. When he sees, he quietly
digs out his wallet and passes Erica a twenty.
“Wait,” Peter says, drifting away from Isaac's side yet again as he circles
around the table toward the couch. He stops in front of Lydia and bends a knee,
lowering himself to her level. “This is very important, Lydia. Are you
listening to me?”
Lydia is dabbing at the corners of her eyes with a tissue from her purse,
sniffling delicately. She gives Peter a sour look, but nods anyway.
“Do you know why a banshee screams?” Peter asks her, reaching up slowly to take
the tissue from her hand. She flinches away from the initial touch, but stares
blankly when he begins to gently wipe at the wet trails on her cheeks. The room
is hushed as she shakes her head numbly, but Danny pipes up from beside her,
surprising everyone.
“In old legends, a banshee's scream was considered an omen of death,” he says,
looking at Peter with a mix of curiosity and irritation; Lydia makes a small
sound but says nothing.
“That's right,” Peter replies, looking at Danny for the first time since they
arrived at Derek's loft. “A banshee can sense death, and will scream when
someone is about to die. So the question is-”
“Who's about to die?” Stiles finishes, hands shaking over the books and
blueprints. Derek grabs one of his hands, holding it steady.
“Let's go over it again,” Derek says, looking up at Stiles with possibly the
most encouraging expression Isaac has ever seen on the alpha's face. Stiles
nods, and everyone pays attention as he leans over the table. Peter leaves
Lydia in Danny's care and returns to the table, where Isaac leans on him again.
“We know the alpha pack are living in the same building as the Argents,” Derek
says, and Allison nods tersely.
“The last thing we heard from Scott was this,” Stiles waves his cellphone in
the air before reading the message aloud. “'Doing what needs to be done. Don't
try to find me.'”
Peter scoffs at this, folding his arms across his chest as he puts more of his
weight against Isaac, so the pair are holding each other up.
“Seriously? Boring,” he complains, and ignores the look Lydia shoots him from
the couch. “We know he's morally bland and righteous enough to be an apostle.
That's the only way he could even be a True Alpha, which is obviously why the
alpha pack want him. Having someone so purely strong would add to their power
ten-fold.”
“So they're trying to build up power for something,” Danny chimes in from his
seat on the couch, still rubbing Lydia's back in small circles as she checks
her makeup in her compact.
“But what?” Allison adds, and nearly everyone shrugs. “It must be something
pretty big if they're trying to add that much power to their pack.”
“Revenge,” Boyd says after a beat, and Erica perks up beside him.
“Yeah, that's right, they were saying something about the hunters,” she gives
Allison a dirty look, but the darker-haired girl isn't paying attention, her
phone already out as she dials her dad's number.
“If it's something my family did, my dad could be in danger,” she reasons, and
moves into the kitchen as the phone begins to ring.
“What did the Argents do that they could want revenge for?” Isaac asks, and
receives a loud scoff of laughter from Peter, Derek, Erica, and Boyd
simultaneously. He rolls his eyes. “Never mind.”
“No, that's a good point, though,” Danny says, getting up from the couch and
moving toward the table, standing on the other side of Isaac. “There has to be
something specific they're after. If we can figure out what it is, we might be
able to find a way to stop them.”
“How are we going to figure that out?” Lydia argues from her new perch on the
arm of the couch. “It's not like we can just walk in and ask them why they want
to kill Allison's family.”
“No,” Danny agrees, folding his arms as he looks at the blueprints, maps, and
mess of notes spread across the table. “What do we know about them?”
“Next to nothing,” Erica grumbles unhappily. “The twins can morph together to
make one giant alpha.”
“Twins?” Lydia raises both eyebrows while at the same time Stiles says, “Ew.”
“There's Kali, and Ennis,” Boyd adds, grimacing at a memory of when they were
in the vault. “And Deucalion.”
Stiles' phone begins buzzing across the table at that moment, and he picks it
up quickly, the picture of Scott lighting up across the screen.
“Scott? Are you okay? Where are you?” Stiles fires off immediately, before the
phone has even touched his ear. There's silence on the other end before a voice
that is distinctly not Scott's filters through the speaker. Stiles has enough
sense to put the device on speaker before dropping it to the table.
“You must be Stiles,” the voice sounds purely amused, and Derek growls at the
phone in a fit of alpha rage; Isaac imagines that if he had hackles, they would
be raised.
“Deucalion,” the younger Hale says between clenched teeth, and the voice shifts
focus, owner obviously grinning.
“Hello Derek. Feeling better? It's a shame you weren't feeling your best the
last time we spoke,” Deucalion taunts, and Derek looks ready to smash the
phone. Isaac pulls it across the table, out of Derek's reach.
“Where's Scott?” he asks as soon as the phone is no longer in danger of being
pulverized. There's a quiet shuffling on the other line.
“So you've assembled the whole pack,” comes the reply, deliberately avoiding
the question. “I suppose you're attempting to plan some great, heroic rescue.
The simple truth is, Scott doesn't want to be found. He's with us now.”
“What do you want?” Stiles finds his voice again, leaning over the table at an
awkward angle to be closer to the phone. Derek grips his arm to keep him from
falling, but doesn't move otherwise.
“It's much more complicated than that, Stiles,” comes the reply, and no one
misses the taunting tone used when he says Stiles' name. “I'm putting a stop to
something that started a long time ago. And Scott is going to help me.”
The silence that settles over them is almost tangible, Peter being the first to
move as he grabs the phone from the table suddenly. “The Argent's,” he says,
and Deucalion's low chuckle drifts through the speaker.
“Peter, I didn't realize you were involved in this as well. So sorry about your
niece,” he croons, and Stiles snatches the phone back before Peter can crush
it. Isaac grabs Peter's hand as the older man's claws extend, face twisting
into a snarl.
“Just let us talk to Scott,” Stiles insists, and there's a quiet tinny shuffle
from the speaker that sounds like acquiescence. The phone has changed hands,
there's a soft clicking, then Scott.
“Stiles,” is all he manages to get out before Stiles interrupts him.
“Scott, dude, please come back. There's got to be another way we can stop them,
okay, you don't have to do this,” Stiles is almost pleading, looking slightly
frantic as he hovers over his phone.
“Stiles, you have to trust me on this,” Scott replies, sounding sure of
himself. “Just stay out of it, okay? I don't want any of you getting hurt.”
“Scott,” Derek this time, taking the phone gently from Stiles' hands. “How can
we help?”
There's silence, a sound like something has passed over the microphone on the
other end, then, “Stay out of the way.”
The phone beeps, signaling that the call has been ended, and everyone looks
around in defeat. They sit like that for a while, Stiles leaning against Derek
heavily, Lydia and Danny both purse-lipped by the couch, Erica and Boyd
standing a bit further away, holding hands, looking to each other for strength.
Isaac is still holding Peter's hand as well, even after the man's claws have
retracted back into normal nails, and the snarl has faded into a much more
neutral expression.
“So, what now?” Isaac breaks the silence after several minutes.
“My dad knows where they are,” Allison says from the kitchen doorway, holding
her phone triumphantly in one hand, her bow in the other. “Lets go get him.”
Chapter End Notes
     Hey guys! Thanks again for being so patient with me on these slower
     updates. I hope the length of this one made up for how long it took.
     If you don't follow me on Tumblr, or just missed it the first time, I
     made a Pisaac playlist on 8tracks and would really appreciate some
     feedback on it! You can listen to it here.
     I have a few other playlists up as well (one for Peter and one for
     Stiles), so take a look at those as well.
     As always, I am always taking suggestions for music on my blog,
     either in my ask_box, or in my submissions.
     Finally as a last announcement, I've got a few projects lined up that
     may set updates back again a bit. I'm going to try to finish Works In
     Progress before I start anything new, though. Included in those
     projects are some shorter Pisaac fics, a Sterek fic, and a possible
     sequel to Works.
     Thanks for reading! You guys are the best, truly, and I'm so lucky to
     have you. ♥
***** Loss *****
Chapter Notes
     Can you believe it's been over six months since I've updated this
     beast?? Holy shit. Sorry about that.
     The past seven months have been absolutely insane for me in some of
     the worst and best ways. A lot of crazy things have come out of this
     year that I never expected, BUT, let's get on to more important
     things.
     Some heavy shit happens in this chapter, so maybe have some tissues
     on hand or a cat to snuggle or something. Some people die, but it's
     not terribly graphic.
     Next, I'm considering making a compilation when this is over of all
     of the chapter playlist songs. I'd put it on 8tracks, probably, and
     it would be pretty hefty. Would anyone be interested in that?
     And last but not least, your playlist for this chapter:
     1. Lupine Howl - Vaporizer
     2. Alice In Chains - Rain When I Die
     3. Arctic Monkeys - Dance Little Liar
     4. Fields - Charming The Flames
     5. Glass Animals - Black Mambo
     6. Arcade Fire - Suburban War
     7. Broken Bells - The Angel And The Fool
The call to action is more rapid than Isaac initially expects. He gets caught
up in the whirlwind of orders that Derek gives, watching as people take
positions, ready weapons, ready minds. He has enough sense to feel Peter gently
leading him along toward the door as Lydia, Stiles, and Danny begin mapping
things out in full force. Allison has gone to meet with her dad, a forerunner
for the pack; Boyd goes with her, despite Erica's protests.
Isaac is left hovering between Peter and Erica as Derek leads them out of the
loft. In the parking lot, Isaac gravitates toward Peter's Lexus, but stumbles
when the man holds a hand up to stop him.
“Go with Derek,” Peter tells him, tone low, and Isaac watches over his shoulder
as Erica gets into the passenger seat of Peter's car. He feels something in his
chest twisting and tightening underneath Peter's hand and takes a deep breath
to steady himself.
“I want to go with you,” is the only protest he can manage, knows that Derek
can hear them from his position near the Toyota just five feet away. Peter
shakes his head once, definitively, and Isaac can't help the way his eyebrows
knit together, the way his gaze lowers.
“Go,” Peter tells him again, pushes gently on the teen's chest, and then he's
gone. Isaac watches him get into the car with Erica, listens as the engine
turns over, watches as the car leaves the lot. Derek's hand lands on his
shoulder a minute later, warm and heavy and wrong.
“Come on,” his alpha orders, and Isaac obeys, sliding into the car. Both wolves
are silent as Derek steers them out of the lot and toward their destination.
Isaac briefly remembers Allison saying something about an abandoned shopping
mall just a short distance out of town that the alphas are using as a
rendezvous point, but he's not paying attention to their location as Derek
drives the car in silence, alternating between staring out the window and
checking his phone. Isaac only has to suffer through a few more minutes of
silence before Derek speaks, startling him out of his thoughts.
“When were you going to tell me?” His tone is level and soft, but Isaac curls
into himself, looking out the window in weak defiance.
“Can we talk about this later?” Isaac grumbles, watching as a puff of his
breath fogs up the window briefly before fading away. He blows another breath
on the window and draws a design in the fog with his fingernail, ignoring how
he can almost feel Derek rolling his eyes from the driver's seat.
“I don't want to talk about it later, Isaac. I'm your alpha, I deserve to know
the truth,” Derek still doesn't sound particularly angry, and Isaac
is...surprised. He risks a peek over his shoulder at the man, but Derek's gaze
is still fixed on the road, expression the same scowl as usual. Isaac sits up a
little straighter and crosses his arms over his chest, reminding himself again
of the loose-fitting v-neck that's still clinging to his frame. He tucks his
hands under his elbows and sighs, staring at the floorboard between his feet.
“I was worried you would...react badly,” Isaac admitted, tapping one worn
sneaker against the car door gently and rhythmically. He doesn't risk a glance
at Derek this time, but the temptation is high, so he unfolds his arms to tug
at a lose string on the hem of his jeans pocket instead. He hears Derek scoff
and can picture another eye-roll, and Isaac almost smiles despite himself,
knowing now that he's probably not in very big trouble.
“React badly? You're only dating my uncle,” his alpha's voice is full of
sarcasm and a hint of bitterness, and Isaac suddenly feels guilty for keeping
it from him, from everyone. He opens his mouth to say something – to apologize?
He's not really sure – but pauses, feeling all-together wrong. He tries to
ignore the voice in the back of his head, the one telling him that it was never
any of Derek's business, and that it'll be even less when Isaac becomes Peter's
beta, but suddenly he's angry, clenching his fist against his knee. He doesn't
have time to dwell on the feeling as Derek slows to a stop and puts the car
into park, and Isaac looks up to see why they stopped.
The defunct shopping mall looks odd and out of place, like a faded grey version
of a building that's been transplanted from a drearier universe parallel to
their own. The parking lot is empty, save for the familiar – yet empty – silver
Lexus that's tucked neatly into a space near one of the mall entrances. Derek
parks further away, putting a hand out to stop Isaac as the teen moves to get
out of the car. He shoots his alpha a questioning look, but Derek is focused on
the building, eyes narrowed.
“Derek?” Isaac reaches for the door handle again, a rush of anxiety welling
within him. Peter's car is empty, meaning he and Erica must have already gone
into the mall, but Derek wraps a hand around Isaac's arm, keeping him in the
car.
“Wait,” the older wolf commands, and Isaac sinks back into the seat, stomach
twisting. He clenches his hand into a fist, then lets it relax and repeats the
process as Derek gets out of the car, phone to his ear. Isaac can hear bits and
pieces of the conversation – Derek is discussing tactics with Stiles and Danny
over the phone – but he doesn't care enough to listen, mind too preoccupied.
He's replaying the morning's events in his head when Derek opens the door and
leans into the car, phone tucked back into his pocket. Isaac looks at him
expectantly, awaiting orders, but Derek's mouth is set into a hard line.
“Stay here,” he says, and Isaac is protesting before he's even considered his
argument.
“I'm not staying here,” he counters, throwing the passenger door open and
exiting the car, glaring at Derek from across the roof. “I came to help,
Derek.”
“You want to help? Stay here,” his alpha repeats, and Isaac growls this time, a
feral sound from deep in his throat. Derek looks about as surprised at the
sound as Isaac feels, but he holds his ground.
“I'm not going to stay here while you go in there and get yourself killed.
We're stronger as a pack, right? And Erica's already in there without us. What
if she gets hurt?” he's about to tack something on about Peter, but he bites
his tongue at the last second, realizing with another twist in his stomach that
Peter's safety is the least of Derek's concerns right now. Derek surveys him
for a long moment before finally nodding. Isaac shuts his car door harder than
necessary in his smugness, following as Derek begins moving wordlessly toward
the mall entrance.
“Stiles said they heard back from the Argents and Boyd,” Derek tells him when
they stop at the door, the lock having already been broken. Isaac looks at it,
then at his alpha, waiting. “The twins caught up with them.”
Isaac considers this, gaze drifting out to the two cars in the lot, then back
to the door, and then to Derek. He nods, biting his cheek.
“So it's just us?” is what he says, but Derek understands what he actually
means. The alpha nods, putting a hand on Isaac's shoulder.
“They'll be fine,” he says, and Isaac actually believes him, if only because he
knows the Argents and Boyd can hold their own. “Let's get Scott.”
The door opens with a squeal, the old hinges having gone a while without being
oiled. The sound doesn't seem to attract any attention, much to Isaac's
suspicion, and he tells Derek as much in a hushed whisper. Derek agrees with a
grunt and a nod, but otherwise says nothing, and Isaac follows him through the
dark, dusty hall, listening for signs of life. It's impossible, he realizes
after a minute, with the sounds of their own footsteps echoing off the walls
and empty sales kiosks filling the large floor. He stops in his frustration,
closing his eyes and trying to focus his hearing – first on his breathing, then
on Derek's – but it isn't helping the sounds are all blending together so
perfectly that nothing is distinct enough to pick up on. Isaac is startled into
opening his eyes when Derek puts a hand on his shoulder, look of concern
sitting perfectly on his alpha's face.
“You don't have to do this,” Derek reminds him, and Isaac shakes his head
fiercely, adamant about helping.
“It's not that, I just--” he stops, listening to the pause in the conversation,
finally picking up sounds that aren't coming from him or Derek. He looks at the
older wolf, suddenly perked up, “Do you hear that?”
Derek narrows his eyes and listens, but it doesn't take more than a moment
before he's shaking Isaac gently, already moving ahead. “Come on, I can hear
them.”
Isaac's stomach flips as he follows after Derek quickly, moving swiftly but not
quite silently through the mall. The sounds grow louder the further they get,
and Isaac is rounding a corner after Derek when the alpha stops short. Isaac
jolts to avoid bumping into Derek, but the alpha doesn't seem to notice,
fixated instead on the open space ahead of him; Isaac peeks over the older
man's shoulder, dread and confusion spreading through him at the the sight.
Peter and Erica are pitted against Ennis and Kali while Deucalion and Scott
watch grimly from the sidelines. Isaac senses Derek tense in front of him,
claws unsheathing before he howls and runs into the fray, announcing his
arrival. The younger wolf watches as Derek put himself between his uncle and
Ennis, parrying the other alpha's attacks between landing a few of his own,
adrenalin and anger carrying him through the fight. Isaac moves toward Scott,
claws extending when Deucalion notices his approach and turns toward him. Scott
leaves the alpha's side, putting his hands out to grip Isaac's shoulders as
they meet, face twisted with concern.
“I told you guys not to come! What are you doing here?” Scott is frantic, more
so than Isaac can ever recall seeing him, and it sends a chill down Isaac's
spine. The shorter wolf is glancing back at the fight, and Isaac looks up in
time to see Peter bringing his claws down on Kali, who twists around and hooks
him in the chin with her foot, sending him stumbling back. Isaac's stomach
drops and he turns back to Scott, swallowing hard.
“We couldn't just leave you, Scott. After we found out that the alphas had
taken you--”
“They didn't take me! I went with them!” Scott shakes Isaac a bit as he speaks,
the muscle in his jaw tightening. Isaac feels hollow suddenly, and the world
tilts as he tries to gather his wits.
He's still reeling when he realizes he hasn't said anything, and manages to
choke out a strangled, “What?”
“Deucalion came to me for help,” Scott explained, wincing a glance at the fight
when Ennis lets out a roar as Kali's foot connects with Erica's ribs, sending
her tumbling out of reach of the fight. Scott sets his jaw and gives Isaac a
small shake, looking at him solemnly. “Look, I'll explain later, but right now
we need to help.”
Isaac barely manages a nod, immediately rushing over to Erica as Scott jumps
into the fight behind them. She is laying on her side, a red spray cough
escaping her mouth when he reaches her. Bloodied claws press into the floor as
she shakily pushes herself upright, a weak smile crossing her face to hide the
snarl of pain. Isaac reaches out a hand to help her up, but she shakes her
head, settling on her knees as her arms wobble and threaten to fold under her
weight.
“Hey, Iz,” she greets through gritted teeth, and he frowns at her, lifting her
arm and leveling it around his shoulders to support her. She hisses loudly at
the pressure on her ribs, and Isaac gently lowers her arm again, scowling. She
attempts a sheepish grin, but it's more of a grimace. “Broken ribs,” she
croaks, and Isaac nods, settling her gently against a support column.
“Stay here, okay?” he tells her, taking her hand in his and squeezing gently.
He begins to stand, but she stops him with a shake of her head and squeezing
his fingers.
“Don't,” she whines, voice cracking, “Don't go.”
Her grip on his hand is surprisingly strong, but he carefully pries her fingers
off of his own, rubbing his cheek against her palm before dropping her hand.
“I'll be right back,” he tells her, feeling his heart flutter in his chest, and
he can feel her frown as he moves toward the fight.
Kali is bringing a clawed foot down on Derek, and Isaac jumps in to catch her
foot, attempting to upend her. She stumbles backwards, snarling, before
lurching forward and swiping Isaac across the chest. He grimaces at the sting
of the alpha's claws, but jumps forward again, teeth gnashing. His attack is
blocked by Ennis, who catches him around the throat and lifts. Isaac claws at
the hand around his throat, feet kicking wildly, trying but failing to land a
hit on the alpha that was slowly squeezing his throat shut.
He hears shouting but can't make out the words, as if his ears had been stuffed
with cotton, and Isaac squeezes his eyes shut, trying to gasp for air. In the
second his eyes are shut, something collides with Ennis so hard that Isaac can
feel the force of it before Ennis releases him suddenly and he's on the ground,
swallowing large gulps of air and coughing.
Scott had tackled Ennis while Derek was busy with Kali, and Peter was standing
at the ready when the large alpha fell, fangs bared as he buries his claws in
Ennis' gut and throat. His eyes flash, bright glowing blue giving way to human
grey-blue as Ennis drags his claws down Peter's face and neck, hands dropping
to his sides and laying motionless. Peter's body drops a second later, a beat
of silence falling over the room before Kali growls in anger, the sound
contorting to a strangled howl of pain as Deucalion swipes his claws across her
throat. Blood splatters over them both as she collapses to her knees, a clawed
hand wrapped around her bleeding neck in an attempt to keep herself alive.
She falls with a soft gurgle, the red fading out of her eyes as her body hits
the floor and the room falls silent again.
Isaac looks between Scott and Derek before scrambling across the floor to where
Peter fell, hands finding the open wounds that extended from the older man's
cheek down to the middle of his chest. Blood has slicked the skin around the
gashes, but when Isaac puts his hand over them, it's sticky and cold. He
doesn't understand at first, his breath catching in his throat as he brings a
shaking hand to Peter's cheek, but then Derek has lifted him around the waist
and is dragging him away. He hears someone yelling, hoarse and desperate; he
catches Erica's gaze across the room as Derek carries him out, her face a mask
of pity, and Isaac realizes that he's the one screaming.
He stops wailing a few minutes later when his voice is cracking and fading,
sitting in the front seat of the Toyota where Derek brought him. Isaac can feel
how raw his throat is as it tries to heal itself, but all he can think about is
Peter, laying lifeless next to Ennis, chest and throat torn open by an alpha's
claws.
His voice is hoarse, his limbs heavy; he feels empty, but he can't seem to find
the words to say so. Derek's face is fixed in an expression of pain and
sympathy as he gets a blanket from the trunk and wraps it around Isaac's
shoulders. He leaves with a quiet, “Stay here.” Isaac stays.
Derek returns a while later with Scott and Erica - limping but upright - which
would have been seen as a vast improvement according to Isaac, if he were able
to focus on anything other than Peter. They huddle in front of the car for a
moment, and Isaac doesn't know if they realize he can hear them.
“Scott's going to drive you two back to the loft,” Derek is telling Erica, and
Scott nods, glancing over his shoulder at the Toyota, at Isaac sitting inside
it; Scott quickly turns his attention back to Derek instead of holding his
gaze. Isaac tunes back in to Derek continuing, “...I have to stay and take care
of...well...” He jerks his head toward the silver Lexus parked just a ways
away, and Isaac swallows sharply. Scott and Erica both nod as if they know
exactly what he means, and Isaac knows, too, he just wants it to not be true.
Scott gets in the car and starts it, and Erica gives Derek a shaky, one-armed
hug before climbing into the backseat. Derek doesn't stay to watch them leave,
he just turns and begins back toward the building, and Scott puts the car into
gear and begins to drive. Isaac watches the shopping mall in the mirror on his
side until Scott takes a turn and it disappears from sight. He can feel Scott
and Erica watching him, waiting for something, but nothing comes; he just sits
and stares quietly out the window, wrapped in a blanket that smells like motor
oil and car upholstery.
The drive back to the loft feels shorter than the drive to the mall, but Isaac
attributes this to the fact that he wasn't really paying attention to the
drive, staring out the window the whole way but never really seeing his
surroundings. When they get to the loft, Scott parks the car and gets out to
help Erica, but she waves him toward Isaac instead, heaving herself up out of
the car and moving inside. Isaac allows himself to be shepherded into the
building, onto the elevator, and into the loft where Stiles, Lydia, and Danny
are waiting anxiously.
In the bustle of everyone celebrating their safe arrival back, and the
questions about what happened, Isaac disappears up the stairs. He shucks the
blanket before shouldering his door open, leaving it in the hallway for someone
else to deal with. His room smells familiar and safe and like home, so he
throws himself down onto his bed and wraps himself around his pillow and cries.
He cries until he can't feel anything anymore, until the tears have stopped
rolling down his cheeks, until his hiccuped sobs have died down to ragged
breaths.
After what could be minutes or hours, Isaac closes his eyes. When he opens them
again, Erica is sitting on the edge of his bed, brushing his hair back from his
face. He feels his breath catch in his throat again, but doesn't cry, just
closes his eyes and goes back to sleep.
The next time he wakes, it's to a crack of thunder waking him from a nightmare.
Sleep drunk and scared, Isaac reaches out for Peter, but finds only empty
space.
He cries himself to sleep.
***** New Beginnings *****
Chapter Notes
     Here it is, the final chapter. After almost a full year in the
     making, I finally found the words I needed to bring this chapter, and
     this story, to a close.
     This fic has been a wild ride for me, and I hope you guys have
     enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. A lot of
     things happened in my life over this past year that made it difficult
     for me to write, but a lot of really great things also happened, and
     those things made this thing possible. Thank you so much to everyone
     for your overwhelming love and support of this endeavor. This is the
     longest thing I've ever written, so it's a great source of pride for
     me, and no matter how frustrated I got with it at times, it will
     always have a special place in my heart.
     I'd like to say a big thank you to everyone who helped with music
     ideas for previous chapters, everyone who commented and gave kudos,
     and to everyone who shared and liked and talked about this with their
     friends.
     Two more big thank yous:
     To Erica, the strongest, fiercest, most amazing woman I've ever met.
     And to Liam, my Isaac, my mate, and the best boyfriend I could have
     ever asked for. Without the endless love, support, and encouragement
     that you two gave me, this last chapter never would have happened.
     Thank you for believing in me.
     Here's the link for the full playlist for this fic: http://
     8tracks.com/kairros/works-in-progress
     That's it, folks! Enjoy!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
“It's been three weeks,” Lydia announces as she approaches the table with her
lunch tray. Scott slides to the end of the bench to make room when Allison
gives his shoulder a nudge, and Lydia takes the empty seat between them,
flipping her hair over her shoulder. “The talk in the office right now seems to
be academic probation, but if he doesn't come back soon, they might just expel
him.”
A wounded silence falls over the table as Lydia picks up the apple on her tray
and examines it before taking a delicate bite. Allison gives her lunch a
contemplative look before pushing the tray down the line to Stiles, who
immediately makes a grab for the fries, shoving several into his mouth at once.
Scott's eyebrows knit together as he looks at the forsaken food on his tray.
“There's got to be something we can do,” he says, finally giving up the staring
match with his pizza. “I mean, there's got to be something.”
“Maybe we should try talking to him again,” Allison suggests, looking at Scott
with a light shrug.
“Don't bother,” Erica grumbles from across the table, cheek pressed against her
hand as she pushes the mushy vegetables - suspiciously labeled as simply
“greens” by the cafeteria staff – around her plate. “I finally got him to come
down from his room last night, but it was only for a few minutes.” Boyd breaks
a cookie in half and offers her a piece, which she takes and eats, expression
remaining sullen.
“That's a good thing, right?” Danny asks when he's finished taking a drink of
his water. He screws the cap back on the bottle, shrugging a little. When the
table remains silent, he asks again, “Right?”
“It was under duress,” Boyd elaborates, giving Erica the other half of his
cookie when she looks at him expectantly. “Erica carried him downstairs and
told him he couldn't go back to sulking until he ate something.”
“So he did eat something?” Scott asks, sitting forward, an expression of pained
concern crossing his face. Erica snorts, shaking her head, blonde curls
bouncing against her back and over her shoulders.
“Yeah, he ate half of a baby carrot, then threw the other half at me and locked
himself in his room,” she complains, drumming her nails on the tabletop. Boyd
drapes his hand over hers, fingers linking together, and her hand remains slack
for barely a moment before she squeezes his. Stiles snorts, washes down a
mouthful of food with a large gulp of milk and waves his hand in an
inarticulate gesture.
“So he's starving himself and about to get kicked out of school? Fantastic.
Sounds like he's made up his mind,” he bites, the sarcasm and disdain
practically dripping from every word. Lydia smacks him sharply across the back
of the head and he yelps as Danny's foot makes contact with his shin underneath
the table. “Ow! What the hell?”
“Stiles, he needs our help,” Scott urges, determined. Stiles scoffs and leans
back, starts to roll his eyes, but stops when Scott adds, “What if it had been
Derek?”
Stiles' face flushes a dark red instantaneously and he crosses his arms,
scowling.

“Okay, first of all, shut the hell up. Second, that's not helping your point,
Scott. Derek didn't try to kill innocent people, like, oh, I dunno – us, for
example?” He uncrosses his arms to stuff his hands into the pockets of his
hoodie, dipping his head down until his mouth disappears behind the collar of
his shirt.
“Besides,” he continues, slightly muffled, and Scott can tell he's chewing on
his lip. “There's no body. We don't even know if he's really dead, so isn't he
kind of overreacting?”
“Wait, what do you mean there's no body?” Danny looks intrigued now, pushing
his tray down the line to join the others, all wedged awkwardly into the space
in front of Stiles. The mole-speckled teen shoots the group a dirty look and
begins stacking the trays together, no longer accepting their bribes of food
and good will.
“Derek went back to, uh, clean up after--” Scott makes an awkward and
inarticulate hand gesture that doesn't actually make sense, but Danny nods him
along regardless. “Well, he says when he got back inside...”
“Peter's body was gone,” Erica finishes flatly, and one of Danny's eyebrows
quirks up, looking between her and Scott.
“But how is that possible?”
Scott shrugs in defeat and turns his attention downward, picking at a spot on
the table where the laminate had started to peel up. Stiles gets up, walking
the three feet to the trash can before dumping the contents of the trays and
adding the sheets of plastic to the stack on top. Allison leans forward,
looking across Lydia at Scott, a crease between her eyebrows that only appears
when she's starting to get an idea.
“The others were still there, weren't they?” She asks, and Scott nods his
affirmation. “And no one could have moved the body in the time between when you
left the mall and Derek went back in, right?”
“It was only a couple of minutes,” Scott shakes his head, sounding as defeated
as he looked. “Deucalion left when we did, plus he wouldn't have had any reason
to take Peter's body. It doesn't make sense.”
“Speaking of the big bad,” Lydia chimes in from between the two, closing her
compact mirror and dropping it into her purse before giving Scott a look.
“Don't you think you owe us an explanation? I mean, we never did get the full
story of why you ran off with the guys that were trying to kill us.” Scott has
the decency to look embarrassed, tugging the edge of his sleeve down over his
knuckles before releasing it and taking a breath to steel himself.
“Yeah, by the way, can we all agree that that is never, ever happening again?
I'm serious, Scott, never,” Stiles' attempt at scolding sounds more like
someone trying to reason with a dog as to why it shouldn't chew on their
slippers, but Scott nods in agreement, smiling down the length of the table at
his friend.
“Agreed. I'm really sorry, you guys,” he apologizes, and everyone acknowledges
it in their own way. Erica kicks him from under the table and he gives her a
small smile, which she returns. “Deucalion came to me looking for my help...he
had heard rumors that I might be a true alpha, and it seems like they were
true.

“The alpha pack originally came here looking for the Argents, looking for
revenge – some old turf war, I guess – but the one they were looking for wasn't
here.”
“Gerard,” Allison cuts in, and Scott nods. Boyd snarls and Erica scoffs.
“Should have known,” Stiles mumbles.
“Wait, you mean your grandfather?” Danny interrupts, looking across the table
at Allison, who nods sheepishly. “The one who was the principal last year?”

“He made a lot of enemies,” is the only explanation Allison was willing to
offer, so Scott came to the rescue.
“Deucalion and the rest of the alpha pack were on that list. When they found
out that Gerard was unaccounted for, Deucalion wanted to leave, but the rest of
the alphas wanted to wipe out all of the Argents,” Allison reaches across to
Scott and takes his hand, squeezing it gently. Lydia looks at the arm stretched
across the space in front of her and leers at her best friend, but doesn't say
anything.
“So he came to you looking for help stopping them,” Danny looks thoughtful as
he considers this, before turning to Allison. “But two of them went after you
and your dad anyway. What ever happened with that?”
She smiles grimly, taking her hand back from Scott to pick at the lacquer on
her nails, looking unaffected.
“They didn't put up a very good fight,” she shrugs one shoulder, trying to
sound nonchalant about it and mostly succeeding. “They ran off after dad put a
couple of bullets into them, but we don't think their injuries were fatal.
There's a possibility that they could come back, but seeing as two of their
pack are dead and the third left without them, we probably won't be seeing them
around.”
“You mean you didn't shoot them full of arrows? Now I feel special,” Erica
sneers. Allison gives her a look but doesn't rise to the bait, instead standing
and picking her backpack up from the ground beside her.
“I've got to get to history. Keep me updated, okay?” The last part is directed
at Scott, who nods and smiles when she bends to give him a quick peck before
quietly excusing herself. There's a moment of quiet as Scott adoringly watches
her walk away, broken by shuffling as Stiles finishes stuffing his books into
his bag and begins rising from the table as well.
“Yeah, I've actually got a free period next and I told Derek I'd meet up with
him to go over some stuff,” the explanation is vague at best, which piques
Scott's interest, drawing his attention back to the conversation at hand.
“What kind of stuff?” Scott asks, and Stiles scowls, stuffing his hands into
his hoodie pockets.
“Derek's been going out at night, looking for Peter, y'know? Looking for any
kind of clue as to where he went, what he's up to...”
“What makes you think he's up to anything?” Erica's nose wrinkles as she gives
the human a look, startled and mildly offended, although she isn't sure why.
“Oh, uh, I dunno, only the fact that he's already tried to kill all of us
once,” Stiles bites back, sarcasm dripping from every word. He rolls his eyes
and presses onward before she can interrupt him with a catty remark. His
expression sours as he continues, “I'm just helping Derek. Even if the guy is a
psychopath, he's still Derek's uncle, and he could be pretty badly injured if
he's not totally dead yet.”
“Just keep us updated. And let us know if there's anything we can do to help,”
Scott tacks the last bit on, giving Stiles a warm smile of encouragement,
letting his friend know that despite his hang-ups, he's doing the right thing.
“If you're planning on rounding up a search party, count me out,” Lydia smiles
a sickly sweet smile that doesn't reach her eyes, head tilted slightly as she
lifts the strap of her purse to her shoulder. “I mean, I think I've already
done my share of helping the psychopathic zombie wolf, especially considering
he didn't really give me much of a choice.”
She stands, sweeping away before anyone can get a word in. Stiles watches her
leave with a world-weary expression that would be better suited to Derek before
waving his own goodbye to Scott, Erica, Boyd, and Danny.
“Right, well, I'm already late for band practice,” Danny excuses himself after
a beat of silence, waving over his shoulder as he leaves the table at a brisk
pace. Erica watches him leave disinterestedly before leaning heavily on Boyd
and giving Scott a bored look across the table.
“So, what's the plan, O' Mighty True Alpha?” She teases, twirling a piece of
hair around her index finger. Scott shrugs, looking almost lost.
“I...don't know. I guess all we can really do now is wait to see if Derek and
Stiles come up with something,” he sounds displeased with this answer, but it's
obvious that there really isn't much to be done. With a sigh, he slings his
backpack over one shoulder and stands, giving Boyd and Erica a more confident
smile now. “For right now, though, you guys should get back to class.”
Erica snorts, cocking an eyebrow and making no move to rise from the table,
despite the fact that most of the students from their lunch period had cleared
out and were already back in class, a few hanging around for their free hour.
“And where are you going?” Boyd asks, curious, but not suspicious.
“To check on Isaac,” Scott admits, sounding mildly guilty but still managing to
pull a small, tense smile. “I haven't really gotten to talk to him
since...well...”
He shifts his weight awkwardly, but Boyd nods his understanding, and Erica
waves a well-manicured hand in his direction.
“Off with you, then. Let us know if you get anything more out of him,” she
tries to sound indifferent, but Scott gives a small, telling smile before she
dismisses him with another wave of her hand.
 
===============================================================================
 
As soon as Derek leaves the loft for the day, Isaac crawls out of bed and into
the shower, barely getting through with washing his hair before the total
apathy starts to creep back over him. He manages to make it back to his room
and finish dressing himself before putting on a record and collapsing into bed.
It's an improvement - he supposes in some part of his logical-brain that isn't
completely swamped with depression - considering that yesterday he only got
halfway to the bathroom before giving up and turning back.
Face buried in his pillow, sprawled with no ceremony across the mess of
blankets and sheets, he lay there for hardly a minute before he realizes what
record he put on. The record Peter had been listening to the day they first
kissed – well, the day they first made out in the remainder of the Hale house,
desperate and warm and...
Isaac feels the shudder run through his body despite himself, the memory
clashing unpleasantly with the ache in his chest, but he can't bring himself to
change the record. It was one of Peter's favorites, he had told him once when
they were discussing music, something that Isaac wouldn't even care about now
if it hadn't been for Peter. Of all of the things the man had given him, Isaac
supposes that what is sure to become a life-long interest in music isn't the
worst parting gift.
The bitter reminder stings at him and he feels tears welling in the corners of
his eyes, but he holds them back with a sniffle.
Three weeks.
And it's only the start, because he's dead, isn't he? Except Derek can't find
the body, there's no body to find, which means...
Which means something, but what? He knows he's desperate at this point, he'll
take anything over not knowing, the uncertainty has been keeping him awake at
night, a constant nagging reminder that he might be out there, he might need
their help. But he can't will himself to join Derek on any of his midnight runs
through the woods, looking for some kind of clue as to whether Peter is still
out there, somewhere. He can't face the possibility that the man – his lover –
might be alive, or worse, that he might not be.
A gentle knocking on his open door startles him out of his thoughts and back to
reality, and Isaac is mildly ashamed that he hadn't noticed someone come into
the loft, or get that close to him without realizing. He turns over quickly,
and seeing Scott, settles down onto his back, draping his arm over his eyes
with a sigh.
“What do you want?” Isaac tries to sound bothered, but his voice is hoarse now
from a combination of stress and disuse, and instead he just sounds tired. He
hears the shuffle of feet and now that he's paying attention, he can feel Scott
making his way cautiously into his room.
“I was hoping to see how you were doing,” Scott says, and it sounds like an
admission of guilt, which makes Isaac bark a short, humorless laugh. “I heard
you haven't really been eating, so I thought...we could order pizza, watch a
movie, maybe play some Xbox if you're really feeling brave--”
“Stop,” Isaac cuts him off, holding up the hand that isn't attached to the arm
draped over his eyes, and Scott obediently stutters to a halt. “Go back to
school, Scott.”
“What about you, Isaac? When are you going to go back to school?” Scott asks,
tone quiet, trying to avoid a confrontation but knowing that he's probably
going to get one. Isaac feels the words forming in his throat but bites his
tongue, literally, to stop them. He takes a deep breath, feeling his entire
body shake with fatigue and depression and the effort it's taking to not punch
McCall in the fucking mouth right now goddamn it.
“I don't know,” he says after several deep breaths and several minutes of
stretched silence. Scott stands still through all of it, patient, living up to
the title of true alpha with every passing minute. Isaac feels his chest
tighten and his throat constrict and he chokes out a sob, the first one of the
day and surely not the last. He takes a shaky breath, tries to compose himself.
Trembling, in a near-whisper, “I miss him.”
Isaac is suddenly very glad that he chose to cover half of his face with his
arm as he feels the wetness begin to pool, dampening his eyes, his arm, and
streaking down his cheeks. He hears Scott shift awkwardly, but he stays, still
desperate to help. He takes a breath to tell Scott that it's okay, that he'll
be fine eventually, that everyone is worrying too much, but all that comes out
is another sob, this one wracking his whole body. He curls onto his side and
pulls his knees up to his chest, pillowing one arm under his head and curling
the other around it, burying his face in the crook of his elbow and heaving
another hard sob.
He doesn't really register the weight of Scott sitting on the bed, but the warm
weight of the alpha's hand on his shoulder is heavier than he thinks it has any
right to be, and Isaac chokes on another sob, trying to get his emotions under
control.
“I'm sorry,” he sounds pitiful, and deep lines crease Scott's forehead as he
frowns down at his friend.
“Don't apologize, Isaac. You haven't done anything wrong,” Scott assures him,
but Isaac shakes his head, face still buried in his arms. Scott sighs and leans
his back against Isaac's, keeping his hand on the beta's shoulder.
They sit in silence aside from Isaac's occasional snuffle or hiccup of a sob
until the wave has passed, and Isaac sits up slowly on the opposite side of the
bed and leans back against Scott, rubbing one hand over his face to scrub away
some of the dampness. When he finishes, he drops his hand to his side and
sighs, the kind of sigh Scott knows none of them should be familiar with, but
the kind that had become normal as of late.
“I love him,” Isaac admits, finally allowing himself to say it, to feel it, and
it nearly pulls another sob from him because he never thought he'd get to say
it aloud; now that he had, he wanted to tell Peter, the one person it seemed he
couldn't tell.
It's Scott's turn to sigh, and he does – a small, almost resigned puff of air –
before nodding once.
“I know,” Scott says gently, unsure of what he's really supposed to say. He has
known, he supposes, for a while longer than he or anyone else is really willing
to admit. The way Isaac had looked at Peter...Scott knows that look, knows it's
the same way he looks at Allison.
“I'm not sorry,” Isaac retorts after a beat, defensiveness creeping into his
tone, suspicious of his friend's easy acceptance.
“You don't have to be,” Scott sounds surprised, which shakes Isaac's swiftly
rising defenses. After a moment of silence he adds, “You can't help who you
fall in love with. I know that; you didn't choose to fall in love with him, it
just...sort of happened.”
He pauses, but Isaac stays silent, listening, so he continues on, “I also know
that...because you fell in love with him, there must have been something still
good about him. I'm sorry that none of us got to see that part of him the way
you did, I know you wanted us to.”
Isaac nods this time, jerky as he stutters on an intake of breath, tears
clouding his vision again. He can't bring himself to say anything, couldn't
think of anything if his life depended on it, just continues sucking in gulps
of air and tries not to drown. Scott waits patiently for Isaac's breathing to
slow, and it does eventually.
“Derek thinks there's a good chance he's...” Isaac can't bring himself to say
'alive' because in his mind, Peter isn't – can't be – dead.
“Exactly,” Scott catches the thread of conversation and tries to steer it in a
strongly hopeful direction. “You know how resilient Peter is, so until we know
more...please, Isaac. Let us help you.”
Isaac stares across the room for a long moment, considering Scott's offer of
help, although he's not sure what anyone could do to help him now; the only
thing he wants is Peter.
The silence settles between them for several minutes, Isaac tugging at a lose
string on the cuff of his shirtsleeve, Scott staring at the floor between his
feet, mind wandering.
“What movie?” Isaac asks begrudgingly, having lost his motivation to chase
Scott away. The alpha immediately perks up, and Isaac thinks with mild
amusement that Scott really is just a big, sweet puppy.
“I grabbed a couple that always cheer me up when I'm sick or whatever,” Isaac
can hear the sheepish grin and feels a smile tugging at the corners of his
mouth despite himself. “They're in my backpack downstairs, wanna come look?”
Isaac half-turns and uses one hand to shove gently at Scott's back until the
other teen quickly gets the idea and stands, giving Isaac room to crawl across
the bed and get back on his feet. Scott is obviously trying to contain his joy
at getting his friend out of bed, even as Isaac rolls his eyes and herds Scott
toward the door with a sigh, pausing to stop the record that was playing
following Scott out.
 
===============================================================================
 
 
Stiles pulls up to the clinic where Derek had asked to meet him, noticing the
complete lack of cars in the lot – even Deaton's – but shifting the Jeep into
park nonetheless. He sends Derek a quick “I'm here” text before pocketing his
phone and hopping out of the vehicle, approaching the door in the back of the
building with key in hand. Okay, so yeah he maybe had gotten a copy made of the
veterinary clinic's key, but they were there often enough that he felt it was
justified, and he was pretty sure Deaton knew about it anyway.
He tries the door before inserting the key and finds it unlocked, so he swings
it open enough to stick his head through. The lights are on in the examination
room and Derek is leaning against the operating table with both hands, looking
at several loose pieces of paper that were scattered across it. He glances up
when Stiles enters, mumbling a soft, “Hey,” in greeting.
“Hey yourself,” the freckled teen shuts the door behind himself, stepping
forward to stand across from Derek on the other side of the table. “Find
anything?”
“Nothing useful,” Derek shakes his head, releasing his grip on the sides of the
table and stretching his arms over his head. Stiles pretends not to notice the
way his shirt lifts slightly above the top hem of his jeans and instead grabs
several of the papers, turning them so he can read them. Derek drops his arms
and walks a few feet, turns, and begins pacing back and forth. “I checked the
house again, but there was no sign of him. I did pick up a strong trace of
Lydia's scent in the woods and near the house, though.”
Stiles looks up at him, eyebrow raised. “Lydia? She does live right behind the
property.”
“I know, but this was different,” Derek looks frustrated, like he's having a
hard time puzzling it out. Stiles can't blame him, the whole situation was
confusing, but he was fairly certain Lydia didn't have anything to do with it.
“Maybe she's been sleep walking again. I'll ask her next time I see her,”
Stiles waves it off, and Derek seems contented with this answer for some
reason. He chooses not to question it, but instead pushes onward, “Anything
else?”
“Nothing. No signs of him at his apartment, and the preserve is too large for
me to search by myself. He's always been good at covering his scent, so he
could be anywhere and I wouldn't know it,” Derek shoves his hands into his
pockets and watches Stiles study the map of the preserve, all of the small red
X's he's made in red pen indicating all of the places that the wolf's search
has come up empty-handed. The teen's gaze shifts to another piece of paper,
slightly worn around the edges, short lists of herbs and various other things
that Stiles has never heard of stacked one atop another.
“What's all this?” he asks, shuffling through several sheets of strange words
and sloped, elegant handwriting.
“Spells that Deaton says we could use to track him,” Derek explains briefly,
looking unaccustomed to the idea. “But we'd have to have an emissary, or
someone with latent magical talent to perform them.”
“'Latent magical talent' meaning, like, what? A witch?” Stiles asks, skeptical,
but Derek nods. The teen holds a hand up in a 'stop' motion, shaking his head.
“Witches? Really? You're telling me there's witches, too? Like werewolves and
weird lizard creatures weren't enough?”
Derek shrugs. Stiles throws his hands up.
“Okay, all discussion of witches is being tabled for another day,” he shoves
the papers aside with finality, and the corner of Derek's mouth twitches into a
smile, but it's a tired one. Suddenly Stiles can see all of the exhaustion in
his face, his posture, the sag of his body as he leans his hip into the counter
across the room. Stiles rests his hands on the table, looking at the man across
from him, expression pinched. “You need to get more sleep, Derek.”
“I'm fine,” the wolf argues, shaking his head, but the lighting of the
examination room emphasizes the dark circles under his eyes, the week-old
scruff on his jaw, the sallow pallor of his face. “I need to find my uncle, or
at least figure out what happened to him.”
“I know that,” Stiles sighs, tucking his hands into the pockets of his hoodie,
fingers finding a loose thread and tugging at it. He looks at the scattered
pages on the table and chews his lip, thinking. “Look, I'm just...worried about
you, okay? And you're not going to do anyone any good if you're not taking care
of yourself. Take the night off, go home and get some rest.”
Derek looks guilty, turns his gaze away from the teen and looks at the various
jars of herbs sitting on the counter instead. “I can't go home, not with
Isaac...I just can't.”
Stiles nods, understanding in some way, and shrugs. As casually as possible, he
suggests, “You could come to my house.”
Derek gives him a wide-eyed, startled look, and Stiles back-peddles, waving a
hand dismissively.
“My dad's on the night shift tonight, we can get take-out and watch a movie,
you can crash on the couch,” he rambles, cheeks pink, but he hopes the
fluorescent lighting of the room will be enough to hide it. “It'll be fun,
c'mon. We can invite Scott, and--”
“No,” Derek shakes his head, then at the teen's hurt expression, continues,
“Don't invite Scott.”
Stiles' blush deepens and he has to swallow around the sudden lump in his
throat before he can speak again, “Yeah, okay. No Scott. Just us.”
Derek smiles, but quickly ducks his head and begins gathering his papers,
attempting to hide it. It doesn't work, and Stiles still feels butterflies in
his stomach as they walk out of the building together. He locks it up out of
courtesy to Deaton, and follows Derek to the Jeep.
 
===============================================================================
 
 
Lydia skips class and heads to the office after leaving the lunch table. Her
head is pounding, has been all day, and all she wants to do is go home, take a
hot bath and maybe have a nap. She had barely gotten any sleep the night
before, what little she had managed to get had been plagued with dreams – not
nightmares, but given the content they may as well have been – of Peter.
Logically, she knows that the nature of this paranormal stuff is volatile, and
they don't exactly have the best understanding of it.
She had figured that her mental connection to the undead wolf would probably
always remain at least slightly in-tact. What she hadn't expected was that he
would appear in her dreams every night for the last three weeks, asking for her
help in exchange for information. He would tell her everything he knew about
banshees, and in exchange she would gather things he needed – herbs, medical
supplies, clothing – and leave it at the old Hale house.
She knows the agreement is insane, that he's insane and she may as well be,
too, but for some reason, she does what he asks. She tries to reason with
herself that if she didn't really want to help him, she wouldn't, but a part of
her is afraid to test that theory. Maybe it was indicative of Peter's influence
on her mind, but she would rather believe she was doing this of her own
volition than know for certain that she had been brainwashed yet again. Telling
the others was the last thing on her mind; they had too much to worry about as
it was, what with Isaac, and...well, he had given her pretty clear
instructions: Don't tell anyone. Last night he hadn't asked her for anything,
had merely stated his healing progress and then proceeded to give her a lesson
on banshee powers and lore. It was useful, sure, but she felt nowhere near
rested when she woke up that morning. The migraine set in halfway through her
first class and refused to relent, so she decides that checking out of school
for the day is her best option.
The drive home is short and uneventful, which Lydia finds herself quietly
thankful for. Inside, she barely manages to kick off her heels before
collapsing onto her bed, not bothering to change out of her dress or even climb
under the covers. She wraps an arm around her pillow and pulls it under her
head, the cool surface of it against her face helping to ease the pounding in
her head, and she begins to doze almost immediately.
It's hard to say when the dream starts, but before long,she's standing in the
old Hale house, wearing what she fell asleep in. This is not the usual
dreamscape; typically she dreams that he is in her house, sitting at her desk
or leaning against the windowsill. Her dreams are warm, despite his presence in
them; it's cold here, and she knows instantly that this isn't her dream. She
wonders, as she wraps her sweater tighter around herself, if Peter's dreams
were always like this – barren, lifeless, dreary. She feels a pang of sadness
for the man, but pushes it away quickly as she takes a careful step around a
hole in the floor, minding her bare feet, and walks deeper into the house in
search of the wolf. She remembers Isaac saying that Derek had been attempting
to restore the house before he gave up and moved them into the loft, but in
Peter's dream the house is in it's familiar post-fire state.
He's in the den when she finds him, staring into the empty grating of what was
probably once a grand fireplace. Peter doesn't look up when she enters the
room, just continues staring at the ashes, the corners of his mouth turned
slightly down.
“What are you doing here?” his voice is soft when he finally speaks, and she
pulls her sweater tighter around her frame, finding herself wishing there was a
fire in the grate.
“I figured you could tell me that, since this is your dream,” she lifts one
perfect eyebrow, but it drops again when Peter finally raises his head to look
at her, and she sees the wounds from the alpha's claws have almost healed
completely, leaving fresh pink scars in their place. His eyes flash an angry
red, then return to normal, and her breath falters. “Oh.”
“They look healed on the outside, but underneath they're still raw,” he tells
her without prompting, and she shifts her weight slightly from foot to foot,
arms crossed in front of herself in an attempt to keep warm. She doesn't say
anything for a long time, considering everything she's just learned.
“How much longer will it take to heal?” she asks, not out of concern in the
slightest, and he seems to know this.
“Weeks, months, who knows,” he shrugs, “I almost died, again. It's surprisingly
difficult to recover from a second time, even as an alpha.”
Lydia resists the urge to roll her eyes, instead taking a step closer and
slowly lowering herself to sit on the floor, pulling her knees to her chest and
wrapping her arms around them. She takes another cursory glance of the room,
and she can feel Peter watching her as she does so.
“Isaac misses you,” her tone is nonchalant, but she still glances at him out of
the corner of her eye, looking for a reaction. His expression wavers, pulls
tight, then smooths out to indifference again. She drops her gaze from the
mantle of the fireplace to the fabric stretched over her knees. “I don't like
it. The two of you, I mean.”
“You've made that abundantly clear,” his tone is sharp, but she can hear a hint
of exhaustion in it.
“It's also not my business,” she presses on, carefully examining the pattern of
her dress. “I may not understand it, and maybe Stiles is right and you're just
using this as some sort of way to get in with all of us so you can kill us,
but...”
Lydia sighs, lifts her gaze to Peter's face, which he is keeping carefully
neutral. “Maybe we're all wrong, and maybe you're good for each other. Just
know that if you hurt him, half of this pack, or whatever we are, will tear you
apart.”
He looks mildly surprised at her threat for just a moment before he smirks,
although it doesn't last long. His hand covers the scars on his face and he
winces, and Lydia tries to remind herself that he deserves this and so much
more when she starts to feel sorry for him again. Before she can say anything
else, she hears her phone ringing, and she knows, somehow, that the noise means
she's waking up.
“Talk to Isaac,” she says, standing and brushing bits of ash and charred wood
from her dress. He doesn't reply, so she turns to walk away--
--and wakes up in her bed, arm curled around the pillow under her head,
headache having subsided and feeling at least a little more rested than before.
 
===============================================================================
 
Scott doesn't leave the loft until nearly midnight, well after Isaac has gone
to bed. They ordered pizza like he had promised, and watched the majority of
the first season of Battlestar Galactica, at Isaac's insistence. Scott had
never seen the show before, but he had found himself enjoying immensely,
despite his inexperience with the sci-fi genre. After a few slices of pizza and
some ice cream, Isaac began piping up with occasional trivia or information
about the show, helping to explain parts that Scott didn't understand.
When Isaac started to doze off, Scott gently woke him and sent him to bed, then
stayed behind to clean up the apartment a little. It was clear that Derek
hadn't been there much in the past three weeks, but he knew that the other
alpha was doing what he could to find Peter. Once the dishes were done, a load
of laundry washed and put in the dryer, and the living room picked up, he
figured he had done enough for the night.
In the elevator, he types out a note on his phone, reminding himself to go to
the store tomorrow and pick up some easy meals for Isaac. He feels guilty for
not being able to do more for his friend, especially when the beta is
suffering. He knows that he can't relate to what Isaac is feeling, but he still
wants to help, even if that means making sure his friend stays fed. When the
elevator lets him out on the garage level, he makes his way to his bike but
pauses before turning the key as he catches a scent. It's gone a moment later,
and isn't strong enough for him to identify, so he waves it off, starts his
bike, and heads home.
Isaac gets about an hour of restful sleep, half-aware of Scott cleaning
downstairs, but he's tired enough he can't bother to drag himself out of bed to
tell the alpha to go home. It's not that he doesn't appreciate it – he does,
really, more than he can say – but he knows the other wolf has more important
things to deal with. Still, he's fast asleep before Scott finally leaves, and
only wakes up when his phone begins to buzz in his jeans pocket, alerting him
of a text from the other wolf.
 
Left some clothes in the dryer for you, don't leave them there or they'll
wrinkle! See you at school.
 
He texts back a simple, Thanks, then silences his phone and lays it on the
floor next to his bed. He buries his face into his pillow and sighs heavily,
feeling slightly lighter after spending some time with his friend, but the
lightness sparks a pang of guilt in his belly, and he rolls over onto his back.
The ceiling is bare, and he wishes idly that he had put some glow-in-the-dark
stars or a poster or something up there, but he closes his eyes and tries to
force himself back to sleep. He fights to quiet his thoughts, mostly nagging
anxiety and guilt, and is finally starting to drift off, when he hears a
floorboard in the hallway creak.
Isaac's eyes fly open and he sits up quickly, staring at the open door to his
room. The hallway is dark, but even through the darkness he can't see anyone
out there. He sits forward slightly, bare feet touching the floor, and calls
softly into the hall, “Derek?”
There's no answer, although he can't say why he was expecting one. He knew the
alpha wouldn't be back tonight, but he could swear he heard someone in the
hallway. Frowning, eyebrows knitted together, he takes a breath and stands up,
taking a step toward the door. He hears the board creak again, can tell it's
the one at the top of the stairs, and cocks his head to listen. It's muted,
almost like it's being hidden, but he can hear a heartbeat, strong and slightly
elevated. The board creaks a third time, closer to his room, and he catches the
scent of burnt wood, coffee, and smoke just as Peter comes into view.
Isaac freezes in the center of his room, stomach and heart both clenching out
of anxiety and shock. He forgets to breathe for a long moment, simply staring
at his lover, observing the scars on his face and neck. Peter tilts his head
down slightly, glancing up at the teen and looking incredibly guilty.
“Hey, pup,” he greets quietly after a long moment in which they just stare at
one another. Isaac realizes he's crying and wipes at his face angrily,
attempting to dry the tears that have already managed to escape. He hiccups a
sob, and suddenly Peter is there, wrapping his arms around him as Isaac cries
into his shoulder.
Peter wraps a hand around the back of Isaac's neck, the other coming to rest in
the middle of the younger wolf's back, thumb rubbing smooth circles while the
other cradles his head to Peter's shoulder. Isaac's fingers grip at the front
of Peter's shirt tightly, refusing to let go, hoping through all of his sobs
that this isn't a dream, or some kind of joke.
They stand there for several long minutes, until Isaac's crying has died down
to small short intakes of breath, his shoulders shaking with each one, until
finally his grip begins to loosen. Peter feels the teen prying his fingers off
of his shirt and releases his hold on the younger man's neck, sliding his hand
to his shoulder instead. Isaac lifts his head from Peter's shoulder and takes a
small step back, fingers lingering on the other man's shirt for just another
moment before he balls them into a tight fist which connects with Peter's jaw.
The older wolf manages to keep from being thrown off balance by the strike,
hand coming to meet the reddened patch of skin where Isaac had hit him –
actually hit him – as he looks to the younger man, astonished. Isaac only looks
marginally guilty, but any trace of it and the previous despair he had shown
melts away to barely contained anger and hurt, fists still clenched at his
sides as he glowers at his lover.
“Sorry,” Isaac grumbles, although he doesn't really mean it, and the apology
shocks a laugh out of Peter.
“No, please, I'll be the first to argue that I deserved that,” he rubs his
cheek before dropping his hand to his side, the last of the redness and pain
fading. Isaac nods curtly, taking a shallow breath which he cuts short when he
feels another hiccup-sob rising in his chest. He holds the air in for a moment
before slowly releasing it. Peter had been missing and presumed dead for three
weeks, yet here he was, mostly whole and apparently alive, and suddenly Isaac
can't remember any of the things he had wanted to say. Peter seems to recognize
this, but doesn't push it and doesn't speak, he just waits patiently and
quietly for Isaac to collect his thoughts. They stare at each other for another
minute before Isaac feels words bubbling up in his throat and he has to let
them out.
“What happened? I, we saw you die,” his voice cracks on the last word but he
clears his throat, frustrated and embarrassed, and tries again, “Why didn't you
come back?”
Peter doesn't answer at first, but Isaac sees the guilt flash across his face
as he moves, aimlessly wandering in the small space, keeping some distance
between them as he does. The older wolf trails his fingers over the bit of
Isaac's desk that isn't covered with long-forgotten homework, textbooks, and
various other things. He picks up the book sitting at the top of the scattered
pile, a thick volume on Greek mythology, and begins to lazily leaf through it.
“I thought I had died, as well,” Peter finally says, voice soft, and Isaac
recognizes the honesty in his tone. His focus remains on the book, idly turning
pages as he continues speaking. “In reality, I had only blacked out for a few
minutes. When I woke, I was weak, but I realized what had happened. I was
barely able to drag myself from the building and into isolation so I could
heal.”
“What do you mean 'what had happened'? Why didn't you wait for us, let us help
you?” Isaac sits on the edge of his bed, eyes never leaving Peter, not trusting
that he would still be there if he looked away. “Derek went back in to get you,
we could have helped.”
“Derek went back into retrieve my body,” Peter snaps the book shut, tone
morphing into something bitter and spiteful. He drops the book back onto the
desk, turning to face Isaac, leaning against the surface and crossing his arms
over his chest. “If he had found me in that state, he likely would have killed
me to put me out of my misery. Even I didn't think I had a chance in hell of
recovering.”
Isaac frowns, not fully believing that Derek would have so readily killed his
uncle if he had found him so injured, barely hanging on to life, but he doesn't
argue it. He knows in some capacity how skewed Peter's vision of his familial
relations is, but he also knows that Peter truly believes what he's saying.
“You didn't answer my first question,” Isaac admonishes, then repeats, “What do
you mean 'what had happened'? And how did you recover?”
He struggles to make sense of the situation; everything feels like a dream to
him in this moment, but he's determined to understand why Peter had simply left
him – left the pack – without a word or even a clue. Derek and Peter had always
said that wolves were stronger in a pack, healed better in a pack, so why
leave? Isaac watches as Peter drops his hands his sides, resting them on the
edge of the desk as he stands up a little straighter.
“Coincidentally, those questions share the same answer,” the older wolf replies
after a stretch of silence, and Isaac would roll his eyes if he weren't so
invested. He waits for Peter continue, watches as the man lowers his head
slightly and closes his eyes, and Isaac wonders for a brief second if he's
about to pass out or something. The thought – all thought – leaves him when
Peter's chin tilts up and his eyes open, revealing deep red instead of steel
blue. The color elicits a small noise from Isaac, it tugs at something in him,
and he realizes his eyes flash warm gold in response as he automatically shifts
to stand.
Peter's eyes return to their familiar human grey-blue, and Isaac's follow his
alpha's lead. They stare at one another for a long moment, Peter looking mildly
smug, before Isaac finds words to accompany his astonishment.
“You're an alpha,” Isaac says dumbly, brain slowly catching up to the
situation. “You killed an alpha, and because you didn't die--”
“I became an alpha, again,” the older wolf sounds worryingly pleased with this
development, but Isaac can't bring himself to care about his motivation at the
moment. “If Derek had found me that weak and close to death, do you really
think he would have helped me? Helped me to heal and to cultivate my usurped
power?”
Doubt settles in Isaac's stomach, cold and heavy, but he tries to ignore it. He
tries to think over what he knows: Peter had killed Ennis and had taken the
alpha's power as his own, which was probably the only thing that had kept him
alive through that encounter. He had managed to stay in hiding for three weeks,
slowly recovering, rebuilding.
Now he was here, talking to Isaac.
“So you hid to heal,” Isaac redirects, trying to avoid the 'Derek' train of
thought in this moment. “And now you're here.”
Peter raises an eyebrow. “Yes, pup.”

“So, now what?” He doesn't know what else to say. Peter hasn't even told him
why he was there in the first place. The other wolf – the alpha – shrugs his
shoulders, rolling his head to one side as he takes in a deep breath,
straightening his head on the exhale.
“Well, I'm not fully healed. I have no pack, so my powers are underdeveloped,
and they'll remain that way for some time without one,” Peter's tone has
switched to business, and while Isaac doesn't miss the change, he doesn't say
anything about it. Instead, he shoves his hands into his jeans pockets and
waits to hear out what the alpha has to say. The man takes a pause to observe
Isaac before continuing carefully, “You said once that you wanted to be my
beta.”
Isaac feels his heart rate increase and silently curses himself for it.
“Yeah,” he agrees, clearing his throat when his voice cracks awkwardly in the
middle of the word. He shrugs with one shoulder, trying to look unaffected. “I
did say that.”
He waits for Isaac to say more, but he doesn't; the teen wants Peter to do the
talking here, wants to hear what he has to say, wants to avoid giving him
ammunition. The older man resists the urge to shift uncomfortably, but Isaac
can tell that he's unnerved, and he gains a sort of satisfaction from this.
When the alpha finally finds his voice again, his expression is guarded.
“Is that still what you want, Isaac?” Peter's voice is low, and Isaac isn't
sure if what he's hearing is hopefulness or vulnerability. He thinks about the
question, considering it carefully. Peter is older and more experienced than
Derek or Scott, although he also has more enemies, one of which might actually
be Derek. As Isaac looks over the man standing in front of him, realization
slowly begins to dawn that he's definitely in too deep, but he isn't sure he
wants to stop.
He takes a deep breath in, holds it for a count of five, then releases it
slowly. On the end of the breath, he says softly, “Yes.”
Peter tries not to grin, but the action somehow serves to make him look smug,
more than Isaac thought was actually possible. He extends a hand – palm up – to
the teen, who looks at it for a brief second, swallows the lump in his throat,
and places his hand in the alpha's. Isaac allows Peter to gently pull him
towards himself and the desk, lets the older wolf bury his face in the crook of
his neck as soon as the distance between them in closed. He curls himself
around Peter this time, arms draping over his shoulders, one hand reaching up
to comb through the shorter man's hair.
“I missed you, pup,” the man mumbles against his neck, and Isaac barely hears
it over the sound of his own heartbeat. He makes a quiet noise of surprise,
grip tightening on his lover's hair as Peter kisses the skin of his throat.
“I missed you, too,” Isaac says breathlessly, heartbeat picking up speed as his
alpha nuzzles up his throat, biting gently at the corner of his jaw. Isaac
turns his head and catches Peter's lips with his own, kissing him desperately,
but he quickly lets Peter take control of the kiss, the younger man willingly
submitting to him without hesitation. He grazes his teeth over Peter's bottom
lip, and the alpha growls softly, the rumble vibrating through Isaac's chest
where they're pressed together sends a shiver down his spine. The kiss doesn't
last long, although Isaac tries to seek out more heat from his lover's mouth
when the shorter man pulls away.
“We have to leave,” Peter tells him, pressing his forehead to the younger
man's, fingers idly stroking Isaac's side along his ribs. “I can't stay here,
and I want you to come with me.”
The teen pulls away and closes his eyes, takes an unsteady breath and reopens
them a moment later. He searches Peter's eyes for any indication of his
intention – what happens when they leave and the pack comes looking for them?
What happens if the pack doesn't come looking for them? He had never been out
of Beacon Hills in his life, and now Peter wants him to leave it all? Leave his
friends, his school, the meager life he had started to build for himself?
A life I started to build with Peter's help, he reminds himself.
“Where will we go?” Isaac hears himself ask, fingers curling and uncurling at
the nape of the older wolf's neck. “I haven't even finished school.”
“You decide. We'll go wherever you want,” his tone is earnest and genuine, or
at least what Isaac perceives as genuine coming from Peter. “I'll tutor you,
you can get your GED. We can have a fresh start, Isaac. A pack and a home of
our own.”
They stand in silence for a long time as Isaac considers this, weighing the
options and possibilities in his mind. He appreciates that Peter doesn't press
him, knows that the older wolf wants him to want this, not to feel obligated to
it. Leaving his friends, the pack, school, everything behind and starting
new...it's what he had wanted before Derek turned him, to leave everything
behind and never look back. The transformation brought him family, though,
something that he though he'd never have again thanks to his father, but Peter
had also given him something that he thought he'd never have.
“Okay,” he agrees after a long time, nodding once. He tries not to smile when
Peter's eyes light up. “How about Seattle?”
“Seattle it is,” Peter agrees, stretching to place a chaste kiss on the teen's
forehead before pulling out of his grip. The wolf moves across the room toward
the door, stopping with his hand on the frame to turn back, “Pack a bag, we'll
leave as soon as you're ready.”
Isaac watches him leave the room, listens to his footsteps as he makes his way
down the loft stairs. He looks around his room, surveying, wondering what he
should bring and what he should leave. With Peter's money, he knows they'll be
able to start over without much difficulty, so he decides to pack light,
bringing only the essentials and a few sentimental items. He grabs his backpack
from the floor by his desk and upends the contents onto the floor of his room,
replacing books and lose papers with clothes, a few of his comic books, the
watch his dad gave him when he was ten, Camden's military medals.
After a final scan around the room, he picks one record from the crate of
albums that Peter had bought him and places it carefully in the bag along with
his other belongings, zips it up, and pulls on his shoes. As a final thought,
he grabs an old homework assignment from his desk and flips it to the blank
side of the paper, then grabs a pen and begins to write.
 
Derek,
I'm sorry for leaving without saying goodbye. It's something I had to do, so
please try to understand. You've been so busy lately, and I've been such a
burden to you and the rest of the pack. I don't want any of you to worry about
me.
You were right about Peter, he's alive. I'm going with him, away from Beacon
Hills. Please don't try to find us. I promise I'll be safe. Maybe after a while
we can come back and see everyone again.
Tell Scott and everyone that I'm sorry.
- Isaac
 
He leaves the paper in the center of his bed and places his phone on top of it.
With one last deep breath, he slings the backpack over one shoulder and makes
his way out of his room and down the stairs. Peter is waiting by the door when
he reaches the bottom.
“Ready?” His alpha asks, and Isaac feels a thrum of excitement in his bones. He
takes one last look around the loft, at the couch where he sat with Derek,
Stiles, and Scott, at the kitchen where they ate together as a pack, and nods.
“Ready,” he answers. With a grin, Peter leads him out of the loft, to his car
in the lot downstairs. Isaac tosses his backpack into the back and settles into
the passenger seat as Peter starts the engine, and watches in the side mirror
with a sort of calm satisfaction as the loft - and eventually Beacon Hills -
gets smaller and smaller, until the reflection of the city is just a slowly
disappearing outline on the horizon.
Chapter End Notes
     I hope that this was satisfying to everyone, and if
     not...well...sorry! I had more plans for this, but ultimately had to
     scrap them due to time and health problems. If my situation changes
     in the next few months - and let's be honest, it probably will - then
     I may continue with some spin-offs later on, but for now I'm calling
     this thing done.
     Let me know what you thought of this last chapter, and what you'd be
     interested in seeing in any possible continuations or one-shots!
     Much love to you all, thanks for sticking with me through this! I
     couldn't have asked for better readers. ♥
***** Epilogue *****
The envelope was postmarked three days after Derek had found the note on
Isaac's bed. Erica's name was on the recipient line - although the address was
for Derek's loft - with no return address or any indication as to where it had
come from. Inside was a greeting card, a sad-looking golden retriever staring
out from the photo on the front where the words “Missing You...” were printed
across the bottom in a generic scroll print. It was the kind of card that was
left intentionally blank inside, so that the purchaser or giver of the card
could write their own message, and this one had been filled from the top left
corner to the bottom right.
 
Erica,
I know you must hate me for leaving without saying goodbye. I'm sorry, I guess
I'm still just too much of a coward to look you in the eye sometimes. You're my
best friend - hell, you're practically my sister – and I'm going to miss you so
much. I already do, honestly, but it's better this way.
Peter and I have gone somewhere safe, where we hopefully won't be bothered. I
know you're going to try to look for us, but please don't. I promise we'll be
okay. I promise I'll be okay. I don't know when, but I promise to come back and
visit everyone again, but not until things are different. Not until we're
settled.
I know you can take care of yourself, so I won't remind you. But please...try
to be careful. There are still a lot of threats out there, and being a teenaged
werewolf is hard enough as it is. Trust Scott and Derek; they're there to help.
I know, it's not the same without me. It hasn't been the same without you, and
it's only been a few days. I can't imagine how much different we'll both be by
the time we see each other again...I hope it's not far off.
Be safe. Be happy. We'll see each other again soon.
Isaac
 
The card has been sitting on Erica's dresser since the day Derek gave it to
her, serving as a constant reminder of the painfully empty seat beside her at
the lunch table, the hole where her best friend used to be.
Derek told her that Isaac had left his phone behind, so she sent him emails
instead. In the first few weeks, the emails ranged from single sentences (“I
hate you,” and “I miss you,” were the most repeated) to letters, most of them
asking why Isaac had left and demanding to know where he had gone, where Peter
had taken him. She was convinced, for the span of a week, that Peter had
actually abducted Isaac and that he hadn't gone willingly, but she knew that it
wasn't true and let the idea go when she realized that there really wasn't
anyone to blame.
After that, she sent emails every few months with updates of pack activity,
occasionally asking if he was going to come back soon. He never replied, but
she liked to imagine that he was reading them, thinking about her.
On her birthday, she got an email that contained no message, but had an
attached video. The video was of Isaac, hair shorter and cheekbones more
defined than when she had last seen him. The video captured him from the
shoulders up, sitting in front of a plain, off-white background with nothing
else in frame. He sang “You Are My Sunshine” with a smile, then ended the video
with a simple, “Happy birthday!”
She cried when she watched it. When it was over, she downloaded it to her
computer's desktop so she could watch it over and over again.
That was a year ago. Isaac hadn't sent anything since.
 
Erica finishes typing the email that she's been working on for the past twenty
minutes and hits send before closing her laptop and pushing away from her desk.
She does a quick mental checklist – makeup, hair, shoes, phone – before
slipping out the window of her bedroom and out into the night. Her parents
still don't know about the wolf stuff, but she had already told them that she'd
be going out with friends for her birthday, and despite their concern at their
daughter's apparently sudden popularity, supernaturally good looks, and lack of
medical problems, they were usually too busy to object when she told them she
had plans.
'Going out' is actually meeting up at Scott's for a pack meeting and, yes, her
birthday celebration. Everyone is already there waiting when she arrives, the
door swinging open to reveal Stiles wearing a red party hat and a stupid grin
on his face.
“Happy birthday! Finally decided to show up to your own party, huh?” She knows
he's teasing, so she tosses her hair and strides past him, elbowing him gently
in the side as she enters.
“Yeah, I figured it was time to grace you peasants with my beautiful face,” she
taunts back, smirking as Stiles rubs the tender spot in his ribs. He shuts the
door and loops his arm through hers when she holds it out expectantly, leading
her into the living room where Derek, Scott, Allison, Boyd, and Lydia are
already gathered. Her presence triggers a chorus of 'happy birthday's from her
gathered friends and she smiles, fitting herself into the empty spot on the
loveseat next to Boyd. He takes her hand and laces their fingers together, and
she gives his a small squeeze in return. Stiles flings himself into the spot
beside Derek on the couch, leaving an oddly exact amount of space between them
which everyone seems to notice but no one comments on. Lydia sits primly on the
other side of him, one knee crossed over the other. Allison is perched on the
armrest beside Lydia, her feet resting in Scott's lap in the armchair.
“Okay, presents!” Lydia announces, gesturing to the small pile of gifts stacked
on one end of Scott's coffee table. Erica's slightly startled, not really
having registered that they were there, or that they were for her.
“You guys got me presents?” She tries not to, but she definitely sounds touched
by the thought. “You didn't have to do that.”
“You're our friend,” Scott says, sounding almost offended that she would ever
not expect gifts from them.
“Danny wanted to be here, but he's still in London,” visiting Jackson, is the
unspoken end of that sentence, but if it bothers her, Lydia's smile doesn't
reflect it. She hands Erica a small square box, wrapped neatly in gold wrapping
paper with a small card on top. The message is hand-written in Danny's looping
print,
 
Happy birthday! Sorry I couldn't be there. I hope you like your gift (Lydia
helped pick it out).
Much love,
Danny
 
Erica slides one polished fingernail under the edge of the paper and gently
tears it open, peeling it off of the small black box. She lifts the lid and
lets out a startled laugh when she sees the small silver wolf earrings nestled
into the satin lining. The little wolf statues are seated and frozen in a howl,
but are finely detailed. A small tag hanging from one of them tells her that
they aren't silver, but are in fact white gold.
She's already taking her plain silver hoops out as she flashes Lydia a bright,
genuine smile. “These are great, Lydia. Thanks.”
As soon as the little wolves are dangling from her ears, another gift appears
within her line of vision, this one significantly larger and held by Stiles.
Stiles' gift turns out to be a pair of pumps dark red with gold chains draped
over the closed toes and spikes on the heels, also picked out by Lydia.
After all of her gifts have been unwrapped and re-piled on the table – several
gift cards, a CD she had been wanting for months, a new leather jacket, a
bottle of her favorite perfume, the red heels, and the earrings – they order
pizza, settle in, and put on a movie. Halfway through The Craft – Erica's
choice, since it's her birthday – Stiles produces a Cards Against Humanity box,
and they play through the rest of the movie.
When the festivities are starting to die down, Erica decides it's time to go
home and asks Boyd to walk her. Scott finds an empty shopping bag for her to
carry her gifts in and they say their goodbyes not long before Lydia announces
that she, too, must get home to get her beauty sleep. She offers Allison a ride
home and only rolls her eyes once when she and Scott take a little longer
saying goodnight than necessary.
Stiles and Derek are the last to leave, Stiles giving the excuse that he has
reading for school to get done. Scott doesn't protest, although he knows it's
not exactly the truth. It had become clear to everyone over the past year that
Stiles and Derek were, if not dating, at least dancing around the possibility
of it. He knew it wasn't his business, so he tried not to pry, trusting that
Stiles would tell him if anything actually developed.
 
They leave together, Stiles offering Derek a ride home which he seems grateful
for. Scott waves from the door, an action which Stiles repeats as he slides
into the driver's seat and kicks the engine to life. He and Derek sit in
amiable silence through most of the drive, although he finds himself wishing
some jackass hadn't stolen his radio last month.
When they pull up outside of the loft, Stiles parks and leans back, turning his
upper body to face Derek.
“So,” he starts, but realizes he doesn't really know what to say, so he half-
shrugs when Derek looks at him expectantly. The older man rolls his eyes, but
there's no real irritation behind the gesture, just mild exasperation.

“Have you talked to Deaton about the emissary training?” Derek asks out of
nowhere, and Stiles balks for a minute, not expecting the question.
“Uh, I mean, not since he told me about it,” he rubs the back of his neck and
glances away from Derek, who nods but keeps his face carefully neutral
otherwise.
“Have you thought about it, at least?” This time there's more gentleness to his
tone, but a seriousness under that which draws Stiles' gaze back to him. The
teen chews his lip as he considers Derek and the question both, then he nods.
“Yeah, I think I'm gonna take him up on it,” he says, tapping his foot against
the floorboard of his car, an outlet for his energy. Derek nods again, and the
gesture is less tense now.
“Good,” he says, which startles Stiles a little, he didn't think it was going
to be that easy.
“Yeah?” Stiles can't help but ask, a little confused. When Deaton had first
offered to train Stiles as an emissary to Scott's developing pack just a few
months ago, Derek hadn't seemed keen on the idea. Stiles had brought it up to
Derek simply because he had known the man longer than anyone else – longer than
Scott, even – and he thought Derek might be able to give him some insight.
Derek rolls his neck and looks out the window at his building, instead of
looking at Stiles when he speaks next.
“Yeah,” his tone is quiet, and Stiles reaches over on impulse and takes Derek's
hand in his, squeezing it. Derek smiles, a small thing, and gives Stiles' hand
a gentle squeeze in reply. “You'd be good at it.”
That's all he says for a long time, and they sit in comfortable silence,
Stiles' thumb brushing over the back of Derek's hand, fingers twined together.
“The alpha pack could have been a lot worse,” Derek sighs after a minute, and
Stiles snorts and rolls his eyes, knowing what's coming next. They'd had this
conversation a lot over the last year, so much so that he was starting to
wonder if they could ever talk about anything else. Every time Stiles even
tried to bring up their relationship, and how it had suddenly stopped
developing a few months ago, they ended up having this conversation instead.
“...And you want me to be able to protect myself if something happens to you, I
get it,” Stiles grumbles in response, attempting to draw his hand back. Derek
holds fast, however, and finally turns his gaze back on Stiles, mouth a hard
line.
“I'm serious, Stiles.”
“Yeah? Well, so am I, Derek. I'm seriously fed up with hearing about it.”

They glare at each other for a long minute before Derek finally releases his
hand, sighing. He throws his own in the air, letting them fall limply into his
lap as he glares out the window, not looking at Stiles anymore.
“Seriously, I want to talk about this. What are we doing? I know we decided not
to do anything until I turn eighteen, but we haven't talked about it all, and
I'm turning eighteen in a few months,” Stiles rushes the words out, needing
Derek to talk to him or to at least listen to him for once instead of
deflecting or running off into the night at every damn turn. “Will you just
talk to me? About something other than this supernatural bullshit, for once?”
“Fine,” Derek sighs, and that is not what Stiles expects. He does a double-
take.
“What?”
“I said, 'fine',” Derek grumbles, turning to look at him. It's clear from his
face that he's not happy about it, but Stiles is beaming on the inside, finally
getting the conversation he's been after for almost a year now. “You're right,
we need to talk about it. We're waiting until you turn eighteen.”
“And then?” Stiles prompts after a long pause in which Derek doesn't say
anything else. The wolf rolls his eyes, obviously ready to be done with the
conversation already.
“And then,” Derek purses his lips and looks at Stiles, who definitely does not
shiver. “Whatever you want.”
Stiles practically leaps across the space between them and presses a quick kiss
to Derek's mouth before the man can protest. His face is red when he pulls
away, but he's grinning, and Derek can't help but smile a little in response.
The teen sits back in his seat and bounces his leg, taps his fingers on the
steering wheel.
“Promise?” He asks, as Derek jiggles the door handle on the passenger side, the
only way to get it to open from the inside. It pops open gently after a moment
and he slides out, shuts the door, and leans on the frame of the open window.

“Talk to Deaton,” is what he says instead, and Stiles can live with this. He
can definitely live with this.
“I will,” he means it, and Derek knows it, because he smiles one more time
before turning and heading into the building. Stiles waits until he's inside
before he turns the key in the ignition, the Jeep's old engine rumbling to
life, and drives home with a smile on his face the whole time.
 
===============================================================================
 
 
At home, Erica checks her email one more time before bed. There's nothing
waiting for her, no birthday message from Isaac this year. She's disappointed,
but she can't say she was really expecting one. A lot can change in one year.
She still thinks about him every day, but her thoughts are a lot less bitter
now, more controlled, more understanding.
In a way, she's jealous that he got the chance to get out of Beacon Hills, the
one thing she always wanted to do.
She opens a new email and writes,
 
Isaac,
Missing you, as always. The pack threw me a great birthday party tonight. It
would have been better if you were there, though.
I hope you're not dead in ditch somewhere.
 
She doesn't sign it, simply hits send and goes to bed, feeling like maybe,
sometime soon, life might return to normal.
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