Actions

Work Header

it was just the start when it felt like the end

Summary:

Scott clears his throat. “Thank you,” he says as he pulls back but keeps his hands on Isaac’s shoulders, not ready to let go yet. It’s all he says, but he hopes Isaac knows it means thank you for believing in me, for letting me in, for being my friend. Thank you for letting me be your friend and trusting me. Thank you for choosing me as your Alpha.

(or: where Isaac leaves with Chris Argent for France and Scott becomes a mopey, angsty mess for a second)

Notes:

Basically, this is how I cope with 3B and other TW-related stuff that broke my heart. It was supposed to be pure angst but... it's Scott and Isaac, y'know?

Title comes from 'Younger' by French Wives because the kinda-fluffy ending took me by surprise and I couldn't come up with an original title oops.

I don't own TW or the characters. Just borrowing them to play around for a bit.

Work Text:

He understands, is the thing, and that’s probably the worst part. He understands perfectly why Isaac needs to do this and – he doesn’t blame Isaac, of course he doesn’t. He thinks he’d probably do the same if he could. Pack a few shirts and two pairs of jeans and get out of this town, try his hardest to forget that the last couple of months were not just a nightmare. That Allison is –

Well. It is what it is. He can’t run away, there are people here who still need him and he can’t let them down again, not after –

Just – no. Not again.

It feels like everything is falling apart. And he wishes Isaac could stay by his side and help him rebuild it – their world, their life, their pack, everything that’s broken and needs mending.

But Isaac won’t stay, and no, Scott won’t blame him. Because right now, staying in Beacon Hills feels like dying – slowly, continually, a little bit more every day, and Scott wonders for how long can this go on before they all follow Allison and Aiden – and if Isaac has to chance to get out of here and save himself –

Scott wants him to take it. Wants at least someone in his pack to actually live, not just survive.

*

Scott thinks Chris Argent is one of the strongest people he’s ever met. A man who knows who he is and what he believes in and – brave. Chris Argent is brave, just like his daughter was.

Scott wishes his father was brave too, but that’s irrelevant at the moment.

Chris lost his only child and Isaac hasn’t had a father in a really long time, so this – it might be a good thing, Scott tells himself. They both need to grieve and maybe they need to do it together. Maybe they need each other.

Scott ignores the voice in his head telling him that he needs Isaac too.

*

Not that long ago sharing a bed with Stiles meant pillow fights and tickle matches and laughing until Melissa would come to Scott’s room to remind them they had school in the morning and boys, what happened to the lamp, trying to sound stern but smiling with her eyes.

Sharing a bed with Stiles now means quiet conversations and trembling voices, unspoken confessions and superfluous apologies that weigh them both down. Scott’s lost count of all the times they’ve tried to reassure each other only to end up saying sorry for something that was never their fault.

“Except it sort of is my fault when you think about it,” Stiles argues, his eyes fixing the ceiling, but it’s not like Scott can’t see the tears anyway.

“What d’you mean?” he asks, and he really doesn’t want to hear Stiles blame himself once more, but he knows Stiles needs to say it, so.

It’s a conversation they’ve already had a million times before. A conversation that they will have again, because it’s going to take a while for things to go back to normal. For Stiles to stop feeling guilty.

“Allison and Aiden,” Stiles says, voice shaky, and Scott can hear him choke back tears. “Your mom getting hurt. My dad getting hurt. Shit, everyone getting hurt, really. And now, Isaac and Argent leaving, and – Scott, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I –”

Scott wraps his arms around Stiles and presses a kiss to his forehead. “I know,” he says, because it’s not your fault is something that Stiles isn’t yet able to believe. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

Not exactly, but they will be, Scott thinks. One day.

“I’m sorry you’re losing your pack because of me.”

Scott pulls back so can look Stiles in the eye and tell him that’s the most absurd thing he’s said so far but before he gets the chance to speak Stiles covers his mouth with his hand. Scott frowns for a second and then proceeds to lick Stiles’s palm because what else is he supposed to do

Stiles laughs softly, looking like Stiles for the first time in months and Scott doesn’t even try to hide his grin. They might not be okay yet, but – they’re getting there.

“For what it’s worth,” Stiles begins, a tentative smile on his lips, “you still got me.”

Scott wraps an arm around his waist again, buries his nose in the crook of Stiles’ neck. Everything, he doesn’t say. It’s worth everything.

He refuses to think about the fact that three nights from now there will be no one sleeping in the guest bedroom anymore.

*

Stiles is right about one thing though – Scott is losing his pack.

“But you’re building another,” Derek tells him the day before Isaac and Chris leave for France, and all Scott can do is nod because he needs to believe that Derek is right even if he doesn’t really understand how the hell that works.

Well, he does, theoretically. The technicalities make sense. But his pack has always been – atypical, so to speak.

(“Dude, it’s like the Glee club of the werewolf world!” Stiles had said once and Scott had laughed because laughing was easy back then.)

His pack was made of friends.

You can’t just replace friends.

*

Isaac says goodbye to Melissa first and everybody pretends not to notice how hard she’s trying not to cry.

Isaac does cry and Melissa wipes his tears, saying that she’s so, so proud of him. She tells him to come back whenever he’s ready. Promises that he’s always welcome here.

Scott suddenly realizes that this feels like losing Allison all over again. Losing a member of your pack feels like a part of you is dying along with them.

He needs Derek. God, he needs to find Derek. And Stiles and Lydia and –

“Scott?”

Isaac is standing in front of him, his blue eyes wide and young. They’re alone in the living room, but Scott can hear Melissa and Chris talking in the kitchen; she’s telling him to look after Isaac, and Scott can’t breathe because he hasn’t really thought about it before but it’s all he can think about now, he’s not going to be able to protect Isaac anymore and he won’t have Isaac by his side, fighting against whatever supernatural creature pops up in Beacon Hills next and what if one them gets hurt again, like seriously hurt, and they won’t be together, and the other won’t know and what if one of them –

“I’m gonna miss you,” he blurts out. He needs to stop thinking, his thoughts aren’t his friends right now. And if that means he’s going to become embarrassingly honest and emotional and him making an ass of himself will be the last memory Isaac has of him – then fine, so be it.

Isaac chuckles but his eyes fill with tears again. “Gonna miss you too,” he admits, biting his bottom lip while looking at the ground. “So much.”

Scott all but throws himself into Isaac’s arms.

There are things he and Stiles don’t talk about – can’t talk about, at least not yet. But they will someday, he knows that. It’s how his relationship with Stiles works.

But there are so many words left unspoken between him and Isaac and it’s already too late to think about what could have been.

Scott clears his throat. “Thank you,” he says as he pulls back but keeps his hands on Isaac’s shoulders, not ready to let go yet. It’s all he says, but he hopes Isaac knows it means thank you for believing in me, for letting me in, for being my friend. Thank you for letting me be your friend and trusting me. Thank you for choosing me as your Alpha.

Isaac nods. “Thank you, too. For everything.”

And that sounds like goodbye. It sounds like every word neither of them dares to say out loud, and Scott thought nothing could compare to what he felt when his first love died in his arms, but somehow this doesn’t feel all that different. Must be how losing someone you love always feels.

He thinks about stolen glances and shy smiles and fleeting touches that he pretended not to notice because it was never the right time and life was already complicated enough and because he was afraid of could happen if he were to give in.

He thinks about the first time Isaac told him that he’d wanted to kiss Allison on their date and he remembers the pang of jealousy and those two terrifying second in which he didn’t know who he was jealous of. He remembers biting his lip because he was feeling ridiculous, because he wanted to get a reaction out of Isaac and he couldn’t understand why he thought biting his lip would help until Isaac looked down at his mouth and Scott remembered why he did it in the first place.

He thinks about every little thing that he chose to ignore, feeling his heartbeat stutter as Isaac leans in.

The only thing that’s surprising about kissing Isaac is how it doesn’t feel like they’re betraying Allison when Scott was sure it would. He doesn’t know what to make of that.

Isaac’s lips are a bit chapped and salty from the tears, and that’s all Scott can register before Isaac pulls away. Right. They’re saying goodbye. Definitely not the right moment. So. Yeah.

“Take care, Scott,” Isaac says, looking painfully insecure for a second, but then he’s leaning down and giving Scott another peck on the lips.

The first thing that goes through Scott’s mind is so this is how it ends. The second, as he takes in Isaac’s shy smile and his bright eyes, is maybe, someday.

Chris hugs Scott when they’re about to leave, patting him on the back in a way that Scott only remembers the Sheriff doing before. He can feel his throat closing up but manages to keep it together until it’s just him and Melissa left.

And then, for the second time in a week, he’s in the kitchen sobbing in his mother’s arms.

*

Malia is like an overenthusiastic puppy – eager to learn, bouncing on her toes and clapping her hands and grinning happily when she manages to do what Scott is trying to teach her, and more often than not Scott has the urge to pat her head and give her a treat.

Stiles warns him not to.

("She’s a coyote, Scott!”

“Were-coyote.”)

Stiles also makes a point of reminding everyone that Scott is, in fact, the puppy in their pack.

Scott rolls his eyes but he can see Derek smiling from where he’s trying to dodge Kira’s katana which she has no problem handling even as she giggles.

It’s still an usual sight, Derek smiling while surrounded by a bunch of teenagers and teaching girls half his size to hold their own against him, but – Derek’s been smiling a lot more often lately and that can't be a bad thing, Scott reasons as he lets himself fall face-first onto the blanket where Lydia and Danny are sitting.

“Dude, this is so awesome,” Danny says appreciatively when Kira does a back flip.

Lydia nods her approval and adds with a wicked grin, “You should see what she can do when there’s electricity involved.”

When Danny’s eyes go wide Scott claps him on the shoulder and smiles reassuringly. He’s still adjusting, Danny is, even though Jackson had apparently told him everything before he left for London. But now he actually gets to see it – them, the whole supernatural madness of Beacon Hills, whatever, and he’s thoroughly fascinated with superhuman abilities and claws and glowing eyes.

Also, his hacking skills have come in handy on more than one occasion.

Suddenly there’s an arm around Scott’s shoulders and he looks up to see Stiles grinning down at him.

“Alright there, buddy?”

Scott nods and closes his eyes, allowing himself to feel safe and content and unburdened. To feel at home in the middle of the woods, surrounded by his friends.

By his pack.

It’s been four months since Isaac left.

*

Isaac calls him that night and that’s – unexpected, to say the least.

“Hey, man, what’s up?” he asks grinning, feeling giddy and ridiculously happy for a minute and then, “Oh my God, did something happen? Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

But Isaac laughs and Scott supposes it’s okay to start breathing again.

“I’m fine, Scott, don’t worry. We’re okay, nothing happened,” Isaac says and Scott presses the phone closer to his ear. He thinks he can hear Isaac smiling if he tries hard enough.

“But – why did you call then? I mean, not that I mind, because dude, I’m so happy you called, I’ve got so much to tell you, you won’t believe what the girls did to Derek today, it was hilarious, like –”

“Scott, breathe,” Isaac laughs again and it’s only then that Scott realizes he was rambling.

He just – misses it, he supposes. Talking to Isaac. Sharing everything with him. Ugh, no, he’s not getting emotional again.

“Right, sorry,” he says sheepishly, wishing was Isaac was next to him, not on a different continent and oh God, what did he just say about not getting emotional? “But seriously, why did you call, isn’t it, like, super late or super early over there?”

“Four a.m.,” Isaac confirms, which makes Scott frown because what is Isaac doing up at four in the morning, seriously. “I just,” Isaac continues and chuckles softly like he’s embarrassed. Scott is confused. “I – don’t laugh at me, okay? But I – I just wanted to hear your voice.”

And no, Scott doesn’t laugh. He ducks his head and smiles, feeling his cheeks getting warmer, but Isaac doesn’t need to know that. Instead, he tells Isaac he’s glad, that he wanted to hear his voice too. That he wants to hear Isaac’s voice all the time, like he used to. That he was this close to crying when he found one of Isaac’s shirts among his while doing the laundry, and seriously, fuck not getting sentimental, he knows he’s sappy and he couldn’t care less because Isaac giggles – he giggles – and tells Scott how much he misses him, and also Isaac’s French is really, truly terrible, and could Scott come over there to help him, pretty pretty please.

It’s Scott’s turn to laugh because he knows about seven French words that Allison taught him a lifetime ago, but – nice try.

He almost doesn’t say it. He doesn’t want to pressure Isaac and make him feel like he has to do something just because Scott wants him to. He doesn’t want to be selfish, but the words slip out of his mouth before he has the chance to swallow them back down: “You know you can come back if you want to, right?”

Isaac sighs. But it doesn’t – he doesn’t sound annoyed, which Scott is immensely grateful for because, well, he doesn’t want to pressure Isaac but there’s nothing wrong with reminding him that there will always be a place for him in Scott’s home, in Scott’s life, right? And maybe Scott has a tendency to remind him that whenever he calls.

“I know,” Isaac says and then, more confident, “I will. You know I will, Scott.”

It sounds like a promise. It sounds like maybe, someday. And that – that sounds pretty good, Scott decides, buoyed by the voice on the other end of the line and the familiar butterflies in his stomach.

It sounds like a beginning.