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Isaac awoke to the sounds of cooking. Metal touched glass, and butter sizzled in a heated pan. Everything around him smelled of rich salt, and toast, and egg. It felt like it took him a full year to even come around to where he was.
Since Derek had situated himself in his quaint, industrial loft, Isaac had been staying with him. The couch at Derek's had become his bed, and he hadn’t yet adjusted to the way the white light of morning filtered in through the full wall of window. He hadn't yet adjusted to the way every movement on the concrete floor echoed like the tunnel of a subway station, either. Sometimes he felt like he was waking up outside, and other times it reminded him of the times he’d spent the night at a friend’s house; it didn’t feel like home. However, it was what he had. He was thankful for it.
He never woke up to this, though.
Isaac forced himself up from the lazy squish of the couch cushions. He sat upright and let the blanket he didn’t remember falling asleep with collect at his waist. He searched for the source of the sounds, and the smells, in the direction of the open kitchen.
He found Derek poking at a pan with a wooden spatula.
“Good morning.” Isaac croaked. His voice left him much groggier than he expected- much deeper, much more cracked. He forced a cough and stretched his chest in the hopes of making the next statement he made leave him more clearly.
Derek looked up at him, and bowed his head in acknowledgement. His lips stayed pouted, as they did. He didn’t say anything. He turned back to his cooking.
Isaac mirrored the singular bow, and attempted to move his attention elsewhere.
Beside Derek was a glass bowl of whipped eggs, and a small stack of toast on a large plate. There was a contained scatter of egg shells, too, and an opened package of bacon waiting to be cooked. Isaac had observed Derek to be more of a grab-and-go type of eater thus far; he was always busy, and always on the move. This mess he was making- the time and effort he was making to actually create something of nutritional value- couldn’t possibly be for just him.
“Are you expecting company?” Isaac asked. He reached to nervously fix his hair with his fingers while waiting for a response. It was the weekend, so he knew he was going to need to figure out a place to be- to get out of Derek’s way. It was the least he could do, for all his hospitality. He didn’t want to wind up a burden.
Derek paused, blinking at his own hands before looking back up to where Isaac was situated. His eyes found him in a softer light, this time. His eyebrows were less crossed, and his jaw wasn’t clenched quite so tightly.
“Um.” Derek began. “You?”
Isaac felt his lips fall open in a soundless gasp. “You’re making me breakfast?” He asked, needing the confirmation in order to believe that was what Derek meant.
“Yeah.” Derek replied.
Isaac’s lips stayed parted, His eyebrows lifted with surprise.
Isaac enjoyed Derek. He was immeasurably thankful for the gift Derek had given him. However, he didn’t always get the feeling that Derek enjoyed him . They hadn’t known each other long- Isaac hadn’t given him much reason to enjoy him, he figured. He was only allowed to stay here because… Derek was his alpha. He was only offered this place to stay because Isaac had nowhere else to go, and Derek felt responsible for his care- as he should, as they were linked in that way.
Still, Isaac sometimes wished he had somewhere else to be. For Derek’s sake. When Derek crossed his arms at him, and grunted instead of speaking plain English words- when he glared, and sighed, and seemingly ignored him- it made Isaac feel like Derek didn’t want him around. Sometimes Isaac felt convinced that Derek had made a mistake, giving him the bite.
But, this action? This choice, to get up early and make him breakfast? It opened up another branch of thought for Isaac. Derek was just bad at this . Which, was fine; Isaac was bad at this sometimes too.
“If you want.” Derek added, when Isaac did nothing but stare back at him.
“Yeah.” Isaac stammered. “Thank you.”
Again, Derek nodded as a form of response. He turned back to his pan, and ignored the way he could feel Isaac smiling at him; he ignored the way it made him want to smile, too.