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He shouldn’t have been surprised when Scott finally began patching things back up with Allison, but then again, who was going to resist Scott’s stupid face anyway? Even when Stiles was mad at him he was never really mad at him, so he really couldn’t expect that Allison would stick it out for very long. Besides, he had seen them together so he knew that when Scott lamented on about the two of them being made for one another it was not just wishful thinking. However he also knew that it was going to cut into his lacrosse practice time with Scott, who had promised to work with him and get him to a better position on the team - now that Stiles was the biggest loser out of all of them thanks to his lacking in werewolf superior enhancements to aid him. Not that he thought Scott, Isaac, and Jackson always used those abilities, because he figured they would have been just as good without them, but he still didn’t want to be the only loser in his circle of friends who didn’t actually play on the team he was a member of.
Scott had had better things to do with his time lately, though; namely make out with Allison’s face. He apologized profusely and said that he’d make it up to Stiles, but really, when was that going to happen? That had left Stiles with Isaac most of the time and they had somehow formed a weird friendship that eventually turned into a weird “making out” thing that they didn’t really talk about to anyone, least of all Scott. When the three of them all hung out, it was immensely awkward and tense and of course Scott didn’t catch on to any of it because when was Scott the type to catch on to sexual tension between other people? Either way, Stiles was beginning to get entirely uncomfortable with it and he told Isaac on more than one occasion that they should just tell him because it wasn’t that big of a deal and Isaac had told him that if he did, that would be the end of it and Isaac would also kick his ass. So there was that.
Stiles still did not get Isaac’s relationship with Scott. At first he thought that Isaac liked Scott, but he finally worked up the nerve to just ask him and Isaac said it wasn’t like that, that Scott reminded him of Camden and that had pretty much shut Stiles up, because he hadn’t really meant to bring up the whole dead family members bit. It was also really hard to deal with Isaac sometimes because of that - he was the most tragic person Stiles knew besides maybe Derek, yet Stiles felt like Isaac was still salvageable in some way and he wanted to be the person who was there for him but he just didn’t know what the fuck to do for that. Sure, his mom had died from cancer and that was slightly relatable to an extent, but Isaac’s father was murdered and his brother had committed suicide and those just weren’t the same fucking things as losing your mother to cancer, even if Isaac’s mother had died to a similar disease. One out of three doesn’t really give Stiles the relatable person of the year award.
And Stiles wasn’t even certain why he wanted to be that person for Isaac, because they had never once said that this thing between them was anything more than making out and a few hand jobs here and there, but for some reason the more time they spent together, the more Stiles just wanted it. They seemed to get each other and they could talk and they could hang out and everything seemed to work and fit and Stiles wanted that. He fucking wanted it more than anything, especially after watching Lydia pour her heart out to Jackson in front of him and everyone else he called friend and foe alike. Jesus Christ he just wanted someone to look at him for once, but Isaac still didn’t look at Stiles, not like that, and he wasn’t sure that anyone ever would. Stiles was hoping for it a little bit though; he was hoping that maybe if they spent enough time together that Isaac might start to see him and then he remembered that this was exactly how things has started when he had fallen in love with Lydia and internally berated himself, because the last thing he needed was to fall in love with another person who wasn’t going to ever love him in return, even if it was for completely different reasons.
He didn’t really know when he’d dazed out, he just knew that when he came to there was Isaac, standing a few inches in front of his face, waving a hand and calling his name quizzically and possibly a little worried.
“Stiles?” Isaac asked and placed an ungloved hand on his shoulder.
Stiles shook his head, the noonday sun blazing down into his face as he blinked a few times, feeling disoriented. “Uhh,” he replied stupidly, shielding his eyes from the sun so he could see Isaac better.
The werewolf raised an eyebrow at him. “Your eyes looked kind of glazed over. Are you alright?” he asked, his hand still resting on Stiles’ shoulder. He squeezed it for emphasis.
“Yeah?” It wasn’t really an affirmative, because he still didn’t even know where he was. He glanced around and took in the bleachers, the goal post a few yards down the field, and the lacrosse stick in his hand. Oh. Apparently they had been practicing and he had somehow gone into a haze. Since Scott had been so busy with patching (making out) things up with Allison, he had forgone his practices with Stiles and Isaac had offered to step in and take over. That had been nice of him, if not a bit difficult what with the making out of their own they had been doing kind of getting in the way sometimes. At least he was willing to help though.
That curly blonde head didn’t look convinced. “Yeah?” he repeated.
Stiles shook his head again. “Yeah,” he said more definitively. “I guess I just need a drink. Think I got lost in my head or something. Sorry,” he said and moved toward the bleachers where the gatorade was waiting. Isaac didn’t follow him, which was probably for the best, because Stiles knew exactly what had distracted him. He didn’t know why he was thinking about all of that stuff, but it was probably best not to do so when balls were being thrown toward his face.
He took a few long drinks of gatorade and tried his best to collect himself. He really didn’t need to be letting himself daze out like that. Worst of it was that he had been making a habit of it lately and all that Isaac seemed to do was ride it out like he was worried Stiles might break if he pushed him too far. Isaac always acted like Stiles was so fucking fragile and that really pissed him off. Stiles was not made of glass and he could handle just as much as anyone else, even if he couldn’t heal magically afterward. Even werewolves couldn’t heal emotional injuries with their stupid wolfy powers, so they were on the same footing in that department anyhow. But it didn’t matter, because it wasn’t like Isaac was ever going to open up to him and it wasn’t like Isaac was ever going to treat him like he wasn’t a fucking five-year-old either. It was so damn unfair he couldn’t even believe he put up with it sometimes.
He felt the gatorade bottle crush under his fingertips and it took him a minute to realize his internal anger had been externalized and that Isaac was probably watching him from the middle of the field and would come over if he didn’t get moving soon. Stiles put his gloves back on and lowered his mask, a scowl on his face.
He made his way back to the middle of the field, facing off against Isaac. He was angry, he was really fucking pissed and he didn’t have the right to be directing it at Isaac just then without giving him some warning, but Isaac was a goddamned werewolf and he could defend himself against anything Stiles threw his way, so it wasn’t like it mattered. Stiles picked up the crosse that he’d abandoned on the ground and rolled the ball back into it, tossing it up into the air a few times as he stared Isaac down. Stiles knew that by the time the ball was anywhere near Isaac, he would be ready for it, but he also knew that Isaac refused to use any wolfy magical enhancements when they were practicing in case he hurt Stiles in the process, which was stupid. That thought alone only fueled his anger more, because how the hell was he going to hurt Stiles from halfway across the fucking field?
Stiles wound his arms back, shaft firmly held between his gloved hands as he glared angrily toward Isaac’s infinite blue eyes that were just visible through his mask. He knew that Isaac could hear the speed of his heart quicken and the other teen could tell that something was amiss, but he didn’t know exactly what and it was enough for Stiles to catch him off guard. He shot the lacrosse ball forward from the crosse with all the strength and frustration behind it that he could muster and it flew at a speed even he was surprised by, straight for Isaac’s shoulder.
The werewolf didn’t move and he didn’t make any sort of play for catching the ball with his own crosse, which meant he either had to catch it with his gloved hand or get hit in the shoulder - not the two best options Stiles would have gone with. But Isaac didn’t move at all and the ball made impact with his clavicle with a sickeningly uncomfortable sounding crunch. No, there was no way Stiles could have thrown it with enough force to break bone. He watched Isaac critically, face twisted in both anger and confusion as he tried to assess whether he could have thrown a shot that would cause damage like that. Isaac's face was too hard to read under his mask and finally Stiles gave up and started moving toward him.
"Don't," Isaac said lowly.
"Isaac," Stiles replied, his voice raising half an octave of its own accord. "Did it really-?"
"Stay there, Stiles," Isaac said through gritted teeth and his gloves fell to the ground and Stiles saw that his claws were extending.
"Jesus Christ, Isaac!" Stiles started jogging toward the other teen, ignoring his directive completely.
"Stiles, goddammit!" Isaac gritted, but it didn't matter, Stiles was already on him.
Stiles gingerly peeled back the tattering red practice jersey that Isaac wore from his shoulder, and cringed when he saw the angry red mark on Isaac's clavicle where the ball had made contact, deep red lining beneath the skin where blood vessels had popped from the contact. He could hear noises - bones were moving and aligning back where they were meant to be and Stiles clutched Isaac's arm tightly when he saw the movement underneath Isaac's skin.
"Holy fuck," he breathed, barely audible. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't seem to drag his eyes from the train wreck in front of him. It was like someone set up a high speed camera on a normal person's injury and he watched it go through all the normal processes: red, purple, blue, yellow, fading into a weird gray color and eventually it was gone and there was nothing there at all and Isaac took a sudden, deep breath next to Stiles' face.
Stiles let go of his jersey and skittered back a bit, looking at his face. He ripped off his mask, feeling weirdly claustrophobic and groaned, "What the fuck, Isaac?"
"It's fine," the other teen replied, unhooking his own helmet more slowly.
"No! No it's not! Why the hell would you just stand there? What is wrong with you? That's so stupid!" Stiles ran his hands over his head in desperation and frustration.
"I'm not gonna use-"
"-your enhanced senses to help yourself? That is such bullshit! That is complete bullshit, Isaac! Fuck you! I'm sick of this shit! The next time I'm in danger and you have the chance to do something about it, you can't, alright? You don't get the right!"
"Stiles...you can't tell me not to-"
"The fuck I can't! You don't get to pick and choose when the kid gloves come off, Isaac! That is not how this works! So fuck you, I am done!" Stiles threw his gloves and his lacrosse stick on the ground like an adolescent and stalked toward the locker room. He didn’t really have any plan of action and to be honest, he had been Isaac’s ride here and he’d feel like a dick just leaving him stranded, though Isaac could still run on all fours through the woods and it wouldn’t take him but about half the time it took Stiles to drive him home anyway. Not that it would make Stiles feel any less of an asshole. He still planned on taking a shower, because driving while angry was something that his father told him not to do and he sure as fuck was angry right now and the spray would probably do him some good and calm his nerves.
He turned the water all the way up to scalding, because for some reason that seemed to make sense even though Stiles was more of a mild-to-warm temperature person and leaned himself into the spray of water that ran angry red splotches over his skin the moment it made contact. It should have made him uncomfortable, but for some reason it made him feel like he was washing away the mistake he’d just made. Had it been someone else, he’d have severely fucked up his shoulder all because he was pissed off and that was definitely not something he was okay with. Maybe it hadn’t taken Isaac that long to mend from the damage, but having been there to watch that mending happen had been a bit of an eye opener in some ways. There was a lot of shit that was coming for them - for Stiles - and when it was all said and done they were going to heal around him and he was going to be left for dead. It wasn’t like he hadn’t known that before, it was just difficult to have it painted right in front of his face in plain, red blood vessels and broken bones.
Stiles held his face up to the shower head and let the water wash over his face and pound down around his ears. It was loud enough that he didn’t hear Isaac creep in behind him and Stiles couldn’t help the startled yelp that escaped him when Isaac wrapped his arms around Stiles’ waist from behind, resting his chin on the other teen’s shoulder. They both sighed almost simultaneously and Stiles leaned back into him subconsciously, realizing that Isaac had clothes on and they were getting soaked under the spray of water, which made him both less of a creeper and kind of an idiot.
Isaac reached around Stiles and lowered the water temperature, allowing the heat between them to be warmth enough. Isaac was breathing against his neck and it certainly was warm, if not in the therapeutic way that Stiles had been seeking from the scalding water.
Stiles grunted. “This is the opposite of fucking off,” he said, though his conviction wasn’t strong.
“I want to protect you,” Isaac said near his ear and it should have seemed like an odd declaration, but Stiles knew where it was coming from.
“No. No, you want to put me in a plastic bubble and keep me from living a fucking life while you guys get the crap beat out of you just to keep me safe. No fucking way, dude.”
Isaac stuck his nose in the crook of Stiles’ neck and breathed in deeply. It shouldn’t have made him feel weak, but his legs became jello beneath him and Isaac was all but holding him upright with the arms around his waist now.
“We can handle it, Stiles,” Isaac spoke against Stiles’ neck in a low rumble of the throat.
“I don’t give a flying fuck. I don’t care if you can handle all the lacrosse balls to the face, Isaac. You don’t just stand there and take that shit for me and especially not from me!”
Isaac pulled back and spun Stiles around so quickly that he felt like he was going to get whiplash from it. Holding firmly to Stiles’ shoulders, he jolted him a couple of times as he said, “Dammit, Stiles! You were too close! I could have - I could have-” His face looked unpleasantly manic as he searched for the words he couldn’t choke out. He stepped back and tugged at the curls that were flattened out on the top of his head from the water soaked through it. There were water droplets everywhere, so Stiles couldn’t be entirely certain, but it looked like Isaac might be tearing up a little.
Stiles shook his head, but he didn’t move toward him. “You wouldn’t have. And if you spend all your time worrying about the ‘what if’s’, when are you going to live your life, Isaac?” He was not at all certain if it was his place to say things like that to Isaac. He was fairly certain that Isaac really didn’t want to make this anything more than it was, but he sure as fuck seemed pretty wrecked whenever he mentioned accidentally hurting Stiles.
“I can’t, Stiles - what if I - I can’t end up like him,” Isaac finally sobbed out and he was crying. He was shaking and he was vulnerable and it was breaking Stiles’ heart and making him want to throw up right then and there.
That was not the reaction he needed to be having, though, because Isaac needed him and Stiles knew that now was the right time so he enveloped Isaac into his arms like they were wings and he could hide him from the world with them if he wanted to. He tugged him down to the floor and hauled Isaac into his lap, curling the other teen’s head into his chest protectively as he began to rock him back and forth. “Shhhh, it’s okay. I’ve got you, I’ll keep you safe for now,” Stiles said and it probably sounded asinine, because how the fuck was he going to protect Isaac?
Yet for some reason it was true; this was something that he could do right now. He could take care of Isaac’s heart if Isaac would just let him and from the way that Isaac was curled into him and sobbing, it looked like for once the werewolf was going to concede and let Stiles do what he was best at. “Hey, don’t worry, okay? Nothing will ever make you like that, Isaac. You are your own person and you are amazing and caring and loving and kind of a cocky bastard, but it’s still in this adorable insecure way that makes people like you even when they want to hate you. And you’d never be him because you’re nothing like him, baby.” Stiles almost started at the endearment that slipped so easily from his lips, because he’d never called Isaac that before and it wasn’t like they were even dating, regardless of the fact that they’d been doing this weird hands-on thing for four and a half months now. He leaned down and kissed Isaac forehead instead, because there was no reason to freak out about it, right?
But Stiles’ heart banged off-kilter as Isaac shifted in his lap and sat up, because he had obviously been displeased with Stiles’ pet name and was trying to get away from him now. He would have been able to play it off like it didn’t bother him, but this was a werewolf so he’d noticed the shift in his heartbeat already and was smelling the change in his mood and fuck Stiles hated werewolves sometimes. Isaac leaned forward on his knees and looked Stiles in the face, sniffing away stray tears that still escaped his eyes as he stared Stiles down with those incredible eyes that made him want to crawl inside and drown himself.
Isaac reached his hands out and grabbed Stiles’ face between his hands. “Thank you,” he said and then he kissed him slowly and meaningfully and okay, maybe he hadn’t completely fucked everything up. He kissed Isaac back eagerly - maybe too eagerly, but dammit he was just happy to have done something for once and not have been told to ‘back off’ and ‘the big bad werewolves can handle it on their own, Stiles.’ Isaac broke away and Stiles whined stupidly, his face pooling with an uncomfortable blush at the sound. Isaac chuckled though, shaking his head and running his nose down the length of Stiles’ neck and scenting him, dammit. He really wasn’t sure he could take that right now, because he was suddenly aware of the fact that he was butt naked and Isaac was fully clothed and this didn’t seem fair and balanced at all.
“Isaac,” Stiles breathed, clutching at the werewolf’s sopping jersey front. “Can we not do this where my bare ass might get gangrene?” He laughed a little when he felt Isaac’s eyelashes roll against his neck.
“Yeah, okay,” Isaac laughed and tried to clamber onto his feet with Stiles in his arms, which really didn’t work out too well. They sort of fell all over each other in a tangle of limbs and laughter and it was probably for the best because it helped ease more of the tension from the earlier meltdown. Finally Isaac got on his feet and helped Stiles up and at that point they ended up kissing again and Stiles wasn’t certain they’d ever get out of the damned shower or locker room at this rate.
“Dude,” Stiles said, pushing him back finally. “Quit already, you’re gonna make me pop a boner!”
Isaac grinned wickedly and Stiles backed away even further, shaking his head. “Nuh uh, no way! Not in here - fuck that!” Stiles took off toward the lockers as fast as he could without actually falling on his face while soaking wet.
Isaac booked after him and for the first time the stupid dick actually used his wolf speed to catch up with him, snatching Stiles around the waist from behind in two seconds flat. If he wasn’t so damned surprised by that, he’d have been more playfully annoyed by it, but his eyes practically bugged out of his head as the realization hit him and then Isaac was setting him down and freaking the fuck out not a second after that.
“Oh fuck, did I-” Isaac started immediately, eyes roaming all over Stiles’ body at once.
“No! I just - I was surprised, shit! I’m sorry!” Stiles felt like a complete asshat for making Isaac worry.
“Why are you apologizing to me?” Isaac looked at him incredulously.
“Because I made you worry and that was the first time you - I don’t want you to not - Isaac...” Stiles moved forward and placed a hand on either of Isaac’s shoulders. “I want you to do that, okay? I want you feel like you can use your enhanced senses and not worry. I’m not made of glass and you’re not going to break me and I want you, okay? Jesus, Isaac, I want you to want me and... ohmygod I’m gonna shut up now.” Stiles had no idea how things had gone from wolf powers to wanting people and Jesus he hated his mouth sometimes.
Isaac was staring blankly at him again with that look like he was a huge idiot. Well, Stiles definitely was an idiot so that was probably warranted. “Are you serious? You think - you think I don’t want you, Stiles? What the hell do you think we’ve been doing all this time?”
He sputtered, becoming weirdly aware of the fact that he was completely naked again. Why did that happen at such uncomfortable times? “I don’t know... casual? I thought you just wanted to do friends with - with benefits or whatever.”
“You thought that I was so worried about hurting you because I just wanted to fuck you.” He didn’t even bother to ask it in the form of a question.
“Dude, you aren’t very easy to read! And it’s not like you’ve ever said anything!”
“You mean like, ‘Stiles, I want you’? That didn’t count?” Isaac rolled his eyes.
“It doesn’t really count during a hand job!” Stiles squeaked, feeling a little defensive about being figuratively backed into a corner. It had not been obvious, okay!
“I’ll give you that, but still. I would never use you like that, Stiles.”
“I never really thought of it as using, really. I just didn’t think that you wanted to be with me. Not with me. You don’t open up much so I just figured...” he looked at the ground and shrugged.
Isaac sighed and snagged Stiles by the arm and pulled him against his chest. “I’m sorry if I made you think that I just wanted you for your body. I mean, I do want your body - it’s fucking glorious - but I didn’t spend all that time letting you annoy the shit out of me because all I wanted was to shove it up your ass.”
Stiles leaned back, snorting and shaking his head. “Dude! There are so many things wrong with what you just said, I can’t even!” So he decided that it was better to just kiss Isaac and forgo speech altogether because as it turned out, neither one of them were very good at it all the time and sticking to wordless communication for a while might be the answer they needed. Stiles could certainly handle that.
- fin -