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The bundle of yellow weeds falls out of his locker onto the floor. It's the seventh, eighth? bundle he's received in the past two weeks.
Tansies. Tanacetum vulgare, Deaton had called them. Truthfully, Scott doesn't give a crap about what they're called. He cares about keeping his pack safe, and for a while things had been quiet enough for him to think they were. Safe. They still are, and he's not going to tell them otherwise, not until they make a move.
They, being the one sending the tansies.
Tanacetum vulgare, a less direct, more flowery way to declare war. They've declared war on Scott. They're continuing to declare war on him every other day, like he hasn't got the memo yet. Declaring war on Scott is declaring war on his entire pack. But his pack is tired and they deserve to rest up.
So, he keeps quiet about the tansies.
He doesn't know what the person sending them is, yet, but he has some assumptions.
Clearly they know a lot about flowers, and they're old-fashioned. Unless they're a florist, there's a large chance they're dealing with another druid. But there haven't been any sacrifices, so a witch, maybe? A practitioner of traditional medicine?
He doesn't know, and he honestly hopes to never find out. He hopes things will just fizzle out, that nothing happens and no one dies and someone just decided to play a prank on him.
Not that they ever get let off that easy. It's like becoming a werewolf opened a thousand new doors, and after each hides a more terrifying creature than the last. The only good thing from becoming a werewolf... At least he's on the lacrosse team now.
"Another one?" Stiles says. He shouldn't be able to sneak up on Scott like that with his werewolf senses and Stiles's general clumsiness. Maybe he's been getting lessons from Derek. That's probably a good thing for him. Honestly, the number of times Stiles alerts danger of their proximity is astonishing.
Scott hums, bending to pick up the weeds. He's gotten too familiar with the yellow buds and the dirty roots. "Yeah. You think they're gonna make a move soon?" He asks.
He can't remember the last time someone's dragged out attacking this long. Even Peter started killing people when he was still pretending to be comatose.
They walk towards their next class and Scott stops to drop the bundle in a trashcan along the way. He's convinced keeping him would mean defeat, or something. "I mean, it's been a while. If they were going to, they would've already, right?" Stiles sounds decidedly unsure of himself.
Scott waves at Isaac as he passes in the hallway. Erica and Boyd are nowhere to be seen. The three of them aren't always together. Most of the time Scott sees Isaac in private, it's just Isaac too, but that's different. It'd be really weird hanging out with Erica and Boyd in the same way he hangs out with Isaac. Still, it's strange seeing him out here on his own while he shares all his classes with the other two.
"Scott?" Stiles breaks him out of his thoughts.
He shakes his head. "Sorry, what were you saying?" Stiles shoots him a knowing look. So what, Scott kind of has a thing for Isaac? Scott can't even count the number of times Stiles has zoned out while staring at Derek's ass on both hands.
"It's probably nothing. Either that or they're planning something big." Stiles pushes open the door to their classroom and they take their usual seats near the back. Coach isn't even there yet.
Scott shrugs. "I don't know. I'm bracing myself for the worst." The worst being another attack. Which ends in them all dying in various torturous ways.
Stiles nods grimly. "I guess well-."
"Eyes up, mouths shut!" Coach walks into the classroom, clapping his hands how he does when he's trying to rile them up for a game. Scott shoots Stiles a look he hopes conveys the sentiment of 'let's revisit this later'.
Class passes in a blur, as does practice. He doesn't find another bundle of tansies, thank God. On bad days he'd find them three or four times a day. He's grateful today isn't one of those days. He's tired enough as is, on edge from everything that might rain down on them the next couple days.
He heads to the animal clinic for some extra hours. Technically, Deaton doesn't allow him to work more than 20 hours a week, but he's never explicitly told him to go home if he goes over it. And it's good to make some extra cash. He never knows when he'll be busy saving town.
Working with animals calms him. It always has. Before, it calmed him from whatever anxiety he had about tests or lacrosse, and now it distracts him from all the supernatural stuff.
It's also a good time to think about normal guy stuff instead of dedicating all his thoughts to the supernatural. Things like maybe how Isaac smiled at him in the hallway today. He feels giddy with it, different from how it was with Allison, but no less exciting.
And the animals don't judge. They don't know crap about him.
He doesn't have to worry about the senior cat Denise (who's there nearly twice a week for eating things she's not supposed to) snarling at him because she's actually some kind of evil mastermind. She's just a cat. And he's still helping, saving animals. Even if it's not of the supernatural kind.
(The animals are also great listeners if he's got a lot to talk about. Like on that day Isaac indirectly called him hot. He couldn't shut up about that all afternoon. Cat Denise scratched him across the face after two hours of listening patiently, but he guesses that's fair).
By the time he's putting his bike in the garage back home, it's dark out. He's tired and hungry and sweaty and gross. He'll have to take a shower first. He smells like cat and it's making him sneeze more than he's used to.
His mom isn't home, but she left a note that dinner's in the fridge. He can't wait, he loves it when she cooks, even though he doesn't often get to have meals with her.
He throws his jacket and bag onto the kitchen table and climbs the stairs with tired legs. It's stupid how he's a full-blown werewolf and still gets tired. Like come on, less bad guys more stamina would not be so bad.
He's halfway to pulling his shirt over his head, struggling to open the door to his room. Something in the air changes as it creaks open. He's not alone.
And he's not about to fight someone with his shirt off, so he pulls it back on. Except it's not someone he's fighting, because it's Isaac standing in the middle of the room looking a bit like he got caught doing something he shouldn't.
"Hey, what are you-." Scott's eyes drop to the yellow flowers held in front of Isaac's chest, hands clutching them tightly. "It's you?" Scott breathes.
He feels faint. Like he stood up too fast and all his blood is being drained from his head, or his entire body, honestly. His breath gets caught in his throat.
He'd considered a multitude of possibilities, but he'd never considered Isaac was the one sending him declarations of war every day, sometimes multiple times a day, for two weeks.
He'd thought they bonded. Since starting off on a not-so-good note, they'd become closer. At least close enough for Scott to consider him a friend. His best friend, after Stiles. He'd let him sleep in his room, in his mom's room.
Isaac was kind to him. Funny and annoying and also really, really sweet and shy. He could always rely on Isaac to be there for him, even during times when Stiles seemed to have some wavering loyalties.
They'd been friends. Hadn't they? At the very least?
Scott feels his tiredness rear its ugly head as his shoulders sag. There's no fight here. He doesn't want there to be. "I thought we were friends," he says, simply. Because in his head, it really is as simple as that. Isaac had grown on him. Even though he wasn't an official part of his pack, Scott had thought they'd at least look out for each other.
Isaac's face falls, as he lowers the flowers. He licks his lips and rakes one hand through the messy curls Scott had become so fond of. "I- We can stay friends if you want. We can just forget this ever happened. I'm sorry." His voice cracks and his breath hitches.
"How can we just forget this happened, Isaac?" Scott crosses his arms. He so desperately wants to forget, but how can he? How can Isaac suggest something like that? Like he hadn't spent these past weeks tormenting him, every damn chance he got.
The flowers drop to the ground and Isaac shuffles in place, as though he doesn't know whether he's still welcome in Scott's room. In his heart. Wherever he had been before. "I mean, I thought- but obviously I was wrong." He scoffs. "God, this is so embarrassing. You don't feel the same way."
"Obviously I don't feel the same way! Isaac, I can't believe you-."
"I'm sorry!" Isaac screams. Even he seems surprised about it, clenching his eyes shut. He swallows once, his Adam's apple bobbing. It looks painful. "Sorry, I would've never said anything if I knew you'd react like this."
"Why wouldn't I react like this?" Scott's voice grows, blooming in his chest where the pain left a gaping hole. Isaac opens his eyes again, and it's easy to pretend the pain behind them is real and not just some kind of trick. "We're you just pretending to be my friend? Was this your plan all along?"
"No! No, of course not, it just happened. I couldn't help it." Isaac steps forward, a pleasing look in his eyes. His big, open eyes, Scott had seen plenty of times. They look so different now.
"You couldn't help it? Come on, man." Scott sighs. "I've been feeling fucking hunted for days and you know that's not a nice feeling."
Isaac visibly recoils at that, his voice cracks as he speaks, "I'm sorry. I didn't know you felt that way." He looks up, his eyes a bit more set, slightly more certain. "I don't think we can be friends if you can't accept this part of me, and I don't think your other friends are going to like it when they find out. I mean, Derek-."
"Derek's in on this?" Scott puts his hands on his hips and looks at the ceiling. They're not fighting yet, not physically at least, so there must be something civil left in Isaac. "Did he put you up to this?" He just wants to believe it. He wants there to be something left of the Isaac he knows.
"No! Of course he didn't! It's all just me." He drags a hand down his face. "Sorry I made the wrong assumption, but you have no right to get angry like that. I can't be here anymore."
Isaac starts pushing past him, but he's quick to grab him by the arm to prevent him from leaving. "I don't know what you were expecting. You don't just declare war on someone and expect them to just roll over and die. We're good friends, but I wouldn't do that for anyone."
Scott feels Isaac go rigid, his body freezing in place. "What?" He asks, turning around with a frown on his face. "Why would you say that? I didn't declare war on anyone, unless you think my having feelings for you is so repulsive that you would immediately assume-."
Now it's Scott who freezes, his eyes widening. "Feelings?" He asks, pulling Isaac back into the room and closing the door behind him, "for me?"
"Who else would I have been talking to? Mr. Wobbles?" Mr. Wobbles is a teddy bear that has a wobbly eye that's close to falling off. His real name is Happy, but Isaac dubbed him Mr. Wobbles (courtesy of said wobbly eye). "Wait, you didn't know? Then what were you talking about? Did someone declare war on us?"
Us. Isaac says it like it's easy. And maybe it is. If this is all just some big, stupid misunderstanding, they could forget any of this ever happened and finally move forward in a way Scott has been aching for.
"The flowers." Scott motions to the bundle lying on the floor of his bedroom. "One of Deaton's books said it means 'I declare war upon you', or something. I thought there was a druid, or witch, or- please say it was all you."
He lets his hand slide down Isaac's arm until their fingers weave together as though they always knew their hands belonged intertwined. Even when the boys attached to them didn't have a clue.
"I'm so stupid," Isaac says, eyes wide. "I didn't even think to check if they meant something." He runs his other hand over his face. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay," Scott mumbles. "So there are no evil plans to kill me?" He jokes, lips tilting up into a small smile.
Isaac shakes his head. "Only poorly thought out attempts to romance you. Which failed and made you think you were being threatened."
Scott steps closer into his space. Isaac is tall. He has to tilt his head up to look at him. "I wouldn't say they failed completely, but maybe next time just flat out tell me you're into me." Places his hand on Isaac's cheek.
"I'm into you," Isaac says. "I'm so stupid for you, it's not even funny."
"That's good," Scott mumbles, watching Isaac's pupils blow wide. "Now you can kiss me."
Isaac clearly doesn't need to be told twice. He grabs Scott's face and pulls him in desperately, like he's been waiting on this a long time. He thinks they both have.
Their lips press together, warm and slightly chapped, but it somehow just makes things feel more real. It's as though he's floating above his own body, his soul only being tethered to his body only at the points where Isaac touches him.
He groans as Isaac runs his tongue along the seam of his mouth. God, they could've been doing this for weeks. Maybe even months. And now they've started… Scott never wants to stop.
He opens his mouth for Isaac, and a shiver runs down his back as their tongues touch. Isaac breathes hot air out of his nose, sliding his hand up under Scott's shirt.
The kiss breaks with a pop. Both their lips are wet with saliva, cherry red from the kissing. Scott's breathing is coming heavy and he honestly can't remember the last time he's felt so much in a positive way. A really positive way.
"I have to take a shower," he says. "I've been sweating a lot and I smell disgusting, but after I'm done..." He pulls Isaac down to place another lingering kiss on his mouth. "My mom left dinner in the fridge. We can warm it up and eat while watching tv?"
Isaac leans down on his own this time, hand sliding into Scott's hair. "Or I could just join you," he mumbles against his mouth.
Scott backs away with a grin, slapping his hand to Isaac's chest. "Behave!"
Rolling his eyes, Isaac leans in again. Scott doesn't think he's getting in the shower anytime soon.