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The scent of industrial cleaner, overpriced textbooks, and the faint smell of dorm-washed laundry drifted in the hallway of UC Davis. For Scott McCall, it was a sensory overload, not the supernatural kind, but one of pure, human, first-week-of-freshman-year panic.
“He’s just… right there,” Scott mumbled, his shoulder nudging against a row of lockers as he slouched beside his best friend.
Stiles Stilinski, followed Scott’s gaze. Down the hall, leaning against a bulletin board plastered with club flyers, was a guy. Tall, with a mess of short brown hair and a lean frame, swimming in a worn leather jacket. He was scanning the crowd with a look of detached curiosity.
“And?” Stiles prompted, nudging Scott with his elbow. “Go. March. Use your words. They’re not just for reciting the anatomy of random animals you’ll instantly forget.”
“I can’t just… go,” Scott hissed, his alpha confidence seemingly locked in his dorm room. “What do I say? ‘Hey, I’m Scott, I have enhanced senses and sometimes my eyes glow’? Not a great opener.”
“Ugh, you’re the worst werewolf ever,” Stiles groaned, throwing his hands up. He stopped walking, forcing Scott to halt beside him. He grabbed Scott by the shoulders, giving him a little shake. “Scott. Listen to me. You’re an Alpha.”
His voice dropped to a passionate, theatrical whisper. “The Apex Predator. The Top of the Food Chain. Everyone in this concrete jungle,” he gestured wildly at the passing students, “wants a piece of you. You know what you are? You’re the hot girl that every guy wants to talk to but is too scared to approach.”
Scott blinked, the metaphor crashing into his brain and sputtering there. “I’m the hot girl?”
“You are the hottest girl I know,” Stiles declared with absolute conviction. He punctuated the statement with two firm, brotherly fist-bumps to Scott’s chest. “Now go get him, hot girl.” And with a final, encouraging nod, Stiles pivoted on his heel and vanished into the stream of students heading to the Criminology building, leaving Scott stranded in the middle of the hallway.
Scott stood frozen, the phrase I'm the hot girl echoing in his head. He was so busy trying to rewire his self-perception that he didn’t notice the blond guy push off the bulletin board and amble towards him, a small, hesitant smile playing on his lips.
“What?” the guy asked, his voice a soft, curious rumble. He glanced in the direction Stiles had disappeared, clearly regretting barging into the tail end of… whatever that was.
Scott’s head snapped up. His heart, which had been beating a steady rhythm of anxiety, did a funny little stutter. The guy was even better up close, all sharp cheekbones and startlingly blue eyes that held a trace of amusement. The mantra Stiles had implanted took over.
“I’m the hot girl,” Scott stated, more to himself than to the newcomer. He said it with a newfound, if bewildered, pride.
The guy’s smile widened, transforming his wary expression into something open and genuinely charming. His gaze flickered over Scott, his earnest blue eyes, the strong line of his jaw, the way he held himself with a confident posture. His eyes lingered, just for a heartbeat, on Scott’s lips.
“Yes,” the guy said, his voice dropping into a lower, more intimate register. “You are.”
The sound, the directness of it, sent a warm flush up Scott’s neck. Reality caught up with him, and he realized he was just staring into the eyes of the very person who had been the subject of his mini-crisis. He let out a short, breathless chuckle, his cheeks coloring.
“So, hot girl,” the guy said, taking a half-step closer. The scent of leather and rain-washed skin enveloped Scott. “What’s your name? I’m Isaac, by the way.”
“I’m… Scott,” Scott managed to fluster out, his alpha composure completely MIA.
“Scott,” Isaac repeated, as if testing the sound. A slow grin spread across his face. “Cute name for a hot girl.” Before Scott could process it, Isaac reached up and ran a hand through Scott’s short, cropped hair. His fingers were surprisingly gentle, giving the strands a little playful tussle that sent a shiver down Scott’s spine. It was an unprompted intimacy, and Scott, to his own surprise, leaned into it.
“Say,” Isaac murmured, his hand lingering for a moment before dropping. “This hallway’s a little crowded for a proper introduction. Why don’t we bounce from here? My car’s in the west lot. We could… talk. With less background noise.”
The invitation was clear, the subtext humming in the air between them. Scott’s earlier anxiety melted away, replaced by a buzzing, hopeful excitement. He met Isaac’s gaze, a shy smile finally breaking through.
“Sure, hot guy,” Scott said, the blush returning, but his voice steadier.
Isaac’s laugh was a quiet, delighted sound. “I like that.” He nodded towards the exit. “After you, hot girl.”
As they walked side-by-side down the hall, the crowd seemed to part for them. Scott made a mental note to thank Stiles later.
The autumn sun was warm on Scott’s skin as they stepped out of the brick building and onto the paved path leading to the student lots. The silence between them wasn’t awkward; it was charged, a thin wire of anticipation humming in the air.
“You know,” Isaac said, his voice casual as his shoulder brushed against Scott’s. “I was watching you from down the hall. Before your friend gave you that… motivational speech.” He shot Scott a sideways grin. “Couldn’t help it. You’ve got this… vibe. Really cute. And your face. It’s very… honest.”
Scott felt the compliment land somewhere deep in his chest, warm and pleasant. “Oh. Thanks. You’re… I mean, you’re not so bad yourself. You smell really good,” He cringed internally. Smooth, McCall. Real smooth.
Isaac just chuckled, a low, rich sound. Then, in a move that stole the breath from Scott’s lungs, Isaac slipped his arm through Scott’s, linking them at the elbow. It was an old-fashioned, almost courtly gesture, but the intent was entirely modern. Scott, after a second of stunned hesitation, let himself lean into the contact. Isaac was taller, and the solid warmth of his body against Scott’s side was intoxicating.
A heat, entirely separate from the sun, began to bloom under Scott’s skin. It started at the point where their arms were linked and spread outwards, a flushing, heavy sensation that made the tips of his ears burn. His heart was doing a frantic, happy drum solo against his ribs. He could feel every tiny shift of Isaac’s jacket, hear the soft rhythm of his breathing.
“You’re adorable when you’re flustered,” Isaac murmured, his head tilting towards Scott’s. He’d clearly noticed the crimson tide rising on Scott’s neck and cheeks. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a guy get so head-over-heels, so fast.”
The comment pulled a giggle from Scott, high and a little nervous. “I’m surprised,” Scott managed, his voice slightly breathless. “I’d bet there are a lot of guys who’d… you know. Want to talk to you. You just have that look.”
Isaac’s smile softened. He stopped walking for a moment, turning to face Scott more fully, though he didn’t unlatch their arms. His blue eyes were disarmingly sincere. “Maybe. But none of them were ever close to your league, Scott.”
Scott’s breath hitched.
Isaac’s gaze traveled over his face, lingering. “I love your smell,” he said, his voice dropping to something almost confidential. “Like… rough cedar and athleticism. And these eyes.” He brought his free hand up, his thumb gently brushing just beneath Scott’s lower lash. “Total puppy dog eyes. It’s like you’re a sheep in wolf’s clothing.”
Thump.
Scott’s heart didn’t just skip a beat, it performed a chaotic, stumbling roll. The laugh that escaped him was awkward, strangled. Sheep in wolf’s clothing. The irony was so sharp it was almost painful. For a terrifying second, he worried the passion of the moment, the intensity of his feelings, might trigger a ruby flicker in his irises or make his claws prickle against his palms. He had to get a grip.
But then he looked into Isaac’s eyes. They were so clear, so focused entirely on him. There was no calculation, just captivated interest. All of Scott’s worries just… melted away. In this moment, he was just a guy. A very flustered, very smitten guy.
“C’mon,” Isaac whispered, giving his arm a gentle tug.
They arrived at a vintage black Corvette, clean but clearly well-loved. Without letting go of Scott, Isaac used his key fob. The chunk-chunk of the doors unlocking echoed in the quiet lot. But instead of opening the passenger door, Isaac walked them to the back.
He pulled the rear door open, revealing a surprisingly tidy backseat. “More room,” he said simply, his meaning clear.
Scott hesitated for only a second. The space was intimate, closed off. But the pull of Isaac’s arm, the promise in his eyes, was irresistible. He ducked inside, sliding across the smooth upholstery. Isaac followed, pulling the door shut behind them, plunging them into a dim, private world that smelled like leather, Isaac’s cologne, and that intoxicating, clean scent he’d just complimented.
The door shut with a soft, definitive thud, sealing them in a twilight world of soft leather and shared breath. The sounds of the campus muffled into a distant, irrelevant buzz.
For a moment, they just looked at each other in the dim light filtering through the tinted windows. Scott’s heart was a wild thing against his ribs, a frantic counter-rhythm to the slow, deliberate way Isaac was looking at him.
“Hi,” Isaac whispered, a smile playing on his lips as he leaned back against the opposite door, one leg stretched out along the seat.
“Hi,” Scott echoed, the word coming out as a breathless sigh.
The space between them was an unspoken question. Scott answered it by shifting forward, closing the gap until their knees touched. Isaac’s hand came up, his fingers tracing the line of Scott’s jaw, a touch so tender it made Scott’s eyes flutter closed for a second.
“Still the hot girl?” Isaac teased, his thumb brushing Scott’s lower lip.
“Only if you’re the hot guy,” Scott murmured, leaning into the touch.
“Deal.”
The first kiss was a soft press, exploratory and sweet. The second one was less hesitant, a slow melt that made a quiet sound catch in Scott’s throat. By the third, any lingering hesitation evaporated. Isaac’s hand slid from Scott’s jaw into his hair, cradling the back of his head as he deepened the kiss. Scott responded in kind, his own hands finding themselves on Isaac’s leather jacket, gripping the worn material as if to anchor himself in this dizzying, wonderful freefall.
It was all-consuming. The scent of Isaac, the taste of him, the firm warmth of his body as Scott instinctively moved closer, half-straddling Isaac’s lap to get nearer still. The kisses grew deeper, more passionate, a language of gasps and soft sighs that filled the small space. Scott was burning up from the inside, a flush that spread from his face down his neck, painting his skin with a warmth he was sure Isaac could feel.
Between kisses that left them both breathless, Isaac spoke, his lips moving against Scott’s skin, along his jaw, down the column of his throat.
“You have no idea,” he breathed, his voice rough with want. “No idea what you do to me. Saw you and just… knew.”
Scott whimpered, bleeding into the words as much as the touch.
“You feel like… like coming home to somewhere I’ve never even been,” Isaac continued, pulling back just enough to look into Scott’s eyes. His own were dark, pupils blown wide with affection and desire. “You’re so good, Scott. I can feel it. It’s everywhere you are.”
Each word was a key turning in a lock deep within Scott’s chest. He’d been complimented before, but this was different. This wasn’t about being strong or fast or a good Alpha. This was about him. The core of him. And it was being seen, and cherished, by this beautiful, surprising person.
He was falling, hard and fast, a vertigo that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the blue eyes holding his. The realization must have shown on his face, painted in the deepening red of his blush, in the way his next kiss was less passionate hunger and more desperate, grateful worship.
Isaac smiled against his lips, a curve of pure, delighted wonder. “I love that,” he whispered between kisses. “Love how you feel everything. You’re not hiding any of it.”
Scott couldn’t speak. He could only answer with another kiss, pouring every swirling, overwhelming emotion into it. His hands framed Isaac’s face, his thumbs stroking those sharp cheekbones as if memorizing them. The world outside the car ceased to exist. There was only this. The scrape of leather, the heat of their bodies tangled together in the backseat, the sweet, urgent rhythm of their mouths, and the whispered, perfect words that were weaving a spell around Scott’s heart, tying it irrevocably to the boy holding him.