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“Dude! No werewolf powers!” Stiles complained when Scott caught a ball in his crosse that had gone way too wide.
“So what? Should I let it pass and let it go all the way into Mitch and Veronica’s yard?”
“Of course you know your neighbours’ names,” Stiles frowned.
Scott smiled.
“Yeah? Don’t you know yours? Because I do. Old Mrs Dagget still lives next door. You know her,” Scott stated a fact about the Stilinskis’ neighbour.
“Well, I know her. She’s my neighbour. Why do you know her?”
Scott passed him the lacrosse ball. Stiles caught it easily ― mostly because it had been a good pass.
“She’s been living there for ages. I’ve been going to your place for ages. We have thrown plenty of lacrosse balls to her yard.”
“Yeah, well…” Stiles did not have a comeback to that.
Then Scott started counting with his fingers. “And frisbees, and soccer balls, and beach balls, and―”
“Yes, yes, yes, okay, enough, I get it…” Stiles gave up, throwing his arms up in the air. That made Scott chuckle. “We have a terribly long history with our respective neighbours that forces us to interact with them to retrieve our sports equipment.”
“Because we sucked.”
“Because we sucked…”
“But not anymore!” Scott added a positive note.
“I said no werewolf powers!”
“Okay.” Scott agreed.
“But no more werewolf powers,” he pointed at Scott with his stick, insisting. “I mean it. For reals.”
“Dude…” Scott rolled not just his eyes, but his whole head.
“No, dude! You can’t! It… It makes me look bad.”
“To be honest, that pass could have been better…”
Stiles narrowed his eyes. Scott smirked at him, clearly teasing.
“But how am I going to get bet―”
Stiles and Scott’s conversation was interrupted by a very loud and unexpected clash, followed by a thud, followed by a pile of garbage spilling out of its bin and onto the street. And, out of the once-neat pile of trash, stood an upside-down bike, its wire wheel spinning freely.
For a whole and never-ending second, they both stood still, witnessing that unexpected interruption. The spell broke when they heard a groan. In the blink of an eye both Scott and Stiles had dropped their crosses and rushed to help.
“Oh, shit, are you okay?” Scott asked as he approached.
“Urgh… I’ve been better…”
Scott stopped dead in his tracks. He knew that voice. Stiles stopped by his side.
“Isaac?” Scott asked, arching a brow.
From under the boxes and compost remains, sprung a hand with a thumb up.
“Isaac!” Scott hurried over and there, indeed, was Isaac Lahey: classmate, teammate, once-lab partner, a member of Derek’s pack and that one time on the ice rink, failed bully.
“I think the old newspapers and discarded furniture broke my fall,” he said, still supine on the trash. “I don’t want to know what the mushy and wet thing that I have under my shoulder is, but by the smell alone I can guess it’s bin juice…”
“Let me help you up,” Scott offered a hand, and Isaac…
Isaac hesitated for a second.
There was a flash of doubt across his face. It was the same doubt that he had seen on Isaac that night at the club. To be fair, it had been an odd interaction. He kind of wished he could’ve simply put his hand on Isaac’s shoulder back then, to make sure he really understood that he was worrying about him, but Scott thought that perhaps going for the lower arm was safer. He knew how Isaac felt about being touched without sufficient forewarning. However, half-way in this manoeuvre, his brain had aborted the mission, so his panicked hand had ended up just brushing Isaac’s knuckles… Which was a silly thing to do. Knuckle brushing… whoever had heard of that? What a stupid thing to have done…
But just as Scott was having that flashback, Isaac grabbed his hand, and the touch they shared, the firm grip of Isaac’s long fingers around his hand gave him a shocking sensation running up his arm and into his chest.
Instinctively, he pulled Isaac up and, once they were both standing, Isaac let go of his hand. The electricity that burnt inside him was gone in that instant. But… a warm, jittery feeling that softly hovered around his hand remained.
Scott felt the corner of his lip pulling. He also noticed Isaac’s eyes lingering on him…
“What on Earth were you doing here?” Stiles blurted, and Scott felt the whole bubble they had been immersed in pop. “And are you okay? Don’t werewolves have, like, super-reflexes? What were you looking at?
“It was… uh… an accident,” Isaac said, and the way his brow turned told Scott that Isaac was not happy with accidents. He would never know, but could guess, that in the Lahey house accidents were… something else entirely.
“Why don’t you come home and get yourself cleaned?”
“You’re gonna need a shower,” Stiles leant back, pulling a face.
Isaac ignored him. “I… I’ll be fine, don’t worry, I just―”
“You’re covered in my neighbour’s dinner,” Scott insisted with a smile. “And it’s not that fresh anymore…”
“I don’t―”
“It’s no trouble,” Scott offered. “Honestly. Please.”
There were cogs clicking and ticking inside Isaac’s head. Stiles made some comment, but Scott was too busy trying to read Isaac’s reaction.
“Just a quick wash,” he accepted.
“Great!” Scott beamed. Why that made him so happy, he could not understand, but never mind that. “Stiles can you pick the bike?”
“The bike?” Stiles did not like that.
“I can get the―”
“You need a shower,” Scott chuckled. “Come on, I’ll get you sorted out,” and, with that, he led Isaac towards the house.
Stiles was left behind, looking at the bike with his hands on his hips and cursing. “Stupid Isaac, and his stupid bike and―” He pulled the bike, but he pulled too hard and whatever had trapped it in place let go, so Stiles tripped back and fell on the ground.
There was something squishy and wet under his shorts.
“Oh, no…” he moaned as he felt a shiver run down his spine. “Gross…. Grossgrossgrossgross,” he said as he tried to roll away from the dirt, making only more of a mess with the oily liquid that was pooling around him. “EWW… GROSS. Scott? SCOTT! I need a shower too! SCOTT! Ewwwww.”
Stiles made it out of the rubbish and, inelegantly dragging the bike, he pushed it into one of Melissa’s (empty) flower beds and walked into the house.
“SCOTT! SCOTT HELP!”
Scott appeared suddenly from the stairs, looking quizzically at his friend.
“Oh…” was all Scott could say. He could see by Stiles’ pose alone that he was trying to keep his shirt from touching his body and failing. The smell was also quite self-evident.
“Not ‘oh’. EW!” he said as he dry-retched. “I need a shower too.”
“Okay, but Isaac’s in―”
“ISAAC!” Stiles shouted, storming up the stairs. Scott followed him. “LAHEY, NO! BAD WEREWOLF.”
“What’s wrong with you now?” Isaac said as he stepped out of the guest bathroom, trousers off and a towel in his hand.
While Stiles huffed his affront, Scott had to gulp. Why was he suddenly so interested in Isaac’s pants?
“That’s my bathroom. And my towel,” Stiles said as he pulled it out of Isaac’s hand.
“Intense much?” Isaac frowned, looking unfazed as Stiles threw Isaac’s clothes out into the corridor.
“My bathroom!” Stiles insisted. Then he closed the door. “Life-long privilege!”
Then, a pause.
Scott and Isaac shared a look. They both smiled, both slightly embarrassed, and not all of it was second-hand because of Stiles’ behaviour.
“That’s his, uh, bathroom…”
“Yeah, uh… Why does Stilinski have a bathroom and a towel in your house?” Isaac asked.
“Uh… it’s easier like this. My mom has tried…” he shook his head. Isaac chuckled. “Anyway… I guess you can use my bathroom. I’ll get you a clean towel and, uh… clean clothes.”
At the mention of the clothes, Scott’s lip curved again, this time as he bit his lip. And that was when Isaac realised that he was in nothing but a dirty t-shirt and his undies in Scott’s corridor. His neck began to feel hot and he knew his ears had to be flaring bright pink.
“Uh, I, uh, yes, I―bathroom. Right,” he mumbled, all flustered.
“It’s right here,” Scott said, feeling himself blush and pointing at his room. He could not be blushing now, but he had no control over it, so he tried talking faster, to make this sudden embarrassing situation end ASAP. “Uh, my room, and my, uh, bath―”
“Yes, yes, uh, thanks, McCall. Uh, maybe I should just go and―not your bathroom and―”
“Oh!” Scott’s brain caught up with a thought he had had earlier, pushing everything else aside. “I can’t let you go out in dirty clothes. My mom would disinherit me. Please,” he pleaded with a smile and his eyes focused on Isaac’s worried eyes, which was perhaps the safest option now that Scott was slowly coming to realise what he was feeling. “And hurry up before Stiles hogs all the hot water.”
Isaac paused for a second. He looked at his boots, socks and jacket on the floor at his bare feet. And Isaac was a new werewolf, but he could smell that Scott was anxious, and he did not want to make Scott anxious. He was already blushing and half-naked himself. He was the one who was about to get properly anxious next.
“I…” he tried to think of an excuse, but Scott reached out with his hand.
“Come on, please,” he said, and Isaac lost all of his will. He let himself take the two steps that separated him from Scott’s door and there he passed him. And there was where Scott placed a hand on his shoulder, guiding him gently into his room. Isaac felt his stomach contract into a bundle and his skin flare hot.
“Okay, uh, fine. I, uh…”
“Just shower now,” Scott insisted. “I’ll go get a towel. Will bring it in a minute.”
“… thanks,” he offered, and that was all that he needed to say to make Scott’s smile dial up to the max.
Isaac could not help smiling himself, even as he closed the door.
Scott stood there, frozen where he stood, his heart pumping like mad. It was only when Stiles began shouting a song in the other shower that he reacted. He needed to get a towel from the linen closet, he needed to get clothes that would fit Isaac, and he had to sit down and have a glass of water because he… he might have developed something for Isaac Lahey.
Rushing, Scott got out into the corridor and from the closet he picked up the blue and white striped towel that he liked best. It was soft and smelled of his mother’s fabric softener. He dashed back into his room and placed it on the bed, then went through his drawers. Shorts were easy to pick. Surely Isaac would not mind going out in shorts. It was warm and summery out there. But the shirt? He went through his neatly folded t-shirts, and before he could realise it, he was choosing a shirt of his for Isaac to wear, and he wanted one that would look nice on him. Picking one that was slightly too small was tempting, but he had never seen Isaac wearing tight-fitting anything. So he had to pick one of his baggier shirts, hoping that it would just be Isaac’s fit.
And since when had he been noticing what Isaac wore?
The shower went off in Scott’s bathroom, and he panicked.
“ISAAC!” he called. The water cut short. In a second Isaac’s head poked out through the ajar door.
“Scott?” he asked, and he was even more flustered than he had been before, and Scott was mortified. His mouth was dry. Why was all this happening to him?
“Uh… towel…” he said, forcing a smile as he picked the linen from the bed and handed it over.
“Oh, uh, thank you,” Isaac managed a tense smile. Oh, he was two-hundred percent naked behind that door. Scott had pulled him out of the shower. And now both of them were blushing.
“Here,” Scott said as he put the towel forward.
Isaac’s hand reached out and there it happened again.
Isaac’s long fingers on Isaac’s hand, brushing his knuckles this time. Scott looked down, at the towel, and in that second Isaac’s hand gripped the towel and took it.
“Thank you,” he said in an impossibly soft voice.
Scott looked up. Isaac was smiling. Scott smiled too.
Stiles’ song bellowing reached a new height, and Isaac mumbled something as he retreated back into the bathroom. Scott nodded, and took a step back. The door clicked. Scott’s calves hit the edge of his bed. Isaac turned the shower, and Scott had to sit down. Why was it so hot all of a sudden?
Hot.
He shot up like a spring and darted down to the kitchen to get a glass of water.
The water was cold down his throat, and it helped grounding him. He placed his elbows on the kitchen counter and sank his head. He ran his fingers through his hair. Through anxiety and confusion came realisation.
Scott had known for a while that he was…. Scott thought about it as ‘not one-hundred percent straight’. He was not sure about the degree involved there. That Stiles voiced all his weird non-straight thoughts out loud every now and then had helped him realise this side of him, and while Danny was happily out and proud, Scott did not feel like he could do that. Not until he was… certain.
That summer day, of all days, certainty had creeped up on him, hand in hand with Isaac, it seemed.
He had another glass, and tried to think constructively, rather than panic. He had seen Isaac naked many times in the changing rooms, right? He should not be that flustered or excited. Hell, he had seen everyone in the lacrosse team naked at one point or another. Scott had secretly appreciated the sights, but kept it to himself, and Isaac had never stood out. He had been… just one of the team, right? Yet seeing him blushing, in nothing but a shirt and his underwear reaching for his hand, with that half smile and that pink glow up his ears had… had been different. Eye-openingly different.
They had been very close. Not too close, but… close enough. They had been looking into each other’s eye and had smiled. Had that been a flash of… recognition? A hint of a shared feeling? Had that… piqued Scott’s interest?
Scott had a flashback to that first recognition they had shared, out on the lacrosse field when their eyes had glowed at the same time. That had felt like a spark inside him. It had been one of the few times using his interpersonal werewolf powers that had not ended up in a fight. And it had felt… deep. He had not felt that with Derek, or Erica or Boyd. But… now that Scott thought about that, they had shared a second moment of mutual recognition, in Jungle.
That stupid knuckle brush…
But it had been more than that, right? The knuckle brush, that afternoon in the clinic when Deaton had taught Isaac how to take pain, that same evening when Isaac came back to win. So what if they had built a connection? Was that enough to…
…then it hit him.
Scott knew when he had last built such an unexpected bond and the last time he had been this flustered.
Allison.
Of course, with Allison it had been easy. Not only because she was a girl and it had made sense and she had been reciprocal and proactive. It also had been fast; fast and intense, and bright and― and it had filled every second of Scott’s life for a while. That feeling he had had was no more. It was, but it was not the same, just as Allison was not there, and it did not feel the same.
With Isaac it was feeling very similar and equally intense.
“Now, that was the grossest thing I have been through,” Stiles said as he appeared through the kitchen. He described the smell and the solid remains he had been in as he opened the fridge, pulled out bread, ham and mustard, and then went off to the chopping board. He had so many adjectives to apply to the slimy sludge that had been at the bottom of those bags and bins that Scott had to wonder if he had brought a thesaurus into the shower. “So, in short, I think―Scott?” he stopped. He had already made a quick sandwich and was about to take a bite. “Scotty, you okay? You look like…” he took a bite, and continued asking with a mouth full of ham and mustard sandwich. “I’ve seen this face before, and… can’t quite place it. And I don’t like it.”
“I’m screwed…” was all Scott had to say.
“You’re not the one who landed on that pile of shit and had to scrub it off,” Stiles frowned, sandwich still in hand. “And I don’t think I can save that shirt I was wearing, so we may have to burn it.”
“Stiles…” Scott huffed. “I promise, this is serious.”
“How serious?” Stiles leant in closer, conspiratorially. “Hunters serious? Or Kanima serious?” he asked placing his hand flat at two different heights.
“Uh…” Scott was not sure how this would rank in Stiles’ grading system, but it was serious to him, and he could only grade it with his own scale. “Allisonnnn serious,” he said in a low voice that dragged her name.
Stiles gasped for a brief instant, understanding Scott’s distress, but still not fully aware of the situation. “Okay, how has this happened? And how long has this been going on?”
“It’s just… it’s been so unexpected,” Scott put his hands on his head. “I did not see it coming, but it was… it feels like it has always been there?”
“Aham, aham, aham,” Stiles nodded. “Fair enough, that’s how these things happen,” he rationalised, ever the expert. “But do I know her? Does Allison know? Where is she? Did she just text you? Or did you text her? And why has this just happened while I was in the shower? Because, last I remember I was―”
“Uh, Scott?” Isaac’s voice came from the stairs, and the steps coming down were unmistakable. “I, uh… I’m not sure this shirt really fits?”
Scott froze. Stiles noticed.
“OhmygodScott,” Stiles’ eyebrows shot up when the penny dropped. That realisation made Scott blush immediately and violently. “You’re hot for Isaac―”
“PLEASEDON’TSAYANYTHING!” Scott whisper-shouted and begged.
“YOUHAVESOMANYTHINGSTOEXPLAIN,” Stiles agreed while, at the same time, threatening his best friend with the sandwich in his hand. “We’re in the kitchen!” Stiles said over his shoulder.
Then Isaac stepped into the kitchen.
“Yes, uh, I…” Isaac spoke as he pulled the shirt sleeves, trying to make it less tight around his shoulders. Scott had to remember to close his mouth. “I may just take it off. I don’t want to stretch it.”
“Don’t you dare!” Stiles said. Scott spoke at the same time: “Don’t worry, that’s okay…”
It was very odd. Scott had seen Stiles wear his clothes billions of times. He had worn Stiles’ clothes equally as often. But he had never seen Isaac in his clothes. And, on top of everything, now Scott could tell that Isaac smelled like him. He had used Scott’s gel, and Scott’s body spray, and he had used the towels that smelled like his home. Isaac should not smell like that, but it was comforting and alluring. And was that a lone water drop running down Isaac’s cheek from Isaac’s still-wet curls?
Scott was feeling warm in his chest and weak in his knees.
“Okay, Stilinski…” Isaac said as he sat down with the two other boys.
“Okay, we all keep our shirts on,” Stiles decided.
They all nodded, but the situation was awkward in the McCall kitchen. Isaac and Scott were very obviously trying not to stare at each other. Scott’s eyes could not settle on Isaac’s face or his own shirt on Isaac. Isaac a couple of times opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. And the silence there dragged, with Stiles sitting there, watching this develop in real-time, as he finished his sandwich.
“You used to be more eloquent,” Stiles looked at Isaac, now in defensive mode. “You always had something to say, when you were high on werewolf power.”
Isaac cocked his head towards Stiles, and frowned. He crossed his arms over his chest, ready to say something snarky, but this was interrupted by Scott ― by Scott making an odd coughing noise in his throat at the sight of Isaac’s shoulders flexing under his shirt.
“Huh… so… Scotty, anything you want to share with the class?” Stiles pressed his best friend’s buttons. “Maybe while Isaac is here?”
Scott panicked at being put on the spot all of the sudden. His mouth opened and he felt a burning heat in his ears, all while Isaac looked at him with his blue eyes. Again, Scott felt that sensation of connection, or recognition; he had that flashback to the lacrosse field right after Isaac got the bite, but also to that moment in Jungle. Isaac was looking at him and looking for something in Scott’s eyes.
Isaac’s lips curled up a fraction. Scott’s did the same.
There was an understanding there. Scott could feel it. He could not be wrong, not when his body was reacting in unison. It all felt right, especially now that Isaac was looking at him right in the eye.
“You also used to be more agile, with being a werewolf,” Stiles interrupted. “How did you ride your bike into a pile of trash?” he finished his sandwich in one big bite. “Huh?” he asked, mouth full.
Isaac waited for a second before turning around. The thing was, that even as he was replying to Stiles’ question, he was still looking at Scott.
“I was distracted from the road. I…” and then Isaac actually looked down, and bit his lip. Scott waited. “I, uh… I saw you got a haircut, Scott.”
“I… I did,” Scott nodded.
Isaac smiled with more confidence now. “It suits you, I think. I… I like it.”
“You saw Scott’s haircut and―” Stiles spoke, but neither of the two werewolves were paying too much attention. Then it was Stiles’ turn to choke a frustrated noise in his throat. “Okay, I get it. You clearly are getting it. I’m going to leave now and I hope you both resolve your homoerotic tension after I’m through the door, because I don’t need to be here to see more than what I’m already seeing. And I’m already seeing too much.”
“Thanks, Stiles,” Scott said as he felt a growing confidence in him. He still had to break eye contact with Isaac.
“God, I’ve seen enough,” Stiles said and he dashed out of the kitchen. Then out of the front door.
“So you like my haircut?” Scott asked with a bubbly smile.
Isaac nodded, biting his lip as he walked closer towards Scott. “Yes,” he nodded and a hand moved up to touch Scott’s hair. “I… it looks nice. Nice on you.”
“I think my shirt looks nice on you,” Scott admitted.
“Do you?”
“Yeah,” Scott nodded as his hands moved to Isaac’s shoulders, running soft fingers along the hems and the collar. “I think you should keep it.”
They stood in the kitchen, Isaac’s elbows on Scott’s shoulders with his fingers hovering around Scott’s hair, not daring to touch, and Scott’s hands barely touching the gifted shirt.
“Is this odd?” Scott asked.
“I don’t think so. Not with you?”
“Is it just me then?”
“I may have had my eyes on you for a while, McCall…” Isaac admitted, shrugging his shoulders. “But it never felt like… it was going to happen?” he added as his right hand found his left one behind Scott’s neck.
Scott’s hand also found their way to each other behind Isaac’s midriff, pulling them closer. “Did it take you hitting the garbage to realise?”
Isaac chuckled at that.
“Well… the cans, the smelly outcome and your offer of a shower.”
Scott snorted a chuckle. Isaac smiled at that and then he brought his head down to Scott’s forehead.
“It’s nice when you’re this close. But only now that you’re clean and not covered in bin juice…”
Isaac nodded and pulled Scott closer. “It helps that Stiles is not here.”
“Let’s not bring Stiles into this right now, because I know that’s going to be a long rant…”
“Agreed. So what do we do now…?” Isaac asked, ducking his head lower to look into Scott’s eyes.
Scott thought. Then he took a step back.
Isaac was visibly confused when their embrace broke, but he did not have time to react, because Scott’s hand found his.
“I think it’s customary to go on a date.”
“A werewolf date in this town?”
“Let’s try to make it not-werewolf related,” Scott told him. “What about a bike ride?”
“A bike ride?”
“Yup,” Scott nodded. “Will you, Isaac Lahey, number fourteen, come with me on a bike ride?” he asked as he squeezed Isaac’s hand.
Isaac had to smile. “Well, I could never say no to my captain. On one condition,” he added, lifting a finger.
“Anything,” Scott promised, and Isaac, like every other time that he had interacted with Scott, had no room for doubt that he meant it. Isaac had seen too many broken promises in his life, from his dad, his brother, his neighbours and his teachers. But Scott had never given him room for doubt. There had always been something deep in his gut that knew that Scott would keep his promise. It was terrifying to think about it, but there were many layers to Isaac’s feelings towards Scott.
Being with Scott filled Isaac with confidence, with calmness. He felt safe with Scott, in a way he had not felt with anyone in years.
“Eyes on the road at all times,” Isaac smirked. “Nobody ends up in a pile of trash again.”
“Promised,” Scott beamed like the sun.