Work Text:
He wakes up slowly, and notices that it's still dark.
"Isaac?"
Scott's voice croaks in the dark, still heavy with the sound of sleep, and he squints his eyes against the harsh red light of his alarm clock. 2:29, it reads, and he breathes in slowly, feeling the ache of it fill his lungs before letting it out. There's enough light in the room that he can see that Isaac's not on the air mattress, but judging by the arm wrapped around his abdomen, he has a pretty good guess as to where Isaac actually is.
"Isaac." he repeats, stronger this time, and he lays his hand on top of Isaac's, most likely to remove it, but he loses the incentive when he hears the low, vaguely distressed whimper that resonates from deep in Isaac's throat. He's still not awake, but he buries his face into the back of Scott's neck, curling his long limbs around Scott's body snugly, like he's trying to protect something.
Scott ends up clasping that hand gently instead, turning his head slightly to try and get a better look at the young man behind him. The curls of Isaac's hair tickle his nose.
"Isaac." he murmurs, lower, something of a comforting rumble that resonates through his back, that Isaac most likely felt more than heard. Some part of Isaac, the wolf part, Scott thinks, reaches out towards that comfort.
"Mmph?" Isaac mumbles into the back of his neck, hazy and half-conscious. Scott closes his eyes and breathes in the scent of him, something earthy and sweet and warm, allows Isaac some time to loosen himself from sleep. "What is it?" Scott is eventually rewarded with, though it's still sleepy, still low.
Isaac's arms are loose enough around him that he's able to move his body carefully, turn himself around so that he's facing Isaac instead of speaking over his shoulder. Isaac's eyes are still closed, and he doesn't seem all that bothered by the change of position, just pulls Scott in closer when he resettles himself, holding him like something sacred. Scott presses his face against Isaac's neck, smiles against the skin there, and Isaac nuzzles him slightly, clearly slipping back into unconsciousness.
"Why are you in my bed?"
Isaac freezes up. He pulls away like he's been burned, and his eyes are wide open now, though he blinks hard a few times to try and wake himself up. Scott regrets it, a little bit, because it hadn't been an accusation or a criticism, just a question, and an amused one at that. Isaac's jaw is wired tightly shut, but one of his arms is still bent and pillowed underneath Scott's head, so Scott doesn't move, choosing instead to smile reassuringly.
Isaac swallows. "I'm really sorry." he says, almost whispers, like he's committed some grave sin. "I didn't mean -- I think I must have gotten up in the middle of the night, I didn't know, I had this dream about my --"
"I don't mind." Scott tells him calmly. This effectively shuts Isaac up, so Scott takes the opportunity to pull him back in, relax him from his state of sudden awareness. Some of the tension seeps out of Isaac's shoulders, but he's still apprehensive.
"You don't?" he asks. He sounds skeptical, a little bit scared, and if he won't move any closer to Scott, then Scott's just going to have move closer to him. He burrows closer to Isaac until he's in his previous position, with his face pressed against Isaac's neck, and he can hear Isaac gasp slightly above him. Those long limbs wrap around him tentatively, pulling them so they're chest to chest, two heartbeats felt in the dark.
Scott hums. "You're warm." he says, and it's only partly a joke. He kisses Isaac's throat, hears his breath hitch, repeats, "I don't mind," before moving up and kissing the line of his jaw, his chin. Each time he does it, Isaac's arms get tighter, more insistent, and his eyes slide shut, basking in it. Scott kisses his cheek and his nose and his forehead, softly and slowly, taking his time everywhere, and murmurs it again, "I don't mind" quietly into Isaac's mouth as he kisses him there, too.
Isaac exhales shakily, kisses Scott back like he's afraid of breaking something. When Scott pulls away, he says, "We'll talk about this tomorrow," in a way that he hopes comforts Isaac and lets him rest. He pulls himself close to Isaac and feels the steady way his breathing slows down into a deep, automatic swell, and he smiles into that comfortable warmth.
He asks Isaac the next morning if he had any dreams.
"If I did," Isaac replies with a gentle smile, pressing their foreheads together, "I don't remember them."