Work Text:
(Cross Posted at LJ)
“Mr. Lahey, please stop right this second!"
"Mr. Lah- Isaac!”
There were a very few things out there that could make a classroom full of teenagers to pull their hunched backs straight up and in complete unison, give attention to what was going around them. A student storming out of the class, with a furious teacher on his tail was one of those sights nobody in the entire Beacon Hills High would want to miss. The whole of Mr. McCall’s second period Biology class snickered and burst into undisguised laughter.
The young teacher hurried only so far as the door, in trail of Lahey, when he remembered that he couldn’t exactly leave his class without any sort of explanation or instruction. So he hastily turned around, and said:
“I – I have to - ;” He nodded meaningfully at the door, and rushed out after his most notorious student.
Of course, the class broke into another round of laughter.
Half an hour later, a very exhausted Scott McCall, found himself in the Principal’s Office, facing a very nettled Mr. Finstock.
“For heaven’s sake, McCall!” said the fifty-something man, his unkempt hair flying in every direction as yelled at the newest arrival to his staff, “You do not run after a student. You hear me? You do not. I don’t pay you for playing tag in the school corridors. Jesus, I can’t believe you did that.”
“But – but, Mr. Finstock he was disrespecting me, and trying to skip –”
The Principal glared at him, even more and cut him off before he could finish the sentence.
“McCall, you won’t get any respect, of any kind or form if you run after a student in the middle of a period! You get it? You won’t get any.”
Scott wasn’t sure if a school’s Principal was supposed to talk like that. He scrunched up his face, frustrated and feeling a little helpless.
“What am I supposed to do? His grades are so pathetic, and he’s failing almost all his classes,” Scott turned away from the fuming man and talked more to himself than to him, “He’s smart and he’s talented. If only he would pull himself together a little and pay attention and –”
“Jesus, McCall, you are not his mother! I highly appreciate the concern for his education but do try to keep it inside the class, and you are going to start acting like the teacher you are – you hear me McCall? A teacher, or so help me god, I’m going to be doing something really drastic like kicking your sorry ass out of this school so bad that you will fall ten miles out of Beacon Hills.”
Scott really wasn’t sure if a High School Principal was supposed to talk like that.
“Fine,” said Scott, sulkily left to finish his lecture on frog’s anatomy.
Isaac Lahey hated his biology teacher. He was so weird. It was weird to even think of him as a teacher. Forget teacher, that lump of tanned flesh and ball of boisterous mess, couldn’t even be considered an adult. He was so loud, and all over the place. Couldn’t he just pull himself together for once? Calling him a teacher was an embarrassment to the entire student community.
Isaac was so involved in his inner-rant, that he didn’t realize where his legs were taking him. And, the guidance counselor’s office, found one tall blond glaring daggers at its door.
“Really, Lahey?” Isaac chided himself, “The shrink’s office?”
Isaac hated shrinks and their dubious methods of ‘getting to know’ the students, just like he hated overly loud, childish teachers.
Deaton greeted Isaac with a knowing smile as he stepped inside the office, as if the man had been expecting him. That, of course, did not make the blond feel any comfortable. But he deposited himself in the nearest couch, anyway, letting out a frustrated growl. He kicked up his legs over the counselor’s table and leaned back to get comfortable. The office smelled like some rare flower with a name that was probably difficult to pronounce. Deaton’s office always smelled like something. But if it was meant to put the visitors at ease, it never did its job well.
“Not only do I get kicked out of my home after my abusive father goes and dies over me,” spoke Isaac after a minute of
heavy breathing, “ and not to mention I get dumped by a maniacal psychopath who was probably also a pedophile –”
“Derek is only eighteen, Isaac,” Deaton pointed out, patiently.
“It doesn’t matter. He dumped me. That is all that matters. And anyway, I get abused, orphaned, kicked out, dumped and on top of everything there’s this – ugh – is trying to tell me that I need to get my grades back up. I mean, does he even know what I am going through? What’s his problem anyway? I hate him, I swear –”
“I am assuming that this is Mr. McCall, we are discussing here,” said the guidance counselor, although he seemed to
have no doubts regarding what this unscheduled session was about, if his smile was anything to go by.
“Yes. Of course, it’s that oblivious nut-head I’m talking about.”
If the older man found offence in name-calling a teacher, he did not make it known to the fuming student. Instead, he said evenly, “I don’t think you hate him, Isaac. You wouldn’t have gone to him, asking for a place to stay, if you had such feelings for him you say you do.”
That put the sour teenager even more off.
“Don’t remind me of that, Deaton,” said Isaac, his lips forming a deep scowl, “The day someone finds out that I’m sharing a roof with him, god – the embarrassment I’d have to face.”
Isaac put his legs down from the table, and stood up abruptly. He started pacing the room, shaking his head like he was trying to shrug off some disturbing thoughts. The counselor picked up on the agitation waving off from the teen, readily and frowned at the blond.
“I do understand, Isaac, that asking a favor from one of the faculty members might be a little inconvenient to you. But why should it be embarrassing? After all you have known the McCall family, long enough.”
Isaac looked a little stricken at that, as if it hadn’t occurred to him, not to be embarrassed.
“I- He – It’s,” he stammered after a minute of thinking, “Well, it’s because it’s Scott McCall.”
“And what about him?” asked the counselor, his tone a little pressing, now.
“I hate that guy,” said the teenager, his voice taking a petulant tone this time.
“You don’t hate him, Isaac,” the older man repeated, raising an eyebrow, exasperatedly.
“He makes me uncomfortable, alright?” Isaac said defiantly, his eyes flashing with unwarranted ire.
And before the counselor could say anything more, the tall teen rushed out of the office.
“Mom?” hollered Scott, before he had properly even stepped inside his house. “Mom, are you there?”
Melissa McCall had retired from her job at the Beacon Hill Hospital as soon as her son had taken up his at Beacon Hill High. She had had enough of the emergency wards, long nights and Chinese take-outs. She had been busy in the kitchen, preparing dinner for her son, a custom which was still very new to the McCall household. And she didn’t mind all that much that now there had been a recent addition to the members of the said household.
“Scott! How many times have I told you not to yell standing at the door?” asked Melissa, her voice rising to match that of her son’s, automatically.
Scott trudged into the kitchen, distracted only a moment by the delicious varieties of aroma that was coming from the counter.
“Mom, is Isaac here already?” Scott asked.
Melissa made a show of rolling her eyes and went back to work at the counter.
“No, Scott,” said, Melissa, “I thought he had Lacrosse practice? I thought you had Lacrosse practice.” She frowned at that. “Scott, you have to take this job seriously. Mr. Finstock won’t be pleased if he found out that you were slacking, especially not the ‘coaching the winning team’ part. It was his job once, remember? He will feel personally responsible if you fail at it.”
Any other time, those words about Mr. Finstock would have been terrifying to hear. But at the moment, Scott had bigger worries in his mind.
“I know that mom,” he said hastily, his voice rising with each and every word he said “Isaac’s been missing since morning. He skipped school and I couldn’t go out until after school got over to look for him! And I can’t find him anywhere!”
Melissa stopped whatever she was doing and cleaned her hand in a towel. A worried look was plastered on her face as she came to her son’s side and said, “Have you tried his phone?”
Scott made a face and said, “Mom, I’m not that stupid. It’s switched off.”
“Have you tried his old place?”
“I have.”
“The Stilinski’s place?”
“Yes.”
“How about that kid – Hale –”
“Derek Hale was in school,” Scott growled unnecessarily, “Isaac doesn’t have the key to his house anymore.”
Melissa raised her hands, made an exasperated face and turned back her back to Scott, attending to dinner.
“May be, Scott, he just needs some time off.”
Scott snorted loudly, tramping all over the kitchen floor, his strides quick and agitated.
“Time off from what? He’s been slacking so much at school already and – ”
“No, no,” Melissa shook her head, giving her son a stern look “Time off from you, Scott.”
That stung Scott a little too much than he would have liked to admit. When he walked up to his bedroom, loosening his tie and getting out of his button-up shirt, he had one more person on his mind to silently curse at – his mom.
When Isaac did finally return home, Scott was already asleep.
The blond teenager, stood at the door of the older man’s bedroom, looking forlorn and a little guilty. Melissa, being the light sleeper she was, woken up as soon as Isaac stepped inside the house with the spare key he had been given. The teen had been more than a little surprised when the lights went on suddenly and in the middle of the living room stood Mrs. McCall glaring at him, with both her hands on her hip.
That had been twenty minutes back and Isaac was sure, nobody had made him feel sorrier in his life.
Isaac stepped into the room as silently as he could and after letting out a sigh, sat on the bed. Scott, in his sleep, frowned and scooted closer to his pillow.
‘A twenty-five year old man isn’t supposed to look that cute’, thought Isaac, his mind running miles and heart beat speeding up, ‘Or handsome. Or seductive. Especially if he is a man, AND your teacher.’ Isaac couldn’t understand the whirlwind of emotions that attacked him whenever this head-strong man was near him. He couldn't get a hold of it, he couldn’t control it and he couldn’t even predict it.
He raised his fingers to smoothen the frown on Scott’s forehead.
No sooner had his finger made contact with the older man’s skin, Isaac found himself to be at the receiving end of two very angry golden-brown eyes.
The blond let out a yelp has he was pulled forward by his wrist and was made to fall awkwardly on the older man. McCall still managed to look him in the eye and convey his displeasure through a long glare. When the Isaac thought that, that was that and then, he could go and sleep in his own bedroom, he found himself being flipped, with the older man on top of him.
“You have no idea, just how angry I am with you,” growled Scott, tightening his grip on the blond’s hands.
Isaac couldn't even begin to explain what he was feeling. Even to himself. He was being flooded with so many emotions at that very moment, that he chose the one that was most familiar to him to concentrate on.
“I don’t care,” Isaac grunted as defiantly as he could. He found that the older man’s hold was strong and he couldn’t move much, even if he wanted to. That didn't set him off as much as it should have. On the contrary, he felt his body relax of its own accord.
Scott was frowning so much that his eyebrows were almost touching each other.
“I was so worried, you know,” said Scott, after a minute of glaring match. He let out a long sigh and leaned his head on the blond’s shoulder. “You are such a pain in the ass. Yeah. That you are,” Scott nodded to himself.
With the close proximity, Isaac couldn't help but breathe in all that was Scott McCall. The smell of musk, and some spice, the name of which the blond couldn't bother to recall right then. It was intoxicating and his nether region started to act up. This was his biology teacher of heaven's sake. The nerdy, spazzy, goofball, who was sometimes more immature than the students he taught.
But the tight grip and Scott’s sleepy growls insipred very different reactions out of the blond teen.
“Why do you never listen to me?” Scott continued, his eyes still looking Isaac straight in the eye, “Don’t you trust me? Don’t you trust me to take care of you?”
Isaac knew the answer to that, of course.
“I do trust you,” he said.
Scott pulled back at that, his face inquisitive and the frown lessening a little.
“Then why? Why do you…?”
Isaac could hear the unspoken question: Why do you runaway? Why do you not accept me? Why do you shrug me off? Why do you not like it when I care?
Isaac wished he brave enough to answer that question.
But he wasn't.
He was not ready to tell the man, he was too scared to lose him – just like he had lost everyone in his life. Especially, not him.
So he turned his head away, unable to look the man in the eye.
“I don’t know.”
Scott didn't say anything for a while. He simply looked at him, his searing gaze trying to penetrate the thick walls that Isaac was so famous for building around himself. Isaac let him look, feeling oddly content at that. The teen could feel the warmth of older man’s breath on his neck and he could smell his scent. The only thing he could hear, though, was his own heartbeat, thudding loudly in his ears.
And then, suddenly, the blond felt his hair being tugged and his chin being nudged and before he could even process what was going on, Scott was kissing him.
Not surprisingly, he found himself kissing back.
A/N: Woot! It's been forever since I wrote anything. Damn, it feels good to be shipping again. :)
Please leave reviews, love.