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Isaac isn’t in the mood to run futile errands for Derek, but as his Alpha wants him to pass on a message he doesn’t have much choice in the matter. Derek isn’t pleased, to put it politely, that Lydia’s seeing Aiden and somehow the hopeless task of informing her has fallen to him. Isaac has only ever actively approached the ‘Queen Bee’ once before, and that was an epic disaster. By some means his freshman self had plucked up enough courage to ask her out, simply to be efficiently put down with a cruel laugh and her claim to come back when the bike he rode to school had an engine, not a chain.
He wonders why they have chosen Lydia as he trails down one of the corridors in Beacon Hills High School. Sure the Alpha pack want Scott’s attention but isn’t Allison the obvious way to achieve it. Isaac can’t help but remember the misplaced look of jealously on Scott’s face though, as Aiden had openly flirted with Beacon Hill’s self-appointed princess. He notes it away as something to ask Scott about next time he sees him, because there’s definitely more going on there. It seems Lydia isn’t such a surprising choice after all, because that’s without even mentioning how Stiles follows her around like a lost puppy and hangs onto her every word like the secrets of the universe flow from her mouth.
Isaac inhales deeply again and mindlessly continues following her scent; it’s sweet, musky and something unique that he can’t place but is so obviously Lydia Martin. She smells intoxicating, like the exquisite, expensive perfume she favours. It’s not a well kept secret that he finds the strawberry-blonde infuriating. It is, however, a much better kept secret that he’s still attracted to her, very attracted if the ease with which he can pick out her scent means anything.
Rounding a corner he finds himself outside the classroom where her scent is the most heavily concentrated and promptly realises there are two other scents mingling with her natural odour. They would be: the heady scent of arousal and the stench of an alpha. Of course, he happens to stumble on Lydia and Aiden together. Isaac needs to find a way to separate them without resorting to physically tearing Aiden off of her and a way to reign in his jealously, apparently.
He knows that encountering Lydia will test his control. She has effortlessly perfected the art of getting under his skin, from her flawless curls and meticulously painted lips to the way she holds court in the hallways of a high school, she’s everything that a boy like him will never have and she makes that point crystal clear.
Impulsively he pulls the fire alarm that is taunting him from its spot on the wall. Isaac waits until Aiden stalks out the room, haphazardly pulling his top down as he leaves. Isaac barely manages to suppress a growl. By the time Lydia opens the door, he’s already there quickly filling the doorframe and blocking her exit.
“Is there a problem?” she asks bluntly, glancing up at him because even in her barely-suitable-for-school-heels he still towers over her petite frame.
“Derek would like me to kindly ask you to stop seeing Aiden,” he explains, optimistically hoping that she realises they’re only trying to keep her safe.
"I'm sorry," she replies in that special sugary sweet tone, the one with only the tiniest undercurrent of venom, the one that crushes any hope of optimism. "I forgot that we have such a loving friendship, and of course I’m undoubtedly going to bend over backwards to please you and Derek. Or am I misremembering the murder attempt? So just to clarify, is it only Aiden that’s the problem or are all werewolves off the table?”
For a few heartbeats he just stands there, blue eyes bearing down onto green ones. He honestly can’t say he’d expected that, but then again Lydia is always full of surprises.
“Just the ones that are trying to kill us, and not just off the table but against walls and anywhere else that takes your fancy, your preferences seem quite extensive,” he bites back sourly, regaining his wit before pressing on with the conversation. Lydia is renowned for her verbal sparring matches, so she should appreciate the banter. “More to the point it’s not just for me and Derek, but you already know that. It’s for Scott, Stiles and Allison because they care about you, they worry about you.”
“Isaac,” she folds her arms across her chest and takes a tentative step towards him and pulling her full lower lip between her teeth, “my last boyfriend was a homicidal lizard, so I think I can handle a werewolf. Besides since the only person who ever really told me what was going on was the psychotic murderer living inside my head, I honestly can’t take their concern too seriously, can I?”
“I told Derek you’d be this unreasonable, why he thought that this was a good idea is beyond me,” he mutters mostly to himself, but he pauses when he hears a small murmur of agreement from the redhead who was now invading his personal space. He rapidly decides to change his tactics. “You have no idea what they're capable of, so please just find yourself a new boyfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend; he’s my... distraction. He’s a really good distraction. I deserve a little bit of fun. Now I’m finished with this conversation, surely you of all people can hear the fire alarm,” she says brusquely, flattening her palm against his chest in an attempt to push him back.
He grips her wrist, pulling her hand from his chest, but not letting go. He looks down at her fragile wrist wrapped in his strong fingers and he squeezes a bit harder feeling her pulse accelerate; he could snap her human bones like dry twigs if he desired. Lydia may act fearless and hide her emotions behind a well-placed mask of popularity but for a second he catches a glimpse of how small, damaged and breakable she really is. He might hide away from his problems by pretending to be nobody, but she hides from her problems by pretending to be someone else entirely. Appalled for letting his control slip so easily, he drops her wrist.
"Do they teach you all some kind of class in manhandling when they bite you?" she questions, subconsciously rubbing the red skin with her other hand. “Or is it a requirement?"
“I’m sorry Lydia. I didn’t mean to, I just...” he doesn’t get a chance to explain that sometimes he still has trouble controlling his wolfish urges, especially around her, and that actually feeling her pulse was like a drug to him.
Lydia interrupts, with a nonchalant wave of her hand, “Whatever, if it bruises you can explain to Aiden what happened because I don’t have time to deal with your petty macho werewolf squabbles. Now I’m not asking again, let me leave.”
He steps aside wordlessly and she brushes past him, icily glancing up into his eyes before haughtily walking away, the noise of her heels echoing down the deserted hallway.
“That went well,” Isaac declares, shrugging off his jacket while striding into Derek’s loft. “Remind me never again to follow instructions from you.”
“What went well?” Derek replies, from his stance on the silver, spiral of stairs.
“My chat with the charming Lydia Martin, of course,” he says voice laced with sarcasm. “Apparently she doesn’t take kindly to people telling her what to do and a quote from the devil’s mouths herself ‘I think I can handle a werewolf’, she really is deluded.”
That irritates Derek enough to spark a reaction. "She might be able to handle a werewolf but not an alpha. What if he kills her? Has she thought of that?" he bellows, jumping from his spot on the staircase and landing directly in front of his beta.
“Do you think I don’t know that?” Isaac’s voice rises unintentionally to match Derek’s and then he lets out a languid sigh. “I think for the first time in her life, maybe she isn’t thinking at all.”
“I don’t care what she is or isn’t thinking. You will get her to stop seeing him because I have enough to cope with without involving myself in the love life of a teenage girl,” seethes Derek.
“How exactly am I going to manage that?”
“She’s five foot nothing and probably weighs about one hundred pounds; tie her up somewhere and keep her there until she sees sense for all I care.”
“Have you ever actually met Lydia?” Isaac asks, actually a little bit curious.
“Only once before. She rendered me unconscious and used me to resurrect my uncle, so Lydia is someone I’d rather not have to deal with unless it’s strictly necessary.”
Derek’s annoyance at admitting that Lydia bested him is obvious, Isaac doesn’t press the issue.
“Well I do sort of have an idea but it’s a long-shot and potentially quite stupid. I’m not even sure it’ll work,” he says frankly.
“What are you thinking Isaac?” questions Derek.
“The alphas are coming tonight right? What if Lydia is here as well, seeing Aiden to try to kill us should be enough to put her off?” the uncertainty is clear in his voice, he’d rather not drag Lydia any further into this but she is already involved and she deserves to know who Aiden really is. There’s a small part of him, okay quite a large part honestly, that hopes she’ll finally notice him if Aiden’s no longer in the picture.
“That’s what you’re going with; seriously, potentially quite stupid is an understatement,” Derek looks as though he’s about to laugh, then defeat flashes over his face and he huffs, “fine but you will watch her, keep her out the way and keep her quiet.”
“I guess I’ll call Scott then and get Stiles or someone to bring her over,” Isaac says hesitantly, drawing his phone out of a pocket and scrolling through his contacts.
Even in the midst of all the chaos, Isaac pinpoints the precise moment that Lydia breezes into the loft, her tiny hands smoothing down the front of her floral skirt impulsively. She looks out of place; her pristine appearance a harsh contrast with the blandness surrounding her. He notices that Stiles and Cora aren’t far behind her and watches as the three of them glance around, taking in the pandemonium being caused by the alpha pack.
Derek is being held down in the centre of the apartment, with his arms stretched wide and claws extended, by Aiden and Ethan. While Kali is struggling to keep her grip on Boyd, yet she still manages to hold him above Derek.
Isaac’s mind drags him back to the night at the motel and reminds him that Lydia is stronger-willed than people care to think, but he still can’t fight the urge to want to protect her from this. He remembers her finding him beneath the motel bed, absent-mindedly thinking that he never thanked her as a movement just outside his peripheral vision snaps him back to the loft.
Isaac’s gaze falls on Lydia standing rigidly inside the doorway, her purse dropping to the ground. Her eyes widen, a look of horror etched onto her normally delicate features and he sees tears well up in her emerald green eyes. He hastily makes his way across the room as the tears began to silently fall down her cheeks, marring her porcelain skin with streaks of mascara. He frowns as she briefly locks eyes with Aiden and shifts to stand protectively in front of her, hoping to shield her from what is inevitably about to happen.
He hasn’t done enough and her scream breaks the silence as Derek is forced to stab Boyd. Isaac instinctively pulls Lydia’s face against his shoulder forcing her not to look and her arms wrap tightly around his middle in response, pulling herself impossibly close to him. He never meant for her to see this, it wasn’t meant to have gone this wrong. They should have been able to overpower the alpha pack and Boyd was still meant to be breathing.
Isaac stands rooted to the floor not daring to move his eyes, now swimming with tears, away from the alphas. The dull echoes of their footsteps as they make a swift exit are amplified by the silence that has fallen again. He growls lowly in warning as Aiden and Ethan move past them, tightening his grip on Lydia and rubbing soothing circles on her lower back with the hand that isn’t entangled in her vibrant curls.
His eyes fall shut and he basks in the comfort of Lydia being wrapped so tightly around him, she’s pressed so closely against his chest that he can feel her heart hammering wildly. He tries in vain to count the beats as a distraction, but he can’t focus properly. Isaac lowers his chin to rest on the top of her head, distantly realising that she fits perfectly against him, her hair smells of lavender. He almost laughs, lavender known for its calming and soothing properties, aromatherapy certainly wasn’t going to help at the moment.
Isaac doesn’t know how much time passes before he finally opens his eyes to see Cora collapsed by the side of Boyd’s body. Derek is close by with his head buried deep in his hands and Stiles is nowhere to be seen.
“I’ll take you home,” he murmurs quietly to Lydia, his words mostly muffled by her hair. “Let me go grab Derek’s keys quickly. I’ll be right back, will you be okay?” He carefully untangles his fingers from her tresses and reluctantly relinquishes the firm grasp he had on her. Isaac takes a step back looking at her quizzically and waits until she nods her head shakily, red curls bouncing from the tiny movement.
Isaac quickly locates the keys to Derek’s Camaro, not bothering to ask his permission given the circumstances. With his hand once again on the small of her back and only a little push of encouragement, he manages to guide her away from the sombre scene and downstairs to where the glossy black car is parked. Overcome by a sudden bout of chivalry, he makes his way around the car and opens the passenger door for Lydia, who is still stunned into silence, as she slips into the leather seat.
Isaac starts the engine; he’s doesn’t know what is appropriate to say and settles for nothing. He glances over at Lydia, who’s digging her perfectly-filed nails into the tops of her thighs leaving behind deep half-moon crescents. He realises it’s probably the first time she’s witnessed a person die, aside from Jackson who was saved and it’s evident that Boyd won’t be as lucky.
They just sit there for a while, Lydia maiming her legs and Isaac slumped over the steering wheel as they allow it all to sink in. He idly realises that she is crying again, did she ever stop and needs to do something before he joins and makes himself useless. So he drives and he manages to keep his emotions in check all the way to Lydia’s ostentatious house.
He manoeuvres the car to the side of the road once again and cuts the engine.
"I'm sorry," she whispers, over and over again. "I'm so sorry Isaac, I'm so sorry," she chokes the words out between sobs. He barely notices when she leans over and continues crying her apologies into his broad shoulder and his arm had snakes around waist.
Eventually Isaac releases his hold on her waist and she leans back into her seat. His eyes flick to hers and he is suddenly very aware that he still hasn’t said anything. The pause is poignant until he reassures her, “there wasn’t anything we could have done differently.”
This time as she leans over to the driver’s seat, he is focused entirely on her and the feel of her soft lips as they press a chaste kiss to his cheek. She nuzzles her face into the crook of his neck, her face feels damp but he’s convinced that she’s stopped crying and she places another kiss where his neck joins his shoulder before she pulls away once more.
Before he can stop himself Isaac’s cupping the back of her head and urgently crushing his lips against hers. Her lips are soft and welcoming underneath his and as her hands curl around the hair at the nape of his neck, he runs a thumb down her cheek, cradling her face with his hand. The kiss is slow, bordering on lazy but perfect nonetheless. Isaac deepens the kiss and Lydia makes sinful little mewls in return. Her hands leave his neck in favour of running down his back and slipping under his shirt to scratch her nails up his skin. Begrudgingly he realises they’re both overwhelmed by grief and he reluctantly pulls away, resting his forehead gently against hers.
Lydia says nothing else but flashes him a half-smile as she opens her door. He watches as she walks up to front door, glancing back over her shoulder as she fishes the keys out her purse and lets herself inside. He doesn’t drive away until he sees her bedroom light come on and watches her silhouette as she draws the curtains. Isaac knows Lydia won’t be seeing Aiden anymore.