This was supposed to be a cute little drabble about dumb boys being dumb and adorable but Isaac has a lot of feelings and it sort of got out of hand... oops? Inspired by a certain 1D interview from forever ago in which an accidental kiss was mentioned. I REGRET NOTHING :D

Title from JT's "Mirrors" because I'm a shameless fangirl.

Also, I own absolutely nada.

This first time it happens it's an accident. No, seriously, like, an honest-to-god, I-am-so-so-sorry-I-didn't-mean-to-do-that-are-you- okay kind of accident.

It's late August and they're repainting the kitchen cabinets because why not, Melissa mentioned it in passing last week but she's always too tired from work to actually do it, and Scott and Isaac need a distraction, so.

It's been almost a month since Jackson left for London and it's not like they keep in touch, Stiles said that not even Lydia has talked to him since then, but Scott's saying that he hopes Jackson is happy there, or at least happier than he was in Beacon Hills, he's probably settled in by now, after all it's been almost a month, maybe he even speaks with an accent because, well, he's Jackson and he's ridiculous, and also it's been a month already.

Isaac has no doubt that Scott genuinely cares about Jackson's wellbeing, but he can't pretend he doesn't know that what Scott really means is almost four months since I last talked to Allison.

And that's a can of worms Isaac doesn't plan on opening, especially since Scott's been doing so much better lately, only mentioning her name about three or four times a day.

So they keep talking about Jackson, Isaac agreeing with everything Scott is saying while secretly thinking good riddance – and no, he's not being an asshole, he just has very valid reasons not to like Jackson, okay?

But of course karma has to come back and bite him in the ass almost straight away, his feet getting tangled in the plastic drop cloth they'd laid over the floor that morning.

Isaac tries to regain his balance by grabbing whatever solid surface is closest to him, which happens to be Scott's shoulder, and that, predictably, turns out to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad idea.

He sees it happening in his head first and tries to prevent it from actually happening, because, yeah, okay, that's definitely going to hurt, except gravity has other plans and apparently their werewolf reflexes are taking a nap, so they end up on the floor, Isaac sprawled on top of Scott, foreheads knocking together, noses bumping, teeth clashing, an all-around disaster.

And that – that's –

Those are Scott's lips, right beneath Isaac's, a bit chapped because there are a billion degrees outside, and Isaac is so shocked by the sensation that he panics and bites down, hard, realizing two seconds too late that he probably shouldn't have.

"Dude!" Scott gasps suddenly, and that's when Isaac decides he's going to crawl into a hole and stay there for a decade or two or until the zombie apocalypse happens.

But then Scott is laughing, pushing at Isaac's shoulder with one hand, bringing the other to his lips, shaking his head slowly. He doesn't look upset but that doesn't stop the apologies from spilling out of Isaac's mouth.

He is sorry, he really is, hurting Scott in any way, shape or form is at the very top of his Things-I-Never-Ever-Want-To-Do list, because Scott is wonderful and Isaac's friend, best friend actually, but Isaac probably just fucked that up because he still doesn't know how to control his stupidly long limbs and apparently his lips, too.

It takes Scott more than ten minutes to calm Isaac down but eventually he does, and then Isaac's sitting at table, glass of water in hand, his face giving the tomatoes in the fridge a run for their money. He hates everything.

"So," Scott says after a while, clearly holding back a grin, "biting, huh? That's what you're into?" And he wiggles his eyebrows so ridiculously that Isaac can't help but laugh out loud.

Yeah, it's okay. They're okay.

"How the hell should I know, I've never kissed anyone before," Isaac admits and instantly wishes he hadn't because, well, he's almost seventeen so that's a bit embarrassing, and also because Scott looks – sad?

Um?

"Dude! Come the fuck on, are you seriously saying I just ruined your first kiss?"

Oh.

Oh. No!

Isaac wants to tell him that he most definitely didn't ruin anything, he's Scott, he fixes what's broken, that's what he does, not – no no no, it's fine, seriously, Isaac really, really doesn't mind, and oh God, that actually was his first kiss.

But Isaac is not, in fact, a twelve year old with a crush, he still has a bit of dignity left, so instead he just shrugs and says, "'M not sure that really counts as a kiss."

Scott frowns a bit, seems to be turning Isaac's words over in his head, and then nods smiling.

"Okay. Yeah, okay, you're right. Until there's tongue involved, you're still a kissing virgin."

And no, Isaac does not facepalm or blush harder at that. He just looks at the cabinets that are now a rich chocolate brown, a color Scott let him choose because Isaac said it looked stylish.

It still does, but now Isaac realizes that's also the exact same color of Scott's eyes and he sort of wants to punch himself in the face.

He hopes Melissa won't ask him if he has a thing for her son's eyes.

The second time it happens it's Stiles' fault.

They're in the school parking lot waiting for Stiles to arrive, which means that they're definitely going to be late for class. Stiles texted Scott earlier to say he'd found something useful about the Darach and that they had to meet before class, except the bell is going to ring any moment now and Stiles' Jeep is still nowhere in sight.

Isaac is sitting on Scott's bike so that Scott doesn't have to look up at him all the time – he's being nice, okay? It's not Scott's fault that Isaac is a giant – trying to focus on his breathing to bring his heart rate down.

If Scott's proud grin is anything to by, it's working.

They've been doing this for a few weeks now, Scott telling Isaac to think about something that makes him nervous and then teaching him how to control his breathing to make it seem like he's perfectly composed. It's a pretty damn good idea considering that nowadays there's an intimidating Alpha around every corner and Isaac absolutely refuses to give them the satisfaction of knowing that, yeah, okay, he's terrified of them.

Also, he managed to lie to Derek once. Yeah.

But lately it seems that what makes Isaac nervous is Scott smiling at him, Scott leaning in too close to whisper in his ear, Scott's warm hand on his shoulder; just – Scott in general. Which is confusing. And a bit of an issue.

Because Isaac having good things? Not something that happens very often. And Scott is probably – no, definitely – the best thing he's had after Cam died and dad –

Well.

The point is he likes Scott. As a friend. A lot. And he would really prefer it if he didn't lose Scott because he's, like, going through a phase and his hormones are all over the place or something.

Because Scott is pretty amazing, he's kind and protective and looks after Isaac in a way that not even Derek does. He actually cares about what's happening to Isaac and that – actually, that might be an issue too, because at some point Scott will notice that Isaac is being weird around him, and how – how is Isaac supposed to explain that what he feels is gratitude and affection but he's a teenage boy and sometimes feelings get mixed up and maybe Scott's lopsided smile is the reason why Isaac's heart starts dancing flamenco every now and then.

"That was really good. It didn't take you so long this time. You're getting good at it."

Isaac looks up to see Scott still beaming like a proud parent at him and he doesn't even bother trying to hide his own grin; it would be a futile attempt, he knows.

He hears the now familiar screech of tires against the pavement and soon after the clack-clack-clack of heels on the concrete – hi, Lydia – but Isaac's brain is mush right now and he keeps looking into Scott's eyes even as he hears Stiles running towards them. It's not his best idea ever.

Stiles being Stiles somehow manages to stumble over his own feet and into Scott, pushing him forward into Isaac's arms and Isaac instinctively grabs the collar of his jacket, trying to stop Scott from falling. Except there's the part where he already was looking up at Scott and Scott was looking down at him, and their lips brush for a brief second before Scott bumps his head on Isaac's chin.

For fuck's sake, seriously?

He's – he's actually going to kill Stiles this time, he really is.

"Ah, crap. Sorry, dude, I – "

"It's okay, we're good, s'all good," Scott says quickly with a sheepish smile, then looks back at Isaac, mouths sorry and gives him this please-don't-murder-my-idiot-best-friend-I-really- really-love-and-need-him look.

And Isaac sighs, defeated, cheeks flaming red; not because he actually wanted to hurt Stiles, but because he's not entirely sure he remembers how to say no to Scott. Or if he's ever been able to do that in the first place.

Stiles starts saying something about the Darach and, right, that's what they're all here for, this is important, Isaac should be paying attention.

But he can't, because Lydia's inquisitive green eyes are boring holes through him and he needs her to stop doing that, like, right now.

To make things worse she gives him this look, like she just figured out something he has yet to understand and suddenly Isaac feels very small, wants to run away and hide somewhere, anywhere. He's not picky, honestly.

Scott is talking to Stiles, and Isaac wonders if he remembers. Not like it matters, but.

Whatever.

Once is an accident, twice is coincidence.

It's still okay.

It's Melissa who tells him that Scott is ticklish. And judging by the look on her face afterwards, she probably never intended to say the words, they just slipped out of her mouth.

"It's, um – it's something his dad used to do," she says as she begins to clear the table, Isaac helping her.

Scott is vacuuming the carpets upstairs, so for once Isaac doesn't have to worry about werewolf super hearing. That is, if Melissa decides to tell him more. Isaac totally understands if she doesn't want to talk about it.

"He used to pick him up," she starts again, putting the dirty dishes in the sink, "spin him around the room and tickle his sides. And Scott, he – he would squeal and giggle and laugh till he had tears in his eyes. He was happy. We all were."

She doesn't sound sad, Isaac realizes. More like resigned and maybe there's an underlying note of something grey and bittersweet in her voice, something like wistfulness, but she isn't unhappy. Not exactly.

"I just – it wasn't always bad, you know?" she asks looking at him with warm brown eyes and Isaac nods because yes, he understands, he understands perfectly, he really does. "And we're better off without him, believe me, we are, but sometimes I can't help but feel guilty that Scott had to miss the good parts too."

And – oh. That. That – no.

Isaac starts shaking his head, knows what he's supposed to say but he simply can't, the words stuck in his throat like bile-flavored bubblegum. That's not how Scott feels, he loves his mom, absolutely adores her, admires her, is so proud of her, he would never –

"Isaac." Melissa puts her hand on top of his, smiling softly. "I know he doesn't blame me, sweetheart, I know he doesn't."

And Isaac is torn between nodding and shaking his head, because yes, that's what he meant, and no, Scott most definitely doesn't blame her.

He doesn't say anything though, because Scott is done vacuuming and Isaac knows that Scott hearing this conversation would only lead to him feeling guiltier and nope, Isaac won't let that happen. Scott doesn't need another thing that is not his fault to feel guilty about.

So Isaac does the only thing he can, gives Melissa his most genuine smile and hopes she understands what he's trying to convey.

He goes upstairs to find Scott sprawled out on the carpet in his bedroom, happy little smile dancing on his lips, his heartbeat steady.

Isaac's heart on the other hand does a funny little flip, drops into his stomach and then jumps into his throat. It's something he's still learning to get used to, the fact that sometimes he needs to remind himself to breathe when he's looking at Scott.

Breathe. He can handle this. Just – deep breaths.

"Right," he says as he lies down next to Scott, trying to act cool and unaffected, "because you don't have a bed. Or a chair. Or, you know, a windowsill you could sit on if – "

"Shhh, the carpet's clean now, Lahey. Let me reap the rewards of my hard work, will you?"

And Isaac has to bite his lips to stop himself from grinning like an idiot.

He's starting to like it, he supposes, this feeling he gets whenever he sees Scott smile, like champagne bubbles inside his chest, golden and honey-slow and full of joy. It isn't scary anymore. Still confusing, yes, but Isaac knows he's going to figure it out someday. Soon. He's going to find a name for that feeling. He's going to –

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

Well. Shit.

Isaac wonders how long it would take for Scott to catch him if he tried to fling himself out the window.

So he still panics sometimes, okay? He's allowed to, he's never been in –

He's never felt these things before. Yeah. So. Panicking. Still happens.

But he's spent enough time around Derek to know how to play it cool even when he feels like dying from awkwardness.

So he grins, uses his most confident voice to say, "This is how I look at puppies. You're a puppy."

And then he realizes how ridiculous he sounds.

Scott starts laughing, loud and unabashed – at Isaac, obviously, which Isaac pretends to take offense at because it gives him an excuse to run his fingers down Scott's sides, poking incessantly and Scott –

Scott, the true Alpha, actually squeals and giggles and tries to squirm out of Isaac's grip, but he's too busy laughing, which means that Isaac is stronger for once.

And Isaac feels pleased and proud because he made Scott giggle like that, made his eyes sparkle with tears of laughter and his cheeks burn bright red, and he wants –

He wants to taste that, unadulterated happiness and soft caramel skin, so he leans down, aiming for Scott's cheek, but because the universe absolutely hates Isaac, Scott decides to turn his head at that very moment so Isaac's lips land mostly on Scott's.

Again.

Yeah. So. Dying of embarrassment sounds pretty good right now.

"Boys, what in the world – "

Melissa stops in the doorway, crosses her arms over chest and lifts a very expressive McCall Eyebrow. She's tiny but that doesn't stop her from looking surprisingly intimidating.

Isaac, blushing to the roots of his hair, scrambles to his feet and helps Scott get up too. He wonders how bad "it's not what it looks like" sounds.

Scott chuckles again, covers his mouth with his hand – he's adorable and Isaac is ridiculously weak, moving on – and points to the lamp they apparently knocked over at some point.

Isaac doesn't remember that happening.

"I need a new lamp," is all Scott says, still chuckling, still looking like an innocent five year old, still exuding happiness.

Melissa gives them both a look and maybe Isaac has trouble understanding what the fond smile on her lips means, but it makes him feel all warm inside anyhow.

They're on their way to another cross country meet and this time Isaac is sitting next to Scott on the bus. Because he's a good friend who wants to look after Scott and make sure there are no inflammable substances in his proximity. Also, he's paranoid.

Stiles and Danny are sitting right behind them, both of them texting. The twins couldn't come – and Isaac would really like to know why but he's also a bit terrified of what the answer might be, so he doesn't ask – and Danny is obviously texting Ethan, his infatuated smile a dead giveaway – it's actually sort of cute and Isaac would be really happy for Danny if Ethan wasn't, you know, a murderer – while Stiles is probably texting Lydia and/or Cora, who are supposed to keep an eye on the twins back in Beacon Hills.

Allison has texted Isaac six times already to ask how Scott is doing. It's good to know he's not the only one who's paranoid.

Isaac and Scott are watching funny cat videos – don't judge – on Scott's phone, heads leaning against the backrest, sitting as close together as physically possible without ending up in each other's laps.

And, well, maybe Isaac is actually watching Scott instead of the videos, but who could blame him when Scott is sitting so close that Isaac could probably do something completely ridiculous, like count his dark eyelashes or wax poetic about the different shades of brown in his eyes or kiss him.

He's equal parts proud and disappointed that he has enough self-control left not to do it.

It's been getting easier lately. Dealing with feelings. Accepting that Scott's dimpled smile causes him to blush and giggle like a little schoolgirl on her first date. Seriously, he can't pretend anymore that he doesn't understand why he gets a freaking 747 fleet in his stomach whenever Scott's fingers linger on his wrist.

And that's – it's okay.

He doesn't exactly plan on telling Scott, even if Scott seems to have no problem with Isaac being more touchy-feely lately, but that's probably just Scott being his usual wonderful, accepting, kind self.

And Isaac won't ask for more than Scott is willing to give, he's perfectly content with being his friend. His friend, his rock, his Beta, whatever Scott needs him to be.

He just wants to make Scott as happy as Scott makes him.

"You're staring."

Again, seriously? Okay, so maybe Isaac's self-control sucks.

It doesn't seem to matter though, because there's a sweet, gentle, promise-filled smile on Scott's lips and, yeah, Isaac might have been staring but Scott was looking back, still is, and –

That's gotta mean something, right?

Maybe it meant something all along.

He's almost expecting it this time, the gentle brush of Scott's lips against his when the driver takes a particularly sharp turn, the familiar fluttering of his heart, the golden feeling that spreads throughout his body like liquid fire.

And then Scott puts his head on Isaac's shoulder, fingers giving Isaac's right knee a light squeeze, and Isaac spends the next minutes listening to their matching heartbeats until Scott's steady breathing lets him know he's asleep.

Isaac pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts playing Angry Birds because he needs to occupy his mind somehow and not think about what just happened. Thinking about it equals freaking out and he's not going to do that while Scott is basically sleeping in his arms.

He's almost completing another level when Stiles decides to be an annoying little shit and begins to whisper in his ear.

"Enamor."

Isaac blinks. What?

"What?"

"Enamor," Stiles repeats, a bit louder this time. "Verb. To inspire with ardent love."

Isaac risks a look at Danny – eyes closed, headphones in his ears, all good – and then glares at Stiles as hard as he can. They are most definitely not doing this. Not right now, not in a million years, nope.

Stiles seems completely unfazed.

Either Isaac is shit at looking intimidating or Stiles is immune. It's probably the latter.

But anyway, Stiles can forget it, this conversation is not happening. Ever. Seriously. Just – no.

Isaac takes a deep breath and says calmly, "I have no idea what you're talking about." He's pretty sure even Coach would recognize the lie there.

Stiles snorts. "D'you really think I'm an idiot? Or blind? Or – "

"Yes, actually the answer to all those questions is yes. Now shut up." They're probably going to wake Scott up if they keep it up and Isaac really, really doesn't want Scott to hear the not-conversation they're having.

But Stiles is Stiles, and shutting up is an entirely foreign concept to him.

"Enamored," he begins again, and Isaac can hear him grinning. "Adjective. In love, captivated, charmed."

"Stiles."

"Yes, dear Isaac?"

"I will punch you. I will."

"No, you won't. You don't want to upset Scott. Who you're enamored with."

"Stiles!"

(It's a Saturday morning and they're eating ice cream in Scott's room when Scott huffs impatiently, puts his bowl on the nightstand and grabs Isaac by the collar of shirt.

Isaac is – speechless. Breathless. Grinning into the kiss he's spent months waiting for.

And suddenly this – cold lips, soft tongue, the taste of mint chocolate chip ice cream and fireworks in his stomach – becomes his favorite feeling in the world.

"That – that wasn't an accident," he says when Scott pulls away, hoping he doesn't actually sound as love-struck as his does to his own ears.

"Nope. It wasn't," Scott agrees biting his bottom lip and – oh, wow, okay, that really wasn't necessary.

Isaac stares. He knows his eyes are wide like saucers right now; his body loves to betray him at the most inappropriate moments.

And he's – fuck, he's so completely head over heels for this boy with warm smiles and puppy-dog eyes, it's downright embarrassing.

He doesn't regret it one bit.

Scott chuckles, reaches out and intertwines his fingers with Isaac's. "You see, I was thinking, " he says once he realizes Isaac is still incapable of forming words – sometimes Isaac's brain and mouth refuse to cooperate; not Isaac's fault, it just happens – and starts smiling when he hears the small "oh" that escapes Isaac's lips.

Not the most coherent Isaac's ever been, but. Baby steps.

"Yeah, I was thinking that maybe the universe was trying to tell me something. What with all those – accidents. And stuff."

"And what was that?" Oh, actual words! Finally. Good. Okay, yeah, he can do this.

"Oh, you know," Scott shrugs nonchalantly and looks serious for all of three seconds before he's beaming again. "To get my shit together and just kiss you already."

Isaac grins like the love-drunk idiot he is and leans in for another kiss. Simply because he can.)