Isaac is nervous. So nervous. And he feels like a dumbass for it. Prom is around the corner and he's going to ask Stiles. Of course he is, Stiles is his boyfriend, after all.
But this is prom.
And though he will never admit to being so painfully cliché, Isaac desperately wants prom night to be special. And it's not like he thinks Stiles will say no, but he wants to do this right. He wants to sweep Stiles off his feet, make his night magical, and all those other horribly trite sentiments.
So he needs to do this right. Doing this right starts with asking. Isaac doesn't know how. Should there be flowers? Balloons? Should Isaac learn to play some cheesy song on the guitar and serenade Stiles in the hallway? No. No. And no. He remembers Stiles's rant about flowers being pointless, "if you're going to spend so much money on something shouldn't it be something the person can actually use? Or at least something that won't die?" Balloons are too boring, they don't scream "prom" or "please say yes" or "I love you" or any of the things Isaac needs them to say. And guitar is so far out of the question given Isaac's lack of rhythm and unfathomable level of tone-deafness.
He needs help.
He gets to school early the next day, declining a ride from Stiles, so he can talk to Scott. He sees Scott talking with Lydia and Allison by the lockers and walks over to them, thankful that girls were there to give their input. Girls know how to do this stuff, right?
"Hey, Isaac," Scott greets him happily.
"I need help," Scott's grin fades, immediately expecting the worst. The girls give matching looks of concern.
"What 's wrong? Did Derek kick you out again? You know you're always welcome at my house-"
"No, I want to ask Stiles to prom," Isaac interrupts him before he can get too worked up.
"So?" Lydia asks, clearly not understanding the seriousness of the dilemma. Taking in Isaac's surprised look, Lydia rolls her eyes and adds, "He's your boyfriend, Isaac. Just ask him," she says nonchalantly.
Apparently a feminine opinion is not gold.
"Don't you dare just ask him," Scott says, clearly affronted. "This is Stiles. He deserves the best. He deserves better than the best and you better not just ask him or I am telling Derek to kick you out!"
Isaac can't hold back his grin at Scott's dramatics and they all stop talking as Stiles walks up.
"Maybe you could make him cupcakes?" Allison suggests in their fourth period.
That could work. Stiles likes cupcakes, right?
"Do you know how to bake?" Allison asks and no.
No, he does not.
She grins at his lack of response. "Don't worry, I'll help," she tells him teasingly.
This could work.
"Scott!" Isaac calls out, catching up to him in the parking lot after school. "You know how Stiles likes that stupid movie where the guy plays that cheesy song on the boom box?"
Scott gives him a disapproving look, like obviously he knows everything about Stiles. Which, to be fair, he kind of does.
"First, do not ever let Stiles hear you calling Say Anything, cult classic favorite, a stupid movie. Second, Stiles would castrate you for saying that romantic gesture is cheesy. John Cusack is not cheesy." Isaac tries not to laugh at the way Scott is just repeating Stiles's opinions as if they are solid fact. "And, yes, of course I know it. He's made me watch that damn movie a thousand times."
"So you know the song?"
"In Your Eyes by Peter Gabriel."
"Can you get it for me?"
"This have something to do with prom?" Scott asks, grinning widely. Isaac returns the smile. "Oh, man, he's gonna love it, Isaac."
Yeah, this could work.
When Isaac got to the loft he shot Lydia a text asking for her help to pick out a tux and flowers. Well, more like begging. What can he say, he really needs everything to go right, dignity be damned.
From Lydia: Fine. Meet me at the mall in two hours.
Lydia: Thank you!
He plops down on the couch, waiting for Derek to get home and running over his game plan in his head. Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long before Derek slid the loft door open roughly, bickering with Peter who follows him in.
"What? No little boyfriend around to irritate everyone today?" Peter asks Isaac condescendingly. Isaac rolls his eyes in return.
"Actually, I need your guys' help with that."
"I am not giving you anymore advice on your relationship with Stiles," Derek replies, sounding extremely put out by even the sheer idea.
"God, no. Please don't. I'm still recovering from your horrible sex ed crash course," Isaac says, shuddering at the memory. "No, I just need you to help blow up some balloons."
"Why?"
"Because I'm asking him to prom," Isaac answers like it's the most obvious thing ever.
"He's your boyfriend, moron," Derek tells him, eyes rolling so far back in his head Isaac thinks they might get stuck there. "I'm pretty sure prom goes with the whole dating concept."
"I want it to be special," Isaac retorts, shooting Derek the best innocent, wide-eyed look he could muster.
"Yeah, well, I'm not blowing up more than ten."
Derek thinks he's being hard, but really Isaac knows he won the battle.
"So, what duty am I fortunate enough to be saddled with?" Peter asks sarcastically, feigning disinterest.
"I need you to take Stiles out tomorrow. Just, keep him away from the loft for a couple hours."
"What am I supposed to do with a hyperactive teenage idiot for more than five minutes?"
Peter talks a big game, sure, but Isaac knows he has a fondness for them. Well, at least for Stiles. He appreciates the witty banter, there's no denying it.
"You'll figure it out. You're a smart guy, right?" Isaac asks, a vaguely challenging tone in his voice.
Peter simply smirks in return and Isaac considers not leaving Stiles alone with him after all.
But no, everything will be fine. More than fine.
This is going to work.
The following day Allison's frosting the last of the cupcakes, Scott's setting up the old boom box he managed to dig out of his garage, Derek's lazily blowing up balloons (more than ten, Isaac notes happily), and Lydia's organizing everything. Peter's still out with Stiles, doing what, Isaac isn't sure. He didn't want to ask.
And Isaac, he's tugging at the collar of the shirt Lydia picked out for him, yanking at the sleeves with nervous energy. Lydia scolds him, tells him the fabric is going to wrinkle, and hands him the flowers.
He hears the elevator reach their floor, hears the footsteps approaching the door, and suddenly all of this seems stupid. Very very stupid. Why did he do any of this? Stiles isn't going to like this, he's going to think it's lame, he's probably going to laugh-
The door slides open and Stiles's rambling words catch in his throat as he takes in the scene before him and Peter Gabriel's voice reaches his ears.
"W-what is all this?" Stiles asks, a slight laugh in his voice. But Isaac doesn't mind, not at all, because that laugh is accompanied by a bright smile that Stiles can't seem to suppress.
Isaac had a whole speech prepared, a lame one with a Star Wars theme, but he doesn't need it.
It doesn't matter that the cupcakes are burned. It doesn't matter that the cd skips and one of the speakers is shot. It doesn't matter that Derek only blew up the yellow balloons when Isaac specifically asked him to distribute the colors equally. It doesn't matter that Stiles thinks flowers are pointless.
Isaac walks up to the still-grinning Stiles, hands him the bouquet of flowers, and simply asks, "Will you go to prom with me?"
Because none of this ever mattered. Neither of them ever needed a big production.
And when Stiles nods eagerly in return, it's the only thing that matters.