A/N: Just wanted to write something silly.

Sorry to anyone following me and was expecting more This Love. I'm sorry to say I haven't made any progress on that. But a couple of years ago I posted some drabbles on tumblr (many different pairings) that I will probably be posting on here soon.

Isaac paced his reclaimed bedroom at the McCall house with his cell phone in hand. He'd just call her up, no big deal. He'd say something simple like, "Hey Malia, do you want to maybe grab something to eat? No, just the two of us. Well actually it would be more like . . . you know, a date type thing?"

Even pretend conversations with himself didn't go well. Isaac growled in frustration and chucked his cell phone at the headboard, where it bounced off and landed on the bed.

"Whoa, maybe lay off all that raw meat, buddy. I think it's giving you rage issues."

Stiles. He was the last person Isaac wanted to see most days and especially on this particular day when he was trying to call up the guy's ex girlfriend. "Scott's not here," he said in way of greeting.

"Did I ask?" Stiles entered the bedroom uninvited. "So what's going on? Did the chat line not give you the full 20 minutes? Just because you finish doesn't mean they –"

"No," Isaac huffed as he went over to retrieve his phone. Unfortunately it seemed to be in perfect working order. He could use an excuse to completely abandon this horrible idea. "Bad reception in here."

"Who you trying to call? Got a girl and a secret love child back in France?"

Isaac only scoffed, not even dignifying that with a response.

"Or maybe you're trying to get the nerve up to call a certain werecoyote we all know and love?"

Isaac dropped his cell phone on the floor in surprise. "Shit," he cursed as he bent down to pick it up. It was totally fine. Damn it. "No! Of course not! I mean, why do you – what makes you think I – I don't like Malia."

"Good save," Stiles said with a sardonic wink and thumbs up. "Come on, man. Ever since you got back you've been staring at her like a love sick puppy. You think we haven't noticed all the flirting? Plus Scott says he can practically smell the mutual attraction coming off the both of you."

"That's not even – wait, did you say mutual?" Isaac couldn't keep the hopefulness out his voice. So he wasn't crazy. She liked him back.

"Oh calm down. You actually have to have the balls to call her first."

"I have the balls," he insisted. He found Malia's name in his contacts. All he had to do was press that little call button. That was it. Just press the button. Just press the god damn button!

"Wow, this is the saddest thing I've ever seen,"Stiles said as he watched Isaac's internal struggle. "You know what? I'm not doing anything right now. I'm gonna help you out with this."

"No, no way, that's really not necessary. Or wanted."

Stiles didn't seem to hear him. He went straight over to the closet and looked inside. "Now that I think about it, you should ask her out in person. And you've gotta dress the part. Oh, um, is this really all you have? Huh."

Isaac eyed Stiles's oversized hoodie and wrinkled khakis and nearly commented on them, but the fact that Stiles actually wanted to help him with Malia was too bewildering to ignore for the easy insult. "So you're just totally cool with helping me get with your ex-girlfriend?"

"Well I'm not doing cartwheels about it, but sure, why not?" Stiles pulled out a shirt, made a disgusted expression, and quickly put it back. "Besides, Malia and I broke up months ago. I'm with Lydia now."

A fact Isaac still had difficulty believing. "How did that even happen?"

"I don't know, dude." Stiles said with a goofy, love struck look on his face. "Some ghost horsemen kidnapped me for a while, and when I got back it just kind of happened. I guess absence really does make the heart grow fonder."

Isaac thought he should ask about the ghost horsemen thing but found that he really didn't care. There were more important things to worry about. "It's still weird that you want to help me."

"Oh come on, we're all friends here! Or slightly hostile acquaintances. Here," he said, shoving a nice shirt at Isaac. "Hell, let's do this jacket too. Trust me, Malia likes it when you make an effort."

Isaac's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. That didn't sound like Malia at all. She was so laid-back and cool. She really didn't seem like the type to make a fuss or be into anything remotely fancy. That was just one of the many things he liked about her.

"I'm telling you, Isaac, she likes having a guy with a plan. Do you have a plan?"

"For what?"

"For a date, dumbass. She was always on me to have something special planned. She likes to be romanced."

Again, Isaac was skeptical, but Stiles had dated the girl for nearly a year. He had to know things about her that Isaac didn't. He took the shirt from Stiles and put it on. "I thought I'd just ask her out to get pizza or something. Keep it low-key, you know?"

"And by that do you mean boring? I mean sure she likes pizza, but do you know what she likes even more? Deer. Take her to a fancy restaurant and order the venison. She'll love it."

"You're sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," Stiles said as he clapped Isaac on his now jacket-clad shoulder. He pointed out Isaac's reflection in the mirror. "And look at that. Much better, right?"

Isaac studied his reflection. He had to admit that he looked pretty damn good. He ran a hand through his curls. "I'm dressed, and I have a plan for the date. Now I just need to figure out how to ask her. Shit, why am I nervous?"

"I guess you're out of practice. Did you really not hook up with any French girls?"

"No, I wasn't worried about that over there. I haven't been with anybody in months. Not since . . ."

Allison. Stiles hung his head as an awkward silence ensued, but it wouldn't do them any good to dwell on the subject, so he cleared his throat and did his best to move on. "Not a problem. You did get her, didn't you? You must have some kind of charm."

"Thanks, I guess." Isaac reached for the nearest scarf.

"Don't put on that god damn scarf!"

"Bite me," he said as he tied it around his neck.

"Did you or did you not ask for my help?"

"I didn't. I really didn't."

"Oh. Well. Since I'm already here," he said as flopped backwards onto the bed.

They went over and over how Isaac should go about asking her out, and each scenario Stiles presented him was more ridiculous than the last. It was as if he didn't know Malia or what she liked at all. Isaac had only known her for two months but even he was sure he knew better than that.

"Now you're just fucking with me," Isaac said angrily. "You're not trying to help me. You're trying to ruin any chance I might have with her."

"No I'm not. I really want to help you out. You're single, you just got back from France, you don't have a job or a high school diploma and you're back living here with Scott and his mom. I'm just trying to brighten up your dumpster fire of a life."

"My life isn't a dumpster fire, Stiles!"

"That's exactly what a pile of flaming garbage would say."

Isaac ripped off the jacket. He had enough. "Why should I listen to any advice you have anyway? Especially after she dumped your ass."

"Hey, she didn't dump me, all right? It was more of a mutual thing we conveyed with a sad look instead of, you know, actual words."

"I can't believe you two didn't work out," Isaac deadpanned.

"Yeah, we didn't work out. Just like I didn't woo her with flowers and take her out to fancy restaurants, and-"

Isaac went completely still. "What?"

"I didn't do any of that stuff with her."

"Son of a bitch! I knew you were just messing with me." Isaac growled. He pulled Stiles up off the bed by his arm and physically carried him to the door before throwing him out into the hall. Isaac slammed the door shut so hard the frame slightly splintered.

Stiles stood up and started banging on the door. "Come on, open the door! I'm really trying to help!"

"Bullshit!" Isaac called, his hands braced on the door to keep him out. "You just don't want me to be with her because she's your ex."

"Hey, it's not my fault you're Mr. Sloppy Seconds!" Isaac pounded his fist on the door, sending Stiles flailing backwards in surprise. Once he pulled himself up from the floor again he said, "Really mature, Isaac. Why would I care? I'm in love with Lydia."

"Then why did you feed me all that crap about her liking to see you dressed up and taking her out to fancy restaurants if you know it isn't something she likes?"

"How would I know that? I never did that stuff for her." Stiles's voice was no longer and light and teasing. "All we ever did was hang out at my house, order food, watch movies, and have sex."

"Stiles," he warned.

"What I'm saying is, maybe she does like all that stuff, but I wouldn't know because I didn't bother. Look, I was kind of a crappy boyfriend, especially towards the end, and I think she deserves better than that."

Isaac couldn't believe it. Was he hearing actual sincerity? He slowly opened the door and Stiles was just standing there, the guilt palpable in his features. "Wow, you're actually being serious."

"It's been known to happen. Especially since you've been gone."

He didn't know what to say. He sighed. "That's nice and everything, but this doesn't concern you anymore. I don't want to do what you did or worry about what you didn't do. This is about me and her now."

"Okay, I get it," Stiles said, holding his hands up in surrender. "You're right, this has absolutely nothing to do with me. But maybe you could just –"

Isaac slammed the door in his face again, but this time there was no real force behind it.

"Fine, I'm leaving."

Isaac let out a slow, steadying breath and picked up his phone. He had to do this on his own without any "help" from Stiles. He pushed the call button and waited with bated breath for Malia to answer. Finally, on the sixth ring –

"Hello?"

The sound of her voice was enough to bring a smile to his face. "Hey, Malia."