Total Damages
4

They all have had a system, a rhythm. Some regularity that has kept them close, within reach, and in a way, safe. Though it is true that their safety is at all times threatened, they held on to the safety net of their companionship, and the more they held- the more tightly and desperately- they better it became, the stronger.

It was the first Saturday of the month; Erica arrived first, though by virtue of living on Derek's suite couch, Isaac had her beat on a technicality. She grasped him in a quick hug, kissing his cheek. She was already tugging herself out of a slim-fit tee shirt, toeing off her shoes, and yet staying easily upright. That was her rhythm. Head up, be let in, strip.

"Pick for me," she breathed, careless. Isaac pawed through the closet, breathing deeply for Derek's signature smell. There were still a couple of shirts that smelled like Erica. He grabbed one that didn't, an odd, grey button-up, and tossed it to her.

Her bra was of a high-quality, no doubt stolen from a Victoria's Secret, and it disappeared beneath the over-long shirt in an instant. It was the pattern, though, that had arrested him.

"Your bra reminds me of something," he said quietly, sitting on the end of the bed. "I can't quite think of what."

She sat beside him, feeling more comfortable than she had all day, all week, in her alpha's clothing, "And that's how I know which part of the forest you like to bark at trees in."

He flushed and looked down, grinning, "I guess. How's Boyd?"

Of all of them, Boyd spent the most time at his actual home, becoming something of a rock star to his parents, though he maintained his distance. The subject change threw Erica, and her heart skipped. She missed him between classes, before school and after, and it perturbed her how often her memories flashed to their terrifying night in the woods, being chased. It wasn't the chasing- it was the hand-holding. And the way he had put himself down for her, tried to keep her safe.

She bit her lip, "We haven't gotten to see each other much, since my doctor has me under pretty strict surveillance. My parents are flipping out, finally... It took them long enough to realize I wasn't sick anymore, but..."

"But there's no explaining it."

"And Boyd..." she grit her teeth, "And Boyd isn't welcome in my house."

Isaac sighed at her snarl, reaching out to pull her against his chest. "I'm so sorry."

"I can't... I can't understand it, it makes me so angry."

There was a creaking, then, down a floor and approaching. Voices mingling, both irritated.

"Well, Scott's here," Erica purred, pushing away from Isaac and scrunching her nose.

Isaac blanched, stomach suddenly tight, "Yeah, well, Stiles is here, too, so..."

"Whatever," Erica laughed, grabbing one of Derek's pillows and slamming it against the back of Isaac's head. It dropped; he hadn't tried to stop her. She sauntered to the door and poked out her head. The two teens were already rounding the corner, no doubt having taken the stairs. She gave a little wave and left the door ajar.

"Scott, I really don't know."

"Well, neither do I!" the werewolf hissed back, "It just seems like a good idea at this point. Even Jackson and Lydia are involved now."

"They're not even going to be here today."

"Lydia's parents have a thing. Jackson went with- look, it doesn't matter!" Their conversation stalled in the hallway, their voices low but intense.

"It does matter! Shit's hitting the fan all over town and you're dragging me to a werewolf slumber party with Derek-I'm-So-Buff-Hale, and acting like everything is just fine! Since when do you even run in his pack? I thought you- with Derek- and, the alpha thing-"

"Stiles! Stiles!" Scott huffed, "I know, I know, but things have changed. The last two months... I keep trying to tell you, but you won't believe me."

Isaac and Erica perched on Derek's bed, Erica with her knees up to her chest; they knocked their heads together in amusement, listening and waiting.

"Why do like Derek so much now, anyway?" Stiles groaned, his footsteps rapidly reaching the door to the suite.

"Why do you still hate him so much?" Scott matched his best friend's tone with impatience. "He's actually done a lot for us, since that night with- with Grandpa Argent- you know? Things have changed. It feels... better. Like..."

Stiles sighed, averting his eyes at the word feels, "Like what?"

Scott grinned, "Like we're connected. A pack. Like family."

"Oh, come on!" Stiles wailed, following him into the suite with his arms wheeling in agitation.