By the next afternoon, Danny's having serious second thoughts on the whole 'thou shalt not murder thy chemistry teacher' thing.
"Someone's in a good mood," Stiles says by way of greeting as Danny drops his tray on the table maybe a little harder than he needs to. The resulting clack earns him a couple jumps from the others at the table, and some funny looks from the people around them.
He ignores them. "How could you tell?" he asks, and frowns when it comes out sounding a little more sarcastic than he means it to. He's not the type to sulk, and he's definitely not the type to take it out on the other people. Especially not his friends.
It's just….
"Let me guess," Lydia says, except she's got this knowing look in her eyes that makes Danny think she's not really guessing at all. "Isaac?"
Who is, by the way, not at the table. Which should really surprise Danny a lot more than it does, but after yesterday afternoon and then this morning, he already kind of figured.
Doesn't mean it feels good.
He sighs. "I think he's avoiding me." There's no point hiding it, he guesses. Lydia obviously knows what his problem is, and of all her many graces, discretion just isn't one. If she knows, it's pretty much guaranteed the others do.
Somehow, that makes him feel even worse. He knows it's stupid, but just once, he thinks it'd be nice to be the one with a secret.
It doesn't help that, at that precise moment, Scott's water decides to go down the wrong pipe, and he sputters around something that Danny's already-wounded ego's all too eager to chalk up to a badly-concealed laugh.
He takes a second to remind himself that killing his friend – or at least maiming him with a spork – while therapeutic and probably kind of impressive, would also be a bad idea.
He settles for mutilating his cup of pears instead.
"Why would he be avoiding you?" Allison asks. And even if he already knows, he silently thanks her for being less obvious about it. "Did something happen?"
"Something happened alright," Stiles says. "Chemistry happened." And then he flashes Danny the most overdone wink he thinks he's ever seen. And he's been hit on by a drag queen, so that's saying something.
And no, he doesn't miss the double entendre.
"Hah hah," he mutters dryly, and since his pears are pretty much minced, he shifts his sporky vengeance over to the soggy broccoli beside it.
He looks up, though, when Stiles reaches across the table and claps him on the shoulder.
"Cheer up, Danny Boy," he tells him.
"Yeah," Scott chimes in. That's a little surprising, too, because Scott tends to steer well clear of other peoples' relationship troubles. He's smiling at Danny, though, and it seems genuine enough. "Maybe it's not as bad as you think."
And for some reason, Danny gets the weirdest impression that Scott might know a little more than he's letting on. Wouldn't be the first time.
He brushes it off as wishful thinking, though. Since chemistry, Isaac's been showing up to classes late and disappearing as soon as the bell rings, before Danny can even tell him hi. And when he saw him this morning in the hall, Isaac just docked his head and disappeared into the crowd. Color him paranoid, but that kind of thing's a little hard to misinterpret. His skipping lunch doesn't help.
So yeah, he's thinking it probably is as bad as he thinks, but he thanks Scot anyway, because at least he tried. Danny appreciates the effort.
He doesn't really join in on the table conversation after that. His heart's just not in it, and his head's not even close. He's actually kind of grateful when the lunch bell rings until he remembers what class he has next and who it's with.
Let the awkwardness begin.
Which…it does. It really, really does.
As expected, Isaac shows up a couple minutes late to class, and wow, he must be really committed to this whole 'avoiding conversations with Danny' thing, because one does not simply show up late to Harris' class. If he didn't know better, he might almost believe Harris' glare is the reason Isaac's staring at the ground, and not because he's trying to avoid anything that might resemble eye contact with him.
Too bad he knows better.
It only gets worse, too. It would be bad enough if Isaac was just ignoring him, but he's not. They're taking notes today, but every so often, Danny'll catch Isaac looking at him out of the corner of his eye. When he starts to actually turn his head, though, Isaac immediately goes back to staring at his paper, until Danny just gives up altogether and tries to focus on the lesson.
Keyword here being tries.
French is just as bad, and Econ's even worse because Isaac sits behind him, so he can feel his eyes on him, but he can't do anything about it.
He makes up his mind about halfway through, when he realizes he has absolutely no idea what Coach Finstock's talking about or how half of those numbers got on the board, that this has got to stop before he actually goes crazy.
He decides to catch him after lacrosse practice. It doesn't have to be anything major; he just wants to talk to him, find out what's going on. They didn't even…nothing even happened yesterday. Danny didn't even get around to telling him that he liked him that way, so he doesn't get why Isaac would be freaking out. So maybe he wasn't exactly subtle about it, but they've been kind of semi-flirting – at least Danny has; Isaac's kind of oblivious – for the last couple weeks, so he doesn't really see how it's any different.
Something is, though. Something's different, and Danny doesn't like it, and if making it right means going back to being Isaac's friend and nothing more, then okay, fine, he'll deal with it. That's better than this…whatever the heck's going on.
That's what he tells himself, anyway, and he can kind of almost believe it, too. Enough, at least, that he feels a little better. He still spends the first few minutes before practice looking for the familiar number 14 jersey that he's probably gotten a lot better at spotting than he should be. And he still feels his heart flutter a little in his chest when the owner of said jersey comes tearing in out of nowhere when Taylor gets a little close to the goal Danny's guarding and checks him hard enough to make him fall.
One of these days, Finstock's going to sit Isaac down and give him a strong talking to.
It'll probably be the day someone actually manages to get past him.
As soon as the whistle blows for the end of practice, Danny jogs off ahead of most of the crowd to get to the locker rooms. Isaac disappeared yesterday before he even got into the locker rooms, so he knows he has to be quick if he wants to catch him.
For all the good it does him. As he and the first couple people make it in, he catches sight of a familiar head of curly hair disappearing around the wall of lockers just past Danny's. And like the freakish creeper-stalker Danny's apparently turning in to, he starts after him, slowing down only long enough to prop his stick in his locker before he—
Stops.
Turns.
He thinks he heard something fall out of his locker, but he's not sure what, and so on instinct, he looks. And then he sees it.
A little packet of tinfoil.
A weird sort of feeling rises in Danny's chest as he bends down to pick up the little package off the floor. It's not too big – just about the size of his palm – and there's no note on it or anything. He's almost positive it fell out of his locker, though…he's pretty sure it's for him.
Curiosity wins out, and Danny leans back against the wall of the locker. Carefully, in case he was wrong and it isn't for him, he pulls open the wrapper.
His heart leaps into his throat.
"Whachu got?" Stiles asks, somehow suddenly looking over his shoulder.
It takes Danny a second to find his voice, as he finishes unwrapping the tinfoil. "I think—" he clears his throat, "—I think they're…scones."
"Aw, sweet! I'm starving."
This time, Danny doesn't even feel a little bit guilty about smacking his hand.
"They're just scones," Stiles mutters plaintively, but then Scott clears his throat behind him. He turns and looks at him, and Danny can't quite see the look Scott gives him, but he can imagine. Stiles turns back, scratching his head awkwardly. "Or, you know, maybe they're not. Maybe they're…important…somehow…."
Danny glances over his shoulder, and sees Scott doing the same thing.
Stiles purses his lips. "I'm gonna shut up, now."
"That's probably a good idea," Scott says, and then he looks up at Danny. "So?"
It takes Danny's brain a second to catch up, but then it does, and it's kind of like a light bulb and a mild cardiac event all rolled up in one. "Isaac?"
Scott just smiles. Or maybe he says something; Danny really doesn't hang around to find out. Before he's really sure what he's doing, he's tearing out of the locker room, tinfoil bundle of scones still clutched in his hand. Isaac can't have gone that far.
Sure enough, as he makes it out into the hall, he sees him, and holy crap he changes fast. Like, freakish fast. Seriously, how quick can the guy get undress—
O-kay, not going there.
Except, when Isaac turns around, and he's got this crooked, kind of shy smile on his face like knows Danny knows. And he just stands there, hands in his pockets, shoulders kind of slumped, and God, it shouldn't be possible to look like that. It shouldn't be possible for Danny's heart to beat like this.
He thinks he gets it now, why Isaac's been avoiding him. He wonders how long Isaac's been holding onto those scones, how much courage it took him just to drop him in the locker. Maybe it's just a thank you, maybe he's just returning the favor for the andagi, but Danny doesn't even care. He's just so glad he didn't scare him off.
When he starts forward down the hall, he does it with every intention of telling him thank you, and maybe even asking Isaac if he wants to split the scone with him. Except he realizes, once he reaches him, that that's not gonna work out so well.
Turns out, it's really hard to tell Isaac anything when he's kissing him.
It takes probably a lot longer than it should for Danny's brain to catch up with what's going on – in his defense, he's only been dreaming about this moment for months now – and in a great feat of willpower, he steps back.
"Sorry," he says quickly. "I didn't…" He wracks his brain for something to explain pretty much jumping the guy, and all he ends up coming up with is, "The scones." Because that makes…absolutely no sense at all. "They look…they look great," which they do, by the way; kind of like little biscuits, all golden brown, except the smell like sugar and vanilla. "Thank y—"
Turns out, it's also hard to tell him anything when Isaac's kissing him.
Wait.
Isaac…is kissing him.
Just when that starts to sink in, though, through the clusterfuck of oh my holy God that is his headspace, it's over. Isaac's leaning back, except it's kind of hard to mind too much, because that smile. And for the record, no one – he repeats, no one – should be allowed to smell this good after two hours of work-outs in summer in Cali-freaking-fornia. He's not human, and Danny thinks he may very well be in love.
It seems really silly, all of the sudden, that he was freaking out like that. It seems like Scott was right: it's not as bad as he—
Danny has a thought. "Did Scott know about this?" He knows it's probably not that important in the grand scheme of Isaac Lahey just kissed him back, but, well, he's curious.
He doesn't regret asking, either. Not when Isaac lets out a soft chuckle and his cheeks get a little flushed. "I used his kitchen," he explains, scratching his head a little sheepishly.
Ah. He's been curious for a while now about where Isaac's living, but he wonders if this means that, wherever it is, it doesn't have a kitchen.
"I don't know if they're any good," Isaac tells him. "Me and Scott tried them, but we'll eat anything." Which is true, actually. Isaac, as Danny has discovered, seems to have that same black hole between his mouth and his stomach. The guy could eat for days and not gain a pound.
Danny's about to tell him they're great, except he realizes he hasn't actually tried one yet. He was in too much of a hurry to get out here.
That can easily be changed.
Taking a page from Isaac's book, he very deliberately breaks off a piece of one of the scones, and keeping his eyes on Isaac's, he takes a bite.
…On second thought, maybe Kalea was right. He should marry him. Right now. Because seriously, if he wasn't already perfect enough, the guy knows how to cook. Scones.
"Have I mentioned how much I like scones?" Somehow, he manages to bite it off before he asks if he's mentioned how much he likes Isaac. That would be a new level of cheesy even for him.
Seriously, though, scones are his second favorite pastry in the world. And he's thinking he might have to bump them up on the list after this.
Isaac's relief may very well be the cutest thing he's ever seen. He lets out a breath Danny wasn't even aware he'd been holding, and his whole body kind of sags for a second, and when he straightens back up, he's wearing that broad, perfect, eye-crinkling grin of his that probably shouldn't even be legal in the United States.
"I wasn't sure I remembered the recipe right," he says. "My mom used to make them, but she never—"
"Wrote the recipe down," Danny finishes for him knowingly. "Well, you definitely nailed it." Which is a word he should never allow his brain to associate with Isaac if he ever wants to dream of anything else, ever.
Luckily, before Danny's imagination can take that and run with it, he hears an oddly familiar sound.
He raises an eyebrow. "Was that your stomach?"
Isaac nods, and may Danny just say, that's a lovely shade of red he turns.
Danny can't help it; he chuckles, and then he gets an idea. He holds up the scone, because hey, it's not like they have to worry about sharing germs, and he's kind of freakishly pleased with himself when Isaac takes a bite.
He follows it with a kiss, and he's even more pleased when Isaac's hands find his hips and pull him closer, and God, Danny never wants this to end. After the frankly craptastic way this day started…this is worth it.
Isaac's amazing. His scent, the warmth that seems to radiate off him like a furnace…the way he tastes. Like spearmint, Danny thinks, and rain, and…
And just a little something sweet.