Isaac clearly isn't thrilled with the situation he's been saddled with. Derek and Stiles listen quietly as Scott's second paces on their front porch for several minutes before working up the nerve to knock on the door. It's a quick, nervous double-tapping of knuckles on painted wood that would be barely audible to a normal human.

Beta and wolf eye each other for a quick second, during which an entire conversation commences: a quick twitch of the eyebrows, a flick of the ears, and Derek sighs as Stiles drops his head to rest on his paws,effectively deciding for them both who will answer the door. He places a knife and the skinned rabbit on the cutting board he leaves on the counter for this sort of purpose and rinses his hands before heading to the front to greet the anxious teenager.

Isaac's got his hand poised to knock when Derek opens the door. He's also got a scowl on his face and the smell of discomfort about him. His hand drops when his eyes meet Derek's.

"Hi," is all he offers, shoulders hunching a little. "Scott figured this would be a good time to stop by."

The older wolf steps back to give room. "Come in," he says, one hand on the door. Isaac hovers in the entryway for several seconds, indecisive, and then steps in. Derek closes the door behind him.

"Nice house," he tries, taking in the neat, yet sparsely-decorated living area. He stills when his eyes land on the wolf curled up in the corner. Said wolf has yet to acknowledge his presence, barring the angle of his ears and the single, slow swish of his tail. This isn't necessarily a good thing, and Isaac seems to understand that, going by the spike of nerves in his scent.

"Stiles," he greets, tone indecipherable. The wolf's ear flicks but he doesn't raise his head, studiously ignoring Scott's beta. Derek experiences a momentary flicker of indignation which he ruthlessly quashes, fiercely reminding himself that Isaac isn't his anymore. At the moment, he's on the outskirts of the teenaged pack, alongside the sheriff. The sheriff isn't pack either, nor is Stiles, he tacks on hastily as the wolfish instincts inside him, the ones that desire to belong, immediately turn to latch on to memories of the Stilinski pack of two with warm, fuzzy, and relentless feelings. It doesn't matter how Stiles is acting right now. He doesn't know better. Once they figure out how to turn him human again, Stiles will be Scott's again and everything will go back to normal. He resolutely tunes out the traitorous little wolf whine that sings of Stiles seeing sense and staying with Derek as pack, bringing the sheriff with him.

"He won't bite," he assures his former beta. "Not unless you piss him off or smell particularly like raw steak." He gets a huff of agreement from the resting wolf and can't help a small smirk of amusement when he catches the quick movement of Isaac surreptitiously sniffing his hands.

"I think my very existence pisses him off, actually," Isaac says drily, stuffing his hands - meat smell-free - into the pockets of his jeans.

"I think you're fine," Derek dismisses. "He likes fattier meats."

Isaac makes a face and follows him into the kitchen. "I wouldn't know. It's pretty hard to smell how he's feeling past the pack scent." He glances into the living area. "He smells so much like everyone else that I can't get a read on the Stiles scent underneath."

"It's mixed in, I think," Derek suggests. Isaac hums in agreement. Derek takes the following moment of silence to wash his hands so he can handle the rabbit safely. Isaac has his eyes on the doorway, seemingly lost in thought. The smells rolling off of him are conflicted at best. "You get used to it," Derek continues. "I started taking visual cues as soon as I realized scent wouldn't work."

Isaac's nose wrinkles. "It's a little like being human again."

Derek hums, taking the beta's words as they were meant instead of how they feel, and turns to the cutting board. "I think you'll be alright."

Isaac makes a dissenting noise, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. "Does he have the same senses as we do now?"

It's a good question, Derek thinks as he picks up the knife and gets back to work. On one hand, they're called werewolves for a reason. On the other, they're also human. It's a sort of trade-off, and he's not confident that he can explain it well enought to be understood. "In some ways, yes, but at the same time no. Deaton could explain properly. Or Peter."

Isaac turns to face him for the express purpose of making sure he can see his disgusted face. "I don't like either of them," he complains. "You know, with Deaton ritually sacrificing three - some of us," he clears his throat, and Derek doesn't like the way his eyes darken, "and generally being unhelpful. And Peter, who's equally unhelpful and also kind of a creep. No offense."

"I have to be a little offended, since we're related," Derek says wryly, setting down the knife to use his hands. It's at that point that Isaac looks down and sees what he's doing. He jerks back a step and makes a weird, high-pitched noise.

"What is that?" he demands. "What are you doing?!"

"I'm butchering this rabbit," Derek replies casually as he carefully works to remove the innards and separating the tastier bits. Isaac's eyes bug out of his head and he goes three shades paler.

"Where did you get a - no, I can't do this, I'll be in the other room." And he makes good on his word, backing out of the kitchen with haste.

"The couch is comfortable," Derek says amicably, resuming his business without hesitation. "This rabbit was a gift from Stiles. He caught it this morning."

The springs squeak faintly as Isaac seats himself carefully on the couch; judging from his heartbeat, he settled as far as he comfortably can from the napping wolf. "He gifted you a dead rabbit?" he inquires with something like doubt in his voice. "How come?"

"Because he's a good houseguest?" Derek shakes his head, raising the knife again for the last few steps. "It was a surprise, but then he sees me as higher in the pack hierarchy, so I should've expected it."

Isaac takes this in as well as can be expected. "So he gave you food as a sign of, what, respect? That's not very… I mean, it's not that he has issues with authority, but."

"Stiles isn't human anymore," Derek reminds him. Something strange settles in his gut as he says it. Stiles isn't human anymore. "He feels pack bonds now in a way that he couldn't before. It changes things."

"I remember," Isaac acknowledges quietly. The older beta packs up the meat to cook with later and starts to clean up. It doesn't take long before his company returns, hovering in the doorway as he was a few minutes ago. "So why doesn't he like Scott?"

"Stiles doesn't feel those pack bonds," Derek says simply, soaping up a sponge to clean up his mess.

"But he and Scott have been friends since - always," Isaac protests. "How can that change so quickly?"

"I don't think it did," Derek answers, and leaves it at that. "Are you staying for lunch?"

"Are you cooking Stiles' present?"

"I don't have to," he says, mostly to get a reaction out of the younger wolf. Isaac visibly recoils from the idea, grimacing comically. "I was going to start in twenty minutes or so."

"I'm not sure Stiles particularly wants me here," Isaac waffles, uncertain. "And I'm not just saying that because I watched you butcher a cute fluffy animal."

"No, I agree," sighs Derek. "We're lucky he hasn't done anything about your presence yet."

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Isaac puffs up, indignant. Derek waves a soapy hand dismissively.

"It means that you're not familiar, or pack, and he hasn't taken a chunk out of you because I welcomed you in."

Isaac deflates with a huff of air and negative emotion. "It's that bad?" he asks, and it hurts Derek a little to have to acknowledge that dread. He jerks his head instead of replying properly, debating what to say next to make it sound less awful than it is. "How much of Stiles is really in there?"

Always with the big questions. He can't answer.

"Maybe you can get him to accept us?" Isaac tries. "Will he listen to you? Since you're higher up than him in - in your pack."

"I'm not his alpha," Derek rejects him immediately. He faces the younger wolf head-on to get the point across. "And I don't treat him like he's less than me. We're equals. I'd go out and kill a rabbit for him if he wouldn't tear it apart on my hardwood floors the second he got his teeth in it."

"Who's the alpha, then? The sheriff? Will he -?"

"Pack bonds are built on trust, Isaac," Derek interrupts, heavily. "They can't be forced and if you push them they won't be real. You need to build that trust. It's going to take time and patience."

"We don't have either of those things," Isaac jokes half-heartedly. The light-hearted words don't manage to hide the despair in his voice. "What can we do?"

Derek shrugs, at a loss for what else to say. "The first step would be acceptance. He's got to be okay with your presence before you can try anything else."

In the other room, Stiles snuffles in his sleep. Isaac sighs.

"If he's gonna act like an animal," he says, "then I'm going to treat him like one."

"I don't think -"

"At work, Deaton had families adding pets to their homes bring clothes and stuff with their other pet's scents on it for the new animal. He'd have them hold or pet the new animals and take a blanket that smelled like the new pet back for the others. It'd help them get used to each other before they met, to reduce the amount of fights that happened when the family brings the new pet home," Isaac steamrolls, catching on to the idea as he goes. "We can do that with Stiles. Maybe you can drop by Scott's every day or so, bring some pack scent back with you?"

Derek is definitely offended on Stiles' behalf at this point, but at the same time it makes sense. "Stiles is not a housecat to be adopted," he points out. "He's smarter than that. But it might work, given time. And food. He likes to eat."

"We can do that," Isaac replies, newly determined. "We'll bring things every day. Today, even."

"You did that already," says Derek, indicating his presence in the house with a small smile. It makes him feel a little better to know that the pack really is willing to go lengths to get their packmate back, no matter the potential consequences. Isaac nods to concede the point.

"I probably sat on his favourite cushion or something," he says ruefully.

Derek smirks. "Or hugged his favourite person," he suggests, and it takes Isaac approximately four brow-furrowed seconds to get it.

"Wait," he starts, but it's too late: Derek reaches out and snags him into a thorough hug. Once he gets a second or two of flailing out of his system, it's nice. Comforting. The blond beta relaxes into the embrace with a quiet sigh, resting his head on Derek's shoulder.

"The pack's falling apart," he whispers. "Scott's all torn up about Stiles rejecting him. Lydia's never hit the books so hard. Even Malia cares, and she hasn't really connected with anyone yet. It feels weird without him. Kira's trying to get her mom to help, but Mrs Yukimura doesn't really want anything to do with Stiles, so she's getting worked up and trying to talk to Scott, who doesn't really want to talk to anybody."

"It's going to be fine," Derek promises. Isaac makes a small noise of agreement. "You're going to be fine."

Isaac eventually pulls away from the hug and glances towards Stiles. "I'm going to go ahead and get out of your hair, so you can have your…" he grimaces slightly, "gift." He steps towards the door, looking like he almost wants to say goodbye to Stiles, but visibly rethinks that idea when he realizes that not only is Stiles awake, but he's also staring right at Isaac. The moment they make eye contact, the wolf bares his teeth in a silent snarl just menacing enough to get his message across: get the hell off my territory.