And where, where are you going?:
You're starting to get anxious by the time the April full moon comes around. Gerard has been here for two months now and still hasn't made his move. You've gotten another refill of pills from Scott but you worry the longer this goes on the more likely it is that he'll realize they're not the same pills as his old ones. You still don't have a time frame for how long he's going to live. You didn't think he'd want to stick around, play nice, and pretend to be a high school principal for long, but what if he has two years or something? You did not expect for him to be this patient. You can't just sit around and hope you'll be in the right place at the right time to stop him. You need more information. "I have no idea what he's planning," Scott says tightly, arms crossed over his chest uncomfortably. You'd asked to meet him in the woods after school so you could talk about what to do about Gerard, but you hadn't told him Isaac would be here and you're starting to think you should have. Both Scott and Stiles seem unnerved by his presence and keep giving him distrustful looks, even though they haven't said anything about him. Do they not realize that Isaac is no longer with Derek? Haven't they noticed Erica and Boyd avoiding him at school?
To be fair though, Isaac seems just as irritated with them as they are with him.
"He made some weird cryptic threat at the championship game, but I don't know, he seemed..." Scott continues, biting his lip contemplatively, "...weirdly patient."
Crap.
"And then he quoted Shakespeare," Stiles says, sticking his hands in the pockets of his jacket and kicking idly at some fallen leaves on the ground. "Dude loves Shakespeare. And yet somehow that makes him even more terrifying."
You have no idea, you think darkly, remembering the feel of Gerard slamming you face-first into the garage wall.
"Yes, well, that's all very fascinating, but that still doesn't solve any of our problems," Lydia says tartly, trying very hard not to sink heels first into the mud. You can't believe she walked all this way in those heels without tripping and braining herself on a rock. Actually you can't believe her willingness to get involved in this when it doesn't concern her in the slightest. You really had not expected loyalty to be one of Lydia's defining traits, but it kind of is. It's not just loyalty either; it's loyalty to you. You're not sure how you feel about that. "Does no one here really have any idea how to stop him?"
"Hey, I'm all for locking him and Derek in a room and letting them kill each other," Stiles says flippantly.
"Stiles, that's not funny," Scott protests, looking upset at his best friend's ruthlessness.
"I have no problem with that plan," you say, but you know it will never happen, because Scott clearly does, and you know Isaac wouldn't be happy with it either.
"No one is killing anyone," Scott says tersely, glaring at you now. "There has to be another way."
"Yeah, you say that, but does that ever really work out for you?" Isaac says, looking unimpressed with Scott's naivete. "I don't see Gerard going out without a fight and considering he wants to murder us all, I say he's the one who should die."
"Hey, you want to go up against grandpa murder, be my guest, just leave us out of it," Stiles says, scowling at Isaac. "Just don't be surprised if he cuts you in half with a sword."
Please let that be hyperbole, you think, but it's probably not. You would not be at all surprised if Gerard has a sword.
"What about Derek?" Scott asks, as Isaac gives Stiles an annoyed look. "Have you tried talking to him? Because he might be planning something as well." He gives Isaac a speculative look. "Do you know what he's going to do?"
You let out an inappropriate snort of laughter. "Derek and I had a slight philosophical disagreement which ended in me threatening to shoot him in the head if I ever see him again," you reply when they all turn to look at you in confusion. "So, no."
"Oh," Stiles says, while Scott looks horrified. "Right. So I guess we're talking to him then."
"I wish you the same luck that I had," you tell him and try not to be annoyed at the uncomfortable look on Isaac's face. Derek's a horrible person, but you need to be more understanding that from Isaac's point of view, Derek saved him from his dad, even if he had completely selfish motives for it.
"Well, this has been fun," Lydia says after an awkward silence, looking down at her muddy shoes in disgust. "Next time let's meet in an abandoned warehouse like normal people, shall we?"
"Good luck," you tell Scott, attempting to give him an encouraging smile, and you do mean it. Derek could potentially be very useful against Gerard. You just don't think you can have a conversation with him without wanting to kill him.
You turn away and Isaac pushes off the tree he's been leaning against artfully because he's a drama queen like that, making a note to ask what exactly happened between him and Scott that makes Scott glare at him like that.
"So...completely off topic, but I just have to ask," Stiles says, and you turn around automatically to look at him. "Are you two a thing now, or what?"
He looks completely unabashed, looking between you and Isaac expectantly and you stare at him confusion, because really? That's what he wants to know?
"Stiles," Scott hisses, going red with embarrassment. He turns to look at you in horror, guilt all over his face even though he didn't even do anything wrong. "Uh...that's not...I mean-"
"Oh, my God, can we leave now?" Lydia complains, fortunately.
"Please," Isaac says, looking at Stiles in unveiled disdain.
"Tell me if you find out anything else," you tell Scott and then turn away without a second glance at Stiles.
"Right, just asking!" Stiles yells at your retreating back and you roll your eyes at Lydia, even as your chest aches uncomfortably, because you know why he asked that.
"Oh, my God, Stiles, shut up," you hear Scott say before you stop being able to hear them, though by the smirk on Isaac's face he's clearly berating Stiles for his terrible social skills.
"If they're our only hope, we're all going to die," Lydia says flatly, expertly maneuvering her way around a couple tree roots.
"I actually agree with you for once," Isaac says with a snort.
"Shut up, Isaac."
Two hours after you drop Isaac off at the bus station on the full moon, he calls you while you're in the middle of grocery shopping.
"Hello?" you say hesitantly, wondering if he'd butt-dialed you.
"Hey," Isaac says, sounding completely normal. "Can you come pick me up? Don't really need to be here."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" you say, remembering Scott's creepiness on the full moon. "You're not..." Feral?
"The anchor thing," Isaac says, sounding uncomfortable. "It works. I'm not, you know. It's still a little, I dunno, it feels like I had five cups of coffee, but I'm, you know, normal."
"Okay," you say, ducking your head down and closing your eyes in relief, because this is good, this is great actually. From now on he can just stay in on the full moon.
"And so now I'm incredibly bored," Isaac says, sounding like his regular self. "So I'm going to take the bus back. Can you pick me up?"
"Yeah, sure," you reply.
But you don't end up picking him up at the bus station. Instead you just barely miss a green light and by the time you get to the bus terminal, there's ten or so people hiding under benches, broken glass and bullet holes everywhere, and a splatter of blood all over the side of the bus Isaac had taken back.
For a second you just stare at the scene uncomprehendingly. Then, the sounds of sirens in the distance jars you into action. You speed off without a second thought, your heart hammering so hard in your chest that you feel it might burst out of your chest like the Alien.
"No, no, no, no," you say when the light in front of you turns red, shaking like a leaf in your seat. "This isn't happening, this can't be happening."
Did they kill him? Did they take him?
"Isaac," you sob, dropping your head down onto the steering wheel and gripping it so tight your hands ache. "Please, please, please..."
He can't be dead. He can't be, you need him, how could you not, just go on without him?
The car behind you honks its horn and you sit up and realize the light is green. You speed ahead and pull over on the shoulder immediately, rummaging around in your purse for a stupidly long amount of time to find your phone. You're just about to call him when you pause, taking shuddering breaths, and realize what a terrible mistake that could be. If Gerard has him, if they have his phone...
"No, God, please," you sob and clutch the phone to your forehead.
You can't. You want to but you can't. You don't know what to do, where to go. If he's alive, if they have him...you have no idea where they'd take him. Surely not back to your house. Why is this happening?
Before you start to have a complete panic attack your phone buzzes against your head and your heart leaps when you see the caller ID "Sam" in bolded white letters on your screen.
"Isaac!" you choke out, tears rolling down your cheeks, the phone shaking violently in your hands as you hold it up to your ear.
"Where are you?" he says on the other end, breathing heavily.
"Are you okay?" you sob, slumping against the steering wheel again because he's alive. He's alive. "Isaac, I saw, when I got there...there was so much blood-"
"I'm fine," Isaac says, but his voice is shaking badly. "Allison, they just...they shot me! I got off the bus and they just-"
"Are you okay?" you repeat helplessly. "Where are you?!"
"I'm fine, I healed, but they're still...they're still looking for me. I'm behind the Jimmy John's on Sycamore, but they drove by a second ago and I don't think I can move without them seei-"
"Don't move, I'll be right there," you say, putting him on speaker phone and balancing your phone in your cup holder before starting your car again. Jimmy John's is barely two blocks away. "Just please, don't hang up!"
"O-Okay," Isaac says, sounding scared. "I just, Allison, what if they see you-"
"Then they see me!" you snaps, wiping your eyes furiously while you speed through a yellow light. You can't think about the consequences of your actions right now, not with Isaac's life on the line.
"But Allison if they..." He stops and then says quietly. "Shit."
"Wh-"
A gunshot goes off and you nearly drive off the road. "Isaac!" you yell, futilely, because there's no reply and a car angrily honks its horn behind you as you cut them off and speed into the parking lot behind the Jimmy John's. You skid to a stop as you get behind the fast food chain to see a young guy in a leather jacket with his gun inches from Isaac's face, Isaac pressed up against the dumpster, his shirt covered in blood.
They both jump and turn to stare at you, their faces very white in your headlights and you don't give it a second's thought before you hit the accelerator.
The hunter, a young guy in his early twenties with shaggy brown hair and freckles, doesn't even have time to shout before you slam into him, sending him flying back several feet onto the pavement. You don't even give him a second glance before you turn to Isaac and scream, "Get in!" and hightail it out of there the second he throws himself into your passenger seat.
"Oh, my God," you say, staring blankly ahead of you as you swerve back onto the road. "Oh, my God. Did I kill him? Is he...is he dead?"
"I don't know," Isaac says, leaning over to hide his face in his knees. "I don't...shit!"
"How did they know you where there?" you yell angrily. "How did they-Goddammit!"
Isaac grumbles something into his knees while you continue your terrible driving, heading to the motel on auto-pilot.
"What?"
"I said pull over!" Isaac chokes and throws himself out of the door the second you do to throw up all over his shoes.
Somehow, you get to the motel. It's all kind of a blur actually, one second you're driving and the next you're curled up on the bed, shaking violently while Isaac rinses out his mouth in the bathroom.
That hunter. You might have killed him. He might have seen you. If you'd been one second later Isaac might be dead too.
You don't want to think about this right now. You can't, it feels like if you're left alone with your thoughts for one more second you might explode. You need something else.
"Isaac," you say hoarsely, pushing your hair back with trembling hands. "Isaac, come here."
Isaac stumbles out of the bathroom after a second, shirt still covered in blood. There's holes in it from the bullets and you find yourself reaching for them automatically, just to check that he's really not injured. Isaac doesn't say anything as your fingers slowly poke through the holes in his shirt, the blue v-neck, your favorite. And now it's ruined.
But he's alive. Your fingers come back bloody, but there's no wounds under the blood. He's completely and utterly healed.
"Allison," Isaac chokes out as you stare at your bloody fingers and you look up to see the anguished look on his face, the way his shoulders shake.
"Come here," you say quietly and pull him into bed with you, struggling with the musty bedspread to get under it and warm him up.
Isaac continues to shake as you get your shirts off and press your bare skin against each other, burying his face in your hair and clutching your waist. You run your hands over his back, his chest, his biceps, just to make sure he's solid, real, but it's not enough. Even after you're no longer shivering, you need something else. Isaac seems to realize it at the same time because he crushes his mouth against yours hungrily and rolls on top of you.
"Allison," he whispers needily, kissing your neck as you struggle to get your bra off. "Allison, please."
"I know," you groan, the way he said please causing an ache to throb between your legs.
He slides down to kiss and knead at your breasts the second you get your bra off and you let out an embarrassing moan and wrap your calves around his waist. Your jeans feel heavy and constricting, and you don't give much thought to unbuttoning your jeans and pushing them down your legs. Isaac removes his mouth from your left nipple and stares down at your underwear-gray and boring, of course, it's not like you planned this, you haven't even shaved your legs in a couple days- his blue eyes wide with arousal and surprise.
"Shit," he groans and takes his hands off you to go for his fly.
You roll him over as he kicks off his jeans and kiss him furiously, pressing your bare breasts against his chest and unconsciously grinding your hips down against his boner. Isaac moans and shakes, clutching your shoulders and then lets out a needy whimper when you grab his right hand and pin it above his head.
"Allison," he hisses, squirming beneath you helplessly, all long limbs and pale skin, swollen lips, just beautiful, and for a second you feel ugly and unworthy, because you're not really sure what he sees in you, before you push it out of your mind. You can't think about that right now. You need to think about something else. With this in mind, you push off him to go get the condoms from your purse. You're not stupid, after all. You knew where this was going and you hate feeling unprepared.
Isaac sits up and gapes at you as you pull off your underwear (you haven't shaved down there either in years, but whatever) when you come back to sit on the bed. You feel your cheeks burn against your will under his gaze and tell yourself not to be such a virgin.
"Do you want to?" you ask, holding up the condom, the most generic brand you could find because you really had no idea what all the other stuff meant and it was weird enough buying them at the gas station shop anyway. It comes out less coy and more shy than you meant it to.
Isaac lunges at you in response and you both tumble down onto the bed, tangling one hand in his hair, the other pulling down his boxers as he rolls back on top of you.
It is, perhaps rather predictably, a total disaster. It hurts, a lot, and when Isaac smells the blood he freaks out and refuses to touch you again, his face white with miserable horror. You guess he didn't know that was normal, but at that point you're in too much pain to want to try again and you end up telling him shut up and hiding under the pillow because he won't stop apologizing. In retrospect it was probably pretty stupid to try it like that for the first time, terrified and running on adrenaline.
It doesn't have to be a big deal, you tell yourself practically as you sneak out in the morning, wincing at the ache between your legs. You're not living in some stupid romantic comedy. This is normal. You'll move past it.
And you do. It's still pretty humiliating, and definitely makes you think twice before trying again, but you know it's not the end of the world. You're hardly the first girl to have a horrible first time- in fact it's probably one of the most normal things about you. It's just the way things are, and you're not going to overreact and let it change things.
You have no problem adjusting to these new circumstances. Isaac, on the other hand, does.
He mopes around a lot and doesn't seem to want to touch you, which is weird, because usually that makes him feel better. Isaac has always had sad days, even before he became a werewolf. He'd come to school blank-faced and close-mouthed, and you'd just sit with him companionably and wait it out, because you have sad days sometimes too, days where your parents say the wrong thing at breakfast, where even getting out of bed seems like an insurmountable task, where it seems like there's no light at the end of the tunnel and you hate everything. After he became homeless you used to hold him and pet his hair, let him fall asleep in your lap when things got to be too much, and it always seemed to help.
Except now he doesn't seem to want your affection anymore, always shying away. He absolutely refuses to do anything with you besides kissing. You try to be patient and let him get over it in his own time. You get the impression that he's pretty sheltered, no friends before you, no family besides his dad-he probably thought sex was like it was in porn. That's got to be an unpleasant wake-up call.
But after a week you start to panic. What if he doesn't want you anymore? It's not like he would ever outright tell you. What if he's gay? You try to awkwardly bring it up again, because you'd rather try again and just grit your teeth and bear it than lose him completely, but Isaac quickly changes the subject and then blatantly lies about some French assignment to dissuade you from hanging out with him at the warehouse after he gets off work.
He won't talk to you about it and everything's awkward, and instead of getting better it only gets more and more uncomfortable, until finally you can't stand it anymore and do the only thing you can think of. You talk to Lydia.
"You're going to have to be a lot more specific than that," Lydia says practically, making it even more awkward by the fact that she doesn't seem to realize how awkward this whole thing really is. "But it sounds like your main problem is lack of lubrication. Please tell me you at least did some foreplay first."
You gape at her blasé attitude and the fact that she didn't even attempt to keep her voice down. You're sitting on the benches outside for lunch and there aren't many people in the area because it's still a little chilly, but still. Doesn't she realize how incredibly private this is? You're talking about your developing sex life for God's sake!
"I...what do you mean by foreplay?" you ask, folding your arms over your chest uncomfortably. Didn't that just mean kissing?
Lydia gives you an incredulous look. "Fingering? He didn't just shove it in, did he? Because that is definitely not going to be pleasant."
Fingering? Why would you do that? You weren't two horny kids at some house party who were too lazy or drunk to find an empty room. You'd had a room all to yourselves. Lydia made it sound like it was the same as stretching before exercising, but that doesn't make any sense, because there's no way everyone does that before sex.
Lydia sighs and leans forward on her forearms to look at you pityingly. "Look," she says, looking disappointed in your lack of sexual knowledge. "Go buy some lube. Condom lube is terrib-you were using a condom right?"
"Yes," you says irritably, feeling your cheeks flame, because you may be inexperienced but you're not stupid.
"Good," Lydia continues. "Lube. Use it. Make him finger you. Doggy-style is the best if you want to get off, but there's always clitoral stimulation. Please tell me you're not one of those girls who doesn't masturbate."
You gape at her, because how can she be so matter-of-fact about this, and also because you'd always assumed Lydia was one of those girls who pretended she didn't masturbate.
"I-" you choke, feeling hot and uncomfortable. "No, I-"
"Good," Lydia repeats breezily. "Then just show him what you do to yourself. Boys are slow and stupid, so it'll take a while, but just remember not to let him think he can just roll over and go to sleep after he gets off. If he's getting off then you have to too."
You have no idea how to respond to her very candid advice, most of which makes you very uncomfortable. You'd sort of thought Lydia would laugh you off and make some comment about you getting used to sex after the first couple times, not give you graphic sex advice.
"Any other questions?" Lydia asks you expectantly, not seeming to understand at all how inappropriate her advice is. "If Isaac is even halfway decent he'll go down on you first, but he seems more like the selfish type, so I wouldn't count on that unless yo-"
You've never been as glad to hear the bell ring in your life.
You're not particularly enthused about Lydia's advice. You definitely don't want to try it doggy-style, it seems kind of demeaning, to be honest. The idea of him going down on you just seems kind of gross. You have no idea why anyone would want to put their mouth there and it's not some internalized-misogyny thing. There is no way you would ever do that to him either. Even thinking about trying to show him how you get yourself off makes you feel humiliated and awkward (why would Lydia ever think that you'd want to masturbate in front of him?) But you have to admit that Lydia knows a lot more about sex than you do and the part about the lube and fingering seems sound. You can do that at the very least.
"I want to try again," you tell Isaac baldly on Friday afternoon after you pick him up from work. You feel a little mean about waiting until after he's in your car so he can't escape as easily, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
Isaac gives you an incredulous look "Why?" he asks, looking like you just suggested jumping off a cliff just to see what happens.
"I know what the problem was," you tell him confidently, and try not to let on how embarrassing this is, even though he can probably tell anyway. "This time will be better."
Isaac doesn't say anything and when you glance away from road you see him staring down at your dashboard miserably.
You feel your heart clench. "Do you really not want to?" you ask him, hating how hurt you sound.
"No, I just," Isaac says turning to look at you for a second before looking out his window. "I hurt you," he mutters quietly.
You want to tell him that that's not true, that he didn't, but you can't, because he did hurt you. Not on purpose, but you don't think telling him that would help either.
"It's normal, for girls," you say awkwardly, turning back to look at the road, feeling your cheeks heat up. You hate that he doesn't already know this, that you have to tell him this.
"Then why would you ever want to..." Isaac says after a pause. "I don't understand. We don't have to...we could just...not."
Don't be so naïve, you think, but don't say, because laughing at him is not going to make this situation any better.
"Practice makes perfect," you tell him, looking ahead at the road with purpose. "It'll be better this time. I think we should try again."
"Okay," Isaac says quietly, but he doesn't really sound happy about it.
It is better. It's still pretty uncomfortable, but the lube helps it go easier than last time. Isaac is a lot more careful with you too, and the fact that he doesn't take very long to come is also a plus. You have no idea why everyone talks about how important it is for guys to have stamina. You don't think you would like if he lasted a long time.
It doesn't really do much for you-you have no desire to take Lydia's advice and show him how to get you off afterward-but you like the way Isaac clutches at you desperately and moans quietly into your hair. He doesn't make much noise, but the noises he does make make you feel warm and wanted, and when he comes he gasps out your name, and you like that too.
He's trembling when he rolls off you, flushed alarmingly far down his chest, and you grin at how affected he is, rolling onto your stomach carefully to snuggle into him. You feel weird and slick between your thighs from the lube and it aches a bit, but it's much better than last time.
"Did-Did you-?" Isaac asks hopefully, chest still heaving.
"No," you say, a little bemused by how he thinks you might've come without him even noticing. "Don't worry about it. It's harder for women."
Isaac nods shortly, and then seems to notice he's naked and quickly pulls the covers up to his waist. You feel like you should point out he's still wearing the condom, but that seems awkward and you've kind of had enough of that for one day. You wrap an arm around his waist happily, relieved that this worked out.
"Told you," you tell him smugly, kissing his shoulder lightly.
Isaac just grumbles and buries his head in your shoulder. You stroke his hair for a bit in silence, enjoying the afterglow, but when you try and bring up the fact you should probably both shower Isaac doesn't respond. You guess the thing about guys falling asleep right after sex is true. You're not tired at all, but you stay as long as you can, feeling warm and pleased about your success. You leave at nine so your parents won't start worrying, but Isaac doesn't stir, even when you try and shake him awake to let him know you're leaving. He must be really worn out.
A/N: I actually really enjoy writing Allison being extremely sheltered. It's not something you see often in fic and it's interesting to explore how her childhood affects her views on relationships and sex. Anyway, I finished this fic now, so I'll be updating once a week. Yay! Please review!
