Stiles is aching to be in Derek's comfortable presence once more. Preferably napping in it, but he would take what he could get at this point. All of the surprise visits throughout the day has him spoiled. There has been question after question, and one imploring look after the other since gym. Nothing would make Stiles happier at this moment then being able to burrow his nose into the long line of Derek's neck and just breathe.
Unfortunately, Derek isn't anywhere near, and instead, Stiles is surrounded by the Beacon Hills lacrosse team. To say he is cranky would be the understatement of this universe. The tenor of Jackson's voice as he jokes with Scott and Danny is grating on his last nerves as his magic crawls restlessly under his skin, setting him further on edge.
It wouldn't take much to let the raw power wrap around Jackson's suffocating presence and snuff it out. He cannot bring himself to entertain the thought for long. Not when there is still the slightest bit of hope that Jackson could become some semblance of a decent person given time. He just hopes he can hold off long enough to give Jackson the chance. The situation isn't looking promising.
"So, Stilinski," Danny says, snatching his attention away from Jackson's voice.
Danny is leering at Stiles' bare chest. A fast forming habit, Stiles has begun to notice. He glances over to Scott who is rubbing at the bridge of his nose, seemingly stressed.
"Sup, Danny?" Stiles asks as he turns back to his locker for his jersey.
"How much experience do you have?"
Next to them, Scott has apparently choked on his own spit. Stiles looks at him with a furrowed brow as Jackson helpfully slaps him on the back with a fond smile.
Stiles looks back to Danny, dismissing Scott's near inability to exist, "I've played since freshman year with guys a lot tougher than this. I'm sure I can keep up."
"We'll see about that," Danny says with a smirk as his eyes travel further down Stiles' chest.
Scott slaps the back of Danny's head with perhaps too much force and seems to ignore the wince on Danny's chastised face.
"Dude, seriously!" Scott stresses. "If you keep this up we're going to be short a player."
Stiles rolls his eyes and pulls on his jersey, ignoring Danny's cackle. The attention is odd, and Stiles isn't quite sure he likes it. It feels wrong and makes his longing for Derek worse. He quickly pulls on his clothes and searches the room for a familiar face. Isaac is a few lockers down, attempting to keep to himself as much as possible. Stiles slams his locker shut and side steps around Danny, avoiding his wandering hands.
Stiles approaches with a warm smile. Isaac pulls his jersey on as quickly as he can, but it doesn't stop Stiles from seeing the bruises. The sight of them surprises him for a moment. Stiles had never seen Isaac's body up close before he was turned. Never seen the damage obviously done by his father. Never really bothered to pay much attention to Isaac at all. Although, who is to say that the Isaac of this universe doesn't have it much worse.
"I know I said we would go over self-defense after practice, but we have a little time before practice starts," Stiles says. "You want to head on out to the field? I can show you a couple of moves and then we can really get into things back at the house."
Isaac's brows raise and his lips tilt up just ever so much as he nods. Stiles leads them out of the locker room and to the field, happy to leave the presence of Jackson's annoying voice. The longer they walk the more anxious Isaac becomes. The smell is acrid and Stiles is wondering what could cause such a massive amount of anxiety in such a short time. Part of his understands Isaac's suspicion. The way he just showed up in inserted himself into Isaac's life. He gets it. This Isaac doesn't have the confidence of werewolf strength to hide behind. He's just human.
They stop a few feet from the bleachers. Stiles sees Erica not too far away and gives her a wave. She returns the gesture with a wave of her own followed by a shy smile that warms Stiles' heart. Cora isn't too far away from her and she catches Stiles' eye. She is smiling, something akin to approval flashing across her face. Stiles watches as she picks up her books and moves to sit next to Erica.
"You're friends with Erica Reyes?" Isaac asks.
Stiles turns his attention back to Isaac and raises a brow. His tone is defensive and his scent has sharpened.
"She's my gym buddy. Why would we not be friends?"
"It's just you're...you're..."
Stiles watches him closely. Isaac's brows furrow and he looks like he just tried to eat a lemon. His anxiety is peaking, the scent sour in Stiles' nose.
"I'm what?" he prods.
"You–you're better than us! You're a senior, you're friends with Scott McCall and Lydia Martin. What do you want with people like me and Erica? The freak and the punching bag. I don't get it. What's your end game?"
Stiles rubs at his temples.
"There is no end game. Isaac, I am friends with Erica because she is smart, sweet, funny, and damn beautiful if I do say so myself. She is the Catwoman to my Batman. I don't really care what idiotic assholes say about her epilepsy. She doesn't have any control over that. Just like you can't control who beats the shit out of you. It isn't your fault." Isaac gives him a look of disbelief. "Don't you even dare, Isaac. I know you haven't done anything to provoke anyone."
"You don't know that."
Stiles doesn't even bother to use words to counter Isaac's. He just simply stares at him as if he is mentally challenged. Isaac seems to decipher the look fairly quickly.
"I'm friends with you because I like you and that is all that really matters. If anybody has a problem with that they can take it up with me. Be honest. Do I seem like the kind of guy who gives a shit what people think about me, or who I choose to be part of my life?"
Isaac shrugs.
"I met the both of you only hours ago, but I know we will be great friends if you can bring yourself to trust me. Besides, you and Erica are by far my favorites out of everyone I've come into contact with today."
Isaac smiles slightly at the admission. He still seems slightly skeptical, but he doesn't bother to protest anymore. Stiles doesn't blame him for being suspicious. He probably would be too in Isaac's position. If Erica hadn't had his magic wrapped around her earlier she might be asking the same questions.
"If you're done questioning my motives then let's get this show on the road. I'm going to teach you something basic," Stiles says. "When I turn my back to you I want you to grab hold of my wrist and hold as tight as you can. Plant your feet and don't worry about bruising my wrist okay?"
Isaac nods, brows drawn together in concentration. Stiles turns to walk away and Isaac's long fingers wrap tightly around his wrist. Stiles whips around and twists his wrist from Isaac's grip, and follows straight through with his other hand palm up to thrust into Isaac's nose, but stops millimeters away. Isaac's eyes are crossed as they stare at his hand in surprise.
"How did you do that?" he looks at Stiles with wide eyes.
"Like that one huh? C'mon, again, only slower. Watch."
They repeat the move several times until Isaac feels comfortable enough to do it on his own. Once he gets the hang of it a smile stretches across his face. He is standing taller and more confident just by learning one move. Stiles loves that he is putting stock in himself as a human.
"Okay, so now you know how to handle someone jerking you around, but what if I go in for a punch?" Stiles asks. "This is where you need to be quick."
The students in the bleachers have migrated closer to watch the lesson. Stiles doesn't mind. The techniques he is using are great for everyday assailants. Stiles straightens his shoulders and motions for Isaac to come at him. Isaac lunges with his fist headed toward Stiles' face, but Stiles intercepts the punch with his forearm smacking against the bicep of Isaac's striking arm. He grabs the back of Isaac's neck and makes a motion to knee him in the face but stops again just in time.
"This one's a bit trickier but very useful. Your attacker nurses a broken nose, you make your escape," Stiles says.
"How did you learn all of this?" Questions Isaac as he tries to copy Stile's movements.
Stiles' face grows somber and his voice lowers ever so slightly.
"My neck of the woods was pretty dangerous, but I had some amazing friends there. They taught me how to protect myself and how to teach others."
If Isaac takes note of the sadness in Stile's face he doesn't say anything and they continue on with their lesson. Teaching Isaac is calming. His magic is content to linger happily in his bones as he guides Isaac through the moves. He watches Isaac's long limbs, clumsy, and awkward as he attempts to copy Stiles' movements. The thought of watching them become sure and fluid as his confidence in his human side grows is addictive.
As Stiles watches Isaac walk himself through the movements on his own he notices Jackson and Danny making their way to the field. Scott isn't far behind with a couple other players, but they still have a few minutes before the practice begins.
"Stilinski," Jackson calls with an eye roll. "What the hell are you doing?"
Stiles straightens his shoulders and narrows his eyes as Jackson approaches.
"Teaching Isaac how to bake," he replies, sarcastically.
Jackson has an ugly sneer on his face and Danny looks worried. Stiles knows that Danny isn't stupid. He realizes that Jackson is skating on thin ice with Stiles, and it is only a matter of time before Stiles loses his patience. He stands at Jackson's back but gives both Stiles and Isaac an apologetic grimace.
"What makes you think you can teach this loser anything?" Jackson asks, a smug grin fitting over his face as Isaac lowers his eyes.
Stiles' magic whips around him angrily. It is almost a tangible thing when he is this angry. Derek describes it like a charged wave that makes your pulse beat quicker and your hair stand on end. It insights fear. Deaton tells him it is because it is raw, all unleashed at once when the ritual was performed, and that it will settle over time.
Stiles knows Danny and Jackson can both feel it when the wave hits. Jackson tenses up, and Danny's brows raise in surprise. Danny takes a step back calling for Scott who has already felt the shift by the way he is running toward them. Stiles gets up into Jackson's space, his eyes narrowed into slits. His voice is low a dangerous.
"I know you're looking for a fight, Jackson. What I don't understand is why Isaac. What has he ever done to you?"
"What makes you think I have to explain myself to you?" Jackson counters, his voice strained.
Scott fits himself between them, pushing Jackson away from Stiles. Danny seems to get the message and corrals Jackson over to the other players on the field. Stiles is taking deep calming breaths when he feels Isaac's hand on his shoulder. He jumps a little bit in surprise at the touch and turns to face Isaac with a forced smile.
"You didn't have to defend me. Jackson just has some shit going on. I'm an easy outlet I guess," Isaac says quietly.
"Are you seriously trying to defend him right now?" Stiles asks incredulously.
Isaac shrugs and kicks at the ground. "He didn't use to be like this. I mean he has always been sort of jerky, but he never went out of his way to torment people. Not since Stiles–well, you know..."
Stiles rubs at the bridge of his nose and concentrates on the feeling of his magic slowly seeping back into his bones. When he looks at Isaac again he is looking across the field at Jackson.
"I think your cousin's death really screwed with him. Before Stiles' died he was fine. We weren't friends or anything, but if–well, he's my neighbor. If I ever needed anything he helped me out."
Stiles is taken aback by Isaac's words and he knows the surprise shows on his face. It's clear Isaac doesn't know Stiles is aware of his home situation, but it doesn't matter. He couldn't picture Jackson coming to Isaac's rescue, and he certainly didn't think Scott was aware of this.
"Isaac, I understand grief better than most people. It doesn't justify his actions toward you, man. It doesn't. If he had your back in the past he should have it now."
"Maybe, but like I said, Jackson isn't a bad guy. You can't be friends with Scott McCall and be a bad person. I think it's against the laws of nature or something." Stiles smiles. "I think–I think that this is how Jackson deals with grief, and if being an outlet is what he needs then I guess that's what I'll do."
"Isaac you are not Jackson Whitmore's punching bag no matter how much grief his is dealing with. If he was as good of a person as you say he wouldn't deal with his grief like this."
"Maybe he just needs someone to teach him that."
'Maybe he does,' Stiles thinks.
Stiles feels some of the tension drain out of his body as he and Isaac walk onto the field. Derek's presence is close. Sure enough, by the time Coach has blown the first whistle Derek is sitting in the stands with Cora and a blushing Erica. Derek finds his gaze, and waves with a genuine grin. Stiles can't imagine any of this without him. He lets some of the magic wrapped around Erica extend to Derek. Maybe, with Derek so close he can make it through practice without committing murder.
That hope is quickly dashed when Jackson goes out of his way to tackle Isaac after the first whistle. Stiles begins to doubt even Derek can keep him from ripping Jackson apart by the end of this. He looks to Scott who seems to feel the unease on the field. Scott knows Isaac is meant to be a part of the pack and he feels just as protective over Isaac as Stiles.
Stiles' anger is mounting to all new levels of 'pissed as hell' when he helps Isaac up from the ground for the fourth time after he has been body-checked by Jackson. When Jackson isn't trying to take Stiles down he is all over Isaac, who has started to limp after the last hit. He knows Derek can sense his anger. Hell, the rest of the field can sense it.
Stiles can see Erica and Derek sitting with identical frowns on their faces. Lydia and Allison are centered right behind the practice benches with similar looks of worry plastered across their features. Coach seems to be reveling in the violence as usual, but even Stiles can sense layer of concern under the amusement.
Isaac is wincing as they make their way back to starting positions. Stiles doesn't know how much longer he can let Jackson go unchecked. He looks over to Scott. Stiles can see his pinched expression behind his helmet. If Jackson body checks Isaac again it will injure him enough to keep him out of practice. That means more time that Isaac has to spend with his father. Stiles refuses to let that happen.
He can sense the anger coming off Jackson in waves as he passes. Jackson knows he can't take down Stiles and retain his dignity. Isaac in the next best outlet. What he doesn't realize is that Stiles has a very short fuse when it comes to these things. If Stiles really wants to he can take Jackson out for the rest of the season. Permanently, if he loses control.
Coach is looking at them in something of confusion, but Stiles can't really understand how he can be confused as to what is going on right now. It just pisses him off more. Stiles gives Isaac's shoulder a quick squeeze and gets back into position. He is focused solely on Jackson, who seems to be doing the same to Isaac.
The coach calls out commands that Stiles doesn't bother to listen to because he knows exactly where this is headed. He can see the confirmation in Jackson's eyes as he looks determinedly at Isaac. Stiles is not going to let Isaac be checked again. No way in hell.
The whistle blows shrill in his ears. Jackson heads straight for Isaac and Stiles goes for Jackson. Some of their teammates stop when they realize what is about to happen, but Stiles doesn't care. All he cares about is getting to Jackson before he can take Isaac down. Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see Derek charging onto the field, but even if Derek could use his alpha speed he wouldn't reach Stiles before he gets to Jackson.
When Stiles slams into his side, Jackson goes down hard. They roll a few feet, Jackson struggling to get the upper hand on Stiles. Blades of grass and dirt fly into the air as they both yank off their helmets and scramble to their feet. Jackson comes at Stiles grass stained and sweating, but Stiles is one step ahead of him. When Jackson swings Stiles ducks and spears him to the ground, causing Jackson to grunt in pain. Stiles rears up and just as he is about to swing down to land a punch to Jackson's face Derek grabs his arm and pulls him up.
Stiles is still struggling to get to Jackson as Derek wraps both arms around his torso and squeezes tight from behind. Derek's lips are at his ear mumbling words that Stiles can't quite make out through his rage as he watches Scott manhandle Jackson several feet away.
Eventually, Derek's words become clear. Stiles relaxes into Derek's chest, his eyes closing as his hands come up to rest on Derek's arms as he pants heavily.
"He was going for Isaac and I couldn't–" he starts.
"I know." Derek's hold tightens and he rests his forehead on Stiles' temple. "I probably would have done worse. Just, calm down. Your magic is everywhere."
Stiles turns a bit and presses his forehead to Derek's. Magic crackles through the air like static, and the scent of ozone is strong.
"I can't pull it back."
"Just breathe. You can do it. Use me, use the pack."
Derek holds him tighter and Stiles takes in several deep breaths. His magic finally starts to settle, content to wrap around the two closest, Derek and Isaac, for the time being. He hears a surprised intake of breath from Isaac, but he can't address it now.
When Stiles manages to pull away from Derek, He realizes that most everyone has left the field with the exception of a few. Coach stands not too far away with a surprised look on his face but doesn't interrupt the scene unfolding before them.
"What the hell is your problem, Jackson?!" Scott asks as he shoves Jackson further back from his pack. "I get that your pissed, but stop trying to take it out on Isaac! He hasn't done anything. Your problem is with Stilinski. Which is stupid."
"You're taking Stilinski's side, Scott? You saw him tackle me. He started the fight!"
Scott lowers his voice and Stiles has to strain to hear him. "Stilinski is part– is a friend, and you're being a dick! As your friend, it is my job to remind you when you're being a dick."
"Don't," Jackson says fiercely. "Don't take their side when they're convinced that I'm a self-absorbed jerk, Scott. You know me. I'm one of your best friends!"
"You haven't really given them any reasons to think otherwise! You're not acting like you anymore." Scott's voice softens, "Just because Stiles is gone doesn't mean you are allowed to break your promises to him."
Jackson looks as if Scott punched him.
"We also promised each other that we would watch out for you! But he's gone! He left me here on my own, and I can't keep that promise if I'm hum–weak!" Jackson's voice is loud enough that he knows Isaac caught the stumble. He avoids looking in his direction.
"If you would have just told them that instead of acting like a big jerk things would have gone a lot smoother. But no! You had to go and just be a dick! I was ready to tackle you, Jackson," Scott says and Jackson's eyes snap back to him. Surprise and hurt flashing before anger takes their place.
"Every time you checked Isaac I felt like you were attacking me. Imagine how Stilinski felt since he knew you were doing it because you couldn't get to him. I'm your friend, Jackson, one of your best friends, but you can't expect me to take your side when you're wrong, and you were wrong to go after Isaac when it is Stilinski you have the problem with. A problem that could have easily been avoided."
Stiles expects Jackson to fire back with a nasty comment or tackle Scott but he doesn't. He doesn't do anything Stiles expects him to do. Instead, Stiles watches in awe as Jackson drops his mask. The grief he has been avoiding finally showing in his eyes. He watches Jackson clutch at the black strip of fabric resting under the yellow captain's band on his arm.
Scott pulls Jackson into his arms and Stiles is even more shocked to watch him clutch Scott with every bit of strength he has in return. Danny wraps his arms around Jackson from behind. The picture it makes is foreign to Stiles, but the players and spectators in the stands quieten as they watch.
"It isn't fair, Scott," Jackson mumbles into his shoulder. "He is supposed to be here on the field with us. He supposed to keep Lydia from hating me. He is supposed to be here and he isn't! Why should I keep the promises I made to him if he broke all of his when he left us here?"
"Jesus, Jackson," Scott says, his voice wet with tears. "He didn't leave us on purpose. He wouldn't if he had had a choice. I get that you're angry but, dude–he wouldn't want this. He wouldn't want you hurting people. Not Isaac, and not Stilinski. Especially not Isaac."
Jackson clutches tighter at Scott. "He was our best friend, man, and now he's gone and I can't–I can't, Scott. He held us all together."
Stiles winces. He can't help it. He thought Lydia's grief would be the hardest to deal with, but he was wrong. He leans further into Derek's side and glances over at Isaac who isn't watching Scott and Jackson, but him.
Stiles knows his emotions are all over his face. He had assumed that Jackson was just like the one from his own universe. He knows now that he was wrong. Jackson is not the same. He is just as different as the others, maybe even more so. The truth of it is shocking and if Derek's arms weren't wrapped so tightly around him he would be falling to his knees, the weight of the truth pulling him down.
Isaac raises an eyebrow. Derek tugs Stiles toward the sidelines, one arm still wrapped firmly around his waist. Erica is waiting with a worried expression, her books cradled tightly to her chest. Coach meets them halfway and lays a hand on Stiles' shoulder.
"I'm letting it go just this once because I've been waiting for this moment. The kid has been about to break for weeks."
It isn't until the coach says the words that it dawns on Stiles. They are kids. Jackson, Scott, Lydia, all of them. They are all just kids recently touched by loss. None of them know grief as well as him and Derek. He hopes that none of them ever have to face the things they faced. The loss, the fear, and utter heartwrenching sadness of it all. No, Stiles hopes he can keep all of them kids for as long as possible.
Coach looks Derek up and down. "Do you go to school here?"
Derek frowns. "No."
"Damn, you would have made a hell of a player." Coach slaps Stiles on the back. "I can't deal with all these emotions. Practice is over for the day," he says.
The relief after the announcement is nearly a tangible thing as everyone makes there way off the field. Isaac follows behind Stiles and Derek quietly and stands next to Erica once they reach the sidelines.
Looking at them now, standing so awkwardly next to each other, makes the memory of them in leather jackets and black seem like a strange dream. Derek gives Stiles' waist one more squeeze before letting go.
"Isaac, this is Derek Hale," Stiles says sheepishly.
Derek extends his hand. He doesn't smile, but Derek doesn't smile for anyone except Stiles nowadays. Isaac seems to welcome the gesture all the same.
"Are you related to Cora?" Isaac asks.
Jackson passes them not saying a word. He is walking toward the locker rooms, a calmer presence surrounding him.
"Distantly," Derek replies as Scott approaches with a sheepish Danny in toe.
Derek posture stiffens immediately. Stiles fits himself firmly to Derek's side without thinking. Derek's arm wraps around his waist tighter than normal as he glares at Danny.
"Uh–Danny this is Derek. Derek this is Danny, who is harmless." Stiles turns a little more into Derek's hold to whisper into his ear. "Pretend to be harmless and turn off the Alpha glare. I can smell his fear from here."
"Good," Derek grumbles none too quietly, "he should be scared."
"I–didn't know that–" Danny starts as he looks worriedly between Derek and Stiles.
"Now you do," Derek bites out.
Stiles looks between the two of them. Confusion takes over his brain, and instead of questioning the exchange he lets it go. Danny's heart is beating like a rabbit and Derek is holding him tight enough to bruise a normal human.
Scott slaps a hand on Danny's shoulder with a whispered, "I tried to tell you, man."
Cora steps up to them with a bright smile.
"It was nice getting to know you, Erica," she says, "But I have to be getting home. I promised Laura that I would help her and mom with a few things. I'll see you guys tomorrow."
She heads off toward the parking lot where Stiles can hear the rumble of the Camero's engine. Scott and Isaac don't do anything more than wave before making their way after Jackson. Derek's hold on him loosens as Danny and Scott leave. Stiles traces his fingers over the tattoo between Derek's shoulder blades and smiles when some of his tension melts away from Derek's body.
"Well," remarks Stiles, "Let's get going. Derek and I have some explaining to do. Besides, Isaac has to tell us exactly when it was that he fell in love with Jackson."