We are the fire, we see how they run:
"What's wrong?" Ted asks you, coming into the backroom and clearly noticing you glaring down at your phone.
"Nothing," you say, more bad-temperedly than you probably should. Ted found out you were sneaking in Isaac so that he could shower in the locker room and hadn't told your boss after all. He's an okay guy, even if he does wear a purity ring and talk about his church volunteer group too much.
You stick your phone back in your bag, grab your red float and head back outside, the text still floating in front of your eyes.
Can I talk to you after work today?
Which would be fine, except for the fact that it's from Scott. Which probably means it's about the Alpha Pack. And could he be any more cryptic?
It's been a week since Erica and Boyd were rescued, and you haven't had any contact with either of them, or Scott. You knew you'd eventually get drawn into whatever mess is going on again, but you hoped it wouldn't be so soon. It'd be nice to get a break for once. And you'd...you'd been reconsidering if you should get involved at all. Maybe if you and Isaac just stayed out of it, they'd ignore you.
Scott won't stay out of it, though.
"Hey," Scott says, getting up from the concrete ledge he's sitting on by the pool's entrance when you come out after your shift is over. He's wearing a black tanktop and jeans, but for some reason he seems very naked. You try not to look at his biceps. "You get my text?"
"Yeah," you say, and try to ignore the twinge of guilt when you realize you didn't respond. "What happened?"
"What happened?" he repeats, looking confused. "Oh, no, nothing new, I just wanted to talk with you about something."
"Okay," you say, raising your eyebrows expectantly, a little annoyed at him for making you worry that something bad had happened.
"Um, can we go somewhere?" he asks, looking uncomfortably at a group of happy middle school girls passing by you to get into the pool.
"Okay," you sigh, and try not to look exasperated. You just want to get this over with. It's uncomfortable being alone with him.
You walk down the sidewalk a bit to the unofficial picnic area outside of the pool. It's sort of gross, weeds sprouting everywhere from the cracks in the pavement and the benches look like they might collapse if you so much as put a drink on top of them. You can't imagine anyone actually eats here.
"It's about Isaac," Scott says awkwardly, to your surprise, sticking his hands in his pockets. "I was wondering why you didn't want his dad to find out he was in the hospital."
That's it? He came here specifically to talk about that?
"That's not really any of your business," you try to say as politely as possible.
This, unsurprisingly, does not deter him. "It's just that I asked my mom about it and she said when they called him he refused to come in," Scott presses, looking extremely serious. "Why would he say that? What's going on with Isaac and his dad?"
His dad is a disgusting piece of shit who deserves a knife to the gut and a long slow death, you think.
"I don't know," you lie, inwardly wincing a bit when you realize of course he'll be able to tell.
He almost looks disappointed in you.
"And then," he continues, an edge to his voice now. "At Derek's, after Isaac woke up, Derek asked him where he was living and Isaac said "Around.""
Shit.
"So?"
He scowls. "What do you mean, so? What's going on? Did his dad kick him out? Is he homeless?"
"That's not really any of your business," you say again, quietly, and fold your arms over your chest uncomfortably. You don't want to be having this conversation, especially with him. There's nothing he can do, so what's the point?
"Allison," he says, looking stupidly betrayed. "This is...I mean, is he okay? Why isn't he living with his parents?"
The worst part about it is that you really do want to tell him. You want him to know that Isaac wasn't some dumb teenager who thought being a werewolf sounded fun and that's why he said yes to Derek. He said yes because he thought it would keep him safe from his father's fists.
"Look, this doesn't have anything to do with you," you tell him, aware that you're confirming his suspicions by refusing to give him a straight answer. "I'm handling it."
He does not look reassured. In fact, he looks more than a little annoyed, but he presses his lips together tightly instead of pressing you further.
"Okay..." he says dubiously, looking irritatingly conflicted.
Why do you even care? you want to ask him. He barely knows Isaac. They seem to get along better now, but it's not like they're friends or anything. And you have a lot more important things to deal with than Isaac's housing situation.
"Is that it?" you say, more harshly than you mean to. You want to be done with this conversation.
"Yeah, that's it," he says quietly, worry still etched into his expression.
"Okay, call me if anything happens," you tell him tersely, and then turn to leave.
It's such a relief when he doesn't call after you.
You think that's it, that it's over, but you probably should have known better. You're hanging out with Isaac at the library on your off day a couple days later when Isaac says: "So, I sort of had a weird conversation with Scott the other day."
You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Isaac kind of really likes Scott. You don't really understand it, but he seems to look up to him and as far as you can tell, in his eyes Scott can do no wrong. It doesn't really make sense-they barely know each other. You know they meet up once and a while to discuss the Alpha Pack and as a result Isaac talks about him all the time. It is extremely annoying.
"Yeah?"
"He...asked me to live with him."
"What?" you say, turning to look at him in shock, but he's idly picking at a thread on the bean bag he's sitting on and avoiding your gaze. "What did you say?"
He does look up at you at that. "No?" he replies, looking vaguely confused. "I mean, c'mon, I couldn't...with his mom, you know..."
"Yeah," you say quickly, relieved that he realized what a terrible idea that would be. The relief quickly turns to anger though. What was Scott thinking, offering something like that when there was no chance of delivery? What if Isaac said yes and he got his hopes up all for nothing?
"I think he just wanted to help," Isaac says, no doubt noticing your angry expression. "He just didn't really think it through, I guess."
You lean forward give him an awkward one-armed hug. "I'm sorry," you mutter, irritated at Scott's interference.
"It's okay," Isaac mumbles into your shoulder, sounding a little embarrassed. "I don't really know why he asked anyway. We're not friends or anything."
He sounds a little sad about that and you tamp down your annoyance at the fact that he wants the attention and approval of other people. It's really not fair.
Instead, you focus most of your anger on Scott. What an idiot, you think derisively. How could he ask some homeless werewolf teenager to come live with him and his parents and think it would all work out?
"You have to convince Isaac he should come live with me," Scott says when he calls you a day later.
"Scott, he can't live with you," you say angrily, sitting back in your desk chair and glaring at your laptop screen. "You should never have asked him that-I told you to stay out of it."
"Why not?" he says, sounding genuinely confused, and God, this is a disaster, you can't believe he doesn't understand why it would never work out. "I mean, Allison, he's sleeping in an empty warehouse. What is he going to do when it gets colder?"
Isaac. Why would he tell him that? You need to have a talk with him about not encouraging Scott's well-meaning, but ultimately useless interference in his life. You know he wants to be friends with Scott, though you don't really understand why he decided that all of the sudden, but he should know better than to start telling Scott everything about his life. He better not tell him about his dad. God knows what he would do with that information.
"Well, what about, you know, your mother?" you say cruelly, clenching your phone unnecessarily hard next to your ear. "You think she's going to be okay with some homeless teenage werewolf moving into her house?"
"Uh, yes," he says. "I mean, I asked her and she said it was okay."
"What?" you say after a pause, because that's... what? "Why?"
"Because he's homeless?" Scott says, sounding just as bewildered as you feel. "And I mean, we have an extra room that used to be my dad's office."
What is wrong with your family? you think. It isn't just Scott who's too nice for his own good apparently. It's his mom too.
"I..." you say, completely thrown, because never in a million years would you have suspected that Scott's mom would be fine with some random teenage boy moving into her house. Your parents would never do that, and to be honest, you agree with them. How could Scott's mom feel safe, agreeing to let some stranger live in her house? "What, what about your dad?"
"My parents are divorced, he doesn't live with us."
Is this really happening? you wonder, your heart beginning to pound, and you sit up straighter in your desk chair. Could this really work? You desperately want it to, because, God, Isaac deserves to sleep in a bed and have someplace to shower, but he has two more years of high school. He couldn't stay there that entire time, could he? Scott's mom couldn't be willing to make that sort of commitment, not when you don't think she's ever even met Isaac.
"Scott," you say carefully. "I...my parents know Isaac's a werewolf. And if they find out he's living with you...they might start to suspect you too."
"Yeah," he says without pause. "I guess, but we can deal with it if that happens. I just...I mean, he shouldn't be homeless."
You agree, of course, but you still feel wary. This seems too good to be true. You want to warn him of the risks, that maybe his mom won't like Isaac or your parents might start poking around, but you don't. You want this to work.
"Allison?" he says when you're quiet too long.
"Let me think about it," you hedge, biting your lip, because this cannot be a snap decision, no matter how much you want it to be.
"Okay," Scott says, surprising you by not pushing.
"I'll talk to you later," you say, and hang up before he can say anything else that will distract you. You have a lot to think about.
Are you being naïve? you think that night, staring up at your bedroom ceiling. Is there a chance this could really work or are you kidding yourself? Letting your feelings for Isaac cloud your judgment. It's two years until he's out of high school, a year and a half until he's eighteen. That's a long time. If it doesn't work out...
Nothing. He'll just be back to square one. Isaac deserves to have a bed, access to running water, a permanent place to stay without worrying about a new shipment of goods coming in or your parents or the Alpha Pack. Even if it's only for a little while, it's worth it. You can do this.
"We should not be doing this here," Isaac groans into your neck, unhooking your bra and smoothing his hands down your bare back.
"Shut up," you tell him with a grin and pull him further back on the bed in one of Lydia's many guest rooms.
"If they hear-"
"They're on the other side of the house, they're not going to hear," you tell him, tugging at his belt. His objections would probably be a lot more believable if he wasn't trying to push your jeans down your legs.
Isaac groans when you pull him down on top of you and you grab the headboard to stop it from hitting against the wall when he starts fucking you, the sounds of your gasps very loud in the dark room. Still, it's very doubtful that Lydia or her mother will hear you. And to be honest, as long as you're not obnoxious, you don't think they'd care that you're having sex. Neither of them seem to have the same misgivings about teenagers having sex that your parents definitely do. Which is good for you and Isaac. In general, though, you're not too sure.
"Umph, Allison," Isaac grunts in your ear, adjusting your legs around his waist. He takes his left hand off your boob and slides it down your stomach between your legs. "Uh, here?" he asks, thumbing your clit hesitantly.
"Uh, don't worry about it," you tell him, letting go of the headboard and pulling him down to kiss you.
"But, I can, if you just...is this okay?" he says between kisses, pressing down on your clit like he thinks it's a button.
You turn your head to the side automatically when he starts kissing your neck, but you can't stop yourself from rolling your eyes. He is not going to be able to get you off. You have a hard enough time getting yourself off sometimes and expecting him to just magically know the exact pressure and rhythm to make you come is completely unrealistic. You don't understand why he cares anyway. You're not Lydia; you're still going to sleep with him if he can't get you off.
"Isaac, it's fine," you groan as he touches you far too gently to actually do anything. "I'll do it later, just...don't worry about it."
"But," Isaac says and then actually stops, pulling back to look at you with a confused frown on his face. "I want to...you know. If you just show me..."
Oh, my God, you think. Is this why women fake orgasms?
"Just," you say in frustration, trying to get him to start moving again. "It's not going to happen. I just have to do it myself."
"Oh," Isaac says, looking disappointed and you have to hold back the sudden anger at this reaction. It's your body. It's got nothing to do with him. "Can you, can you show me then?"
You stare at him incredulously, because the look on his face shows that he clearly doesn't understand how weird of a request that is.
"Just, leave it," you say in frustration and squeeze around him to distract him.
"Ngh," Isaac grunts, eyes fluttering shut with pleasure and face reddening even further. "Cheater."
"Come. On." you order, reaching down to get him moving again, because, seriously, you ache, except you end up grabbing his ass instead of his hip. It's kind of weird and you almost let go, but Isaac moans and thrusts into you helplessly. Huh.
"Don't do that, c'mon," he says and then rolls you over so that you're on top. You groan at the change in angle and brace your hands on his shoulders, hair falling down and getting in your eyes briefly.
He grabs your hip with one hand and tentatively fingers at your clit with his other. "Just let me...just tell me what to do."
"Really?" you say, glaring down at him, exasperated when he grips your hip to keep you from riding him. "That's what you want to do right now?"
"Yes," Isaac says back stubbornly, though the uneven timber of his sex voice and his sweaty face kind of ruin the effect. "Tell me what to do."
Shit, you think as your muscles give another spasm, completely involuntary this time, because that, with that look on his face, with him under you, that really turns you on.
"Ugh, fine, c'mon," you say, while Isaac throws back his head and moans, because you want this terrible conversation to be over. Who stops having sex to talk? Who does that? "Just rub here, no, your pointer finger's fine and harder. Okay, yeah, that's good."
It's nice, you guess. The pressure on your clit certainly isn't bad, but it's not great. It's frustrating and makes you want to pull his fingers away and do it properly, but Isaac comes before it gets unbearable, leaving you squirming uncomfortably next to him while he pants into your neck. Mostly it makes you really, really want to get off. You usually wait until you get home to masturbate, but right now you're ridiculously wet and you don't think you can wait until you get home tomorrow morning. Damn him, this is probably what he wanted all along.
"C'mon," Isaac pants, rolling over muzzily to kiss your boobs and resuming his useless rubbing between your legs. "Show me what to do."
"Fine," you say furiously and pull his hand away from you clit. "Do something useful with those, like before." You spread your legs and little and resist the urge to moan when he gets his fingers inside you. It's not as good as his dick, but at least it's something. "Now just, do what you did befo- uh, hah, yeah, that's..."
You know he's watching you, which you hate, but you reach down and rub your clit just the right way, so wet it's kind of hard to get any decent friction.
"C'mon, c'mon," Isaac says lowly, lapping at your nipples and squeezing your boobs with his free hand. Your eyes are screwed shut with concentration, but you know he's watching you, dammit. Probably enjoying your idiotic expression because he's a dick like that. "C'mon, just-"
You're loud when you come. You practically wail and dig your nails into his left shoulder, arching your hips up for more and squeezing over and over again around his fingers. And it's...it's good. Really really good. It's like your entire body has lit up, every nerve overloaded with pleasure.
You feel ridiculously lightheaded when you sag back against the pillow, and have to blink a couple time to clear your vision. God. You're exhausted, but you kinda want to do it again.
"Shit, do you think they heard?" you say in horror, sitting up to look at the closed doorway of Lydia's guest room warily, heart still hammering in your chest. God, that would be so humiliating. Lydia would never let you hear the end of it and what if Lydia's mom-
"They're both still asleep, c'mere," Isaac says, pulling you back down and kissing you quickly. He looks very happy, throwing an arm over your waist possessively and stroking your hair behind your ear.
"What?" you say, bemused by his triumphant grin. He's not usually like this after sex; usually he's very quiet and falls asleep shortly after you're done.
"You were really loud," he says with a snort of laughter and a smirk, groping your ass and leaning over you to nip at your neck. "Bet you we'd have gotten a noise complaint at the motel."
Shame floods through you and you feel your face burn with humiliation. You seal your lips shut to prevent yourself from saying anything that would make things worse and stiffen up when his lips touch your neck. You're such an idiot. God, he probably thinks you're such a slut. You knew this was a bad idea. It was better to remain in control and get yourself off in peace than making a fool of yourself in front of him.
"I'll be right back," you say when he pulls back, pushing yourself out of bed and heading into the bathroom without even stopping to pick up your clothes.
You pee and then just sort of sit helplessly on the toilet seat, trying to not to cry. Stop being so emotional, you tell yourself, rubbing your eyes furiously. It doesn't matter, it's done. You know better than to do it again now.
You don't want to go back out there. You want to go home, to the safety of your room, and God, that's ironic. Usually you can't stand being there, but now you yearn for the idea of being left alone. Maybe if you stay in here long enough he'll be asleep when you come out and you can sneak out. It's mean to just leave him there, you know, but the idea of facing him makes you feel like you're going to throw up.
You wipe away the slick between your thighs and flush for lack of anything better to do and then sit down against the wall next to the bathtub miserably. You wish you had your clothes. The tile floor is really cold.
You rest your head on your knees and try to breathe through the sudden crushing misery in your chest for a while. You hate that you feel this way. It doesn't make sense. But you can't help it. You just feel so humiliated.
"Allison?" Isaac's voice comes through the door after a couple minutes, followed by the soft rapping of his knuckles. "Are you okay?"
"Fine," you say and then cringe at how weak your voice sounds.
"Are you...are you going to come out?" he asks hesitantly.
"In a bit," you say, managing to sound normal this time, looking up at the ceiling in an attempt to prevent your eyes from watering.
There is silence for a couple seconds and then you hear the doorknob turn. You look away from the door at the lavender shower curtain so you don't have to look at him. He doesn't say anything for a moment and then you hear him slowly approach you, sitting down next to you under the towel rack.
"Allison," he says when you don't acknowledge him, sounding worried. "What's wrong?"
You let your head fall against his-clothed-shoulder, surprising even yourself. It's easier than you thought to be around him. As long as he's not mocking you.
"I feel really stupid," you whisper and immediately regret it. You never regret the things you don't say. You should know better by now than to open your mouth.
"Why?" Isaac says, sounding confused.
You laughed at me, you think. Except he didn't. Not really. He hadn't meant to, which probably means it didn't count. But still, you were so loud. Isaac is always quiet, even when he comes. It's so humiliating.
I think I have more intimacy issues than I previously thought, you think. You wonder if your therapist could tell you what's wrong with you. Not that you could ever tell her about this, even if you weren't worried about your parents finding out about you having sex.
"I thought," Isaac says hesitantly. "Did I do something wrong?"
You close your eyes and shake your head against his shoulder.
"No," you whisper, because if you talked any louder you think you'd start to cry. "I'm kind of messed up."
He tentatively wraps his arms around your shoulder and you let him, sagging against him and hiding you face in his neck. "It's okay," he says.
It's not, but you let him walk you back to the bed and wrap you up in the 400 thread count sheets. You don't feel the desire to be alone anymore-on the contrary, you want to curl up in him as much as possible-and you're not worried that he thinks you're badly of you anymore.
But you still feel stupid.
You feel better in the morning. You're a still little embarrassed, but now mostly because of your overreaction last night. For a while you don't do anything but lie on his chest, your upper body rising and falling with his. It's eight in the morning and Lydia and her mother will probably be up soon, so if you want to talk it has to be now.
"Isaac, wake up," you say, propping yourself up over him and shaking his shoulder.
Isaac's body gives a little panicked jerk and his eyes snap open alarmingly fast, but he relaxes when he sees it's you smiling down at him.
"Hey," he says hoarsely, rubbing sleep out of his eyes and looking away from you. "What time is it?"
"Eight," you say, frowning at the fact he won't meet your gaze.
"Okay," he mutters and rolls over away from you so he can sit up.
You stare at his back, heart dropping when you realize what he's doing. Suddenly, you can see the next few weeks quite clearly: Isaac refusing to touch you, avoiding your gaze, and in general being miserable because he thought he did something wrong. And you can't have that.
You shift forward without thinking much about it and wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your still-naked body against his clothed back.
"Hey," you murmur, feeling him tense up. You kiss his ear and drop your hand down to the morning wood in his boxers. It's funny how you used to be so disgusted by it.
"Allison, what-" he says, stiffening at your touch (in more ways than one.) "What are you- uh." He takes a sharp breath. "Mm, okay, that's... Allison."
You touch him like that for a while, kissing his neck while he shakes and breathes heavily, and then pull him around on top of you. You're not...totally in the mood, especially after last night, but you know you can't leave it like this. You have to fix it .
Isaac kisses you hungrily for a few moments, but then he pulls back and starts his mantra of Are you sure? You really want to do this? We don't have to. It's okay if you don't want to. He hasn't said anything like this in months and it annoys you, especially because you know you're the cause.
"Yeah, I'm good, c'mon," you say tightly, pushing his shirt up to his armpits. He raises his arms dutifully and lets you pull it off, but he looks worriedly down at you, lips curved in an uncertain frown.
"C'mon," you tell him, tugging him back down on top of you and kiss him, because it's the only thing you can think of to do. You grope at the nightstand for the condoms, but the lube is in your purse on the floor. And, well...you're definitely going to need that.
You end up having to get up to get it and when you turn back to the bed Isaac looks even more anxious than before, face tight with worry.
"C'mon," you say, as gently as possible, sitting down next to him and kissing him. "It's fine."
"It is?" Isaac says, looking at you like he doesn't understand you at all. "Because last night you were really..."
You feel your cheeks flush in shame and you glare down at the bedspread, too uncomfortable to look at him. Why did he have to bring that up? Why can't he just do what you want for once instead of always...talking. You know he wants to fuck you. Why does he always pretend he doesn't?
"I was just...embarrassed," you admit finally, forcing the words out between gritted teeth.
"Why?" Isaac says, ducking his head down to look into your face, sounding bewildered.
You just were? It's different for Isaac, you know, which is why it's probably so hard for him to understand. Isaac likes being told what to do, being held down, losing control. You...don't.
You shrug and kiss him, sidling up close to him on the bed. "Can you just," you say, breaking the kiss and pressing your forehead against his. "Please?"
It physically pains you to get the word out, but Isaac melts immediately, face going very soft. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, and then down onto the bed, stroking his hands down your sides gently. Impatient, you pull his boxers off and wrap your legs around his waist.
"God, Allison, I-" Isaac moans, grabbing for the condom.
"C'mon, just-" you say in frustration, gripping at his shoulders. "Just hurry up!"
Isaac shuts his mouth and keeps it shut. He doesn't say anything even when he starts fucking you, and he presses his face into your neck and doesn't move his hands from your hips.
This is not fixing it, you realize in annoyance, clutching his head with one hand and his shoulder with the other. At this rate it's just going to make it worse. So you think, screw it, and give him what he wants, taking his right hand and drawing it down between your legs, guiding it to just the right pressure.
It's pathetic how much it actually works. Isaac raises his head and looks down at you with renewed interest and you have to close your eyes to get away from his fascinated look. You vaguely wonder if he'd be able to tell if you faked an orgasm, but that doesn't end up being necessary. The second you feel it building up between your legs, causing you to grip his hand and push it down harder, you clamp your mouth shut and press you face into his shoulder to prevent the mistake you made last night.
Still, it's good, even better than last night in some ways because he's still hard and inside you and you get to clench around him over and over as pleasure courses through you. It seems to last longer too, and by the time you fall back onto the sheets your toes ache with curling for so long. You gasp for breath, feeling lightheaded and dizzy, and it takes you a second to register Isaac moaning and thrusting into you harder. And that's actually, ow, kind of uncomfortable, and you pull his hand off your clit with a wince. Thankfully he comes with only a few more thrusts, a shocked "Allison!" ripping itself from his mouth before he collapses on top of you with a grunt.
You blink dazedly up at the ceiling and try to breathe as calmly as possible, even though it feels like you can't get enough air into your lungs. Wow. That is definitely the way to do it.
"Oh, my God," Isaac moans into your neck and you can't help but agree.
After a minute things start to get uncomfortable and you worry that the condom's going to leak, so you push on his shoulder to get him off you. Even that takes effort and you find yourself way too exhausted to even sit up while he ties off the condom and throws it in the trash (you have to remember to take that with you when you leave.)
"Okay," you say when he comes back to lie down next to you. "Wow."
Isaac's face breaks into a grin and he pulls you over onto your side to kiss you. You're both bright red and sweaty, even your chest and stomach are red with exertion, and you don't think that's happened before.
"See?" Isaac says smugly as you wrap an arm around his side and sag into his shoulder, heartbeat still fast. "I told you."
You grumble in response and then smile when he pulls the covers you'd kicked down to the end of the bed up around you.
He ducks down to kiss you, cupping your face in his hands and he's still grinning when he pulls back to look at you. With a twinge, you realize you've never seen him so happy after sex.
You told Scott you'd convince Isaac to move in with him, but you can do that tomorrow, you think, snuggling into him further. You've had enough drama for one day.
A/N: More dysfunction! But, hey, at least Isaac is going to move in with Scott. Please review!