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Chapter 4: (Not so) complicated

Isaac isn't quite sure how he's managed to get stuck in the back seat, again, this time with Stiles and Allison as Lydia takes the passenger seat and Scott drives for the last stretch to the cabin. And yet, there he is, crammed behind the driver, his knees pressed uncomfortably against the seat as his back bitches and aches from the small amount of wiggle room.

Isaac grunts; they're stuck in traffic, have been for the past half hour. "Are we far away from this damn cabin?"

He can practically feel Scott's half smile before he briefly sees it reflected in the car door mirror. "Almost, we just have to get through this one tunnel up ahead and then it's smooth sailing. Twenty-five minutes after that?" He guesses and Stiles nods a little next to him in agreement.

Twenty-five minutes after traffic and a tunnel…okay, he can do this. He's made it this far, he can take a little bit more (he's not sure whether he's more annoyed or reassured that that's a statement he practically lives by at this point). He's had to deal with worse so he shifts down in his seat, tries to get as comfortable as possible, and buckles down for the remaining miles. He's tired anyways; he can feel it rest heavily in his eye sockets as his temples throb when he sets his head back against the seat. He hadn't exactly gotten a lot of sleep between his nightmare, the pool and well, Scott. Which is totally something he shouldn't be thinking about right now because a pang of arousal leaves his pores and he can feel it fill up the entire small space of the jeep, Scott glancing back at him through the rearview mirror for a moment. Isaac shifts, squashes the sensation and makes it disappear because the last thing Scott needs to feel is Isaac getting turned on in this damn jeep surrounded by other people while he's trying to fucking drive.

He lets out a long breath, shakes his head when all Scott does is smirk and runs his hands along his thighs as he looks out the window. His phone buzzes and he takes a moment to slide his body up enough to reach inside his pocket to fish it out.

It's a text message…from Stiles.

STILES 3:33 PM
You two are ridiculous, I'm not even a werewolf and I can tell what's going on.

Isaac frowns and is about to look over at the idiot next to him but another text vibrates his phone. He puts his cell on silent because…how many people does Isaac really text, honestly? He guesses he could say it was Boyd, if he had to, but he'd really rather not draw attention to himself.

STILES 3:34 PM
Don't /look/ at me. Haven't you ever seen James Bond? Covert ops communication, man.

Isaac rolls his eyes and types.

ISAAC 3:35 PM
I've never seen any of those. Why are you texting me?

Stiles grunts and glances at Allison when she looks over at him. "Temple Run." He explains weakly, like he lost a level and then types feverishly.

STILES 3:37 PM
What is it with you and Scott not seeing timeless classics? Star Wars and James Bond, you two really are a great pair.

Isaac lets out a short breath which is mostly just air through his nose; he leans his head against the window and texts back in a slow manner that is possibly (probably) pissing Stiles off.

ISAAC 3:40 PM
My dad didn't have much of a movie collection, Stilinski. Why are you using up my phone battery?

STILES 3:43 PM
I'm just saying, if you don't want anyone to know about you two, stop giving one another heart eyes like some sort of romantic comedy before you run off to kiss in the rain. It's gross.

Isaac snorts, which is rather loud, and he awkwardly turns the noise into a few coughs.

"You okay?" Scott asks, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel as Lydia fiddles with the radio knob.

Isaac nods softly, blushing a little as he looks down at his phone and mumbles out that he's fine before staring at the screen. He's not sure what he should reply back with, but he knows if he doesn't that he'll never hear (or at least receive a few intense glares) the end of it. It seems too long and hard to explain; they're trying to hide what they're doing because all of it is one long test track, one road with a constant 'under construction' blinking sign. He glances up at the windshield to survey all the cars nearly at a parked standstill, occasionally honking. One car stuck in traffic with no hint of relief yet.

That's what it feels like.

Not that he's willing to explain any of that to Stiles.

ISAAC 3:48 PM
It's complicated.

That seems like a simple enough answer that'll squash the conversation but Stiles rapid fires another response in a matter of a minute.

STILES 3:49 PM
He's just scared, you know.

Isaac sighs, runs a hand over his face because yeah, he knows that. He knows that and there's absolutely nothing he can do to prevent or change it. Isaac knows fear like an old friend; it kisses and hugs his body in a cold embrace when he steps into a small room, when he wakes with sweat dripping down his back and his father's voice ringing in his ears. But just because he knows what being scared feels like so well doesn't mean he knows how to take it away from someone he cares about, from someone who doesn't deserve to feel that way.

Stiles obviously hasn't picked up on that he's done with talking about this because his phone lights up with another text message.

STILES 3:53 PM
Take Lydia and I for example...she pretends that she can't stand me but in actuality she's just scared of her intense feelings for me.

Isaac isn't sure whether he's supposed to try and refute that or laugh so he just shakes his head, smiles slowly and sharply elbows Stiles in his side. The shorter grunts and when Scott looks back at them again Stiles mutters something about 'Lahey's stupid long limbs'.

ISAAC 4:00 PM
…I'm pretty sure that's not the same thing.

Stiles is only telling him something that he already knows. He understands that Scott's scared…and it's a hopeless sensation. Like when his father used to make him climb into the freezer of his own warped volition; a hopeless, drawn out, hollowing numbness that reminds him of someone plunging their hand into his chest cavity and scraping until nothing is left but that feeling.

He's not sure if Stiles understands that he considers the conversation over but he doesn't answer the text that flashes insistently on his screen. He tucks his phone back into his pocket and doesn't look at it. Besides, they're inching into a tunnel now anyways and the lack of signal would prevent him from sending anything back.

A moment of reprieve.

Or at least he thinks it's going to be.

He doesn't notice it at first. They're slowly inching their way into the tunnel; it's a long one, from what Isaac can see when he tilts his head to the right to look past Scott. Long and dark, no light at the end to see yet, just blaring horns and red taillights mixing with the yellow fluorescent above them making odd colors against the dash. It's warm in the car, they had the windows down, but without the breeze of the open road it feels sort of muggy in a way, like humidity. It's stifling and Isaac yanks on the collar of his t-shirt absentmindedly as he swallows.

The static cuts into the radio and Lydia winces as she rushes to turn the station off, the sound rubbing against Isaac's eardrums and burning insistently into the back of his mind. He lets out a long breath, looks out the window and drums his fingers against his thigh. He doesn't…feel right; like his limbs aren't connected with his body and his head hurts, his chest is tight, he keeps yanking at his collar but that doesn't seem to help with the constricting feeling.

Scott seems to notice something before anyone else; the four of them caught up in a conversation about the lake and if anyone had remembered to bring sunscreen.

"Isaac, you okay?"

Isaac can't answer, couldn't find his voice if he tried, it's buried under his muscles and bones and his tongue is heavy, words are foreign.

He can't breathe, like cinder blocks are resting on his chest. The jeep inches forward, he can hear people talking all at once and Stiles' hands are on him (since when did his palms feel so cold?) and Allison sounds worried. Their voices are heavy, like there's cotton in his ears or everyone is underwater…almost ironic since that's exactly how he feels, like he's submerged in a dark, small space in a submarine but no one can reach him.

The walls are closing in.

It's gradual but then he finally senses it. The walls of the tunnel, of the jeep, his ribcage closing in on his lungs and heart and he can feel his eyes flash gold, he can see red and suddenly Scott is yelling at someone not to touch him and that they're almost out of the tunnel and they're soclose.

His claws are digging through the upholstery of the jeep and his fangs are bared and no, no one is making him get into that freezer, no, no, no, not again. He doesn't know how long he's in the tunnel or when they make it out, how much traffic Scott had to try and push through and what happened between when he saw bright maroon to the sun shining onto his face but suddenly the jeep is jerked to the side of the road and he swears he hears screaming (it might be his own, he doesn't know, he can't tell—everything is hypersensitive, everything is bright and his chest aches and he just has to get out of there).

Isaac snarls and snaps at someone who grabs his shoulders. "Isaac!" He growls and goes to slash at them with his claws just to get away; he has to get away—

"Isaac." Yellow eyes bore into him and seem to reach a part that's locked deep down below his sternum…and something unhinges, falls free, there's an audible and physical release.

He stops struggling to whoever is grasping him around his chest, smack against his back, eyes returning to a stormy ocean color, claws and canines disappearing as he blinks and looks up at Scott. He has his hands wrapped around Isaac's shoulders, squeezing, thumbs pressing into his collarbones.

When Stiles lets go (he had been a wall of resolve behind him, holding him back so that he couldn't get at Scott or Lydia and Allison, who are standing outside the jeep looking in) Isaac feels himself buckle forward. Scott lets him collapse into his chest, Isaac's breathing heavy and deep, trying to calm himself down as his body detoxes from panic. He flinches as Scott's hand travels up and down his back, his fingers pressing personal circles that only Stiles can see into his spinal cord. Isaac lets out a pathetic noise into the other boy's chest before pulling away, wanting nothing else but to bury his face into his neck and breathe him in completely.

"What happened?" He manages to choke out, glancing up at Lydia and Allison who are whispering (far too loudly, in his opinion, werewolf senses or not) and looking at him like some sort of bug stuck in a jar.

Stiles speaks up from behind him. "You were having a panic attack."

Scott nods softly; Isaac can sense the worry on him. "Your claustrophobia in the tunnel set it off. I'm sorry, I should have…I should have realized that would happen."

Isaac shakes his head, feels embarrassment discolor his pale cheekbones, looking down at Scott's shoes. "It's not your fault." He mumbles, because it's not. It's not Scott's fault that he can't handle small spaces, that his lungs close up like he's been chain smoking for forty years and that the lack of air and control makes him panic.

He's just glad he didn't hurt anyone like the last time his claustrophobia caused him to wolf out.

He glances at Allison out of instinct and she's rubbing her wrist, the scars long faded from when he had attacked her in the storage closet at school, and he can tell with the action of her fingers on her skin that she's thinking the same thing.

"It's not yours either." Scott points out, tilting his head down a little so he can catch Isaac's gaze, because he can smell the remorse building like blocks stacked neatly in his body and reflected in his eyes.

He lets out a long breath out through his nose, carding his fingers through his hair before massaging his temples. Isaac doesn't respond to Scott's comforting comment, not even sure what he would say if he could manage to pull at the words stuck in the back of his mind. He merely looks up at the other and nods his head, because it feels like his fault. His father might have instilled it into him but what it comes down to is that he is the one who can't be in an enclosed space without nearly injuring anyone who might try and help him. He wonders if the other werewolf would feel differently about this situation if he had accidently hurt someone; especially Allison.

"You should sit up front." Lydia offers, her voice soft and without a hint of the usual sassy edge that he's used to hearing.

Isaac hates imposing on others more than anything. That's why it had taken him so long to call his aunt for help when his father was still alive (not that it had helped much) and why it had taken him a week to settle into the McCall household—walking on egg shells, not unpacking his duffle bag and doing an obscene amount of chores. It wasn't until Scott told him to knock it off because it was making him look bad and that his mom wasn't going to kick him out if he didn't do the dishes for one night.

"It's really not necessary." He's mumbles even though Scott is nodding his head insistently.

"Isaac, do you think I'd be driving this piece of work if I had a decent cash flow?" Stiles pipes up from behind him and he doesn't even respond because by his tone he can tell it's rhetorical. "Sit up front; my jeep is like my appendage and I can't take more pain." He plays with the shredded leather of the driver's seat from Isaac's claws and frowns, obviously inferring that that's an example within itself.

"You're going to be in more pain if you don't shut up." Scott grits his teeth, giving Stiles a look before the other makes a face and rolls his eyes.

They have a brief moment alone while Lydia steps to the side to call her mom before crawling back into the jeep and Allison moves to get in on the right side of the road next to Stiles. Isaac thinks Scott moves too fast but he's not sure, the gesture is quick and light. Scott's fingers brush through Isaac's curls in a comforting motion and he swears Allison sees it. Swears that he can hear her heartbeat skip like a stone skidding across a pond but it's gone before he can concentrate to make sure.

"You sure you're okay?" Scott asks again, his voice softer this time…affectionate. It makes bubbles line Isaac's stomach and burst all at once, a fluttering sensation traveling up his chest.

He nods; making a mental note to tell Scott that he has to stop talking like that (like he's damn near inlovewithhim) in public. His heartbeat is steady and calm, so it's not like he's lying. Scott seems satisfied a moment later and helps him out of the jeep so Lydia can take his place as she finishes her phone call.

Scott steals the moment when they're passing the trunk of the jeep to interlock their hands, lace their fingers, offering Isaac a few squeezes before he has to inevitably let him go so no one sees. He takes what he can get, accepts the small touches and the tension flowing from his body at being connected and so close to Scott. It has nothing to do with Scott using his werewolf mojo to take away his pain; it just…has to do with Scott as a person. He just has that sort of affect on people. He's warm and his smiles are kind, he's protective and he's safe. Isaac never knew what he was really missing until he felt that…and now that he has it he never wants to let it go.

He feels his thumb brush over his wrist before he releases Isaac's hand to open the jeep passenger door and he crawls inside, putting his seatbelt on as Scott and Lydia get in on the other side. Isaac leans back against the seat, trying to pick up on the emotions coming from the backseat.

He's distracted by his phone lighting up with a message in his pocket; even though it's on silent he can see the brightness of the screen through the fabric. He leans up again and takes it out, glancing at Scott as he starts the jeep and pulls it out into traffic again.

STILES 5:15 PM
Everyone was trying to help you and it took Scott less than ten seconds to calm you down. It's not complicated. You're both just idiots.

Isaac contemplates ruining the other seat upholstery with his claws out of spite...except for the fact that Stiles is sort of right.

0o0o0o0o0

The cabin is beautiful when they finally manage to reach it, it's tucked into the woods on an off road path labeled Hickory Way. The pines are thick and green, tall enough to reach the clouds in the sky and the shade they provide is cool and welcoming to Isaac's lungs. The structure of the place itself sort of reminds him of the Hale house, but…not burnt to pieces and dilapidated with a ninety percent chance of killing him should he step on the wrong board. It's a two story cabin, with rich dark wood that sort of looks like the color of syrup, lots of windows on the lower level to let in the sun and views of the lake that's only a few feet away and hopefully enough space that they don't have to pair up on rooms.

Scott parks the jeep next to the steps leading up to the porch, complete with a red swing that looks like it needs a new coat of paint but sturdy enough to still support a good amount of weight. There are small patches of sun peaking through the pine trees, illumining the clouds of dirt that stir under their feet as they all pile out of the confined space to stretch before grabbing their bags. Isaac sticks his hands in his pockets and looks out at the lake, which has a dock and is completely covered in sunshine, making the water sparkle and reflect brightly against his eyes.

He could definitely get used to this for a few days.

"I have so many memories here." Scott says softly as he walks up next to him, the rest of the group hovering by the trunk of the jeep to retrieve their things.

Isaac turns his head and looks down at the boy next to him, wants to touch him somehow and has to ball his fingers to grab fabric from the pockets of his jeans to prevent himself from doing so.

"I want to show you a place later," Scott looks up at him and smiles, gently bumping his shoulder into his arm. "Okay?"

"And miss the opportunity to hear Lydia and Stiles fight over what to make for dinner?" Isaac asks, making a face like it's a difficult decision. "I guess I'll work you into my schedule."

"Such a gentleman." Scott teases and Isaac laughs softly, turning to head to the trunk with him to help gather bags.

The inside, it turns out, is just as beautifully structured as the outside. As everyone carries in their bags (Lydia has the most with three large suitcases and Stiles is grunting under the weight of them) Isaac sets his one duffle down near the couch in the living room to look around. It's one large room, a staircase and balcony to his right that overlooks the living room, connected dining room and fireplace. The large windows give a perfect view of the lake and he guesses the doorway leading out of the dining room has to be the kitchen. It's very impressive for Stiles' family; not that he's saying a middle income family can't have a beautiful place like this…he guesses he means that it's just unexpected. Maybe Stiles has a rich aunt somewhere or this place was just inherited down from generations and the upkeep has been spot on.

"It was his mom's." Scott whispers as he steps next to him, like he can read Isaac's mind.

Isaac glances over to Stiles and Lydia who are arguing over the fact that Lydia brought enough clothes for a week when they're only here for three days, four tops. He doesn't know much about Stiles' mother, other than what Scott has told him. He lost her young, she was sick he thinks, and for some reason Isaac always wants to tell him that they have that in common—that he lost his mom too soon also but…it doesn't seem like a worthy topic for discussion.

"It's nice." He says, because he's not sure what else to say.

Scott grins at him in a way that always makes his stomach knot. "Wait until you see the kitchen. For someone who actually knows how to make something other than microwavable pizza bites, it's probably close to heaven."

"And here I thought you invited me for my company and weren't exploiting me for my kitchen skills."

"I don't even like you that much." Scott crinkles his nose and Isaac's smile damn near tears his face in half because he can hear the distinct blip in Scott's heartbeat that says he's lying.

Stiles grabs both of their attention when he says that the kitchen is well stocked and that everyone will have their own bedroom…which is great because as long as Allison isn't trying to sneak into Scott's bedroom then Scott can sneak into his. They all head up when Stiles closes the front door of the cabin with his foot and juggles Lydia's bags with his own as he tries to stumble up the stairs. Scott wanders towards a room to his far left and Isaac chooses the bedroom as close as he can without being embarrassingly obvious. He figures that all of the bedrooms have a different décor to them; in terms of his own it puts the shoebox of a room he had at his father's house to shame.

The tall ceilings must be a product of the architecture because it seems to be a common theme with all the rooms at the cabin. The curtains on his windows are blood red and match the color of the flower pattern on his bedspread as he sets his duffle bag on it. He unpacks his things, mostly just his sundries that will go in his bathroom, but leaves the majority of it in his bag (out of habit, he guesses) and leaves his room to find Scott making full use of the dresser by his window. He's stuffing clothes into the drawers in way that would probably make Mrs. McCall's face light up in horror, the amount of wrinkles he's going to get out of carelessness is enough to make Isaac wince in sympathy for her. He can hear her voice in his head, scolding Scott because 'haven't I taught you anything about folding clothes?' and it almost makes him laugh.

When Scott disappears into his bathroom, obviously unaware of Isaac's presence, the taller sneaks up behind him when he's putting his toothbrush and toothpaste into the cabinet mirror that's above the sink. He slides his arms around Scott's middle, making him jump slightly and smirk before leaning back into the embrace.

"Weren't you the one to tell me that it's not polite to sneak up on people?" Scott asks wryly before closing the cabinet and revealing their reflection.

Isaac smiles and watches Scott's face in the mirror as he squeezes him gently and tucks a kiss into the side of his neck, resting his chin on his shoulder.

"It's not my fault you didn't hear me coming; maybe you should practice some techniques that'll help strengthen your hearing skills, grandpa."

Scott turns on him before he can even contemplate what happened; suddenly he's pinned against the bathroom door, which has closed due to the force of Scott turning their bodies and pushing him back against it. He's not hurting him, just pressing his body smack against his own and preventing him from moving…not that he's complaining.

Scott grins, his eyes are wild, gold flashing for a moment before he kisses the tip of his nose in a sarcastic manner.

"I'm not the one who needs practice," He sing-songs, dipping his hips forward and making Isaac's breath crawl up his throat. "Maybe you should learn some techniques on reaction time."

Isaac hums, licks his lips, they're close enough that his tongue brushes Scott's lower lip. "Maybe you can teach me." Is all he says before he joins their lips.

Scott's hands are yanking him forward into his body, fingers digging into his back and gathering the fabric of his shirt and tugging while Isaac's dive into the other's hair. Their lips mesh and their teeth click and Isaac moans softly when Scott's tongue drags across his own—

then he smells it. A sharp hint of vanilla and then—

"Scott?"

Both of them freeze, panting softly against one another's lips. It's like their brains have to reset before Scott's eyes widen because fuckfuckfuck Allison is in his room.

Isaac doesn't know whether to groan or swear as Scott hurriedly pulls back and tries to adjust himself before gently taking Isaac by his wrist to guide him to the corner of the bathroom. He opens the door and breathes out, laughs gently as he sees Allison and Isaac hides in a space near the shower and door and he hates the feeling of shame that is pressing into his sides.

"Hey," His voice is breathless and Isaac bites his lip. "What's up?"

If Allison thinks anything is off it doesn't show in her heartbeat or voice. "I was wondering, while it's still light out do you want to take a walk by the lake?"

"Oh," Scott clears his throat. "Sure, yeah that sounds nice. Let me just…turn the light off in the bathroom and put some of my stuff away and I'll meet you downstairs?"

Isaac can literally hear Allison's satisfied smile before she turns to walk out of the room and he glances at Scott as the other comes back into the bathroom, his cheeks red like his mom has caught him jerking off in his bedroom or something (which apparently has happened before, much to Isaac's amusement when Scott had told him).

He moves from his corner and straightens out his shirt, smoothes his palms down over the fabric before licking his lips. They taste like Scott and it sends a pang of something he can't name shooting painfully into his stomach.

Scott looks like he wants to apologize but doesn't and instead leans up on his toes to gently kiss Isaac's lips. "I'll be back for you." He says softly, referring to the fact that he still wants to show Isaac that place he had mentioned when they first got here.

Isaac nods, tries to smile like he isn't jealous, angry and fucking horny all at the same time and runs his fingers through his hair. Scott settles for one more kiss on his cheek before disappearing out the door and down the stairs.

This was going to be one long three to four days.