Who, who are you really?:
Lydia gets sick enough of hanging out at the library after school on the days that Isaac doesn't have work that she starts inviting both of you over after school. It's awkward, especially for Isaac, who is visibly uncomfortable being around Lydia's mother, but you usually get dinner there, which is a huge plus. Lydia's cook makes the best French food you've had since you visited your relatives in Orléans two years ago and didn't ask questions when you snuck into the kitchen and asked if she could give Isaac an extra helping whenever you were over for dinner. Lydia's mother seems nice, if a little bemused by her daughter's odd new friends who are suddenly always around, but she's too polite, and possibly too grateful, to ask any prying questions. Mostly you hang out and do homework or watch movies. It's nice, even though Isaac and Lydia don't really like each other. They at least attempt to get along for your sake, but you can tell Lydia would rather just hang out with you, and Isaac finds Lydia's prissiness grating.
"So..." Lydia asks a couple weeks into this new routine, painting your toenails while Isaac naps on your stomach on her bed. "I have to ask. Why is he homeless?"
You glance down at Isaac automatically, but he still looks blissfully asleep, even drooling a bit on the new shirt Lydia bought you over the weekend.
You shrug your shoulders uncomfortably, a difficult movement considering you don't want to dislodge Isaac or ruin your toenails. "He can't go home," you say, because it's true, but you can't tell her the whole story. It isn't your place.
"Why not?" Lydia asks, finishing with your left foot and moving back to the right to give it another coat. "Because he's a werewolf?"
"Yeah," you lie, because that seems like a reasonable enough alternative. "That bridge can't be unburnt."
"Yeah, I guess," Lydia says, clearly able to tell that that isn't the whole story, but she doesn't push, most likely because she doesn't care enough, considering it took her three weeks to ask why Isaac is homeless. She finishes your toenails and caps the bottle deftly. "Alright, all done."
You crane your neck to see and smile at their shiny bright purple color. "Thanks. I'll do yours in a minute."
"Okay," Lydia says and flops down on the bed beside you. Isaac makes a grumbling sound against your stomach at the disturbance and shifts a little, but doesn't wake up.
Lydia gives Isaac a cursory look and scoffs a little, scorn all over her face. "You have terrible taste in men," she says, completely unapologetically.
"Look who's talking," you reply without thinking.
Lydia stiffens for a second before letting out a very fake-sounding laugh and slumping back against her pillow. "True," she says, far too casually. "But, whatever, I'm over him."
What could you possibly see in him? you want to ask her, but you know that question could be easily turned back around on you. And to be honest, you don't really have an answer for what you see in Isaac. He's funny, sometimes, you guess. He really likes you. He stood up to Derek for you. He's your best friend and you'd pretty much do anything for him. Still, not exactly a ringing endorsement.
"He knows about Scott," you say, threading your fingers through Isaac's curls gently without thinking much about it. "He found out in February."
Lydia gives you a wide-eyed look and you look away uncomfortably, down at Isaac's head on your stomach. You're not really sure why you're telling her this. It doesn't seem like any good could come of it.
"He was blackmailing Scott or threatening to tell someone...I don't know, I never found out. I told him if he didn't leave Scott alone or if he told anyone I'd kill him."
Lydia doesn't say anything and when you dare look up at her again she's frozen on the bed, still staring at you with wide eyes.
"It worked," you say, shrugging uncomfortably.
"What are you going to do about your grandfather?" Lydia asks after a couple seconds, surprising you by not commenting on Jackson.
"I don't know," you say, looking away from her back up at the ceiling, your stomach twisting in anxiety at the mere thought of him. "He'll kill people to get what he wants. And who knows what he'll do after he gets it."
You don't really care if he kills Derek Hale, but you have a horrible feeling that he's not just going to stop there. Scott and Isaac could be next. Erica and Boyd will no doubt be killed as well. And then maybe he'll turn on your parents...
"Don't you think you should tell your parents?" Lydia asks hesitantly. "I mean, they should probably know, right?"
"They'd never believe me," you respond gloomily. "And then they'd want me to join the family business. It's better if I just handle it myself."
"How?" Lydia demands, looking bewildered. She sits up, looking deathly serious, which is strange because usually Lydia likes to pretend that nothing phases her. "How on earth do you plan on doing that, because Allison, you said he has a whole group of other hunters who do what he says, and he has guns. And how can you stop them if you can't reveal that you know what's going on?"
"I just will," you snap, feeling sick and defensive. "Look, I just...I don't want to talk about this anymore."
Lydia looks annoyed, and you're vaguely surprised at her concern, but she lets it go.
Everything will be okay, you tell yourself, trying to calm down before Isaac wakes up. You'll figure something out. And even if you don't, you can always shoot him in the head.
You and Lydia are sitting in the cafeteria at lunch the next day as usual when Scott and Stiles come and sit down right next to you in an extremely unsubtle fashion.
"Heyyy, Lydia," Stiles says, plopping his tray down next to her. "I sort of had some questions about, you know, that Chemistry chapter, so I was kind of wondering if you did any tutoring or..."
"I need to talk to you," Scott mutters, sitting down extremely close to you, so close that you can smell his aftershave. "It's about Gerard."
"No," Lydia says flatly, looking at Stiles like he's a particularly disgusting bug, before turning away from his blatant attempts to distract her. "What is going on?"
"Uh...I was just hoping to talk to Allison alone," Scott says awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks darkening in embarrassment. It's actually pretty convincing. It really does look like he just wants to ask you out again.
"It's about Gerard," you tell Lydia, taking another bite of your mashed potatoes, because someone should be trying to be subtle here. You're a little anxious at them talking to you at school, but there are no cameras in the cafeteria, probably because Gerard couldn't make a convincing case for them as there are always teachers supervising, so as long as this gets finished quickly, you'll probably be okay.
"Oh, thank God," Lydia says, looking surprisingly relieved. "Please tell me you have some idea what to do about him, because we don't have a clue."
"I..." Scott says, looking shocked and sort of adorably bewildered. "What?"
"She knows," you tell him, shrugging your shoulders. You feel a bit guilty, even though it isn't your fault. You didn't tell Lydia about Scott-she figured it out herself.
"What?" Stiles yelps and you wince automatically. Why does he have to be so loud? "You told her?"
"Well, the crazy man with fangs biting me was also a fairly large hint," Lydia says sarcastically. "What about Gerard?"
"I...he," Scott says, looking between you and Lydia hesitantly, like he's not sure if he should trust you. That annoys you more than it should. "We have a plan. Just in case he...wait, you know why he's here, right?"
"He's dying of cancer and wants to become a werewolf to cure himself," you say, sort of surprised that they'd come to the same conclusion.
"Yeah, that's what we think too," Scott says, nodding firmly. "So we have a plan, just in case he actually succeeds." He glances around the cafeteria to see if anyone's watching them and pulls a silver pill box out of his pocket, identical to the one you've seen Gerard carry around with him. "That's where you come in."
"You're going to poison him?" you ask, shocked at his ruthlessness. You didn't think-You'd never expected that Scott of all people would ever-
"No, it's mountain ash," Scott says, like that's supposed to mean something to you. "It's sort of like werewolf repellant, I guess. Werewolves can't cross a mountain ash circle," he adds when you raise your eyebrows questioningly.
"What's wrong with wolfsbane?" you ask, but you take the silver box out of his hands and stick it in your pocket anyway.
"Wolfsbane is poisonous to humans too, you know," Stiles says, looking at you disbelievingly. "What kind of hunter are you?"
His question shocks you into stillness for a second and you feel your face flush with sudden anger with startlingly alacrity.
"I am not a hunter," you tell him coldly, because how dare he? You've done nothing but try and help Scott and yet he still thinks of you as one of those murderers? You want to slap him.
Both Stiles and Scott look shocked at your response, while Lydia's lips just thin as she watches your interactions carefully.
"Sorry," Scott says after a beat, even though it wasn't him who called you a murderer. "But can you do it? Just in case...I mean, who knows what he'll do if he becomes a werewolf?"
You nod shortly, still not completely over Stiles's comment. You should probably ask what will happen if Gerard gets bitten while mountain ash courses through his veins, but you don't actually care. If Scott really had come up with a way to poison Gerard without it looking suspicious, you would have been shocked, yes, but you'd have probably helped anyway. "No problem," you say, looking back down at your lunch rather than have to look at either of them for any longer.
"Uh, so how exactly are you not a werewolf?" Stiles asks Lydia curiously. "I mean, you're not dead, so-"
"Do I look like I'm interested in answering your stupid questions?" Lydia asks cruelly, even for her. "You've said your piece, now leave."
You look up to see Stiles flush in embarrassment and Scott scowl, but they do as she asks and depart without another word. Lydia watches them as they go and then turns back to her food, smirking in an extremely self-satisfied manner.
"Thanks," you say quietly, poking at your green beans.
"I don't have time for idiots," Lydia says loftily and dainty stabs one of her green beans with her fork.
"Are you okay?" is the first thing Isaac asks you when he gets into your car after school, looking at you carefully.
You give him an odd look and hit the accelerator. "Yes."
"You seemed pretty pissed off at lunch," Isaac says with raised brows, because of course he was eavesdropping on your conversation.
"No, I wasn't," you say, because that would be stupid. Stiles clearly hadn't meant anything by it, he'd just been surprised by your lack of knowledge of the supernatural, probably because he assumed you'd been raised in it.
"I can tell you're lying, you know," Isaac says and when you glance at him quickly before turning your attention back to the road he looks unimpressed.
"Yeah, how?" you say antagonistically, because what does he want from you? Does he want you to spill all your now-tainted childhood memories and cry over the fact that you will never be able to trust your parents again? Because that? Not going to happen.
"Your heartbeat," Isaac answers placidly, looking at his fingernails instead of at you.
"Really?" you ask skeptically.
"Yup, people's heart rate changes when they lie," Isaac says, looking smug.
You guess that makes sense. Isn't that how lie detectors work? But aren't they notoriously unreliable?
You grunt dismissively and turn your focus back onto the road. You're tired, you realize. You don't want to go to the library, do homework, and make stupid small talk. And you don't have to.
"Uh, where are we going?" Isaac asks when you miss the turn for the library.
"Motel," you say calmly, without a glance in his direction.
"Oh," Isaac says quietly, and does not talk for the rest of trip.
About half an hour later, when Isaac is on top of you, kissing you hungrily while you clutch at his bare sides under his shirt, you realize that you miscalculated. It's not that you don't want to be here. It's not even that you don't like kissing him. It's just that...making out...it just gets kind of boring after a while. It's not like you hate it or don't like Isaac anymore, it's just that it's so boring. Seriously there is only so much swapping saliva you can partake in before it starts getting repetitive. You feel guilty about it because Isaac clearly loves it, is practically desperate for it, making you wonder if neither of his parents ever hugged him as a child. Which is stupid, because neither of your parents ever really hugged you as a child and you don't have intimacy issues. Clearly.
Usually you feel bad pushing him off and just go with it, but you're tired and stressed and you just don't feel like doing anything you really don't want to right now. So. Time for something different.
You roll him over so that you're on top, Isaac going easily. You get the impression that he likes being pinned. You sit on his stomach and lean back, enjoying the way his eyes go wide when you take off your shirt.
You've never taken your shirt off in front of anyone before, but it feels less weird than it should, even with the way Isaac is blatantly gaping at your boobs. Your bra is beige and boring, so it's definitely an ego boost.
Until, you realize in horror, that these jeans cause the excess fat on your stomach to muffin top. Shit.
You're mortified for a few seconds, not knowing what to do, and then you decide, screw it, better give him something better to look at, and take off your bra as well.
"Oh, shit," Isaac says, almost reverently, and that definitely helps with your self-confidence right now.
You smirk down at him despite the nervousness in your gut and tilt your head challengingly. "Your turn."
Isaac's eyes widen and then he scrambles to struggle out of his shirt. And when you say struggle, you mean struggle. You have to bite your lip to keep yourself from laughing when he sort of gets stuck and then help him pull it over his head, touching his bare chest hesitantly. He's not ripped or anything, but he's definitely in better shape than you are and you remind yourself that you should probably start running again. Isaac, predictably, pulls you down for a kiss and both of you groan softly when your bare boobs make contact with his chest. It feels shockingly good, and so you don't feel the slightest bit of shame pulling one of his hands off your waist and bringing it up to touch your left breast.
"Mmf, Allison," Isaac groans, kissing your chin on accident as he squeezes your breast gently, your nipples hardening under his touch, and oh, that's good. You find yourself baring your neck automatically and moan softly when he kisses down your throat. You stroke your hands down his chest, wanting to touch him in return and it should probably be awkward-you really have no idea what you're doing-but you pretty much stop caring when he slides his leg between your thighs and grinds. You let out an embarrassing porn star moan when his teeth sink into your neck and shit, you're totally getting wet right now and it feels great.
Isaac growls in response and flips you over so fast you don't even have time to yelp, pinning you to the bed and mouthing down your neck to your boobs before you can even splutter in protest.
He sucks your right nipple into his mouth, squeezing both of your breasts at the same time, and looks up at you deviously, an image that should send a throbbing ache between your legs and want his thigh back between them. But it doesn't, because his eyes are glowing bright gold and the hands clutching your boobs have long yellowish claws attached to them, lighting scrapping your sensitive skin.
You go very still.
Isaac frowns at your expression. "What?"
"Uh, claws," you say awkwardly, glancing down at his hands.
"Oh, shit," Isaac says, jerking his hands away from you and scrambling backward on the bed. "Uh, that wasn't...I didn't mean to-"
"It's fine," you say, even though it's not really. They look really sharp. He could have really hurt you.
You sit up and resist the urge to cover yourself as Isaac closes his eyes and takes several deep breaths. Why had he done that, now of all times? The full moon is more than a week away. Was it just because he was turned-on? Is that actually a thing? A thing you're going to have to deal with?
Isaac's claws don't recede and you find yourself eyeing them with interest. This is the closest you've ever been to werewolf before, obviously, and you have to admit you're curious. You don't really know all that much about werewolves, besides what you've managed to overhear from your parents' conversations over the years and who knows how much of that is actually true?
The claws are pretty gross, though. All yellow and dirty-looking.
"Why are your eyes yellow?" you ask when Isaac swears and gives up trying to go back to normal, hiding his face in the sheets by the foot of the bed in embarrassment.
"All werewolves have yellow eyes, except alphas," Isaac says, glancing up at you, eyes still glowing, his features scrunched sort of adorably.
You shift forward and lie down on your stomach in front of him, partly to hide your boobs and partly to get a better look.
They really are very glowly, you think, examining his eyes closely. And his pupils are weird. You definitely prefer his human eyes.
"Some werewolves have blue eyes," you tell him, resisting the urge to push open his mouth to see if he has fangs. "I've seen it."
Isaac has blue eyes normally and so did Emily Doroshenko; you assumed his werewolf eyes would be blue likes her's too.
"Really?" Isaac says, unsurprisingly just as ignorant as you are about the dangerous world he's suddenly found himself thrust into. To your surprise, his eyes abruptly fade back to their normal blue. You glance down at his hands and see that his claws are gone as well. Was it because you were distracting him?
You feel sort of stupidly happy now that he looks normal again and squirm over to lie next to him on the foot of the bed, looking over the broad expanse of his bare back interestedly. It's a very nice back. Pale and smooth. You kind of want to lie on top of it, so you do.
"Uh, Allison," Isaac says when you roll on top of him, snuggling against all that nice skin. It feels really good against your boobs. "What are you doing?"
"Lying on top of you," you tell him, nuzzling your nose into his neck and stroking your hands against his sides, causing him to jolt in response. "You're very comfortable."
Well, sort of bony, but the enjoyment you're getting out of this is mostly sexual anyway, so that's different.
"Yeah, that's not weird at all," Isaac says and rolls you off him, pulling you close so that you're lying on his chest instead.
You grin in response and kiss his sternum lightly. Isaac does not have a lot of chest hair, just a smattering of dark blond curls, and you nuzzle your nose against his right nipple happily. Isaac groans and you smirk before crawling up to kiss him again, eager to get back to your earlier activities.
"Uh, Allison, maybe that's not such a good idea," Isaac says weakly, even as he bares his neck under your mouth and smooths his hands up your back. "I'm not really sure I can...uh...claws might be a problem again."
Seriously? You groan and drop your head down onto his neck and then raise it to look at him balefully.
"Yeah, don't really know how to control it yet," Isaac mutters, trying to avoid looking both in your eyes and at your boobs pressed up against him. "Derek was supposed to teach us, but..."
Ugh, Derek. Mood officially ruined.
"How were you supposed to do that?" you asks, sitting up on your elbows to look at him.
"Uh," Isaac says, tearing his eyes away from your boobs and flushing. It should probably be kind of annoying how he can't stop staring at your chest, but to be honest it's kind of flattering. You're only a B cup, after all. All the fat went straight for your stomach and arms. And your ass, but, you know, in a good way. "Something about having an anchor-something about having something to anchor yourself to? He wasn't very specific."
Shocker.
"Like, it's okay most of the time, just, uh...when my heart rate goes up. And the full moon."
You frown. "Wait, you can control it on the full moon?"
Isaac shrugs. "Derek can."
You roll over onto your back and stare up unseeingly at the ceiling, your chest tight all of the sudden and aching. Any remaining good mood from earlier is completely gone now and you suddenly feel very numb.
"Allison?" Isaac says worriedly, shifting over to look at you.
Werewolves can control themselves on the full moon. If they're taught properly. And yet your parents murder them anyway. You want to throw up.
"'S nothing," you say quietly, feeling like you're about to start sobbing at any second and bury your face back in Isaac's neck, clutching at his waist.
Isaac, who always respects when you don't want to talk about something, says nothing, just tentatively wraps his arms around you and holds you for a long time.
It's actually quite easy to replace Gerard's pills with Scott's. A couple days after Scott approached you in the cafeteria, Gerard leaves his black jacket out on the couch when he goes to the bathroom. You sit down next to it and trade pill boxes while your parents complain about how high their income taxes are this year. It takes less than ten seconds.
Give it time. You're young, you know.
A/N: Lol, Allison and Isaac are so weird. They're very amusing to write. Anyway, sorry this chapter was so short. Next one will be longer. Please review!