I've got nothing left to prove:
They went after Isaac?" Stiles says, looking confused. "To get to Derek, you mean?"
"That's what I thought at first, but Gerard's the school principal," you reply, tapping your fingers against the wooden table nervously. "He has to have noticed that Isaac doesn't hang around Erica and Boyd anymore. No, I think...I think it was my parents. They're getting impatient."
"Well, that's just great," Stiles says after a pause, paling visibly. "Just what we need."
"Is he okay?" Scott asks worriedly, which is weird because you were under the impression that he didn't think much of Isaac.
"He's fine," you say shortly, glancing around the Starbuck's to make sure no one's watching you. You're at the far back table in the crowded downtown Beacon Hills Starbuck's (one of them anyway.) You wish you could have met in the woods again, but apparently Scott has to go to work soon and this is the most convenient place for him to meet. "We're just going to have to be more careful."
You don't mention you running over the hunter in your car. You found out from your parents' conversation the following night that he survived and will be in the hospital a while, but you're safe because if he'd seen you you'd know by now. It has no bearing on this conversation.
"Did you talk to Derek?" you ask them when they don't say anything else, just look contemplative.
Scott winces. "Yeah," he says, looking disgruntled. "I tried. He didn't tell me anything-"
"Surprise, surprise," Stiles interjects.
"- he just keeps trying to get me to join his pack. He says that that's the only way to stop Gerard."
"You're not joining him," Stiles says flatly, only a split-second before you open your mouth to say the same thing. "After all the shit he's pulled? There's no way we could ever trust him."
"I know that," Scott says irritably, taking a sip of his hot chocolate. You find it oddly adorable that he doesn't drink coffee. Unlike Stiles, who does, and just really, really should not. "But he could be right. We might have to work together."
For a second you struggle with your hatred of Derek and your knowledge that Scott might be right. Maybe it could work, but you just don't want Derek near Isaac. That's not negotiable.
"Just try and keep tabs on what he's doing?" you offer, without much confidence. "You're going to have to be the go-between."
To your surprise, Scott lets out a snort of laughter. "Sorry," he says when you give him a confused look. "It's just...he really doesn't like you."
You smirk in triumph, because Derek Hale not liking you really is something you're proud of. "The feeling's mutual, I assure you," you tell him, finishing your cappuccino and sliding out of your seat. "I'll text you if I find anything else out."
You pick up Isaac after work, get dinner, and spend the next half an hour making out in his sleeping bag at the abandoned warehouse, but you don't have sex. Isaac doesn't seem to have much of a libido, which is somewhat of a relief because you were sort of worried that once you started having sex he'd want to have it all the time, and you definitely wouldn't like that. Instead he mostly lets you initiate everything, and maybe that should give you pause, but you're too relieved to question it. You have so much to worry about outside your relationship with Isaac that it's nice to have something safe and easy to take comfort in.
And it's lucky that you have something like that, because your life is about to get even more stressful.
It starts, unsurprisingly, with Derek Hale.
You, Lydia, and Isaac are walking back to your cars after seeing Sucker Punch late Friday night at the end of April, in the middle of an involved discussion about what exactly the movie was about, when Isaac stops mid-sentence and goes stiff. A second later, Derek, Boyd, and Erica step out from behind an SUV.
You freeze in your tracks, heart leaping in your chest, because here we go again, and you're unarmed this time. If Derek wants to take revenge there's not going to be much you can do about it.
"Having fun?" Derek asks sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest smugly.
"What do you want?" you say coldly, fists clenched at your sides. "You didn't get enough last time?"
"Somehow I don't think it's going to go that way," Derek says with a smirk, because he must know that you can't be armed. "I hear the hunters came after you," he says, looking over Isaac carefully.
"Like you care," you hiss furiously, because how dare he speak to Isaac after what happened last time. Isaac says nothing.
For a second Derek actually looks confused, like he doesn't understand your hostile reaction, before he scowls. "I let you off easy last time, but I don't have time for your pettiness right now. We have a common enemy and you have information I need."
It's a threat, you know it's a threat, but you're too stunned by his dismissal of your completely justifiable hatred of him to register it fully. Pettiness? He thinks you're being petty when the last time you saw him he tried to bite you and beat Isaac bloody? You're so angry that you don't know what to say for a second, and it's probably a good thing you don't have a gun on you because you're not sure what you might do.
"We may have a common enemy," you say finally, shoulders shaking with rage, and you can tell Erica and Boyd are weirded out by it by the way they look at you disbelievingly. "But in this case the enemy of my enemy is not my friend. You can go to hell."
Derek looks shocked for a second, but his expression quickly morphs into fury. He takes a step forward and Isaac jerks next to you, but you hold your ground. No one is paying attention to you right now, but there are other people coming out of the theater and walking to their cars. He can't try anything here. One scream and they'll hear.
"Listen to me, you stupid little girl," Derek starts angrily, his eyes glowing red. "If you think for one second-"
"Excuse me," Lydia says, and you turn to her automatically to see her trademark disdainful expression as she eyes Derek dubiously. "I hate to break-up this lovely chat, but how old are you? 35? You don't think this whole collecting teenagers thing isn't even the tiniest bit creepy?" she finishes waving her hand in the direction of Erica and Boyd.
Derek looks like he doesn't know quite what to say.
"What are you talking about?" Erica says, looking at Lydia in confusion.
"Honey, if you're trying to ask for our help then menacing us in a dark parking lot is so not the way to go," Lydia tells Derek candidly, putting a hand of her hip and cocking it out. "And seriously, what is up with your teenage minions? You do realize how gross this looks, don't you? I literally just met you five seconds ago and already I feel in desperate need of a shower."
"Excuse me?" Erica growls defensively, while Boyd and Derek are still stunned into silence by what Lydia's implying. "What the hell is that suppo-"
"Sweetheart, you're in a cult," Lydia says, giving her a dismissive glance. "Look at what you're wearing for God's sake. Leather jackets are so '90s. Get help."
"Who the hell do you think you ar-" Derek starts angrily, but Lydia expertly cuts him off before he can finish.
"No, we're done talking to you right now," Lydia says, taking out her phone in a clear threat to call 911. "You're clearly unable to have a productive conversation about our mutual problem, so I suggest you talk to Scott instead as it appears he's the only one with the patience to deal with you."
"You think we want to work with you?" Boyd says, looking at Lydia in annoyance, like he thinks she's being unbelievably overdramatic. "We don't. But unless you want t-"
"Yes, I just wanted to report what looks like a mugging in the theater parking lot," Lydia says holding her phone up to her ear and ignoring Boyd completely. "There's three people in leather jackets, it looks like they're threatening these teenagers that just came out of a movie...No, I don't think so." She smiles at Derek sweetly and makes a shooing motion in his direction. You can't believe her guts, and by the way Isaac, Erica, and Boyd are gaping at her they're in the same boat. "No, no yet, but they're not letting them leave."
"Fine," Derek growls out furiously. "You win this time."
And he, Erica, and Boyd slink back into the shadows and out of the parking lot.
"'You win this time?'" Lydia says mockingly, far too soon to be out of hearing range, and hangs up her phone. "What is he, a Batman villain?"
"You shouldn't have done that," you tell her quietly, heart still pounding in your chest. "You're on his radar now."
"Please, he can't be worse than his uncle," Lydia says, rolling her eyes, but you can't tell if it's an act or not. Surely she can't be dismissing Derek completely?
You're on the fence about Peter being worse. From the little you saw of him Peter was completely unapologetic about his desire for power and lack of morals. Derek, despite all evidence to the contrary, actually seems to believe that he's doing the right thing. That's far more dangerous.
"Don't worry about him," you tell Isaac after you part ways and take him back to the warehouse. He was very quiet all the way back and you don't want him going to bed worried about Derek coming after him. "He knows he won't get anything from us now."
"Yeah, I know," Isaac says, shrugging. He doesn't sound that confident about it, though.
You step closer to him and wrap your arms around his waist, leaning into his space. "Can I come in?" you ask coyly, because you have a fool-proof plan to cheer him up and it involves the condoms and travel-sized lube in your purse.
Isaac scoffs and rolls his eyes, as if to say what a stupid question and drags you inside.
You ride him this time, which is pretty embarrassing initially, except Isaac seems way more embarrassed about it than you, which stops you from being embarrassed, because you like that way more than you should, because you're weird. Your thighs burn from exertion and you feel sort of ridiculous, but the way Isaac whimpers and squirms under you makes it all worth it. You can make him swear under his breath and arch his back when you clench your muscles around him, and you especially like the way he clutches your hips with his hands and stares at the slight bounce of your boobs like he can't believe this is actually happening to him. His hips jerk uncontrollably when he comes and you know guys' orgasm faces are supposed to be funny or gross, but Isaac always looks great when he tosses his head to the side and screws up his expression, moaning quietly.
"Oh, shit," Isaac groans, sagging back down on his sleeping bag. He's flushed all the way down to his belly-button and you grin and roll off beside him on your back, feeling your heart pound furiously in your chest. God, that's a workout. You wonder how many calories you burned. You should do this more often.
"Alright there?" you ask when Isaac doesn't move, smirking at the evidence of what you can do to him.
Isaac grumbles incoherently, not even bothering to open his eyes and you turn on your side to nip at his neck, something hot and pleased purring in your chest when he automatically tilts up his chin for more. You feel magnanimous, so you get rid of the condom for him even though you always feel kind of weird touching his dick, and maneuver both of you under the sleeping bag.
Isaac is yours, you think possessively as Isaac snores against your shoulder, arm curled around your waist. Derek can't have him.
It's probably a little creepy, the way you feel about him. Acknowledging that this is possibly not the healthiest relationship ever makes you feel better, but it probably doesn't actually help. You're not in love; you're seventeen, you don't even know what love is. You think you could live without him. If he went somewhere else and was happy...you'd be sad, but you could weather that. But if he died...if he died you're not sure you could survive that. Going back to the way things were before Isaac...what would be the point?
But whatever. Your parents are werewolf hunters. You never were going to be normal.
And maybe you shouldn't over-complicate it. You like Isaac and he likes you. You spend a ridiculous amount of time with him and haven't gotten sick of him yet. You've seen him naked, sleep with him regularly, even if it still doesn't really do anything for you. Or, well, it sort of does. You don't, like, get off or anything, but you still like the feeling of Isaac inside of you, his hands on your naked skin. Best is knowing how good you make him feel, watching and hearing him fall apart, all because of you. Isaac is weirdly shy about sex, in a way he never was about making out or seeing your boobs for the first time, and he still never initiates anything between you, so you like getting him off, making him come for you, especially when he gets so overwhelmed he makes noises and moans your name.
It's addicting, that feeling. You get ravenous for it sometimes, ravenous for him. Sitting in class while the teacher drones on about world history, you think of the way Isaac bites his lip when you ride him, buries his face in your neck and trembles afterward. The way he looks at you when he's on top, dazed and almost disbelieving, like he's not sure you're really there.
You're too horny to think straight by the time the bell rings and because you're apparently a stupid hormonal teenager now, you see no problem with dragging Isaac into the backseat with you once you find a secluded backroad by the forest preserve.
"A-Allison," Isaac stutters as you pull off your shirt and straddle his lap, eyes wide and surprised. "Wha-here?!"
"Yes, here," you say impatiently, kissing him and pushing up his shirt futilely because he's not lifting his arms so you can pulls it off.
"Uh, that's-" Isaac groans, kissing you back and sliding his hands up your back and fingering the clasp of your bra hesitantly. "Are...are you sure?"
You give up on his shirt and go for his belt instead, imagining getting his dick out and just sinking down on him right there. You think you'd like pressing him against the seat, the way his hands would scrabble at your waist and how he'd whimper against your neck when you squeezed around him.
"Shit," Isaac groans, grabbing your waist and pulling you down to the seat. He kisses you furiously, squeezing your boobs under your bra, boner sliding against your inner thigh, but when he pulls back he looks down seriously at you and says. "Are you sure? We don't have to."
"Oh my God," you say, rolling your eyes and pull the condom out of your pocket.
Isaac always says stuff like this. You really want to do this? Are you sure? It's okay if you don't want to. We don't have to. You don't understand why, because you think it's pretty clear that both of you like having sex. And you're the one who always initiates it. You have no idea where he gets the idea that you're not really into it. If anything, you should be the one asking him those questions. Isaac is the one shy and hesitant about sex and sometimes afterward he gets weird and quiet and hides his face in your neck. You should talk to him about it, you know that, but part of you is afraid of the answer.
Instead you respond by taking what you want, and you end up holding onto the door for leverage while he fucks you, watching Isaac slowly unravel until he grunts out his orgasm and collapses on top of you.
"Shit, sorry," Isaac mumbles, weakly trying to get off you. You roll him off to the side carefully-the backseat of your car was really not made for this-so that you're side by side, wrapping an arm around his waist to keep him close.
"Look at the windows," you say, childishly amused at their fogged-up state.
Isaac just grumbles and buries his face in your boobs, pulling you close. He falls asleep like that, or pretends to anyway, which he does sometimes for reasons you don't understand, leaving you to try not to shift antsily so as not to disturb him. It's hard because you're still so keyed up from earlier. Getting him in you took the edge off, but you'll probably masturbate when you get home tonight to finish the job. You're probably going to have rug-burn in awkward places tomorrow, but totally worth it. Car sex is awesome. When Isaac wakes up you tell him this, but he seems too preoccupied with your boobs to reply because he's incredibly male like that.
Going home is weird, because for some reason you feel like your parents will be able to tell that you just had sex in your car just by looking at you. They don't of course, but you still feel awkward in a way you don't when you have sex with Isaac in a motel or in the warehouse. It's a relief when they barely pay attention to you at dinner and let you excuse yourself early so you can go upstairs and take a shower.
You have to go to your therapist the next day after school and annoyingly enough she seems to notice that you're happier. You end up telling her about Lydia, just some crap about finally having made a friend, but then she presses and you actually tell her about Lydia, which is...weird.
"It sounds like you have a complicated relationship with her," your therapist says neutrally. She's a heavy woman probably only a couple years older than your mother with gray flyaway hair and a mouth that seems to be perpetually smiling. She makes a very unassuming figure sitting in the armchair across from you with a clipboard on her lap, but her eyes have a piercing quality that is more than a little unnerving. You always feel, perhaps irrationally, that she knows what you're hiding and is just lying in wait for you to slip up.
"I guess," you say uncomfortably, aware you'd spent the last five minutes complaining about her. "I don't know. It's not a big deal."
It's not that complicated. You sort of disapprove of each other's life choices, but she really is your friend now. It's weird and doesn't really make sense, but questioning it seems like looking a gift horse in the mouth, so whatever. You found her personality kind of abrasive in the beginning, and it's still abrasive, but you guess you just got used to it? She's your friend now and it doesn't look like that's going to be changing anytime soon. It may not be the most healthy friendship, but that is pretty much par for the course for your life, and you're definitely not telling her that.
"Have you talked to her about any of this?" she asks next and you give her an incredulous look because God, no, doesn't she understand how real-people relationships work?
"Communication is important, Allison," she says, and wow, she really does sound like a self-help book. Or one of those stupid daytime talk shows your friends' moms used to watch. "Just because something may seem obvious to you doesn't mean it's obvious to everyone else. Having open channels of communication is important for any relationship in your life."
"Okay," you say, trying not to sound dubious, and send a surreptitious glance at the clock.
The next morning you sit down on the usual bench outside of school next to Lydia, who doesn't even bother to look up from her phone as she greets you.
"Hey," you reply, and look around the school yard until you spot Isaac sitting against the wall outside the school door, flipping through his French book, no doubt preparing for the vocab quiz you have today. It's finally gotten warm out and most of the student body seems to prefer sitting outside in the sun until the first bell rings. You look at him until he senses someone watching him and looks up at you, smiling hesitantly when you wave.
"Do you want to go to a party in Deer Valley this weekend?" Lydia asks you all of the sudden. "A friend from middle school invited me and it sounds fun. Well, for a given value of fun. Deer Valley is no Beacon Hills, but I'm sure it will be adequate."
"Sure, why not," you say, amused at her description. It would be nice to get out of this town for once. And no one's going to know you at a Deer Valley high school party.
"Good," Lydia says satisfactorily, smiling at you cheerily.
Isaac looks skeptical when you turn to look at him to see if he was paying attention, but you just mouth "Relax" at him, because it'll be fine, he'll see.
See, you don't need to talk everything to death. Lydia gets your weird friendship dynamic; she doesn't need you to explain it to her. You're communicating perfectly well with Lydia and Isaac. Everything is fine between the three of you and you're not going to rock the boat. Your relationships are perfectly stable.
Which is good because you're going to need them.
A/N: And the awkwardness continues! Please review!