Who, who are you?:
The funeral is terrible. It wasn't like you were expecting it to be fun, but you're completely unprepared for the contingent of hunters that descend upon Beacon Hills. Your parents claim they are your grandfather's business friends, but it's very hard to miss the menacing men and women in dark jackets from all over the country. There's even a group from Mexico that pays their respects, though they leave pretty quickly after.
Isaac lays low for a couple days until you're sure they're gone, and God, it's such a relief when they do leave. You were worried some of them might stay to help find Gerard's killer, but as it appears his killer was most likely human they don't seem to have much interest. The fact that so few of them actually seemed to like your grandfather is probably also a factor. They really had to reach deep to say positive things about him.
Your parents are paranoid, constantly calling you just to "check up" when you're hanging out with Lydia or Isaac, and from their nighttime conversations you manage to overhear they're worried the sniper might come after them next. Your mother even brings up the possibility of telling you the truth about their true profession so you can be more aware of the danger. You talk about animal testing for fifteen minutes the next morning at breakfast out of sheer terror.
That's not even the worst part. The worst part is when Scott shows up at your door three days later.
Your father is the one who answers the door, and when he calls you downstairs and once you get over the sheer terror of seeing Scott and your father in the same place, you notice him looking at Scott with annoyance and suspicion.
"Hey, sorry, I would have called, but my phone broke," Scott says with a winning smile. "I just wanted to make sure everything's set for our presentation on Tuesday."
"Okay," you say quietly, feeling sick, because how could he come here? It's also the first time you've seen him since you killed Gerard. He's been out of school and when Harris asked Stiles where he was Stiles said he was at the hospital with him mom. You don't know what Gerard did to her, but it must have been bad for Scott to skip school all week. "My notes are upstairs."
"No, I don't think so," your father says, blocking Scott from making for the stairs and glaring. "Living room."
You're taken aback by his hostility, because you know there's no way he can know Scott is a werewolf. It actually takes you a second of looking at his annoyed face in confusion to realize it's because he doesn't want his daughter alone in her bedroom with some strange boy he's never met before. Which...makes sense, you guess.
"Uh, okay," Scott says, looking bemused, but at the same time you can see him watching your father calculatingly and you're not sure what that means.
"I'll be right back," you say, and go upstairs to grab your English notes and copy of Of Mice and Men.
To your annoyance, your father is interrogating Scott in the living room when you return, asking him about his hobbies, his plans for college, how long he's known you.
"Okay," you say, putting your books on the coffee table and giving your father a pointed look, because what the hell? Why is he acting like Scott is your new boyfriend? And if this was the way he was going to act, you're glad he's never going to meet Isaac. You knew your father was overprotective, but this just seems gross and patronizing. What is this, the middle ages? "We need to work on our project now, Dad."
Your father gives Scott one more cold look before retreating into the kitchen. Scott watches him carefully as he goes, face contemplative. You sit on the couch across from him, the coffee table in-between.
"What are you doing here?" you ask him quietly, though he must be able to hear the way your heart is pounding in your chest.
He turns to look at you, the tiniest bit of uncertainty in his body language. "I came to talk to you."
"You couldn't have just called?" you ask, a bit of an edge to your voice. "Or talked to me at school, why would you ev...No," you say in realization. "You're not here for me. You're here for them."
Scott shrugs, not particularly bothered by your accusatory tone. "I thought I could do both."
"They don't know about you," you say, annoyed that he would think that showing up at your house would be a good idea to figure out if your parents know about him. "I promise."
Scott's expression softens a little, but there's hesitation still. He's not sure what to make of you. Which is...it's fine. It only makes sense.
"Lydia said Gerard tried to kill you," he says gently, like he's afraid bringing it up might upset you. "Why?"
"I don't want to talk about that," you tell him coldly, fists clenched at your sides. What's the point? He's dead. It's done. Talking about it solves nothing.
"Okay," Scott says, but he bites the inside of his cheek like he's trying to remain patient. You tell yourself that it doesn't matter what he thinks of you. You don't need his forgiveness for killing Gerard. You know why you did it and you don't regret it. That's enough.
"How's your mother?" you ask him, mostly to change the subject and get him to stop looking at you with such compassion.
Scott's face falls and for a second he almost looks ill with guilt. "She's...she'll be okay. She got out of the hospital today."
He still looks miserable and you don't think it just has to do with his mother's injuries. Didn't he say his mother didn't know he was a werewolf? Did she find out and react badly?
"It's better that he's dead," you tell him lowly, picking up your copy of Of Mice and Men just for something to do with your hands.
"Yeah, maybe," Scott says with a shrug, but he looks uncomfortable. Disgust wells up in you at his virtue. What is he, a saint? Why does he have to be so good all the time?
You hear your father shift in the kitchen and you abruptly remember how risky of a conversation this is to have all out in the open. "You should go," you tell him, standing and turning away to look at the fireplace to avoid his gaze.
"Okay," Scott accepts and rises as well. You walk him to the door and focus on keeping your expression unreadable.
"We'll finish it up on Monday," you say a little louder, for your father's benefit.
"Yeah, okay," Scott says, smiling at you a little sadly. It makes you want to slam the door in his face.
"I hope your mother feels better," you say instead, taking out your anger by gripping the door knob unnecessarily tightly. "See you later."
"How is your project going?" your father asks suspiciously from the door to the kitchen when you walk back into the living room to get your books.
"Fine," you say dismissively, annoyed at his pathetic, cliché attitude. "He's just one of those goody-two shoes who freaks out about everything."
Your father scowls, most likely at your cavalier attitude about academics than the possibility of you having a boyfriend. "How much of your grade is it worth?"
"Who cares?" you say in disgust and head back upstairs before he can interrogate you about your grades more.
The whole encounter leaves you with a bad taste in your mouth. You decide you're probably better off avoiding Scott from now on. He never fails to make you feel like a truly shitty person.
You are, you know. It's just you'd rather not be reminded of it all the time.
Erica and Boyd watch your every move at school. They don't say anything to you or Isaac, who can now sit with you at lunch without fear of reprisal, but you feel their eyes on your back most of the day, like they're trying to bore holes in it.
You ignore them, for the most part, though Lydia has a few choice things to say about their behavior, which ends about as well as expected.
"Are Thing 1 and Thing 2 going to do anything or are they just going to glare at you?" she asks contemptuously, and of course Erica hears her and stalks over to your table furiously, pulling out of Boyd's attempt to hold her back.
"What did you just call me?" she practically snarls, looking mere seconds away from punching Lydia in the face.
"Did it look like I was talking to you?" Lydia asks disdainfully, unphased by Erica's rage.
Erica slams both her hands down on the table in front of Lydia. "Say it again," she snarls and you're half-expecting her eyes to glow gold. "Say it to my face."
"Erica-" Boyd tries, putting a hand hesitantly on her shoulder, but she shoves it off.
"Back off," you tell her coolly, standing up next to Lydia and hoping she won't be stupid enough to try anything in public.
"Or what, you're going to shoot me too?" Erica replies furiously, and you don't know why, but it looks like Lydia really offended her.
"Erica," Isaac says, getting to his feet beside you with wide eyes. "Calm dow-"
"Don't fucking tell me to calm down," she says loudly, and to your horror you realize that people in the tables next to you are staring at you, "Just because this slut spreads her legs for you doesn't mean you have to do whatever sh-"
"Erica, stop it," Scott says from behind you, and you turn to see him and Stiles looking incredibly tense. Practically half the cafeteria is watching this scene enfold now.
"Mind your own business, McCall," Erica replies with a disgusted look in his direction.
"Erica, maybe we should go," Boyd says quietly, looking warily around the cafeteria.
Erica's face softens for a second. "Fine," she says abruptly and then turns away. You only have a second to sigh in relief before she says,"You know what?" and then turns back around and punches Lydia in the face.
Lydia flies off the bench and onto the floor and both Scott and Boyd lunge forward a second later to restrain Erica to striking again.
"Hey, what is going on here?" The teacher at the other side of the cafeteria shouts and runs toward your table, but you can barely register that, hot white rage burning in your chest. You step forward, fists clenched at your sides, but Isaac grabs your arm before you can raise it and pulls you back before you can do something stupid like stab her with your fork.
"Get off me!" Erica shouts, but Scott and Boyd manage to pull her out of the room before she can do anymore damage, the bewildered teacher running after them.
You circumvent the table quickly and go kneel next to Lydia, who is being held in a seated position by Stiles, her nose gushing blood.
"Crazy bitch!" she gasps, tearing up in pain. "Did she break it? Is it broken?"
"I don't think so," Stiles says worriedly. "We'd better take you to the nurse's office, though."
Another teacher gives you a wad of cheap paper napkins to stem the blood and then you all help her to the nurse's office while the rest of the cafeteria mutters in shock. The nurse won't let you stay in the room, so you, Isaac, and Stiles wait outside in the hallway, while the other teacher runs to get the principal. Is there even a new principal yet?
"Hey!" Scott says, rounding the corner a minute later. His shirt is ripped a bit at the collar, but other than that he looks no worse for wear. "Is she okay?"
"I don't know," Stiles says, looking miserable and you find yourself annoyed at that. He doesn't even know her that well. She's your friend. Stiles's stupid crush doesn't give him the right to act like this. "What was Erica thinking?"
"She wasn't, obviously," Isaac says, but he's looking at Scott instead of Stiles, expression wary.
"Okay, just text me, okay?" Scott says, looking very worried. "I have to go call Derek, but I'll be right back, okay?"
"Did they leave school?" Stiles asks, but Scott is already around the corner. "Hey, Scott, tell Derek to keep his crazy betas in chec-oh, shit," he says, scrambling to his feet and running after Scott without another word, leaving you and Isaac sitting in the hallway outside the nurse's office alone, the sounds of her telling Lydia that everything was going to be fine floating through the door.
"Why is he so nice?" Isaac asks suspiciously, eyeing the way Scott had gone. Like he thinks it might all be some sort of ploy or trick.
You shrug noncommittally. It's just Scott, you know, but you can't say that. It's a little...much. Too on the nose. Isaac might get the wrong impression.
Lydia's nose is broken. She claims she's fine with it since it'll give her the excuse to get the nose-job she's always wanted, but you can tell she's in a lot of pain. You all get interviewed by the interim principal and the next day you find out that Erica is suspended. This would be great if not for the fact that your parents are informed that you were a witness and they spend half of dinner trying to unsubtly dissuade you from ever having any contact with Erica again. It's pretty much the last thing you needed after Gerard's murder. You're beginning to afraid they might try and cut their loses and move and that cannot happen. You can't leave Isaac.
You don't tell Isaac this, of course. It would just worry him and he deserves a break after everything. Instead you get a motel room, which you've been avoiding for a while for safety concerns, and have sex three times in a row on a Saturday afternoon while your parents think you're at the movies with Lydia.
"Oh shit," Isaac groans, collapsing on top of you. He's heavy and you squirm under him in annoyance until he pulls out and rolls off you. He hooks an arm around your waist and pants into your shoulder. You smile at him and pet his hair, feeling exhausted and satisfied, but...not really anything else. You're pretty sure you're one of those women who can't orgasm during sex. You can still get yourself off though, and to be honest you much prefer it this way than the other way around.
"I'm going to get a Coke, you want anything?" you ask, sliding out from Isaac's head on your shoulder and sitting up, arching your back to stretch.
"Uh, no, wait, I can get it," Isaac says predictably, sitting up and looking around the room for his jeans.
"Go to sleep," you tell him, rolling your eyes, but he practically leaps out of bed before you can find your bra, a surprisingly sudden movement for someone who was dozing on top of you two seconds ago.
"I said I got it," he says pointedly, pulling on his boxers and grabbing his shirt off the floor. "Stay in bed."
"Okay," you say dubiously and fall back with a sigh as soon as the door clicks shut.
Isaac has this weird thing about you staying even bed after sex, which is really annoying when you have to pee. You don't know if it's a male thing, a werewolf thing, or just an Isaac thing, but he gets weird when you try to get up right away. Instead, he prefers to bring you things, like water or food and pop from the vending machines outside. He got you breakfast once, which was especially weird because he didn't get any for himself. Just for you. You kinda suspect he got it from a movie or something, like some dumb romantic comedy where the guy gets the girl breakfast in the morning to prove he respects her. Which is dumb. Chivalry is stupid. You can get your own breakfast.
You can't tell him that though, because you can tell that it would really hurt his feelings, even though you don't understand why.
"Here," Isaac says when he comes back into the room a minute later, tossing you the bottle, surprising you that he remembered you drink Diet Coke.
"Thanks," you say and try to hide your smile when he shucks off his jeans and climbs back into bed with you, kissing your shoulder while you unscrew the top. Neither of you are particularly good conversationalists (you didn't notice it until Lydia pointed it out, but you really don't talk to each other all that much) so you lie in silence for a while while you sip on your drink. It's nice, though. Isaac has his arm around you and seems to be content to breathe you in, at least until he starts nuzzling into your neck insistently.
The nuzzling means he wants to have sex. It's really, really stupid-you don't get why he doesn't just ask for it. He doesn't even do the cliché wanna fool around? thing. He just...nuzzles. And if you don't make the first move, you don't have sex, because he is somehow still unable to take the initiative for anything beyond kissing. You actually tested how long he could last without you making a move, and the result was forever because after five minutes of nuzzling he got bored and went to go take a shower. It's weird and seems kind of juvenile, to be honest. Or it would if not for the fact that it really turns you on, because you're a freak. It makes you practically dizzy with lust to think of him next to you, all warm and hungry for you, curling close to your neck to entreat you to take pity on him, silently begging for your affection. Just... God, it makes you wet.
You roll away for a second to put your Coke on the bedside table and then turn back to kiss him furiously, pushing him onto his back and climbing over him because you love the wide-eyed look he gets when you do that, even if it's hardly new. His hands come up to grip your waist and you don't know why, but for some reason you think I don't think so and push them off you, pinning his wrists to the mattress.
Isaac freezes. His face is a picture of shock and for a second you think you've done something wrong, something that reminded him of things that should never be thought of in bed.
Except then you feel his dick jerk against your ass. You blink and then raise your eyebrows at him.
"Um," Isaac says, cheeks and upper chest actually flushing before your eyes.
He doesn't say anything else and neither do you for a second, tilting your head to the side consideringly. You tighten your grip on his wrists experimentally and he gasps, eyelashes fluttering closed for a second in pleasure.
Huh.
Slowly, ever so so slowly, you pull at his wrists until they're up above his head, Isaac's breathing shallow and stunned. You hover over him and nip at his neck gently and Isaac moans helplessly, tilting his head back for more. You can feel him leaking against you, which, okay, gross, but also mine.
Isaac whimpers and trembles as you kiss him, fighting against the urge to move back and just sink down on him like this. You'd love to get him inside you, but you'd have to let him go to get a condom and that is just not an option when he's moaning your name so prettily. But you can't think of any other way to do this-reaching back to jerk him off would just be too weird, so you let go of his wrists and grab for another condom in your purse-your last one, you really need to buy more. Isaac groans in disappointment, hips jerking helplessly under you, but he doesn't move his arms from above his head. It also means that you have to put the condom on him, which you haven't done before and is kind of awkward. It's not that you haven't seen his dick before, obviously you have, but it's weird just...looking at it.
The weirdness doesn't last long, fortunately, and then you're back to pinning his wrists to the top of the bed and riding him until he starts moaning so loudly you would probably be worried about getting a noise complaint if you weren't too busy reveling in it.
He comes way sooner than he usually does and you smirk as he pants in exhaustion because of you. This is your doing.
"Oh, shit," he says after a minute, mortified, cheeks coloring further, and then hides his face under a pillow in embarrassment.
It was way too hot to be embarrassing, but you get it so you just curl up beside him and stroke his back until you can coax his face out of bedsheets and into your neck where it belongs.
Your parents are werewolf-hunters, your boyfriend is a werewolf, and two weeks ago you murdered your grandfather. Weird sex stuff is probably inevitable at this point. You wonder if Isaac would like being tied up. The idea is more appealing than it should be.
"You ready for finals?" you ask, mostly to distract him from his embarrassment, smoothing your hand up and down his back soothingly.
Isaac just shrugs and lets out a noncommittal grunt, still not surfacing from your neck.
"I'm not usually good at finals," you tell him, kissing his temple gently and then shifting over slowly onto your back, reaching down to pull the sheets up to your waists. "I usually never have the motivation to study."
You failed your history final last semester and just barely passed the class. Your parents were so mad. You didn't do so well on midterms this semester either because you were too distracted by your parents going after Isaac and losing your virginity. You're averaging a C in most of your classes and you really need to step up your game. If this continues you won't have the grades to get into anything better than a community college.
"I can help," Isaac says, peeking up at you hesitantly. "I'm okay at everything except Chemistry."
"I took Chemistry last year, with a much better teacher than Harris," you say, scowling at the man's incompetence. "I don't understand how he still has a job."
Isaac snorts with laughter. "Yeah, my brother said he used to come in to class drunk and they still didn't get rid of him. Between him and Finstock-"
"Your brother?" you ask, looking down at him in shock. You didn't know Isaac had a brother. God, did he still live with his father? "I didn't know you had a brother."
Isaac's face falls and he shrugs uncomfortably, looking away from you up at the ceiling. "Yeah," he says quietly. "Camden. He's dead."
You feel as if all the air has been sucked out of your lungs. "H-How-" you ask, chest cold and tight.
"He was a soldier in Iraq," Isaac says morosely, unaware of your terror and its cause. "Some terrorist killed him."
"Oh," you say, unable to help the relief spreading through you at that. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay," Isaac says shortly, still not looking at you. "It was more than five years ago. And he was kind of a dick."
He shifts a bit, reaching under the sheets to get rid of the condom and you watch his bare back cautiously as he leans away from you to throw it away. He settles back on his back beside you, so you turn on your side and put your arm around his waist, resting your chin on his shoulder.
"What about your mother?" you ask. You assumed that Isaac's parents were divorced, but you also assumed that he was an only child.
"She's dead, too," Isaac says with a too-casual shrug. "Hung herself when I was nine."
"It's okay," he says quickly at your horrified look. "I didn't really know her. I mean, she was sick all the time."
"She was sick?" you say, raising your head to look at him worriedly. Brother and mother dead as a child...you can't imagine what that must have been like. Is that why his dad became such abusive trash? Or was he always like that? You can't ask him that, though. You're pretty sure that would only upset him.
"She was always in bed," Isaac murmurs, leaning down to press his nose into your hair. He reaches out with his other hand to run his fingers through your hair and you pull him closer, rubbing his side anxiously. "My dad tried to drag her out sometimes, but she'd just start screaming...I guess she was pretty depressed."
You don't know what to say to that, so you just cup his face and kiss him softly. Your chest aches at the realization of how much pain he's gone through in his short life. It's not fair. He doesn't deserve this.
If you want, I'll kill him for you, you think, leaning your forehead against his and closing your eyes. Just say the word.
Isaac would never want that, of course. But part of you wants to do it anyway, as if that could somehow erase the misery and abuse he'd suffered over his life.
A/N: Ngl, I enjoy Allison and Isaac's dysfunctional relationship, because I'm amused by failure. But don't worry, Scott will bring some much needed communication into their lives. Please comment!