And where, where are you going?:
Isaac is watching Scott. He's been doing it for the last twenty minutes while your substitute Physics teacher drones on about Galileo, being extremely obvious about it. It should probably make you mad, jealous and possessive, but mostly it annoys you because really? Does he think no one's going to notice?
It's not like you don't understand the inclination, because it is, well, Scott. But he has to know how awkward it'd be if Scott found out he had a crush on him while they're living together. He should probably not stare at him like a starving man salivating over a steak.
Oh, my God, you think as Isaac's eyes move over Scott's tattooed bicep and down to his ass. Subtly, Isaac. Look it up.
Does he think about Scott when you have sex? you wonder. The thought bothers you a little, even though it's hypocritical. You have, on occasion. Well. A couple times...done...that... It's a vague worry, though. You're comfortable enough in your relationship with Isaac to know that he still likes you. Loves you, even. Maybe. You're still not really sure what that means.
"In Physics today?" you say after the final bell rings and you make your way to your car in the parking lot through a crowd of jubilant students. "Seriously?"
You didn't really want to talk to him about it-it just seemed awkward, but he cannot be that obvious. It could have consequences that you don't really want to think about.
"What?" Isaac says, confused.
You give him a pointed look and unlock your car with your remote key.
"What?" he says again when he sits down next to you in the passenger seat, throwing his backpack into the backseat.
"You have got to be more subtle," you tell him, starting your car and looking over your shoulder to make sure there's no one coming as you back out of the parking space. "He's going to notice, you know."
Isaac doesn't say anything and it isn't until you're stuck in the long line of students trying to leave the parking lot that you can look at him again.
He's frozen, staring at you with wide, guilty eyes, hands curled into fists over the fabric of his jeans.
"I'm not stupid," you tell him, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.
"O...kay," Isaac says, still looking seconds away from bolting.
You scowl. This is exactly why you didn't want to have this conversation. You knew he'd react like this. And what is the point of talking about it anyway? It's not like you can do anything about it. It is what it is.
"I'm not mad," you say uncomfortably, glaring at the car in front of you. Seriously, why do pedestrians have to walk right in front of cars trying to get out of the parking lot. It wouldn't be such a mess everyday if people just paid a little more attention to where they were going.
"It kinda seems like you're mad," Isaac says carefully.
"I'm not," you repeat. "I...get it."
"You get it...?"
You shrug, looking down at your hands on the steering wheel in front of you. "I think about him too, you know."
Isaac doesn't say anything and it takes you several seconds to force yourself to look at him. When you do his eyebrows are raised and his mouth has fallen open a bit in surprise.
"It's...whatever," you say, rolling your eyes and pressing down softly on the gas pedal as the car in front of you moves forward a couple yards. "It doesn't have to be a big deal."
"Okay," Isaac says, still a little hesitant.
I'm not going to leave you, don't worry, you want to tell him, but can't figure out how to put it without sounding patronizing. You don't want to leave Isaac, and well, you weren't lying when you said Scott is too nice for you. It's just not an option.
"Allison?" Ms. Blake says as you pack up your books and head for the door. "Can I speak to you for a moment?"
You frown and Lydia throws you a questioning look as the rest of the class leaves the room to go to their second period. Why does she want to talk to you? You haven't done anything worthy of praise or scolding. You don't participate unless called upon, but that's most of the class.
"Yeah?" you say uncomfortably, walking up to her desk. You don't have good experiences with teachers asking you to wait after class. There were a lot of well-meaning teachers after you found out about your parents and fell into a deep depression. You hated their attempts at "connecting" with you or whatever. You never understood why they always chose you as the kid who's life they were going to "make a difference in."
"You've seemed quiet lately, I just wanted to make sure you're okay," she says, smiling at you hesitantly.
"I'm fine," you say flatly, though you do think it's a little weird because, no, you've pretty much been the same as ever.
"I mean, with everything that's going on," she says, taking a shuddering breath. "It'd make sense if you were upset."
She's not wrong. There have been three more murders, doctors. Healers. A druid thing apparently. Virgins, Warrior, Healers, Philosophers and Guardians.
You don't really understand it, but you don't have to to know how serious this is. Danny Mahealani had been poisoned and would have died if Jackson hadn't brought him to the hospital before it was too late. Deaton had been taken by the Darach, Scott rescuing him just in time, and both Isaac and Scott had been scared out of their minds for Scott's mom. And no one has any idea what will happen when the Darach finishes the sacrifices.
"I'm really fine," you try to reassure Ms. Blake. It occurs to you that she's probably not even thirty. And there's no way she knew when she moved here that her coworkers and students were going to be picked off by some psycho. You feel sorry for her.
"Alright, well if you ever need to talk to someone," she says, looking like she should be the one talking to someone. She pats your arms gently. "My door is always open."
"Thanks," you say, trying to sound genuine and turn to leave.
Halfway through Physics, you start to feel sick.
At first you think you're getting your period a week and a half early, but after your vision starts going blurry as you have difficulty getting up after the bell rings you know it has to be something else. A wave of pain suddenly grips your stomach and you find yourself doubling over and vomiting your breakfast onto the classroom floor, the boy who sits in front of you leaping out of the way with a yell of disgust. After that you can't get up, pain like you've never felt before ripping through you.
You think you hear Scott saying something, your name maybe, and then you're lifted into the air so quickly that another wave of nausea crashes through you, causing you to gag. You're moving then, being carried out of the room, but you're in so much pain at this point that you have no awareness of your surroundings. There's just light and sound and pain. You're jostled a bit and there's a gust of air on your cheek and the slam of a car door. You force your eyes open and blink uncomprehendingly at black, red, and neon green lines in front of your face, like a pattern. A shirt.
"Allison," you hear Scott say, and he adjusts you so that you're looking at his face. It's out of focus, but even still you can tell he's worried. You're sitting in his lap, you realize, in the back of a car. "Where does it hurt? Your stomach?"
"Really hurts," you whisper and then he reaches down to touch it. The pain lessens slightly and you hear Isaac say. "What are you doing?" in a high-pitched, scared voice.
You miss most of the conversation that follows, except for Stiles's ovarian cyst theory from the front seat unfortunately. You almost start crying when Scott lifts you up again, only to put you down on something soft, the voices of other people filling your ears.
There's questions, so many questions, what did you eat, are you allergic to anything, but you don't know, you can't answer, you can only clutch your stomach and sob in pain. Then there's a needle in your arm and everything stops.
You wake up and immediately regret it. Your head pounds and the bright sunlight coming through the window only makes it worse. You roll over, intending to go back to sleep, until you remember what happened and your eyes snap open in panic.
You're in a room you don't recognize, a bed you don't recognize, and you would panic if Lydia wasn't lying in the bed next to you, Isaac asleep in the desk chair. You reach up to hold your head as you take in the room, band posters, a guitar, clothes all over the floor...a boy's room. And then you notice the dark red line around Lydia's neck.
"Lydia," you say hoarsely, your throat burning as you speak, and shake her frantically. "Lydia, wake up!"
There's a thump from the next room over and after a couple seconds Scott appears in the doorway, only in a t-shirt and boxers, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.
"Scott," you say, looking at him with wide eyes. "What's going on, what happened?"
"You were poisoned," he says, looking relieved to see you're awake. "You're alright now, but the hospital got...A lot happened," he finishes lamely.
"Lydia, what happened to your neck?" you ask her as she groans and rubs her eyes, smearing makeup onto her cheeks.
"Ms. Blake tried to strangle me," she mutters, pulling herself up into a seated position. "Also, I am apparently a banshee."
"Ms. Blake?" you say, stunned.
"She was the Darach," Scott explains, pulling on a pair of jeans from the floor and sitting on the foot of what must be his bed. "She...she was Kali's emissary and Kali tried to kill her when she killed the rest of her pack. She wanted revenge."
"And got it," Lydia says darkly. "The Alpha Pack's dead."
"All of them?" you start to say, but then Isaac jerks awake and falls out of Scott's desk chair.
"Hey, you okay?" Scott says, looking at him in concern, but Isaac only has eyes for you.
"Allison," he chokes and practically throws himself at you, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you tightly. "Are you okay? How do you feel?"
"Fine," you say, closing your eyes briefly and clutch his waist. He presses his face into your neck and you rub his back soothingly. "Hey, I'm okay. Just a bit of a headache."
"You want some aspirin?" Scott asks, looking a little embarrassed.
"No, I want to know-she just killed them all?" you say, still having difficulty reconciling the fact that Ms. Blake was the Darach. "Where is she now?"
"She's dead," Lydia says coldly. "Your parents killed her."
"I'm going to get you some aspirin," Scott says at the stunned silence that follows and leaves the room quickly.
"Oh," you say, adjusting Isaac in your arms so that you can see Lydia better. "Okay."
Is that it then, you think in shock. Is it over? In one night?
"Lydia, my parents, where do they think I am?" you say suddenly. "Do they know I was in the hos-"
"No, Isaac convinced Scott's mom not to tell them and then when the alphas attacked the hospital we moved you here," Lydia says, getting up out of Scott's bed and straightening her rumpled clothes. She points at your phone on Scott's bedside table. "I've been texting them saying you're at my place."
"They attacked the hospital!?"
"They kidnapped Melissa and Stiles's dad," Isaac mutters into your shoulder, wiping tears off his cheeks quickly.
"What?!"
"She was going to ritual sacrifice them, but I found them under a tree stump using my undefined, death-sensing banshee powers," Lydia says airily, like she's telling you the latest gossip. "Derek and your parents went after Ms. Blake, she beat the crap out of Derek, so he's not an alpha anymore, thank God, and then your parents killed her. The rest of us went to rescue Scott's mom and Stiles's dad, except then the root cellar almost collapsed due to evil Darach magic and Scott saved us all by randomly becoming an alpha."
"What?" you say blankly, staring at her. Isaac sniffles against your shoulder.
"It's been a busy, busy night," Lydia says bitterly, and she won't look at you, her face very stiff.
"Are you okay?" you ask her, trying to focus on what's right in front of you instead of the million questions popping into your head.
She nods shortly, not looking fine at all. She turns toward you and swallows, the red mark around her neck a shocking contrast to her pale face.
"I'm really glad you're okay," she whispers and you reach forward and clutch her hand.
Before you can ask anything else the door opens and Scott's mother comes through with a black square bag over her shoulder.
"Hi, Allison," she says, smiling at you faintly. She looks exhausted, dark circles under her eyes, skin wan. "How are you feeling?"
"I just have a headache, but I'm okay," you tell her. Her smile is very brittle and you feel uncomfortable under her attention. If she was just coming back from being kidnapped ...she shouldn't be worrying over you.
"I'm just going to check you out, okay?" she says tiredly, sitting on the end of the bed. "We pumped your stomach and gave you an antidote, but you really should still be in hospital."
"I'm fine," you reassure her and reluctantly peel Isaac off you, so she can take your blood pressure and examine your eyes and mouth.
Scott comes in behind her, looking incredibly reluctant, his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched. You look at him with new eyes while his mom listens to your heartbeat with a stethoscope. An alpha? How? He hadn't killed one. You thought that was the only way betas or omegas could become alphas. You remember his eyes turning red briefly last week at the abandoned mall, but you thought it was a fluke, a trick of the light. Not...
Scott doesn't seem too happy about it either. He looks as tired as his mother.
"Are you okay?" you ask him worriedly.
Scott frowns, looking almost hurt by this question. "Yeah, I'm good," he says with a tired smile. "I'm glad you're okay. You were really..." he trails off, mouth trembling with suppressed emotion.
"Why did she poison me?" you ask, suddenly feeling cold. You could have died. It happened so fast. If Scott hadn't taken you to the hospital right away...
"A distraction, I think," Lydia says quietly. Isaac says nothing, just watches Scott's mom finish checking you over with anguished eyes.
"Your vitals are all fine, but I'd take it easy for the next few days, okay?" Scott's mom says, pulling away from you and standing up shakily.
"Mom, are you-" Scott says, going to her side, lifting his hands as if he's worried she might fall.
"I'm sorry, I just really need to lie down," she says with a wince. "Aspirin should be fine."
As she leaves the room you notice ropeburn on her wrists and feel even worse. God. Random alpha-ness aside, no wonder Scott is so miserable.
Isaac wraps his arms around your waist and buries his head in your shoulder again, hands trembling. As you rub his back you realize your t-shirt's on backward and try not to think about strange doctors undressing you. You hope Isaac was the one who put your clothes back on at least.
Lydia lets out a disdainful sniff as she lies back down on the bed, but she presses her thigh against your hip, hiding her face in Scott's pillow.
You turn to look at Scott helplessly and your stomach drops at the misery on his face.
"I'll leave you alone," he says quietly and exits the room before you can call him back.
You lie back down on the bed, pulling Isaac with you, and reach for Lydia's hand again. She grips it back tightly and you take slow deep breaths, trying to calm your heartbeat even as Isaac cries silently into your shoulder.
It's over, you tell yourself. You're safe. Everyone's safe.
But it doesn't feel like it. You may not have died this time, but you're left with the sobering realization of just how vulnerable you are.
It's weird going home, almost as weird as going home after you killed Gerard. Your parents immediately notice your sickly pallor and don't believe your food poisoning excuse. Instead they accuse you of drinking and complain about your continued association with "that Martin girl."
You're too tired to argue with them and just go up to bed before they say something that makes you mad enough to lose your temper. You sleep badly-your headache was alleviated by the aspirin you took earlier, but it does nothing for your sore throat. A side-effect of having a tube down your throat, no doubt. It's strange that you don't remember any of it. Almost like it didn't really happen.
You take the next day off and spend it being lazy and watching dumb chick flicks and comedies on your laptop. You still don't feel a hundred percent, but the day after you force yourself to go to school because you can easily see yourself retreating further and further into yourself if you keep this up. Isaac would probably freak out and risk your parents' wrath trying to see you. You just have to force things to go back to normal.
You're getting out of your car in the school parking lot, shaking with anxiety even though it doesn't make any sense, when you see Scott and Isaac ride into the parking lot on Scott's bike. It's nothing you haven't seen before-they ride together most days, unless Scott has morning lacrosse practice, but for some reason it makes you freeze in your tracks, halfway through shutting your car door. Isaac is pressed up against Scott's back, arms around his waist-of course, it's not like there's a lot of room on that bike- and the sight makes you ache with want. You watch them get off the bike and take their helmets off, entranced by their easy camaraderie. Scott still looks a little tired, but he's smiling at Isaac and Isaac looks so happy...A wave of envy rushes through you. You feel like you're watching them from behind a glass wall, even though you could easily walk across the parking lot and join them. You'd do anything to join them in this moment, be between them, for them to look at you the way they're looking at each other.
The moment is ruined when Stiles walks up to them grumpily, glaring at Isaac and dragging Scott off towards the building. Isaac scowls after them, but you empathize with Stiles. He'd had Scott to himself for so long. You don't think you'd like Lydia becoming good friends with some other girl and you've only been friends a couple months.
Isaac starts to follow Scott and Stiles towards the school and you panic. You know it's stupid, but it feels like you're being left behind. You shut your car door and dash across the parking lot, not even bothering to check that your car locked properly as you hit the lock button on your keys.
"Hey!" you say, coming up behind Isaac.
"Allison," he says, turning around and looking relieved, even though you texted him last night to tell him you were coming back to school . You latch onto his arm and he blinks at you in confusion, because you really are not much for PDA. When you're sober. "You okay?" he asks quietly.
"Yeah," you say firmly, even though your heart is going a hundred miles an hour. You don't let go of his arm until you reach your locker.
Even missing one day of school results in a lot of make-up work and you skip lunch to read a couple chapters in your American History book. It's pretty boring, not only because it's history, but also because you took American History freshman year when you lived in San Francisco and it's the same textbook. Still, you need to get your grades up this year.
"Hey, have you seen Scott?" Isaac asks after lunch ends and you meet him in front of your French classroom.
"He wasn't at lunch?"
"No," Isaac replies with a scowl. "I had to eat with Stiles and Lydia."
You struggle to suppress a smile, because that sounds like a disaster.
You see Scott in Physics, but there's something...You can't quiet put your finger on it, but there's something wrong. It's not anything obvious, but there's a sense of defeat in his expression, even as he smiles and works on his lab with Stiles. Is his mother okay? Or does it have to do with him becoming an alpha?
It bothers you the rest of the day, which is relief, because it actually distracts you from freaking out every time your stomach grumbles and you think you've been poisoned again.
"Hey, what are you doing this afternoon?" you ask, catching up with Scott and Stiles at Stiles's locker. Isaac is working and Lydia is doing something with her dad, so you're completely free to investigate Scott's odd behavior.
"Playing video games," Stiles says pointedly, putting his arm around Scott's shoulder. "Assassin's Creed Marathon, actually. I'm going to kick his ass."
Wow, possessive much? you think, surprised at his clear dismissal.
"Stiles," Scott says, frowning at him.
"Sounds fun," you say with forced cheerfulness. You actually like video games, in theory, but you never had much of a chance to play them outside of hanging out at friends' houses. Your parents think they're a waste of time. "Can I come?"
"'Course," Scott says generously, a little surprised at your forwardness.
"Yeah, 'course," Stiles parrots, looking aggrieved.
It's awkward, pretending to be cheerful and excited about spending the afternoon playing video games after what just happened, but you manage to muddle through with minimal uncomfortable pauses. At least until Stiles's dad calls around five and Stiles reluctantly heads home. He just found out about the supernatural and is low-key freaking out about it. Leaving just you and Scott, sitting on opposite ends of the couch.
"How are you feeling?" Scott says suddenly, after a minute of uncomfortable silence, the two of your staring at the menu screen without making any effort to play another game or turn it off. "I didn't...I didn't ask you...I forgot," he says guiltily.
"Fine," you say with an awkward shrug. "To be honest, I don't remember much."
"Oh," Scott says, but he doesn't look any more reassured.
"I feel like I should be asking you that question," you says mildly, trying not to sound too accusatory. It doesn't work with Isaac and you think it'd be even less effective on Scott. He'd just deflect.
"Why?" he says, eyes widening too innocently, tone too casual for you to buy.
"Lydia said you're an alpha now," you say carefully, wanting to get to the point, but wary of scaring him off.
Scott looks away from you, back at the TV screen. "Yeah," he says gruffly. "Deaton said it happens sometimes, by like, power of will or something..." he mutters. "S'called a True Alpha."
You've never heard of this before, but you refrain from asking any more questions. It's clear Scott is not happy about it and doesn't want to talk about it.
"It means...you're stronger, right?" you say, because it doesn't sound that bad, to be honest. You wouldn't ever want to be a werewolf, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't envy their strength and resilience. Their healing abilities, especially after what just happened. It would be nice not to feel so vulnerable all the time.
"Yeah," Scott shrugs, and gives you a fake smile. "I guess."
What's wrong? you want to ask, getting more worried at his despondent behavior. This isn't like him.
You don't realize it until now, but you have a lot of experience dealing with people who don't want to talk about their feelings, so you get up and sit down right next to him, reaching down to hold his hand without thinking much about it. He startles, head jerking back to look at you in shock and it's only then that you realize it's kind of a weird thing to do for someone you've only just become friends with. But it's too late to back down, so you just look at him steadily and say. "Everything's going to be alright."
He stares at you for a second, stunned, but before he can reply there's a key turning in the front door and Isaac walks into the front hall, his backpack slung over his shoulder. He stops when he sees you and Scott sitting on the couch in the living room and next to you Scott goes stiff, his hand pulling away from yours. You just grip it tighter and give Isaac a pointed look, jerking your head at the empty space on Scott's other side, because if this doesn't get resolved soon it's going to be extremely awkward.
"I wasn't-" Scott says guiltily, looking between you and Isaac in horror, but thankfully Isaac takes your hint and steps forward towards the couch to squeeze between Scott's other side and the end of the couch.
Scott's eyes widen as Isaac looks at him nervously and then quietly says. "Are you alright?"
Scott swallows and then his face crumples. He pitches forward and his head falls into his free hand, elbows on his thighs. "Shit," he says shakily, eyes squeezed closed.
You put your hand on his back and get an inappropriate thrill when you rub over his t-shirt gently. That you're allowed to do this. You're a terrible person, because the only reason for that is that he's upset.
"I didn't...I didn't do it on purpose, I never wanted," Scott says, the words tumbling out of him like water breaking through a dam. "The full moon's next Sunday and I don't..."
"The full moon?" you mouth at Isaac, confused. He thinks that's going to be a problem for him, as an alpha?"
"You're going to be fine," you tell him when Isaac just looks back at you helplessly, reaching around to grip the other side of his waist and leaning into his side as far as you dare. "I know you'll be."
"I just...I don't know what it means, just when I was getting used to being an omega," Scott continues tremulously. "Stiles...Stiles thinks it's cool, but I didn't want to be more of a monster than I alr-"
"You're not a monster," Isaac cuts him off, putting his hand hesitantly on his shoulder, like he thinks Scott might get mad at him for it. He leans down a bit to see his face better, eyes very focused. "Don't...don't say that. We'll, we'll help you."
"No, I don't want anyone near me," Scott says shakily, shoulders hunching further. "Deaton doesn't know much, neither does Ms. Morrell-"
"Ms. Morrell? Our French teacher?" you say, shocked, because this is the first time you're hearing of this.
"She's Deaton's sister," Isaac mutters and rubs Scott's shoulder carefully.
"I just...I just have to figure out what this is," Scott finishes morosely.
"Okay," you say quietly, cowed by the fear in his voice.
Scott takes a sharp breath and sits up, leaning back against the couch so you have to pull your arm away.
"Sorry," he says, staring up at the ceiling.
You force down a sudden burst of anger at his apology, because what is he sorry for? He didn't do anything, this was done to him, why does he always have to do that?
It seems to have the opposite effect on Isaac, who stares at Scott longingly, eyes trailing up his body, biting his lip absentmindedly. For a second you wouldn't be at all surprised if he climbed into Scott's lap.
He doesn't, of course. Even Isaac has more sense than that.
Scott doesn't move to get up, so you don't let go of his hand. Instead he closes his eyes, expression very brittle and grips your hand back. The three of you sit there for a long time.
Lydia decides you're all going to Homecoming, pretty much overnight. Isaac is irritated, but you think it might be fun actually. You haven't been to a school dance since the incoming freshman dance a couple weeks before you saw your parents kill Emily Doroshenko. You do have fun finding a dress, a dark red V-neck that makes your ass and boobs look amazing and you think might be fun to have sex in. You expect surprise from your parents that you're actually voluntarily involving yourself in a school function, but you weren't expecting an interrogation.
"Do you have a date?" your father asks suspiciously, putting his book down on the coffee table.
"No, I'm going in a group," you reply, slowly backing out of the living room and heading for the stairs.
"Will there be boys in this group?" he asks, giving you a stern look that means you're not going to be allowed to leave without finishing this conversation.
"Yes," you say, coming back into the living room in resignation. You almost forgot how annoying he used to be about you having male friends. Poor Tom Jenkins was never the same after your father interrogated him about his intentions when he came over to watch a movie at your house one day after school when you were in sixth grade.
"Scott and Stiles?" he asks, surprising you by remembering their names.
"Yeah," you say, shrugging uncomfortably. "We hang out sometimes."
"You've never mentioned them before," your mother says mildly, glancing up from her newspaper to look at you over the top of her reading glasses.
"Not much to say," you say boredly. "They're in a couple of my classes."
"Be back here by 11:30," your mother says, looking back down at her newspaper. "No sleeping over at Lydia's."
You clench your jaw angrily because you had plans at Lydia's, mostly involving Isaac sans clothing, but you know there's no point in fighting them when they've given you a direct order. "Okay."
You think that's the end of that, but unfortunately you don't get off that easy. Your dad decides he's going to drive you to the dance, in an extremely transparent guise to check out Scott and Stiles. You're furious, but there's nothing you can do about it but text Isaac to not wait for you in the parking lot.
"Hi, Mr. Argent," Lydia says when you walk up to the front of the school in a disturbingly flirtatious tone. She's wearing a tight dark blue strapless dress that barely covers her ass and shockingly high silver heels, complete with sparkly earrings. She looks great, but you're still relieved when your dad grimaces a bit.
"Hello, Lydia," he says and then looks immediately over to Scott and Stiles in their second-hand suits. "Boys."
"Hi," Scott says, smiling pleasantly. "You look nice, Allison." He's not even looking at your dress though, he's looking at your hair, which is up in a bun instead of down like it usually is. That annoys you for some reason.
"I trust you'll behave yourselves," your father says seriously and you cringe behind him.
"Oh, yeah, definitely," Stiles says, looking impatient and nervous. He has a ton of gel in his hair and keeps having to stop himself from touching it.
Your father takes a second to look sternly at both of them and turns back to you. "11:30, Allison," he says pointedly.
"Yes, sir," you say sarcastically.
"Alright, c'mon, Allison, I have to fix your make-up," Lydia says, reaching forward to pull you towards her. "See you later!"
"Thank you," you mutter, while you walk arm in arm towards the entrance to the gym, practically feeling your father's glare on your back.
"Is he always like that?" she asks, sounding unimpressed. "Ugh, I'm so glad my parents cut the apron strings years ago."
Lydia declares your mascara-applying skills horrendous and redoes your eyeliner and lipstick before she lets you out of the girls bathroom and into the dance. You grin at the cheap decorations and colored lights, while you head towards Stiles and Scott waiting at a table in the back, but it fades when you see Isaac on the other side of the room, talking to Erica and Boyd. Why are they even here? you think, stomach twisting uncomfortably. Neither of them really seem like high school dance people. Isaac sees you by the time you reach your table and parts from Erica and Boyd to head in your direction.
"Hey," he says, sliding into the seat between you and Scott and looking you up at down interestedly. "I like your dress."
"I bet you do," you mutter and smirk at him. Next to him Scott studiously examines his napkin."I like your tie."
Isaac's suit is wrinkled and a little too short for him, but his tie is a nice blue color that matches his eyes. Isaac's always looked good in blue, though he rarely wears it so you're guessing Scott's mom had a hand in this one. It makes you happy to think of her helping Isaac pick what to wear for Homecoming.
"Okay, let's dance," Lydia says bossily. She looks over Scott and Stiles contemplatively and then smiles. "Scott. Come dance with me."
"Uh..." Scott says, glancing at Stiles. "No, I'm...I'm okay."
"Not taking no for an answer," Lydia says cheerfully, getting up from her seat and walking past you to stand next to him. She grabs his arm and pulls him up. "Let's go."
"Sorry," Scott mouths at Stiles as Lydia pulls him in the direction of the dance floor, who scowls after them. Isaac takes one look at Stiles's unhappy expression and then gets up as well, offering you a hand.
You dance a bit to bad pop music and overly emotional slow songs, but it's fun to stand so close to Isaac, his hands low on your back, while you sway to the music. You're probably pretty bad at grinding, but that's fun too. After about an hour you catch sight of Lydia and Stiles dancing near you and frown, turning away from Isaac to find Scott. You don't see him on the dance floor and when you crane your neck you spot him back at the table, looking at something on his phone. You release Isaac's waist and pull his hands off your ass.
"We should go over and talk to him," you say.
"Or not," Isaac says, raising his head from where he was trying to look down your dress and following your gaze to Scott.
He starts walking in Scott's direction and you follow after him in confusion, not sure what he means.
"Hey, come dance with us," Isaac says after you weave through the other dancers and tables to reach Scott.
Scott looks up from his phone at him in surprise. "Uh, okay," he says and gets up easily.
Isaac grins wolfishly, the grin he always gets on his face when you're about to have sex. You look at him in horror because what is he doing, he can't just look at Scott like that, like he wants to devour him.
Isaac takes your hand and pulls you back to the dance floor, with more confidence than you expect. Scott follows after you and thankfully a fast song starts up, so you don't have to stand there and sway awkwardly to the music. It's Born This Way and you're surprised to see Scott grinning when you turn around to face him on the dance floor.
"I like this song," he says, without a hint of embarrassment.
"Yeah?" Isaac says and puts his hand on your waist, pulling you close, but still facing Scott.
You don't know why you do it, but you reach out for his arm, pulling his hand to the other side of your waist.
"You're a Lady Gaga fan?" you ask casually, like Scott isn't staring at you with wide eyes, because this will only be weird if you let it be.
"Yeah," he replies, seeming to make the conscious decision to not be awkward and sways to the music as the chorus comes on.
It's weird, you know it's weird, and people around you give you odd looks, including Jackson, though he very quickly looks away when you raise your eyebrows at him. But Scott doesn't seem to mind and it's fun to dance with him, even though you don't dare touch him anywhere else besides the waist. Isaac doesn't touch him at all, though he clearly wants to by the heated looks he gives him under his eyelashes, and you're both so sexually frustrated that bidding him goodnight at the end of the dance is painful .
Your dad drives you home and you try to just go to bed, but you have way too much energy to fall asleep. You masturbate twice, but it doesn't even begin to take the edge off and just makes you want to have sex more.
Screw it, you think at quarter to two and get out of bed. You grab your keys and climb out your window, because apparently you're the kind of girl who sneaks out in the middle of the night to have sex with her boyfriend. You'd probably be more ashamed of that fact if you weren't so horny.
You remember Scott's story about Stiles climbing in his window their entire childhood and find that, yes, it is fairly easy to scale the pole holding up the roof of his walk-around porch. That seems like something they should probably fix, especially in this town, but you're not complaining now as you walk across the flat roof to the nearest window.
It ends up being Scott's window and your eyes widen as you realize he is right there, his bed right under the window. He's asleep, thank God, and shirtless, and you tear your eyes away and sneak as quietly as you can past to the next window. You try not to think about the bare skin of his back, the sheets pooled around his waist. You remember him in his boxers when you woke up in his room after being poisoned, but you were a little too preoccupied to enjoy the view. You wonder if his thighs look as good in boxers as Isaac's do. You don't know why that detail does it for you, but every time he takes his pants off you find your eyes drawn to them.
"Isaac," you hiss quietly, crouching down next to the window and tapping on it softly. "Isaac, open the window."
There's a pause and then you see a dark shape moving inside the room, heading towards you. Isaac pulls open the window and stares at you with wide eyes. "Allison?" he whispers. "What are you doing here?"
You slide inside the room without answering and lean in to kiss him, running your hands down his bare chest to reach the hem of his boxers.
"Shit, oh, Allison," Isaac moans, pressing his nose into your neck and inhaling. You know what he must be smelling, how wet you are, and lean back a little to pull off your pajama t-shirt. It would have been more fun to have sex in your dress, all you'd have to do is hike it up, but this is good too. Anything is good as long he gets his dick in you as soon as possible.
Unfortunately Isaac has other ideas, the oral-obsessed freak. You fall back onto his bed, but the air mattress is not exactly made for having sex on and it makes too much noise, so you end up on the floor.
"Condom, c'mon," you hiss, pushing down your underwear and grinding your hips down on his erection.
"Gimme a minute," Isaac pants. You're so turned on you could probably come from this alone, but Isaac has other plans and lifts you off him and up onto his-
"Isaac!" you squeak as he licks up into you, but you grind down on his face reflexively and try not to whimper at his talented mouth under you and the grip of his hands on your inner thighs.
What the hell, you think as heat builds in your abdomen and you hunch over and grab the wood floor for something to hold onto. What the hell, what the hell, what the hell, why is he, can he even breathe like that? Why did he, you're sitting on his face, and God, it's good, being able to just grind, but how is this-
Your breaths are very loud in the dark room and after a while your knees begin to protest on the hard floor. You clap a hand over your mouth as you start to whimper, and when you come your whole body jerks so violently you almost fall over.
"Oh," you say hoarsely when Isaac rolls you over onto your back and plants his wet face in your boobs. You clutch his shoulders and squirm a little under him, because that was good, but not enough. "Isaac, come on, just-"
You almost tell him that he doesn't need a condom, that you're on birth control, but he's already getting up to get his wallet out of his jeans, leaving you panting up at the ceiling. When he comes back you wrap one arm around his shoulders and grab his ass with your other hand, urging him to push into you. He moans at how wet you are, how easy it is to thrust in and out of you, and then you're off, fucking right there on the floor. You have sex twice, once normal and once with you bouncing in his lap while he rubs at your clit and gropes your boobs, and the second time all you can think about is him picking you up, slamming you against the wall that separates his and Scott's rooms and fucking you until you scream and Scott wakes up.
"Oh, my God," Isaac moans loudly into your boobs after you're done, the two of you collapsed on the floor, which you're definitely going to have to wipe down.
"Shh!" you say, grabbing his shoulder in alarm and he stiffens for a second and then relaxes.
"Still asleep," he mumbles. "Just, God, I love your pussy."
You roll your eyes, because like he has much to compare it to.
"And that dress you wore tonight, not fair," Isaac continues sleepily. "I couldn't even jerk off when we got home. Not even in the shower, because you can still totally tell."
You raise your eyebrows even though he can't see you. "And how do you know that?"
Isaac is silent.
"Isaac!" you hiss, appalled. "You listen to him in the shower?!"
"Not on purpose," Isaac blatantly lies, kissing one of your nipples in a pathetic attempt at distraction.
You groan quietly, too tired to lecture him about how gross that is and push him off you so you can unsteadily get to your feet.
"Stay," Isaac says, sitting up while you pull on your pajama bottoms.
"I really shouldn't," you say half-heartedly, but he gives you this pleading look that you're unable to resist even in the dark. You give in with a sigh and let him pull you onto the air mattress and wrap himself around you under the blankets.
You wake up around dawn, Isaac snoring quietly in your ear, his right hand wrapped around one of your boobs. You smile despite yourself and snuggle back into him, feeling warm and safe and wanted. You don't want to get up, though you know you have to if you're to get back home in time so your parents don't realize you snuck out, but before you can muster the willpower to get up and look at Isaac's phone to see what time it is there's a soft knock on the door.
"Um," Scott says from behind the door, sounding incredibly uncomfortable, clearly able to tell you're there. "Hi. I just...uh...wanted to let you know that my mom's shift ends at 7:00, so she should be home soon, so..."
And just because she's decided to help you not get pregnant doesn't mean she'd be okay with you having sex in her house. You get out of bed quickly, your thighs aching, pull your t-shirt on and open the door.
"Hey," you say and Scott's eyes widen in surprise. He's wearing a shirt now and jeans. You're a little disappointed.
"Hi," Scott says, eyes moving past you to where Isaac is naked on the bed, still sleeping, and dart back to you quickly. "I just...uh, I'm not really sure how she'd react to you sleeping over, so..."
"Okay," you say easily, but don't move. You watch him shift uncomfortably and you burn. You want him and it irritates you that you can't have him. "Do you want to come in?"
Scott stops avoiding your gaze and stares at you. "What?"
You don't say anything, heart hammering in your chest, because did you really just say that? Scott looks utterly bewildered and you become suddenly aware that your knees are probably covered in bruises from last night and he can see them because your pajama bottoms only reach your mid-thigh, not to mention a picture of your hair is probably in the dictionary next to the definition of "sex hair."
Behind you Isaac groans in his sleep, mumbling nonsensically. The word "boobs" is unfortunately all too intelligible.
You turn around to look at him and watch him shift on the air mattress, reaching out for you, the sheet slipping down to reveal his left ass cheek.
"Uh, I'll go," Scott says and flees before you can even look back at him.
You close the door and look down at your knees. They are indeed bruised.
"Shit," you mouth, cringing because Do you want to come in? What is wrong with you?
"Why're you standing there?" Isaac asks sleepily, blinking up at you.
"I'll tell you later," you mouth and say: "I gotta go."
Isaac grumbles unhappily, but doesn't complain while you grab your keys and try to fix your hair.
"I'll see you at school Monday," you tell him and lean down to kiss him quickly. "Text me about tonight, okay?"
Tonight. The full moon. The first one since Scott became an alpha. True Alpha or whatever. You find it hard to believe it will be a problem, but what do you know?
You manage to get back home without your parents noticing and Isaac texts you around midnight to say that Scott's fine. It's a relief, but you're mostly concerned with your major faux pas this morning. He's totally going to think you're a crazy slut, you think miserably.
"Okay, what's wrong?" Lydia asks you the next afternoon, when you fail to react to her new haul of clothes from the outlet mall.
You wince. "I did something really stupid," you say, looking down at her bedspread instead of directly at her.
"You mean spending all night dancing with your boyfriend and another guy?" Lydia says, putting down her new skirt and sitting at the foot of her bed in front of you. "Oh, sweetheart, you know Isaac has a crush on Scott, don't you?"
"Yeah," you say with a shrug.
Her lips thin and you realize she's angry on your behalf. "You can do better than him," she tells you seriously. "Don't put up with that, you deserve better."
"It's not that," you say uncomfortably. "I...It'd be hypocritical of me to be mad at him for that considering I also...have a crush on Scott."
"Oh," Lydia says after a long pause. You glance up at her and she looks sort of bemused. You're not surprised-you doubt this kind of thing happens very often.
"Which he has probably figured out, since I sort of propositioned him yesterday morning," you admit shamefully.
"Oh," Lydia says again. "You...yesterday morning?"
"I snuck out to see Isaac," you say, closing your eyes, cheeks burning. "And ended up staying the night."
"Really," Lydia says, raising her eyebrows. "Okay, quick sidebar, he's getting you off, right? He has to be. You have so much sex with hi-"
"Lydia!" you protest, eyes snapping open to stare at her incredulously.
"I'm not judging," she says, holding up her hands defensively. "Obviously. I'm just so curious."
"I am very satisfied with my sex life," you tell her stiffly.
"Details, Allison, details," she says long-sufferingly. "Okay, fine, back to yesterday morning. What did you say? I have to admit I have a hard time imagining you propositioning anyone."
"He knocked on the door to tell us that his mom was going to be home soon and I sort of asked him to come in," you say awkwardly. "Isaac was still asleep."
"Ah," Lydia says, wincing a bit. "Not exactly propositioning, but sort of hard to pretend is anything else. What did he say?"
"He left," you reply glumly. "Isaac started waking up."
"But you wanted him to come in?" Lydia asks carefully. "With you and Isaac?"
"Yeah," you say, blushing.
"I've slept with a lot of guys, but I've never had a threesome," Lydia says contemplatively. "I don't think it'd really be my thing. I like super straight guys."
You let out a noncommittal grunt, not really interested in continuing this conversation.
"Scott, though?" Lydia asks you with a frown. "How long have you been interested in him?"
"A while," you say and smile despite yourself. "I thought he was cute when we first met, but then he handed me a pen-I'd been on the phone with my mother outside and I told her I couldn't find a pen- and I knew what he was. I tried to stay away from him after that. Figured it'd be safer."
"I had no idea," Lydia says mildly. "You've got a good poker face. Unlike your boyfriend. You should really tell him to stop looking at Scott like a piece of meat. Right now Stiles just thinks he's trying to steal his best friend, do you have any idea what he'll do when he figures out he wants to blow him?"
Which leaves you with that mental image, thank you very much, Lydia.
"Allison Argent," Lydia says slowly, a smirk spreading across her face. "You are full of surprises."
You roll your eyes. "Whatever," you sniff, trying to play it cool.
"He likes you, you know," Lydia offers quietly. Her tone is very bland, but you give her a cold look at the what she's implying.
"Just saying," Lydia says defensively.
Does he really, though? You know he used to, but a lot's happened since he asked you out all those months ago. You want him, but you know you can't have him. As far as you can tell he's straight. And...
Scott would never be with a murderer.
"Did you hurt your knee?" Lydia asks when she notices you winces when you shift up on the bed to make room for her to sit next to you.
"It's from the floor," you say without thinking.
Lydia raises her eyebrows at you.
You roll your eyes. "Air mattresses are not made for sex," you explain, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.
"...Uh huh," Lydia says, looking very surprised and it kind of amuses you.
"There's no carpet in his room," you continue casually. "So my knees are all bruised up. From kneeling. Over his face."
You get a special sort of joy from the scandalized look on Lydia Martin's face. Hey, she wanted details.
Scott won't quite meet your eyes the next day at lunch and you try to pretend it doesn't bother you, that everything is normal, but of course Isaac notices.
"What's up with you and Scott?" he asks after school, while you're sitting in the grass in the forest preserve with your Algebra II book, enjoying the last few days of warmth before it starts to get really cold.
"I..." you say, and try to figure out the best way to word it. "I...after Homecoming he knocked on your door to tell us that his mom would be coming home soon," you say, watching Isaac's face turn white. "And I...sort of invited him in."
For a second Isaac's brows furrow in confusion and then his eyes widen. "What?!" he hisses.
"I don't...I didn't think, I just," you say defensively, hiding your face in your hands. "He was just there and I wanted...but he left."
"No shit," Isaac says angrily and you look up in surprise to see him glaring at you and feel the bottom drop out of your stomach. "You know he's not...Allison, don't do that! I have to live there, you know. He can't know that I...that we..."
"I know that!" you snap automatically. "It was stupid, but I'm not the one who stares at him all the time with your...your...stupid heart eyes!"
"'Heart eyes?'" he repeats, bewildered.
"You know what I'm talking about," you say, but you regret bringing it up in the first place even though he really should stop. You glare down at your hands in your lap and hate this conversation.
"You shouldn't have done that," Isaac says, voice shaking with suppressed emotion. "You think he'll let me stay if he know...I don't, I don't have anywhere else to go, I can't stay with Derek again."
"He wouldn't do that," you say uncertainly, looking up at him again. He's angry with you, you realize, the pit of your stomach starting to feel cold. He's never been angry with you before. "I'm...I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have."
Isaac doesn't reply, just looks away from you, muscle in his jaw spasming.
"I'm sorry," you repeat, starting to feel really scared, because he's mad at you, he can't be mad at you.
You scoot over on the grass and wrap your arms around his waist, pressing in close so he's forced to look at you. "I'm sorry," you whisper, your breath ghosting his cheek.
"Fine," Isaac grunts, not making eye contact.
You press your face into his neck and don't let go of him. "I'm really sorry."
He lets out an annoyed puff of breath, stiff under your hands. "Alright, Allison, fine," he says impatiently, putting a hand on your shoulder to pry you off him.
You don't let go and take a page out of his book, nuzzling at his neck insistently.
Isaac lets off a soft groan and scoffs. "Allison, okay," he says, putting his hand on your back and patting it awkwardly.
"I'm sorry," you mumble and feel his neck warm under your lips.
"This is...you're just..." Isaac says weakly, fingers clenching at the small of your back and then gives up and ducks down to kiss you.
You drag him down on top of you right in the middle of the forest preserve and undo his belt one handed, sticking your hand down his boxers to cup him. Isaac moans loudly and hardens in your hand, and you pull him out and jerk him off for a bit, enjoying the way his body gives little jerks every once and a while and the way he moans into your neck. He's heavy, but he feels good on top of you, even though there's a stick digging into your back, and you kind of weirdly like the feel of his dick in your hand. It's good, but you know it could be better, if your really want to show how sorry you are. It's not a hard decision at all, and after a minute you roll him onto his back and slide down to give him an apology blowjob.
It's pretty gross and you are objectively terrible at it, but Isaac doesn't seem to mind by the way he squeaks "Allison!" and then spends the next two minutes or so moaning obnoxiously. You can't really fit that much of his dick in his mouth and you keep choking when he thrusts up into your mouth unexpectedly, but thankfully he doesn't last too long. Though you would have appreciated some warning before he comes in your mouth.
"Jesus," Isaac gasps as you spit out his come onto the grass and try not to gag because gross.
You resist the urge to bitch about the taste and just wipe your mouth and crawl up his body to nuzzle at his neck again.
Isaac groans weakly and wraps his arms around your waist, skin very hot to the touch.
"Remind me to get mad at you more often," he says, sounding dazed, and you scowl and pinch him in the side. "Ow."
"I really didn't mean to," you mumbles after a pause, not removing your face from his neck. "It just...slipped out."
"Yeah, okay," Isaac says wearily and slides his hands up your shirt to take off your bra.
A/N: Long chapter is long. I think I crammed too much into one chapter, but oh well, it was fun. Please review!