Living in the pack house wasn't going to be a permanent thing.

At least, that's what Scott told himself every day.

It wasn't even a funny story that landed him there, either.

It wasn't that Scott lacked intelligence… he just didn't test well. In fact, he had the worst timing for tests imaginable. Very nearly every time he'd had to take some major exam for one class or another, his mind would become preoccupied with a mess of more important things—like how to survive the night.

So, really, how was he supposed to concentrate during not only his SATs but the ACTs as well?

Like, honestly, who decided he had to take TWO college placement tests? At that point, he wanted nothing more than to just enroll himself into community college. It's not like he really knew what he wanted to do anyway, right? He could take his basic classes and get those out of the way before he figured his future out. He had half a mind to get up and walk out of the testing room before the time limit was up but that would look too suspicious. There were security guards. In a high school? During a test?

Honestly?

Either way, Scott spent more time blinking at the exam in front of him and wondering how much time had passed than doing actual work so when the test results came back just before Senior graduation, he wasn't at all surprised to see the low marks. He didn't take it too harshly. He at least scored higher than the monkey and that's what really mattered, right?

Everyone else threw their scores around like they were Olympic medals. Everyone basically meant Stiles.

Scott's score had landed him in community college, just like he'd thought all along. Couldn't he have saved himself the headache and just skipped the tests entirely?

No, the universe had had it out for him since sixteen. He should have known.

And so, his mother, who had far too much faith in her son, had been counting on Scott leaving the house after high school. She expected something more like a dorm or possibly off-campus housing. She hadn't expected Scott to beg for the car to start commuting.

What else could he do but move out, right?

And Derek had been so accommodating. It was absolutely horrible.

A pack house. For someone like Derek, who had been born a wolf, pack meant everything. Over the years he and Scott had had dozens of conversations about how important a pack meant to a werewolf. Two years and Scott still refused to join Derek.

And yet, they ended up working together on everything and Scott felt like Derek was pack completely by accident. Maybe that was why Derek asked Scott to live in the pack house with him. Derek probably knew, the smug asshole.

Either way, the pack house wasn't so horrible once Scott grew accustomed to it. Erica, Boyd, and Isaac all had rooms. Peter had a suite. It figured.

Stiles, Jackson, Lydia and Allison hadn't joined the house accommodations. They were all smart enough to not only get into colleges outside of Beacon Hills, but to win scholarships to help with the cost (the fact that Jackson received a lacrosse scholarship made Scott's blood boil—mostly because he'd been offered the same scholarship but didn't meet the grade requirements).

Losing Stiles had a great impact on Scott's social life. Over the last two years of high school, he'd been lucky enough to branch out and gain a few more friends (mostly of the lycanthrope variety) but Stiles had been a staple throughout his life. Stiles' attention to detail and affinity for research had helped Scott out so much in the past that he was actually fearful for what he'd do if another life or death situation arose.

Didn't people say that starting college was supposed to be like embarking on a new adventure?

Whoever decided sharing a house with a bunch of werewolves was going to be an exciting adventure was going to receive one swift kick in the face from Scott McCall.

Nothing good could come out of living in a house with the werewolf responsible for single-handedly ruining Scott's life (or did Peter make it better? Scott stopped trying to weight he pros and cons of the bite last year when the lacrosse team won State). Besides, Derek's smug attitude made the entire house stink. When Scott agreed to move in, it was like he missed the fine print where it stated that Derek was his alpha. Scott refused to believe it, so he just let Derek gloat. He'd learn. On top of it all, he had to deal with Erica and Boyd making schmoopy eyes at each other at all hours of the day. It was living in his own personal hell.

But then there was Isaac.

Throughout high school Isaac had been a great confidant and even greater friend. There were a few times when Scott actually preferred Isaac's company to Stiles'. Isaac understood what it was like to be a wolf, even if he had a completely different opinion on the bite.

The problem with Isaac was that he was TOO great… as if that were even possible. Because even after the entire world seemed to explode right in Isaac's face, he remained too fucking positive for his own good.

Every time something shitty happened in Scott's life, it seemed to hit Isaac ten times harder. Scott's father was a judgmental and emotionally abusive asshole whereas Isaac's father physically abused him and stuffed him in a freezer. Scott's father left one day, never to return… and Isaac's father was actually dead. If Scott had problems wolfing out during lacrosse practice then Isaac was already ripping through his gloves. It was like Isaac lived to one-up Scott.

On that theory, if Scott simply thought that Isaac was a pretty cool guy to be around, then Scott obviously had to be Isaac's best friend.

If he'd been a bit more observant, he would have guessed that Isaac was waiting for the day Stiles went off to a private college.

But he wasn't, so when Isaac was beside himself with joy to have Scott move in, then Scott was oblivious about it. Seeing Isaac excited about something was a good thing and Scott really didn't want to have to think too much about it. He just wanted to enjoy it.

And, really, when Isaac offered to take boxes upon boxes of Scott's things to his room to him, then who was Scott to refuse him? And when Isaac even offered to help unpack Scott sure as hell wasn't going to say no. He hated unpacking. And when Scott became distracted in the unpacking process by the intense need to re-thread his lacrosse stick and Isaac had to do most of the actual work, well, Scott was just grateful.

It wasn't until Isaac was putting comics away on a bookshelf that Scott snapped his eyes away from his lacrosse stick and acknowledged just what it was that Isaac was doing—and how much he'd gotten finished.

"Dude," Scott said, a bit bewildered. "Did you actually hang up my clothes for me?"

"They'd get wrinkled if I didn't," Isaac said offhandedly as he shuffled through a few comic titles. Then, as if he'd actually realized what he'd said, he tore his eyes away from a scantily clothed Scarlet Witch and shrugged it off. He looked flushed. Yeah, Scarlet Witch did that to Scott, too. "You have too many clothes anyway."

"You can borrow some if you want," Scott offered. He and Stiles would often wear each other's t-shirts when they'd had impromptu sleepovers… which reminded Scott, Stiles still had his Captain America shirt, the thief.

Isaac chuckled. He'd been doing that a lot, lately, or at least ever since Scott moved in. It was like Isaac followed him around with a continuous laugh track. It was great, but usually Scott was the one laughing at Stiles. It was strange for the tables to have turned. "I don't think your clothes will fit me."

"Oh, yeah? What's that, you're calling me fat?"

"I'm calling you short."

Scott stood up and stalked over to Isaac. Seeing as Isaac was sitting cross-legged on the floor and covered in piles of comic books, Scott must have looked intimidating from the ground. Isaac was even blushing harder, now—a sure sign of Scott's overpowering presence! Scott grinned down at him. "Who's short, now?"

Isaac's eyesight took a few moments to reach Scott's eyes. It was like his gaze was stuck somewhere around Scott's middle. He swallowed hard, probably biting back a not-so-clever comeback. Or, rather, Isaac usually had a good comeback. Scott was often impressed with his wit and the fact that he didn't get a good quip after should have raised a flag in Scott's mind, but it didn't. Isaac shoved the remainder of the comics from his lap and stood up flush with Scott. "Say that to my face."

Of course he had to stand up and ruin everything Scott had worked so hard to achieve. It was Scott's turn to crane his neck upward to look at Isaac properly, but he refused to back down. No, he was going to keep his gaze forward and not give in to Isaac's super tall demands.

Except that gaze meant looking directly at Isaac's crooked smirk and his soft chin. Scott had never been this close to Isaac without any lacrosse gear on. It was different.

It was strong.

And, well, a little intimidating, which was off-putting because Scott was supposed to be the one feeling intimidating.

"Fine, don't wear my clothes," Scott said eventually and pressed his hands to Isaac's chest, shoving him away. Isaac stumbled backwards in a way that suggested he had little to no balance, but Scott realized a quick second too late that it was because Isaac was doing everything in his power not to step on any of Scott's comics behind him.

In some desperate attempt at balance, Isaac flailed forward. With both their werewolf reflexes, the entire moment seemed to happen in slow motion. Isaac's hand fisted itself into Scott's shirt, pulling him forward and Scott immediately took a step back to compensate for the added weight. The result was not having an Isaac fall to the floor and accidentally bend the corners of all of Scott's precious comics—it was Isaac pulling his body to Scott's in some kind of awkward flailing hug.

Scott braced himself as Isaac's arms draped themselves around his shoulders to keep his balance. Scott hadn't been living in the pack house for more than a few days and he'd already been closer to Isaac than he had for the past two years. If this was how it was going to be all the time, Scott had no idea how he'd deal.

Because, really, he'd hugged Stiles all the time. Hugging didn't necessarily signify anything romantic. He hugged people out of relief or happiness or grief. Hugging was just… it was hugging. There was some kind of unwritten rule that any hug over three seconds was just awkward and—

-he felt Isaac's sharp inhale and his chest expanded further into Scott's. Was Isaac—did he just sniff him?

So not only was the hug far too long to be considered comfortable, but Isaac was smelling him.

It was a pack thing. It had to be. Derek mentioned something about scenting and blah blah blah. If Scott was going to be living with him, he'd have to deal with the other's being close to him.

This was probably one of those times.

Definitely NOT something he ever did with Stiles.

Rather than shove Isaac off and have to deal with everything all over again, Scott gave Isaac an awkward pat on the back. Because, really, Isaac smelled wonderful, too. If it were up to Scott, he would take a big whiff of the area just at his hairline, where the scent was strongest. He never wanted to sniff Stiles like that, though. Probably because Stiles smelled awful most days. "You okay?"

That seemed to bring Isaac back to the present. He snapped backward and held Scott at arm's length like he'd only just now realized what he'd been doing. "I'm okay. You okay?"

Scott raised an eyebrow. "I'm fine." Except he really wasn't. The room was too hot and stuffy and he really wanted to go make himself a sandwich just to have something to keep his hands occupied. They were currently at his sides and unsure if they needed to clench themselves into fists or just… something.

Isaac broke the tension by giving Scott a little shake and finally letting go of him. Scott wanted to retreat to the corner of his bed and completely re-thread his lacrosse stick again because just… what the hell happened?

"Want me to finish in here?" Isaac asked, more to the pile of comics than to Scott.

Scott cleared his throat because, for some strange reason, it felt like he had a mouth full of peanut butter and nothing wanted to get out. "No, I uh, I'm good. Thanks for helping, though, you're the best."

Isaac beamed but he still looked hurt. Scott was ruining things. If he lost Isaac because he couldn't handle a simple hug Scott would turn into a cynical pile of emotions and hatred. And that took a lot of effort. "Okay," Isaac said, but he didn't look it. "I'll be in my room if you need me."

And he left. Fast.

Scott cursed the ceiling. He'd known Isaac for how many years now and why was it suddenly so hard to talk to him?

Would it look too needy and clingy for him to chase after Isaac and apologize? Scott didn't know how to handle these things. He'd had one girlfriend in his life and she turned out to be the opposite of a perfect relationship and the one best friend he'd ever had… had up and left him for higher education and all around improving his life. His options for people to run to were quite few.

In the end, Scott decided he was going to finish unpacking his things and then go apologize to Isaac by offering to do something fun… like paintball. Nothing could go wrong with paintball.

Okay, so Isaac didn't like paintball, but he seemed overjoyed that Scott came to apologize. And when Scott said overjoyed he really meant vaguely happy. Suddenly, it became incredibly important for Scott to make Isaac smile again. It couldn't be that hard…

Except over the next few weeks it became increasingly harder to get Isaac to smile.

Scott missed the beginning of the semester when the homework was light and he was still coming down from his I'm-finally-out-on-my-own high. He missed Isaac laughing at everything he said. By mid-terms, if anything, Isaac was avoiding him.

Of course, it made studying by himself a bit easier, but Scott hated it. He'd tried studying with Erica once but she wasn't exactly the best study partner—especially since she didn't take any of the same classes as Scott. Boyd helped whenever he could, but he unfairly joined the wrestling team and they were apparently deep in the middle of the season and he was never around.

Derek had offered to help once, and Scott shut him down. Fast.

It wasn't just studying, though, and it wasn't just that Scott needed to be social. Over the weeks, Isaac seemed to really hit a rough patch and Scott had no idea how to fix it mostly because Isaac wasn't talking to him about it.

Whenever they spoke, it was about simple things… comics, the weather, the coming full moon… anything safe. Scott didn't know how to bring up the fact that Isaac was losing weight… that his eyes looked sunken in more than usual and that he really, really needed to exercise his smiling muscles because Scott practically forgot what Isaac looked like when he was smiling.

Scott knew he had an addictive personality. He'd inherited it from his alcoholic father. It was just his own luck that he'd been plagued with lycanthropy and therefore his body metabolized the alcohol too fast to get him drunk. His addictions took the form of different things over time. It had been Iron Man when he was in his early teens, and when he was sixteen, it had obviously been Allison. After Allison, lacrosse took over as his number one passion. The supernatural never counted, to him, as an addiction because it was now just a normal thing that happened to him every day, like having brown eyes.

But now, his addiction was Isaac's happiness. He'd become so invested in making Isaac happy that it was like having a social life all over again. Isaac was just making it very, very hard.

It wasn't just some goal, either. When Isaac came home late from classes at night with a face so long it practically dragged on the floor, it physically pained Scott. Something twisted around in his gut with such force that Scott almost didn't want to look at him.

He had to fix it. He had to make it better. He couldn't stand it anymore.

It was raining the night Scott finally decided to do something more than just make feeble attempts at starting a conversation.

He had a large gap between his last two classes and he usually spent the time lounging around campus or going home for free food (which wasn't free at all, but it was certainly less expensive than the school cafeteria) but with the rain coming down in cold early winter sheets, Scott really didn't want to deal with the traffic and so he'd found himself sitting at an empty table in the cafeteria absentmindedly watching a group of girls try to impress anyone who walked by their table.

Right when he thought he'd seen enough hair flips to last him a lifetime, a mop of curly dirty blonde hair appeared just above the sea of newcomers. It was time.

Weaving in and out of the students came as easily as breathing. Scott actually enjoyed dodging the bulging backpacks and groups of friends. He thought that spinning around students and dodging waving hands should be an Olympic sport but only because he really wanted a gold medal and possibly the prize money that came along with it, taxes be damned.

When he caught up with Isaac, he placed a friendly had on his shoulder, glad that there were so many people around them that he didn't have to drown in the depression bubble that surrounded the taller werewolf.

Scott did catch a whiff of it, though, and frowned. When Isaac didn't even turn around, Scott frowned further.

"Hey," he tried. If Isaac wasn't going to respond to touch, then he was going to respond to Scott's voice, right? "You in a hurry?"

"I have somewhere I need to be," Isaac said. Well, it was a start. At least he said something.

"What, class? I thought you were done for the day." Scott didn't memorize Isaac's schedule. Really.

Isaac finally turned his head toward Scott, but he kept up his pace. "I have to go home and prepare for a job interview, alright?"

Scott stopped in his tracks, causing a petite girl with thick black glasses to bump into him from behind. He whispered a hasty apology to her and jogged to catch up with Isaac again. "A job interview? I didn't know you were looking."

That was definitely not the right thing to say, because Isaac's feet started walking faster. Scott cursed the fact that Isaac had long legs. Scott could easily keep up, but his legs had to move at a faster pace and he looked more like he was jogging than walking. The last thing he needed was for some nosy professor to yell at him about running in the halls. Did they do that at college? Community College felt enough like High School already, minus the school spirit. For all Scott knew, he couldn't chew gum in class, either.

"Isaac, come on," Scott panted, trying not to really show that he was getting winded. Was it possible for a werewolf to be out of shape? Maybe it was nerves. He was nervous about getting Isaac to talk to him and it made breathing difficult. That sounded about right. Scott went with that explanation. "Maybe I could help? I can see if Deaton knows anyone—"

"I don't need your handouts, okay?" Isaac spat, sounding angrier than Scott had heard in years. He'd almost forgotten Isaac could even get that mad. The intended effect worked, however, because Scott backed off.

"I just thought I could help," Scott frowned. He hated watching Isaac's retreating form attempt to disappear into the crowd in front of them. And then he learned it was a bad idea to stop walking in the middle of a crowded hallway because people started to shove at him so that they could reach their classes on time. In no time, Isaac was gone.

Frustrated, Scott pulled out his cell phone and hastily sent Isaac a message that he would probably regret later but at the moment he was angry and he just let his anger do all the talking.

Jerk.

Scott figured that after a couple of years, he'd have gotten used to the whole werewolf thing. After all, it wasn't just something that happened for a few months or so. No, this was his life, now. And on top of it, he lived with werewolves so it wasn't even like he could just pretend it didn't exist. Nevertheless, there were certain aspects to lycanthropy that complete eluded him.

Super speed happened to be one of them.

So when Isaac was suddenly standing in front of Scott again, his eyes blazing, it actually surprised him. Isaac looked so mad Scott wouldn't doubt it if he had smoke coming out his ears. In fact, Scott made sure to double check just in case. It also helped him avert his gaze from the steely glare of Isaac's clearly glowing eyes.

"Jerk?" Isaac's lips curled away from his teeth like even they were afraid of his tone of voice. Scott swallowed hard.

"Did… did I send that to you?" Scott's voice squeaked a little bit. He'd finished puberty years ago. Why did that even have to happen? "I meant to send that to Stiles."

Isaac didn't believe him. Scott could tell, mostly because Isaac exhaled loudly through his nose and said, "Don't lie to me." It was a dead giveaway anyway.

"Look, I'm just trying to talk to you," Scott took a step back to get a little bit of air because really, Isaac was crowding him. Did he have to be so close all the time? Well, actually, Scott didn't mind him being close. It was the being close thing that Scott actually missed. He just didn't like Isaac being close like this.

"Well, you've got my attention," Isaac said, still obviously angry, but less on the side of wanting to bite Scott's face off. He looked more impatient than anything.

This was exactly what Scott wanted, right? He wanted to have a good, decent conversation with Isaac and now he was going to get it. Except, he hadn't really prepared any cue cards and while that wasn't exactly a normal thing to do, Scott suddenly found himself at a loss for words and really wishing he had something. Anything. A teleprompter, even.

Instead, he sighed and started from the top of things. "Why are you so angry, anyway? I thought we were friends." Really, they'd already had that conversation. It was like Scott had to constantly remind Isaac of the friendship they held just in case Isaac forgot—which he seemed to. Frequently.

"We are friends," Isaac said, his anger physically ebbing away. His eyes softened and he'd stopped raising his voice. It probably helped that the crowded hallways were slowly thinning out and they no longer needed to yell to be heard. Then again, when Scott concentrated, he didn't really have too much trouble hearing just one person in the cacophony of the hallway.

Scott raised his eyebrows at Isaac in hopes that they would do all the talking for him. He really hoped they said, Then why are you being a jerk and ignoring me in favor of being depressed?

But instead of answering his eyebrow's obvious question, Isaac said, "Are you ok?"

Scott blinked. "What?"

"Your eyebrows won't stop moving."

Scott threw his hands in the air. He was five hundred percent finished with everything. He had to get out of the hallway and somewhere where they didn't have to dodge people in the middle of the hallway. He managed to get a hold of Isaac's coat and pull him off to the side next to a bulletin board advertising study abroad options in Spain.

"Look, I miss you, okay?" Scott started up again, leaning against picture of a colorful senorita.

Isaac was distinctly staring at Scott despite the multitude of visual Spanish stimuli. "Okay?"

Oh wow, Scott was going to have to spell everything out. Isaac probably just wanted to hear it all said out loud. Double jerk. "I hate seeing you so down all the time. Just… tell me what to do to make things okay again. I don't even know if you've noticed, but it's kind of been weighing on me."

"I haven't noticed," Isaac deadpanned.

"Well, gee, thanks," Scott retorted. He shoved at Isaac a little bit, forcing himself to smile. "I didn't do anything to piss you off, did I?"

Isaac was silent for a moment, but when he opened his mouth to speak, Scott could tell he was fully prepared to spill everything. "I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at… at everything."

Okay. Progress. "Explain."

"I'm not sure I picked the right major for one. My classes are more demanding than I realized and my professors are unforgiving. One of them decided that nearly every month required a large paper due around the full moon. Then, you know, I need to pull my weight at home with a job. So… hence the job interview."

"Oh," Scott nodded slowly. "So… stress?"

"I hate summing it up in one word, but yes."

Scott couldn't help himself. He started beaming, his teeth poking through his lips. He clapped Isaac on his shoulders and shook him a little bit. "Don't stress, man! That's what friends are for, right? You can come to me about anything! I'll do what I can to help!"

Isaac still looked bewildered. "Like I said, I don't do handouts."

"Ugh, it's not a handout. I'm volunteering my service. Let me service you."

Both boys were silent for a full ten seconds. It was Isaac who laughed first. It was the type of laugh that forced you to throw your head back and just let go.

"I didn't mean it like that!" Scott said. He knew Isaac knew better but it still felt mandatory to point it out anyway.

"Regardless of any servicing," Isaac said, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "I still need to go to this job interview."

"You'll nail it," Scott grinned. That one was on purpose.

"How do you know?" Isaac inquired. Scott watched his own grin become mirrored on Isaac's face and he swelled with pride. There was the laughter and smiles he'd been missing since the semester started. They looked really good on him. In fact, that sounded like something he should let Isaac know.

"Smiling looks good on you," Scott said matter-of-factly. "And if you're in a good mood, maybe they'll decide you'll be awesome. So just… smile, and charm them. Let them see the Isaac I know. They'll hire you."

Isaac's eyes looked a little damp, but maybe it was the bright yellow from the bulletin board, or possibly the neon piñata. "Thank you, Scott. Really."

Scott waved it off. "What are best friends for?"

That night, Scott was hard at work writing a paper for English Comp by watching fail videos on YouTube. At least he had a tab opened with a Word Document open on his computer, so he at least started on the paper. Nevermind that the document contained nothing other than his name and the date.

It took him a few seconds to realize that Isaac was even standing in the doorway. He'd been engrossed in someone completely forgetting the proper etiquette for a trampoline that he hadn't even noticed the discreet cough.

Scott did a double-take when he finally did take note of Isaac's presence, mostly because the curly haired teen was silently screaming with excitement.

"Dude," Scott swiveled around in his desk chair and held thumb out. He wiggled his hand between a thumbs up and a thumbs down sign.

Isaac gave him a double thumbs up.

"Sweet!" Scott exclaimed, launching himself from the desk chair straight at Isaac. He was not only thrilled that Isaac nailed his interview just like Scott said he would but also because apparently their non-verbal communication was getting better and that was worth celebrating.

He wasn't even thinking about it when he went to hug Isaac. The way Isaac's hands wrapped themselves around Scott's waist also indicated that he wasn't really thinking about it, either. Scott just wanted to hug. When he realized what he'd done, though, he pulled back.

"Woah, sorry. Congrats, man," he sputtered. To make things even more awkward, he even held his hand out for Isaac to shake.

Isaac laughed and shook his head. "I don't mind. I like your hugs."

"Oh thank God," Scott let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. The last thing he needed was a repeat of the last few months. He'd just gotten back on talking terms. He didn't want to ruin it with a hug. "I like hugging you. It's nice. You're warm."

Isaac scrunched his face up which was definitely not the reaction Scott was going for. "Do you even know what you say half the time?"

"Not really, but I mean what I say." It made sense in Scott's head. Honestly. "Look, I'm sorry you've been having such a hard time adjusting, and I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when I really should have been. I guess I just had the wrong idea. But I'm here now, right?"

Isaac just smiled at him. "Right." In fact, the way he smiled gave Scott a familiar twist in his gut. It wasn't that he wanted Isaac to smile like that all the time—it was that he really wanted Isaac to smile at him like that. Like this was just a private thing Isaac's face did solely for the pleasure of Scott McCall.

Scott licked his lips and stepped to the side, one hand gesturing for Isaac to come into his room in an open invitation. "You wanna hang out? I'm writing a paper."

Isaac's eyes flicked to the computer. "You're on YouTube."

"Research," Scott countered quickly. He made a mad dash for his desk and shut his laptop quickly and stood in front of it. "We could watch a movie?"

"Or I could help you with your paper." Isaac took one step into the room, but there was so much command in that step that Scott wished he could morph backward into his desk just to back up a little bit more. He couldn't let anyone see his scared face, though, so he put on a brave look and even turned up his nose a little bit.

"Sounds boring."

"Or you could fail."

Scott rolled his eyes. "Stop making sense."

In the end, he gave in. Isaac worked with him for over an hour on how to start his essay with the proper format. He even sat through all of Scott's mini tantrums and denied Scott the right to go into the kitchen for a fifteen, thirty, thirty five, forty, and fifty minute break. Isaac was, in short, the best and the worst friend all wrapped into one curly headed package.

At ten Scott closed the laptop with a sense of finality that indicated Isaac should stop talking about transitional phrases.

"This isn't even due until Monday," he pointed out. "But thanks anyway, man. I owe you one."

"Nah," Isaac shoved at Scott a little with his shoulder. "We're even, now."

Scott shot Isaac a look. "I didn't even do anything." He really didn't. He'd kind of pissed Isaac off in the hallway until he finally shook a little bit of happiness into him. Scott didn't count that as really doing anything productive other than the fact that it brought Isaac back to him. So, well, maybe it was something.

"You made me feel important again," Isaac said softly. Scott watched him hard. They playful banter and joking was over. Isaac was being deadly serious and it had a sobering effect on him. "Like I mattered enough to keep trying."

Scott couldn't stop his jaw from dropping. "You were thinking of… of giving up?" The very idea was preposterous to him.

Isaac kept looking from Scott to his lap as if he couldn't make up his mind on where to look. If Isaac were Allison, Scott would have grabbed his chin and tilted his face upward to force their eyes to meet. He wanted to be sure that Isaac heard all of his words but he also didn't know if that was the right move or not. Did someone do that to guys that were just friends?

"Maybe," Isaac answered. "Things were pretty bad there for a while."

Scott decided, fuck it all to hell, and reached forward. Instead of taking a hold of Isaac's chin, though, he managed to grab his face with both hands and sort of jerked it upward in a way that must not have been comfortable, but at least his point was made. "You should have come to me. Why didn't you come to me?"

"I didn't think you cared."

"You didn't- what?!" Scott let go of Isaac's face in favor of standing up. He knew it probably wasn't a good idea to point out all the reasons why Isaac was so obviously wrong, but he couldn't help himself. "You mean everything to me and suddenly you decide you're just going to shut me out of your life? Did I ever SAY I didn't care?"

Isaac gave Scott a look that was borderline, I let myself be vulnerable to you and this is how you react? I'm thinking about running into my room and punching a hole in my wall. Obviously, Scott was better at reading facial expressions than Isaac was at reading eyebrows.

"Okay, look, I'm sorry. Bottom line is, I care. I'm a bit hurt that you'd think otherwise because I think you're awesome even if your idea of a good time is making me write grammatically correct sentences."

That must have been the right bucket of water to douse the fire because Isaac didn't run away. He still looked sad, though, and Scott couldn't figure out for the life of him WHY.

"So, to be clear on this," Isaac said eventually. "We're friends?"

"YES!" Scott threw his hands in the air in exasperation. Reminder number three hundred and twelve. "How many times do I have to say it before it finally sticks?"

Isaac didn't answer right away. He took a moment to let the question mull in his head for a while. Scott almost grew impatient but the sharp intake of breath Isaac made indicated that he was about to speak so Scott held off on another exasperating lecture. Isaac was still sitting so he had to look up at Scott, but he did so in a way that meant he didn't need to move his head, only peer at him through his lashes. He looked oddly seductive. Seductive in a way that was possibly effective.

"Just… friends?"

Scott was about to immediately answer with YES but he stopped. Instead, he made a noise that closely resembled. "Ye—oh."

Oh.

Well, that. Well, things. Well, everything. It made sense. Did Isaac like him like that? Had he always liked him like that? Or maybe he didn't like him like that and he wanted to be sure that Scott didn't feel the same way so that things wouldn't be awkward? Except for the whole part where now things were awkward anyway and Scott had no idea how to really deal with any of it.

It explained why Isaac seemed so upset when Scott ever did anything that so obviously denied any advances. Stiles pulled the same crap with him all the time and never got upset about it, but Stiles wasn't in love with him, either.

There he was on that road that Isaac was in love with him. He hadn't actually said anything… but Scott couldn't deny the way those blue eyes were looking at him.

He probably let his mouth bob open and shut for too long because all at once Isaac stopped looking at him and stood up. He brushed the wrinkles from his clothes as if he hadn't just asked a completely revealing question. "Sorry for asking. Of course we're friends. Thanks for the heads up about the interview. I start work next week."

Scott's mind was still on another track entirely but he heard his mouth say, "What kind of job did you get?"

"I strip for the paper."

Scott did a double take. "What?"

"I de-li-ver the pa-per," Isaac enunciated slowly. "You know, like in Paperboy? Only I don't get points if I knock old people off their porch swing."

"Oh," Of course that's what he said. Scott really needed some time alone to think about things. A lot of things. Possibly even Isaac doing what he thought he heard in the first place.

"Get some sleep," Isaac said. He sounded so normal. Maybe it was because Scott was freaking out so much that he though Isaac sounded nonchalant. Scott couldn't really tell. There was a ringing in his ears.

"Sleep. Yeah. Sleep. Okay. Goodnight, Isaac."

"Goodnight, Scott."

Scott didn't sleep for a long time. He even turned his computer off and shut his door and turned off the lights but nothing worked. He lay in his bed for a half an hour just staring at the ceiling before he figured he was too hot and stripped down to his boxers. Even then the room was too hot. He thought about opening a window and jumping outside to cool off. Maybe even a good shift into his wolfy side would be relaxing for him. He'd never done that before—shifted to relieve tension.

He couldn't close his eyes and picture anyone else. All he could see was the curls of Isaac's hair, the blue of his eyes, the strength of his jaw. It was like Isaac flipped some obsessive switch in him. At first Scott was just invested in his happiness and now suddenly he was just invested in everything Isaac.

How the hell did that Lahey bastard even plant this seed in Scott's mind? He'd gone through his entire life happily interested in breasts and here Isaac didn't even have any and Scott didn't even mind.

Seriously. There was something wrong with him, and it was all Isaac's fault.

The worst of it was that he couldn't even avoid Isaac about it. He promised he'd be there for the guy after all. There was no getting around it. He'd just have to sort this out the only way he knew how: by shoving his hand into his boxers to relieve a steadily growing problem.

It didn't take long. After all, Scott's room still smelled heavily of Isaac. The problem was that he tried to look over at something—anything that would remind him of the female anatomy. He even tried to focus on a Scarlet Witch comic he had lying on the floor but that only reminded him of Isaac helping him unpack and how Isaac was sitting at just the perfect height to—

-and that was it.

As Scott cleaned himself up with the almost mandatory tissues next to his bed, he had no idea if he was supposed to feel liberated or ashamed.

He'd have to find out in the morning.