author's note: So in case you readers haven't notice, allisaac has been on my mind a lot lately, which is lucky for all of you because I've been in the creative mood these past few days. I tried to basing this story more from Isaac's point of view. Anyway, happing reading! xxx

[Easy Water]

Words aren't exactly Isaac's thing.

He learns early on in life that he never fails to say the wrong thing.

Like the time he's eight and he and his family go out to dinner—meals at restaurants are rather rare—and halfway through the meal, Camden teaches him a new word he says he learned from his friends at school. He convinces the younger boy that both their mother and father will be impressed if he says it to the server waiting their table. The moment the new word, beginning with the letter f and ending with a k, passes his lips, soda spurts out of his mother's mouth, while his father's face goes from strawberry red to fire truck red. Camden, on the other hand, almost falls out of his seat from laughing so hard. After the spanking he receives later that evening, he makes a promise to himself—and partially to his parents—he will never use the curse word again.

He finds out a few years later words are especially good at making sure he'll never get a girlfriend, let alone even talk to a girl. His speech always comes out a jumbled mess—nearly as bad as the lasagna his dad cooks—leaving him dateless, and well, girl-less. Sometimes he imagines himself finally stringing together the right syllables to ask Lydia Martin to the movies, but his fantasy soon disappears after he overhears one of the boys in his class say he managed to convince the redhead to go out with him. The boy's name is Jackson Whittemore.

Almost every word around his father after his mother passes away, though, is the worst. Luckily he has Cam to get his back; to save him from getting pushed down their staircase, to protect him from every blow to the cheek and kick to the stomach. His older brother is who keeps him from going completely insane. Then worse goes to absolute hell with the letter that shows up in their mailbox, informing his dad Cam is dead. Dead. He died. In combat. He's gone and never coming back.

Isaac lives in constant fear of words. Words he says and words said to him. Because words could result in him getting locked in the basement freezer or punched in the face. He's cautious at school, purposefully staying away from any possibility of friendship. His words aren't good enough for friends. They aren't good enough for anybody.

Then he gets bitten by the werewolf whose name is Derek, hoping and praying things will take a turn for the better in his screwed up life. The change ends up being remarkable. For once he's not terrified to speak what's on his mind. He no longer has to worry about his mental father, only about his new pack, who all seem to care about him. The boy can't remember the last time he's felt so confident and secure.

His newfound boldness is short lived, however, yet it doesn't dissolve altogether as the chaos in Beacon Hills unfolds. He's able to fight back, protecting others from the enemy just as Camden had done for him those few short years ago. He manages to help save Boyd and Cora from Deucalion with his words. His words are capable of convincing Scott to let him crash with him after Derek kicks him out.

But there is one person who constantly leaves him at a loss for words.

They get caught up in her mango-scented, brunette hair. They sink in her deep, brown eyes. They beg to be stuck on her pale skin, her rosy lips…

When they almost kiss in her bedroom, he can't help but wish his words would talk some sense into brain. His best friend is her freaking ex-boyfriend, of course she doesn't want to kiss him. Except this doesn't stop him from pulling one of the most impulsive and stupid moves he's ever made. He takes off his shirt, desiring some kind of reaction from her, any kind of reaction, and the organ in his chest beats furiously when she reciprocates the action. Words prove to be meaningless at the moment between the two them. It's awkwardly interrupted though when her father—damn it her father—comes walking in on the scene. He can't even remember what words are then.

As time goes on, talking becomes easier around her. He thinks is due to the fact he's accepted he'll always be at a loss for words when he's with her, and maybe, that's not such a bad thing. They talk for hours into the early morning about everything. Isaac share's things about his life he's refused to tell anybody else, letting her know about all of it. From every name he was called to every punishment he endured. Sometimes they can't control their laughter and other times they're in tears.

He knows Scott assumes they're doing the dirty whenever he shows up the late the next morning except it doesn't appear to bother him too much, or at least he doesn't let on that it does. Scott spends a majority of his time with Kira.

In reality, Allison and him typically fell asleep fully clothed, her in his arms, on her couch or in her bed. They're both afraid of Mr. Argent walking in on them again if they try, well, what they tried last time.

Their feelings toward each other are obvious, however, neither are quite sure how to act upon whatever they share.

So he does it. He finds enough courage inside himself to walk toward her locker and—

"Hey Alls," he smiles widely, leaning against the dull gray metal, his heart picking up its pace.

She grins, setting one of her heavy textbooks on the small shelf and looks up at him, "Isaac," she greets him in reply.

He suddenly fears he isn't going to be able to do this. No. He could and he would.

"Um—so—I heard that new comedy was coming out on Friday. " He watches her expression grow with every word he says. "I was wondering if you maybe would want to go see it with me?"

His eyes are drawn to her lips as she thoughtfully purses them together. The passing period warning bell rings, alerting everyone they have a minute left, causing him to grow increasingly anxious with every second that passes.

The girl in front of him then unexpectedly turns, beginning her descent down the nearly deserted hallway. He's left in utter disbelief and calls after her, "Wait… Allison!"

She stops, turning back around to face him and bites down on her lower lip as she says with a hidden smile, "My house at 7," then resumes her journey to her fourth period.

All he can do is laugh as a heavy weight is lifted off his shoulders, giving him the feeling that he has the ability to do anything. Like show up tardy to U.S. History, but he's okay with getting a 30-minute afterschool detention.

Because for once, Isaac Lahey was able to find the right words.