Chapter Text
Waiting room scenes utterly suck.
In recent years, Isaac has grown familiar with the waiting to be examined by a doctor for an X-Ray or cast when his father’s anger got too uncontrolled, but this is only the second time that he’s sat waiting out of concern for the welfare of someone else.
That other time had ended horrifically with an exhausted surgeon wearily approaching to give the news that, despite all their efforts, his mom and brother had died as a result of the accident that they had been in. Isaac had been sleeping in the back of the car when it wrecked and he had only a few bumps and bruises while his mother and brother had suffered fatal injuries in the front seats. He had never really had any problems understanding why his dad hated him after that; Isaac had always railed against whatever fates that had allowed him to survive that night.
He knows deep within himself that if Scott dies; if that vet finally opens that door with his head hanging in defeat, then Isaac will inflict great suffering on those connected to his loss. He’ll lash out at Derek and the pack before finding the Argent’s to show them how little they knew of why werewolves should be feared. He would give Mrs. Argent the bloody death she wanted, but not before he has made her witness the horrific deaths of her husband and daughter.
He entertains the most violent of fantasies as they all wait; wonders who controls the Kanima and how he can take that control from them to sic Jackson on the true killers in Beacon Hills. He would have the Kanima slay Gerard Argent and his entire following of ‘hunters.’
But not Mrs. Argent; Isaac would be sure he was the one to watch her life fade if she succeeded in killing Scott.
And for what had she done it? Because the kid was a damned fool to love her daughter?
The injustice of her actions raises his hackles and Isaac twitches visibly with the wish that he had not just walked away from her.
His mind is in the process of ripping her limb from limb as she cowered against the blood sprayed side of the warehouse when the knob finally turns to open the damned door to the operating studio in the clinic.
Isaac scrambles ungainly to his feet from where he had slid to sit on the floor and his breath catches in his chest as Dr. Deaton moves slowly into the hallway.
His posture is tired and weary and in Isaac’s mind’s eye he sees the man redressed in bloody scrubs hastily covered by a white overcoat as the doctor prepares to deliver the worst news of Isaac’s life.
“He needs rest,” his ears tune in to finally hear over the rush of blood in his veins. “You all do,” the veterinarian looks at each teenager in turn.
They ignore him en masse, pushing past the man to burst into the room; Stiles somehow managing to get in before him as Erica and Boyd follow closely behind Isaac. As one they stumble to a stop just inside the room at the sight of Scott lying still on a cold steel operating table while Derek sat leaning tiredly against the wall nearby.
“He’s right,” the Alpha sighs without opening his eyes at their entrance. “You all should get home.”
“As if,” Erica snorts reflexively; drawing a narrow-eyed glare from the man.
Her defiant posture falters under the stare, but Isaac is very proud to see that she regains her bravado and crosses the room to stand beside the Alpha.
“You’re hurt and those damned Argent’s put holes in Boyd and that bitch did this to Scott and we totally failed to stop Jackson from killing again,” her back is to him, but Isaac senses the salt of tears in her eyes. “This night is fucked, but we’re Pack and we’re all still here and we stay together right now.”
Boyd moves to put a careful and reassuring hand on the girl’s shoulder at her outburst while Stiles gapes at the scene and Isaac takes advantage of everyone’s distraction to move to Scott’s side.
He can see the faint motion of the boy’s chest to prove that Scott is breathing on his own, but the sounds of breath are far too weak for Isaac’s liking. Scott is too still and clearly unconscious; leading Isaac to question if the struggle for life is truly over.
“He’s sedated,” Derek says and Isaac’s eyes jump guiltily to find the Alpha staring at him. “Deaton knocked him out some so that he doesn’t struggle too much against the poison leaving his body.”
Leaving how?
As soon as Isaac thinks it, they see the answer in the sudden spasm that wracks Scott’s body and lifts his torso from the table.
“Turn him on his side.”
Derek barks the order while moving to do it himself before Isaac stops him by diving to shift Scott from his back just before the boy’s convulses to expel a dark stream vile liquid from his mouth. Erica takes one look at the vomit spreading on the floor; wrinkles her dainty nose and begins to step slowly from the room.
“I’ll be in the waiting room,” she says despite her avowal seconds ago that they would all stay together.
“Yeah, that…that’s unnecessary,” Stiles gags before covering his mouth and turning to follow her escape.
“How long will this last?” Isaac demands of the Alpha as the heaving stops and he allows Scott’s body to slump back on the table.
“Doc said he should be over the worst,” Derek meets his worried glance with something searching in his own eyes.
After a moment, the Alpha turns to Boyd who had move to stand at the foot of the bed in case his assistance is needed.
“So lie down,” Derek orders the boy with a pointed look at one of Boyd’s bandages. “You’re bleeding and won’t even begin to heal if you keep straining yourself.”
“You’re worried about him?” Derek asks as soon as they’re alone.
Isaac can only imagine at the depth of emotion he’s showing on his face in the moment and does nothing to refute the claim.
“You care about him?” the Alpha probes.
“I…,” Isaac wisely stops himself from uttering the first thing to spring to his tongue. “I don’t know,” he sighs and slumps against the side of the table with his eyes on Scott’s pale, sweating features.
“Do you think you can distract him from Allison?”
Isaac’s immediate response to that question from way out in the left field is to snort a laugh; both wondering at Derek for asking such a thing and at the very notion that he could pull any of Scott’s attention away from that girl even after her bitch mother has tried to kill him.
Allison’s dad had already made his threats against the boy and that damned girl’s scent still lingered on Scott from all the stolen moments the two teenagers stole against her family’s decree that the relationship end. While Isaac maybe kind of understands how she would have a hard time staying away from McCall; he still feels a righteous flash of fury for her selfishness is pursuing the illicit affair.
“He’s so stuck on her that Super Glue would kill for a patent on some of that shit,” he cracks wise, but the humor is hollow in his chest at the knowledge that McCall’s affections are likely to never be swayed.
“A lot has happened tonight,” Derek moves toward the door with a faintly cryptic look on his face. “When I got to him, when I pulled him out of that room; he said something interesting before he passed out completely.”
Isaac frowns at the man, waiting for more and inwardly cursing the Alpha when he steps out into the hallways without saying anything else.
“What did he say?” he moves toward the hallway to ask.
“Your name,” Derek pops his head in with a knowing smirk before he pulls back out and closes the door behind him.
The idea is like a sucker punch that causes Isaac to stumble to a stop halfway between Scott’s side and the now closed door.
Derek’s smirk makes him doubt the truth of such a notion; makes him think it more likely the Alpha manipulating Isaac’s emotions for some weird or twisted new objective. His senses hadn’t detected any tells in the man, though, to indicate a lie. In fact, Derek had been rather smug about having and delivering such a delicious tidbit of news.
Isaac looks back at Scott and remembers that moment when their eyes had met against that pillar.
“I mean you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
He replays the words in his head; changing the emphasis on different words while remembering all the while that dark, enigmatic look in the boy’s eyes. If Derek is telling the truth, then maybe Isaac hasn’t been a total fool for his visceral reaction to that moment. Maybe Scott had said it with the intent of alerting Isaac to the fact that there was or could be something between them.
Isaac moves to the chair against the wall that Derek had abandoned and he sits down hard as the idea boggles him.
Scott stirs at the sound of his body thudding down against the seat then the wall as he leant back and Isaac immediately leaps to his feet to move to the boy’s side. McCall’s body moves sluggishly; fitful against its sedation and Isaac’s hand moves of its own will to rest reassuringly on the boy’s shoulder.
“Easy,” he soothes as one would a wounded and struggling animal.
Miraculously, it works. The sudden tension fades from Scott’s body and he goes slack on the table; not in an unconscious sprawl as before, but more a restful pose.
His chest rises on a deeply drawn breath then falls as the air is expelled through his slightly parted lips. His nostrils flare on another inhalation and he holds it in his lungs before slowly releasing the breath with a faint furrowing to his brow. He turns his head slightly toward Isaac and gives a quick series of what can only be called sniffs before he goes still again.
Isaac stands there; unmoving in confusion at the odd gestures. His hand strokes over Scott’s shoulder before moving to the boy’s chest to ride the motion of his steadying breaths. After a moment he comes to the startling realization that he sincerely wants to molest the boy and he pulls away as if burnt.
Before he can bolt back to the chair to keep his vigil from a safe distance, Scott stirs again.
“Isaac?”
His name is nothing more than a hoarse croak from a throat that has suffered unspeakable torments this night, but the single utterance has the power to change Isaac Lahey’s miserable life.
Scott’s eyelids flutter, drawing attention to eyelashes that are long and full for a boy’s and Isaac feels an odd urge to feel their wispy brush against the pads of his fingers. While he’s grappling with that unfamiliar want, McCall’s eyes open and lock in on him with a liquid expression that punches Isaac had in the chest; right about where they say the human heart lies.
Those eyes are like a siren’s call to lure him back to put his hand again on Scott’s chest as he leans over the boy to hear what McCall might have to say next.
“Stay,” Scott breathes the word against Isaac’s ear as his fingers move to curl loosely around Isaac’s wrist.
His head turns slowly to stare at the other boy in disbelief; wondering with his usual self-deprecation exactly what the veterinarian had drugged the guy with. The doubts fade, though, when he sees the clear and obvious want In Scott’s dark eyes.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises, his lips speaking the words a mere inch above Scott’s mouth.
He curses his life and drops his forehead to press against McCall’s; thinking that their first kiss would have to wait. Knowing that a kiss would actually come between them is enough to keep Isaac from cursing the whole moment.
He straightens to study the narrow surface that Scott is on and after a moment he determines that there is no conceivable way that he can lie down there with the boy. Instead, he stretches out with his long leg to hook his foot around a leg of the chair and drag it closer to the gurney without dislodging his wrist from the light grip that Scott still has on it.
Isaac sits by the bed watching the other boy recover from his torture at the Argent’s hands and he lets go of his bloodlust against the woman; knowing McCall won’t want him harboring such darkness in his heart. He lets go of a lot of angry and hurt at the knowledge that Scott wants him there when he awakens from the sedation.
If McCall wanted Isaac to stay with him then that meant that Scott would have to stay with Isaac and that was an idea that Isaac could definitely live with.
No matter where Jackson is at the moment; no matter the rave organizer that had been slain, the night is no longer an absolute failure. Isaac has been entrusted with a duty that he can see himself fulfilling gladly; perhaps for the rest of his life if asked or allowed.
For once, he knows that there is something that he can do without fucking it all up; just stay.
~The End~