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"I'm worried about Isaac," Scott whispers into the phone. Isaac is at the store with Melissa, but Scott still feels like secrecy is in order.
"Is he homicidal again?" Stiles asks around loud crunches of whatever it is he's eating, despite the fact that Scott has told him how gross that is with superhearing.
"He's..." There's no nice way of putting it. "He hasn't jacked off once since he got here."
"And Isaac's masturbatory habits are our problem how?" Stiles doesn't sound particularly concerned.
"It's been two weeks!" Scott's voice raises a little too much. He quiets down again for the next part. "I'm supposed to be helping him keep control! What if he snaps?"
"Have you asked him about it?" Stiles would suggest that. Scott glares at the phone. "Or, you know. Maybe he's very quiet? Or doing it when no one's around, or... I don't know. School. Maybe he's super into the locker room vibe."
"Old socks and sweaty balls?" Scott wrinkles his nose up.
"You just made me super glad I don't have werewolf senses, just so you know." Stiles was totally laughing at him. "Grateful, even."
"Fuck you," Scott says, grinning, because he can't hit him. "But what do I do?"
"Well," Stiles says, "it's kind of in Isaac's hands. Well, It should be, anyway."
"But what if he feels awkward?"
"Pretty sure you asking him about it will only make him feel more awkward about it." Stiles has a point. "Just... I don't know, dude. Give him some alone time."
Scott sighs and hangs up the phone.
*
When Isaac comes home, Scott hovers awkwardly at the door of his bedroom. Isaac keeps glancing up at him, raising an eyebrow, then shrugging and going back to his book.
Finally, Scott says, "Do you want to be alone?"
"It'd be a little less weird," Isaac says. "Are you okay?"
"Fine!" Scott says loudly. "Just fine! Um. I'll just... Go. Away. So you have some privacy. Okay?"
"Sure," Isaac says, going back to his book.
Scott goes downstairs and helps his mom make dinner, and only focuses his hearing to try to hear what's going on a few times.
Isaac turns on some music, but he never hears anything... intimate.
*
"Are you sure?" Stiles suggests the next day at lunch. "I mean. Did you make it clear that you were giving him privacy for alone time? Because you could also, you know. Tell him what you're worried about."
"I'm not going to tell him to play with himself," Scott hisses. "That is an abuse of power. Or creepy. Something."
"Well, you're the one worried about how blue his balls might be," Stiles shrugs. "I mean, did Derek ever pry into that?"
Scott blinks a few times. He always knew Stiles would have a brilliant idea.
"Oh, no. No. Scott, you can't... you can't ask Derek that." Stiles' voice sounds vaguely panicked for the first time.
"Of course I can't," Scott says. "That's why you're going to."
Stiles thumps his head on the table. "There is no fucking way I'm doing that."
"It's for the good of the pack!" Scott says, patting Stiles on the back.
"No. So much no. A world of no," Stiles groans. "I'm not asking Derek about werewolf masturbation just so that you can be a good alpha-in-training."
“I’ll buy you gas,” Scott promises, “for a week.”
“Yeah, okay, I can do that,” Stiles says, lifting his head up. “But only if you actually ask Isaac about it first.”
*
The thing is, he’s not actually alone with Isaac until that night, when they’re getting ready for bed.
Isaac has been sleeping on an air mattress on the floor of Scott’s room since his second night in the McCall house, after discovering on the first night that they are both cover-hogs and spent most of the night battling over who got the lion’s share of the blankets.
Scott waits til they’ve both climbed under the covers, and before he clicks off the lamp, says, “So… I’m kind of worried about you.”
“I’m fine,” Isaac says in the obstinate way he has, like being not fine is a crime.
“I know,” Scott says. He’s rehearsed the words in his head half the day, but they get stuck in his throat. “But, um. Just so you know, you can make yourself completely at home here.”
“Thanks.” Isaac gives him a brief smile.
“Completely at home,” Scott says. “Like, anything you need to do…”
“Okay,” Isaac says, looking slightly more confused.
“Anything.” Scott gives him a significant look.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Isaac says. He lays down, pulling his blanket up to his chin.
Scott turns off the light.
*
“So you really addressed the situation with him,” Stiles says, staring up at Derek’s building like it’s the gates to hell.
“All he said was that he was fine,” Scott replies.
“And we can’t just believe him? I’m pretty sure he’s knows what’s going on in his pants better than we do.” Stiles might have a point, but Scott’s gut tells him that Isaac definitely is starting to act like a man on the edge, and if there’s one thing Isaac doesn’t need, it’s another reason to act murderous.
“Just go ask,” Scott tells him.
Stiles asks about more four times if he’s sure they need Derek’s opinion, then heaves a dramatic sigh, gives him one last pleading look, then marches off into Derek’s building.
Scott waits in the car.
Scott drums his fingers on the dash, waiting. Stiles returns in about ten minutes, and sits down in the passenger seat.
“Well?” Scott asks.
“Give me a minute,” Stiles says. “I have to let the mortification of this moment move a little further into the past before I can talk about it.”
Scott is ninety percent sure that Stiles doesn’t even have the embarrassment gene. He rolls his eyes. “What did he say?”
“Well,” Stiles says, “I explained the situation. First, he stared at me like I had just spontaneously spouted another head that only spoke in pig latin.”
That, Scott could buy. “And then?”
“He said, ‘go home,’ all gruff-like. You know how he does.” Stiles puts the keys in the ignition. “And then he said, ‘Do I look like someone who pries into teenagers’ sex lives?’”
Scott has a sinking feeling. “You didn’t.”
“You know I can’t lie under pressure, Scott, it’s not in my nature!” Stiles says, which is a total lie in and of itself, but Scott lets it pass. “I said yes, and then! Then! As if calling him a sex pervert wasn’t bad enough, I said, ‘Well, you were a teenager in the not so recent past! Did you have any issues on that front?’”
Scott bites the inside of his cheek. “What did Derek say to that?”
“Just pointed to the door and glowered.” Stiles bangs his head against the steering wheel. “And then you know how I can’t control my mouth, not when I start talking about something. You know this about me, Scottie, and you still sent me in there.”
“It got worse?” Scott isn’t sure how.
“After I asked Derek about his teenage sex life, I told him that it wasn’t like he was rolling in the ladies nowadays, which is a mystery when he looks like the human version of a Ferrari, is it still an issue.”
Scott can be a good friend. He really can. “Did he answer?”
Stiles is clearly imagining Scott’s gruesome murder as he grits out, “No, he did not. I left. I can never speak to Derek Hale again.”
“Well, thanks anyway, buddy,” Scott says, patting Stiles’ arm.
*
Scott is a good best friend, so he repays Stiles with milkshakes. They’re in the booth, sipping away, when Stiles suddenly sighs and interrupts Scott’s speech on ways to help Isaac out.
“Have you considered that maybe your interest in Isaac’s sexual well-being is more personal than altruistic?” Stiles raises both eyebrows at Scott.
“What?” Scott flounders. “That’s not… No. It’s completely for his werewolf control. My only reason.”
“Okay,” Stiles says, patting Scott’s hand. “Then have you considered leading by example?”
*
Scott told Stiles it was a terrible plan, really, nothing good would come of it.
But if maybe he’s a little louder than usual in the shower the next morning, well. No sense letting a good plan go to waste. It’s all for Isaac’s benefit, after all. He bites his lip, bracing one hand against the shower wall. He lets a low moan escape, loud enough that Isaac definitely would hear. Isaac, who was lying on his air mattress, right there in his bedroom. Awake, because he’d given Scott a sleepy smile.
Without intentionally thinking about it, he lets out another moan, quickens his pace. He was doing this for Isaac, because Isaac… Isaac… “Isaac…”
Fuck. Was that out loud? He hastily lets go of his dick.
He holds his breath, trying to hear what Isaac is doing. Packing his bags, probably.
Nothing. His room is quiet, except for the deliberately measured breaths Isaac is taking, which… totally are a ruse, because Isaac’s heart is pounding. He totally heard. There is no doubt. He heard Scott saying his name.
Scott saying his name because Scott was definitely thinking about him-thinking about him. Scott leans against the sink, staring at the closed bathroom door. He wasn’t worried about Isaac’s self control. Isaac hasn’t lost his shit recently, there’s no reason to think that he didn’t already have his sex drive figured out.
Scott towels off his hair and tries to push aside the thoughts, but, nope. He was definitely getting off thinking about Isaac’s smile, and that’s not idle fantasy territory.
Stiles was totally right. Scott was doing this for totally selfish reasons. Stupid, selfish, crush-related reasons.
When he comes out of the bathroom, Isaac is still on his air mattress, curled up to the side. His hair is all tousled and he looks as stupidly beautiful as always, and Scott hates everything because Isaac just heard his sex noises and probably thinks he’s a creep.
“Nice shower?” Isaac studiously asks the wall.
“Yeah,” Scott says. “It’s all yours.”
He grabs his stuff and flees the room.
*
“You were right,” Scott hisses when Stiles steps out his front door.
“Jesus!” Stiles nearly jumps out of his skin, and flails his arms a lot as he regains balance. “Scottie, you’re a creature of the night. Don’t sneak up on us defenseless humans. What was I right about? Was it the peanut butter and potato chip sandwich? Because I told you…”
“About Isaac,” Scott says miserably. “I wanted him to have orgasms because I like him, not because I was worried about his emotional well-being.”
“Yeah, we know,” Stiles says.
“We?” Scott’s voice cracked a little.
“You know,” Stiles says. “Me, Allison, Lydia. Derek. Peter mentioned something about it when I saw him at the gas station. Boyd didn’t say anything, but he always knows what’s up. And your mom told my dad that she thought it was cute that you thought you were hiding your crush.”
“My mom?” Scott wants to curl up and die.
“Oh, and Coach. He thinks you’d be cuter with Danny, though.” Stiles looks thoughtful. “I disagree. Danny’s might be classically handsome, but Isaac’s ethereal beauty kind of offsets your asymmetrical face.”
“But I only just realized!” Scott lets himself whine just a little, because it turns out the entire town knows him better than he does.
“Has Operation: Orgasm worked yet?” Stiles asks.
“No,” Scott says. “I took your stupid advice and then I realized why I cared so much and then I pretty much ran away before I had to talk to Isaac.”
“Well that’s not big brave werewolf behavior,” Stiles chides.
“But he heard me!” Scott says, flushing as he realizes that he can never look Isaac in the eye again.
“I’m sure he’s heard you before,” Stiles points out evenly.
“Not when I said his name at the end, he hasn’t,” Scott chokes out.
Stiles looks him dead in the eye, and then bursts into loud, wild laughter.
“it’s not funny.” Stiles keeps laughing. “Dude!” Stiles actually doubles over. “You are the worst best friend in the history of best friends.”
“Consider this repayment for when you made me go ask Derek about werewolf masturbation,” Stiles manages to say between gasps of belly-laughs. “Embarrassment karma.”
“I can never go home again,” Scott says blankly. “Can I move in here?”
“I don’t know, will you start thinking about me when you choke the chicken?” Stiles looks like the universe gave him a gift.
“I hate you.” Scott says, but then he feels bad. “Not really.”
Stiles claps him on the shoulder. “I love you too. Especially today.”
*
He manages to avoid Isaac all day at school.
He suspects that it helps that Isaac is likely trying to avoid him, too.
*
Allison is leaning against his dirt bike when he gets there after school.
“Erm,” Scott says, because his brain always turns to mush when Allison’s around. She’s unfairly pretty, just like Isaac.
“So Stiles tells me you’ve finally realized you’ve got an Isaac-shaped crush,” she says, grinning at him.
“Well,” Scott says, because he’s pretty sure you aren’t supposed to discuss your crushes with people you’re in love with.
“Who doesn’t, right?” she continues.
“Good point,” Scott manages, spending a moment imagining what it would look like, if Allison and Isaac made out. Probably baby birds would start singing and the lights would shine down from the heavens on them. “So you don’t… mind?”
“We’re not dating,” Allison reminds him gently. Then she grins the mischievous grin he loves the most and says, “But, you know, if you happened to send me a picture of the two of you… I wouldn’t mind.”
*
When he gets home from the vet’s office, Isaac is helping his mom make dinner.
“I’ve got a night shift,” Melissa explains, pulling garlic bread out of the oven. “So try not to burn the house down. Or invite any strange werewolves inside. You know, it’s a shame that you guys aren’t like vampires. All monsters should be invitation-only.”
Scott rolls his eyes, while Isaac nods thoughtfully.
Dinner isn’t awkward, mostly because Isaac seems entirely too charmed by Melissa and hangs onto her every word, but when she dashes upstairs to change into her scrubs before her shift, awkwardness descends. Big time.
Scott actually leaps up to wash the dishes, because two minutes of staring at the table, then his gaze drifting up to Isaac, then staring quickly at the table again was too many.
“So,” Isaac says. “This morning.”
“This morning,” Scott agrees, because this morning was something that happened.
“I, um,” Isaac picks at the sleeve of his sweater. “I couldn’t help overhearing. You.”
“I don’t normally…” Scott begins, then stops himself quickly. “I mean. I normally, you know I do, but usually not with the… name-calling.”
His cheeks feel like they’re flaming, but, in for a penny.
“About that,” Isaac says. “Does that have anything to do with how weird you’ve been lately? Because if you want me to leave, I can.”
“No!” Scott says quickly. “What? No! Why would I want you to leave? You’re awesome. I was just worried. About, you know.”
“No, I don’t know.” Isaac looks confused.
“I was worried that you aren’t getting off enough, and that might, you know. Affect your control.” Scott blurts out.
“I’m going to pretend like I didn’t hear that,” Melissa’s voice floats in from the hall. Scott wants to die. “Be good while I’m gone, okay?”
“Of course, Mrs. McCall! Have a good night!” Isaac calls back. There’s a slightly wild look in his eyes. He waits until the door slams, and then says, “You worried about me?”
“Of course! You matter to me, dude.” Scott appreciates that Isaac’s first reaction isn’t horror.
“And you’ve been listening to me,” Isaac says. He stands up, moves closer to Scott. His eyes are hypnotizing, but Scott can’t quite read them. Is he happy? Sad? Turned on? Scott can’t tell.
“It just kind of happened,” Scott tries to explain. How do you tell someone that both they and their dick matter to you? He should have asked Danny for advice. Danny’s the smoothest dude he knows; he could have told Scott how to crawl out of this hole.
Isaac raises an eyebrow.
“I just want you and your dick to be happy!” Scott blurts.
“Oh.” Isaac says, but it’s a good kind of oh, like seeing fireworks unexpectedly. “You do, you know. Make me and my dick happy.”
Now it’s Scott’s turn to say, “Oh.”
They stare at each other for a long moment. Scott’s heart is pounding like he’s running at top wolf-speed, and he nervously licks his lips.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” Isaac says, eyes tracking the path of Scott’s tongue.
“Good plan,” Scott says as Isaac hunches into a kiss, curling his hand around Scott’s jaw.
It’s needy and warm and in general just really fucking awesome. Scott’s really into this whole kissing Isaac thing. He likes tilting his head up into it, he likes sucking on Isaac’s tongue and feeling Isaac’s hand tighten on his hip in response, and he likes grabbing Isaac’s butt as the kiss ends, just to punctuate how awesome the experience is.
He keeps Isaac pulled in close, resting his forehead on Isaac’s shoulder as he slowly regains his breath. Isaac’s is still ragged, but his hand slips underneath the hem of Scott’s t-shirt and he rubs slow patterns on Scott’s hip with his thumb.
After a while, when the counter digging into his back has started to get uncomfortable , almost as uncomfortable as the way his dick is pressed against the front of his jeans, Scott breaks away from Isaac. “Do you want to go upstairs?”
“Mmmm,” Isaac says into Scott’s neck.
Scott doesn’t even remember going up the stairs, just remembers the way the edge of the bed felt behind his knees the split-second before he and Isaac tumble into it.
He fumbles a bit with Isaac’s pants, and feels Isaac’s stomach muscles quiver as his knuckles brush against them. He grins up at Isaac, who rolls his shoulders as he leans over Scott, then pushes against him as he kisses him, dirty and wet. Scott’s hand is trapped between their bodies. When the kiss breaks, he pushes Isaac over onto his side and shoves his hand unceremoniously into his pants.
Isaac shudders as Scott wraps his hand around his dick. He’s as hard as Scott is himself, and somehow seems to be burning even hotter. Scott hesitates for a second, but Isaac grabs his wrist and mutters, “Let go and I end you.”
Scott’s never grinned so hard at one of Isaac’s death threats before. He rubs his thumb over the head of Isaac’s dick, smearing precome around, and then lets go deliberately, fighting the urge to laugh when Isaac lets out a low, needy whine.
“Gotta get these out of the way,” Scott explains, working at Isaac’s pants. Isaac lifts his hips obligingly, and even sheds his sweater, leaving his long lean limbs bare.
After getting a quick squirt of the lotion he keeps beside his bed, he wraps his hand around Isaac again, managing to figure out a good wrist angle. He’s torn between watching his own hand slowly pumping up and down on Isaac’s dick and watching Isaac, with his hair falling into his heavy-lidded eyes and his teeth grazing into his swollen bottom lip. He settles for switching back and forth, like he’s watching the world’s hottest tennis match.
He keeps jacking Isaac off, fast and a little rough, until Isaac bites hard into his lip, clearly trying to be quiet through his orgasm even as a low, uneven moan escapes.
“Now I know what you sound like,” he can’t help teasing, and Isaac grins up at him with flushed cheeks and reddened lips, and says, “Turnabout is fair play and all.”
After Isaac wraps his hand around Scott’s dick and brings him off languidly, Scott flops bonelessly next to him. “Why haven’t you been taking care of yourself?”
Isaac stares at the ceiling, then gives Scott an amused smile. “I was afraid of making the same kind of slip you did this morning.”
“The same kind.. Oh. Oh,” Scott says, trying to imagine what he would have done if he’d heard Isaac groaning out his name in the shower. Hopefully not run in to join him. “Well, glad I could save you that embarrassment.”
“Thank you,” Isaac stretches, grins over at Scott. “For everything…”
Scott cuts him off with a kiss.
Later, when they’re both fucked-out and tangled together for the night, Scott reaches over for his phone. First he snaps a picture, and then he texts Stiles. fixed isaac’s problem for him.
He doesn’t have to read the response to know that it says, tmi, dude, for real.