You’re the Imbalance of My Equation
Title: You’re the Imbalance of My Equation
Author: burntotears
Pairing: Isaac/Stiles
Rating: R
Word Count: 4,363
Spoilers: Season 2
Disclaimer: © MTV
A/N Prompt from Anon Stisaac prompt: Science classroom, Detention aka end of the school day, Harris gives Stiles detention again and Isaac misbehaves on purpose so he gets detention too, blackboard, blue
Stiles quirked an eyebrow while he watched Mr. Harris balance the equation on the blackboard. Their teacher had his back turned away from them as he worked so he didn’t know that Stiles had his hand raised until he finished and his face instantly turned accusing, like Stiles was going to cause trouble rather than ask a question or give input that might have actual merit to the lesson. Stiles couldn’t be surprised by this response though.
He still had no idea what he did to make Mr. Harris hate him so damned much, but today he just wanted to get through the lesson and believe it or not, he enjoyed balancing chemical equations - there was something almost melodic about the process that Stiles just couldn’t seem to bring himself to groan about like the rest of the class. Mr. Harris had continually given him an ‘F’ on almost all of his equations even though they were all correct because he said that Stiles was being ‘flashy’ about his solutions.
“Uh, Mr. Harris, wouldn’t it be easier if you just-” Stiles began to point out in his most innocent voice possible, but he should have known better than to even try.
“I think it would be easier if you just stayed for detention, Mr. Stilinski, since you obviously know more about Chemistry than I do. You can make my lesson plans for me,” Mr. Harris snarked and Stiles just sighed because honestly, he was too used to this to really be phased at this point. He looked apologetically over at Scott and Isaac whom he was supposed to be playing video games with after school that afternoon. Apparently they would be forging on through the arid lands of Pandora without him. He gave them a shrug and mouthed, ‘what are you gonna do?’ and jerked his head toward Mr. Harris and then pointed to his own chest, indicating that their teacher obviously had a vendetta against him that would never be sated.
Isaac was staring at Stiles intently with his baby blues and eventually an evil smirk grew across his illustrious cheekbones. Not that Stiles thought he had illustrious cheekbones or anything. It was common knowledge that Isaac was a good looking guy, obviously, and Stiles was secure enough in his masculinity to appreciate another guy’s beauty - no, not beauty! attractiveness, dammit! - when he saw it. Isaac was attractive, it was just a fact, okay?
Isaac was apparently up to no good though and when Mr. Harris turned his back to balance another equation, he pilfered an eraser from an unsuspecting neighbor who was so busy taking notes she didn’t notice it had been misappropriated until it was soaring across the room and smacking their chemistry teacher in the back of the head with an audible thump. He had definitely put some werewolf strength behind that throw, because their teacher looked livid when he swung around to identify the culprit and Isaac just busted out laughing - large and bright and crinkling at the corners of his eyes with his head thrown back for exaggerated emphasis. Stiles really didn’t understand what he was attempting to do, besides the very obvious wish for getting himself killed. Maybe Mr. Harris hadn’t been the master of the kanima, but that did not make Stiles any less convinced that Mr. Harris was a sadistic maniac.
“Mr. Lahey, it seems you have decided to stay for detention with Mr. Stilinski. How droll that you would choose to lower yourself to the intellectual level of a mere performance monkey,” he stated while looking right at Stiles. Seriously?
“I’ll try to contain myself from flinging poo,” Isaac replied and a few people laughed. Mr. Harris deemed that unworthy of a response apparently, because he went and sat at his desk and told them to work on the rest of the equations on their own. Stiles snuck a glance at Isaac who looked smug and offered him a genuine smile that definitely reached his eyes. Stiles smiled back in response, rolling his eyes and returning to his doomed-to-fail equations.
-----
“Why’d you do that?” Stiles asked under his breath when Mr. Harris was shuffling through some papers at his desk. He kept his head facing the paper of equations in front of him but his eyes were gazing to his right where Isaac sat next to him in detention that afternoon. It didn’t really matter how softly Stiles spoke, of course, since Isaac would be able to hear him without any trouble thanks to his werewolf sensibilities.
Isaac’s head tilted slightly in Stiles’ direction, but otherwise he didn’t make any indication that he’d heard what was said. It was possible that he wasn’t certain what Stiles was referring to, but that was doubtful - he just wasn’t going to answer the question. Isaac had been weird around Stiles lately and with his inability to read people well, Stiles wasn’t entirely positive what was going on underneath that curly mop of hair. He, Scott, and Stiles had become something that could possibly resemble friends ever since Gerard’s disappearance. However, when you were running in separate packs and dealing with brand new werewolves that threatened to expose your existence on a consistent daily basis it was a struggle to define normal, everyday things like friendship. It was also an endeavor for Stiles to even begin attempting to decipher some of the looks and actions that Isaac threw at him these days. Hence, Isaac sitting next to him in detention on purpose like it was some kind of solidation of their endless comradery became just another thing for Stiles to file under ‘what the hell?’
He sighed when he continued to receive no answer and pulled out a blank sheet of notebook paper. On the top line he wrote:
dude, seriously - WTF?
He passed it over to Isaac when he knew Mr. Harris wasn’t looking and tried to focus on his next equation, but the letters and subscripts kept swimming in front of his face. It didn’t take long before Isaac shoved the sheet of paper back over Stiles’ equation sheet. Stiles examined his messy scrawl for a moment before he began to read the actual words that were written there:
Note passing- really? Are we in fifth grade now?
Do you like me? Check Yes □ or No □
Stiles considered it for a moment. He logically knew that Isaac had been joking when he wrote it and that he shouldn’t be considering anything at all, yet for some reason he was still sitting there contemplating if maybe he did have something of a torch for Isaac. Things had been weird between them and now that he had this in writing in front of him, he began to wonder if maybe the awkwardness was more than it seemed for both of them. So he did the bravest thing he could think of - even if it was perceived as a joke, he still would consider it brave regardless - and passed the paper back to the werewolf.
Do you like me? Check Yes ☑ or No □
Stiles was certain he heard rather than saw in his periphery Isaac’s head snap up to look at him, but Stiles was still glancing at his homework. Isaac was determined to stare him down though (apparently when he wanted answers he didn’t give up either) so finally Stiles looked over and met his gaze. His blue eyes looked darker than they normally did - not that Stiles was so familiar with their normal color that he would notice such a subtle change. Isaac began to study Stiles’ face, eyes darting back and forth incessantly and Stiles felt his face grow hotter as those eyes continued to graze over the planes of his face like he was some kind of art piece that needed figuring out.
“What are you doing?” Isaac asked quietly after what felt like decades of scrutiny, making sure that Mr. Harris couldn’t hear him.
Stiles shrugged. “You asked; I answered.”
Isaac didn’t say anything else and Stiles wasn’t certain what that was supposed to mean. They both went back to their equations, but there was some serious heat radiating off the both of them and Stiles swore he could smell the discomfort coming from Isaac as he worked on his homework.
The phone on Mr. Harris’ desk rang about ten minutes later and both of the teenagers started at the sound, apparently wound tighter than should be humanly (or supernaturally) possible. Their teacher paid them no mind, of course, and answered the phone with a few ‘Uh huh’s’ and ‘Alright’s’ before hanging up and looking at the two students in his room. “I have to go down to the office and assist our new principal with a small matter. Since I don’t delude myself by thinking that either of you know how to remain in your seats and behave while I’m not here, you can clean out test tubes and beakers to keep yourselves occupied. If you’re not finished when I return, then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon as well.” He stood up and left without saying anything more.
Stiles didn’t look up from his equation sheet. He gripped his pencil in his fingers tightly, now even more acutely aware of Isaac still sitting next to him. The last thing he had expected (or wanted, really) was to be left alone with Isaac. At least with Mr. Harris in the room they wouldn’t have the chance to talk, but now - now he didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to do or say. He stopped assaulting his pencil finally and pushed away from the lab table, forcing himself to take a deep breath. They would need to start cleaning now if they didn’t want to spend even more awkward time alone together like this tomorrow, so he set himself to the task of dealing with the uncomfortableness at hand.
“Well uh, you want to dry while I wash?” he asked and ran a hand over his shaved head, looking down at Isaac’s shoes rather than anywhere near his face. Feet were safe and didn’t convey any emotion that would further confuse Stiles about what the hell had just happened.
Isaac stood and stalked away from Stiles, who finally chanced a glance up at the werewolf now that his back was turned and no eye contact was possible. Isaac’s shoulders were taut and his back was stiff and he looked far too uncomfortable for the task of washing lab equipment, but then again, so was Stiles so no big surprise there.
He followed the other teen to the back room where Mr. Harris took all the dirty glassware and dug out some rubber gloves for them to put on. He already knew where everything was because he had done this countless times before, thanks to Mr. Harris’ ever-expounding ideas of what he could get Stiles to do while he kept him after school. He handed a pair of yellow gloves to Isaac without actually looking at him and jumped a little when the other boy snatched them from his proffered hand. Well this was going to be just lovely.
Isaac began running the water to wash the glassware and scrounged up the soap. Stiles pulled out the container that they always used to sterilize the glassware when they were done washing it out and tossed in a Milton tablet. When the sink was filled on Isaac’s side, Stiles placed the container under the spray of the water and watched it fill, trying not to take notice of how Isaac seemed to be radiating annoyance like it was going out of style. Stiles didn’t know how things had gone from discomfort to anger, but however it was happening, he didn’t like it.
“So, uh-” Stiles began, not even certain what he was going to say, but honestly, he just wanted to break the silence. It was beginning to stifle him. Isaac reached over and abruptly shut off the water, caging the room in an even heavier silence than before. The movement had Stiles staggering to a halt, grasping for words he hadn’t had in the first place. He gave up and moved the sterilization container from the sink and donned his gloves just as Isaac had.
Isaac wielded the test tube brush and began dipping a tube in the water; he ran the test tube brush inside of the tube with careful precision, then handed it over to Stiles without so much as a glance. “Hey, I said that I would wash them,” Stiles protested. Isaac’s response was to growl at him while shaking the tube in his hand to get Stiles to take it already. Stiles snatched the tube and breathed out in annoyance, “Seriously, dude? Okay, what is your problem?”
Isaac had already picked up another test tube and was brushing it out, but at Stiles’ words he let the tube plop into the water below, splashing them both with warm water and soap. In a low, growling voice he said, “It’s not a joke,” and that was it. He fished out the tube from the bottom of the sink and finished scrubbing it, handing it over to Stiles to rinse and put in the sterilizing solution.
Stiles raised an eyebrow, his face twisted in confusion. “What’s not a joke? Why are you suddenly so pissed at me?” Maybe he should know what was going on, but his brain was too full at that point to even begin to try and process where Isaac might be coming from.
Isaac handed him another test tube and grunted, setting the test tube brush down and bracing his hands against the counter like his feet wouldn’t be able to support him anymore if he didn’t. Stiles rinsed the tube in his hands and put it in the sterilizing solution, then finally turned to look at Isaac. He wasn’t looking toward Stiles, just staring down at his gloved hands like they held the answers to all the unspoken questions between them. If they did, Stiles wanted in on that - like right now. “I wasn’t joking when I asked you that,” Isaac said quietly and his voice was wavering slightly.
Stiles opened his mouth to ask what the hell he was talking about once again, but then he remembered the note that they had passed and how the past twenty or so minutes had become awkward after that. Oh right. “Yeah, and I wasn’t joking when I answered,” Stiles replied, his head spinning. Isaac really hadn’t meant it as a joke?
The werewolf’s head shot up and he finally looked at Stiles. His eyes were narrowed and dark. “I’m being serious, Stiles.”
Stiles threw his hands in the air, huffing in annoyance and frustration. “What the hell makes you think that I’m not?”
Isaac pushed away from the counter and squared his shoulders, pulling himself to his full height in front of Stiles. “I know you’re not,” he deadpanned, leaving no room for argument. Unfortunately for him, Stiles didn’t take social cues very well.
“Fuck, Isaac, I don’t know what you want from me. It doesn’t seem to matter what I tell you because you don’t believe me, so I just...” he trailed off, staring at Isaac with wild ideas flying through his brain. He could latch onto one of them, but the chances that it wouldn’t backfire horribly were fairly slim. Looking at the current situation, however, he didn’t think that it could get much worse than trying to argue his case to someone who was determined not to believe him.
So Stiles steeled his nerves and did the stupidest thing on his list of dumb ideas - he pushed against Isaac’s chest until his back hit the wall behind him and then pressed his lips firmly along the lines of Isaac’s. It was nothing more than a peck (Stiles was only so brave, okay?), but it should have gotten the message across rather plainly. Stiles pulled back from Isaac’s face, his hand still pressed against the werewolf’s chest to hold him in place - not that he’d actually be capable of doing so if Isaac wanted to move.
Isaac didn’t want to move. Or maybe Isaac was incapable of moving because he was in complete and utter shock. Stiles was not at all able to decipher the look that was on the other teen’s face. He was staring at Stiles with a gaping mouth, his eyes a deep shade of blue and his pupils wide; he almost looked afraid. Stiles waited for him to say something - anything, but no, Isaac just kept gaping at him and looking kind of wounded. Even more vexed than before, Stiles huffed and said, “Well? Are you starting to get the picture now?”
Isaac looked down at Stiles’ hand on his chest and Stiles wondered if maybe the whole ‘pushing him against the wall to kiss him’ cliche had been overdoing it. He took his hand away and rubbed it over his head uncomfortably - then remembered he still had his gloves on and was now dripping water down his face. He looked at Isaac’s chest which had a wet patch from where his hand had been pressed and groaned; he hadn’t even remembered that his gloves were on - fantastic. He started tugging them off just as Isaac made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded like a cross between a squeak and a growl, if that was even possible. He closed his mouth finally and Stiles’ eyes were drawn to the movement, though once they were there they lingered, because Stiles had kissed those lips once and he wouldn’t mind doing it again. If only Isaac had the damned courtesy of telling him what the hell was going on in that head half the time.
“I uh - I guess I shouldn’t have done that,” Stiles said finally when it was apparent that Isaac wasn’t going to say anything and maybe Stiles had made a mistake by being so forward. It wouldn’t be the first time. “I’m sorry,” he added, backing away some more from Isaac and sighing. He tossed his gloves on the counter and immediately regretted it because they at least gave him something to fiddle with during this entirely too uncomfortable confrontation. He began to worry at the hem of his t-shirt instead.
Isaac shook his head and it was like he had finally come to from some daze he’d been inside of. Knowing as much as he did about Isaac, Stiles wouldn’t be surprised if he’d been stuck inside of his own head - he seemed to do that a lot. Isaac pulled the gloves from his hands and tossed them off where Stiles had set his own and then he was advancing toward Stiles in two easy strides, pushing into Stiles’ space until he had no choice but to back up into the counter. Isaac boxed him in by placing a hand on the counter on either side of Stiles’ body. He stared him down with those slightly darker blue eyes - that Stiles didn’t notice the color change of because he wasn’t that obsessed with Isaac’s eyes, thank you - and said, “Stiles.”
Apparently that was all he had to say on the matter. Isaac leaned in and Stiles thought he was going to kiss him, but instead he shoved his nose into the crook of Stiles’ neck and breathed in deeply. Stiles stiffened, uncertain as to what the hell Isaac was even doing or why. Isaac rubbed his nose up the side of Stiles’ neck toward his jaw and kept breathing him in over and over again every time he moved his nose to a new spot. “Umm...” Stiles squeaked and Isaac brought his nose up to Stiles’ lips and sniffed them. A grunt sounded in the back of his throat and Stiles was startled by a tongue suddenly being swiped across his lips - he hadn’t been expecting that. Isaac ran his tongue over Stiles’ lips two or three times in slow succession before he tongued Stiles’ upper lip into his mouth and began sucking gingerly on it.
Stiles felt his legs give out beneath him and he had to lean into the counter to keep himself upright. Isaac seemed to notice because he stepped forward and pressed himself flush against Stiles, shoving a leg between Stiles’ in the process. Isaac ran his tongue across Stiles’ upper lip that was wedged between his lips and bit down on it softly. Stiles whimpered and scrabbled for Isaac’s chest, clinging to his henley in urgency. This was entirely too intense and overwhelming and Stiles didn’t know up from down and all he really wanted was to kiss Isaac but he didn’t want him to stop - doing - that. His brain was literally turning to mush inside of his head.
“Isaac,” Stiles breathed out lowly against Isaac’s chin and that was apparently enough. Isaac growled and Stiles opened his eyes for a moment to see a flash of golden irises before Isaac was pushing him back hard into the counter and kissing his mouth in earnest now. Stiles laced his fingers through those curls he had been dying to touch and tugged a little, all too pleased with the groan that sounded inside of Isaac’s mouth that he swallowed into his own. The werewolf wrapped his arms around Stiles’ waist and pulled him impossibly closer to himself, working his mouth over Stiles’ in something akin to desperation.
Isaac pressed his back further into the counter and Stiles thought that he might break him in half against the edge of it, yet he couldn’t bring himself to really care because Isaac Lahey had his hands on his ass and was making out with him in detention, for fuck’s sake - and okay, Stiles understood why he had gotten himself detention on purpose now. Or at least he hoped that he did, because he’d be damned if he didn’t get to do this again.
Stiles moaned into Isaac’s mouth as the werewolf let his tongue explore the insides of Stiles’ mouth like it was something to be put to memory. He couldn’t do much but hold onto Isaac by his shirt and his hair, which he couldn’t help tugging at, because it was just so damned soft and curly and it kept making Isaac groan and crush his lips harder against Stiles’ mouth. Stiles tried to fight against him, pushing his tongue forward to find purchase into Isaac’s mouth, but the werewolf batted it away like it was nothing and continued his expedition toward Stiles’ tonsils - the bastard. Enough was enough, Stiles wanted a turn, dammit; he grabbed a good fistful of Isaac’s curls and tugged hard, pulling the werewolf off balance and out of his mouth. After a quick breath and well-earned smirk, Stiles dove in and captured Isaac’s bottom lip in his teeth, worrying over it with nibbling bites and then soothing his tongue across after. Isaac seemed to be melting into him, losing his own footing as Stiles took his own sweet time and had to brace a hand on the counter to keep himself upright. Well, served him right.
Stiles knew logically that they needed to cool things off because they were: a) at school, b) in detention, and c) trekking into new territory that had yet to be blazed for the two of them - but he was finding it increasingly difficult to remember his list the more that Isaac shoved his thigh in between Stiles’ legs and rubbed it against his hardening dick. That was seriously unfair. Stiles pulled back and brandished his most intense glare imaginable, which looked more like a smoldering ‘please fuck me’ face thanks to his current state of mind. “You - are - an asshole,” he huffed out breathlessly.
Isaac, true to form, pulled out the best assface smirk he had and used his well placed hand to squeeze Stiles’ ass, eyes twinkling as Stiles groaned. He leaned in and went for Stiles’ neck again but this time he was using lips and tongue and teeth and holyfuckingshit those lips should be illegal for the things they were making Stiles think of doing. He rutted helplessly into Isaac’s thigh, moaning at the rough friction it brought him and was quite certain he was going to hell for all the thoughts he was having about Mr. Harris’ desk right now. There was a loud thud inside the classroom and they both froze and wrenched apart, staring at each other with wide, terror-filled eyes.
When Mr. Harris rounded the corner into the back room he found the two of them silently washing out test tubes and tutted. “I see you decided to dawdle so I guess I’ll see the both of you here tomorrow afternoon as well. You won’t be leaving until you finish those so I suggest you stop doing whatever it was you thought was more entertaining and get the job done so that we can all go home.”
“Yes sir,” Stiles replied and he couldn’t even be bothered to sound chastised, which was obviously annoying their teacher but he didn’t see the point in giving him detention again apparently, because he just left them to it.
Once he was out of earshot, Stiles hissed, “Why didn’t you warn us? Aren’t you supposed to have supersonic hearing inside of that werewolf skull of yours?”
Isaac grunted and shot back, “I was a little preoccupied if you didn’t notice.”
Stiles couldn’t stop the smirk that was growing on his face. “Oh, I noticed,” he replied. He glanced down at Isaac’s crotch briefly and then back at his face, which was now tinging pink.
“Fuck you,” Isaac said, but there was no venom behind it and he was grinning lopsided reaching all the way to his eyes, which shone bright blue even in the dim fluorescent lighting.
“Yeah, I sure hope so,” Stiles replied stupidly, knowing how very overrated the comment was but not really caring.
When Isaac’s eyes flashed golden from his words, for once he was glad that Mr. Harris hated his existence and had given him detention again. It was awesome.
- fin -
Author: burntotears
Pairing: Isaac/Stiles
Rating: R
Word Count: 4,363
Spoilers: Season 2
Disclaimer: © MTV
A/N Prompt from Anon Stisaac prompt: Science classroom, Detention aka end of the school day, Harris gives Stiles detention again and Isaac misbehaves on purpose so he gets detention too, blackboard, blue
Stiles quirked an eyebrow while he watched Mr. Harris balance the equation on the blackboard. Their teacher had his back turned away from them as he worked so he didn’t know that Stiles had his hand raised until he finished and his face instantly turned accusing, like Stiles was going to cause trouble rather than ask a question or give input that might have actual merit to the lesson. Stiles couldn’t be surprised by this response though.
He still had no idea what he did to make Mr. Harris hate him so damned much, but today he just wanted to get through the lesson and believe it or not, he enjoyed balancing chemical equations - there was something almost melodic about the process that Stiles just couldn’t seem to bring himself to groan about like the rest of the class. Mr. Harris had continually given him an ‘F’ on almost all of his equations even though they were all correct because he said that Stiles was being ‘flashy’ about his solutions.
“Uh, Mr. Harris, wouldn’t it be easier if you just-” Stiles began to point out in his most innocent voice possible, but he should have known better than to even try.
“I think it would be easier if you just stayed for detention, Mr. Stilinski, since you obviously know more about Chemistry than I do. You can make my lesson plans for me,” Mr. Harris snarked and Stiles just sighed because honestly, he was too used to this to really be phased at this point. He looked apologetically over at Scott and Isaac whom he was supposed to be playing video games with after school that afternoon. Apparently they would be forging on through the arid lands of Pandora without him. He gave them a shrug and mouthed, ‘what are you gonna do?’ and jerked his head toward Mr. Harris and then pointed to his own chest, indicating that their teacher obviously had a vendetta against him that would never be sated.
Isaac was staring at Stiles intently with his baby blues and eventually an evil smirk grew across his illustrious cheekbones. Not that Stiles thought he had illustrious cheekbones or anything. It was common knowledge that Isaac was a good looking guy, obviously, and Stiles was secure enough in his masculinity to appreciate another guy’s beauty - no, not beauty! attractiveness, dammit! - when he saw it. Isaac was attractive, it was just a fact, okay?
Isaac was apparently up to no good though and when Mr. Harris turned his back to balance another equation, he pilfered an eraser from an unsuspecting neighbor who was so busy taking notes she didn’t notice it had been misappropriated until it was soaring across the room and smacking their chemistry teacher in the back of the head with an audible thump. He had definitely put some werewolf strength behind that throw, because their teacher looked livid when he swung around to identify the culprit and Isaac just busted out laughing - large and bright and crinkling at the corners of his eyes with his head thrown back for exaggerated emphasis. Stiles really didn’t understand what he was attempting to do, besides the very obvious wish for getting himself killed. Maybe Mr. Harris hadn’t been the master of the kanima, but that did not make Stiles any less convinced that Mr. Harris was a sadistic maniac.
“Mr. Lahey, it seems you have decided to stay for detention with Mr. Stilinski. How droll that you would choose to lower yourself to the intellectual level of a mere performance monkey,” he stated while looking right at Stiles. Seriously?
“I’ll try to contain myself from flinging poo,” Isaac replied and a few people laughed. Mr. Harris deemed that unworthy of a response apparently, because he went and sat at his desk and told them to work on the rest of the equations on their own. Stiles snuck a glance at Isaac who looked smug and offered him a genuine smile that definitely reached his eyes. Stiles smiled back in response, rolling his eyes and returning to his doomed-to-fail equations.
-----
“Why’d you do that?” Stiles asked under his breath when Mr. Harris was shuffling through some papers at his desk. He kept his head facing the paper of equations in front of him but his eyes were gazing to his right where Isaac sat next to him in detention that afternoon. It didn’t really matter how softly Stiles spoke, of course, since Isaac would be able to hear him without any trouble thanks to his werewolf sensibilities.
Isaac’s head tilted slightly in Stiles’ direction, but otherwise he didn’t make any indication that he’d heard what was said. It was possible that he wasn’t certain what Stiles was referring to, but that was doubtful - he just wasn’t going to answer the question. Isaac had been weird around Stiles lately and with his inability to read people well, Stiles wasn’t entirely positive what was going on underneath that curly mop of hair. He, Scott, and Stiles had become something that could possibly resemble friends ever since Gerard’s disappearance. However, when you were running in separate packs and dealing with brand new werewolves that threatened to expose your existence on a consistent daily basis it was a struggle to define normal, everyday things like friendship. It was also an endeavor for Stiles to even begin attempting to decipher some of the looks and actions that Isaac threw at him these days. Hence, Isaac sitting next to him in detention on purpose like it was some kind of solidation of their endless comradery became just another thing for Stiles to file under ‘what the hell?’
He sighed when he continued to receive no answer and pulled out a blank sheet of notebook paper. On the top line he wrote:
dude, seriously - WTF?
He passed it over to Isaac when he knew Mr. Harris wasn’t looking and tried to focus on his next equation, but the letters and subscripts kept swimming in front of his face. It didn’t take long before Isaac shoved the sheet of paper back over Stiles’ equation sheet. Stiles examined his messy scrawl for a moment before he began to read the actual words that were written there:
Note passing- really? Are we in fifth grade now?
Do you like me? Check Yes □ or No □
Stiles considered it for a moment. He logically knew that Isaac had been joking when he wrote it and that he shouldn’t be considering anything at all, yet for some reason he was still sitting there contemplating if maybe he did have something of a torch for Isaac. Things had been weird between them and now that he had this in writing in front of him, he began to wonder if maybe the awkwardness was more than it seemed for both of them. So he did the bravest thing he could think of - even if it was perceived as a joke, he still would consider it brave regardless - and passed the paper back to the werewolf.
Do you like me? Check Yes ☑ or No □
Stiles was certain he heard rather than saw in his periphery Isaac’s head snap up to look at him, but Stiles was still glancing at his homework. Isaac was determined to stare him down though (apparently when he wanted answers he didn’t give up either) so finally Stiles looked over and met his gaze. His blue eyes looked darker than they normally did - not that Stiles was so familiar with their normal color that he would notice such a subtle change. Isaac began to study Stiles’ face, eyes darting back and forth incessantly and Stiles felt his face grow hotter as those eyes continued to graze over the planes of his face like he was some kind of art piece that needed figuring out.
“What are you doing?” Isaac asked quietly after what felt like decades of scrutiny, making sure that Mr. Harris couldn’t hear him.
Stiles shrugged. “You asked; I answered.”
Isaac didn’t say anything else and Stiles wasn’t certain what that was supposed to mean. They both went back to their equations, but there was some serious heat radiating off the both of them and Stiles swore he could smell the discomfort coming from Isaac as he worked on his homework.
The phone on Mr. Harris’ desk rang about ten minutes later and both of the teenagers started at the sound, apparently wound tighter than should be humanly (or supernaturally) possible. Their teacher paid them no mind, of course, and answered the phone with a few ‘Uh huh’s’ and ‘Alright’s’ before hanging up and looking at the two students in his room. “I have to go down to the office and assist our new principal with a small matter. Since I don’t delude myself by thinking that either of you know how to remain in your seats and behave while I’m not here, you can clean out test tubes and beakers to keep yourselves occupied. If you’re not finished when I return, then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon as well.” He stood up and left without saying anything more.
Stiles didn’t look up from his equation sheet. He gripped his pencil in his fingers tightly, now even more acutely aware of Isaac still sitting next to him. The last thing he had expected (or wanted, really) was to be left alone with Isaac. At least with Mr. Harris in the room they wouldn’t have the chance to talk, but now - now he didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to do or say. He stopped assaulting his pencil finally and pushed away from the lab table, forcing himself to take a deep breath. They would need to start cleaning now if they didn’t want to spend even more awkward time alone together like this tomorrow, so he set himself to the task of dealing with the uncomfortableness at hand.
“Well uh, you want to dry while I wash?” he asked and ran a hand over his shaved head, looking down at Isaac’s shoes rather than anywhere near his face. Feet were safe and didn’t convey any emotion that would further confuse Stiles about what the hell had just happened.
Isaac stood and stalked away from Stiles, who finally chanced a glance up at the werewolf now that his back was turned and no eye contact was possible. Isaac’s shoulders were taut and his back was stiff and he looked far too uncomfortable for the task of washing lab equipment, but then again, so was Stiles so no big surprise there.
He followed the other teen to the back room where Mr. Harris took all the dirty glassware and dug out some rubber gloves for them to put on. He already knew where everything was because he had done this countless times before, thanks to Mr. Harris’ ever-expounding ideas of what he could get Stiles to do while he kept him after school. He handed a pair of yellow gloves to Isaac without actually looking at him and jumped a little when the other boy snatched them from his proffered hand. Well this was going to be just lovely.
Isaac began running the water to wash the glassware and scrounged up the soap. Stiles pulled out the container that they always used to sterilize the glassware when they were done washing it out and tossed in a Milton tablet. When the sink was filled on Isaac’s side, Stiles placed the container under the spray of the water and watched it fill, trying not to take notice of how Isaac seemed to be radiating annoyance like it was going out of style. Stiles didn’t know how things had gone from discomfort to anger, but however it was happening, he didn’t like it.
“So, uh-” Stiles began, not even certain what he was going to say, but honestly, he just wanted to break the silence. It was beginning to stifle him. Isaac reached over and abruptly shut off the water, caging the room in an even heavier silence than before. The movement had Stiles staggering to a halt, grasping for words he hadn’t had in the first place. He gave up and moved the sterilization container from the sink and donned his gloves just as Isaac had.
Isaac wielded the test tube brush and began dipping a tube in the water; he ran the test tube brush inside of the tube with careful precision, then handed it over to Stiles without so much as a glance. “Hey, I said that I would wash them,” Stiles protested. Isaac’s response was to growl at him while shaking the tube in his hand to get Stiles to take it already. Stiles snatched the tube and breathed out in annoyance, “Seriously, dude? Okay, what is your problem?”
Isaac had already picked up another test tube and was brushing it out, but at Stiles’ words he let the tube plop into the water below, splashing them both with warm water and soap. In a low, growling voice he said, “It’s not a joke,” and that was it. He fished out the tube from the bottom of the sink and finished scrubbing it, handing it over to Stiles to rinse and put in the sterilizing solution.
Stiles raised an eyebrow, his face twisted in confusion. “What’s not a joke? Why are you suddenly so pissed at me?” Maybe he should know what was going on, but his brain was too full at that point to even begin to try and process where Isaac might be coming from.
Isaac handed him another test tube and grunted, setting the test tube brush down and bracing his hands against the counter like his feet wouldn’t be able to support him anymore if he didn’t. Stiles rinsed the tube in his hands and put it in the sterilizing solution, then finally turned to look at Isaac. He wasn’t looking toward Stiles, just staring down at his gloved hands like they held the answers to all the unspoken questions between them. If they did, Stiles wanted in on that - like right now. “I wasn’t joking when I asked you that,” Isaac said quietly and his voice was wavering slightly.
Stiles opened his mouth to ask what the hell he was talking about once again, but then he remembered the note that they had passed and how the past twenty or so minutes had become awkward after that. Oh right. “Yeah, and I wasn’t joking when I answered,” Stiles replied, his head spinning. Isaac really hadn’t meant it as a joke?
The werewolf’s head shot up and he finally looked at Stiles. His eyes were narrowed and dark. “I’m being serious, Stiles.”
Stiles threw his hands in the air, huffing in annoyance and frustration. “What the hell makes you think that I’m not?”
Isaac pushed away from the counter and squared his shoulders, pulling himself to his full height in front of Stiles. “I know you’re not,” he deadpanned, leaving no room for argument. Unfortunately for him, Stiles didn’t take social cues very well.
“Fuck, Isaac, I don’t know what you want from me. It doesn’t seem to matter what I tell you because you don’t believe me, so I just...” he trailed off, staring at Isaac with wild ideas flying through his brain. He could latch onto one of them, but the chances that it wouldn’t backfire horribly were fairly slim. Looking at the current situation, however, he didn’t think that it could get much worse than trying to argue his case to someone who was determined not to believe him.
So Stiles steeled his nerves and did the stupidest thing on his list of dumb ideas - he pushed against Isaac’s chest until his back hit the wall behind him and then pressed his lips firmly along the lines of Isaac’s. It was nothing more than a peck (Stiles was only so brave, okay?), but it should have gotten the message across rather plainly. Stiles pulled back from Isaac’s face, his hand still pressed against the werewolf’s chest to hold him in place - not that he’d actually be capable of doing so if Isaac wanted to move.
Isaac didn’t want to move. Or maybe Isaac was incapable of moving because he was in complete and utter shock. Stiles was not at all able to decipher the look that was on the other teen’s face. He was staring at Stiles with a gaping mouth, his eyes a deep shade of blue and his pupils wide; he almost looked afraid. Stiles waited for him to say something - anything, but no, Isaac just kept gaping at him and looking kind of wounded. Even more vexed than before, Stiles huffed and said, “Well? Are you starting to get the picture now?”
Isaac looked down at Stiles’ hand on his chest and Stiles wondered if maybe the whole ‘pushing him against the wall to kiss him’ cliche had been overdoing it. He took his hand away and rubbed it over his head uncomfortably - then remembered he still had his gloves on and was now dripping water down his face. He looked at Isaac’s chest which had a wet patch from where his hand had been pressed and groaned; he hadn’t even remembered that his gloves were on - fantastic. He started tugging them off just as Isaac made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded like a cross between a squeak and a growl, if that was even possible. He closed his mouth finally and Stiles’ eyes were drawn to the movement, though once they were there they lingered, because Stiles had kissed those lips once and he wouldn’t mind doing it again. If only Isaac had the damned courtesy of telling him what the hell was going on in that head half the time.
“I uh - I guess I shouldn’t have done that,” Stiles said finally when it was apparent that Isaac wasn’t going to say anything and maybe Stiles had made a mistake by being so forward. It wouldn’t be the first time. “I’m sorry,” he added, backing away some more from Isaac and sighing. He tossed his gloves on the counter and immediately regretted it because they at least gave him something to fiddle with during this entirely too uncomfortable confrontation. He began to worry at the hem of his t-shirt instead.
Isaac shook his head and it was like he had finally come to from some daze he’d been inside of. Knowing as much as he did about Isaac, Stiles wouldn’t be surprised if he’d been stuck inside of his own head - he seemed to do that a lot. Isaac pulled the gloves from his hands and tossed them off where Stiles had set his own and then he was advancing toward Stiles in two easy strides, pushing into Stiles’ space until he had no choice but to back up into the counter. Isaac boxed him in by placing a hand on the counter on either side of Stiles’ body. He stared him down with those slightly darker blue eyes - that Stiles didn’t notice the color change of because he wasn’t that obsessed with Isaac’s eyes, thank you - and said, “Stiles.”
Apparently that was all he had to say on the matter. Isaac leaned in and Stiles thought he was going to kiss him, but instead he shoved his nose into the crook of Stiles’ neck and breathed in deeply. Stiles stiffened, uncertain as to what the hell Isaac was even doing or why. Isaac rubbed his nose up the side of Stiles’ neck toward his jaw and kept breathing him in over and over again every time he moved his nose to a new spot. “Umm...” Stiles squeaked and Isaac brought his nose up to Stiles’ lips and sniffed them. A grunt sounded in the back of his throat and Stiles was startled by a tongue suddenly being swiped across his lips - he hadn’t been expecting that. Isaac ran his tongue over Stiles’ lips two or three times in slow succession before he tongued Stiles’ upper lip into his mouth and began sucking gingerly on it.
Stiles felt his legs give out beneath him and he had to lean into the counter to keep himself upright. Isaac seemed to notice because he stepped forward and pressed himself flush against Stiles, shoving a leg between Stiles’ in the process. Isaac ran his tongue across Stiles’ upper lip that was wedged between his lips and bit down on it softly. Stiles whimpered and scrabbled for Isaac’s chest, clinging to his henley in urgency. This was entirely too intense and overwhelming and Stiles didn’t know up from down and all he really wanted was to kiss Isaac but he didn’t want him to stop - doing - that. His brain was literally turning to mush inside of his head.
“Isaac,” Stiles breathed out lowly against Isaac’s chin and that was apparently enough. Isaac growled and Stiles opened his eyes for a moment to see a flash of golden irises before Isaac was pushing him back hard into the counter and kissing his mouth in earnest now. Stiles laced his fingers through those curls he had been dying to touch and tugged a little, all too pleased with the groan that sounded inside of Isaac’s mouth that he swallowed into his own. The werewolf wrapped his arms around Stiles’ waist and pulled him impossibly closer to himself, working his mouth over Stiles’ in something akin to desperation.
Isaac pressed his back further into the counter and Stiles thought that he might break him in half against the edge of it, yet he couldn’t bring himself to really care because Isaac Lahey had his hands on his ass and was making out with him in detention, for fuck’s sake - and okay, Stiles understood why he had gotten himself detention on purpose now. Or at least he hoped that he did, because he’d be damned if he didn’t get to do this again.
Stiles moaned into Isaac’s mouth as the werewolf let his tongue explore the insides of Stiles’ mouth like it was something to be put to memory. He couldn’t do much but hold onto Isaac by his shirt and his hair, which he couldn’t help tugging at, because it was just so damned soft and curly and it kept making Isaac groan and crush his lips harder against Stiles’ mouth. Stiles tried to fight against him, pushing his tongue forward to find purchase into Isaac’s mouth, but the werewolf batted it away like it was nothing and continued his expedition toward Stiles’ tonsils - the bastard. Enough was enough, Stiles wanted a turn, dammit; he grabbed a good fistful of Isaac’s curls and tugged hard, pulling the werewolf off balance and out of his mouth. After a quick breath and well-earned smirk, Stiles dove in and captured Isaac’s bottom lip in his teeth, worrying over it with nibbling bites and then soothing his tongue across after. Isaac seemed to be melting into him, losing his own footing as Stiles took his own sweet time and had to brace a hand on the counter to keep himself upright. Well, served him right.
Stiles knew logically that they needed to cool things off because they were: a) at school, b) in detention, and c) trekking into new territory that had yet to be blazed for the two of them - but he was finding it increasingly difficult to remember his list the more that Isaac shoved his thigh in between Stiles’ legs and rubbed it against his hardening dick. That was seriously unfair. Stiles pulled back and brandished his most intense glare imaginable, which looked more like a smoldering ‘please fuck me’ face thanks to his current state of mind. “You - are - an asshole,” he huffed out breathlessly.
Isaac, true to form, pulled out the best assface smirk he had and used his well placed hand to squeeze Stiles’ ass, eyes twinkling as Stiles groaned. He leaned in and went for Stiles’ neck again but this time he was using lips and tongue and teeth and holyfuckingshit those lips should be illegal for the things they were making Stiles think of doing. He rutted helplessly into Isaac’s thigh, moaning at the rough friction it brought him and was quite certain he was going to hell for all the thoughts he was having about Mr. Harris’ desk right now. There was a loud thud inside the classroom and they both froze and wrenched apart, staring at each other with wide, terror-filled eyes.
When Mr. Harris rounded the corner into the back room he found the two of them silently washing out test tubes and tutted. “I see you decided to dawdle so I guess I’ll see the both of you here tomorrow afternoon as well. You won’t be leaving until you finish those so I suggest you stop doing whatever it was you thought was more entertaining and get the job done so that we can all go home.”
“Yes sir,” Stiles replied and he couldn’t even be bothered to sound chastised, which was obviously annoying their teacher but he didn’t see the point in giving him detention again apparently, because he just left them to it.
Once he was out of earshot, Stiles hissed, “Why didn’t you warn us? Aren’t you supposed to have supersonic hearing inside of that werewolf skull of yours?”
Isaac grunted and shot back, “I was a little preoccupied if you didn’t notice.”
Stiles couldn’t stop the smirk that was growing on his face. “Oh, I noticed,” he replied. He glanced down at Isaac’s crotch briefly and then back at his face, which was now tinging pink.
“Fuck you,” Isaac said, but there was no venom behind it and he was grinning lopsided reaching all the way to his eyes, which shone bright blue even in the dim fluorescent lighting.
“Yeah, I sure hope so,” Stiles replied stupidly, knowing how very overrated the comment was but not really caring.
When Isaac’s eyes flashed golden from his words, for once he was glad that Mr. Harris hated his existence and had given him detention again. It was awesome.
- fin -