There are no fireworks. Time doesn't stop for them, doesn't even slow down, and the people around them don't start clapping – then again, Isaac isn't sure he'd notice if they did. It's not like a scene out of the movies, a slow motion-worthy moment with a dramatic film score playing in the background, softly at first, getting increasingly louder with each passing second. Just familiar beats and Justin Timberlake's voice to remind Isaac how very real and new and terrifying this all is, the press of Scott's mouth against his, the hesitant way in which their lips move together, questioning and unsure, afraid of going too far too soon.

A minuscule part of him thinks that maybe he should stop and apologize right away. Another part sort of almost wants to cry because how could this even happen, when did he go from feeling so wonderfully comfortable around Scott to wanting to apologize every time he touches him? There are moments, sometimes, when Isaac can't help but feel jealous of what Scott and Stiles have, craving that simple, steady kind of friendship where an arm around the shoulders and a hand on the knee means nothing more than reassurance, I'm here, you're not alone, I'm on your side. He wants to be able to walk in on Scott in the shower and casually ask if he should order pizza or Chinese, just like Stiles does. He wants Scott to be his best friend and he wants that to be enough, no other confusing feelings getting in the way, threatening relentlessly to fuck up the best thing Isaac's ever had. But from time to time when they're in the locker room, joking around and being boys, too many boisterous teenagers in one place for anyone to pay special attention to Isaac, he watches as Scott and Stiles slap each other with wet towels, laughing when the marks on Stiles' torso don't heal as quickly as Scott's, and he realizes that instead of playing the same friendly game he wants to push Scott up against the wall and use his mouth and hands to leave his own marks on Scott's body, and he's reminded why friendship is not enough for him anymore.

He's panicking and screwing this up, he's well aware of that, thinking too much instead of responding to the kiss like he wants to, his brain becoming his own worst enemy once more. He tries to focus on the sensation of Scott's fingers digging into his hips, grateful for the minute pain he feels before his skin starts healing almost instantly, a much-needed distraction from all the fears and doubts clouding his senses.

His hands come up to cup Scott's face, gently tilting his head to the side, coaxing Scott's lips open with the tip of his tongue. Scott goes with it, grinning into the kiss, and Isaac lets himself be giddy for a second because Scott didn't pull back and that's a good sign, it's great, and it's even better to have Scott's tongue tracing his bottom lip, the edge of his teeth, confidently sliding along Isaac's own, tasting like sugary Coke and unspoken words.

Isaac is distantly aware that they're moving, but he's pretty sure what they're doing can't be called dancing, slowly spinning on the spot, bodies pressed together with eager hands trying to memorize too much, too fast, too soon. Isaac grabs a fistful of Scott's shirt, trying to somehow pull him even closer, to deepen the kiss, moaning softly when one of Scott's hands slides up his neck, into his hair, tugging lightly at a longer curl, make me feel like I am breathing, feel like I am human.

But then Scott pulls back, gasping, pupils blown, lips slick and kiss-swollen. Isaac feels ridiculously pleased with himself because he did that, it's because of him that Scott's looking like that, and he wants to lean in and kiss him again, to never stop kissing him, so he does, one hand on the back of Scott's neck, the other on his waist, pulling him in, but Scott's palms are on his chest, pushing lightly until Isaac has no choice but to stop.

He wants to ask what's wrong but he has a feeling he already knows.

Scott blinks up at him, wide and earnest and regretful, and Isaac knows what's coming. "We, uh. We can't," he says, shaking his head slowly, then nodding twice, like he's trying to convince himself more than anything. Isaac nods too, robotically. He doesn't trust himself to speak right now. "Can't do this to her, man," Scott continues. "She doesn't deserve it."

Isaac nods one more time. He's right, Scott's right, of course he is. He knows he's right, he does, but that doesn't make it easier. To walk away from something he's wanted for so long, pretend he doesn't want it anymore. That's not – he can't – it's not –

Not fair. It's all he can think about. This isn't fair.

"What do you want, Scott?" he snaps suddenly, surprising himself and surprising Scott, whose eyes go impossibly wide again. Isaac almost laughs – no, he actually laughs, sounding hysteric and desperate and angry. Scott tries to put a hand on his shoulder, but Isaac grabs his wrist, grabs his other arm too, pulls him closer. It's not fair that they are always the ones who have to hurt and bleed and givegivegive without asking for anything in return. It's not fair how much they've already had to sacrifice and everything Scott's had to give up on, and saying it's okay for the sake of others when your own heart is breaking is actually the farthest fucking thing from okay. And Isaac – he's not a saint, has never tried to fool himself into thinking he is, so he doesn't feel all that guilty for letting his selfishness win this one time. He just needs Scott to do it too, to stop being so fucking altruistic for once, to stop thinking about what others want and need and deserve, and just give in to what he wants. "Scott," he tries again, voice softer, his hands cupping Scott's cheeks as they both close their eyes. "Scott. What do you want?"

/ / /

It's a bit surreal, Isaac thinks, his mouth curving into a grin as Scott's hands slide under his shirt, cold fingertips on his stomach and soft lips on his neck making him shiver. He never thought he'd get to live the standard cliché scene from every teen movie ever and he sort of wants to laugh at himself, how even is this his life, honestly. He's lying on his back in the backseat of Stiles' jeep, long legs wrapped loosely around Scott's hips, stealing kisses and genuine smiles and moments that somehow feel lighter than they actually are.

It wouldn't take long to drive back to the motel, he's pretty sure they could make it in under seven minutes if they tried, but touching each other makes even breathing seem second-rate right now. Isaac supposes it would be nice if he didn't bump his head or elbow or knee against something every time he attempts to move, but then Scott sucks a bruise into the junction of his neck and shoulder, frowning at it when it heals right away and starting all over again, teeth and lips and tongue, and Isaac can't remember what he was complaining about.

"Off," he half-demands, half-whimpers, tugging at Scott's shirt with one hand, grabbing his chin with the other to bring their lips back together, urgent and desperate and a lot less playful than half a minute ago. "Take it off."

Scott nods, kneeling between Isaac's legs with his back slightly hunched to tug his shirt over his head in one swift movement, and Isaac doesn't hesitate to trail his mouth down Scott's torso, sucking and nipping at his collarbone, flicking his tongue over a hardened nipple, unabashedly enjoying the throaty moan Scott lets out. He's seen Scott shirtless – hell, he's seen him naked – so many times before, but never like this, never this close, caramel skin smooth and warm and all his to touch and kiss and taste.

It's still mind-blowing, if he's being honest, that he's allowed to do this. To run his hands down Scott's sides, fingertips whispering promises into the spaces between his ribs while Isaac's lips brush over Scott's pulse point, blunt, human teeth scraping lightly over his skin. He takes his own shirt off before letting Scott push him back down again, his heart thudding in his chest like a clock that can't remember how to work right anymore, a ticking time bomb, a siren song that Scott follows without a second thought, pressing his hand flat over Isaac's heart, replacing it with his lips a moment later, a kiss too tender and chaste for what this is supposed to be.

And that – that's something Isaac can't handle. Not now, not ever in this lifetime and possibly the next one too, but especially not right now, so he kisses Scott again, teeth and tongue and unfeigned urgency concealing every particle of overwhelming affection that Isaac desperately tries not to think about. He'd rather let this feeling eat away at him for the rest of forever than try to name it, try to figure out what it means that this – kissing Scott, touching him, learning how his breathing hitches when Isaac sinks his teeth in Scott's bottom lip – it's not something uncontrollable and overpowering. Isaac doesn't have that excuse, can't say he doesn't know what he's doing because he's perfectly aware of what he's doing, it's a conscious decision not to stop, and that's probably worse, actually, that he hasn't completely lost his self-control but decides to keep going anyway, to keep kissing Scott like nothing and no one else matters.

He'll feel guilty about it in the morning.

He wraps his legs tighter around Scott's waist, one hand coming up to fist in his hair when Scott grinds his hips down, both of them inhaling sharply at the same time. Maybe they should have talk about it first, Isaac thinks then. Make sure they know what they're still comfortable with before it all gets too much. But Scott does it again and Isaac whimpers helplessly, arching his back and lifting his hips, cursing when he hears Scott's drawn-out moan.

He's getting dizzy, his fingers almost numb when he unzips Scott's jeans and shoves them around his thighs. It's amazing how much this feels like drowning, flying and sinking all at once, every sense overwhelmed. It shouldn't even surprise him anymore that it's Scott's touch what brings him back, his fingers closing around Isaac's wrists.

"No, no, let – let me," he mumbles into Isaac's neck, his breath warm against the sensitive skin. Isaac nods, eyes rolling in the back of his head, another whimper leaving his lips when Scott cups him through his jeans.

He's fine with this, he really is, perfectly happy to let Scott take control, because it's still them and this is how things work between them, Scott leads and Isaac follows willingly, trusting Scott more than he thought he'd ever be able to trust anyone. Trusting Scott blindly.

It's when he tugs on Scott's boxer briefs and Scott murmurs "You don't – you don't have to," shyly and with a hint of guilt, that Isaac realizes something's off, because if Scott hasn't yet figured out that Isaac really, really wants this, there's something wrong here.

He pushes at Scott's shoulders until he's sitting and Isaac can climb into his lap, legs on either side of Scott's hips. "Stop it," he hisses, pressing his lips hard against Scott's for a second before pulling away. "You're not – this isn't – you're not making me do something I don't want, okay? Shit, Scott, I started this, how can you think I don't – I – just. It won't – no. No. For fuck's sake, stop trying to take the blame for everything," he almost begs, kissing Scott again, licking into his mouth like he's trying to chase the taste of guilt and every other bad thought away.

He starts rolling his hips, swallowing every moan Scott lets out, fingers pulling gently on the soft strands of dark hair. Scott grabs him by the back of his neck, fingernails digging crescent-shaped marks into his skin, and Isaac groans, taken aback by the sharp sting. His brain needs a moment to catch up, feeling his skin starting to heal slowly, taking longer than usual, but then he remembers, with a stupid, ridiculous, warm feeling spreading inside of his chest cavity, that Scott is an Alpha now. He could leave marks if he wanted; temporary tattoos, short stories written in long, red lines on the pale skin of Isaac's back. Isaac can't explain why, but he wants it – wants Scott to leave a visible mark on him, to match the ones Isaac already has on his heart.

"This – this okay?" Scott asks as he undoes Isaac's jeans, letting his hand slip under the waistband of his boxers, wrapping his fingers tentatively around Isaac's cock.

Isaac lets out a whine, loud and needy and he'd probably be terribly embarrassed in any other circumstance, but right now all he cares about is that Scott's hand doesn't stop stroking him. "Definitely okay," he pants, forehead coming to rest on Scott's shoulder, hips bucking mindlessly into Scott's touch.

He can hear Scott smiling when he mumbles, "Okay, yeah. Yeah, good," so he leans forward to steal the smile from Scott's lips and fall in love with it instantly before tucking it safely into a corner of his heart.

Scott starts moving his hand faster, grip tight and confident, his hips thrusting up rhythmically, reminding Isaac to grind down. He runs his thumb over the head of Isaac's cock, dragging it over the slit and back down again. Isaac tenses, the heat pooling low in his stomach spreading through his entire body, and he comes with a moan that gets lost in Scott's mouth, spilling hot over his fingers.

He can feel Scott still bucking beneath him, fast, erratic thrusts telling Isaac that Scott is close too, and he pushes down with all the energy he can muster, once, twice, and then Scott lets his head fall back, bitten lips parted on a silent cry as he comes.

Isaac takes it all in, the rise and fall of Scott's chest, the slight quirk of his mouth before a dopey, satiated smile takes over, the way his eyes flutter open, warmth and affection shining bright and making Isaac's stomach twist with some unnamed feeling. He brushes his thumb over Scott's cheekbone, trying to convey every word he can't bring himself to utter through a simple, gentle touch that means so much more than a bunch of random letters ever could.

Scott doesn't say anything either. Instead he turns his head and presses his lips to the inside of Isaac's wrist, a silent confession, words that neither of them is allowed to say out loud.

Not anymore.

It happens in the blink of an eye – a sharp intake of breath, a flash of red, and Isaac hears the stutter in Scott's heartbeat at the same time he can feel it in his own chest. And just like that, reality comes crashing down.

/ / /

He doesn't sleep that night. He's fairly sure he's going to regret it in a few hours, since he's supposed to be driving and he sort of needs to be able to keep his eyes open in order to do that, but, well, it is what it is. Normally he only feels so tense, so painfully on edge right before a fight, anticipation humming in his veins, emotions bottled up inside waiting to be released. It's something that he's used to – he knows how it works, how to control it, it doesn't scare him. This, though. This, now – it feels as if he's going to explode, all the words stuck in his throat threatening to burst out of him and make a mess that no one could ever fix. There's a rope tied around his neck, made of guilt and heartbreak and misery, and every time he tries to get rid of it his fingers get tangled and he ends up choking on air and unwelcomed tears that remind him how pathetic he truly is. A couple of times he thinks he's actually going to throw up, rushes to the bathroom expecting letters to pour from his throat onto the light brown tiles, but nothing happens, everything stays inside, I'm sorry and please don't give up on me yet locked in another box that he doesn't plan on ever opening again.

He watches the sun rise, watches the morning light seep through thin curtains, dull and cold and dirty. He watches as everything falls to pieces and doesn't say a thing.

Scott wakes up one hour and thirty-two minutes later. He takes one look at Isaac, eyes wide open and focused, and Isaac doesn't want to think it but – it feels nice to be the center of Scott's world even if only for a second.

"I'll drive," Scott says firmly, managing somehow to keep his voice gentle at the same time, and it shouldn't – it shouldn't mean anything but it takes everything in Isaac not to break down when Scott places a kiss on the top of his head.

/ / /

The way in which people are drawn to Scott is almost otherworldly, Isaac has thought on more than one occasion. Like planets orbiting the sun, cheesy as that sounds. Scott is a beacon, shining so, so bright and, honestly, it shouldn't come as a surprise that his light attracts darkness – broken individuals who have lost everything, every last sliver of hope and faith that anything good might be real instead of just a figment of their imagination. People like Derek and Deucalion. People like Isaac.

He used to think there was something about himself, something inherently repulsive and unlovable that made everyone leave him behind or just plain ignore him, that he wasn't worthy of others' attention, let alone their love. And then Scott was there to teach him otherwise, to tear all his walls down without even trying, to gain his trust and make Isaac open up to him so easily.

And the thing is, Isaac is used to people not caring about him. It doesn't hurt anymore. But Scott cares and Scott won't leave, and Isaac hates himself for being so ridiculously weak even more than he hates everyone who is responsible for him turning into this broken boy who thinks that not being let down for once will hurt so much more than being left behind.

/ / /

He doesn't remember falling asleep but he wakes up to the pitter-patter of rain against the window and kiss me hard before you go coming from the radio, Scott's fingers drumming on the steering wheel.

"Hey," he croaks out, voice rough from sleep. Scott turns his head quickly, mouth curving into a warm smile before he focuses on the road again. "How long did I – "

"Uh." Scott tilts his head a little, eyebrows furrowed. "About five hours, I think? It's okay, you didn't miss anything, just rain and clouds and some more rain," he adds when Isaac gives him a wide-eyed look. It's not that Isaac feels like he should apologize for sleeping but – well, yeah, he actually kind of does. Old habits and all that. "I, uh, got us some food. Double cheeseburger, right?" Scott continues, pointing at the McDonald's bags in the backseat.

As if on cue, Isaac's stomach starts growling. His heart does a somersault but that's less important – just Isaac being completely ridiculous, because Scott is that kind of person who remembers little things, like what his friends like to eat, and it doesn't mean anything, and Isaac should have learned that by now.

"I – uh. Yeah, thanks," he replies meekly, grabbing some fries and the burger that he begins to unwrap immediately, mostly so that he doesn't have to look at Scott. He's being stupid, he knows that, but he can't – can't deal with Scott being nice to him right now. He needs room to breathe, to be alone with his thoughts for a while, and Scott being friendly and sunny and warm makes Isaac want to lean into him and never let go, even if he's aware that running away would be the safer option.

Well, he sighs inwardly, equal parts resigned and angry with himself, if their friendship wasn't completely fucked before the trip, it definitely is now.

"You know," Scott begins, his face carefully blank. Isaac mentally prepares himself for the soothing lie that Scott is about to offer, but his heartbeat is steady, so Isaac doesn't try to stop him from whatever he plans on saying next. "If you want to tell Allison about – about us. I, uh, I get it. It's okay. I know that last night was a one-time thing, but, um. I just – I don't want you to think it's your fault, okay? And I don't want her to think that either if you decide to tell her, so, like, if you want to, we could tell her together and – "

Isaac bursts out laughing. He's pretty sure he's never sounded less amused in his life, though, and Scott must hear all the bitterness that Isaac can't hold in anymore because he stops talking. He needs a second to rearrange the puzzle pieces and reassign the parts each of them is meant to play. He supposes it speaks volumes about the relationship the three of them have that somehow it's still a bit unclear to him who he cheated on and when.

"Do you want me to break up with Allison?" he blurts out, the words slipping out of his mouth before he can even realize what he's saying.

"Do you want to break up with Allison?" Scott counters, sounding like he already knows the answer, and Isaac bites his bottom lip until he can taste blood because he needs something to distract him from the resignation in Scott's voice before he can get his hopes up again.

And the truth is – he doesn't know. Fine, Allison did try to kill him – the whole pack, actually – that one time, but Isaac isn't that much of a hypocrite to act like he forgot that he tried to poison Lydia once, and they're sort of friends now. Second chances and all. And Allison is strong and brave and absolutely stunning and somehow, miraculously, she actually likes Isaac. She's not unattainable, which seems is all Scott will ever be. She's the safe option that Isaac should be running towards.

"I just – I've seen how you look at each other," Scott adds when Isaac doesn't respond. Resigned. He definitely sounds resigned. Isaac wishes he could tell if it has to do with Scott's feelings for Allison – is he still in love with her, even now? – or maybe – maybe – no. No. "And how she smiles at you, man," Scott continues, a fond look on his face, brown eyes glinting with memories, "I haven't seen her smile like that in – a really long time."

Isaac doesn't say anything to that. Doesn't tell Scott that hearing him talk like this makes his heart crumble. He looks out the window, the raindrops drawing patterns on the glass while his nails sink into the skin of his palms; the pain makes it easier to breathe – as opposed to every mile that brings them closer to home.

Scott's voice is solemn but filled with affection when he speaks again. "It doesn't have to be complicated, Isaac. Having good things. And you and her – I think you could be great for each other. "

Isaac sighs. And I think you and I could be perfect sits on the tip of his tongue, heavy and light and painful and amazing at the same time, but he doesn't open his mouth. Because words are still terrifying and he doesn't know how to make them do what he wants, and most of the time the things Isaac says and the things Isaac means are two very different stories with nothing in common other than the protagonist's name.

He closes his eyes and steadies his breathing, pretending to fall asleep once again.

Scott turns the radio off.

/ / /

Things don't really change. Isaac keeps dating Allison and Scott doesn't stop being his best friend and if Derek notices how their hearts sometimes start beating out of rhythm at the most random moments, he never mentions it.

Scott is still trying to avoid his father and Stiles and Isaac are always there to put a glass wall between them, one that Scott is free to break whenever he wants to, whenever he feels ready. Until that happens, Stiles and Isaac agree to keep an eye on him and help however they can, an arm around Scott's shoulders or a snippy remark that Melissa can't help but smile guiltily at, but which is effective enough to make the Agent leave Scott alone.

And maybe there's this one time after an argument filled with venom-coated words that leave angry red marks on Scott's heart and in his eyes, when even Stiles' jokes and threats against his father fail to make Scott laugh, and Isaac doesn't know how to fix it, what to say to make Scott feel better, so he kisses Scott after Stiles leaves and maybe Scott kisses him back, but that isn't something they talk about.

/ / /

Sometimes he thinks Allison knows. He hasn't told her, doesn't plan on doing it either, but every now and then she gives Isaac this look, soft and compassionate, like she understands perfectly, like she knows exactly what's going on inside of him and has no trouble naming this feeling that Isaac still can't figure out if he's running away from or running towards it.

It's when Isaac curls his fingers around Scott's elbow, pulling him unnecessarily close to whisper something that Scott could hear from a mile away or when Scott gives him a particularly blinding smile, one that Allison recognizes without difficulty since she's the only one who has ever received it before. When Aiden starts making jokes at Isaac's expense, just this side of cruel, and Scott shoots him a look that makes Aiden shut his mouth right away; when Scott's hand comes to rest on the back of Isaac's neck, thumb rubbing circles into the skin there, the touch comforting for a brief second before starting to send sparks down his spine. When Scott leans into Isaac before he realizes what he's doing and pulls away with a sheepish, apologetic smile that Isaac pretends not to notice and he wraps an arm around Scott's shoulders instead.

It's the norm for them and no one questions it. Allison doesn't either, at least not aloud, but her eyes keep telling Isaac truths he's too afraid to hear.

/ / /

He vaguely remembers a conversation Scott and Stiles had a lifetime ago, before sacrifices and suicide attempts and bonds that no one could have seen taking roots and growing. He remembers Scott saying how everything was so ephemeral and now he hopes Scott was right, hopes that he won't have black fingers wrapped around his heart forever, squeezing until Isaac almost wants to reach inside and take it out and throw it away because it hurts too much. Almost. And then he remembers that nothing lasts forever, and that includes pain. Remembers that some things can take your breath away, but that doesn't mean there won't come a day when you'll forget all about them.

It's not okay yet and maybe Isaac has a playlist of songs that he's only just beginning to feel like he can listen to again without breaking down on the spot, but he's coping. He has to. After all, it's his fault that he ended up here. He should have known better than to think he could stand so close to the sun and not get burned.

/ / /

There's a new girl at school who can't quite keep her eyes off Scott and sometimes Scott looks at her too, and Isaac knows he has no right to be jealous, but, well. He still needs to find a way to swallow around the lump in his throat whenever he sees them together.

Scott swears they aren't dating even if they did go out a times few (six, but who's counting) and for some reason that's when everyone starts giving Isaac sympathetic looks that he really can't make sense of. In case anyone forgot, he does have a girlfriend, thank you very much, and who Scott decides to date or not to date is none of his business.

It's just Melissa and Stiles at first, which is – manageable. He can pretend that Melissa found out something about his shitty past (except she already knows everything, so) and that's what she pities him for. He can tell himself that Stiles is insane (and one of the most perceptive people Isaac's ever met but that's a different story) and that's all there is to it. But then Lydia is suddenly there by his side to steer him away from Scott when he's busy with his not-girlfriend, and Danny attempts to distract him with PC games that aren't even out yet – Isaac doesn't ask – and then, one day, Ethan and Aiden of all people offer to race him to the woods and wrestle if he needs to take his mind off – stuff. Cora takes him shopping because Peter decides that she needs new clothes and apparently Isaac has an eye for fashion or something, and Derek even lets him borrow the car to take Allison to the movies on their two-month anniversary, which is a sure sign of the Apocalypse.

Allison holds his hand through all of it, always right next to him whenever he needs her, a soothing presence that he's more than grateful for because he's on the verge of a breakdown and he doesn't think he could make it out alive on his own.

The whole world wasn't supposed to figure this one out before Isaac found the courage to admit it to himself.

He tries to tell Scott once but the words get stuck in his throat like they always do when he has something meaningful to say, especially to Scott, especially when it comes to this. It doesn't even surprise him that they end up kissing instead.

/ / /

"You can't help it, you know. Who you fall in love with." Allison tells him calmly one day after he brings her home from school. It's going to be one of those conversations that lead to life-altering decisions, Isaac realizes at once, suddenly feeling very small and fearful and young. Then again, Allison has always been braver than him. "It's not something you can control. You can't choose who you fall for," she says like she's simply stating a universal truth, but Isaac can hear the hidden meaning behind her words. It doesn't sound like an accusation. That doesn't make it hurt any less, though. "Sometimes it's – it's so unexpected it's downright terrifying. All of a sudden there's this person in your life and – and you never saw them coming, never thought they could affect you so strongly, but they can and they do, they light up your world and make it so much brighter. Better. They make it better. It's as if with their help you can finally see every color the world has to offer after spending forever thinking everything was grey. And without them, your life would be – it would – "

"Suck?" Isaac tries when he sees her struggling to find the right words. Allison laughs, sweet and lighthearted, her cheeks dimpling, curls bouncing on her shoulders when she nods. And for a second it feels like nothing's changed. Like she's going to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him softly and ask if he wants to come inside, the mischievous smile on her lips matching the twinkle in her eyes. But that's not going to happen and they both know it.

Allison sighs and takes his hand, giving it a light squeeze. "It's okay," is all she says.

Isaac asks if she's breaking up with him.

/ / /

He finds Scott in his bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed, strumming his guitar with a faraway look in his eyes – then you walk right through the doorway, you tell me you're here to stay. At first he doesn't even notice that he's not alone in the room anymore – and Isaac is tempted to make a joke about how an Alpha should know better than to shut his senses off like that, to make Scott laugh and bring him back from wherever he goes when he loses himself. But then Scott looks up and the smile that spreads across his face when he sees Isaac standing there makes Isaac's brain shut down, as if someone had actually pressed a switch and that's all it took for Isaac to go from normal into hopelessly in love mode.

"She's not your girlfriend," he half states, half asks with a tint of desperation in his voice, the words tumbling past his lips before he has the chance to think them through.

Scott frowns, obviously confused for a second, and Isaac panics because, come on, there's only person he could be talking about, no reason for Scott to look so baffled. Unless there's someone else, someone new, another girl – or boy, whatever – and if that's the case – no. No, the universe can't be that cruel.

It's easy to pinpoint the exact moment when realization dawns on Scott, fond exasperation making his lips curve into a barely suppressed smile before he rolls his eyes and says, "Nope, not my girlfriend."

"So you're single."

Scott quirks an eyebrow. "Yes," he says, his voice slow like honey, "I s'pose not having a girlfriend does indeed imply that I'm single, yeah."

"Well, good. That's – that's good, yeah," Isaac says nodding, and of course he would stutter when he's trying to sound as casual as possible because that's how well he manages to control himself around Scott. He comes to sit next to him, waits until Scott puts his guitar behind them on the bed, then knocks their knees together. "Because, you see, I'm single too. Have been for, like, thirty minutes now," he adds when Scott opens his mouth, his eyes widening, and Isaac can't bite back a grin. He doesn't need words to hear the are you serious on the tip of Scott's tongue, see it in the warm brown of his eyes. "But I plan on changing that. Being single. Like, right now. If that's okay with you."

Scott doesn't answer. He keeps blinking, looking at Isaac with disbelieving eyes that make Isaac's heart clench. This isn't something Isaac would joke about, Scott must know that. It shouldn't be so hard to believe, either. That it doesn't always have to be difficult to achieve happiness. It was Scott who taught him that – maybe it's time to return the favor.

"Scott?"

"No." Scott shakes his head, takes a deep breath through his nose and starts grinning. "I mean yes. I mean – shit. I'm gonna need an explanation, okay? Like, a really long one. You're gonna have to tell me everything, because I honestly don't get it how this – how we – how, Isaac? Allison – "

"Knows. And she's okay with it. Actually, we should probably thank her. That is, if you and me – if we – you know, if – "

Scott cuts him off by pressing their lips together.

It's slow, unhurried, as if they have forever and a day to memorize the taste of each other's lips. And the best part, Isaac realizes, is that they do. It's not just another stolen moment, a secret that weighs heavily on them, a spark of pleasure that fills them with guilt. It's okay now. They're allowed to kiss and touch and love until their hearts feel like they're about to burst with happiness.

"We'll talk about it later, okay?" Scott asks between kisses, and Isaac nods, allowing his fingertips to start writing a story on Scott's body in a language that only the two of them are able to understand.