Expansion
Title: Expansion
Author eavis
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Words: 3391
Characters: pretty much the entire pack plus a cameo by Sheriff Stilinski
Summary: Derek decides to expand the pack. Pretty much an excuse for more pack feels.
They’re sitting around after a pack training session, draining bottles of water and bragging about their respective successes during training, when Derek says, “Do any of you know Isaac Lahey?”
There’s a pause and then Scott asks, “Isaac who?”
“I think he’s in my Spanish II class,” Allison offers, “Tall kid, curly hair?”
“Yeah, he and his dad live across the street from me,” Jackson adds, not pausing his game of trying to pin Scott’s hand to the floor with a clawed finger before the other boy moves it out of the way, “the dad shouts a lot and the kid gets locked out sometimes and he just sits outside the door all night until his dad leaves for work and he can get back in. Freaks,” he mutters, and in the sudden silence that falls at Jackson’s last word Scott’s yelp is loud as Jackson catches him off-guard and pins his hand to the floor.
Erica rolls over from where she’d been lying sprawled on her stomach practicing shifting just one claw at a time, shaking her hair back over her shoulders. “What was that, Jackson?”
“Jackson,” Derek says quietly, and the beta sighs and rolls his eyes but says in a monotone, "'Freak' is not an acceptable term and should never be used in connection with people because it is demeaning and untrue."
Erica smiles smugly and then turns her attention to Derek. "What about Isaac?"
"I wanted to see how you felt about offering him the bite."
Lydia purses her lips. "Do we really need another werewolf? I know a lot of packs are twenty or thirty strong, but there's no rule that says we have to, is there? And frankly, he does sound a little - not that I'm calling anyone a freak - but he might not be entirely stable? Mentally?"
Stiles snorts. Loudly. The rest of the pack looks at him and he says, levering himself on one elbow as he uses the other arm to gesture, "Sorry, but none of us are really what you might call 'stable'. We're all kinda wack-jobs, in one way or another, so I don't think that adding one more is really going to make that much of a difference."
"And it's not all about what he can give us," Scott knocks Jackson's hand away impatiently, "I mean, like Stiles said - none of us are really normal. We all need the pack. Maybe Isaac needs the pack too?"
Derek is looking at Scott with an expression that might almost be approving and says, "I was thinking to drop by while he's at work and make the offer. Maybe take a couple of you with me."
"Um." Boyd is still pretty hesitant about speaking up, especially when Derek's around, but he goes on more strongly when Derek nods an acknowledgement at him, "doesn't he help his dad dig graves?"
Stiles' mouth hangs open for a second. "Derek. You cannot possibly be serious about offering to turn a kid into a werewolf in a graveyard. That is like the plot to the worst B-grade horror movie ever."
"It does seem a little…awkward," Erica agrees.
Derek glances heavenward. "You want me to have him over for cookies and milk after school?"
Scott sighs wistfully. "I could go for some cookies and milk right now."
The rest of the pack collectively eye-rolls. Allison sits up. "I'm not saying bake him cookies or anything, but I do think maybe the creepiness factor should be dialed down a bit? And if what Jackson's saying is true, it kinda sounds like his dad might be abusive."
"Ah." Lydia is nodding like she understands, and Stiles jumps in on seeing the rest of the pack's confused looks, "Most abused kids are never going to admit that they're being abused - especially if it's their dad or mom doing it. It's sick and twisted, but a lot of the time they still love them and don't want them to get in trouble - that or they're scared to death of something even worse happening if they ever tell. If we give Isaac the bite then, assuming his dad is physically as well as verbally abusive, he'll heal fast. And we can probably drop a hint at least to my dad about it. Even though someone should have called it in years ago."
Jackson takes the high road and responds maturely - by sticking his tongue out at Stiles.
"But we'd have to take pictures before he's turned. When - if - the bite takes all the damage will be gone the next morning and we won't have any proof if Isaac decides to press charges." Lydia leans back on her hands, face creased in thought. "If he does want the bite and it works, we'll have to watch him close the first few full moons - he might go after his dad."
"I would, if I were him," Boyd says grimly.
"We wouldn't let him go into the system, though, would we?" Erica's voice is anxious and teeters on the edge of trembling.
Derek doesn't hesitate as he says, "Not if he's pack." He looks around. "Are we all agreed to ask, at least?"
Jackson mutters something mutinously under his breath, but doesn't say anything out loud and Derek nods. "All right, then. Erica and Stiles, I want you with me tomorrow after school. We’ll talk to him then.”
Isaac looks more than a little nervous when the three of them step into his way as he heads for his bike. He glances between them with the cornered look of a frightened rabbit, then with a resigned expression hooks his backpack straps over his bike handles. “Just - don’t mess up my books, please.”
“Dude.” Stiles looks half affronted and half horrified that Isaac assumes they’re there to beat him up. “We just want to talk to you about something - no physical violence involved, I promise.” He glances at Erica and Derek, who are both wearing leather jackets because that’s apparently another thing werewolves do. “Even if they do look like they’re packing and want to rip your face off. Erica, stop smirking.”
She rolls her eyes and arranges her face into a slightly more sympathetic expression that is obviously fake, but a little tension drains from Isaac’s shoulders.
“We really do just want to talk,” Derek says.
Isaac looks at him warily. “About the training thing you mentioned the other day that you think will make me stronger? And joining your…” he eyes Erica and Stiles again before finishing, “gang?”
Stiles throws Derek a ‘I can’t believe that’s how you explained us’ look, and says, “We’re not a gang, exactly. We just - look, can we go to Jo’s or something and Derek will buy us milkshakes and we’ll explain?”
“Stiles, I’m not buying you a milkshake.”
“Favoritist!” Stiles accuses, jabbing a finger at Derek, “You like them more than you like me so you’ll buy Erica and Isaac milkshakes but leave me completely milkshake-less?”
“That sums it up pretty well.” Derek ignores Stiles’ sputterings and turns back to Isaac. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but if you want to learn more then come with us.”
Erica tilts her head to one side as she adds quietly, “Isaac, Derek can give you more power than you ever thought you would have.”
Isaac is still, watching them, for another long moment before he pulls his bike out of the rack, slings his backback over one shoulder and begins to walk, saying, “What exactly are you offering?”
Derek smiles, and it’s less of a serial/lady-killer smile than it would have been three months ago. “Like Erica said. Power. And friends.” He glances wryly at Stiles. “A guarantee you’ll never have to be alone again.” They’re almost out of the parking lot by now.
“How?”
“I’m a werewolf, and I can turn you into one and you can be in my pack. If you want.”
Isaac stares. “You had me going there, for a while. Probably should have gone with something slightly more believable than things from teeny-bop fantasy novels.” He swings a leg over his bike.
“Isaac, he’s serious.” Erica circles around Derek and Stiles and puts a hand on Isaac’s handlebars. “I’m a werewolf too.”
“Whatever crack you guys are on, I don’t want it, okay? I have enough problems without adding drugs to the mix. Now get your hand off my bike.”
“I know it sounds completely loco, but they really are werewolves, okay?”
Isaac looks at Stiles and snorts. “You a ‘werewolf’ too? Or maybe you’re the vampire?”
Stiles looks disgusted. “Are you kidding me? Do I look like some lily-white, wussy psycho? Never mind; don’t answer that. Especially the lily-white part. No, I’m the awesome human sidekick. No wolfy powers here.”
“Show me.” Isaac’s jaw is set and stubborn. “If you really are a werewolf, prove it. Shift, or whatever the hell you call it.”
Derek glances around, but they’re well out of anyone’s sight by now, so he lets his eyes glow alpha red and his face change. Isaac tenses so fast even Stiles can feel how taut his muscles are, but he doesn’t faint or try to run away. “Holy Batman on a crabcake,” he breathes. He looks at Erica. “You too?”
She visibly concentrates, allowing just her eyes to flash and the claws on one hand to elongate.
Of course that’s not the end of it; Isaac has more questions than any of the others did before they were turned, and they go through four or so baskets of curly fries and more than one milkshake (and Derek does pay, even though he threatens to take it back after Stiles’ third helping of fries) before Isaac sits back and says, “Okay.”
“’Okay’ you’re not going to call in an anonymous tip about a bunch of crazies or ‘okay’ you want to join the bunch of crazies.”
“’Okay’ let me think about it overnight and I can let you know at school tomorrow?”
Derek and Stiles exchange glances and then Derek says, “Yeah, that’s fine. I suppose after all this it goes without saying that it would be a very bad idea for you to tell anyone about this.”
Isaac snorts. “Like anyone would believe me. My dad would -“ His mouth closes with an almost audible snap and he slides out of the booth. “Uh, thanks for the milkshake and fries. I’ll - uh, see you tomorrow?” He barely waits for Stiles and Erica’s affirmative nod and “absolutely” before leaving at the fastest walk possible without breaking into a run.
“So.” Stiles takes a pull at the last of Derek’s milkshake, “That went well.”
Isaac ends up coming to the training session that afternoon and spends most of it sticking to Derek’s side like an even more than usually stubborn limpet before Derek finally tells Scott to take him with him on an honest to goodness rabbit hunt. At the end of which Isaac has fallen to Scott’s irresistible puppy charm and the two are laughing together like they’ve known each other for years.
Boyd and Allison are nice to Isaac, and Jackson, under Lydia’s close supervision, is less of a douche than usual, and Stiles bounces around making random references to things half of them have never heard of and teasing Derek and by the time Isaac has to go to work, he’s mostly relaxed. ‘Mostly’ because he seems to have a constant thread of tension in his shoulders and when Scott held out a hand to pull him to his feet after they’d been wrestling, Isaac flinched like he was half expecting a blow. Everyone traded glances but no one commented on it, and it’s not really a surprise to anyone when Isaac shows up at school the next day with a livid bruise on one side of his face (“I walked into a door”) and small cuts all over one hand and arm “I dropped a glass”) and goes straight to Scott and says, “I want the bite.”
Scott inhales once through his nose and his eyes darken, and he nods firmly. “Right after school.”
Before Derek will give him the bite, though, he has Allison take pictures of Isaac’s injuries (“In case you want to prosecute your dad later”) and he tells Isaac, “If this doesn’t work - if the bite doesn’t take for whatever reason, you can still be part of the pack. We’re not going to toss you out.”
Isaac flashes a quick smile, and nods, clenching his jaw, when Derek asks if he’s ready. He doesn’t make a sound, not at the beginning or while Stiles is wrapping his side or when Derek and Scott leach his pain away. They spend the night at Stiles’ house again, and Isaac gets the couch while the rest of them squabble over the best positions on the air mattresses. Isaac tenses even more when he sees the sheriff, but Stiles’ dad only rolls his eyes at the sight of one more person and asks when dinner will be ready. Stiles still is protective-verging-on-psychotic about people helping him in the kitchen, but after much pressure from Derek he reluctantly consents to let Lydia and Boyd help him (“Because they’re pretty much the only two I trust not to bake the salad.” “That was one time, Stiles!” “Don’t make me bring up the fifteen-bean soup incident, Scott!”).
The bite, and the rest of Isaac’s injuries, is gone by morning, and though he handles the physical stimuli better than Erica or Scott did, he falls back on the couch almost immediately, holding his head and letting out a soft cry. Half the pack immediately clusters around him, Derek shoving Boyd and Jackson out of the way to put a hand on Isaac’s shoulder. “Isaac! Look at me - focus on me, come on, tell me what’s wrong.”
Isaac takes one hand from his head to wave them all away, “No - no stop, please, stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop - stop being so concerned, please, stop, I’m fine, okay, all of it’s too much.”
Stiles looks at Derek, eyes wide. “What’s wrong with him?”
Derek’s lips are pressed together hard and he leans forward until his head is touching Isaac’s. “Isaac. Listen to me. You’re feeling the rest of the pack’s emotions. I need you to block them out. Picture a wall with a door in it in your head and shove all the new emotions through it and close the door.”
Isaac is panting, full-on wolfed out, and his hands are twitching spasmodically, but after a couple minutes he shakes Derek off and straightens, his face smoothing to normal aside from the still-glowing eyes.
Scott is whining low in his throat, holding Allison close, and Jackson is curled protectively around Lydia with one hand resting casually on Boyd who is holding hands with Erica and Allison. Stiles is hanging off the back of the couch, arm across Derek’s knee. “Explain,” he says quietly.
Derek doesn’t take his hand from Isaac’s shoulder. “There’s a sort of empathic connection between pack members. It’s the strongest for me since I’m the alpha, but all of you feel it on some level - when one of you is really angry or happy it mirrors on a lower level with everyone else. Apparently the humans can pick up on it too, although not as much as the werewolves can. Isaac is picking up on more emotions than I’ve ever heard of anyone doing - most of you are barely aware of the bond, but as soon as the bite took he was blindsided with them.”
“Can I block it?”
“Not entirely.” Derek glances down at Isaac. “You can dampen it enough that you’ll only feel what the rest of the pack feels - unless you choose to open the door.”
Isaac scrubs his hand through his curls. “So basically I get to be the pack’s touchy-feely sounding board because I’m uber-sensitive to all this crap?”
Derek raises one eyebrow. “Not necessarily. Like I just said, you can control it.”
Jackson, Scott, and Erica’s heads all snap towards the stairs, and Scott says for the humans’ benefit, “Sheriff Stilinski’s awake.”
Derek ducks his head to make eye contact again with Isaac. “Do we need to get you out of here or can you stay calm?”
Isaac draws in a shuddering breath, but after a second he nods. “Yeah. I’m good.”
“Well.” Stiles rolls off the back of the couch and lands (mostly) on his feet. “It’s Saturday morning; you all know what that means.”
Scott’s face brightens. “Pancakes!”
“Give the kid a cigar!” Stiles cheers, but then quickly intercepts Scott’s dash for the kitchen. “Ah ah! You know the rules! No Scotts in the kitchen - not even to set the table. I don’t think my dad could take any more broken dishes.”
Scott rolls his eyes. “I’m sure I can manage to set the table, Stiles. Werewolf powers, remember?”
“They don’t seemed to have helped any of you much with table manners,” Lydia remarks, raising an eyebrow. “In fact, I’m fairly certain they’ve gotten worse.”
cott looks like he wants to roll his eyes again, but settles for huffing loudly and flopping indignantly back down on the couch. “I have awesome table manners and you guys are all mean.”
Allison smiles a ‘I find this funny but I don’t want to hurt your feelings’ smile and bends over to pet his hair. “I think your table manners are fine, Scott; don’t listen to them.”
Scott shamelessly nudges farther under her hand and gives a contented sigh as she laughs and works her fingers through his hair. Jackson rolls his eyes in turn, tossing a disgusted, “Wuss” over his shoulder as he heads for the kitchen. Lydia is the only one that Stiles will let do any actual work in the kitchen, but Jackson started tagging along - not to help, of course - he likes lounging in the kitchen while Stiles works so they can trade insults. Stiles’ insults have been getting pretty inventive, even though Erica suspects that half of them are either from Shakespeare (Stiles actually reads the originals of most of the English assignments instead of the Spark Notes because he’s a nerd) or from old 60’s TV shows.
Erica and Boyd join Scott and Allison on the couch, Erica laying across everyone else with her head in Allison’s lap. “Do me,” she begs.
Allison groans. “What am I, your personal groomer?”
“Pretty much,” Erica agrees cheerfully, stretching luxuriously and winking at Isaac. The newly-turned werewolf is watching them, looking vaguely uncomfortable.
“Erica,” Derek says mildly, and she pouts but turns to conversation with Allison and stops teasing Isaac.
“You might want to grab a shower while everyone else is distracted,” Derek nudges Isaac. “Especially before Jackson takes his hour-long shower that uses all the hot water and then laughs at you when you complain.”
Isaac is still a bit wide-eyed, but he nods at Derek’s suggestion and is almost to the stairs before he pauses and says, “Uh - I didn’t bring any -“
“You can borrow some of my clothes,” Scott interrupts, “there should be some clean stuff in the bathroom closet. Check the bottom shelf - just don’t use anything of Jackson’s ‘cause he gets pissy.”
“Just because I don’t want any of you using my expensive personal effects -“ Jackson calls from the other room, to which Stiles interjects, “Yeah, Scott, after all, if he runs out of his special shampoo what’s gonna keep his hair ‘irresistibly smooth and silky’?”
“My hair is fabulous, and at least it’s better than looking like you - your hair looks like you backed into a lawn mower.”
“You just can’t see the appeal because you’re a dull and muddy-mettled varlet.”
“A what and what?”
Isaac makes his way upstairs, feeling inexplicably comforted by the battery of insults he can still hear going on in the kitchen and the noise of the rest of the pack talking in the living room. Pack. His pack. His family. He remembers hearing once, somewhere, the phrase ‘family don’t end with blood’, and he thinks fiercely to himself, doesn’t end with it; doesn’t begin with it. This is my pack now.
Author eavis
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Words: 3391
Characters: pretty much the entire pack plus a cameo by Sheriff Stilinski
Summary: Derek decides to expand the pack. Pretty much an excuse for more pack feels.
They’re sitting around after a pack training session, draining bottles of water and bragging about their respective successes during training, when Derek says, “Do any of you know Isaac Lahey?”
There’s a pause and then Scott asks, “Isaac who?”
“I think he’s in my Spanish II class,” Allison offers, “Tall kid, curly hair?”
“Yeah, he and his dad live across the street from me,” Jackson adds, not pausing his game of trying to pin Scott’s hand to the floor with a clawed finger before the other boy moves it out of the way, “the dad shouts a lot and the kid gets locked out sometimes and he just sits outside the door all night until his dad leaves for work and he can get back in. Freaks,” he mutters, and in the sudden silence that falls at Jackson’s last word Scott’s yelp is loud as Jackson catches him off-guard and pins his hand to the floor.
Erica rolls over from where she’d been lying sprawled on her stomach practicing shifting just one claw at a time, shaking her hair back over her shoulders. “What was that, Jackson?”
“Jackson,” Derek says quietly, and the beta sighs and rolls his eyes but says in a monotone, "'Freak' is not an acceptable term and should never be used in connection with people because it is demeaning and untrue."
Erica smiles smugly and then turns her attention to Derek. "What about Isaac?"
"I wanted to see how you felt about offering him the bite."
Lydia purses her lips. "Do we really need another werewolf? I know a lot of packs are twenty or thirty strong, but there's no rule that says we have to, is there? And frankly, he does sound a little - not that I'm calling anyone a freak - but he might not be entirely stable? Mentally?"
Stiles snorts. Loudly. The rest of the pack looks at him and he says, levering himself on one elbow as he uses the other arm to gesture, "Sorry, but none of us are really what you might call 'stable'. We're all kinda wack-jobs, in one way or another, so I don't think that adding one more is really going to make that much of a difference."
"And it's not all about what he can give us," Scott knocks Jackson's hand away impatiently, "I mean, like Stiles said - none of us are really normal. We all need the pack. Maybe Isaac needs the pack too?"
Derek is looking at Scott with an expression that might almost be approving and says, "I was thinking to drop by while he's at work and make the offer. Maybe take a couple of you with me."
"Um." Boyd is still pretty hesitant about speaking up, especially when Derek's around, but he goes on more strongly when Derek nods an acknowledgement at him, "doesn't he help his dad dig graves?"
Stiles' mouth hangs open for a second. "Derek. You cannot possibly be serious about offering to turn a kid into a werewolf in a graveyard. That is like the plot to the worst B-grade horror movie ever."
"It does seem a little…awkward," Erica agrees.
Derek glances heavenward. "You want me to have him over for cookies and milk after school?"
Scott sighs wistfully. "I could go for some cookies and milk right now."
The rest of the pack collectively eye-rolls. Allison sits up. "I'm not saying bake him cookies or anything, but I do think maybe the creepiness factor should be dialed down a bit? And if what Jackson's saying is true, it kinda sounds like his dad might be abusive."
"Ah." Lydia is nodding like she understands, and Stiles jumps in on seeing the rest of the pack's confused looks, "Most abused kids are never going to admit that they're being abused - especially if it's their dad or mom doing it. It's sick and twisted, but a lot of the time they still love them and don't want them to get in trouble - that or they're scared to death of something even worse happening if they ever tell. If we give Isaac the bite then, assuming his dad is physically as well as verbally abusive, he'll heal fast. And we can probably drop a hint at least to my dad about it. Even though someone should have called it in years ago."
Jackson takes the high road and responds maturely - by sticking his tongue out at Stiles.
"But we'd have to take pictures before he's turned. When - if - the bite takes all the damage will be gone the next morning and we won't have any proof if Isaac decides to press charges." Lydia leans back on her hands, face creased in thought. "If he does want the bite and it works, we'll have to watch him close the first few full moons - he might go after his dad."
"I would, if I were him," Boyd says grimly.
"We wouldn't let him go into the system, though, would we?" Erica's voice is anxious and teeters on the edge of trembling.
Derek doesn't hesitate as he says, "Not if he's pack." He looks around. "Are we all agreed to ask, at least?"
Jackson mutters something mutinously under his breath, but doesn't say anything out loud and Derek nods. "All right, then. Erica and Stiles, I want you with me tomorrow after school. We’ll talk to him then.”
Isaac looks more than a little nervous when the three of them step into his way as he heads for his bike. He glances between them with the cornered look of a frightened rabbit, then with a resigned expression hooks his backpack straps over his bike handles. “Just - don’t mess up my books, please.”
“Dude.” Stiles looks half affronted and half horrified that Isaac assumes they’re there to beat him up. “We just want to talk to you about something - no physical violence involved, I promise.” He glances at Erica and Derek, who are both wearing leather jackets because that’s apparently another thing werewolves do. “Even if they do look like they’re packing and want to rip your face off. Erica, stop smirking.”
She rolls her eyes and arranges her face into a slightly more sympathetic expression that is obviously fake, but a little tension drains from Isaac’s shoulders.
“We really do just want to talk,” Derek says.
Isaac looks at him warily. “About the training thing you mentioned the other day that you think will make me stronger? And joining your…” he eyes Erica and Stiles again before finishing, “gang?”
Stiles throws Derek a ‘I can’t believe that’s how you explained us’ look, and says, “We’re not a gang, exactly. We just - look, can we go to Jo’s or something and Derek will buy us milkshakes and we’ll explain?”
“Stiles, I’m not buying you a milkshake.”
“Favoritist!” Stiles accuses, jabbing a finger at Derek, “You like them more than you like me so you’ll buy Erica and Isaac milkshakes but leave me completely milkshake-less?”
“That sums it up pretty well.” Derek ignores Stiles’ sputterings and turns back to Isaac. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but if you want to learn more then come with us.”
Erica tilts her head to one side as she adds quietly, “Isaac, Derek can give you more power than you ever thought you would have.”
Isaac is still, watching them, for another long moment before he pulls his bike out of the rack, slings his backback over one shoulder and begins to walk, saying, “What exactly are you offering?”
Derek smiles, and it’s less of a serial/lady-killer smile than it would have been three months ago. “Like Erica said. Power. And friends.” He glances wryly at Stiles. “A guarantee you’ll never have to be alone again.” They’re almost out of the parking lot by now.
“How?”
“I’m a werewolf, and I can turn you into one and you can be in my pack. If you want.”
Isaac stares. “You had me going there, for a while. Probably should have gone with something slightly more believable than things from teeny-bop fantasy novels.” He swings a leg over his bike.
“Isaac, he’s serious.” Erica circles around Derek and Stiles and puts a hand on Isaac’s handlebars. “I’m a werewolf too.”
“Whatever crack you guys are on, I don’t want it, okay? I have enough problems without adding drugs to the mix. Now get your hand off my bike.”
“I know it sounds completely loco, but they really are werewolves, okay?”
Isaac looks at Stiles and snorts. “You a ‘werewolf’ too? Or maybe you’re the vampire?”
Stiles looks disgusted. “Are you kidding me? Do I look like some lily-white, wussy psycho? Never mind; don’t answer that. Especially the lily-white part. No, I’m the awesome human sidekick. No wolfy powers here.”
“Show me.” Isaac’s jaw is set and stubborn. “If you really are a werewolf, prove it. Shift, or whatever the hell you call it.”
Derek glances around, but they’re well out of anyone’s sight by now, so he lets his eyes glow alpha red and his face change. Isaac tenses so fast even Stiles can feel how taut his muscles are, but he doesn’t faint or try to run away. “Holy Batman on a crabcake,” he breathes. He looks at Erica. “You too?”
She visibly concentrates, allowing just her eyes to flash and the claws on one hand to elongate.
Of course that’s not the end of it; Isaac has more questions than any of the others did before they were turned, and they go through four or so baskets of curly fries and more than one milkshake (and Derek does pay, even though he threatens to take it back after Stiles’ third helping of fries) before Isaac sits back and says, “Okay.”
“’Okay’ you’re not going to call in an anonymous tip about a bunch of crazies or ‘okay’ you want to join the bunch of crazies.”
“’Okay’ let me think about it overnight and I can let you know at school tomorrow?”
Derek and Stiles exchange glances and then Derek says, “Yeah, that’s fine. I suppose after all this it goes without saying that it would be a very bad idea for you to tell anyone about this.”
Isaac snorts. “Like anyone would believe me. My dad would -“ His mouth closes with an almost audible snap and he slides out of the booth. “Uh, thanks for the milkshake and fries. I’ll - uh, see you tomorrow?” He barely waits for Stiles and Erica’s affirmative nod and “absolutely” before leaving at the fastest walk possible without breaking into a run.
“So.” Stiles takes a pull at the last of Derek’s milkshake, “That went well.”
Isaac ends up coming to the training session that afternoon and spends most of it sticking to Derek’s side like an even more than usually stubborn limpet before Derek finally tells Scott to take him with him on an honest to goodness rabbit hunt. At the end of which Isaac has fallen to Scott’s irresistible puppy charm and the two are laughing together like they’ve known each other for years.
Boyd and Allison are nice to Isaac, and Jackson, under Lydia’s close supervision, is less of a douche than usual, and Stiles bounces around making random references to things half of them have never heard of and teasing Derek and by the time Isaac has to go to work, he’s mostly relaxed. ‘Mostly’ because he seems to have a constant thread of tension in his shoulders and when Scott held out a hand to pull him to his feet after they’d been wrestling, Isaac flinched like he was half expecting a blow. Everyone traded glances but no one commented on it, and it’s not really a surprise to anyone when Isaac shows up at school the next day with a livid bruise on one side of his face (“I walked into a door”) and small cuts all over one hand and arm “I dropped a glass”) and goes straight to Scott and says, “I want the bite.”
Scott inhales once through his nose and his eyes darken, and he nods firmly. “Right after school.”
Before Derek will give him the bite, though, he has Allison take pictures of Isaac’s injuries (“In case you want to prosecute your dad later”) and he tells Isaac, “If this doesn’t work - if the bite doesn’t take for whatever reason, you can still be part of the pack. We’re not going to toss you out.”
Isaac flashes a quick smile, and nods, clenching his jaw, when Derek asks if he’s ready. He doesn’t make a sound, not at the beginning or while Stiles is wrapping his side or when Derek and Scott leach his pain away. They spend the night at Stiles’ house again, and Isaac gets the couch while the rest of them squabble over the best positions on the air mattresses. Isaac tenses even more when he sees the sheriff, but Stiles’ dad only rolls his eyes at the sight of one more person and asks when dinner will be ready. Stiles still is protective-verging-on-psychotic about people helping him in the kitchen, but after much pressure from Derek he reluctantly consents to let Lydia and Boyd help him (“Because they’re pretty much the only two I trust not to bake the salad.” “That was one time, Stiles!” “Don’t make me bring up the fifteen-bean soup incident, Scott!”).
The bite, and the rest of Isaac’s injuries, is gone by morning, and though he handles the physical stimuli better than Erica or Scott did, he falls back on the couch almost immediately, holding his head and letting out a soft cry. Half the pack immediately clusters around him, Derek shoving Boyd and Jackson out of the way to put a hand on Isaac’s shoulder. “Isaac! Look at me - focus on me, come on, tell me what’s wrong.”
Isaac takes one hand from his head to wave them all away, “No - no stop, please, stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop - stop being so concerned, please, stop, I’m fine, okay, all of it’s too much.”
Stiles looks at Derek, eyes wide. “What’s wrong with him?”
Derek’s lips are pressed together hard and he leans forward until his head is touching Isaac’s. “Isaac. Listen to me. You’re feeling the rest of the pack’s emotions. I need you to block them out. Picture a wall with a door in it in your head and shove all the new emotions through it and close the door.”
Isaac is panting, full-on wolfed out, and his hands are twitching spasmodically, but after a couple minutes he shakes Derek off and straightens, his face smoothing to normal aside from the still-glowing eyes.
Scott is whining low in his throat, holding Allison close, and Jackson is curled protectively around Lydia with one hand resting casually on Boyd who is holding hands with Erica and Allison. Stiles is hanging off the back of the couch, arm across Derek’s knee. “Explain,” he says quietly.
Derek doesn’t take his hand from Isaac’s shoulder. “There’s a sort of empathic connection between pack members. It’s the strongest for me since I’m the alpha, but all of you feel it on some level - when one of you is really angry or happy it mirrors on a lower level with everyone else. Apparently the humans can pick up on it too, although not as much as the werewolves can. Isaac is picking up on more emotions than I’ve ever heard of anyone doing - most of you are barely aware of the bond, but as soon as the bite took he was blindsided with them.”
“Can I block it?”
“Not entirely.” Derek glances down at Isaac. “You can dampen it enough that you’ll only feel what the rest of the pack feels - unless you choose to open the door.”
Isaac scrubs his hand through his curls. “So basically I get to be the pack’s touchy-feely sounding board because I’m uber-sensitive to all this crap?”
Derek raises one eyebrow. “Not necessarily. Like I just said, you can control it.”
Jackson, Scott, and Erica’s heads all snap towards the stairs, and Scott says for the humans’ benefit, “Sheriff Stilinski’s awake.”
Derek ducks his head to make eye contact again with Isaac. “Do we need to get you out of here or can you stay calm?”
Isaac draws in a shuddering breath, but after a second he nods. “Yeah. I’m good.”
“Well.” Stiles rolls off the back of the couch and lands (mostly) on his feet. “It’s Saturday morning; you all know what that means.”
Scott’s face brightens. “Pancakes!”
“Give the kid a cigar!” Stiles cheers, but then quickly intercepts Scott’s dash for the kitchen. “Ah ah! You know the rules! No Scotts in the kitchen - not even to set the table. I don’t think my dad could take any more broken dishes.”
Scott rolls his eyes. “I’m sure I can manage to set the table, Stiles. Werewolf powers, remember?”
“They don’t seemed to have helped any of you much with table manners,” Lydia remarks, raising an eyebrow. “In fact, I’m fairly certain they’ve gotten worse.”
cott looks like he wants to roll his eyes again, but settles for huffing loudly and flopping indignantly back down on the couch. “I have awesome table manners and you guys are all mean.”
Allison smiles a ‘I find this funny but I don’t want to hurt your feelings’ smile and bends over to pet his hair. “I think your table manners are fine, Scott; don’t listen to them.”
Scott shamelessly nudges farther under her hand and gives a contented sigh as she laughs and works her fingers through his hair. Jackson rolls his eyes in turn, tossing a disgusted, “Wuss” over his shoulder as he heads for the kitchen. Lydia is the only one that Stiles will let do any actual work in the kitchen, but Jackson started tagging along - not to help, of course - he likes lounging in the kitchen while Stiles works so they can trade insults. Stiles’ insults have been getting pretty inventive, even though Erica suspects that half of them are either from Shakespeare (Stiles actually reads the originals of most of the English assignments instead of the Spark Notes because he’s a nerd) or from old 60’s TV shows.
Erica and Boyd join Scott and Allison on the couch, Erica laying across everyone else with her head in Allison’s lap. “Do me,” she begs.
Allison groans. “What am I, your personal groomer?”
“Pretty much,” Erica agrees cheerfully, stretching luxuriously and winking at Isaac. The newly-turned werewolf is watching them, looking vaguely uncomfortable.
“Erica,” Derek says mildly, and she pouts but turns to conversation with Allison and stops teasing Isaac.
“You might want to grab a shower while everyone else is distracted,” Derek nudges Isaac. “Especially before Jackson takes his hour-long shower that uses all the hot water and then laughs at you when you complain.”
Isaac is still a bit wide-eyed, but he nods at Derek’s suggestion and is almost to the stairs before he pauses and says, “Uh - I didn’t bring any -“
“You can borrow some of my clothes,” Scott interrupts, “there should be some clean stuff in the bathroom closet. Check the bottom shelf - just don’t use anything of Jackson’s ‘cause he gets pissy.”
“Just because I don’t want any of you using my expensive personal effects -“ Jackson calls from the other room, to which Stiles interjects, “Yeah, Scott, after all, if he runs out of his special shampoo what’s gonna keep his hair ‘irresistibly smooth and silky’?”
“My hair is fabulous, and at least it’s better than looking like you - your hair looks like you backed into a lawn mower.”
“You just can’t see the appeal because you’re a dull and muddy-mettled varlet.”
“A what and what?”
Isaac makes his way upstairs, feeling inexplicably comforted by the battery of insults he can still hear going on in the kitchen and the noise of the rest of the pack talking in the living room. Pack. His pack. His family. He remembers hearing once, somewhere, the phrase ‘family don’t end with blood’, and he thinks fiercely to himself, doesn’t end with it; doesn’t begin with it. This is my pack now.