While being Scott's friend has its advantages, there is a very obvious downside to it: A very loud, 140 pound, sarcastic ball of a downside. Said downside has a name: Stiles
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Unfortunately, Isaac was none too happy about the idea. He was at least 85% sure it was a mistake the moment the words left his mouth (a pathetic fraction of himself generously decided that both of them would end up that and wasn't that a morbid thought? Isaac banished it away and focused on the important thing, that thing being how godawful of an idea it was. Godawful.
He pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow, glass green eyes focused on Stiles in a way that very clearly conveyed, 'I am judging you and you are failing. Horribly.' How was it possible that they shared friends?
Objectively, it wasn't. Isaac knew he liked a number of same things that Stiles does. Star Wars for example. Batman comics. These common interests could have been a topic for discussion if not for how they ran in different social circles. Isaac's circle consisted of me myself and I whereas Stiles had the pleasure of Scott. Maybe Isaac was somewhat envious.
"Don't do anything dumb and you'll be safe," Isaac retorted before something sharp took over his expression. "I'm sure even you can find some common sense in you." And the movie was going to start soon. "You get tickets. I'll get popcorn." Let the real entertainment begin.
Stiles allowed himself a childish moment of mimicry, 'me-me-me-ing' in mock imitation as soon as the other boy turn his back to him.
He sighed deeply and sent a silent prayer up to the heavens that if - no - when tonight ended in bloodshed, his dad would be able to at least identity him by his remains, gouged out heart and all.
Hopefully he'd get a good hit or three in at least.
He'd go down swinging. And yelling. Probably cry at some point too.
Crying might work actually. If this were a fairytale, he'd use his manly tears to his advantage; tears were liquid magic, salty and bitter and always with a happy ending. He'd get his weep on over Isaac, turn the foul beast into prince charming and the two of them would ride off into the sunset together - platonically- and live happily every after - just as friends - and the two of them would spend eternity with each other, playing Halo and ignoring Scott.
What was he doing? Tickets . . . right.
There was no line for tickets, just two old ladies stood to the side, tiny, wrinkled hand pawing through their purses for exact change and tutting non-too quietly at some of the teenage girls. He guy behind the counter gave slow, mocking smirk when he asked for two tickets, no doubt seeing that he was with Isaac, because, yeah, this totally looked like a date didn't? The realisation made him turn an obvious, bright red, which, as these things go in Stiles' life, incriminated him further. HE snatched up his change and tickets as quickly as possible, making his to Isaac at the concession.
Unfortunately, there was a line at the concession stand. But at least Isaac wouldn't have to face the douchebag that was the ticketing master. Yeah, he totally sent Stiles because he wanted to save his own hide. After all, Isaac didn't want to go into the theater with a bloodied knuckle if he decided to punch the guy's mouth through the glass.
Anger issues, everyone has them.
The downside was that Isaac was still in line when Stiles came over. He was the next one to be served, granted but that meant he was to be served with Stiles by his side. Bad, bad. Bad. But at least the girl wasn't the mocking type. She couldn't really spare the time to be.
"What did you do, run a marathon?" Isaac asked as he glanced at the red cheeks of his movie companion. Oh God. He didn't wait for an answer, rolling his eyes and taking a step forward.
"Two large popcorns, two cokes--" Isaac cut himself off, nudging Stiles with an elbow. "Extra butter for you?"
Stiles' reply was to first glare balefully at Isaac. Did he run a fucking marathon? Life was so unfair at times. If this were Scott they'd laugh off the whole sexuality issue, maybe hold hands just to mess about, but with Isaac? Jesus. This was just mortifying. How is the world not swallowing him right now?
He huffs and rubs at his eyes before straightening his over shirt. "Yea, tons, I think I need it." It occurs to him then, that maybe he ought of waited someplace else for Isaac, because yea, this officially looks like a date. But whatever though right? He's a modern guy. Being mistaken for being one half *coughthebatterhalfcouch* of a couple wasn't insult was it? Just a misunderstand, easily smoothed over. He's comfortable enough with himself to accept this fact.
Accept when it's with Isaac and then he totally isn't.
It must be the leather jacket. There's no other explanation.
Maybe it was petty, maybe it was childish but Isaac was Isaac and Stiles was red cheeked and it didn't take a genius to put two plus two together.
The awkward virgin act was going to get old.
But not enough that Isaac didn't use it to embarrass him even more, gaze sliding to the staff before he threw an arm around Stiles, pulling him close none too gently. With a squeeze to his shoulder he grinned, beatifically. "All that grease, babe? Can't be good for you," Isaac murmured before pressing his lips against Stiles temple and turning to the worker. "Extra butter-- how much is that?"
Once he'd paid-- with a bit of maneuvering trying to keep his hand around Stiles-- Isaac grabbed the tray with their two drinks and snagged one of the popcorn bag. "Grab that one will you?" he asked, polite and practically loving as he started guiding them towards their screen.
Still, even though Isaac is being his good old, prickly self, why would he stoop put to putting himself in the line of fire and make everyone think he was dating Stiles of all people. Then again, these days Isaac can get away with pretty much everything because no one's stupid enough to hassle him.
A little belatedly, he realised that he was putting exactly zero amount of resistance against being chaperoned around like a fourteen year old girl on her first date.
And again, he was still making no move to stop this was he? Stiles was just going to let this thing happen and not make one bit fuss wasn't he. He really can't. He should, like, punch Isaac in the shnoze or something. Or bat him with a newspaper and deny treats. Yea, he should do just that.
Or not.
It's just, well, there was just some people in the theatre, a handful really, who were giving the two of them side glances or pointedly not looking. And maybe it felt just the tiniest, inciest bit safer under Isaac's arm. Because, again, who's gonna be stupid enough to hassle Isaac.
He pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow, glass green eyes focused on Stiles in a way that very clearly conveyed, 'I am judging you and you are failing. Horribly.' How was it possible that they shared friends?
Objectively, it wasn't. Isaac knew he liked a number of same things that Stiles does. Star Wars for example. Batman comics. These common interests could have been a topic for discussion if not for how they ran in different social circles. Isaac's circle consisted of me myself and I whereas Stiles had the pleasure of Scott. Maybe Isaac was somewhat envious.
"Don't do anything dumb and you'll be safe," Isaac retorted before something sharp took over his expression. "I'm sure even you can find some common sense in you." And the movie was going to start soon. "You get tickets. I'll get popcorn." Let the real entertainment begin.
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He sighed deeply and sent a silent prayer up to the heavens that if - no - when tonight ended in bloodshed, his dad would be able to at least identity him by his remains, gouged out heart and all.
Hopefully he'd get a good hit or three in at least.
He'd go down swinging. And yelling. Probably cry at some point too.
Crying might work actually. If this were a fairytale, he'd use his manly tears to his advantage; tears were liquid magic, salty and bitter and always with a happy ending. He'd get his weep on over Isaac, turn the foul beast into prince charming and the two of them would ride off into the sunset together - platonically- and live happily every after - just as friends - and the two of them would spend eternity with each other, playing Halo and ignoring Scott.
What was he doing? Tickets . . . right.
There was no line for tickets, just two old ladies stood to the side, tiny, wrinkled hand pawing through their purses for exact change and tutting non-too quietly at some of the teenage girls. He guy behind the counter gave slow, mocking smirk when he asked for two tickets, no doubt seeing that he was with Isaac, because, yeah, this totally looked like a date didn't? The realisation made him turn an obvious, bright red, which, as these things go in Stiles' life, incriminated him further. HE snatched up his change and tickets as quickly as possible, making his to Isaac at the concession.
Reply
Anger issues, everyone has them.
The downside was that Isaac was still in line when Stiles came over. He was the next one to be served, granted but that meant he was to be served with Stiles by his side. Bad, bad. Bad. But at least the girl wasn't the mocking type. She couldn't really spare the time to be.
"What did you do, run a marathon?" Isaac asked as he glanced at the red cheeks of his movie companion. Oh God. He didn't wait for an answer, rolling his eyes and taking a step forward.
"Two large popcorns, two cokes--" Isaac cut himself off, nudging Stiles with an elbow. "Extra butter for you?"
Reply
He huffs and rubs at his eyes before straightening his over shirt. "Yea, tons, I think I need it." It occurs to him then, that maybe he ought of waited someplace else for Isaac, because yea, this officially looks like a date. But whatever though right? He's a modern guy. Being mistaken for being one half *coughthebatterhalfcouch* of a couple wasn't insult was it? Just a misunderstand, easily smoothed over. He's comfortable enough with himself to accept this fact.
Accept when it's with Isaac and then he totally isn't.
It must be the leather jacket. There's no other explanation.
Reply
The awkward virgin act was going to get old.
But not enough that Isaac didn't use it to embarrass him even more, gaze sliding to the staff before he threw an arm around Stiles, pulling him close none too gently. With a squeeze to his shoulder he grinned, beatifically. "All that grease, babe? Can't be good for you," Isaac murmured before pressing his lips against Stiles temple and turning to the worker. "Extra butter-- how much is that?"
Once he'd paid-- with a bit of maneuvering trying to keep his hand around Stiles-- Isaac grabbed the tray with their two drinks and snagged one of the popcorn bag. "Grab that one will you?" he asked, polite and practically loving as he started guiding them towards their screen.
Take that, Stilinski.
Reply
Still, even though Isaac is being his good old, prickly self, why would he stoop put to putting himself in the line of fire and make everyone think he was dating Stiles of all people. Then again, these days Isaac can get away with pretty much everything because no one's stupid enough to hassle him.
A little belatedly, he realised that he was putting exactly zero amount of resistance against being chaperoned around like a fourteen year old girl on her first date.
And again, he was still making no move to stop this was he? Stiles was just going to let this thing happen and not make one bit fuss wasn't he. He really can't. He should, like, punch Isaac in the shnoze or something. Or bat him with a newspaper and deny treats. Yea, he should do just that.
Or not.
It's just, well, there was just some people in the theatre, a handful really, who were giving the two of them side glances or pointedly not looking. And maybe it felt just the tiniest, inciest bit safer under Isaac's arm. Because, again, who's gonna be stupid enough to hassle Isaac.
Reply
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