Chapter Text
Derek Hale officially hates the idea of social interaction. This is in no way a revelation or anything, but instead, a statement he finds himself having to make mentally at least once a week these days. The fact that he has emerged from his broken shell of a home to try and rejoin society in some way, is to blame. Long gone are the days when he could drive two towns over to run his errands. No, his Pack decided it would be best if he did everything within the confines of Beacon Hills so that he will no longer be looked at as the serial killing outsider. (The fact that he hasn't actually killed anything that wasn't hunter or supernatural related doesn't seem to factor into his image at all. Go figure.)
It is for this reason that he finds himself spending a Saturday afternoon at the store in town. This is not a taxing or challenging thing by any means, but it can be a bit annoying. Because people stare. They whisper and stink of confusion, fear, and so much arousal his nose burns with it. They are thrusting their opinions and their bodily responses on him and they don't even realize it. It's beginning to tear into his nerves, putting him on edge and making him jittery.
So, he allows his mind to wander to thoughts of his Pack to help block out some of his sensory reactions.
An Alpha is not always a parent. In some instances, as with his childhood, Pack is Family. But not always. Maybe it is this knowledge of what Pack CAN mean that leads him to consider Isaac his son. His firstborn through the Bite. (The horror show that was the Kanima will never count.) Because of this connection, he often finds himself looking out for the Beta. Any time he catches a hint of his scent or a stray word on the breeze, he is compelled to seek him out and check on him.
It is because of this Alpha instinct that he stumbles across his Beta talking to Stiles, the 'token Pack human' as he is jokingly referred to. There is nothing inherently strange about Isaac and Stiles talking, as they have school, lacrosse, and friends in Common.
There is nothing -common- about this conversation, though.
"S-Stiles?" Isaac nearly whispers the name of the human, voice cracking self deprecatingly as he tries to stare the smaller, shorter teen down. Just a month ago, the werewolf would have been more likely to flash teeth, claws, and eyes at the human than address him so familiarly. It warms the Alpha through and through to know that his Pack is getting along.
"Heya, Pup! What's up?" Stiles allows his handsome features to break out into a bright, beautiful smile that softens him, lightens him from within. He turns from the buggy he has been pushing, leaning against it sideways so that he can place his attention on Isaac without fully crowding him. Which again, warms the Alpha. Because Stiles knows. He understands. Isaac is damaged and just now managing to escape the powerful high of the Bite, and sometimes, it is best to give him your attention without facing him head on. It displays trust but it also gives a sense of privacy.
"I, uh .. I was hoping we could talk?" The werewolf shifts his weight from foot to foot, the dull, busted red basket hanging from his hand clacking gently against his knees as he tries to find some way to be comfortable in his own skin. Hmm, he'll have to talk to his beta about this, soon. He honestly thought Isaac had finally found a measure of confidence in himself.
"Oh, of course, dude." Stiles beams at him, nodding toward the display case of fresh vegetables. Isaac falls into step beside him as if it's the most natural thing ever, and maybe it is. They are, after all, packmates. They seem to have found a modicum of comfort with one another and his inner wolf is practically howling in joy. Because they are his two favorites. Sure, he's not -supposed- to have favorites, but he does. As stated, he considers Isaac his son in some regards, so of course he's his favorite of the wolves. And Stiles ... well, Stiles is Stiles and that's all that need be said about that.
"So, what can I do for you, my man?" Stiles throws the words across his shoulder, grinning at the werewolf before he turns his attention to the vegetable display.
"I, uh .. well, I was thinking .. you haven't seen the newest marvel movie, have you?" The poor wolf's voice rises almost half an octave on the words thinking, marvel and you, causing a cracked tone to his words that would have practically begged for some of Stiles' patented snark only a month ago. Instead, the human points out a produce bag dispenser over Isaac's shoulder as he shakes his head.
"Nope, I totally haven't. I thought about asking every one, but I wasn't sure who would really want to go, you know?" The human wrinkles his nose while the wolf nearly drops the basket at his feet in his haste to help his friend. Once he has managed to set the thing down carefully, he whirls on his heels and almost lunges at the dispenser, yanking one of the long, thin produce bags out. He rushes back to Stiles, blowing into the bag to inflate it so that they can slip the vegetables inside. "Thanks, Pup!"
Isaac goes beet red from the thanks, shifting uneasily on his feet before he practically shoves the filled bag into Stiles hands. Okay, yes, he definitely needs to talk to his beta. See if he can help tackle some of these nervous habits and self esteem issues.
"Really? You couldn't get Scott to go with you? And Erica really likes superheroes, too, and I think even Boyd will watch the movies." Stiles eyes widen at this information and it honestly looks as if Isaac has managed to hand him the best early Christmas present possible. It actually makes Derek grin, though he quickly looks around to make sure that no one is there to see it. At least, no one he knows.
"Oh wow, I didn't even -think- about Erica or Boyd! Scott, uhm .. he's busy with Allison, you know? Trying to get every thing back on track with her, so he, uh .. he doesn't really have time for me. Right now. It's cool." Both werewolves wrinkle their noses at the sudden assault of bitter lemon and sage sadness wafting off the human, but Isaac has the good grace not to mention the fact that he can smell just how not cool it is. Instead, he reaches an awkward hand out. Gently slides it up, over the curve of Stiles' shoulder and squeezes ever so gently. Derek is a little surprised to see Stiles reaching up to place his hand over that of the other teen for a brief moment before pulling away. "So, it's settled then! I will totally text everyone and see who wants to go. We can all hit it up tomorrow evening."
Isaac's eyes widen into large, confused puppy dog proportions when Stiles makes plans .. for the entire Pack .. to see the movie. Derek actually winces when he can smell the sour salt confusion and sage sadness of the werewolf. It takes a few seconds, but he understands. Isaac ... Isaac had been trying to ask Stiles -out-! On a date, not a pack gathering. He flinches deeper this time, shaking his head in sympathy.
"I, uh .. that wasn't .. uh yeah, yeah .. sure. Sounds fun, Stiles. I'll, uhm .. I'll see you later, okay?" The poor teen wolf is blushing nearly to the roots of his hair, but Stiles isn't watching him. He's gathered another collection of produce and is forcing it clumsily into a produce bag.
"Alright, Isaac. I'll text you with the plans later. Have a good day, Pup!" Isaac whimpers a single time before he practically runs to a different section of the store. The Alpha -wants- to be angry. Wants to feel some small spark of paternal outrage on behalf of his pseudo-son, but he can't. Because Stiles wasn't rude, mean, condescending or anything else really negative toward Isaac. He had simply been .. oblivious.
With a soft sigh, the Alpha turns and heads toward the check out counter to finish up his bit of shopping.