Sterek Stories - A Collection - I

To be young and in love - part 2

"Hey man!" Isaac is greeted enthusiastically when he slides open the door to the loft.

"Stiles," he acknowledges, dropping his bag next to the door and toeing off his shoes.

"How was work?"

"Okay." Stiles is actually the one who got him the job, as he likes to remind Isaac of when he comes in for a coffee and hopes to get a discount. His packmate means he saw the flyer in the window and pointed it out to Isaac, who then went in to inquire for the job the next day. It's a nice job, with the perk of free coffee when he's on break. "Wasn't too busy."

"There's dinner in the microwave!" Stiles calls after him when Isaac moves into the kitchen. "I made quesadillas."

His stomach grumbles at the thought. "Nice. Thanks."
The place is quiet while Isaac waits for the microwave to heat his dinner. He would've been fine with scraping his own dinner together from what he could find in the fridge, but Stiles is a good cook.
His packmate is lying on the sofa with his laptop perched on his stomach, probably working on the essay they have to write for English Lit. Isaac finished his last night, mainly because Derek bugged him about not waiting until the very last moment to finish it. Looks like Stiles didn't get the same treatment. Or he just didn't listen to what Derek had to say about it, that was also a very real possibility.

Isaac takes his dinner to the table and sits down, placing his phone next to his plate to scroll through his social media apps while eating.
"Where's Derek?" he asks after a few bites. "This tastes good, by the way."

"Oh, thanks," Stiles answers absentmindedly from across the room. "He's out for a run."

"Two or four legs?"

"He changed into those ridiculous short shorts, so I'd say two."

Isaac was there the last time Derek wore those shorts in front of Stiles and although the boy certainly has an opinion on them, it's not that they're ridiculous. Yet that is a can of worms that Isaac doesn't want to open tonight, if ever, so he just grunts in response and turns back to scrolling through Instagram.

***

When Derek offered Isaac a place to stay, he'd hesitated at first. Even more when Derek offered to give him the bedroom upstairs, up the iron wrought staircase. His alpha was persistent, however, and now Isaac is happy he's taken him up on the offer. Because the beta has a small ensuite by his bedroom and there is a full bathroom downstairs, Derek doesn't need to come upstairs. Isaac has his own place there, his own little haven; the rest of the loft he shares with Derek, and other packmates as they come over, but up those stairs is his domain.

Isaac trudges down the stairs, doing up the last buttons of his shirt. He smells coffee, always a good promise in the morning. "Is it ready yet?" he asks Derek, even though he can see for himself that the pot only has a little coffee in it yet.

"Just a few minutes," Derek mumbles, putting bread in the toaster.

Isaac leans against the counter, waiting for the coffee to run through. He could take the bit that is in the pot already, but Derek doesn't like it when he does. His eye falls on the king sized bed on the far side of the loft. The comforter is folded back on Derek's side of the bed, yet there is a human sized bump on the other side.
With how often the pack is over at the loft, the whole place smells of them, that's why Isaac hasn't immediately noticed there is someone else too this morning. "Did Stiles sleep over again?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah," Derek says, distracted. He is taking the bread from the toaster and putting new slices in.

"In your bed?" People sleep over more often, that is one of the reasons they have such a large and comfortable sofa. And that time that Erica slept over because she had a fight with her parents, Derek let her take the bed and he'd taken the sofa himself.

"That's what a bed is for," Derek says. "For sleeping." He takes the toast and divides it over three plates. "Coffee is ready," he instructs Isaac, before leaning a little back to see into the loft and call out: "Stiles! Breakfast!"

"There better be coffee," Stiles answers groggily, his voice muffled by the comforter.

"Get your ass out of bed! You two have school."

A few minutes later Stiles pads into the kitchen, wearing boxer shorts and a T-shirt Isaac thinks he's seen Derek wear once when they were painting his bedroom. "Morning, Lahey," he greets cheerily, making grabby hands at the cup of coffee Derek is holding out for him. "We can take the Jeep to school, if you don't mind taking a small detour by my house. I gotta pick up some clean clothes."

"Why don't you just keep clothes here?" Isaac asks sharply. "You're here all the time anyway. Just get Derek to clear a drawer for you or something."

Stiles laughs and takes a bite of toast. "You say that like Derek even has a chest of drawers. He keeps his clothes in a cardboard box by his bed!" The rest of the toast disappears in Stiles' mouth in two large bites. He turns around to get dressed and pats Derek on the chest in passing. "We should make a trip to IKEA soon, get you a dresser or something."

"I'm not setting foot in that place."

Isaac understands why Derek says that. Large stores like that are a source of constant overstimulation for a werewolf. He knows that's why Derek prefers shopping at the small, family owned supermarket in town instead of the large chain store at the edge of town.

"Fine," Stiles answers, waving a hand over his shoulder in dismissal. "I'll get you one later."

Isaac rides to school with Stiles, waiting patiently in the Jeep while the boy runs inside his own house to change into some fresh clothes. While he sits there the sheriff comes home, presumably from his nightshift. He raises a hand at Isaac and Isaac does the same.

At the end of the week there's two flat cardboard boxes sitting against the wall next to the door. That evening, Derek screws together a chest of drawers.