It starts with an accidental brush—Isaac's fingers skimming over the skin on back of Scott's hand when he's passing him a pair of tweezers as they work together to remove the thorns from Mr Snuddle's hind paw; a shock of electricity that makes Isaac apologize and Scott blush and drop the tweezers.
Then it's powerful blows—exchanging punches and shoves, tussling in the tall brown grass in the clearing behind the Hale house during training as Derek and the rest of the pack watch on, cheering and cat calling, the adrenaline pulsing through their veins palpable and musky smelling in the air; making their eyes flash gold and their growls turn into snarls and throaty laughs.
After that it's purposeful touches—playful prods to the side when they refill the water bottles for the dogs in the clinic; friendly pats on the back before a lacrosse game; cheeky shoulder taps as Isaac teases Scott for blanking out and getting told off by Dr Deaton for not paying attention—friendly gestures that make Isaac feel safe and make Scott want to laugh.
But then it's slow careful pressure—Scott's hands carefully touching the scarred skin that never really heals on the skin of Isaac's forearms when he unconsciously rolls up his sleeves to wash his hands after they're done cleaning the mess they've somehow made when feeding the parrot with the broken wing; soft steady pressure which makes Isaac's breath catch and Scott's pupils dilate and suddenly—
It's a cautious press of lips against lips and the gentle flutter of Isaac's impossibly long eyelashes on Scott's cheek. It's a gentle sort of warmth that spreads from the pit of Scott's stomach and run all the way down his toes and his fingertips as he traces the criss-crossing patterns on Isaac's arms and the soft skin in the crevice of his collarbones. It's a hurried intake of breath as Isaac's eyes flash gold and he bites down on Scott's bottom lip and rakes his fingers down the length of Scott's neck. It's a skipped heartbeat as Scott sighs Isaac's name and he digs his fingers into the grey material of Isaac's shirt. It's how Isaac tastes how a warm blanket smells and how his hair is soft in Scott's hands, and how Scott leans his face into Isaac's neck and worries the skin with small nips and hard kisses. It's in the smile they share when they pull apart and remember they're at work and Scott suggests they get ice cream later and Isaac nods eagerly, like a puppy eager to please.
It just happens.
And to be perfectly honest, they don't really know how or why it does—but they don't really care.
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