(no subject)

[packpapa]

Summer is truly starting to set in as the sun rises slowly in the blue, cloudless sky, and the birds outside are chirping merrily. But with the large window covering most of the wall in the main living space and the sunlight above, Derek stirs with a groan, burying his face further into the warm pillow and the covers surrounding him to shield his sensitive eyes.

He feels a little groggy as he starts to pull himself out from the depths of sleep, not that far from what it feels like after experiencing wolfsbane in his system, and, what he can only assume, it feels like to have a hangover.

It doesn't take long for him to fully come to his senses and when he does he jolts up with a start. Brigid. He looks to his right where she's still lying beside him, but thankfully he doesn't appear to have disturbed her. She looks peaceful in slumber, he thinks, unable to remove his eyes from her sleeping form, and he reaches out without thinking about it, carefully brushing the wild strands of red hair away from her face. He finds himself smiling, almost as if nothing's changed and they're still teenagers without a care in the world, but the weight of the darkness around his heart doesn't let him forget for long.

He's glad she's here, he realises, even though he still can't let himself believe it's going to last; he wants to, but he can't. The second he starts to let himself hope, he knows everything can only go downhill from there, it always does. But maybe if she sticks around long enough, if she manages to settle without bolting as soon as she discovers every single sordid detail, and he knows she's going to have to meet the others at some point.

Derek carefully manoeuvres himself into a sitting position, back against the head of the bed and covers hanging over his clothed lap. He didn't plan to sleep through the entire night and half of the morning as well, but he needed it, and he knows that Brigid did as well. And he can already feel a lot of the weariness gone from the solid night of sleep. He catches the fresh scent of Isaac, but he can't hear his heartbeat from within the loft, so he knows he must have been and gone, always trying to stay out of his way to make sure he's not a nuisance. He doesn't mind having him around, though, and it's not as if either of them have anyone else, but he can't help feeling relief that he can hold off on introductions a while longer until he can catch her up with the recent going-ons.

He doesn't know how long he sits there, watching as the sun fully rises in the sky and glancing down to the woman beside him, a woman he never thought he would get to meet and the memories of the girl she used to be faded from the hard years that followed. He's an alpha, yes, but he knows he's far from perfect, that he wasn't born to the role, and that he's going to make a lot more mistakes before he finds his feet. And he's still got a long way to go before he can be anything to anyone beyond that, but if she's at his side then he thinks he can learn to try that much harder to discover who he was supposed to be before he got thrown off course.

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[bostonhowler]

Brigid hates this dream. Hates it.

She's warm and the sound of a steady heartbeat is in her ear. She can smell someone else in the bed with her and knows they're there because they want to be and she wants them to be. But Brigid knows it's just a dream. She'll wake up, in Boston, her back against the wall, her arms desperately clinging to one of her pillows.

The house will be silent, and her alarm will be just about to go off, telling her to be responsible and head into her job.

Brigid knows this routine. It happens more often than not, anymore. And she just doesn't want to walk around with the aching feeling in her chest for yet another day and pretend that everything is okay.

She wants it to be real, wants it to not be a dream just for once. Brigid just wants to wake up and not be alone any more.

Light hits her eyelids and she groans, burying her face into her pillow. Light is bad and she hates it. Yawning into the pillow, she tries to remember what she has to do today.

But the pillow doesn't smell like her. It doesn't smell like her shampoo, her laundry soap. The air doesn't have the light herbal overtones of her house. There isn't the honking of cars or hiss of hydralics from the buses that trundle along the streets of Boston.

Heartbeat. Not hers, someone else's. She can hear it, feel the warmth of their body next to her. Cracking open an eye, she looks up at Derek. It hadn't been a dream, then. She'd found him. She'd made it to him after years of mourning the loss of him and his pack and the future she'd dreamed of having.

The dream isn't a dream. Not this morning. Scooting over she rests her head on his lap, shoving hair out of her face. She half-closes her eyes and just lies there for a moment, reveling in the knowledge that he's really here, and it wasn't a dream.

"Morning." She finally mumbles around a yawn.

[packpapa]

Derek can tell the second she starts to rouse that she's no longer asleep, slowly waking to the world, and he can hear the distress from her heartbeat, but it seems to ease off the closer she comes to wakefulness.

He can feel the tug of muscles in his face, ones he's not used enough for a long time, and there's a small but sincere smile firmly in place.

"Morning." He helps her brush back her hair, his touches so soft and gentle, so full of care that the few who know him now would probably struggle to believe he's capable of such tenderness. She looks better, he realises, the dark circles beneath her eyes still there, but not quite as prominent. He doesn't bother to ask if she slept well, it seems obvious enough not to. "Do you want breakfast?"

[bostonhowler]

She rubs her cheek against his leg. This is better than the dream ever is. She always dreamed of this back when they had talked and written and she'd come to know through his words and their long talks.

Food, at least the mention of it, wakes her up a bit more.

"Food... might be a good idea." She yawns against his leg, draping her arm over his knee. "Do I have to move?" Because she hardly ever gets to lie in. Most of the time she's up and moving with the dawn. The drive had taken more out of her than she'd realized. Or maybe it had just been sleeping with someone else that makes her lazy.

She doesn't really care which. Staying here with him is more than she had hoped for. The dream had been broken and now she wants to reforge it into something stronger.

Something occurs to her. "Did I dream a floppy haired guy or did that happen?" She has a vague recollection of seeing a guy with floppy, curly hair but not much else.

[packpapa]

"You don't have to move." His expression transforms into something close to playful, but she will need to let him at some point if he's ever going to reach the kitchen. She looks far too comfortable, though, and instead of paralysing him with fear, he finds that he actually likes it, likes that she's in his bed, even if it is innocent, and that her unfamiliar scent is starting to mingle with his own from himself and the sheets.

"You didn't dream it." But he doesn't remember him coming in, which worries him a little, because even when he is sleeping, he's never out deep enough not to at least be aware of him sneaking in late. "That's Isaac. He's part of my pack." Our pack. It's going to take him a little time to adjust.

"How do you take your coffee?"

[bostonhowler]

She glances up at him and rolls onto her back so she can see him fully. "Good. You're comfortable." Very comfortable. She could get used to this, though she probably shouldn't, since she isn't sure what's going to be happening. But, Brigid will stay as long as he lets her, and as long as he's comfortable with it.

Her forehead crinkles for a moment. "Okay. I thought I dreamed it." So weird. She's not even sure what she saw, except she'd rolled over and snuggled back into Derek, going right back to sleep. Brigid covers a yawn and forces herself to sit up.

Her curly hair flops in her face and she pushes it back behind her ear, irritated. It's always wilder in the morning, especially if she doesn't let it dry before going to sleep. He mentions coffee and she pulls a face. Coffee is not her favorite. She's a soda drinker, sure, but after the last week or so, she should probably stick to tea and juice. Otherwise, she'll start sleeping like she had last night. Not a bad idea, but not the best one she's ever had.

"I have tea in my duffel. I'll make it. You have the fixings for pancakes? I can throw those together for us." She leans her head on his shoulder, slipping her hand into his again. Physical contact is such a big deal for wolves and she has a feeling that Derek has forgotten that.

[packpapa]

If she considers a tall blond teenager with curly hair disturbing her as she sleeps a dream, then he considers it a nightmare; he doesn't doubt that there will be an awkward conversation there late if he doesn't get the first word in.

He raises a teasing eyebrow as she asks about breakfast, amusement clearly there, if not fond. "I thought you didn't want to move." And with the wide yawns she keeps emitting, he doesn't blame her for not wanting to, but they have all day, he supposes, so it's not as if they can laze around.

"Unless Isaac's raided the fridge again, then there should be." It's not necessarily an afterthought, but there is a pause before he adds, "But you don't have to cook."

He's not the best cook in the world, he knows that, and it's been a while since he's lived in a real home with a proper kitchen, so he's settled for throwing basic things together. But he knows enough to get by without giving himself food poisoning, which is more than he could ever say for Laura.

It still takes him back, the contact he's lacked for a long time, and even with Isaac, although it's been there to reassure him, it's rarely been more than a hand to the shoulder. Erica liked to cross boundaries on occasion, but he tries not to think about it; it's been weeks, now, and still no sign that either her or Boyd made it out of town in one piece.

Looking at their hands, he runs his thumb over the back of hers as it first nicely with him. "It's been a while," he starts, realising how it sounds after the words are out, but hoping she understands all the same. "I haven't trusted anyone to get close in a long time." And the pack he's created is made up of teenagers, which is safe as far as he's concerned, it never posed a threat of broaching dangerous territory.

[bostonhowler]

She looks down at their hands, his thumb rubbing over the back of hers and closes her eyes again. This, this is what she needs and what she's been lacking in forever. Brigid has been holding herself back from the pack, especially after she learned about her Da, the thought of going Omega teasing at her for a long, long time. Derek had been the perfect catalyst for her.

"I like to cook. It's been a long time since I've had anyone else to cook for." With it being just her, she'd cook a lot on the weekend and then freeze everything for the week so should could grab what she felt like. It made her life simpler, but also reinforced the idea of how alone she'd been.

Brigid squeezes his hand, knowing what he's saying. "I can't imagine what you've been through, Derek. I won't try. But, as I said before, you're not getting rid of me now." She looks up at him. "I'm here and not going anywhere."

... Then her stomach growls.

"Except to the kitchen. Come on, I'll feed both of us and we can decide what to do from there." She finally climbs out of the bed and then tugs on his hand. "I'll stay here, or get my own place, whatever you want. But after food."

Brigid loves her food. She'd learned to cook out of self-defense of the food budget. Between two werewolves in the house, they'd needed a cook.

[packpapa]

Taking the cue, Derek shifts aside the covers still hanging loosely over him and pushes himself up out of the bed, following her lead through the apartment and to the kitchen.

He may have explained a little the previous day, but there are a lot of questions he wants to ask, that he feels he should ask, even if she doesn't want to talk about them. There are things she needs to know, of course, but if she's staying then he needs to know what she's leaving behind. Or, as the case may be, what she's left behind and if he's worth it.

The kitchen isn't much, but it's functional, hidden away off the main space of the loft. He opens the fridge door and sifts through the contents, finding eggs and milk and grabbing some flour from a cupboard that he puts down on the side for her along with a bowl. And then he starts working on the coffee.

"What about your pack?" She doesn't have to answer if she doesn't want to, if she's not ready to delve into it, and he won't push it if she's not. But he remembers the tales of her alpha, so far from what his mother was that he could never warm to him, and although he doesn't directly ask, he's noticed she's not brought up her father once.

[bostonhowler]

Brigid sighs and starts rummaging around. Why? Because she can, and she needs to think about what she's going to say. She doesn't want to add to his burdens, but, there are some things he needs to know.

"Markus killed Da." It's bald and open, but doesn't carry nearly the pain it used to. She's gotten away from the bastard and that's taken half of her grief away. "A year after the fire, Markus..." She takes a deep breath and stirs the batter, setting the pan to warm. "Remember my complaints about that woman Da was seeing?" The woman used way too much perfume, and didn't want to curb anything for the better good of the family and didn't care about Brigid. Not really, anyway.

"Anyway, she ended up pregnant. Da had asked before about telling her everything, but Markus had said no." She's watching the pancake cook, not able to look at him. "When she got pregnant, Da asked again, because now it's a bit more important. Markus said he'd think about it. She was four months along and interviewing pediatricians. I'm not sure what happened, but twelve hours after visiting the Emissary, she lost the baby. Da said there was a chemical in her bloodwork that only the Emissary could have given her." Flip goes the pancake. "Da challenged Markus while I was at school. Markus killed him for it."

She takes a deep breath and looks at Derek. "I've been considering going Omega for more than a year. I'm part of your pack, Derek. I will not go back there." She will go Omega again before that happens.

[packpapa]

If it were anyone else rummaging, Derek would predictably take charge of the situation and fish out whatever they were looking for with an air of impatience. But he keeps to the side, hip resting against the counter and arms folded as he watches her do her thing.

He keeps quiet while she talks, but frown takes hold and etches itself firmly into his forehead, eyebrows knitting tighter together. He always liked her father, and it changes things to know that she's been without him for almost as long as he's been without his family; she might have only lost one member, but he was all she really had.

Everything that she tells him, though, it changes things, not necessarily between them, but how he looks at it. She could do worse than stay here in Beacon Hills with him, his broken pack and creepy uncle, and the little gang of teenagers who occasionally stop by and help save the town.

"I don't want you to go back." He makes it clear, that she's welcome to stay, that he's not going to turn away; he knows his mother never would, and now he knows what she would be going back to - no, he's not going to object to her staying. "I always thought of you as pack when we were you. That never changed." Because he never forgot about her, but he's surprised word never travelled to him about her dad. He doesn't apologise, though, he remembers the offering of empty words well from when he lost his family, but they meant nothing to him, they couldn't bring back his family, they couldn't change what had happened. But he's sad to hear the news. "If I'd known, I would have sent the letters. I would have offered you another option."

[bostonhowler]

It isn't a well-known fact about what happened. She only knows because her Da had left her a letter - a letter Markus knows nothing about, and she's keeping as insurance. With it are tests results, timelines, everything. Her Da was a damned good cop.

The book is also insurance against Markus. If he makes a peep about her leaving, or has the audacity to follow her, she'll make sure that every single Emissary and Alpha knows about the book and she'll offer them translations as well as copies.

She doesn't play fair, but she's learned how not to.

Brigid smiles, pulling the pancakes off the stove, and putting on more. "That means a lot, Derek. Thank you." She whispers. Because she knows that he and Laura would have taken her in. "It's over and done now. And staying in Boston had certain advantages. I went to college while still in high school, spent two years in Ireland, and already have my PhD. And a plan to go back to school again."

[packpapa]

He merely nods in response to her gratitude, not really one for knowing how to take positive comments all that well, but he means it, enough for him to actually have said it.

So many things are over and done with, things that can't be changed no matter how much they might want them to be, but it appears that she's done a much better job of letting go and moving on because of it than he has.

"It sounds like you've done all right for yourself." He barely made it out of high school never mind going on to college, but he's picked up enough skills over the years that if money ever becomes an issue he can find work somewhere that doesn't require a degree. "Maybe here you can find a home."

[bostonhowler]

"I managed. Carlos, my one friend, still calls me disgustingly perfect." She should call him and tell him she's on the right coast to actually see him for a change, instead of horrible Skype conversations that are over too quickly.

Brigid looks up at him and smiles. "I am home." At least she feels like it. Sure, she'd expected Laura to be the Alpha, but it doesn't bother her in the least to have Derek filling that role. She likes just being with him, and if the sleep last night is anything to go by, he likes having her here too.

Two stacks of pancakes have made a magical appearance on plates. "Here. You should eat too. Then we'll figure out what to do. I need to clean out my car, get my license changed over, get mail forwarded." She waves her fork. "And you can fill me in on the stuff I need to know here. Do you still have the same Emissary?"

[packpapa]

"No one's perfect." It's said in jest, a twitch of his lips in a fleeting smile. "But I guess I'll have time to find out if he's right."

Opening a drawer, he takes out two sets of cutlery, finishes pouring himself a mug of black, steaming coffee, and makes quick work of getting her a cup of the tea ready, making a face at it as he does.

He looks up from where he's trying to grab everything at once to take over to the table and frowns. Does he really have an emissary? If he's to be believed, Deaton claims to have retired, presumably after the death of his mother and former alpha, and he tends to help him as an extension of Scott rather than directly, which might possibly have something to do with the fact he tied him up and accused him of being the alpha before he knew it was Peter.

"Yes, and no." Because he can't answer everything with 'it's complicated', but how does he even begin to explain the mess he's weaved himself into the middle of? "He's still in town. I've had run-ins with him. But he's not actually my emissary."

[bostonhowler]

Her call to Carlos had resulted in his arrival only a few hours later. She's pretty sure that he and Kevin had broken more than a few laws to get here as fast as they did.

She walks with him, away from Derek and Isaac - who still looks a little shocked about how quickly this had all happened - and then stops when he leans against his car. "You have something to say." She knows Carlos, knows he does.

"Chica, he's the boy you used to talk about. The one that was supposed to have died and he suddenly alive and you just throw everything away to come out here." He drops his arm around her when she leans against the car next to him. "Are you sure?"

"A church wedding, Carlos." Brigid reminds her friend. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life. I love Derek. Still. I can't explain it, but he's.... Soulmate sounds so cheesy."

Carlos chuckles softly. "The Church wedding; I sent pictures to Mama. It's too late to back out of it now. What are you going to do when all those pretty Boston Irish boys show up in protest?" He shakes his head. "There's going to be a memorial parade in Boston..." He snickers when her hip bumps into him.

She's more worried than she lets on about people from Boston showing up. It's a possibility. But she's married now. And she's married in the eyes of the Church, which they will respect. She just... Her cheeks flush and she looks at her sandaled feet. Right, that whole consummation thing.

"You know, if he hurts you, that very pretty Camaro of his will end up in the Pacific." Carlos says it with a smile on his face and loud enough that Brigid knows Derek can hear. She huffs out a sigh.

Kevin chuckles. "Keep her safe, huh?" He says to Derek. "I've only met her uncle a couple of times, but he sets my nerves on edge. Wouldn't surprise me if he came out here and try to get her back to Boston."

[packpapa]

Derek and Isaac stand there in front of the open doorway, sizing the new arrivals up, and then share a look between them.

Neither Carlos or Kevin are quite what he pictured, but at the same time they are exactly what he expected. Still, he doesn't know how he feels about having them here so soon, and the urge to protect his territory is strong, even though he hopes Brigid - and, by extension, the pack - can make allies of them.

He stands there, waiting, and watches from the safe distance, not quite daring to move as he gives them space to get reacquainted.

It's not until Carlos mentions the idea of him hurting her that he finds himself biting back a growl, but Kevin doesn't help; he offers a stiff nod of confirmation when he advises him to keep her safe, because he will, but the threat - or the idea of a potential threat, anyway - is what finally has him releasing a low, warning growl.

"Unless she wants to go, she's not going anywhere."

[bostonhowler]

"Stop it." She nudges Carlos, but her eyes find Derek. Carlos won't do anything and he is a friend, even if he's a friend that has a very big mouth. She wants to go over and reassure Derek that everything is okay, but she really has to get rid of Carlos, first. He has a bad habit of rubbing people the wrong way - not everyone's known him since fifth grade, after all.

"Ah, chica. You married. What else am I supposed to do?" Carlos asks, shaking his head.

"Take your boyfriend home?" Brigid asks, wide eyed innocence personified.

"Really? Kevin and I thought we'd stay up here and get to know -"

"Kevin! Come get your man." Brigid calls, shoving away from Carlos with rolled eyes. Honestly, he's her best (only) friend, but he knows better.

Kevin snorts. "Congratulations, Derek. You're a lucky man. But I'd better go rescue Carlos, before she does something drastic to him." He shakes his head, smiling to himself. "Carlos, what did I tell you about needling the bride?"

"To let you help?" Carlos yelps as Kevin just picks him up and throws him over a shoulder. Carlos isn't that big, and, well, Kevin's a blacksmith and it shows. "Chica! You better call me! Kevin, what did I tell you about manhandling me?"

"Not to do it in public?" Kevin asks as he stuffs Carlos into the truck they drove up. "Was nice meetin' you guys."

Brigid shakes her head and walks over to stand next to Derek as they pull away. "Sorry about Carlos. He's... him." She wrinkles her nose. There's really no other explanation. "He's known me since I was eleven and he tried to put a beetle in my hair."

"A beetle?" Isaac asks, looking vaguely discomfited.

Brigid shrugs. "I told him that a spider would do better, but then he'd get bit and it still wouldn't bother me. I was proved right." Her fingers brush against Derek's hand, offering a bit of reassurance. Carlos is intense even for people that have known him for years.

[packpapa]

Derek might be looking at Kevin, but he keeps an ear on the other conversation taking place; he hates the thought of being possessive, especially over another being, but the wolf part of him is over-protective, fears losing someone else he loves. He knows he'll have to get a handle on it sooner rather than later, but it's the fact Carlos knows aside of her life that he doesn't that's setting him on edge, even though he knows how absurd it is; he knew her when she was younger, knew her in ways no one else did, so he's got no need to be jealous.

He merely nods as Kevin does as he's told, Derek remaining where he is and watching on from a distance, expression unreadable; it's not exactly unfriendly, but it's not friendly, either - he's got other things on his mind right now, anyway.

As he watches them, though, he does wonder if one day he'll be able to be as openly affectionate as the two of them clearly are.

He doesn't need encouragement, he thinks, but doesn't say, and realises he feels a lot lighter, less tense, now that the three of them are alone once more.

"He couldn't have pulled on your pigtails like everyone else?" he mutters, more to himself than anything, eyes rolling slightly as he feels the brush of her hand and slides his fingers to entwine with hers. "If Stiles can grow on me, he might, too, eventually."

[bostonhowler]

"Pulling my pigtails would have gotten him in trouble with his mother. She's almost as scary as your mother was." She gently squeezes Derek's hand. Brigid likes that he's quietly affectionate with her.

Carlos fills a very important spot in her life. He's the friend that drags her out, when she is stuck too far into her books, or in her own head. He's the one that makes her laugh with ridiculousness. He's also the one that makes her envy his gentle easiness with Kevin, despite their loud displays.

But, Brigid knows that Carlos rubs people the wrong way. She understands that the history they share isn't one that Derek does. Though, it should have been. Carlos had been the first to find out about the fire, outside of the pack. He'd been the one that her Da had called for help, to keep her from pining to death.

"He won't be up very often. No matter what he says. His degree is a lot more challenging and hands on than mine was." She shrugs.

"He's getting a degree?" Isaac scoffs.

"PhD in... engineering of some kind. I don't understand it. There's a lot of math, and occasionally explosions." There have been times she's wanted to call him to help her with something, but those calls would require long explanations that she's not sure he'll ever forgive her for.

Brigid bumps Derek with her hand, an impish smile on her face. "And he grows on people. You know, like a fungus."

[packpapa]

He doesn't comment on the topic of his mother, though the look on his face no doubt says all that needs to be said - I find that hard to believe, he thinks - but even a passing mention of his mother brings back too painful of memories to want to delve into it.

He does intend to comment to the latter, though, before Isaac gets there first, and he finds himself smirking at the way she attempts to explain whatever it is that he's doing; he doesn't look upon her as if she's dense for not knowing, but admires her attempting to try to put it out there. And he finds it oddly endearing.

"I'm sure there's a cream for that," he offers, but it's light, a little playful; he's not sure he believes her, but he'll take her word on it, for now. "It's Keven that I feel sorry for."

[bostonhowler]

Brigid can’t help but laugh. “I think I said the same thing to him the second time I met him.” She grins. “I apologized for Carlos. He said Senora Montoya already said the same thing.” Brigid shrugs. “But he’s still been my best friend for years. If his mother can’t be here, he had to at least. Or they’d never let me forget it.”

She leans her head against Derek’s shoulder, glad for the closeness. Brigid’s always been quietly tactile with people, and while she hasn’t really had that the last few years, It’s nice to be able to take advantage of it again.

Hopefully, Isaac won’t find it too uncomfortable.

“Should I put dinner together?” She asks, looking between the two.

[packpapa]

"One of us should have family here. Or the closest thing to it." He smiles, now, stepping up further into her space and putting his hands on her shoulders, leaning in to kiss her forehead before stepping away again. "I'm sure I'll learn to live with it. Somehow." Stiles, unbelievably, came to grow on him, so why not Carlos.

He seems suddenly recovered from the whole meeting, perking up, and Isaac, not surprisingly, looks incredibly interested.

"I'll help," Isaac offers, flashing one of his puppy smiles, and eagerly rushing off ahead of them, heading back up to the loft.

Derek watches Isaac go and rolls his eyes. "I'll have to remember to use that whenever I want to get rid of him for a while."

[bostonhowler]

She leans toward him for the kiss, almost disappointed when he's not there any more.

Brigid feels as if her smile will become permanent. There are things that she missed, distancing herself from Markus and the others these past few months and weeks. "Well, it's not going to be anything fancy. Just chicken potpie. Tomorrow, I'll make the beans for enchiladas and make Senora Montoya's salsa."

To her, it's no big deal. She used to cook like this all the time. Now, there are people who need her to cook.

However.

she does hope for some alone time with Derek tonight. They might not have a normal wedding night (she wouldn't object. Nope. Not objecting. The promise of puberty had paid off, okay?) but it is their wedding night and as sweet as Isaac is, she wants some time alone with her husband. "Isaac, start cleaning the carrots and the potatoes." She calls after the young man. "Teens and food. It used to get me somewhere, especially if I didn't have to cook it all."

[packpapa]

He can't help it; he laughs, but not at her expense, simply because anything compared to what he's been accustomed to over the last few years has nothing on anything she can throw together.

"Chicken potpie sounds great," he assured her, offering out his bent arm for her to take as he turns towards the building at large. "You being here and taking over the kitchen is saving Isaac from a world of takeout and burnt, unidentifiable meals."

He simply smiles at her, light and easy, and he finds it freeing, as if a weight he didn't realise was there has been lifted from him, and it's all because of her.

"Come on," he prompts, leading them back inside, "The sooner we feed him, the quicker he'll be off to Scott's for the night." He may or may not have had a little - albeit, awkward - chat with his beta earlier in the day, and the two of them had come to an understanding. Well, at least he thinks that was the outcome, but he wouldn't put it passed Isaac to hold it over him for something in his favour later on.

[bostonhowler]

Isaac is going to Scott’s. Oh. She hadn’t known that. Derek must have set that up when she’d been busy with Carlos and Kevin.

She slips her hand through his arm and follows him into the loft. His warmth sinks into her and she’s glad of it, since it, and the heat outside might explain the slight flush on her cheekbones. She hates being pasty white Irish. It’s literally a pain in the knee sometimes.

Once inside, she folds her sleeves back and ties them up. Now, they’re out of her way. “Alright, Isaac, stop mangling the carrots.”

“I’m not!” Isaac complains but steps to the side, letting her in there.

She immediately starts working on the pastry that will cover the entire thing.

“Derek? Can you come scrape potatoes?” She calls, smiling over her shoulder at him.