The hunters are dead, and Isaac is free. It’s been thirty-six hours since he got taken, and Stiles doesn’t want to think about might have happened to him in that time. He’s got blood on his face, but no wounds mar the smooth skin. It’s obvious the hunters tortured him, just by the way he’s carrying himself and how closed off he is at the moment. Not the charming asshole who irritates Stiles with his smug smirks at all. Instead, it’s like he’s withdrawn, trying to curl himself down as small as possible, and Stiles doesn’t like it at all.
Scott’s got bodies to deal with and too much drama going on to tend to his own wounds, much less any of the pack, so Stiles steps in and guides Isaac to Roscoe. He drives them to his house, relieved to see that it’s dark and his dad’s car isn’t in the driveway. Stiles is good at taking care of people, contrary to what people might assume just because he’s an asshole with a fondness for pushing buttons. He gets Isaac into the house and up the stairs, speaking softly and moving cautiously. Isaac is willing to follow him, so that’s what really matters.
He leads him to the bathroom, clinically undressing him and refusing to let his gaze linger on bare skin and muscles. Now isn’t the time for that, and he’s still happily rolling around in denial that the reason he and Isaac argue so much is because they want to fuck each other. Instead, he turns on the shower, testing the water with his fingers until it is perfect, then he urges Isaac to step into the tub. Isaac grips his bicep and doesn’t let go, which makes it difficult for Stiles to clean the dirt and blood off of him. He manages, and maybe he sneaks a couple of peeks below Isaac’s waist, but who could blame him?
After the shower, he towels him dry and then carefully wraps the towel around Isaac’s waist. There’s a faint smile on Isaac’s lips that makes Stiles blush even as he rolls his eyes. They walk down the hall to his room, stopping by his dad’s long enough for him to steal a pair of sweatpants for Isaac. Isaac takes the pants from him and pulls them on beneath the towel, back to himself enough to not force Stiles into doing it. While he’s doing that, Stiles strips down to his underwear and gets a pair of his own sweatpants off the back of his desk chair.
His bed is a full size, so it’s not huge, but it’s big enough for both of them. He pulls the blanket back, watching Isaac’s nose twitch before he crawls beneath the covers. Stiles turns off the light then gets into bed with him. Isaac is taller than him, but he rolls onto his side and pushes back against Stiles. Stiles moves his arm around Isaac’s waist, feeling him tense for a moment before he relaxes and sighs softly. Stiles tightens his embrace, just holding Isaac against him until he falls asleep.
Taking Care of Isaac
Story Notes:
Based on prompt request for Isaac/Stiles sharing a bed