Prompt: love songs

Word Count: 1442

Pairing: Stisaac, pre-slash (Kind of I guess? I was originally aiming for more solid Stisaac but it came out this way. So.)

One of the things Isaac admires about Stiles is his ridiculous ability to brush things off without reacting. Or, you know, barely reacting. Like when Lydia and Jackson broke his heart again—for what, the 15th time?—and Stiles brushed by them to check on his jeep.

The way Isaac sees it, Stiles isn't invincible, but he'd like to pretend he is. Isaac understands that more than anything else.

It's February, and Scott is moping around listening to stupid love songs while Stiles is sprawled on Scott's bed while Isaac spins around in Scott's computer chair.

"If you fall I will catch you," Scott bellows. "Time after time!"

"Oh, my—Scott, will you shut up?" Stiles says. To be fair, he hasn't said anything until now, and it's the seventh song on Scott's playlist.

Scott groans and rolls over onto his stomach. His face presses into the carpet. "I just miss her, Stiles," he says mournfully.

"Dude," Stiles says, sitting up. "Maybe if you quit listening to Cyndi Lauper, you wouldn't be this upset."

"No, he really would," Isaac suggests. He stops spinning for a second to make a disgusted face at Stiles, like he's just as irritated about it. He kind of is. As much as he likes Scott, it's hard to forget that Scott and Allison break up and get back together on a month-by-month basis. Maybe they're made for each other, but she did shoot Erica full of arrows. And stab Isaac. Twice.

So yeah, Allison isn't his favorite person in the world. But she is Scott's favorite.

Weirdly, that should bother Stiles. Stiles is the best friend. Stiles consistently helps Scott out of messes. But Stiles, apparently, doesn't care that he's on the back burner.

Isaac envies that. What is that like? Being unflappable? Not relying on anyone? He wouldn't know.

"But Stiles," Scott whines. "I love her."

"Then go talk to her, but for the love of all things holy, please stop listening to mournful love songs," Stiles says, flopping back onto the bed and pulling one of the pillows over his face. "It's awful."

"It is," Isaac agrees, starting to spin again. "Try listening to something happier."

"What's happier than Selena Gomez singing about love songs?" Scott asks. He propped his chin on his hands, joining in as the next song starts playing. "Every beautiful thought's been already sung."

Stiles pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number. "Allison, you have to stop him."

Isaac stops spinning to snort into his hand.

"Stiles, what are you doing?" Scott demands, pushing himself up and moving toward the bed.

Isaac listens carefully for Allison's response. "What's wrong, Stiles?" she asks.

"Scott won't stop playing love songs," Stiles says. "He's moping and it's severely damaging Isaac's punk rock vibe. And my joy."

"Punk rock vibe?" Isaac questions.

Scott is trying to grab the phone from Stiles, but Stiles has his legs pushing into Scott's stomach to hold him back.

"I don't know what you want me to do, Stiles," Allison says.

"Stiles!" Scott yells, reaching out further and snatching the phone from his grip. "Sorry, Allison. I didn't put him up to this, I swear."

"I know," she replies. "Are you okay?"

Scott huffs. "Well..."

Stiles catches Isaac's eye and wiggles his eyebrows. "Score," he mouths.

"Punk rock vibe?" Isaac asks again.

"Yeah, leather jackets, boots, cocky smirk," Stiles says, waving a hand. "So punk rock."

"Are you being sarcastic?" Isaac asks.

"Dude, you'd know if I was being sarcastic."

"You need a ride, Isaac?" Stiles asks.

Scott is texting Allison on his own phone, now, grinning happily. After he'd hung up with her on Stiles' phone, he'd started texting and quit moping.

But now he was listening to some Demi Lovato song.

"Don't wanna break your heart, wanna give your heart a break," Scott mumbles as he taps out a reply.

"They are disgusting," Stiles says, frowning. "And remarkably easy to manipulate. Anyway, ride?"

Isaac nods. "Sure. Sounds nice." He doesn't dislike Allison. Seriously. But he would rather skip out on the disgusting flirting. And this way he won't have to call Derek for a ride home. He follows Stiles out of the room, half-heartedly saying goodbye to Scott.

"Bye, Scott," Stiles hollers as he opens the front door. "I hope your teeth don't rot from all the sugar."

Isaac raises an eyebrow.

"What? That's a common expression," Stiles says defensively. "Don't make fun of me. Or I'll leave your werewolf tail—" Stiles pauses to chortle at that "—in the middle of the street."

"I don't have a tail, Stiles," Isaac says, but dutifully he refrains from teasing.

When Stiles turns on the car, the DJ on the radio purrs that, since it's February, they'll be playing love songs all month long. "Good grief, Charlie Brown," Stiles says, and changes the station. "I get enough of that, all right?"

Isaac wonders if Stiles feels weird about his best friend having a girlfriend (in)consistently. Does it bother him that Scott gets laid, like, constantly? He squints at Stiles, who is still flipping through channels, until, despairingly, he settles on the station that plays "hardcore rock all the time," and decides that no, Stiles doesn't care.

Or, at least, he's acting like he doesn't.

Which seems weird.

"Scott has ruined Demi Lovato for me," Stiles says conversationally. "I really loved 'Skyscraper' until he started playing all his stupid love songs. 'Give Your Heart a Break' comes up in his playlist at least three times."

"Sorry," Isaac says, even though it's not his fault. He's pretty sure that's what Stiles was looking for. "But Demi Lovato? really?"

"Hey," Stiles says, pointing at him violently, which, really, who knew that was even a thing? "Do not knock Demi. She's brilliant."

"You think she's hot," Isaac hazards, and he's gratified by Stiles grinning.

"Yeah. And she can sing well. Even if she sings about love entirely too much."

"Don't most people?" Isaac asks. "The human condition seems to relate back to that."

"Right," Stiles agrees. "So what do you puppies listen to? 'Werewolves of London'?"

Isaac peels his lips back in a snarl, but it's half-hearted.

Either Stiles can tell that there's no real threat, or he's been hanging out with Derek too much, because he looks completely unruffled by the expression. If Isaac hadn't heard the slight increase in heartbeat, he would have thought Stiles wasn't bothered at all. It's skillful, really. That...repression.

"Nice," he says, letting the snarl drop off his face. "I expected you to say 'Hungry Like the Wolf.'"

"Come on," Stiles says, grinning and rolling his eyes. "That's an old joke. I keep things fresh." Like nothing happened at all.

At the end of the day, that's where they differ. Isaac gets scared and angry and sad and lonely. He lashes out because of it. Violence made sense to him. If something is bothering you, kill it, or beat it into submission.

Stiles is...he gets angry, too, and scared. He's probably just as lonely as Isaac, if not more. And he has to be sad. You don't lose your mother and continue living happily. It doesn't...that doesn't happen. But Stiles tucks everything away behind sarcasm and jokes. If there's a problem, he hides his emotions away and just...takes care of it. He doesn't have to act like a douche or beat any one up. He didn't have to become a werewolf to be strong.

And that's why Isaac will always admire him and defer to him. Derek trusts Stiles, no matter what he says. Even if he didn't, though, Isaac would.

"I like that song," Isaac offers, finally. "'Werewolves in London.' I liked it before the bite, but Derek thought I was being purposefully annoying when I was listening to it the other day."

Stiles beams at him, and points at his glove box. "I have it on one of my cds in there. Put it in. Anyway, Der-bear is way too paranoid about that stuff. I too happen to enjoy werewolf tunes, and it's not because I'm constantly dealing with your drama."

Isaac shuffles through a CD case. "Which mix is it in?"

Stiles cackles. "You'll know when you see it."

And Isaac does, because sometimes Stiles is entirely too predictable. He pushes the CD marked "Teen Wolf" into the CD slot, and Sam the Sham's "Lil Red Riding Hood" starts playing.

Stiles is singing along, trying to roughen his voice to match the singer's, and failing horribly.

Isaac smiles lazily and shuts his eyes. He'd take a mix designed to offend alpha werewolves over Scott's stupid love songs any day.

Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf.

A/N: I really hope I didn't woobify Isaac too badly in this. Saspoighaepovha. Sorry if I did! Feel free to follow me on my writing tumblr, neverendingpaintrain, or my personal, imagreatbowler. :)