Kings of the Moonlight

Tell I'm a Wreck because I Want You

You tell me I'm a wreck, you say that I'm a mess. How could you expect anything less?

-

It's the weekend when Isaac and Derek can finally take Wolf home. Derek has the Camaro by then and it's a welcome relief to be lulled along the streets by the sleek hum of the engine - the real world taking a step back in light of the artificial soundlessness in the interior of the car.

Isaac's been the most enthusiastic out of all of them in the preparation of Wolf's homecoming. He spent an inordinate amount of time choosing each item of furniture for Wolf, and even more time with Stiles on the kitchen table making intricate "Welcome home, Wolf" posters;  coercing Stiles into spending hour after hour drawing the same words again and again before he swooped in to colour them in with his crayons.

Isaac remained undeterred, even after he gained the knowledge that dogs couldn't actually read, he had shrugged his shoulders and went right on with colouring in his drawing of his dad.

Isaac bounces on his toes once they arrive at the clinic, wringing his hands together in excited apprehension, a large smile gracing his face. He giggles a little breathlessly every time he catches his father's eye, pressing his tiny fists to his mouth, the blue of his eyes twinkling with myrrh.

A poignant sort of love makes a warm home just beneath Derek's ribs when he sees the look on Isaac's face as Doctor Deaton carefully places the pup in the nestle of Isaac's arms. His eyes are wide, his words soft and awed as he coos gentle words to the pup.

Isaac treats Wolf like the pup is the finest crystal chalice he has ever held, bumping his tiny human nose to Wolf's canine muzzle, burying his face in Wolf's golden fur. And Derek thinks that adopting Wolf is the best idea he's had in a long, long time.

Having Wolf at home is a lot quieter than Derek previously thought it would be. The pup still can't walk much due to its broken paw, so instead Wolf and Isaac curl up in Isaac's customary pile of blankets for hours at a time, watching nature documentaries and cartoons alike.

It gives Derek enough time to set up his office in the spare bedroom, he spends all of Saturday afternoon rifling through the stacks and stacks of boxes populating the room, holding back the hurt of the memories that comes with each uncovered item.

He gets rid of a great deal of things too, and Derek thinks that the overstuffed black bin bags crowding his hallway have some sort of symbolism, some kind metaphysical allusion to the state of his life but he's too tired to try to figure it out.

So he pushes the thoughts to the back of his mind and he organises.

He puts his books in order, he stacks his records, sets up his computer, arranges his files, connects his telephone and by the end of it he feels ... he feels satisfied; like at least part of his life is organised. That in turn, gives him hope that he might just be able to untangle the rest of it into some semblance of order.

Derek later sticks his head into the living room to check on Isaac and Wolf, and the sight that greets him has him fumbling for his cell phone. He snaps close to thirty different pictures of Isaac curled around Wolf's back, an arm and a leg thrown over the pup's side, carefully avoiding his injured paw.

Isaac has his fist curled into Wolf's fur, tufts of it protruding from the spaces between Isaac's fingers and they're both asleep, lulled by the sound of cartoons on the TV, Isaac with his mouth open and drooling and Wolf with his pink tongue lolling out.

Derek's heart swells when Isaac sighs, curling his tiny toes in contentment and pulling Wolf even closer in sleep.

Derek prints the picture onto glossy photo paper and frames it in a sturdy in burnished silver case, to be displayed with pride on his desk. He's staring at this picture with a goofy smile on his face, ignoring the mountain of work on his desk, by the time that his mom comes around for a visit on Monday.