Hold Me Closer | Stisaac (Serendipity, Book 1)

Chapter 18 (Revised April 2024)

Don't call me by my name
All of this is temporary
Watch as I slip away for your sake
All of this is temporary
Well, maybe I could hold you in the dark
You won't even notice me depart
- Halsey, 'Bells In Santa Fe'

    The smell of eggs and waffles roused Stiles.
    He groaned and rubbed at his eyes as he sat up. Shaking his groggy head, he sighed deeply and slid off the bed to his feet in search of pants. Spotting his duffel bag on the sofa in the middle of the room, Stiles accomplished his mission and padded up the stairs and to the kitchen, wearing nothing but his sweatpants.
    Isaac hovered over the stove, fully clothed minus shoes, scrambling eggs with a spatula. He greeted Stiles without turning around. "Good morning, sleeping beauty."
     "What time is it?" Stiles croaked, plopping into one of the crown-backed chairs by the island counter. "I don't even remember falling asleep."
     "It's, like, nine. Still early. You passed out somewhere around the third or fourth, uh..."
     Stiles folded his arms atop the cold marble surface and laid his head on them. "I'm sorry, I totally wasted our night."
    "It's okay. You were tired. And it definitely wasn't a waste."
    Stiles could hear the smirk in Isaac's voice, and it made him laugh to himself. "Okay, yeah, maybe 'waste' wasn't the right word. But you know what I mean."
    Isaac flipped off the burner and turned around. "Well, we could always stay another night. If you want to. Especially since we got here an entire day later."
    Stiles straightened himself and held out a hand, stretching it across the counter. Isaac gently grabbed it. Blinking blearily, Stiles struggled to focus on Isaac's face as it shifted in and out of focus. "I would love to."
    Isaac bit back a smile and leaned across the counter to press a kiss to his cheek and then his lips. Stiles broke away when the urge to deepen the kiss became too strong.
     "No. I have morning breath," he said.
     Isaac chuckled. "Yeah, it is pretty rank. Go brush your teeth."
    Stiles swatted at him. "Hey, on a scale of one to Shrek's swamp, I'm pretty damn good with my morning breath ranking."
     Isaac shrugged. "Eh, you're about a three."
    "And what are you?"
     "Probably a three on my worst day. One-and-a- half on my best."
     Stiles pursed his lips. "Yeah, you are kind of like a walking Colgate commercial."
    Isaac laughed and rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to the stove. "Well, unless you want to up your ranking to fit in with the ogres, you might wanna go brush your teeth. The food's done. Morning breath, garlic, and onions probably don't mix well."
     Nodding his agreement, Stiles went back downstairs to the bedroom and brushed his teeth in the adjoining bathroom. It took longer than it should have because he got caught up looking around. No bathroom had the right to look so damn pretty.
    A white marble, double-sink countertop laid over a black cabinet, complete with two cupboard doors beneath each sink and four drawers in the center between them. The mirrors, lined with golden trim, matched the shiny wide-spread waterfall faucets and squared double handles. A glass-door shower spread over the entirety of the far wall.
Stiles couldn't help but feel a little saddened at the luxury that surrounded him. He had never been particularly picky and certainly not ungrateful—any shelter was good shelter to him. But he'd had a vision for his life of financial stability and independence, of nice things that he could have and know he worked hard for them, that were his. He'd dreamed of having a beautiful home to raise a child in, an environment where there was structure and love, responsibility and respect, and the certainty that anything could be accomplished, that they could have anything they wanted, that they'd never have to worry about what they needed.
Over the years, the dream had gotten dimmer and out of reach. He'd grown used to being Chris's, not his own. Living in Chris's house, with his money and his rules, to always worrying whether or not he'd find himself in the streets the next day (or worse, dead). He'd also become accustomed to the idea of never having kids because Chris didn't want them. He'd convinced himself that everything was okay, that he should just feel lucky to have someone who took care of him, that he was happy with the life he was leading.
But spending nights alone in that empty house without Chris, without the weight of him on his shoulders and around his throat, Stiles came to realize everything that he'd buried so deep down. It became glaringly clear that he'd been settling. Settling for what he thought he deserved. Settling for wasting precious years of his life that only pulled him further away from the dreams of his seventeen-year-old self. Perhaps even worse was the nagging thought that even in Chris's absence, those dreams were unavailable to him. Unrealistic. Impossible. That he was stuck in the hole that he'd let Chris dig for him.
This house, and the time spent with Isaac, chipped away the walls that towered around Stiles, crumbling away with every kiss and touch and laugh and smile. The walls of doubt, of insecurity, of fear, of guilt.
Stiles bent over, turned on the faucet, and filled his cupped hands with cold water, gently rinsing his face to wake himself up. He straightened and looked at himself in the mirror, pale face dripping with water. For a moment, he didn't even recognize his own reflection.
Shaking the thoughts out of his head, Stiles wiped his face off and returned to the kitchen.
    Two plates, heaped with eggs and waffles, sat on the island counter, surrounded by a bottle of maple syrup, freshly cut strawberries, a can of spray whip cream, and salt and pepper grinders. Isaac sat in one of the chairs, fumbling with silverware and napkins. Stiles slid into the chair beside him.
    Isaac looked at him and smiled. "You look refreshed."
    "I am." He gestured to the feast before them. "Expecting a party?"
    Isaac laughed. "No, but I definitely, uh, worked up an appetite last night. I figured you probably did, too."
    "Very true, very true." Stiles popped a slice of strawberry into his mouth. "I haven't had sex that many times in one night before. Certainly a record-breaker."
    Isaac smiled coyly and started scooping food onto their plates. "No doubt about that." A pause. "You're actually the first person who's ever made me cum like that before. Twice in a row, I mean."
    Stiles, pleased, grinned, and exaggerated it with Miss America-style pride. "I guess that means I'm talented."
    Isaac blushed a pale red. "You definitely are. But, uh...What really did it for me was you. Not just because you're beautiful, but like...Because it was you. Your eyes—"
     Stiles blushed now at the memory. Sudden shyness crept into him. "Yeah. Me too. I think that's what I was trying to say last night. In the middle of it, you know, when I-I—but I just couldn't seem to find the words."
    Isaac kissed him softly, a long, lingering press of sweet strawberry lips before he broke away, handed Stiles a fork, and picked up his own.
    "Thank you for breakfast," Stiles said, stabbing into the fluffy, delicious-looking scrambled eggs.
    "You're welcome. Any time."
    They ate in comfortable silence for a few moments before Isaac spoke again.
    "When are you supposed to start work?" he asked.
    "Next—" Stiles said over a bite of waffle. Syrup dripped over his lip. He licked it off quickly, annoyed at the sticky interruption. "—Tuesday," he finished.
    Isaac poked at his stack of waffles. "So we're probably not going to see each other very often for a while? This might be our last, uh, uninterrupted time for a bit?"
    Stiles sat back. "I hadn't really thought about that, but yeah, I guess you're right."
    A strange tingling ache bloomed in Stiles's chest at the realization. The past few months had been full of Isaac, full of excitement and exploration and newness. He'd grown accustomed to their rhythm, to spending most of their nights together and falling asleep together on Facetime when they couldn't be. He didn't like the thought of losing that; it felt...empty.
    Isaac looked at him, all furrowed brows and clenched jaw. After a few seconds, his face slackened and a determined smile flashed instead.
    "Well, we're just going to have to make this little trip worthwhile then, aren't we?" Isaac said.
    Stiles returned his smile. "We will."
    After breakfast, they crawled back into bed for an hour or so. They didn't do anything but lie there, curled against each other in silence. Stiles was focusing on Isaac's heartbeat, pounding in his ear, and the slight rise and fall of his chest that dipped Stiles's head every few seconds. Isaac was thinking about something, if his fingers lightly tapping against Stiles's back were any indication.
"Truth or dare?" Stiles muttered into Isaac's chest, breaking the silence.
"What?"
Stiles repositioned his head to free his mouth from the cloth of Isaac's shirt. "Truth or dare?" he repeated.
"Uh...truth."
"What's the biggest lie you've ever told?"
"When I told my family that I was straight."
Stiles chuckled. "Truth or dare?"
"Truth."
"How many people have you slept with?"
"Four."
"Truth or dare?"
"Truth."
Stiles sat up and rotated to face Isaac. "Oh my God. Again?"
Isaac shrugged and smiled.
Stiles sighed. "Okay, fine. What's the weirdest thing you've ever bought and what did you do with it?"
"Canned octopus. And I put it on the hood of someone's car in the middle of the summer."
"What? Why?"
"He cut off me and Lydia and we almost crashed into a bus."
"So you followed him and vandalized his car?"
"Hell yeah."
Stiles laughed. "Good job. Okay, should I even ask this time, or...?
Isaac sat up. "Sure."
"Truth or dare?"
"Dare."
Stiles looked around the room and frowned. He hadn't thought that far ahead. "Um...Oh, I know! I dare you to...make an outfit out of, uh...make an outfit out of the bedding and do a strip tease."
Isaac looked down at the golden silk sheets and then down at himself. He frowned and pushed his lips out thoughtfully. "How...?"
Stiles threw himself down onto his back and followed Isaac with his eyes, hands behind his head so he could still see the chaos about to ensue. Isaac slid off the bed and got to work. First, he pulled off a pillowcase. Then he started to pull on the sheet before realizing that Stiles was in his way. He yanked hard with one hand and shoved at Stiles with the other.
"Get off my dress, you ass!" he exclaimed.
Stiles rolled off the bed with a laugh and hopped over the back of the sofa, his knees sinking into the cushions. He leaned over the back and continued watching the show.
Isaac, now armed with a pillowcase and a sheet, disappeared into the bathroom only to return a moment later and snatch up a second sheet. He slid closed the bathroom door behind him this time.
"Did you play games as a kid?" Stiles called through the door. "I'm getting the impression you're a competitive person."
"And I always win!" Isaac shouted back, voice muffled.
Struck with an idea, Stiles jumped off the sofa and snatched his cell phone from the bedside table. Returning to the sofa, he quickly scrolled through the Music app to find his desired track. He hovered his thumb over the play button, prepared, and waited.
Several minutes later, the bathroom door slid open to reveal only one of Isaac's bare legs, stuck out at an angle. Stiles quickly pressed play and switched over to his camera.
    Sissy That Walk by RuPaul began just as Isaac slowly slinked through the doorway.
Stiles held a hand to his mouth.
    The pillowcase was wrapped around Isaac's head and fell down his back. Stiles assumed he'd been trying to impersonate hair, but it looked like a nun's headpiece instead.  He'd twisted and twirled the bed sheets in all sorts of ways. One wrapped around his naked chest and shoulders like a halter top, revealing the space between his pecs, and another was strategically wrapped around his lower half in a loin-cloth/mini-skirt type of situation.
Giving a full view of Isaac's thick, hairy thighs and his slim legs, and a chunk of his lower stomach, the makeshift outfit seemed constricting. Isaac walk-lurched forward, his hands on his hips. He fixed his eyes on Stiles, a tight, intense look on his face. His eyebrows were raised high, his cheeks sucked in and his lips pouted out. He jerked himself toward Stiles like a drunken runaway model and stopped a few feet in front of him. With a spread of his legs, he bowed fiercely and snapped his head back, moving his arms into a self-hug. The makeshift head wrap slipped back, revealing his hairline and a small bush of curls, before it popped loose and tumbled to the floor.
Stiles watched with wide eyes, awestruck that Isaac had taken the dare and even more shocked that he was carrying through with such dedication.
"Is that what you wanted?" Isaac slurred in a deep, sultry tone. He smacked his lips. A chuckle escaped through Stiles's clenched lips. Tears burned in his eyes with the effort of keeping his laughter in. Isaac jumped onto the sofa at Stiles's feet, legs spread wide.
Riiip.
Isaac's eyes widened. They stared at each other for a moment. Isaac glanced down at the sheet around his waist and looked back at Stiles with terror. Stiles, unable to resist any longer, burst out into an obnoxiously loud cackle. Phone forgotten, he dropped it to the sofa and covered his face with his hands as tears streamed down his cheeks.
"Oh my God. I ripped my skirt," Isaac whined. Stiles was laughing too hard to respond. Isaac sat back on his heels and placed his hands on his hips. "You think this is funny?" When Stiles nodded, wheezing, Isaac lunged on top of him, digging his fingers into Stiles's side and his inner thighs.
Stiles screeched and tried to pull away, but the tickling only intensified his laughter and took away the last of his strength. He had no choice but to lay there, weakly flailing, jerking his hips like a bull in feeble attempts to uproot Isaac. Satisfied that he'd tortured Stiles enough, Isaac ceased fire and released Stiles, throwing himself back into a sitting position and flinging his legs over the back of the couch.
It took several moments for Stiles to regain his composure and fade into sniffles and sighs. When he could see straight again, he looked at Isaac.
"I can't believe you actually did that," he croaked.
"I told you, I always win." Isaac smiled cheekily.
Stiles sat up onto his knees, grabbed Isaac's left leg and pulled it away, lowering it to hang off the edge of the sofa so he could slide between his legs and pull him into a kiss.
"You won this round, but there's many more to go."
Isaac gently tapped Stiles's temple. "What plans are swirling up there, you little devil?"
"I guess you'll find out."
Isaac kissed him again and then pulled away with a groan. "This thing is cutting off circulation to my balls. I need to take it off."
Stiles sat back and allowed Isaac to disentangle himself and hobble back into the bathroom. The sight of a rip in the golden fabric across Isaac's butt sent him into another fit of giggles.

Leavin' through the door without a word
You won't even notice, little bird
Better off dead, so I reckon I'm headed to Hell instead
So don't wait for me, don't wait for me, wait-ah
It's not a happy ending
- Halsey, 'Bells In Santa Fe'

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Please leave any feedback that you have while reading! Thank you all for reading, commenting and voting :) Visit the story on AO3! My username there is @/burningahighwaytohades.

Find the soundtrack of songs that inspired, or coincide with, this work on Apple Music and YouTube.

Hold Me Closer, a Stisaac fan-fiction by iceandtanqueray: the soundtrack: https://music.apple.com/us/playlist/hold-me-closer-a-stisaac-fan-fiction-by/pl.u-55DPpLVh8kg86BW