"I... I shouldn't," Isaac said in a whisper, but his feet moved, one in front of the other, taking him to the side of Stiles' bed. It was like that night at the club, when he knew what he was doing was probably wrong, but still couldn't stop it.
But this wasn't just like the club. Stiles was Derek's, and Isaac was Derek's. In a sense, they were like brothers, both under their Master's care. Derek thought that Stiles would never get along with Isaac, and now here they were. Perhaps it was what Derek would want.