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“You should stay the night,” Satomi says, the hint of a smile on her otherwise stern features. “Eat and drink, get some rest.” Even though she makes it sound like Stiles has any say in the matter, nobody would miss the clear command in her tone. She has absolutely no intention of letting Stiles leave. Something he’d usually be offended about coming from a werewolf. Satomi, however, is above looking down on foxes. She fought tooth and nail for Kira to join their tribe’s soldiers.
Stiles’ biggest dream was to become a brave as well, but after so many days living as an outcast with Parrish, he’s not exactly used to being around many people. Thinking about spending the night around so many people makes him more nervous than sleeping outside with murderous machines not too far away. Machines are predictable, though. People? Not so much. Still, Stiles does feel pretty tired. “Thank you, ma’am.”
Her smile brightens. A little, at least. “I’ll make sure you find an adequate place to stay the night.”
“Oh, no, please. I’m fine with a—”
“You’re our guest,” Satomi insists, and she hardly has to change her tone to make abundantly clear that this is not up to debate. “You really helped us tonight.” Her voice softens, and she places a hand on his upper arm. It’s a touch he knows from Parrish. It almost always feels pitiful, but when Satomi does it… it feels motherly. Like she’s actually proud of him. “And I don’t think my son would be too happy about letting you sleep in the dust.”
Stiles blinks, more than a little aware of the heat creeping into his cheeks. “Uh…” What ? Okay, to be fair, he's been ogling Brett more since he's allowed to talk to and actively fought with him. What can he say? Brett is tall and handsome. He's also an extremely skilled fighter.
Kira pops up out of nowhere. "Let's get you something to eat, Seeker ."
"Shut up."
But Kira only laughs softly and grabs his arm, tugging him away from Satomi before he has the chance to ask any further questions. "We bread, bread, and, well, bread!"
Stiles clears his throat, eyeing a few braves studying the two of them intensely. "That's fine by me." Even though he's officially a member of the Nora tribe now, not everyone is as accepting as Satomi and Kira. Brett has always been different… until he became a brave at least. Things changed after that. He had a harder time sneaking off because he’s never patrolled the Sacred Lands alone. That’s against the rules. Unless you’re an outcast, that is.
“So,” Kira says slowly, looking at the ground as if she found something extremely interesting there, “how long have you and Nora’s most eligible bachelor been a thing?”
Stiles squints at her. “A thing ?”
“Yeah.” Kira grins up at him, and although she’s curious, something in her expression seems hesitant; like he’s uncomfortable talking about it. “Well, dating.”
“Dating?” Stiles stops and stares at her, heat rising in his cheeks once again. Because his body is a fucking traitor. For fuck’s sake. “We’re… we’re— there’s nothing like that going on.” At all . Sure, Brett snuck out to meet up with him every now and again, but Stiles saved his life when they were little. It’s more like a responsibility thing than actually caring about him. Well, he probably does care… just not like that .
Kira intertwines her fingers behind her lower back. "Well… I just thought…" she ducks her head a little, not really giving the impression of someone who'd rip a machine apart with just a katana. "You look at each other a certain way when the other is not looking, you know?"
He does not know. Stiles is pretty sure he doesn't have any idea what she's talking about. "Brett was almost eaten by machines… I just helped."
Smiling almost sheepishly, Kira steps closer. "You certainly left an impression." As if they've known each other forever instead of merely a week, she steps closer until they're almost nose to nose.
"You two look… cuddly."
Kira whirls around, her ponytail slapping Stiles in the face. "Hey, Brett."
"All-Mother, put away the claws," Lori drawls, popping up behind him. "People could think you're jealous."
Stiles quirks a brow, locking eyes with Brett for all but a second before quickly looking everywhere else. Shit . Why does it feel like he's been caught doing something he shouldn't have?
Brett doesn't dignify his sister’s jab with a response. "Come on, Seeker, I'm supposed to show you where you're sleeping tonight?" Why is there such venom in his tone? It's not like Stiles begged to become a Seeker. It just happened.
Nodding, Stiles folds his arms in front of his chest and follows Brett in silence. He glances over his shoulder, watching Kira and Lori whisper to each other. Weird. And the perfect example for his decision to stay away from people. It's so much easier to be on your own. "Thanks, by the way, for… saving me earlier."
Brett makes a non-committal sound, stepping around a wall and stopping in front of a small tent. It's just big enough to crouch inside of it.
Stiles honestly doesn't remember the last time he's slept in a tent. Must've been ages ago. Then again, Jordan made a point of being home by nightfall. He swallows, glancing at Brett, and slips into the tent. That's not too shabby for one person. So, "who's backpack is that?"
"Mine." Brett enters the tent behind him.
"Yours?" Stiles echoes in disbelief, scrambling further inside because that's better than having Brett breathe down his neck. "This is a bit small for two, isn't it?" As if the size is the problem. It's the fact he is supposed to share his tent with Brett of all people.
The wolf studies him, hardly paying the tent any mind. "This isn't so bad." He quirks a brow, it's almost a challenge but not quite. "It's quite cozy, actually."
"If by cozy you mean suffocating, then you are correct."
"It's just one night. Don't be such a baby."
Stiles bristles. "Baby?" he echoes, narrowing his eyes. Anger comes easy. Anger he knows. Anger, he can handle so much better than whatever he's feeling for Brett. "Listen, if you're pissed about me becoming a Seeker, you gotta hash that out with Noshiko." As honorable as this position is supposed to be, Stiles is aware of why he's a convenient choice. He's got no family. No friends. Nobody would cry for him when he's not coming back.
“What?” Brett furrows his brows.
“I didn’t ask to be—”
Brett barks out a laugh, humorless and short. “You think I’m mad because you’re a seeker and I’m not?”
Stiles has no idea why else he would just stop talking to him. Again, he knows why they talked less… but now, that the law doesn’t forbid Brett to speak to him, he suddenly stops. Is that what their relationship was? Something exciting? An adrenaline kick he couldn’t get otherwise? Stiles eyes the exit, but Brett is still blocking it. "Why else would you be such a dick?"
"I'm not…" Brett trails off and narrows his eyes. A moment later, he stares at the ground. "I don't want to be a Seeker." Why the fuck is he angry then? "But I don't want you to be one either."
"Excuse me?" Becoming a Seeker is an honor, and even though Stiles doesn't care about what the Nora's like or not like, he deserves this position. "I—"
"I can't protect you when you're out there." Brett doesn't look him in the eye, staring at his fingers instead. "All I can do is pray you're coming home."
Stiles presses his lips in a thin line. Why would he say that? "You haven't spoken to me in almost three weeks."
"Because I wanted to get over you."
“Get over—”
Brett licks his lips, working his fingers through his messy blonde hair with a scowl. “Don’t get this the wrong way,” he says after a short pause, and Stiles wonders if he can hear his heart trying to escape his ribcage, “I was thankful you saved my life. I still am . But… do you think I’ve risked sneaking out for almost ten years if I didn’t at least like you? Well, and then like…” Brett gestures briefly, grimacing a little as he does so.
“Uh…” Stiles swallows and rubs his hands together. Not a single machine has ever made him this fucking nervous. “Like?”
“Don’t make me say it.”
“I… uh… I fear you’ll have to because I don’t—” And suddenly, Brett’s mouth is on his. Stiles widens his eyes, but he doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t know what to do what feels like forever. However, when Brett is about to pull away, it finally clicks. Right. Right. He should probably kiss him back. He very much wants to kiss him back. Curling his fingers in the blonde strands, Stiles presses closer, closing his eyes. This feels good. This feels so fucking right.
And it already has an expiration date.
Stiles pulls away, eyes still closed, savoring the last few seconds of whatever this is between them. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, curling his hands into fists in his lap, “I shouldn’t have…”
“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Brett’s voice is soft.
“I have to.” Stiles bites his bottom lip, taking a deep breath before he’s gathered enough courage to look at him again. “The attack… I have to figure out who did this.” As much as he despises most of the Nora’s from treating him like shit his whole life for being born something they fear, he owes those who died in the attack. Brett should know that best. Two of the people who killed protecting their home were his friends.
Brett doesn’t look mad, but something in his expression hints at frustration even though he smiles. “I could talk to Noshiko, like you said, and come with you.”
“I’d love that.” Stiles smiles, but his stomach contorts painfully. He’s not going to ask Brett to leave his sister and Satomi. He’s not going to ask Brett to leave his home. “But we should talk about this tomorrow, yeah?” Stiles isn’t even going to ask Brett to wait for him. Come sunrise, he will be gone, and if he makes it back to the Sacred Lands, he can go from there.
For a few seconds, Brett studies his features, and Stiles wonders if he knows. The smile on his lips seems almost a bit strained. “Okay.” He kicks off his shoes and slips under the covers, holding them up. “It’s a deal.”
Stiles follows his example, hiding his face in Brett’s neck, and tries to suffocate a sob trying to escape him. This is all he’s wanted in a long time. Brett’s arms around him feel like home. “It’s a deal,” Stiles whispers, closing his eyes. He’ll give himself a few hours to get a taste of what he’ll miss, no matter how much it’s going to hurt.