Chapter Text
Stiles caught a glimpse of himself in a mirrored window on the way to the classroom. Actually, the community college he signed up with preferred to call them labs, usually with a descriptor that fit the category of class. Chemistry lab, electrical engineering lab, and so on. His poison of choice was "Art Lab 2." To be honest, it could've been almost any subject as long as it gave him a break from his pack and the supernatural.
He loved his friends, but as one of the few humans of the group he could only take so much murder and chaos before he started to go numb. His dad had suggested it off hand one night at dinner and Stiles had become intrigued by the idea. He used to paint with his mom who worked as an art teacher; she taught him all the proper techniques. He was out of practice, but ready to dive back into it all.
The class only met for an hour and a half each week during the first month of summer break. The best part was the late start time so that he could sleep in to his heart's content.
He fixed a few strands of wayward hair and then resumed his journey to the art lab. The room was easy to find and he was happy to see so many people in the room that he didn't know. Of the two faces he did recognize, he only knew the name of one of them and he was pretty certain that neither of them were supernatural creatures that wanted him dead.
The ages of the students ranged from a high school freshman to a widowed woman in her fifties.
He took a seat at one of the tables in the middle of the room and sat quietly. All the materials were going to be provided by the class instructor, a woman that had recently moved into the area. Stiles made a mental note to watch her given his past experiences with teachers wanting him dead.
His eyes narrowed when the hottest guy Stiles had ever seen walked in the room. The guy was a couple of inches taller than him and he wore a sky blue tank top that perfectly contrasted with his gorgeous sapphire eyes. Accompanying the tank was a pair of mesh jogging shorts that showed off the guy's muscled legs. It wasn't luck that the newcomer took the empty seat beside him.
He looked over and tried to stop himself from swooning at the cocky grin that was directed his way. The issue was that Stiles knew the guy, or at least knew of him. Their brief conversation outside the high school had been fairly one-sided, but that was typical for anyone that wasn't used to his tendency to talk until someone told him to shut up.
"Stiles, right?"
"Yes. And you're Brett Talbot. You were teammates with Liam."
The beta wolf chuckled. "A lifetime ago, maybe. I'm sorry about my behavior at our last game. I had something to prove to Dunbar that day, but I'm afraid you and your teammates got caught up in the drama."
"I'll say. You guys creamed us."
He felt Brett's eyes on him and couldn't help but enjoy the experience. He fully expected the beta to go back to ignoring him as soon as they left the confines of the four walls they were in.
"I saw you on the field that night. What you lack in precision, you more make up for with speed."
"Thanks," he replied. Was Brett actually complimenting him? That seemed a bit odd to Stiles, but he didn't want to be rude. Stiles forced himself to look away to give the guy an out to sit somewhere else if he wanted to. He didn't need Brett's companionship or pity.
"So…you paint."
"A little," he admitted. "I painted a lot with my mom when I was younger, but I fell out of the habit when she died."
"I'm sorry. Losing a parent isn't easy."
Stiles had heard the story about Brett and his sister from Scott. He felt bad for bringing up a sensitive topic, but the guy didn't appear to be overly emotional.
"No, it isn't."
As he looked around the room, he saw more than a couple pretty girls looking at Brett. He gave it half an hour before one of them approached him and tried to get the bisexual werewolf back to their table. He decided he would make the best of the situation until that happened. If nothing else, it would be good for the relationship between their two packs.
"What about you? Are you a new painter or someone with more experience?"
Brett leaned in a little closer and Stiles froze. "I have plenty of experience. As for painting, I guess you could say I'm better than average."
"I'm sure you're very good," he replied. His mouth suddenly went dry and he licked his lips to provide them with some moisture. He hadn't meant for his words to come out like that, but they were nevertheless true. When a guy looked that good, he had to know what he was doing.
"We all have our gifts," the beta answered cryptically.
Stiles had given up on Lydia at the end of sophomore year and his brief experience with Malia ended with both of them agreeing to move on. Stiles discovered he was bisexual around the same time all the hot werewolves entered his life. He never really spoke about it to anyone other than his dad, but he didn't think it was much of a secret.
Most of the guys at his school either hated him or avoided him, so he appreciated the friendly conversation. If he wished for it to be more than that, no one would blame him. Something would be wrong with him if he wasn't attracted to the guy seated beside him. Brett oozed self-confidence and from what little information he had gathered from Scott and Liam, the guy was intelligent and a competent werewolf.
The instructor walked to the front of the room with a rolling suitcase trailing behind her. Stiles could only assume that it was filled with the supplies they needed. As she went over the introduction and what they would be doing during their time together, Stiles became hyper vigilant about the werewolf seated beside him. It wasn't because he felt threatened though. It had much more to do with how the werewolf spread his knees apart so that their legs were pressed together.
While the instructor was passing out their supplies, Stiles caved. The tension had finally hit a level that he could no longer pretend to ignore. He turned to Brett to confront him, but the words became jumbled in his mind. Could he accuse the guy of flirting with him? Would that be rude? Would Brett think he was being homophobic?
More important was that he was enjoying the contact. For a dude in a werewolf pack, he was remarkably touch starved. He felt a pang of worry when he wondered if Brett was just messing with him. He really hoped the guy wasn't that cruel.
"Are you okay?" Brett asked. The werewolf looked genuinely concerned and Stiles blamed it all on his wayward chemo-signals.
"I'm good. How are you? Are you good?"
Brett's smile returned. "You're kind of a disaster, you know that? I like it."
Stiles expelled a nervous laugh. "Where have you been all my life?"
"I'm here now."
Stiles was immediately distracted by a loud noise as the crate was deposited in the center of the table. If their instructor overheard them, she had the decency to ignore it and stay quiet. He looked through the paints, brushes, and canvas boards that were provided.
"I make you nervous," Brett whispered. The beta leaned in closer and pretended to look at the supplies with him. Their fingers brushed together a few times and the contact left him electric with excitement.
"You make me feel a lot of things," he whispered back.
Flirting with a cute guy hadn't been on his agenda for the day, but he wouldn't lose the opportunity to make his move. The warmth from Brett's leg was heavenly in the air-conditioned room and he wanted more of Brett's body pressed against him.
"You smell perfect," Brett revealed. "I can promise you that whatever this is, it goes both ways. Which is something else I'm pretty skilled at, by the way."
He immediately tracked on to what Brett meant and the images that appeared in his head gave him so many ideas. He had to force his eyes off of the beta to retain his composure.
One of the girls that had been checking Brett out from the moment he entered seemed to catch on that something was going on between them. Her face went a little red and her eyes stopped glancing back in their direction.
"That's good to know."
The instructor returned to the front of the room and she started explaining the supplies that each table had received. They were tasked with painting an eight-by-ten canvas board using whatever subject and style spoke to them so that they could show her their artistic ability.
"I'll grab us some water," he offered. He took the water basin to the back of the room and focused on calming himself down before he had an exposure incident with so many witnesses. His jeans weren't skin tight, but they definitely felt more snug as he waited.
He was annoyed by the time be returned to the table. Brett was talking to a woman in her twenties that seemed to be on the verge of snapping her spinal cord to shove her cleavage in Brett's face. Stiles thought it was a nice sight, but still. The girl was trying way too hard and he couldn't help but feel a little protective over the guy he'd just spent ten minutes flirting with.
"Hi," she eventually said to him. "I was just introducing myself."
"That's sweet," he said back. His words had more sarcasm than he'd intended, but the girl didn't seem to notice or care. Her eyes zeroed back in on Brett.
"In regards to your offer, I'm afraid I'll have to pass. Stiles and I are going on a double date with some friends of ours after class ends."
The girl blinked at them, her eyes darting back and forth with at an alarming speed for a human being. After a beat, something computed in her brain. She stood up straight and took a step back. "You two are together?"
"Yeah, we are. Do you have an issue with that?" Brett questioned.
"N-no, of course not! I'm just…I mean…nevermind then! I'm sorry to intrude."
She scampered off and Stiles looked to Brett for an explanation.
"She wouldn't take no for an answer. I had to tell her something."
Stiles smiled at him. He liked having Brett's full attention. "Then I'm glad I came back when I did. What are you doing after this?"
"Nothing. Why?" Brett inquired. There was a sparkle in his eyes that Stiles found particularly alluring.
He summoned his courage and made a decision. Brett was always going to have people hitting on him. Stiles could live with himself if nothing came out of their conversation, but he was ready to take a chance.
"Well, I'm free and it sounds like you owe me a date."
Brett reached over and he grabbed Stiles' hand. They interlocked their fingers and found that they fit together perfectly.
"I believe I do."