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Karma works fast. A little too fast for his liking. Fifteen minutes ago, he was hooking up with Brett Talbot in the showers of his prep school, now he is running for his life as fast as he can while having to drag Brett along with him. Those fucking hunters came prepared, and Brett isn’t healing properly. Whatever wolfsbane they’re using, it’s working fast, and they can be lucky most of those assholes have the aim of a stormtrooper, or they’d be in some serious trouble right now.
“Could you make yourself any heavier?” Stiles grunts, hoisting Brett further up his shoulder.
Brett makes a pained sound. “I thought you foxes are oh so capable.”
“Oh my god, really?” Stiles grinds his teeth, dragging this arrogant sack of shit through the halls of his school. Luckily, he does not have to explain the trail of blood left behind to Natalie. He doesn’t even know if there are cameras here. If there are, the hunters probably took care of that issue. “You couldn’t get into my pants fast enough, and now you’re being a fucking baby about this?” Does Stiles prefer to stay away from werewolves? Yes. But he’s not going to say no to an exceptionally hot one, especially not when he’s really good with his fingers and mouth.
“That was before I knew—“
“I will drop you if you finish that sentence.” To Stiles’ surprise, Brett does not say anything. Which is good because Stiles would have never actually dropped and left him to die. He’s not that kind of person — even though he should be because he’d be so much faster. But he’s one of the good guys. Sadly. Sucking in a breath, Stiles slams into the double doors and shoves them open. Parking lot. “Do you have your keys on you?” He could hotwire his car, but he doubts he’s got the time for that. The hunters are slow, not stupid. Someone is going to be here any second.
“Gym bag,” Brett grunts.
“Shit.” What now? Where to? Stiles needs to bring distance between them and the hunters as quickly as possible. They will shoot on sight, and they are going to get away with it. “Fuck,” he spits, dragging Brett over the parking lot. As much as he loves his fox’s speed, Stiles can’t deny that a bit more strength would be helpful in a situation like this. “Okay, Plan B.” Which is actually Plan Z because it’s the only other thing they can do. Stiles isn’t going to fight those hunters alone. There are ten of them and at least one of them has a decent aim. But luckily for them, Devenford Prep is located near a bridge and a river. That is their one way out, and Stiles is going to take it.
“Kate!” Someone yells, “parking lot!”
Brett curses under his breath, but there’s really not much else he can do. His Achilles tendon is destroyed for however long it takes his body to fight the wolfsbane. Swimming is the best option they both have. Plus, the water gives him more cover than the few trees and cars — and the second they’ve crossed the street, Brett seems to have realized exactly what the plan is. “We’re not jumping off,” he says with an authority in his voice that has zero effect on Stiles. “We are not jumping.”
“We are jumping off!” Stiles replies as they enter the bridge.
“Absolutely not,” Brett shoots back immediately, leaning against the railing with a grunt.
Rolling his eyes, Stiles jumps on the other side, almost losing his footing. “A fox or hunters, pick your poison.” Raising a brow, he locks eyes with Brett. This shouldn’t even be a fucking argument, yet here they are with hunters on their tail and a stubborn werewolf who can’t walk to steps on his own without falling on his face. “Talbot, come on.” Stiles secures his footing and offers Brett a hand — Brett who is very pale and sickly looking, knuckles white around the railing. If this guy has a fear of heights, Stiles is going to—
Something punches right through his shoulder, something hot and violent. The impact shoves him backward. His grip on the railing slips. He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.
Oh.
“Stiles!” Brett reaches for him.
And then, he’s falling.
———
When Stiles wakes up, he finds himself in a bed. A surprisingly comfortable one. He blinks his eyes open, scowling at the faint ache in his shoulder. He’s not in the hospital, but he’s not at home either.
“Brett,” a girl says, “you can stop crying now. He’s waking up.”
“Oh, shut up, Lori.” But quick footsteps follow the words, and only a second later, the mattress dips under Brett’s added weight. “Hey,” his voice is surprisingly soft, “how are you feeling?” Fingers ghost over his forehead, almost as if to check for a fever or to brush hair out of his face.
Stiles smiles, heart fluttering obnoxiously in his chest. He’s seen him do it to his sister, saw the worry in his eyes when he looked at her. Stiles never expected to be on the receiving end of this, but he’s not complaining. “Considering someone shot me, I feel surprisingly well.” Stiles gets his arms under him, groaning when pain cuts through his shoulder.
“Careful.” Brett helps him sit up. “You healed surprisingly quickly after our emissary got rid of the wolfsbane.”
“For a fox?” Stiles grimaces, and he’s still very much offended at Brett’s previous behavior, but he’s too exhausted to swat his hands away when he checks the bandages.
Brett glances at him then makes a point of avoiding his gaze. “I may have been a little judgmental.”
“Just like you’ve been a little obsessed with him since the first time you met him?” Lori cackles diabolically, reminding Stiles why he very much appreciates being an only child. “Have fun.” She winks and slips out of the room, waving innocently. The door shuts with a bang, and she yells something that Stiles didn’t catch, but that makes Brett squirm next to him.
The werewolf massages his temples. “What’s it called if you kill your sister?”
“Sororicide.” Stiles massages his aching shoulder, trying not to smile too brightly. “So, you’re obsessed with me?”
Brett shoots him a look and clears his throat. “Shut up.”
Grinning now, he grabs his hand, easily intertwining their fingers. “You know,” he whispers, enjoying the feeling of Brett’s hand in his, how right this feels, “we could totally continue what we started in the locker room.”
A small smile tugs on the corner of Brett’s mouth. “I could also invite you to dinner.”
Stiles tips his head to the side, quirking a brow. “As a thank you for saving your sorry ass? Can’t imagine you’re dating a creature beneath you, oh mighty wolf.”
“Don’t get cocky, fox.”
Smirking, Stiles kisses the back of Brett’s hand. “It would never cross my mind.”