#bretttal

❝ oh, brett, this is so sudden, i don't think i'm ready, ❞ kavinsky said as brett's giant hand pushed him back onto the bed. he wanted to tell himself that he had put up a fight but the moment brett's hand touched his chest kavinsky had all but flopped back against the mattress and burrowed himself into the blankets. he was shaking so hard his teeth were clacking together, sweat beaded down his face, his dark hair sticking to his skin as he tried to curl up into a ball beneath the covers.

kavinsky wasn't an idiot, he knew he'd lapse eventually, knew that sobriety was a up hill battle, as constant as sisyphus with that fucking boulder. he'd reached the top only for it to roll right back down again. kavinsky didn't know if he was supposed to be sisyphus or the boulder but either way he was at the bottom. ❝ ugh, i feel like shit, ❞ kavinsky complained, abandoning his coy charade and squinting up at brett, ❝ christ, you look like shit, were you here all night? ❞

He’s covered in grime, blood and dirt and sweat and God knows what else he was caught in the middle of during the fight. The knuckles of one hand are split open and he’s going to have to get his bat replaced because it’s got such a dent in it that it’s nearly bent in half, but he’s alive, and for Stiles, that’s really what matters.

He’s alive. His pack is alive. And then, then he sees Brett, and Brett is alive, too.

Stiles’ knees nearly go out from under him, the relief hits him so hard. He might have actually ended up just sitting down in the edge of the Preserve, in the mud and the dirt and the sticks and the leaves, but like he always is, Brett’s just there, strong arms wrapping around Stiles, holding him up where Stiles just can’t do it anymore.

He isn’t the best at surrender, but here, surviving, living, with his boyfriend holding him, well. Here, it’s as easy as breathing. Maybe easier, right now.

So he does. He just kind of goes a bit limp, leaning into Brett’s embrace, trying to choke back tears and echoing Brett’s constant patter of, “I’m here, I’m here, I’ve got you, you’re okay,” with reassurances of his own.

@bretttal​    →     💋   malia + brett.

Maybe  she  isn’t  used  to  such  kindness.           The woods are a harsh, old friend, and they are filled with many things that tried to kill her. It seems reasonable that her guard would always be up, but Brett seems so intent on breaking through it. When he presses the kiss against her the side of her head, she feels herself tensing up. It takes a lot of control not to flinch away. As he pulls away, she’s looking up at him, a clear confusion in her eyes. There is a softness to her face, despite the defensive body language, arms hugged close to her chest.