The swish of the curtain seemed too loud in the quiet room.
Brennan tugged the chair closer to the bed and sat carefully.
"You're not in any pain, are you? Your arm?"
He sounded so sincere Taylor couldn't help but glance to him.
"I've had worse," he mumbled.
Much worse really.
Brennan frowned. He reached out, Taylor flinching.
Brennan's hand jerked back and he glanced away.
"I can help," he said quietly. "I don't want you to be in any pain, Taylor. Please."
"I'm fine."
Brennan sagged visibly and Taylor felt a slow rise of guilt. He fought against it.
First of all their meeting had been permanently traumatizing and secondly this nicey nice act would only last so long.
"So…you didn't…want to leave today?"
Taylor didn't answer.
He didn't know what he wanted.
Part of him wanted to go home but that was ridiculous. Verging on suicidal. He didn't want to go home. He was just scared.
Not so much of what had happened, but more what could happen.
What would happen.
"Okay," Brennan sighed.
After another moment he pushed back out of the chair.
Taylor let himself watch Brennan leave.
Just for a moment.
…
It was another day before Taylor agreed to actually leave the infirmary.
Of course he really should have expected that he would be expected to move in with Brennan.
It was a nice house, bigger than he expected too.
"So this will be your room," Brennan said, gesturing to an open doorway on the left.
"Mine?" Taylor questioned sharply, surprised.
Brennan looked uncomfortable.
"I can't fully understand your hesitation," he said carefully. "But I recognize that things are different for humans. I would like to make you comfortable."
Taylor snorted. He was quite suddenly – irrationally – angry.
"Comfortable?" he demanded, derisive.
"Yes."
"How can I be comfortable? How do you even expect me to sleep down the hall from you after what you did?"
Brennan's eyes widened and he took half a step back.
There was a painfully long silence.
"I'll let you get settled in."
And that was it. He walked away.
Taylor was left wondering what it even was that he wanted.
…
Lunch was tense.
Taylor was quite practiced in silences and pretended it didn't bother him.
Brennan obviously was not the same.
"Is that really how you feel?" he questioned, eyes locked on his plate.
Taylor quickly decided to pretend he was obtuse.
"Is what how I really feel?"
"That I forced you," Brennan said. His free hand curled on the table top.
Taylor chewed slowly.
He didn't owe Brennan anything. He didn't. And maybe he wasn't ready to admit anything anyways.
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug, wincing as it twinged his arm.
Brennan looked down, exhaling sharply.
"Then I'm sorry," he said. It was a long moment before he looked back up. "I'm sorry," he said more intensely.
Taylor didn't know how to react, staring at him stupidly.
"Sorry for claiming me?" he questioned, unable to forget the look in Stiles' eyes when he'd said his mate didn't want him.
He supposed he should have seen this coming then.
At least Stiles wasn't damaged goods.
"No," Brennan said, distracting him. "No I'm not sorry for that. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry you regret it." He seemed to say this last part slowly, careful of the words.
Regret implied choice Taylor supposed.
"I don't want you to be scared of me Taylor."
"You're kinda a werewolf," Taylor protested, laughing once.
"I know," Brennan said softly, teasing?
Taylor couldn't be sure.
He went back to eating, just in case.
It was a few minutes before Brennan spoke again.
"Can I ask you something?"
Taylor shrugged.
"Will you go to the pack meet with me tonight?"
"Pack meet?"
Brennan nodded, dimples showing just slightly.
"It's a party basically. Food, campfire, stuff like that."
"Like summer camp?" Taylor questioned.
He was embarrassed immediately, dropping his chin as his cheeks flushed.
"I guess so," Brennan said, "yeah."
Taylor took a big bite of his sandwich, chewing slowly again.
"Did you like summer camp?" Brennan asked.
Taylor didn't answer, still watching the table top.
He didn't want to think about that. It'd been so many years ago.
Not to mention he'd only gone for a weekend sampler, too homesick to go for a whole two weeks.
But he'd been a child he reminded himself.
He was allowed.
"Taylor?"
There was no way he was talking about this.
"Taylor?" Brennan tried again. "Come on, we were doing so well."
Taylor focused back on his food.
"Taylor? Tay? Tay Tay?"
Taylor shot him a quick glare, surprised when Brennan grinned.
"At least I know how to get a reaction out of you."
"If you ever call me Tay Tay again," Taylor threatened, unsure how to finish. "And I don't want to talk about it."
"Okay. Then say that. We'll talk about something else."
Taylor squinted at him.
"Just like that?"
"Yeah," Brennan said easily. "Just like that. We're never gonna get anywhere if you keep shutting me down."
Taylor wasn't sure that he wanted to get anywhere.
But at the same time he wasn't in a huge rush to go home.
"So pack meet?"
"Yeah…I guess."
"Okay," Brennan said, "great."
…
Brennan offered to clean up, which was nice really, but it left Taylor feeling unbalanced and restless.
He drifted back upstairs and into his room, closing the door softly behind him.
He didn't know how much good it did with a werewolf downstairs but maybe it was more habit than anything else.
It made him feel better at least.
Taylor crossed to the bed, nearly twice the size of his back home. It was made up with a striped comforter and blue sheets, half folded back in a way that almost made him want to climb in.
But he'd spent the past two days in bed.
Taylor moved to the dresser instead, tugging open one of the drawers with a blank sort of curiosity.
There were clothes inside.
Clothes he knew.
Taylor's eyes were straining wide in disbelief.
He shoved a hand inside, pushing the fabric up and out of the way.
Yes, he knew them all.
His heart was beating out a painful staccato against his ribs.
How?
This shouldn't be possible. It wasn't – it wasn't possible.
His stomach turned and contracted until he felt sick with it.
The door opened quietly but Brennan lingered in the doorway, as if unwilling to intrude on this.
Whatever this was.
"These are mine," Taylor said.
"Yes."
Taylor nearly snarled.
He needed more than that.
"Why," he bit out.
Brennan at least had the decency to look uncomfortable at that.
"Sometimes it's easier making it look like they ran away. They'd already taken these anyways and I thought it might make you more comfortable so I went and got them for you."
Taylor wondered if the entire dresser was full.
They'd brought nearly all his clothes if it was.
"No one would have looked for me either way," Taylor admitted finally.
He couldn't bring himself to look at Brennan's reaction.
"Waste of effort really."
Brennan was silent.
"Maybe," he said eventually, "maybe not."
Taylor closed the drawer slowly, unsure what to say to that.
…
Things between them were weird but it was different with the others.
The atmosphere was sort of euphoric and Taylor had no idea what to do with so many happy people.
it was unsettling in a way that he didn't quite mind.
And it seemed easier to be near Brennan.
Taylor had no clue why.
Maybe it had something to do with pack mentality.
Or maybe he just preferred Brennan over total strangers.
He didn't know.
Aubry and Chase joined them, Chase and Brennan jostling each other good naturedly.
They'd grown up with each other apparently.
Taylor wondered what it was like to have that kind of friend for a few moments.
And then Brennan distracted him again.
The touches were tentative at first, Brennan watching his reactions with an intensity that left Taylor feeling self conscious and off balance.
By the second hour Brennan was nuzzling his neck before ducking away again. Nearly like a puppy playing.
Taylor almost expected his face to be licked next.
It didn't inspire the reaction he thought it should.
By the time the sun went down Brennan had kissed his cheek twice, making him jump the first time, fed him by hand, and held him by the fire.
Taylor wasn't sure this was his life.
He was happily warm by the time they went back to Brennan's, letting Brennan tug off his sweatshirt when they got inside.
He wondered how long he'd been smiling. His cheeks ached faintly at the thought.
"I might be a little drunk," he realized.
"A little," Brennan agreed, grinning down at him. He draped Taylor's hoodie over his arm and Taylor hummed a bit at that.
He couldn't decide if it was thoughtful, patronizing, or presumptuous.
"Did you need some help, or are you good on your own?"
"Hm?"
Brennan pointed towards the stairs.
"Oh."
"Have you been drunk before?" Brennan questioned, quietly amused.
"Pfft. This is not a big deal," Taylor said. "I walked back, didn't I?"
"That was mostly level," Brennan pointed out.
"I will be fine," Taylor insisted, waving him off.
For the first three steps he was. But then he wavered backwards dangerously, mildly surprised to feel firm hands on his back.
"I've got you," Brennan said. He moved up beside Taylor carefully, looping Taylor's arm over his shoulders.
They moved up the rest of the stairs slowly and Brennan edged them into Taylor's room.
He sat Taylor on the edge of his bed.
"I'll be right back."
Taylor nodded at that, kicking off his shoes and struggling out of his shirt. He'd managed to open his jeans when Brennan returned, glass of water in hand.
"Aspirin," Brennan said, offering him two small pills as well.
"Why do you have aspirin?" Taylor mumbled.
"Came in my human kit," Brennan said, offering the pills again.
Taylor wasn't sure if he was kidding, shooting him a quick glare anyways.
Brennan just laughed at him though.
"Take these and drink this and I'll let you go to sleep."
Seems reasonable Taylor mused.
He held his palm open for the aspirin, tossing them both into his mouth and reaching for the water.
Brennan took the glass back when he was done, smiling again.
"Goodnight."
Taylor hummed again before falling backwards.
His feet were lifted into bed and the covers were tugged over him, patted down.
Taylor found himself smiling as the door clicked closed.
There was another cup of water on sitting on the nightstand when he blinked his eyes open.
Taylor regarded it a while before rolling over and going back to sleep.
When he woke again there was a persistent ache in his gut that pushed him out of bed.
It was a few minutes before he made his way down to the kitchen, passing Brennan at the table.
He glanced up from his laptop, offering a smile.
"How do you feel?"
"Sleepy," Taylor admitted. "Time 's it?"
"Nearly three."
"Oh," Taylor exhaled, a bit shocked. "Is there food?"
"I can make toast."
"Toast."
"Yeah I can't cook," Brennan admitted, glancing back to the screen and typing something before closing it.
"I cook," Taylor said, pushing from the chair slowly and moving for the fridge. "What do you have?"
"Uh," was all Brennan offered before, "I can go get some supplies."
"You have eggs," Taylor told him, glancing past the open fridge door.
"And water."
Taylor sighed.
"Okay, what can I get you?" Brennan asked, standing.
Taylor thought a few moments.
"Well a skillet," he said, "first of all. Cheese, butter, some bell peppers, maybe some mushrooms and onions too."
"Oh, is that all?"
"Shouldn't it be in your human kit?"
Brennan laughed sharply.
"You're not supposed to remember that."
"I told you I wasn't drunk." He paused. "You didn't have to take care of me."
"Maybe I wanted to."
"Yeah okay," Taylor brushed him off.
Brennan watched him a few seconds.
"I'll be back."
True to his word Brennan wasn't gone long, coming back with what looked like a reusable shopping bag over his arm.
The handle of a skillet was sticking out.
"Perfect," Taylor said, pushing away from the counter to warm the stovetop.
"I got everything," Brennan said and he sounded smug about it. He set the bag on the counter and began pulling things out. "And my mother wants to meet you."
Taylor stumbled at that, hand landing awkwardly on the burner.
He jumped in shock too late, hissing in pain.
"Fuck! Why is your stove so efficient?" he swore.
Brennan was there in the next second, grasping his wrist gently.
The skin was turning pink but Taylor thought it was more shock than anything else.
The burner really couldn't have been that hot.
"Here," Brennan said, and then Taylor's wrist was flushing with a pleasant heat as black started seeping into Brennan's hand and disappearing. Brennan moved to take his other hand too, avoiding the cast neatly.
There was more heat and a surprising amount of black.
"Better?" he questioned quietly.
"Uh. Yeah," Taylor managed.
Brennan didn't release him immediately and Taylor could feel himself blushing.
"What did you just do?"
"Nifty little werewolf trick," Brennan told him with a flash of teeth.
He gripped Taylor's cast and cracked it three times against the edge of the counter with no warning, breaking the plaster.
"Hey! Ow!" Taylor protested, even though it didn't really hurt. At all. "What," he managed blankly.
Brennan released his arm before flexing his own fingers and rolling his wrist.
"I would have done that earlier but you freaked out."
"You healed my arm," Taylor said, still unable to process it.
"I also broke it," Brennan reminded him cheerfully. He cracked the plaster further with his bare hands, easing Taylor's arm out of it. "Can I help with breakfast or did you not want me touching anything?"
Taylor gaped at him.
"Out of the kitchen?" Brennan guessed, stepping back.
Taylor reached out to grab a fistful of his shirt.
"Hey," he said, "thank you."
Brennan frowned slightly, head tilting to the left.
"I'm only trying to take care of you," he said, as if that was just common sense or something.
Taylor lost control of his body then. He must have – because he pulled Brennan closer and leaned up to kiss him.
It was barely more than a chaste press of lips but Taylor felt warm with it. Dizzy and close.
He didn't know how to react, couldn't think to.
"Okay," Brennan breathed out as they parted again, "not that I don't…appreciate that…but you know you don't owe me-right?"
Taylor blinked up at him, flush slowly seeping back out.
"Wow, don't make me feel like a whore or anything."
Brennan's jaw worked soundlessly for a moment.
"What? That is not what I meant-"
Taylor still wasn't in control of his body, shifting forward and stomping on Brennan's foot.
There was a bark of disbelieving laughter and then Brennan stared at him before leaning down to grasp his foot.
Taylor was a bit in shock too.
Did he really just do that?
"I was only," Brennan gritted, "saying. You don't owe me. For healing you."
"I know that," Taylor huffed, pushing at him. "Get off me."
He was hot with embarrassment now, wanting Brennan to just go. Quietly.
"You weren't complaining a second ago, when you pulled me back and kissed me."
"You just healed my broken arm!" Taylor protested, arms crossing over his chest.
"Ha! You do feel like you owe me," Brennan smiled a split second, still looking pleased when his mouth relaxed.
"I do not I just – wanted to." He sighed internally. God, that sounded lame.
Just because Brennan was nice to him?
Not desperate for attention at all.
"And now I don't," he said, half reminding himself, making shooing motions with both hands.
"At least you're still talking," Brennan mused. "That's an improvement."
"I have a skillet," Taylor reminded him, face still far too hot.
Brennan was smirking at him again.
"I'll leave you and your skillet alone then."
And Taylor was finally alone again, still wondering over his life.