Work Text:
Inspired by this fanvid.
When Mason had suggested going to Sinema, Liam’s immediate response had been “hell no”. Maybe he was a strange kid, hell he knew that he was, but he wasn’t big on the club scene, especially clubs that catered to Mason’s specific leanings. Don’t get him wrong, he wasn’t a homophobe by any stretch of the imagination. Live and let live was his motto and as the first person Mason had come out to, he supported his bff 100% but he simply was not in the mood to be hit on. Assuming anyone even hit on him. He didn’t know which prospect was worse: having to turn away unwanted suitors or having no one make so much as a casual pass at him the entire night. He didn’t consider himself an egotist and knew that he was marginally attractive – or so Mason assured him on the rare occasion that he asked – but considering that he hadn’t had a girl be interested in him in God knew how long, and gay guys were supposedly even more…selective, being completely ignored by the club patrons was a real, self esteem-crushing possibility. It probably didn’t make sense that he’d feel rejected if no one noticed him but there it was: a scary truth.
So it was with more than a little trepidation that he found himself walking into the club beside his friend, his hackles raised even higher after their brief encounter with Hayden. Would she ever forgive him?, he wondered absently as he glanced around at his surroundings. He’d been a stupid kid back then, had apologized profusely a million times and he didn’t think what he’d done had been so bad, not bad enough to warrant holding a lifetime grudge against him. Then again, maybe it was. Everyone’s tolerance for bullshit was different. He of all people knew that.
Sinema was a dream, if, you know, you dreamt about that kind of thing. Scantily clad go-go dancers, bright strobe lights and lots and lots of pretty guys. Well…people, actually.
“We don’t look old enough to be here,” he commented, noticing that everyone else looked at least college age.
“Neither does he,” Mason retorted, catching Liam’s attention.
Following Mason’s gaze, he was stunned to see Brett across the room on an elevated platform dancing with a girl. Against his will, his eyes followed Brett’s hands as they moved along the girl’s gyrating body.
“So is this club mixed?” he heard himself asking, eyes still glued to Brett.
Just then, Brett released the girl and turned around, wrapping his arms around a new partner. This time Liam almost choked on a gasp when he saw Brett grinding against a half-naked guy.
“-ish,” Mason replied, an obvious smile in his voice.
Liam cast a brief glance at the back of Mason’s head before looking back at Brett, seeing him through his friend’s eyes. That Mason had a crush on Brett was no secret. They even occasionally joked about it. It wasn’t a serious infatuation as they barely knew each other but assuming that Brett was bisexual and not just one of those try-anything types, Mason was probably thinking that Christmas had come early. He would never actually make a move on Brett since, despite his confidence, his experience was as minimal as Liam’s and he wasn’t the type to throw himself at others but knowing that Brett was interested in guys – as well as girls – at least opened the door for him. Even if nothing else happened, the night was already a minor success.
“Let’s get something to drink,” Mason suggested and began making his way to the bar, leaving Liam to trail behind him.
After their business at the bar, during which Liam thought they would be kicked out until Mason schmoozed the bartender, they stood off to the side watching the dancers do their thing. Liam wasn’t much of a dancer, had sworn never to even attempt it again after a painfully embarrassing experience at a party while he was still at Devenford, but he could see Mason itching to join in, watching him sway to the music as his eyes roved the crowd.
“See anything you like?” he asked conversationally.
“You mean besides the obvious?” Mason replied cheekily.
Liam rolled his eyes. “Yes, besides that asshole.”
Mason cast him a sideways glance. “Asshole? I thought we were friends now. Friends who traipse through the woods together in the middle of the night are supposed to stay together.”
“I don’t know if he and I can ever be friends.”
“Why not?” Mason queried, turning towards him with interest. “Looks to me like this…whatever it is is kinda one-sided. He seems to have gotten over it, or at least forgiven you in any event. Isn’t it time you do the same?”
Liam frowned into his cup. Mason had a point. Ever since their second game with Devenford, Brett had been…well, nice might be a stretch but at least not a hate-filled bastard towards him. And he had accompanied them to the woods just days before. Brett respected Scott and as such, he was being helpful to his pack. An ally even. As Scott’s one and only beta, Liam became part and parcel of that helpfulness. It didn’t mean that Brett had forgiven him, though. It didn’t automatically erase the animosity between them.
“He’s probably just being nice because of Scott,” he said, giving voice to his thoughts. “Scott saved his pack and he respects him so he’s leaving me alone. For the time being,” he couldn’t resist adding.
“Maybe,” Mason said, giving it some thought. “Or maybe he’s just not mad anymore. Some people are capable of letting things go, Liam. You should give it a try sometime. Now if you’ll excuse me…” He drained his cup in one long gulp. “You’re killing my buzz.” Giving his wingman a hearty pat on the shoulder, Mason disappeared into the crowd.
For a split-second, anxiety gripped Liam, his eyes frantically scanning the sea of bodies for his friend. He didn’t want to infringe on Mason’s fun but he’d feel better if he could at least keep an eye on him. You never knew what new creature was going to creep out of the woodworks, especially with the recent craziness.
However, he forced himself to relax. They were at a club, for crying out loud. There was no way anything supernatural was going to risk exposing itself to such a large crowd. He hoped.
After standing off to the side for a while, without so much as one request to dance, he chugged down the remainder of his now lukewarm drink and decided to make his way back to the bar for a refill. Now that he was supernatural himself, alcohol no longer affected him the way it should. That was one of the many things he missed about being normal. Human. At least if he could get drunk, he wouldn’t be able to drive himself crazy thinking so damn much. Or feeling rejected.
“I’ll never make enough,” he heard a familiar voice whisper forlornly, eyes immediately locking onto Hayden as she passed by. He briefly wondered what she meant, what she could possibly need money for, but he let the thought go. What was the point? It wasn’t like she would tell him if he asked.
Sighing, he fixed his eyes on the bar and bee-lined towards it, praying that they had cheap drinks because Mason had bought the first round and he only had a few bills to his name.
Speaking of, he thought, pausing for a minute to glance around. The tension drained from his shoulders as he caught sight of Mason in one of the seating alcoves chatting with Brett. He seemed to be having a good time if the blissful expression on his face was anything to go by. Liam couldn’t resist the answering smile that tugged at his lips.
Resuming his mission, he skirted around a too-enthusiastically grooving body to avoid a collision but as he did so, he bumped into someone else, an apology immediately coming to the tip of his tongue until he saw who it was.
“Shit,” he swore beneath his breath, taking in the spilled and broken tubes on her tray and the floor.
“Are you kidding me?” she snapped. “Those were ten dollars each.”
“Sorry,” he said in a rush, immediately knowing that it wasn’t going to be enough.
“The bartender isn’t just going to refill them for me,” she continued, compounding his guilt.
“O-okay, I’ve got money. Um…uh…” He dug into his pockets, pulling out what little he had but of course, it didn’t even begin to make a dent in what he’d just cost her. “Twelve dollars and change,” he announced holding his palms out to her, his expression slightly hopeful. If she had a soul, even an ounce of forgiveness and understanding, now would be the time for it to surface.
Barely glancing at his pitiful offering, she snatched the money out of his hand with an offended huff. “You still owe me two hundred,” she groused.
As she began to turn away, she threw the change back at him. The audacity!
Whatever levity he’d felt at the sight of his friend enjoying himself had been sucked dry by his encounter with Hayden. Would she ever forgive him? Because he was seriously tired of being treated and feeling like crap.
Unable to purchase his drink now, and not wanting to be there any longer, he started making his way to where he’d last seen his friend. He felt bad for even considering it but now that Mason was with Brett, maybe he’d take pity on Liam and let him go home. He didn’t even need a ride, he could run home in five minutes flat. The brisk, night air might do wonders for clearing his head.
When he got to the alcove, however, Mason and Brett were nowhere to be found.
Forehead creasing in a frown, Liam looked around worriedly.
Nothing was amiss, he assured himself, rolling his shoulders when the tension threatened to increase. They had probably just slunk off to a dark corner to make out or something. Good for Mason. He deserved it. At least one of them was getting some. Heaven knew it had been ages since anyone had touched him. Besides himself, naturally.
“What’s new, pussycat?” a sultry voice whispered in his ear, breath fanning his neck and making him jump.
He spun around to find Brett smirking down at him.
Forehead-crease deepening, he dug his nails into his palms and forced his racing heart to slow down. He wouldn’t give the bugger the satisfaction of knowing he’d caught him off guard.
“Where’s Mason?” he asked brusquely, getting straight to the point.
“Why?” Brett inquired, cocking his head to the side. “You feeling lonely, Liam? Anything I can help you with?”
“Where is he?” he repeated, his voice dropping to a low growl.
“He had to use the bathroom, geez.” Taking him in, Brett’s expression tuned serious. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” he muttered, looking away. Brett’s gaze was far too penetrating, like he could see inside his soul with those damn blue eyes of his. It was unnerving.
“Hey.” Strong but gentle fingers cupped his chin, forcing him to meet Brett’s eyes once more. “Are you okay?”
Liam closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before opening them again. “I’m fine. Really.”
Brett looked unconvinced but he dropped his hand, for which Liam was thankful. It was bad enough that he could still feel the warm imprint of his fingers.
“You’re far too tense for someone who’s supposed to be having a night on the town,” Brett said casually.
Liam scoffed. “I’d hardly call Sinema a night on the town.”
“What would you consider a night on the town then?” Brett asked, looking genuinely curious.
Liam could feel a strange heat filling his cheeks. He didn’t have an answer and he was pretty sure that Brett knew it. They were both aware of how much of a loser he was.
“Wanna get a drink?” Brett asked, changing the topic when it became obvious that he wasn’t going to get a response.
This time Liam’s blush was one of embarrassment. He would die before he admitted to Brett that he literally only had cents to his name.
So instead, he said, “What’s the point? We can’t get drunk anyway.”
At that, a wicked smile curved Brett’s lips and he reached into his pockets, pulling something out that he held in a closed fist.
“Open your mouth.”
What?
“What?”
“Just open your mouth,” Brett repeated, exasperated.
When Liam continued to stare up at him uncomprehendingly, Brett asked, “Don’t you trust me, Liam?”
The challenge in his words was unmistakable but what surprised Liam was the fact that he did trust Brett.
He trusted him not to kill him, at least, if for no other reason than Brett had a healthy respect for, and probably fear of, Scott.
Warily, he parted his lips, opening his mouth in a small, rounded O.
“Lift your tongue,” Brett ordered.
When he complied, Brett brought the mystery hand up and placed something small and hard beneath his tongue.
“Close your mouth. It should only take a minute.”
“What is that?” Liam queried, a bit unnerved by the slight fizzing he felt in the spot. A bit late to be asking that, genius, he berated himself.
“Don’t worry, it’s not a drug or anything. I don’t know if Scott told you this but drugs, like alcohol, don’t have any effect on us. Well…not human drugs anyway,” Brett added, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously.
“What the hell did you give me?” Liam demanded, legitimate fear raising the hair on his arms.
“Calm down,” Brett said firmly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It’s just something one of my pack brothers cooked up in the lab where he works. It’s a little wolfsbane blend. It won’t kill you, just make you a little tipsy. No different than the effect of alcohol on a human’s nervous system. You feel it already, don’t you?”
He did, actually. It was like his anxiety was slowly trickling away, being replaced by a warm, soothing feeling. Like a hug, but from the inside.
“Wanna dance?” Brett asked.
Liam’s cheeks heated up again. God, what the hell was wrong with him?
“I don’t…dance. I’m not very good at it,” he admitted, dropping his gaze.
“That’s okay. I’ll teach you.”
The next thing he knew, Brett had grabbed his hand and was pulling him onto the dance floor.
It was on the tip of his tongue to protest, to insist that he’d rather just wait in a quiet corner for Mason to come back – what the hell was taking him so long, by the way? – and then leave but he allowed himself to be dragged along and didn’t pull away when Brett placed his hands on his hips and started guiding him.
It was strange, being this close to a guy, pressed up against him. Not that he had much experience being pressed up against the opposite sex but he had danced with girls in the past. Brett lacked the softness he was used to. He was solid, hard muscle from head to toe. It wasn’t unpleasant, though. Not so long as he didn’t look into those damn crystalline blue eyes that saw far too much.
He let himself be led, swaying to the beat as best he could beneath Brett’s reassuring hands and before long, he found himself in a Brett-Mason sandwich. A giggle rose up in his throat and he suppressed it, swallowing it back down. Damn, that wolfsbane was some good shit.
At some point he found himself turned around, facing Mason with Brett at his back. The beat was thumping far too loud and quick for the kind of dancing they were doing but he didn’t mind. Mason looked high as a kite, a youthful joyfulness splitting his lips wide. Liam grinned at him in return, genuine happiness for his friend coursing through his veins, making him feel even lighter than he already was. Mason deserved some fun.
If he was pressed a little too closely against Brett, held there by the arm Brett had wrapped around his waist, he didn’t think anything of it. If Brett’s fingers had snuck beneath the hem of his shirt and was idly stroking the taut flesh of his stomach then he thought nothing of that either. And if there was something unmistakably firm and uniquely shaped pressed into the small of his back, then that was simply the physiological result to friction. Brett was a young, red-blooded male, after all. He couldn’t be held responsible for his body’s reaction.
Besides, it wasn’t Liam’s mouth that he was currently devouring.
He had somehow missed when they started kissing, Brett pressing closer against his back as he leaned over his shoulder to meet Mason’s lips, but his eyes were glued to them now, a fist pressed to his own lips to hold in the giggle-fit that threatened to burst forth.
This heightened sense of elation was unchartered territory for him and he wasn’t sure that he altogether liked how out of control of his body, his emotions, he felt but being a little giggly was a much more pleasant side-effect than most drugs offered so he’d take it.
Closing his eyes, he pressed back against Brett, humming when Brett’s hand tightened around him.
So warm, he thought. Caged in from the front and back by people who cared about him, people he cared about. It made him feel protected and…maybe even loved.
It was nice.
The first thing Liam became aware of when he woke up was the pounding behind his eyes.
His brain felt like it was about to explode.
Groaning softly, he curled into himself and buried his face in his pillow.
The responding arm tightening around his middle had his eyes flying open.
What the…
Glancing down, he saw a long, tanned arm with short blond body-hair and the unmistakably long, veiny fingers of a man.
Oh, God. Did he bring someone home? He couldn’t remember. Why couldn’t he remember? There was no way Mason…
An image flashed through his mind of the three of them stumbling out of the club together. He’d been giggling, which was so unlike him, and Brett had literally been holding him up as Mason led the way to his mom’s car, which he’d borrowed for the night.
“Thanks for coming with me,” he remembered Mason saying. “I don’t think I could get him inside on my own. Not in that state.”
“No problem. It’s my fault anyway.”
And then it fizzled out.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to hold onto the memory, to follow it throughout the rest of their journey home and beyond but he couldn’t. He’d been so out of it by that point. The wolfsbane had done a number on him.
He glanced down at the arm again, realizing at once that it couldn’t be Mason’s so that could only mean…
Bracing himself, he turned his neck as far as it would go and looked over his shoulder. He needn’t have bothered, though, for as big as he was, Brett’s hulking mass was unmistakable and right then, he was pressed up tightly against Liam. He was sharing Liam’s pillow, actually: eyes closed, mouth softly parted in sleep. Liam couldn’t help noticing that his features were even more striking in repose than when he was awake, if that were at all possible.
On the other side of Brett was Mason, also deeply asleep. A sense of relief flowed through him when he saw that his best friend had not in fact abandoned him to the whims and fancies of the big, bad wolf however it was fleeting as on the heels of that thought came the realization that whatever had happened, whatever they’d done, it had occurred among the three of them.
He had, possibly, slept with his best friend.
“Oh my God,” he gasped, chest tightening as his breathing quickened.
He flung Brett’s arm off and shifted to a sitting position, burying his face in his hands as more flashes came back to him.
He had a vague memory of inviting the boys to spend the night.
“My dad’s gone to a conference for the weekend and mom went with him so they’d have some alone time. I have the whole house to myself so…You can stay over, if you like.”
On the heels of that was the distinct memory of his neck being kissed, sucked, and his hand flew to the spot. The mark would be gone now, his werewolf healing having erased all traces of it, but he could still feel the tingling warmth that had flowed from it.
He remembered watching Brett and Mason on his bed making out, giggling all the while at their playful antics. He’d stopped giggling, though, when clothes stated coming off. Then, he’d continued watching, completely enraptured by the frenzy with which they attacked each other. Until, that was, Brett stopped and turned his attention on him.
A barrage of images came at him then. A multi-tone landscape of bare, hard flesh; hands gliding greedily over skin; turgid manhoods being stroked, oh my God.
He was going to be sick.
Hand over his mouth, he raced out of his room and down the hall to the bathroom, barely managing to put the toilet seat up before he emptied the contents of his stomach.
He didn’t bother to get up and rinse his mouth. He didn’t have the strength for it. He simply slid to the ground, leaning heavily against the side of the toilet bowl.
What had he done? What had they done? What had they done to each other?
Despite bits and pieces coming back, he still didn’t have the whole picture. The strongest image of all was looking up into Brett’s face, Liam’s arms wrapped loosely around his neck, and Brett looking down at him with a strange, unreadable intensity. He remembered laughing, saying “why so serious” in his best Joker voice, but instead of replying, Brett had simply kissed him. Softly, sweetly, in a way he’d never imagined being kissed. He’d kissed him like he’d been passing on a message or sharing a secret but Liam had simply been too inebriated to decode it. Try as he might, even now, he was still at a loss.
One thing he couldn’t remember doing was kissing or touching Mason and he thought that that was a good sign. No matter how out of it they may have been, he couldn’t imagine either of them crossing that line. They’d seen each other naked before, as most guy friends have, and there’d been one time, long ago, where they’d had one session of simultaneous masturbation while watching porn, a year or so before Mason had come out, but they’d kept their business in their pants, away from each other’s eyes. Mason had later assured him that he wasn’t personally attracted to him and never would be and Liam believed him. Besides, why would Mason waste his time on Liam when he was literally sharing a bed with the guy of his dreams? Only a fool would pass up that opportunity.
So he hadn’t had sex with his best friend, he thought with an erratic nod, but he’d still done something. With Brett.
“Liam?”
“Don’t come in here!” he yelled, not realizing he’d spoken until he heard the raw croakiness of his own voice. He should’ve locked the damn door.
He wasn’t surprised when Brett appeared in the doorway, leaning against the door-jamb, arms folded across his chest.
“Are you okay?”
He was so fucking tired of people asking him that. No, he was not okay!
“Do I look okay?” he snapped, eyes looking everywhere but at Brett.
He heard Brett move from the doorway and allowed his eyes to flit back to him briefly as he hunkered down in front of Liam.
“What’s wrong?” Brett asked, his voice surprisingly gentle, as if he was talking to a skittish animal.
“I…” What could he say? He didn’t know what was wrong because… “I don’t remember. Last night. I don’t remember any of it.” That wasn’t entirely true but he wasn’t going to cop to remembering Brett kissing him like a dying man when he couldn’t remember anything else.
Brett’s brow creased in a frown. “None of it?”
Liam shook his head. “I don’t even remember getting home.”
“I see.”
“Liam?”
Liam shrunk back against the cold porcelain of the toilet when Mason appeared in the doorway behind Brett. Mason looked thoroughly debauched, his hair standing up in tufts and a smattering of deep bruises on his neck and collarbone.
It suddenly struck Liam that they’d all been clad in their underwear when he’d woken up. A small mercy, he supposed, since the last thing he’d have wanted or needed to see mid-freakout was a pair of dongs that didn’t belong to him.
Not that he had more than one dong.
God, he was tired. His thoughts didn’t even make sense anymore.
“Li? You okay?” Mason asked, sounding concerned.
“He doesn’t remember,” Brett supplied helpfully. “It’s my fault. It didn't occur to me last night but the wolfsbane dosage was probably too high since my bro specifically calibrated it for someone my size and Liam is considerably smaller.”
“Thanks,” Liam muttered grumpily. The last thing he needed was to be reminded of what a puny runt he was. Why didn’t they just go away and leave him in peace to finish having his meltdown?
“It should wear off in a few hours,” Brett assured him.
“Good,” Mason said, sounding uncomfortable. Even his weak human senses could feel the tension in the room, Liam supposed.
“Why don’t you come back to bed and I’ll make us all breakfast?” Brett suggested, offering him a small smile.
“No!” Liam shouted, immediately horrified at the thought of going back to his room where…those things had occurred. He didn’t know if he could even sleep in his bed again, what with it having been defiled and tainted by copious amounts of man-juice.
Good, God, someone put him out of his misery. His thoughts were going to kill him.
“Li…” Mason crouched at his feet, reaching out to place a hand on his stretched-out leg but Liam snatched his leg back.
“Don’t,” he said, embarrassed by the plea he heard in his voice. What the hell was going on with him? This was Mason, his best friend. He’d never not wanted Mason to touch him. Not until today.
He saw Mason and Brett exchange a glance, a worried frown settling between Mason’s brows.
“Liam,” Mason began, noticeably keeping his tone light and neutral. It reminded Liam of the way Brett had approached him, like he was a frightened animal who needed to be traded upon lightly.
It was mortifying. He’d never felt vulnerable, fragile, before today. He’d never felt so weak.
“Liam, we need to talk about this,” Mason continued. “We can help you fill in the blanks and sort through whatever it is you’re feeling right now.”
He knew that Mason was right but the fact was that he couldn’t look him, either of them, in the face right now. He honestly didn’t want to. He just wanted some time to clear his head, to sort out the cobwebs, to think. He couldn’t do that with them staring at him.
“I don’t want to talk,” he finally said. “I want…”
They waited for him to continue and he could see the anxiousness in their faces as they did but he couldn’t. His mind was so hazy…
The word triggered another memory.
He was in Brett’s arms, their chests pressed flush against each other. Mason had disappeared again so he knew that they were alone. Or at least he wasn’t aware of anything outside of their bubble. He was looking up into Brett’s eyes – damn, his eyes were pretty – and Brett was gazing down at him like he was the world, his world. Somewhere in the back ground a song was playing.
♪Bittersweet baby,
Summertime save me,
Party day hazy,
Oh baby.
I’m craving, I’m craving, I crave you.♪
“Liam?” Brett’s voice broke him out of his reverie. “What do you want?”
What do I want? What do I want? I want to go back to last night and not take that damn wolfsbane. I want to not invite you into my home, my bed, my mind. I want to forget the way you looked at me, the way you’re looking at me right now. I want you to stop looking at me that way. I want to know what you want from me because whatever it is, I can’t give it to you.
Dropping his gaze to his tightly clasped hands where they lay on his lap, he whispered, “I want you both to go. Please.”
He didn’t look at either of them and neither one said anything. After a minute of silence, they left the room and he stayed where he was, not so much as twitching until he heard Mason’s car drive off. Then and only then did he allow himself to release the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
Jesus, his life was a mess.
Despite the fact that he’d practically kicked his best friend out of his house, he knew that he and Mason would be okay. Nothing and no one could ever come between them. He was sure that by the end of the day, he’d be on the phone begging Mason’s forgiveness and Mason would gladly give it because he was an awesome bro and understood that Liam was dealing with some shit.
Brett, on the other hand… A few hours ago, their relationship, such as it was, had been neatly defined. It had been tolerable…acceptable. Now, however, it was one huge clusterfuck that he didn’t even know how to begin to unravel.
Mason was right: talking would help him remember and once he did, he would be able to sort things out. The fogginess would clear and he’d feel like himself again. The problem with remembering was that once the memories came back, he couldn’t un-remember them. They’d be there for him to tap into whenever he wanted to, like the glutton for punishment that he was. And the truth was, with the way he felt just then, he was afraid. Because once that door was opened, there’d be no closing it.
And he was terrified that he would find out that maybe he wasn’t as confused as he thought he was.