Second Chances (Brett Talbot)

Awkwardness

"I didn't realize the back of her head was bleeding," a voice says."It must have been when Violet flipped her over onto the ground in the locker room,"

"It might have been when I pushed her over," another voice replies.

"I doubt that, but I think when she saw Deaton cut you open, that was the last straw cause she passed out right after that," the first voice says.

My head pounds and my eyes feel glued shut. "Liam," I mumble my brother's name. I want my brother. Liam was always the sibling with better endurance to pain. Whenever I got hurt badly he was always there to comfort me.

"Did she just say something?" The second voice asks.

"Yeah, I think she might be waking up," the first voice spoke up.

I pry my eyes open and squint in the bright light. My head throbs and I groan. Once my eyes adjust to the light I see I'm laying on the ground with some blankets underneath me for padding and a blanket on top of me. My head is propped up with another blanket. I look up to see Stiles sitting in a chair next to me and Brett sitting on the metal table - with no shirt on I might add.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty," Stiles says with a grin. "You scared us a hell of a lot when you feinted last night. We didn't know what happened."

I blink up at him in confusion and reach up to my head, feeling a bandage wrapped around it.

"You must have hit your head," Stiles explains.

"Yeah, I heard you guys just talking about that," I mumble. "I agree with whoever said that it was when Violet flipped me. I remember my head hitting the ground there."

I sit up slowly, wincing at the pain in my head. It feels like someone is playing basketball with it. The rhythmic pulse feels like someone is constantly bouncing my head on the floor over and over again.

"Do I have a concussion?" I ask.

"Luckily no, you don't," Stiles says. "You just bumped it pretty hard."

"Is this what a hangover feels like cause honestly if it is this will keep me dry for the rest of my life," I mutter.

Stiles smiles at me, and I hear Brett laughing from the table.

"You're missing the nausea and the overall disgusting feeling of waking up with vomit all over your shirt," Brett comments with his mouth slightly upturned.

"How would you know?" I mutter. "Werewolves can't get drunk."

"I'm gonna go tell Deaton that you're awake," Stiles says getting up and walking out of the room to the office. I frown and glance at Brett.

I don't want to be left in a room alone with him.

He pushes himself off the table and sits down in the chair that Stiles was just sitting. "How are you feeling?" he asks me.

What? No snide remarks? No creepy innuendos? Not even a simple, "was it my gorgeous looks that made you feint?" comment?

"Huh?" I sputter out.

A smile qwerks at the edge of his mouth. "How is your head?"

"Still on my shoulders," I deadpan.

He smirks and rolls his eyes at me. He looks at me for a second and then frowns again. "I just want to say I'm sorry for scaring you," he says.

"What do you mean?" I ask, still in shock at this normal conversation we are having.

"When I couldn't control myself," he mutters, looking at the floor and wringing his hands. "It looked like I was going to attack you- I was going to attack you." I can hear the guilt in his voice. "If Peter hadn't stopped me..."