Teen Wolf Imagines

Temporary Guardian - Brett

You mindlessly giggled as Brett guided you up the stairs of the unfamiliar house. Scott had made it Brett's mission to keep an eye on you while you were out at a party. He had a lacrosse game he couldn't bail out on, and as much as he wanted to advise you not to go to the party, he knew you wouldn't listen. You were the 'troubled child'. You snuck out to parties even when your mom forbid it, you ended yourself up at the sheriff department a time or two, and you were notorious for your 'drinking problem' which to you, wasn't much of a problem. Your mom took a shot in the dark and guessed it had to do something with the divorce your parents went through a few years ago. Scott was able to handle your dad not being around as much a lot better than you did, and after awhile, you kind of just shut reality out of your life hence the frequent partying and trouble-making.

"Such a nice boy," you chuckled, your hands reaching up to run your finger through Brett's hair, but he repeatedly dodged your attempts. You looked up at him with happy eyes, but he just focused on finding a room. "My brother would like you. Have you met my brother?"

He sighed, "Yes, and unfortunately he's not paying me enough to do this."

You responded with a giggle, tripping over your feet for the umpteenth time.

Despite having met Brett (who was your crush of a good three months) on several occasions, drunk you literally had no memory. Since you'd gotten drunk on several occasions, you had experienced forgetting exactly where your house was, failing to recall how to walk, and not remembering people you've spent your entire life with. Yet, you found yourself intoxicated weekend after weekend.

Brett reached a plain white door and opened it, it being the first room he found that wasn't a bathroom or taken by hormonal teenagers. He let you find yourself to the bed which you flopped onto the moment you were within arms length.

Your floral skirt rose up to the middle of your thighs as your feet hung over the edge of the bed. Your consistent giggling turned into loud laughing and then died down again.

You sat up, patting the empty spot next to you before flipping your hair over your shoulder. "Come sit."

And Brett did so, hesitantly. He took a seat next to you and you scooted over until the material of your skirt was pressed against his jeans. He wasn't paying any attention to you. He was too busy observing the room around him.

"Hey," you spoke softly.His head snapped in your direction.

You moved to straddle him, pushing him back until he was laying down. Your hands crept up his t-shirt covered torso, and you leaned up to kiss him. He stopped you, however. His hands pressed against your shoulders as gently as possible.

You frowned, "Don't you wanna kiss me?"

Brett was at loss for words, trying to grasp everything that had happened in the last two minutes of his life.

You pushed yourself off him, the embarrassment sobering you up a bit. Your cheeks burned red with humiliation splattered across them.

"I knew it," you pouted as tears filled your eyes. Being drunk happened to make you very emotional and tonight nothing was stopping you from letting those emotions free. "You're just like my brother and my mom and my dad. You don't want me."

Brett, who was still quite confused, sat up and reached his hand out to pat your shoulder in the most condoling way. "That's not true," he spoke, but his tone came out in a questioning one.

You turned to look at him and it was then that he noticed that it wasn't only your intoxication talking. Drunk lies were sober truths, but everything you were saying and that you were going to say was absolutely, one-hundred percent how you felt. The few tears that had traveled down your face weren't going to just wash over to the pure look of happiness.

"Scott, my brother-" you sniffled, still completely oblivious to Scott sending Brett to keep an eye on you, "he practically abandoned me a few years ago, and my did the same. They're always together-hanging out, I guess-and they never let me go, like they don't want me to be anywhere near them."

He scooted closer to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. He was actually listening now as he realized this was you starting to sober up and not try to randomly kiss him.

"I'm sure they have a good reason."

You hiccuped starting to spill everything to Brett-whose name you still didn't know-who actually listened to what you were saying. You went on and on about how your brother was constantly ditch you for his friends, how your mom was always working (and if she wasn't she was always with him), and how your dad was just flat out hardly ever around.

"Look, [Y/n], I know your brother, and I know there are some thing in his life that are going on that he has to leave you out of."

"Because he doesn't love me?" you shrugged.

"Because he does love you," he sighed. You leaned your head on his shoulder. Drowsiness swept over you. "There are just some bad people in the world, and he's trying his best to keep them from hurting you, trust me."

He cringed slightly at his own reference to the Dread Doctors. He waited awhile for you to respond but you never did. Eventually he looked down to see your head sliding down his shoulder and drooping on to chest. It was only then that he noticed his arms wrapped around you. Sober you was totally going to freak tomorrow morning.