thenogitsuneandstiles-deactivat:
Stiles was slammed against the wall, the fiery red headed girl he didn’t even know the name of smashing her lips to his. How had he ended up here? He didn’t know. He remembered being angry that Lydia had dissed him (once again) and walking into a bar, talking to a cute girl, they had danced after a few drinks…
And now he was up against a wall, their bodies pressed together, lips molding into each others and somehow, he loved it. Because he wasn’t worrying, or even caring frankly, about the other red head who had consumed him. Right now, at least, he probably wouldn’t know who she was if she walked up to him.
She cocked an eyebrow at the headshake. “What? You don’t want coffee?” The air was noticeably cooler outside the crowded atmosphere of the bar. Feeling a little awkward, she dropped her hand from Stiles’ shoulder and tucked them together behind her back. “I mean, we don’t have to do coffee … I don’t really … “
He scoffed, a grin on his lips. “Of course I want coffee. Who doesn’t want coffee?” He opened the door to the small shop, seeing absolutely nobody in there except for one person working, a tired expression to the barista’s looks. “What do you want? Cappuccino, latte..?”
“I … actually don’t drink coffee. Caffeine doesn’t work on me. But hot chocolate’s fine.” She offered a smile to the barista, hoping to make their day a little better, and found a little table to sit at. Her head still buzzed a little from the music in the bar — or was that from Stiles and the way he responded to her kisses?
Fuck, he was hot. Even half-drunk and obviously nervous, he was gorgeous. “I wonder what it would be like if we were sober,” she mumbled.