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.
He chuckled, although he felt suddenly very awkward. They had literally just made out, pretty hardcore if you asked him, and were literally kicked out of their booth and forced to fight the inevitable tension. Or maybe it was just Stiles.
“I-I liked it, actually.” He wanted to slap himself across the face. Could he not stutter for once? His hand was still holding onto his shirt, and he slipped it over his head, hoping his blush wasn’t seen through the flashing lights of the club and slight darkness to the area.
She drew back, gaze sliding down, then back up to his face. “I, uh. Me too. A lot.” It looked like maybe he was blushing as he pulled his shirt back on. “Look, you want to — you want to get some coffee or something, get out of here?”
He still felt slightly drunk from the three martinis or whatever the hell he had gulped down, but he felt wide awake enough to do something like getting coffee. “Sure, yeah. You can’t get in trouble for walking into a coffee shop drunk, right? Just- Just checking.”
Summer’s smile was a little crooked. “Only for driving drunk. I’m not drunk, so it’s fine, if there’s driving I’ll do it. But there’s a coffeeshop around the next block, right?” Putting a hand lightly to his shoulder, she steered Stiles out of the bar and into the night.