Clairvoyant || Stilinski [1]

Thirty-Five || Stupidest of Stupid Plans

|| Stupidest of Stupid Plans

     Stiles and Lydia waited four extra minutes to actually break through nerves and go into town. It was only when they reached the open market that their bickering surfaced.

     Stiles rubbed his hands together, the two stopped. "This doesn't seem so bad."

     "It's not the town, it's the plan," Lydia said, highly unwelcoming to being where she was.

     "What's wrong with the plan?"

     "Stiles. This could be the stupidest plan we've ever come up with. You're aware of that, right?"

     "I'm aware it's not our best," Stiles replied, the pair earning looks from the locals.

     Lydia was almost sure of herself, "We are going to die."

     Stiles knew they had to go on, "Are you saying that as a banshee or you're just being pessimistic?"

     "I'm saying it as a person who doesn't want to die."

     "Okay. Would you mind restricting any talk of death to actual banshee predictions?" Stiles requested, moving through the market with Lydia at his side.

     "This plan is stupid and we're going to die."

     "Oh, thank you," Stiles sarcastically retorted, running a hand over the back of his hair.

     As it got darker, they went through a maze of stands and stores until they found the steps of a building guarded by two men who weren't welcoming to their arrival.

     Lydia was the one who could speak Spanish, asking if this was where the party was.

     A guard with curly hair shook his head, doing exactly what Jacy said he would.

     Stiles pulled out the card, holding it out to them and then to a camera watching the building.

     Granted access, the door swung open. The guards moved out of their way, allowing them in.

     Standing inside, the door shut behind Stiles and Lydia like it was sealing their fate. After exchanging a look and a sigh, they continued on. There was no where else they could go.

     The lights on the walls rumbled, making the eerie feeling the hall gave off grow larger. When Stiles reached for the handle of the door, he got a nod from Lydia before pushing it open.

     Inside, a near rave was revealed. Lights were shooting around, almost everyone was wasted and half the party didn't have shirts on. The DJ was bumping music with eccentric skill, everyone on their feet and moving to the music.

     Stiles and Lydia looked severely out of place.

     "Holy shit," Stiles muttered in disbelief, his eyes towards the back of the bar.

     "Wha- oh, wow." Lydia had to stop herself from laughing. "I didn't know she had that in her."

     And without a doubt, Jacy was dancing on the bar, with another girl she didn't know.

     "Stop staring." Lydia tugged his sleeve, having to go to the opposite end of the bar like Jacy instructed.

     Two shots of vodka arrived in front of them once they got there, Stiles hesitating before reaching for his wallet.

     "No." A hand met a shoulder of both Stiles and Lydia. "On the house." The man didn't like their nonresponse. "Most American teeenagers don't cross the border to refuse a drink."