stiles stilinski.

Stiles couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten drunk, at least not to this extent, and he couldn’t deny how much he enjoyed the simplicity of it. The voices and emotions he was often weighed down by, as Rose herself went on to point out, had blurred together and been supressed into his subconscious, allowing him to truly focus. And as the hand found his face, that’s exactly where Stiles’ direction diverted, blinded to everything but her. His breath caught in his throat, overcome by the intensity of it, the music numbing to nothing more than a dull vibration in his ears. His movements slowed, their swaying progressively coming to a stop, and Stiles gaze didn’t leave Rose’s, hanging on to her every word. “Yeah, yeah. I can feel it.” The playful tone disappeared from his voice, and his stomach formed a knot he didn’t have the sobriety to understand, one which caused his face to edge closer. Usually, he’d have been overcome with anxiety, stammering with a thousand questions, but the alcohol allowed him to settle into the physical touch. It softened the noise that so often held him back. “I can feel… us.” Whatever us meant, Stiles knew he wanted to delve further into it, the hand he’d slipped around her waist remaining there, gripping onto the fabric of her top. In his current state, he didn’t have to question his actions, or hers. It just made sense. “It feels good.”

“Waiting for a worthy dance partner, obviously,” she grinned in return, relieved he’d been so enthusiastic. Some people she’d approached had all but shoved her off. Boring jerks. “But I think I’ve just found the one. I like your moves, Stilinski!” She shouted over the music. He was all over the place and Rose loved it. It was exactly what she needed right then, someone to fill the hours with and not take anything seriously. She was desperate to stop thinking. “Right?! The only thing that’s shaking now is that ass.” Laughing, she reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him toward her so they could sway together. “I love this song. I love all of these songs!”

“I know, right? I’m a total dance pro. Totally missed my calling,” Stiles grinned, shuffling with a confidence he would never wear if he was sober. But this was exactly what nightclubs were all about, apparently, and it hadn’t taken Stiles long to adjust to the fast paced energy as soon as he’d taken a few shots. His only regret was starting his night alone, and not finding Rose sooner. “Well then shake it with me!” Stiles allowed Rose to guide him closer, the hand that she’d held a moment ago sliding around her waist, instead. He was too far gone to be nervous about the intimacy, and it wasn’t as if he and Rose hadn’t been close before. They’d just never danced. He found himself liking it, it felt natural, and fun. Something both of them had lacked the last few years. “You look pretty!” He commented, pulling back enough to see her face. “Pretty drunk.”

“Hey, you — come dance with me!”

Stiles hadn’t intended to get drunk. In fact, he hadn’t even intended to visit the nightclub, let alone get lost in it. But as he'd passed the building by, he'd noticed how loud the music was, overpowering the array of voices in his mind. As he'd began to drink, the alcohol numbed his connection to his pack, freeing him from the burden of their emotions. So, after a few beers, and a few shots, here he was, throwing his hands up in the air and actually enjoying himself.