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“Lydia, are you sure they’re not too tight?” Stiles tugs on the hem of his white Henley, “I feel very exposed.”
Lydia turns to glare at him and snaps her fingers angrily, “Stop that!” She walks back towards him and slaps his hands away from the hem of his shirt, “You’re going to stretch it out.”
“Lyds, I feel so, so, so naked.” Stiles swallows nervously and winces at the slap Lydia gives his left butt cheek. “Ow! What the hell was that for?!”
Lydia squints up at him and bites out, “For doubting me.” She gestures for him to precede her towards the entrance of the bar, “Trust me, he’d have to be blind not to look. Hell, even a blind man would be hard-pressed to miss that a-”
Stiles ducks his head and smooths his hands over the front of the leather jeans, “Oh god, shut up!”
Lydia grins, reaching back to hook her arm through Stiles’. “Come on, Wallflower, let’s go get you a man.”
“Oh god, why do I let you talk me into doing these things?”
“Because you love me,” Lydia leans her head on Stiles chest, lips twisting in contemplation, “and it’s been nearly a year since you got laid?”
Stiles gapes at her, “No it hasn’t!”
Lydia narrows her gaze and arches on perfectly shaped eyebrow, “Oh really?”
“Well,” Stiles tugs on the waistband of the almost-too-tight jeans and hedges, “It hasn’t been a year.”
“Stiles, Honey.” Lydia pats his forearm, “Masturbation doesn’t count.”
Stiles sputters, his mouth opening and closing as he struggles to think of a comeback. “I haven’t only been,” he presses his lips together and mutters, “I’ll have you know that there’s been mutual orgasms, Lydia. On more than one occasion.”
Lydia smirks up at him, “Were you both in the same room?” Stiles blushes and it’s all the answer Lydia needs, “I rest my case. Now, we’re going to go in here and then when we’re at a table, you’re going to sashay that tight little ass over to the bar and flirt with the handsome bartender. Got it?”
Stiles makes a face and rolls his eyes.
“I asked you a question, Stilinski.” Lydia pinches his side. Hard.
“I got it! You, me, table and drinks; bartender flirtation followed by inevitable embarrassment. Color me excited.”
Lydia chuckles as she pays the bouncer and flicks her gaze between the door and Stiles.
Stiles reaches to pull the door open and gestures for her to step through. He smirks at her little curtsy and follows her into the bar.
The interior is dim, but not too dark. It doesn’t take Lydia very long to find a table and send him for drinks. Stiles blows out a breath and makes his way to the brightly lit bar. There, behind the marble-topped horseshoe-shaped bar is the star of Stiles’ most recent masturbatory exploits.
“Hi, can I help you?”
Stiles clears his throat, one hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck, “Um, yeah. Can I have a Dirty Martini and a…” He shoves both hands into his pockets, or rather tries to, “I have no idea. A Dark N’ Stormy, I guess?”
The bartender puts both hands on the bar top and leans towards Stiles, “Can I see some ID?”
Stiles takes a step back and scoffs, “Seriously?” His eyes widen in response to the bartender’s nod. Stiles stares at him incredulously, “You,” he looks around as if waiting for someone to tell him this is all a joke. But no one jumps out to yell ‘surprise!’ and Stiles clenches his jaw, gritting out through his teeth, “You’re carding me?”
The bartender, whose nametag reads Derek, gives him a tight smile, “No ID, no booze. Sorry, kid.”
Stiles is left speechless. He turns away from the bar and Lydia is standing right in front of him.
She lifts her chin, moving around him to slap Stiles’ driver’s license onto the marble bar, “I do believe that Stiles ordered two drinks, correct? Now, I suggest you get them, before I find your manager and ask her if it’s customary to harass two paying customers for ID when there are three high school juniors,” Lydia gestures towards one of the darkened corners of the bar, “sitting huddled over a bucket of half empty beer bottles they swiped from recently vacated tables.”
Derek looks in the direction that Lydia indicated and waves one of the bouncers over. He whispers something in his ear and within seconds the bouncer is heading towards the darkened corner.
One of the other bartenders puts their drink order on the bar and gives Lydia a smile, fingers pushing Stiles’ license back towards him, “Sorry about the mix-up. This round’s on the house. Forgive Derek. He’s new; doesn’t recognize the regulars yet.” The brunette bartender looks over her shoulder at Derek and smirks, “If he wasn’t cute, I’d have fired him last week, but he brings in the college crowd.” She turns to face them once more, “Both women and men.”
Lydia picks up her martini and takes a sip, “Hmm, interesting.” She arches a brow at Stiles and hands him his drink, “Next round’s on you, Stiles.”
Stiles gives her a look, “You didn’t even buy this one.” He turns to follow Lydia back to their table and turns when the female bartender calls out to him.
“Nice jeans, Stiles. You look good in leather,” she grins and nudges Derek, “doesn’t he, Derek?”
Derek doesn’t say anything; he simply turns away and rushes towards the other end of the bar.
Laura winks at him, “Trust me, Stiles, he thinks so too.”
Stiles blushes, one hand lifting to rub over face as he moves to rejoin Lydia, “That was weird.”