Chapter Text
The echoes of the upbeat dance music cutting through the night were a strange counterpoint to the shallow, almost panicked breaths the young man was taking in the privacy of his beat-up jeep, the little puffs of condensation making it clear that he had sat there long enough for the car to be just as cool as the autumn air outside. Just when it looked like he would start the car and head back, mission left unaccomplished, he squared his shoulders, adopted a look on his face that could only be described as “fuck it” and stepped out of the car, wrapping his arms around himself and wishing he was wearing something a little warmer.
“Seriously, Stiles,” he muttered to himself,” you’ve survived werewolves, homicidal geriatrics and a fricking murderous were-lizard with serious abandonment issues, you shouldn’t be nervous of a gay bar”. He let out a little mirthless chuckle at the ridiculousness of his life as he made his way over to the queue, once again bemoaning the fact that Jungle was the only decent gay club in the whole county and always had a line. If anyone was there to notice how nervous Stiles was, he’d have probably made some comment on the drag queens being scarier than any monster of the night, but the truth was he was nervous as he just didn’t want to be rejected once again. Every time he thought he’d found somewhere he could belong it was taken away from him; his friendship with Scott had been fraying since Allison, but he’d thought that he had a chance at something new with the pack, hoped that he would still have someone in his corner, maybe even be friends with Lydia… when Jackson was saved though, when everything came to a head and Stiles was standing there bleeding from the cuts Gerard had left on him and no one noticed, that’s when he realised he was alone. Derek and his pack of misfits were huddled together, Boyd and Erica apologising to their alpha and Derek finally actually letting his emotions out as he held his betas close, Isaac leaning into the reassuring touch. Jackson and Lydia, Scott and Allison, even Christopher Argent was talking with Peter, and he just had to get out of there. He still hadn’t known though, hadn’t truly realised he didn’t belong anywhere till he got home and saw his Dad sitting at the kitchen table, glass in hand, the almost empty bottle of whisky a glaring red flag to Stiles. When his Dad didn’t react to him coming in, Stiles wanted nothing more than to crawl into his fathers arms just so he could feel safe again, but he couldn’t make himself, there were too many lies between them that he couldn’t bring himself to cross the 10 yards into the kitchen to his father.
Stiles knew he had to tell his dad about the supernatural soon, as he could see the secrets starting to destroy their relationship, but now the kanima was finally dealt with and Stiles had recovered from his encounter with Gerard, he just wanted to feel like a normal teenager for a while, hence why he had decided to tackle the least daunting of his problems, namely the fact that his bisexual awakening had been completely overlooked in favour of supernatural drama. Standing in the line for Jungle, Stiles wasn’t sure if he was just shaking because of the cold or if his nerves were getting the better of him. He wasn’t worried he wouldn’t be allowed in. Sure, no-one would ever believe him if he said he was 21, but that’s why he went when Jungle was having a night for over 18-year olds, and his fake was almost perfect; no, he knew he’d get in, but after his own Dad had made fun of his fashion sense, Stiles didn’t know if he could cope if a community he felt that he belonged to told him he wasn’t good enough. Just when his self-doubt made him want to turn around, he was at the door and the bouncer was checking his ID and he was waved through.
As soon as he made his way through the dingy corridor that smelt of stale cigarette smoke and found himself in the main club, the volume of the music he had heard from outside seemed to have been turned up by a-hundred and he found himself trapped in the sea of bodies. He started to make his way forwards in the hope of getting a drink, but soon realised the crowd was even thicker at the bar and abandoned it as a lost cause. Instead he started moving into a slightly more open area where he could breathe a little, thinking he would try and dance a little, but he had been so full of nerves that the music and lights were starting to feel overwhelming. Stiles felt his breathing start to catch as panic bubbled up; he was being jostled from all sides, trying to get his bearings only to be spun around again, too many noises, too many people, just too much, it’s all too much, scrunching his eyes shut and trying to count – one, two , th- pushed around again, taking a breath, one, tw –
“Stiles!” cries a cheery voice, not that far away from him. Stiles looks up and sees Pippa, one of the drag queens he spoke to last time he was at Jungle, and feels his panic start to ebb. Her enthusiastic waving is enough to make Stiles laugh and he feels his nerves slip away as he uses the familiar face to anchor him in the crowd, and he makes his way over to where she and another drag queen are dancing. When he gets close enough she reached out to draw him into a hug, kissing him on both cheeks before pulling away to take a proper look at him. “Stiles, you’re looking absolutely gorgeous tonight!!!! You’re going to be making a lot of pretty boys very jealous, I can tell”. Stiles couldn’t help but blush. So sure, he had put a bit of extra effort into his look, sue him, he liked the dark maroon tight T-shirt with the black bomber jacket, and even he could admit that his ass looked pretty good in those skinny black jeans, but he still struggled to really accept that other people could like the way he looked.
“Well I can’t always wear plaid, can I?” he said with a slightly self-deprecating smirk, remembering all the times his penchant for flannel shirts had caused disparaging comments from his peers.
“Oh, honey,” replied Pippa, “you wouldn’t be you without you’re plaid! It’s one of you’re defining features” she said with a smile on her face. “This is Danielle, the only person except myself I would ever trust to do my makeup” she said as she gestured to the other drag queen by her side who Stiles realise he hadn’t met before. “You should let her use her magic on you, you would look so good with eyeliner!!”
Stiles brought his hand up to scratch the back of his head sheepishly, saying “Well, I was actually wondering if you ladies could teach me how to do makeup myself, I was kinda curious and ended up watching a load of YouTube tutorials and reading articles, but I still have no idea where to start.”
“It would be no trouble to teach you at some point during the summer,” replied Danielle. “We could have a girl’s night; face masks and manicures are mandatory”. Stiles felt a weight lift from his shoulders as they kept talking, already looking forward to spending time with friends where he wouldn’t be thinking about the latest supernatural threat or worrying about his Dad. Soon they decided it was too loud to continue their conversation inside, so Pippa led them out to where the other ladies were in the smoking area, and before he knew it Stiles had been adopted into their little group, sharing witty quips back and forth, finally feeling like someone wasn’t judging him for being too loud, or too odd, because who could ever feel like “too much” when with a group of drag queens covered in sequins and glitter.