22. 𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗮𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗮𝘀

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DANCING WITH OUR HANDS TIED

DANCING WITH OUR HANDS TIED

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4x01 𖦹𖦹𖦹 The Dark Moon


"This doesn't seem so bad," Stiles said, looking around the small town in Mexico.

"It's not the town, it's the plan," Lydia told him.

"What's wrong with the plan?" Stiles asked, offended as he had come up with it himself.

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

"No. No, we do not need to call Isaac. And I'm aware it's not our best but it'll work" he said.

"We are going to die" Lydia sighed.

"Are you saying that as a banshee or you're just being pessimistic?" he asked.

"I'm saying it as a person who doesn't wanna die," she said.

"Okay. Would you just mind restricting any talk of death to actual banshee predictions?" he said.

"This plan is stupid and we're going to die" she smirked as Stiles gave her an annoyed smile.

"Oh, thank you. And she's your sister you know who, for all we know, probably wouldn't be in this mess if it wasn't for Derek who I am all for leaving here" he said.

"I don't know what your problem with him is. I've known him my whole life and he's always been nice to me. Maybe he just doesn't like you" Lydia said, as they approached the door they were looking for.

"Or maybe he's just a jackass" Stiles mumbled before they turned to the two guards who were standing out front.

Not knowing a lick of Spanish he let Lydia do all the talking but when the guards shook their heads, he pulled out a card he had in his wallet in case Lydia's charm didn't work.

The guard gestured for him to show the card to a nearby camera and the door buzzed open with a soft click as the guards gestured for them to walk inside.

With the door shutting behind them, leaving them in a dark, dimly lit hallway, the two glanced at each other hoping this wasn't a horrible idea.

Walking down the hall, they pushed open another door, almost  being knocked back at the booming music and cheers from the partygoers inside. It was a rave unlike any they had seen in Beacon Hills.

Stiles led Lydia through the crowd of people and over to the bar where two shots were placed before them without even having to order. Not wanting to question the lack of carding, Stiles reached for his wallet before a man walked up behind them and placed his hands on their shoulders.

"No. On the house" he said. "Most American teenagers don't cross the border to refuse a drink."

"We didn't come to drink," Lydia said, before dropping the bullet she found in the shot glass in front of her.

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