It's Senior Year, and Stiles Stilinski has a plan:
1. Apply and Get-In to BSU early admissions
2. Continue to stay off everyone else's radar
3. Graduate
There. An easy plan to survive the 195 days left before he graduates, and can thereby ridden hi...
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Hot Chocolate, Stiles had decided, was one of the world's greatest wonders. One cup with a dollop of whipped cream and a flurry of marshmallows and you've got yourself a little magic. (For the taste buds, that is.) As far as he was concerned, there wasn't much the chocolaty beverage couldn't fix.
And currently, he needed to fix his nerves. Or more so, calm them down. Help them to relax, and to stop pulsating beneath his skin. He felt like he was on acid, not that he knew what that felt like. However he was pretty sure with his trembling frame, and flickering eyes, he had a good idea.
His hands stayed glued to the mug within them, the wilting dollop of whip cream glaring up at him under the overhead light. A makeshift lantern mounted upon the wall. It looked ancient, from a time long before Stiles' honey eyes ever pried open to see the world. He couldn't help but glower at it, willing it to stop time.
It had been a spontaneous decision to stop in what appeared to be the only small hole in the wall dining stop at the lodge. Stiles had realized that they had yet to really explore much other than the cabin of which they were staying in. As luxurious as it was in its own right, Stiles held more of a silent appreciation for places like this. The forgotten shelters.
He and Lydia had barely made it down the hill before he'd spotted it and made it a point to walk in. Partially because he was curious, partially because he saw the large "Hot Chocolate" written in pink chalk on the board outside, and partially because he was freaking the hell out.
He was freaking out because he was spending time alone with Lydia for the first time since he nearly spilled the beans on his feelings for her. Something inside him made him feel as though the hot chocolate would somehow prevent that from happening again. If he remained calm, there would be no need for blabbering them out. They could have a normal day. A luxury they hadn't had since being back home in Lydia's room.
Suddenly realizing he'd had yet to touch the thing that was meant to fix all of his problems, Stiles raised the mug to his lips, blowing on it gently before taking a much needed sip. His muscles relaxed nearly instantly, and he closed his eyes, humming to himself because thank god it worked, but also, damn, that was a good cup of hot chocolate. If Stiles didn't know any better he'd think the lodge was magic. Everything about it was so perfectly done.
