Not exactly planned

"It'd be suspect A. The injuries match signs of struggling along with the size of the corpse compared to the size of the marks." Stiles casually sputters out the correct answer, not even bothering to lift his pen from the doodle he was working on. He never really spoke up in class, which now caught every one's attention.

"Very good, Stiles." He barely manages to catch the teachers praise before resting his head on the desk. The guys had taken Stiles under their wing more often than not, a few of them eyeing his depressed facade suspiciously. Class was dismissed and Stiles quickly gathers up all of his belongings, speed walking back to the bunks.

"What's with you kid?" Thom nudges the boy under a lump of blankets.
"I haven't gotten a letter in almost five weeks." He mumbles through the fabric. Several other guys walk into the room, eyeing his bed suspiciously, a couple of them even joining Thom. That was the trouble with letters. Sometimes they get lost in the mail or sometimes you forget who's turn it is to write back.

"Come on, then." Thom sighs pulls back the blankets and drags him out of bed. "Let's go out."
"Do I have to?" Stiles whines from where he lay on the floor. "I feel shitty."
"Nothing a few shots can't fix." The man drags him to his feet.

They walk out of their room, a few of their friends close behind, before going walking off campus completely. Stiles was complaining the whole time, saying how he'd rather be back in bed but the guys failed to let him go anywhere but the club.

"Guys, really I'm not that good with partying." Stiles gulps as they drag him off campus. And he really wasn't, one of the last times he went to a party he got his best friend pregnant. Parties were suddenly a big no-no for him.He turns to walk back but Thom grabs him by the arm.
"It's not a party, ding bat. It's a club. With drinks and girls in minomial clothing! Anything to fill your little teenage fantasies." Only now did he notice the slight British accent Thom had.

Stiles begs one last time before they all walk into a club. The lights were low, the music loud, and alcohol stung the air. And just like promised, there were girls. The opposite gender he hadn't seen in three months and he almost orgasmed just at the sight of them.
"Let's get a drink in him before he collapses." Thom pats Stiles on the back before walking him over to the bar.

Surprisingly the bartender doesn't question Stiles' age, giving both guys two shots and some sort of liquor. The other men had broken off into the dancing crowd, a few of them finding girls and others of them laughing at some tables to the side. Thom nods in the direction of one of the tables and they start their walk.
"Oh my gosh I'm so sorry!" A small girl gasps as she bumps into Stiles, spilling her drink all over his shirt.

He laughs as she frantically tries to wipe the girly drink off, muttering under her breath of how much of a klutz she was. "You're fine. Really, it's okay." He assures but the girl wasn't having it.
"It's such a nice shirt too. Shit!" She stamps her foot, brushing blonde locks behind her ears before finally looking up at him.

He wore a grin at her embarrassed expression, his whiskey colored eyes matching the drink in his hand.
"I'm Stiles." He offers his free hand and she takes it with a smile.
"Heather."
Somehow Lydia seemed like a distant memory in that moment.
"Want another drink?" He asks and Heather nods shyly. They make their way over to the bar. He gets her another drink, glancing over to where Thom was and the man throws him a small thumbs up.

The two continue to make small conversations, downing drinks with laughter and smiles. For once Stiles wasn't thinking about anything but right now.

"Wanna get out of here?" Heather asks. Stiles knew what that meant. Hell, anyone with a brain knew what that meant. And what did he say?
"Sure."
Heathers lips met with his in an instant and they weren't hers but damn did it feel good anyway. Or maybe that was the alcohol. It didn't seem to matter at the moment though, his hormonal teenage desires and beer filled veins taking control for him.

There wasn't a single thought of Lydia when they managed to walk out of the club. Never a flash of strawberry blonde hair in the back of his mind as they entered her apartment, already working each other's clothes off. Beacon Hills seemed halfway across the country compared to where they lay under the sheets on her bed.

The sun blinded Stiles eyes as it filtered in through the window and a hangover was surely well on its way. He groans, rolling over on his stomach to face the now waking blonde besides him.
"You staying for breakfast?" She yawns, rubbing one eye.
"Free food? Hell yeah." He responds causing her to laugh.

"You drove Roscoe!?" Stiles drops his bag at the gates, running to his jeep before hugging the hood. "Oh my god I missed you so much baby." He kisses the blue paint and Scott rolls his eyes.
"Glad to see you too." Isaac grumps from the back seat once Stiles hops behind the wheel.

Allison squeals, leaning forward to give the boy a hug and a kiss on the cheek before returning to her spot next to Isaac as Scott slips into the passenger seat with Stiles' duffle.
"I know what you're thinking: where's Lydia?" Scott imitates him. Lydia. Shamefully he had forgotten about the girl. "But we thought it would be fun if you surprised her."
How could he have forgotten about his little strawberry?
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Authors note:

Double update (swag swag...or not) BUTTTTTT Stiles...kinda...slept with someone else.... So yeah.
Comment, read, enjoy!
-Chloe