𝗧𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘 𝗢𝗙 𝗬𝗢𝗨 ── 𝘚.𝘚𝘛𝘐𝘓𝘐𝘕𝘚𝘒𝘐

♡ 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗧𝗬 ♡

The all-too-familiar scent of watermelon lipgloss welcomed him in while his heartbeat thumped wildly in his chest. Her skin was warm underneath his fingertips as he ran his hand up her outer thigh and planted his lips against her jawline instead. 

He ran one hand around the back of her neck and pulled at her waist with the other free hand until she was firmly pressed against him. 

The buzzing of his mobile phone caught his attention - as did his inconvenient ringtone. He let out a large huff and rested his head against her shoulder. "Why does the universe hate me?"

Dallas rolled her eyes playfully before pursing her lips. "And I'm the drama queen?" 

"It's just.. my dad." 

"Meaning it's probably important." she chuckled. "Look, you can go. I need to talk to my dad anyway.. and mom." her face soured. 

Stiles seemed reluctant. "Are you sure? I can be a great use of moral support-"

"Oh my god, go." she hissed sarcastically pulling him up with the arm of his flannel. "I'll be fine."

"Okay, okay. Leaving." he pulled open her bedroom door and pulling it ajar. However, he stood against her doorframe with a wicked grin. "Hey, Dallie?"

"Stiles?" she hummed back. 

"I love you." Stiles couldn't wipe the grin from his face.

"Yeah, you mentioned." 

And with that, and only that, he slipped through the door with a wide grin and a bounce in his step. Dallas sat alone in her room and waited until she heard him disappear down the stairs. Upon hearing her front door open slam, she picked up her pillow and let out a slight squeal.

There he went again making her feel things - and boy, was he good at it.

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

Marilyn Garcia was already halfway towards the door before James pulled her back by her arm. "Where the hell are you going?" he hissed to her. "What if someone sees you? How do I explain that my dead wife is prancing around Beacon Hills very much alive?"

"I don't care." she seethed back. "I'm going to put his worthless little head on a spike."

That was it. The singular trait both the women in his family shared. Stubbornness. "You don't even know where he is." 

"Its a small town, I'll come across him eventually-"

James tugged at her arm. "Maybe you should spend less time worrying about the past and actually start paying attention to the daughter you left." He ran a hand over his forehead. "I have to go to the station, but this conversation isn't over. Don't make yourself too comfortable here, Marilyn." he spat.

He disappeared out the door and caught up with Stiles Stilinski who was fumbling with his car keys in front of his jeep. "Oh, Mr Garcia." he caught his attention, noticing the stressed look on his face. "I didn't have a chance to apologise for what I did, well, what the-"

"I don't care about that now." James waved his apology away with his hand. "I need to find Peter Hale. Know where that douchebag is?"

"I uh, no." Stiles mumbled rather awkwardly. "I could ask Scott if it helps. Why?"

James glanced around for bystanders before inhaling sharply. "Cause if Dallas doesn't end up killing Peter Hale, Marilyn definitely will."