fandomtownies | The Perk, Saturday Evening

Entry tags:

The Perk, Saturday Evening

Derek did not have a cup of coffee despite being in a coffee shop. He did, however, have a scone.

It was raspberry.

And, yes, he was glaring at it. Glaring while he ignored the barista's swooning over a poem she'd been given. He should have just stayed in his creepy, abandoned house tonight.

[[Open, of course!]]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

After a while, April got bored of Tino's texting shenanigans and went on a break.

Or maybe called it an early night. Who knew.

Then she spotted all the swooning going on and groaned. "Fuck, here too?"

Derek made a noise that might have been in agreement on not being okay with all the romance going on there.

Or maybe he was coughing because his scone was dry. Who knows?

Dry scones and swooning from the staff? It was a wonder this place managed to stay open.

...was possibly the rough translation of the noise April made as she sank into a seat, eyerolling extensively.

Derek's glare went from annoyed to confused as to why she was still here. Neat him.

Seriously, April. He was the lurker here.

Excuse you, April got to Fandom first, okay. DEREK COULD DEAL WITH HER LURKING.

She shot him a look to express this, and started drumming her fingers on the table for good measure. All rhythmically, too. Take that, Derek.

And now the glare was firmly directed at those fingers. Urge to rip someone's throat out... rising.

April followed his gaze, allowed Derek to suffer for another moment, and then slooooowly dragged out the next few rounds of finger-drumming until she came to a stop.

SHE EXPECTED GRATITUDE FOR THAT, DEREK. JUST SO YOU KNEW.

She would just get to keep her fingers attached to her hand. Huzzah for that!

He very pointedly went back to glaring at his scone. His terrible, terrible scone.

That was probably a much more pleasant thing to be glaring at, it was true.

Unfortunately the glaring might have been interrupted by April exhaling loudly. Just once.

It was the kind of exhale that said 'When is this woman going to pay attention to her job for long enough to get me coffee already?'

Just, you know. Laconically.

Or it was an exhale that earned her another glare. Another surly little glare that demanded to know why she was still there.

Because socializing in a normal manner was just crazy talk.

All talk was crazy, really! Why bother talking when you could communicate through sighs, grunts and glares?

...Oh, right, to get to know other people so you could have interesting experiences as a member of society. Lame.

Though finally April did decide to speak. "It's worse at the bar."

There. That should keep them covered for a while.

Which begged the question: "How?"

"That's where the guy writing them is." Duh, Derek. "He keeps reading them out loud."

Derek sighed, shooting the barista a dirty look as she giggling again. "...point."

April didn't say anything for a few minutes after that, preferring to just shoot a truly terrifying deathglare in the barista's direction. Then finally she volunteered, "I sabotaged them."

That was sure to clear things up.

Derek didn't respond to that, settling in with an unimpressed look. Sabotaging that was like shooting fish in a barrel.

Because love was a liiiiiie.

And because they didn't seem all that bright.

April snorted. Loudly.

With an expression of 'I know, right?'

You were speaking to a girl whose last relationship had been a threesome with two gay guys, Derek. Unironically.

"The line about her ass being shaped like a toaster?" she added. "That was mine."

"Congratulations," he deadpanned. Teenagers.

Hey, hey, April was almost twenty! ...Almost. She'd be twenty in like seven months.

So, practically an adult already!

She lapsed into silence after that -- with the exception of some occasional tapping of her foot -- and just sort of eyed him. Like lurkers did.

Derek stared right back at her evenly. Since being surly didn't work, he could go with blank.

Like the best creeper around.

All Jaye wanted was coffee. That was it. She didn't want to have to stand there waiting for her order with the barista paying more attention to something else.

Which may have been why the snapped, "It's not that great, okay? He sent one to me too," and snatched her coffee to head away from the counter.

And if she mouthed, "No he didn't," at the first person she saw- hi Derek- well.

That was the closest you were going to get to amusement. At the barista's pain, yes.

Because the only way to survive was by being emotionally closed off and never allowing anyone in. Jaye got him!

"How long has she been doing that?" Jaye asked, because she hated that curiosity got her in situations like this. It was like watching bad movies, or car crashes. You just needed details to go with the badness.

"All. Night." And that scone had stopping being appetizing about the third text and giggle in.

She frowned harder now. "How have you not thrown that scone at her head?"

"Self control." Limitless self control. Unless you were a teenage boy. And then there was more threatening. "And I doubt the local police would be happy with it."

"Oh, trust me, no one is going to get arrested for throwing a scone at an annoying person," Jaye assured him. "You'd get applause."

Jaye, dear god, stop encouraging stuff like this.

Oh god, Derek looked like he was seriously contemplating it now. Jaye, you're a terrible influence.

Terrible.

"It's catharsis and no one in the history of the world has ever been injured by a pastry," she said with a nod. "...Maybe in France. I could see that happening with a croissant or something."

"I'll leave that up to you," Derek decided. Since, no matter how much better it would make him feel, it was still better to keep a low profile.

Yeah. That was so happening here.

"Does that mean I can throw your scone?"

Questions that were probably not asked very much by people not Jaye...

"Knock yourself out," he said, shoving it toward her across the table. If the cops showed up, he was bailing. It was all on you now, Jaye.

Jaye looked over to see what the barista was doing- go figure, she was not doing her job- and picked the scone up to whip it at her.

And then quickly turned around, trying to look as innocent as possible while asking, "Did I get her?"

"Coffee maker." Actually, it was a steamer, Derek. But we'll let it slide since you're not the brightest bulb in the box.

Dammit. "Did she even notice?"

"Nope." Another ear-piercing noise of glee filled the shop as someone sent the last part of a truly romantic poem. Oh god, his poor ears.

"Okay, next time you throw the scone. Because this-" That would be very blatant pointing towards the sound of the squeal. "-should never happen. I think I just had an eardrum pop."

"I can tune her out." Lies. Damned lies.

"Really? And how's that been working for you so far, Mr. Let Me Throw Your Scone?" Jaye asked.

Hey now. He needed to get out sometimes and make sure he wasn't ending up like anyone normal. Or, god forbid, happy.

Because Derek Hale can never be happy.

"It's not my fault you missed."

"Well, you wouldn't throw it so I had to, so... How about this," she said, "I'll take most of the blame for missing."

"How about all?" All worked for him.

"80%?" she tried.

So not going for that, Jaye. Sorry. Wait... no. Not sorry at all.

"Okay, fine. I'll take all of it, but just this once," she said, like A) this was going to happen again, and B) like it'd be any more his fault next time.

She would take and she would like it. Deal with that, Jaye.

"I'm sure."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The Perk, Saturday Evening

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject