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The Devil's Nest, Wednesday Evening

If Derek hadn't had to come in for his job, he would have been out in the woods, trying to work off some of the energy that had been building up this week. The very, very strange energy that he did not like in the slightest.

And meant he was taking several showers and occasionally a dive into the ocean.

The DJ helped nothing with his insistence on playing music with more than just slightly suggestive lyrics. Because he was a dick like that.

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Where Derek was glaring at the DJ. He'd get his revenge. Oh, he'd get his revenge.

Honestly you could have probably smelled Stiles before he even stepped foot in the bar seeing as he hadn't even met his usual jerk off quota for the day between classes and the goddamn dead bunny in his room this morning. Thanks for that Derek, really.

"I have a problem. Aside from the obvious one everyone on the island is experiencing." Yeah he wouldn't ask Derek to help with that one, despite what Cade seemed to think.

"...I'm your teacher and this isn't a real relationship," Derek reminded him warily.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "What did I just say? Also, ew."

"And you reek." Shoo, Stiles. Before you could mention the dead animals.

"I haven't had the chance to shower today." That's where he did most of his masturbating, okay? "Or maybe you're smelling the multiple disgusting dead animals I've been dealing with this week."

Explain yourself, Derek!

Stop mentioning them! "Go away."

"No, we are discussing this because it is currently ruining my life!" Stiles said. "Like it isn't bad enough being the only virgin in town when this crap is happening, I have to be the keeper of the world's most disgusting petting zoo."

"It's instincts, okay? I can't stop them. Just ignore the animals until whatever is going on is done."

HE CHASED A BUNNY, STILES. HE CHASED A BUNNY.

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"Vodka," Natasha demanded. "Leave the bottle." Someone was tetchy today.

Well, at least she had the type of bartender who was more than happy to put a bottle of what he could only assume was decent vodka on the table with a shot glass next to it.

And then glare at the DJ as he picked that moment to play some Pussycat Dolls.

Natasha deemed this vodka acceptable, for it was vodka, and she was in no mood to be picky. She downed a shot and then turned to glare at the DJ. "Seriously?"

"He has a death wish." Couldn't you tell?

"Well, clearly," Natasha agreed. "But that?"

"I's--" Sigh. "--actually better than what he normally plays."

For the express purpose of annoying Derek.

Coulson walked into the bar and took a seat as if he didn't have a problem in the world. His tie wasn't even slightly crooked. Overall, he looked to be dealing well with everything this week.

"Hi. Do you have any specials tonight?" he asked.

That's because he was a machine.

"Punch the DJ and get a drink on the house." The DJ was still playing Pussycat Dolls. He deserved it.

"I think I can afford a drink rather than punching somebody with questionable taste in music," Coulson noted. "You'll have to find someone else to punch him."

Ugh, Coulson. You're the worst.

"Fine. What do you want?"

"That depends. What's good tonight?" Coulson asked.

"Alcohol." Very helpful, Derek.

"I'll have some of that," Coulson said. "Ideally in the form of a Guinness, please."

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If you really wanted to dance. Or engage in still clothed vertical sex.

You perverts.

Where overly sexy vampires might be.

I just spent two hours learning to bustle a dress. Ugh.

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