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The Devil's Nest, Wednesday Evening

There was no Taylor Swift tonight. Oh no, tonight we were graced with the musical stylings of Daft Punk and Pharrell Williams for reasons Derek couldn't even begin to understand.

Maybe it had something to do with the slow motion over at Caritas yesterday.

Maybe the DJ was just luring him into a sense of hope that his Taylor Swifting was at an end. Let's be real, the latter was more likely.

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Where you could get lucky... with a drink.

"Hey I love this song!" Of course he did. "Please tell me it's on repeat."

He was a strange guy.

Derek sighed. "Unfortunately."

"What you don't like Daft Punk?" he asked. "But they're robots."

"Not on repeat." About 'getting lucky'.

"You're no fun," he said. "You gonna get me a drink?"

He was a fun vampire, Stiles. You knew this coming into the friendship.

Derek rolled his eyes, turning around to get him his stupid cherry coke and a straw to mangle. "Anything else happen in Beacon Hills."

Now that he could hear if you lied. He was insidious.

"Happen like what?" he asked, immediately going to chew on his straw. "Stuff outside the serial killings?"

"Is there stuff outside the serial killings?" Oh god, how was this even a conversation to be had?

"Of course there's other stuff." Like the psycho alpha pack. "I have a cross country meet soon. Exciting!"

"You don't go to school there. How do you have a meet?"

"Coach is insane," Stiles said. "He has rules about the lacrosse team not getting fat in the off season."

"You're not on the lacrosse team either!" Derek. Derek, shhh. Don't apply logic to Finstock.

And Derek was not, in fact, a Norse god. That sort of crap was left up to Deucalion.

"I totally am," he said. "Dude, the team accepts random werewolves all the time out of nowhere, me not going to the school is not a big deal."

Derek just sighed at that. "I don't want to know, do I?"

Stiles shrugged. "Not much to know. Should make the bus ride to the meet interesting. Five hours trapped on a bus with five werewolves, two of them being clearly evil."

Not helping things, Stiles.

Why did you have to make Derek deeply unhappy with your life choices? "Or you could skip that."

"Why would I do that?" He would miss out on pain and suffering!

"Did you miss the part about two evil werewolves?"

"Why would they go after me?" Stiles asked, pulling his completely demolished straw out of his drink and sitting it on the bar. "Squishy human here."

Derek sighed, watching the straw before pushing a new one over. For no reason. "Stick close to Scott, okay?"

"Dude, stop worrying," Stiles said, sticking the new straw in his drink. "It's like you have no faith in my ability to take care of myself."

"Gee. I wonder why."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Shut up. It's not like this place is some haven of safety."

Shut up, Stiles! Logic had no place here!

"Safer than Beacon Hills." And not at all just because Derek was there to be insane about keeping safe the people who wormed their way into his grumpy little shell.

"True," he allowed, sighing. "But my point is that I'm not completely safe anywhere so you need to chill out on the disapproving scowl thing you do whenever I make a trip back home."

"I don't scowl." Except that he did. Right now.

"Dude you totally scowl," he said. "I'm not saying you like look hideous or anything when you do it 'cause it's kind of hard for you to pull that off, but you scowl. You're a scowler."

That earned him a sort of squinty-scowl for that vague compliment. "Keep your mace on you. And some of that wolfsbane."

Oh. They'd have plenty on the bus, Derek.

"Derek. Seriously." He was not completely helpless. "It's like you want me to not send you obligatory 'I'm okay' texts."

Spoiler alert: He would be so freaked out that he wouldn't send those texts anyway.

You are an evil little shit, Stiles. Do you want him to show up in your Beacon Hills? Do you?

"...you're sending me a text that you're okay."

"I'm curious as to what you think you're gonna do if I don't." Yeah, he had to ask.

"I will come find you."

"Oh god you would, wouldn't you?" If the other Derek wasn't busy being dead and banging a teacher he would not approve! "You get one text a day. One."

They were compromising! How sweet of them.

"Good," Derek replied, grabbing his glass for a refill since he was being good about this. And if that action showed off his awesome new jeans, so be it.

Holy god it was the devil jeans. How did this Derek get a hold of those? Stiles made a strained almost squeaking noise before trying to cover it up with a manly cough.

Hey now, they were just regular jeans. Nothing demonic about them!

Derek gave him a look as he put the glass back down. "If you're dying, I'm not taking you to the clinic."

"I'm not dying." Did it smell like he was dying?

No, wait. Don't smell him.

Derek's mouth went tight and he glared for a moment. Because teenagers needed to stop that around werewolves.

It wasn't cool. Not at all.

"That's good."

Hey, check out the elephant in the corner!

"Yeah." He was just gonna slurp obnoxiously on his drink, hoping the noise would distract from his staring. He was staring in horror. Yep. Absolute horror.

Well, there was probably a little horror in there. Somewhere.

Why wasn't there a shadowy doorway that Derek could slink into around here? That would be so helpful right now. He should probably say something here. Definitely ought to say something to defuse the situation like an adult. "You drink like a pig."

Nailed it.

Where you might actually get lucky.

Where. you could get lucky and probably bitten.

This song is my jam.

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The Devil's Nest, Wednesday Evening

The Bar

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The Lounge/Dance Floor

The VIP Area

OOC