fandomtownies | Nest of the Demon, Saturday, 27 Juli

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Nest of the Demon, Saturday, 27 Juli

Once upon a time, there was a fanfic writer from Amsterdam who was very young and very confused about the meaning of the phrase "Coffeeshop AU." She also didn't have an English beta. (Nor, for that matter, a Dutch one.)

This explains why there wasn't a drop of alcohol, a barstool, or a dancefloor to be found on the premises of the Devil's Nest tonight. Thick, slightly sweet-scented air, the ever-present sound of water bubbling, trance music and an abundance of overstuffed couches and pillows to flop down on? That, Bo could provide.

Also, many, many bowls of Cheetos and Skittles on the counter and a slightly glassy stare.

Not that she would partake on the job, but contact high. What can you do?

Specials

Ask me under the counter about the menu.

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Cheetos, Skittles, stroopwafel and poutine.

...One of her two ~~only~~ biggest commenters on A03 was from British Columbia.

Dean had no clue where he was, to be honest. Because he'd never actually left the U.S. before. Unless you count hell. Or heaven. Which he wasn't.

So!

He was in a very confused EuroClub while being very confused himself. Oh, and he was still crying. A lot.

"I'm gonna freakin' kill someone," he said between manly sniffles.

"Dude, no. Why would you wanna do that?" Bo shook her head and reached beneath the counter for a sandwich bag. That... totally had a sandwich in it really except not. "You sound waaaay too stressed out."

Aw, c'mon! Not in front of the hot chick!

"Yeah, well I can't stop," he wailed. Because this was even worse than... everything. Ever.

"Aww, sure you can. Try some of this stuff, man. It's totally smoooooth."

The author of this fic had met as many actual stoners as she'd been in actual coffeeshops -- American or Dutch -- which is to say none, because she was 13, and frankly the only time she'd ever even seen someone smoke up was in that one Chuck Bass songvid full of dorm roof scenes, talkyface, and terrible clip transitions.

Starwipes? Were there starwipes? Because those were the only way to go.

"Dude," he sniffled. "Are you offering me drugs? What kind of club is this?"

"Of course I'm not offering you drugs." Duh! "I'm offering to sell you drugs."

Dean was... giving it serious consideration if it made him stop crying manly tears over his family. "How much we talkin'?"

DAMN IT, DEAN.

Back under the counter for a menu, which Bo helpfully placed before him. "See? Totally reasonable, especially with the Saturday Night Special."

It was all in Dutch.

"..." Dean cried on it for a moment. "I have no clue what this language is."

You know, he could muddle his way through Latin, but not this.

Bo sighed. "10 bucks for the regular and 25 for the primo."

Relax. Mellow out. Chiiiill.

Unless you're the type that gets paranoid, in which case that squirrel is totally out to steal your stash.

Yeah, I don't even know. I took a nap, I had a thought, it made me laugh.

Oh, man. *dies* This is awesome.

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Nest of the Demon, Saturday, 27 Juli

The Counter [7/27]

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The ...Couches [7/27]

OOC [7/27]

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