fandomtownies | The Devil's Nest, Wednesday Night

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The Devil's Nest, Wednesday Night

There was dust on the bar top right where Derek normally stood. No, he didn't understand why that might be, but he was dusting it off with a rag.

Sometimes Fandom just had weird little whimsies. And sometimes he was pretty sure Tiny was just messing with him for some reason.

Tiny was a jerk.

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Now clean!

Now... probably clean?

You know, he wasn't really going to check if it was clean or anything. Because shut up.

I have failed hard on posting this.

/sobs

"You didn't tell me you're a bartender," Irene drawled as she sauntered in. Look, she hadn't been to either bar, and this one had caught her interest tonight. Derek was just lucky that way.

After spending two days doing the bare minimum amount of speaking to Derek, Stiles decided to make an effort to make up. Sort of. He was here anyway.

So, so lucky. And now looking surly. Though that may be his base state of being, so...

"Was I supposed to?"

Kitty didn't know why she decided to come in tonight, exactly, except that she was in a good mood (thanks, Irene!) and it'd been a while. So, might as well suck it up and see what happened.

"Hey," she said, taking a seat.

They were so mature about these things.

Derek rolled his eyes, but provided Stiles with his usual cherry coke. Because he was a great bartender.

Stop laughing at that.

"Hey," Derek replied. Look at him being all social tonight. Just you look at it.

Maybe it would encourage him to talk more.

...

No, that would not be the case.

"Can I get a rum and Coke?" If this might be awkward, then she might as well have alcohol.

Hopefully she was okay with a rum and coke that was more rum than coke. And could stand up after drinking it. Because that would be bad if Derek had to drag a drunk Kitty home.

He'd get shot for sure.

He shoved the soda-y rum over at her with a wary nod.

"Thanks," she said, taking the drink but not sipping it yet. "So how are things?"

That was for the best. She might be able to get tipsy on the fumes. "Things are good. You?"

Stiles accepted that drink with silence. And by propping up his elbows on the bar. He had taken off the gauze he had been wearing so the three minuscule (in Stiles' opinion), healing, scratch marks on wrist could be visible. Malia had human nails when she did it and everything!

Derek was just going to silently judge them anyway. But not say anything because he scoffed at communication.

Scoffed.

"Good. No recent crises-" Give it a week. Seriously. One week. "-I didn't get touched by the weirdness, I can't ask for much more than that."

She lifted the glass to sip her drink, trying not to frown re: said fumes.

"We're almost out of dog food." And by that he meant Cheetos.

"We have plenty," Derek said, rolling his eyes. "Stop turning my dog orange."

"I was a private detective." Deal with the fumes of alcoholism. Deal with it.

"He likes them." So Stiles obviously couldn't say no to his little face.

His little Oompa Loompa, fake baked face?

"It's not healthy for him."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Oh fine."

"Fine." Such open communication between them. So healthy. "I got more things."

Things, Stiles.

Kitty held her breath and took a sip, and then had to try and not to make a face at all the alcohol.

She failed.

"Private detective doesn't sound too bad."

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The Devil's Nest, Wednesday Night

The Bar

The Lounge

The VIP Area

OOC

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