A very merry undeathday to you (and me)

[teenyoda]

Who: Scott/Stiles + Everyone in this bar
What: A Wake/Undeathday party
When: 310
Where: The Roadhouse
Rating: Tentatively putting up an R merely for language and whatever else anyone might get up to.

Anyone affiliated with Scott, Stiles, or possibly more due to glitches and/or random oopsies will wake up with this in their inbox.



The back reads: Come celebrate the fact that we're not dead. Anymore. There will be food, drink, really bad stories, possible pantslessness (though I'm wearing 2 belts), and more hijinks than you can shake a stick at. The Wake will be held at the Roadhouse and should be starting around 5, but come at your own pace. Bring a story to share or some pie. Actually, screw the story, just bring pie.

Seriously though, Derek and Jackson can get lost.


{ooc: This will be an open mingle log party style post, so please feel free to start your own threads or hop around in others. Threadjacking is likely, as is ridiculousness. Enter at own risk. Party crashers are also more than welcome, so even if you don't think you got an invite, come anyway.}

Comments

[teenyoda]

[Guess who's drunk by this point? Yeah, you guessed it. Isaac, you're going to get an arm flung around your shoulder and a beer put somewhere in the vicinity of your hand.]

ZACKY! Heeeey. Lookit that, you came.

[There's a laugh, because ha ha, 'came'. But then Stiles is giving Isaac a light slap on the shoulder.]

Have a beer. Have two beers. Have five. Dude, there's tequila. You should have some of that, too.

[freezerburned]

If you ever call me that again, I'm hitting you.

[His head just sort of drops and he lets out a longsuffering sigh. Really, Stiles?]

Repeatedly.

[teenyoda]

Don't be like that, Zackarino. Hey, no hitting, it wasn't Zacky.

[He held up his hands defensively, but he was grinning.]

Come on, bud. Let's get you hooked up with something to drink and -- oh my god, there's still pie.

[Feel that, Isaac? That was you getting tugged towards the buffet table.]

[freezerburned]

[Do you know who hates you forever, Stiles, do you, spoiler alert, it's Zacky.]

Stiles- Stiles, stop. You're wasted.

[He digs his heels in, trying to resist. No pie! X-(!!!!]

[teenyoda]

[Stiles turned back and gave Isaac an evil sort of grin.]

You bet your pretty blue eyes I'm wasted. That's sort of the whole point, man. I'm alive to get wasted. Now come on and have some pie or it's going to wind up down your pants like Scott's. You don't say no to a man's death-pie, Zack-attack.

[freezerburned]

[Isaac's hand flies up and he grabs at Stiles' wrist, hard, his fingers digging in. Can you feel that, bro? That's your bones grinding together.]

It's Isaac.

[teenyoda]

Oh my god, will you please remove your tampon and for once just try to chill the hell out?

[Ow, Isaac. Look, he was trying to be nice here. You were friends with his best friend and he was trying to make this something everyone could get along at. Put your dick away.]

[freezerburned]

[He lets go of his wrist then, rolling his eyes.]

I was relaxed.

[teenyoda]

Not relaxed enough, mister touchy. Come on, seriously. Have some pie, have a beer, have a tequila and chiiiiiiiiiiill.

[Stiles rubbed at his wrist, then smoothed his hands out in the air, like he was actually smoothing it out.]

It's all good. We're all good.

[Even though you let Scott die, Isaac. See how nice he was not bringing that up? Give him a fucking medal.]

[freezerburned]

[WOW EXCUSE YOU who let who die now? Yeah if you bring that up, prepare to be punched.]

We're not good. [Eyes narrowing slightly.] I still owe you for dying like an idiot out there.

[teenyoda]

Wait, wait. You owe me for dying like an idiot? Keep up your talk like that and I might think you give a shit.

[Hey look, passing shooters. OF TEQUILA. Tray minus two, Stiles plus two. He holds one out for Isaac.]

Look, we died, we came back, it's all good. C'mon... have a shot with me.

[freezerburned]

[Isaac looks at him, eyes still narrowed for a moment. But he takes the shot, holds it in his fingers.]

Owe you, as in, if I get too tipsy, I might try to hit you. What the hell was that out there?

[teenyoda]

No hitting. My face is delicate, like a flower.

[He tossed back his own shot, face screwing up at the taste. Oh god, tequila was vile.

His answer was a shrug.]

I got a little upset. What, you never got upset before?

[freezerburned]

[Isaac turns away, glancing down toward the liquid in his own shot glass.]

He told me to protect you. By the time I got to you, you were already dead.

[And yeah, maybe it sounds like he's guilty, or there's some regret clinging to him, but- with that, he downs the glass. Best way to avoid an awkward conversation: shots, shots, shots.]

[teenyoda]

So obviously I died just to spite you, right?

[Have an eye roll, Isaac. But he was going to try to push him over towards the buffet again.]

Look, he died, I died, everyone died, but we're back. So just... let it go, man. I don't want this to turn into some pissing match again, okay? Scott's here, you're here, I'm here. We can all be civilized and have some pie and drinks together, right?

[freezerburned]

You want me to- ugh.

[Well, he has to let it go right now because he's too busy wincing from the tequila.]

Crap- is there water- ?

[teenyoda]

There's pie!

[He got a piece and slid it onto a paper plate, then held it up for Isaac.]

Look, it's cherry. Totally one of the best kind of pies. Here. This'll totally take the taste out.

[He showed by action, grabbing a piece for himself and taking an overlarge bite. God... pie.]

[freezerburned]

Oh my god, Stiles.

[You are beyond useless and Isaac takes off in search of a glass of water. Follow him and stuff but, dude, water.]

[teenyoda]

[Stiles was following, but he was bringing the pie with him. And Isaac was going to damn well eat a piece of death-day pie. Damn it.]

Jesus, Isaac. It's just a little tequila. Not gonna tekillya.

[He was hilarious.]

[freezerburned]

[That earns him a punch. Not a supremely painful punch? But a punch. I hope you drop your pie, Stiles.

At any rate, good, washing the alcohol down his throat.]

-anyway. I'm not- letting it go. What do you think it was like, seeing you there?

[teenyoda]

[Nope. He's still got all the pie. ALL OF IT. Though he's setting it on the bar so he can wrangle another beer out of the oh so pretty blonde dispensing them. Not that he noticed that sort of thing.]

Man, really? Come on, Isaac. I didn't do it out of spite to you or anything. You think I wanted to die? No, thanks. That wasn't on my list of things to accomplish in life. And I figured you wouldn't have given a rat's ass anyway since you hate me and all. Eat your pie.

[freezerburned]

Oh yeah, because I can casually sit back while everyone I know bleeds to death around me.

[Isaac reaches out, grabs hold of his sleeve. Stop eating and listen to him.]

He asked me to protect you, dumbass.

[teenyoda]

You've casually sat back and let shit happen before. What's the difference here?

[Hell, he'd been part of the shit happening before. There was no reason for Stiles to think Isaac gave more than a fart's whiff for him.]

How was I supposed to know that? Huh? I was too far away to get in on the whole last words montage and all I saw was him going down. So sorry for not knowing you were asked to be my babysitter.

[freezerburned]

[Isaac's teeth grit a little more, because- well, Stiles is right. He'd been prepared to kill Lydia, to kill Jackson, even Scott.]

Well, I care now. [Even though that tone sounds like he's more ready to hit Stiles again than protect him.] So shut up and feel guilty.

[teenyoda]

Yes, sir. Consider me wracked with guilt. I'm wraaaaaaacked with it. A mess. I can barely eat this pie.

[Yet the pie found its way into his mouth, followed by the beer that was slid in front of him.]

So guilty. Oh, the guilt. So ashamed. Oh... I'll have to drink and eat my shame and guilt away.