asgardmeridiem | Lucy, you got some 'splaining to do

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Lucy, you got some 'splaining to do

Who: Stiles and Scott
What: Brotp times, getting the low down on the place, and likely drunken chicanery.
When: Day 274 (Evening)
Where: Starting at the pet store, moving to some kind of drinking establishment
Rating: PG-13 for potential potty mouthed behavior.

He'd taken charge of Erica and they'd actually managed not to join Isaac in whatever prison he was being held in. He'd also managed not to mention that Isaac was in prison. Go Stilinski. He actually did figure out how to use the mapping system on the bracelets, meaning he was able to drop Erica back off in her own district at her own house eventually. He hadn't figured out how to do it without looking like a total tourist. Things to work on...

He made his way to the Freya district, standing outside the store and just shaking his head. "Allison's. Really, Scott?" Why was he friends with him again? They had some talking to do, he and Scott. Mainly about how many times he'd been here before, what had happened, and why he couldn't remember any of it. Then they'd get to the less important things, like Isaac and Derek.

Stiles hadn't heard anything else from the de-wolfed ex-Alpha and he wasn't really looking forward to bumping into him again. Maybe he wouldn't have to. Hey, with the whole werewolf thing gone from everyone, there was no reason for Scott to be around Hale at all, which meant Scott could be blissfully ignorant of his presence. Look at that, a positive already.

He headed into the store, calling out Scott's name when he entered.

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He just gave Scott a look. "Uh huh. Bestiality?"

Who's the pervert now, Scott?

He put the bottle down long enough to answer. "I don't know how we get chosen or how we get voted into houses, but yeah, that sucks. But I don't think I'd want puppy eyes power. I don't have the look for it." He grinned and lifted his bottle to finish it.

"What? That was an honest mistake." A mistake which Allison also made. Pretty fishy if you ask, well, anyone.

"Sure you do." Crap, Stiles was beating him again. How did this keep happening? Scott hurried to catch up.

"It still baffles me how even after you got turned into something out of a fable, you never bothered to pick up a book on the subject." Really, Scott? You just expected Stiles to go do all your reading for you? To go through thousands of books and stories and legends and lore and... Yeah. He actually liked doing that. Never mind.

He finished his bottle (hah) and put it down, giving Scott an eyeroll. "No, I don't. Notice how they never work on my dad, but yours do? And don't say it's a parent thing, because they never work on your mom either, but yours do. You have a puppy face. I have a... a face-face."

Was his best friend seriously lecturing him for not studying enough?

...Okay, maybe he should have studied werewolfism at least a little instead of letting Stiles do all the work. But Stiles was the brains and Scott was the brawn.

"But you like doing research," Scott said as though that was a reasonable enough excuse.

Looking disappointed yet again when Stiles finished his drink before him, he put his own empty bottle down with a look at Stiles that said he had no idea what his best friend was talking about. It was a familiar look. "A face-face?" What did that even mean?

He would if he thought it would actually stick.

"Yeah, I do." It wasn't a complaint and really, it was that little edge that he had that made him feel like he had something to contribute besides, 'Look at my crappy jeep. Come beat it up some more, guys.'

Stiles grinned at Scott, waving for two more beers and two jager shots. "A face-face. You have a puppy face. I bet if you'd given Peter that look when he was about to bite you, he would have stopped. It's like, a weapon. I have a face-face. It's a regular face with no qualities about it that give me any leeway in getting out of any situations. It's just a face."

"I seriously doubt that," Scott said about Peter, but he knew Stiles was just exaggerating. What he didn't know was that Peter was, in fact, back from the dead with Lydia's help. That was going to be a shocker, whenever he found out.

Scott wondered whether Stiles was fishing for compliments by going on about how un-puppy-like his face was, which was what made him say, "There's nothing regular about your face."

Wait, that sounded like he was calling Stiles' face weird.

"I mean, you have a special face."

Maybe special was the wrong word... Scott tried again.

"I like your face." Would Stiles like to know why? Well, Scott was going to tell him. "Because it's the face of my best friend who I love thiiiiiis much." He stretched his arms out wide, almost knocking over the empty bottles on the bar. Someone was a little drunk already.

He also didn't know that Peter had offered him the bite and that Stiles had turned it down. These were things you kept from your best friend.

Stiles reached out and grabbed Scott's arm, steadying him just in case someone decided to weeble wobble their way off the stool onto the floor. Again.

"Yeah, I love you too, Scooby Doo. Now, drink your shot and your beer," he said with a wide smile as he picked up the dark liquid in a glass. "To loving faces."

"Does that make you Shaggy? But you don't have enough hair..." Scott ran his hand over Stiles' buzzcut fondly. "And you're not tall and lanky enough... Like Isaac is." Oh dear, was he implying Isaac would make a better Shaggy than him? Hopefully Stiles wouldn't read too much into that.

Scott raised his shot in the air. "To loving faces apart from Derek's because his face is a butt." In other words, a buttface, which gave Scott an idea. "We should find him later and moon him." Scott had always wanted to do that and the alcohol was giving him the liquid courage he needed to do it.

Stiles' eyes narrowed at the mention of Isaac. "Yeah, sure. He can be Shaggy." Not.

His glass clinked against Scott's and he was glad his friend had made the suggestion before he'd gone to drink. "Oh my god, yes. We so have to moon him. There's no penalty of being mauled by the weredick, so this so has to happen. Maybe he'll think he's looking in a mirror."

"You can be Velma because you solve everything! And Derek can be Scrappy because nobody likes him." The conversation had officially reached ridiculous levels.

Scott was lucky he'd drank his shot by the time Stiles had said that last part, Scott erupting into giggles. "We should just knock on his door and when he opens it, there are our butts. Right there," he gestured with his hands. "Two full moons." Look at that, the werewolf was cracking werewolf jokes.

"Why do I always have to play the virgin? I want to be Daphne. Daphne was hot." He took a sip of his beer. "Maybe Derek can be the guy whose mask we take off all the time. 'If it hadn't been for them dagnabbit kids'. Stupid sour wolf."

Stiles laughed, a little of the last of his sip spilling out. "Oh my god. Yes. Yes. That is what we're doing. We're going to go moon Derek and watch him turn into a werebutt."

"But Daphne looks like Lydia." Therefore Stiles couldn't be Daphne.

"I wish we had a camera to record his face." Because they'd probably be too busy butt-flashing (or butt wiggling... yeah, there'd definitely be butt-wiggling) to see Derek's face before he inevitably slammed the door in their faces - or their butts, more accurately.

"Yeah, but Lydia's not stupid. Daphne is." Daphne's only purpose in the show was to give Fred hummers off screen. Everyone knew that. Occasionally Shaggy would slip her a Scooby snack and she'd work on him too. That was Daphne's job.

Eww. Wait. Stiles wasn't giving anyone blow jobs. No way.

"We should get someone else to record it. Minus our butts." No one needed to see his pasty ass flashing across their screen.

"Allison should be Daphne and I should be Fred," Scott decided, since the characters seemed like a couple, but he probably wouldn't have said that if he knew what Stiles was thinking.

"But you're the only person I trust to not record our butts." He couldn't even trust Allison with that job. "Allison would record my butt. Because she loves my butt." Too much information, Scott.

"That's because your butt looks like your face. You and Derek have face butts. Or butt faces. I don't know how it goes."

He tipped his beer back, feeling more than just a buzz by now. "No one wants to record my butt. I'm butt-unrecordable. My butt will go unrecorded in the anals..." He cleared his throat. "The annuls of history."

"So my butt looks like my face but my face looks like a puppy's?" Scott was so confused.

He sniggered at Stiles' slip up. "You said anal..."

"Yes! You have a puppy butt face!" Stiles laughed, lifting his bottle in victory.

"Correction, I said anals. Plural. Multiple anuses. What would you call a group of anuses? A pack of anals? A fart of anuses? What's the group term for plural asses?"

"What? No! I do not!" Being told you had a puppy face was one thing, but a puppy's butt? Stiles had gone too far. "Shut up!"

Scott groaned when Stiles started going off on a tangent. "Dude, I don't know, go look it up in the dictionary stuck up Derek's butt." Not to be confused with Derek's face.

"You totally do." He pushed at Scott's beer. "Drink up, puppy-butt face."

Laughing, he took a sip of his own, somehow managing not to choke on it. "You can slap him in the face and tell him 'oops, I thought it was your butt'." He was almost giggling now, head on the counter of the bar, hand slapping alongside it.

"Noooo." Scott refused to carry on drinking. "Take it back. I don't want to be a puppy-butt face." He wanted to go back to being just a puppy face. He didn't want puppy-butt face to become a thing, which it would be, if Stiles remembered this conversation. Scott probably wouldn't, he was too far gone by now.

"Why would I want to slap him in the face if his face is a butt? That would mean I'd want to slap his butt. I don't wanna slap his butt. Do you want to slap his butt?"

Stiles just chuckled and finished his beer, almost slamming the bottle down in victory. "I win. You are so losing this contest, McCall puppy butt-face." God, he missed Scott. Why hadn't he gotten here sooner?

"Uh..." Let him think about that for a minute. "No. No, I do not want to slap his butt. I want to set it on fire, maybe. Or push it off a cliff. Can we push it off a cliff?"

"Hey, I can totally catch you up..." Except he couldn't remember how many beers Stiles had beaten him to drinking first, even though all he had to do was count the bottles right in front of him. He should probably count them now because in a few beers time, he'd probably start seeing double.

If Scott were sober, he probably would have been worried that Stiles took so long to answer that question. "I don't think you can push just his butt off a cliff. It's kinda attached to the rest of his asshole body."

"Then let's push the whole asshole off the cliff. I'm down for that. No one will miss him, right?" He grinned, clearly impressed with his ingenuity and expert problem solving skills.

He pushed at Scott's bottle again, taunting him. "Is that like, half a bottle left? Dude, are you sure Allison didn't replace your dick with a vagina?"

"Isaac might." Scott had no idea why but he figured Isaac would since Derek was his Alpha. Even if they weren't werewolves here, Derek still acted like an Alpha. He had the strength of one, thanks to his powers. "I don't think there are any cliffs here..."

With Stiles taunting him, Scott downed the rest of his beer and fixed Stiles with a look to shut up about him no longer being a man. "I'll prove it when we go pee." Together, like they were girls who went to the bathroom at the same time.

"We can go on an expedition to find a cliff. It'll be a quest. Isaac can just get over it. Derek's a total dick and if he can't figure that out, there's no helping him."

He snorted and slapped the counter top for two more beers. "If you pee sitting down, I'm going to laugh forever."

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