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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"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."

"But what if we accidentally fell down a cliff into a canyon like that movie with whatshisface--" Scott was thinking of James Franco "--and one of us has to cut off one of our arms." Scott looked horrified at the thought, not that there was a strong possibility of this happening. Or any possibility for that matter.

"I'm not gonna pee sitting down, you ass." But talking about peeing made him feel like he should probably pee after having so many drinks. "I should probably pee soon." Except peeing meant peeing away the alcohol in his system.

"Scott... If we fell down a cliff and got stuck and were starving, you could totally chew off my arm to survive. I mean, like, if it was some mix of that movie with the soccer team in the Alps and being stuck in a rock and you had to eat somebody, you could have my arm. Just not my right one. I use that. For stuff. And things."

Their beer arrived and Stiles realized that all this talking about pee was making him, well, have to pee. "Then let us away to the bathroom, good man. We shall unleash the mighty streams, no crossing, dude, and then I can make sure you're still my Scott with a dick and not some weird mangina bear pig thing or something."

Scott didn't know whether to feel touched that Stiles was giving him his permission to eat his arm if he needed to. "I'm not eating you ever." Stiles always going on about Scott wanting to eat him back home just because of that one time Scott almost did. "Dude, you might want to switch hands when you're doing stuff and things," which Scott was pretty sure meant jerking off, "or your right arm is gonna end up looking like Popeye's." Just a friendly warning from your best friend, Stiles.

"Let's just go," Scott sighed at the disturbing words that were coming out of his best friend's mouth, as per usual, as he got up off his stool and put an arm around Stiles' shoulders, leading him to the bathroom. It probably looked a little gay to the rest of the people in the bar but most people tended to take their affection for each other the wrong way.

He gave Scott a very serious look, all his attention focused on the next two words. "I do." He was an advocate of ambidexterity during certain activities. The last thing he wanted was to break his dominant arm and be stuck having to hump a pillow to get off or something equally lacking. No. He could make due with both hands, thank you. And his feet, but that was only one time and he'll never mention it ever. Ever, Scott.

Stiles slipped off the stool, his arm around Scott as they went to the bathroom. "You know, I'm kind of bummed that you've been here a whole year and I wasn't. Well, I was, but I don't remember. What's up with that? What kind of crap is that? Did I do something so horrible or scarring that they just thought, 'Hey, let's make sure he never ever remembers that ever again', and just chucked the whole thing out? How do they do that, Scott. How. Do. They. Do. That?"

"I. Don't. Know," Scott copied Stiles as he pushed open the bathroom door and let go of his shoulder because it would be pretty weird to keep his arm there while they peed. That would definitely look odd.

Scott walked up to a urinal and unzipped his fly. "Well, I already told you the one horrible thing you did..." Telling Allison about her mom, which he totally forgave Stiles for. "Was I not meant to tell you that?" Crap, what if he wasn't supposed to tell Stiles and they were going to send him home to erase his memory?!

Thanks to that thought, Scott suddenly looked like he was having the most uncomfortable pee of his life.

Stiles ignored any and all bathroom etiquette rules to clap a hand on Scott's shoulder, gripping there as he leaned in. "They won't take you, Scott. We'll hide you under my bed. They'll never look there."

Nodding at that and feeling like that was the best solution ever thought of in the history of time, he let go of Scott and turned to relieve his own needs. Of the urination kind. Eww, get your mind out of the gutter. ~~Not when there were people watching.~~

"I don't think that was horrible, really. I mean, it was sad, yeah, but if Allison was trying to get it out of me, it was really only a matter of time. She's scary, Scott. I think it's perfect you guys got together, because if she flips out and goes all psycho chick on you, you'll heal it and grow your dick back or something."

His own in hand, he turns and gives Scott a confused look. "Oh, wait. You can't do that anymore, can you. You might want to wear a cup to bed or something."

Edited (bad spelling) 2013-06-26 01:11 (UTC)

Scott rolled his eyes when Stiles expressed his fear of Allison. "She's not scary, Stiles. She's Allison," he said, if that made any sense. "If she were any of the Spice Girls, she'd be Sporty Spice, not the scary one. So shut up."

Scott looked a little tense when Stiles talked about Allison going "psycho chick" because that's what Isaac had warned him about and they'd even fallen out about it because Scott had refused to believe him. He'd now accepted that in the future Allison would not take her grief over her mom's death very well, thanks to Gerard. That didn't make him love her any less.

The comment about wearing a cup earned a smack around the back of Stiles' head, with the hand Scott wasn't using to hold himself right now. "Knock it off."

The smack had him almost falling into the urinal if only because he hadn't been expecting it. "Dude!" He almost turned, self still in hand, to gape at Scott. He stopped himself at the last minute, settling for a glare at Scott. Rude, bro.

"You need to like, unclench or something. Jesus. You don't make a man almost fall in his own pee over a girl."

He shook himself before tucking back in his pants, going to the bathroom sink and continuing to glare at Scott in the mirror. "Asgard has changed you, man. Changed. You. You're all mean and you like Isaac and you're beyond whipped."

Scott couldn't help but laugh a little when Stiles almost fell in his own pee, though he wouldn't find it so funny having to hang around his best friend smelling like pee all night.

"Why are you talking like Asgard is prison?" Scott thought about what he said as he finished relieving himself. "Okay, maybe it's a little like a prison..." Once he zipped himself back he moved to wash his hands in the sink before standing behind Stiles to look back at him in the mirror. "Are we fighting? You know I don't like it when we fight... Let's hug it out."

Scott hugged Stiles from behind, which probably wasn't a good idea because someone came into the bathroom at the precise moment Scott had Stiles up against a sink. What could he say? He was an affectionate drunk.

Scott was an affectionate everything. Drunk or not, Stiles could expect to be pounced upon for the dreaded hug at any given moment.

Good thing Stilinski men were very comfortable expressing their emotions. He tried to hug Scott back, but it was kind of hard when he'd been taken by surprise from behind (in a non buttsex kind of way) and his arms didn't bend that way. The appearance was ridiculously comical, but he did get to sort of pat Scott's arms, ignoring the quirked brow of the man who'd come in to also relieve himself.

"It better not be prison, because I am not the bitch, Scott. No way. Are you wiping your puppy butt-face sweat on me? You are, aren't you? I'm going to find puppy butt-face sweat all over my shirt later."

"Dude, why'd you have to ruin a nice moment by bringing up sweat?" Scott complained, though there were better places to be having this moment rather than a public bathroom, but beggars can't be choosers when said beggars are drunk.

"Did you remember to look at my dick?" Because Stiles was meant to check after all the jokes about Scott having a vagina now. He probably shouldn't have asked that though, at least not with the third wheel in the room (aka the stranger peeing) overhearing everything they were saying.

"No. I was too busy trying not to get pee all over myself. You wanna whip it out so I can see it's a real one and not some detachable hose thing?" Stiles grinned back at Scott over his shoulder, completely oblivious to said third wheel in the room. The shots were hitting him now and it was this nice, warm buzz that settled over him. Scott? Scott was the best. The bestest best in the whole best. No wait, that was one too many bests. Shit. Take one of those out and replace it with another word, because that was totally what he meant.

"Aaw, it's okay, I'll buy you a potty." Scott squeezed Stiles with his arms one last time before letting him go.

"I'm not whipping it out now, man." That required way too much effort. Besides, letting Stiles have a glance while he was peeing was one thing, but getting it out specifically so Stiles could have a look? That was probably pushing the boundaries of their friendship a little too much. "You can look next time we pee, okay?" He promised Stiles, clapping him on the shoulder. "Come on, let's get out of here."

He threw his hands up like it was the most reasonable request in the world and he'd just been shot down. "Fine, fine. Let's go continue to contribute to the delinquency of minors. You're still standing and your words make sense, therefore you're not nearly drunk enough."

Stiles headed for the door, holding it open and dropping a low bow while sweeping his arm out for Scott to precede him. "After you." He looked back at the guy in the bathroom as Scott passed him, wondering at the look on his face. "What?" Then he rolled his eyes and followed after his best bestie who ever bested.

"That guy was weird," Scott commented once they were back by the bar like they weren't the weird ones hugging in a bathroom and talking about looking at each other's dicks. Well, less so each other's, more so Scott's.

"I'd like two more of these," Scott told the barman, gesturing to their empty beer bottles, "and more of these," he pointed to their empty shot glasses. "But with alcohol in them." Good job ordering, Scott.

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