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“What can I do you for?” the bartender asked as Derek stumbled out of the sunlight and into the bar. It was dim and pretty empty for happy hour. Derek had been in most of the bars along this strip. Every time he hit a wall with his work for the new gallery he would come out, have a drink (or two) and hope no one would try to talk to him.
“What’s the strongest stuff you’ve got?” he asked, his eyes bloodshot from a week of not sleeping. At this point, he didn’t actually need strong--a particularly well mixed daiquiri would probably have him on the floor--but all of his nerves and the most recent creative block called out for more.
“How about this? No one’s had it yet, but it’s supposed to be the closest we can get to absinthe over here,” the bartender responded holding out a bottle, the label held the simple silhouette of a flower and no other distinguishing marks.
“What's it called?" Derek asked.
"Wolfsbane," the Bartender added with a crooked smile.
"Alright, make it a double," Derek said laying his head on the bar top. The bartender looked over at him.
“You know, it’s only like five right?” he asked.
"Make it a double,” Derek repeated. When he looked up there was a teacup sitting in front of him. "What the hell is this?"
I call it a Little Red, double shot of wolfsbane, grenadine, and a cherry," the bartender said with a twinkle in his eye. How had Derek missed those eyes? The glowing amber pools of light. He shook the thought from his head.
"Why is it in a teacup?" He asked, feeling exhausted and about five seconds away from leaving even if he did want to lick that stupid smile off the bartender’s face--what?! The bartender laughed and pointed up to the sign over the bar that read "Cup and Chaucer," and around to the bookcases that lined the room. How had Derek managed to stumble into the one and only themed bar in all of Beacon Hills? Come to think of it, he was pretty sure Beacon Hills didn't have a themed bar.
“Name’s Stiles,” the bartender added, reaching out his hand. Derek didn’t take it. Instead he looked back down at the teacup and then carefully considered the door.
"Why do I feel like I've fallen down the rabbit hole," Derek growled.
"Bro, you look like you fell up it before coming in here. But I can make you a Rabbit Hole if you'd prefer," the bartender started chattering. "Makes me kind of sick, whipped cream and cotton candy flavored vodka with sprite, but my buddy Scott swears by them. Pretty sure it's just because I let Allison come up with it, but what are you gonna do? Dude's smitten." The bartender Stiles --what the hell was a Stiles? Derek thought—rambled on. "Oh, sorry man. The only time this stops," Stiles said motioning towards his mouth. "Is when I'm shoving something in it." Derek's eyebrows shot up at that, thinking about the things he could shove in the man's mouth. "Oh, double entendre," he said smiling his eyes casually dropping to Derek's pants while he reached pulling out two shot glasses. "Help save me from myself?" He asked as he topped them off with whiskey. They shared the shot and Derek made a move to get up from the bar stool but Stiles reached out to stop him. "Dude come on, you have to try the Little Red, it’s on the house.” Derek sighed but still found himself reaching out for the teacup. The concoction was as disgusting as he thought it was going to be, too sweet at first, but then oh woah then it was a little heady, sticking around his tongue, he felt like he was breathing it.
“Shit,” he said gripping the bar.
“Oh fuck, man, are you alright?” Stiles said rushing around the bar. “Here, sit, sit, okay so no doubles on the wolfsbane, got it. Though, to be honest, you asked for a double, dude, what’s your name? Please don’t like pass out here, I’ve only had the place for a week and I’m pretty sure my dad would kill me if he found out I took over the bar and then killed a guy. Fuck seriously.”
“Stiles,” Derek wheezes out.
“Oh god, where’s my phone. Seriously bro, I wouldn’t have put a double in there if I knew you were like--,” But he was cut off by a hand grabbing his arm.
“I’m fine.” Derek said standing again. “I just wasn’t expecting it. It’s good, good, what I asked for,” he said standing.
“Okay, Jesus, don’t scare me like that.” Stiles said heading back to arranging the bar. Derek watched him wipe down the glasses and place them above the bar with his careful then fingers wrapping around each of them delicately. “Heading out?” He asked looking back to where Derek was still standing, staring.
“Uh, yeah,” Derek said heading towards the door. “You’ve only been open for a week? You said, right?” Indulging his curiosity in a way that he would later attribute to an alcohol induced psychosis.
“Oh yeah, my dad owned this place like 15 years ago, it burned down, but he never sold. So, I took it over and rebuilt it into this. Kinda cool, huh? Next time someone asks you what you’re going to do with a degree in comparative lit you can tell them where to shove it, ya know? Well not you, me, I can tell them where to shove it because I’m an entrepreneur,” he said barely taking a beat. “Though, I guess you could be too. I don’t think I got your name--,” He started, but noticed Derek giving him the same pained expression. “Sorry, yeah, a week.”
“And that’s your drink menu,” he asked pointing up at the list of drinks in varied fonts lining the far wall. There were easily a hundred of them.
“Yep?” Stiles answered suspiciously.
“It’s pretty dead in here. People have tried everything?” Derek asked feeling suddenly kind of anxious.
“Oh, we’re not a really a happy-hour place. I’m only open now because I had to do some inventory and re-stock for the Friday rush tonight. Figured I’d turn on the lights, welcome the company. We’re more the after party.”
“The after party?” Derek said suspiciously wondering how much of an after party a bar with drinks like the--did that say Dorian Gray?-- could be.
“I can see what you’re thinking. You should come back tonight, around 11. Best party in town. I’ll bet you a --,” he starts, turning his face sideways, considering. “a Golden Ticket,” he says with a mischievous glint. Derek heads out the door without answering, still a bit dizzy from the drink, but suddenly inspired.
He worked for the next 5 hours straight. When he finally looked up it was just after eleven o’clock and he was considering just heading to bed. But, it couldn’t hurt to grab a beer. He’d just sit in the back of the bar… it was more for research than anything else.
When he made it into the Cup and Chaucer the place looked completely different dimly lit in various hues from the lights above the bar. It looked much more like a club than the quaint bar he had walked into earlier in the day. He walked up to the bar planning to order a beer, and was not in any way disappointed when Stiles wasn’t there to greet him. And if he glanced around to survey the room, well, no one needed to know.
“Hey are you Alice?” asked a brunette coming around from behind the bar. Derek responded with raised eyebrows. “You must be,” she said smiling her dimples visible even under the dimmed light. “Stiles said to look out for a scowling guy around 6 feet, dark hair, kind of gorgeous if you get past the eyebrows.” Derek’s hand shot up to his eyebrows reflexively, causing her to chuckle and, yep, she had a laugh that matched her fairy tale smile. “Okay, I’m Allison and you sit--,” she started but her eyes darted over to the corner of the room where a group of college kids were standing around with beers in their hands consoling their friend. Everyone else in the room was dancing to whatever top 40 hit was playing on the speakers, but there were a few groups sitting in chairs or off to corners. Derek couldn’t really tell what had grabbed Allison’s attention. He could only hear the tail end of their conversation but her smile had grown twice as wide upon hearing the girl in the group’s sympathetic “nah man, the grass is always greener, ya know?”
“You’re going to love this,” Allison said reaching below the bar to flip a switch. All of a sudden the letter P lit up on the wall across room along with a couple of other letters. When Derek squinted he could tell that the sign was meant to read catastrophe when entirely lit. “PROVERBBBBB!” Allison screamed. The bar lights dimmed and a spotlight fell on the group in the corner, who looked understandably mortified by the attention. A few more lights came up on tables around the room and the crowd started to whisper excitedly. A girl with strawberry blonde hair and stilettos stood on one table clapping her hands above her head and shaking with a beat that hadn’t started yet, another woman with blonde locks took to the table closest to Derek as music started up in the background, and a boy with shaggy brown hair and a guitar knelt on a table across the room, starting to strum.
“You, you don’t know how lucky you are....” a voice started through the stereo. Derek found it suspiciously familiar and as soon as the chorus hit, he realized why.
Stiles came out on a makeshift stage of tables down the center of the room, he was dressed in skinny jeans, a wife beater, a jacket with tails and --who the hell owns a top hat?-- Derek thought incredulously. With every step he took towards the front of the bar, one of the others placed a new table in front of him until he made it all the way to the bar. There was something mesmerizing about his movements as he knelt down to take the hand of the girl who had originally set off the song.
“I just want to taaaake someone else’s holiday, sometimes the grass is greener, and someone else’s sugar, someone else’s sugar’s sweeter.” Stiles danced with the girl on the bar, signing to her, and swaying his hips with the music. He took off his top hat and placed on the girl laughing as he let her escape the embarrassment. He continued moving up and down the bar until the song ended.
“Thank you for our first proverb of the night,” he said towards the girl as he hopped off the bar. The lights returned to their previous dim and music came back up as the bar continued to fill with people. “Allison, water,” Stiles panted over the bar.
“Your Alice showed up,” she said handing him the water and nodding towards.
“Mmmmm,” Stiles murmured downing the drink and heading towards Derek. “You came,”
“You told her my name was Alice.” Derek said flatly.
“Well, you were my inspiration,” Stiles said tipping his hat. “Thought, I’d follow you down the rabbit hole tonight.”
“Who says I’m planning to go down the rabbit hole?” Derek asked. Was he flirting?
“You did. You came,” Stiles said smiling as he scooted in against Derek. The place was now crawling with people swaying and dancing to the music and ordering ridiculous drinks at the bar. Stiles placed his arm over Derek’s shoulder starting to move with the music, but Derek stayed still, taking a step back. Stiles rolled his eyes and sighed. “Ally -- make me a Golden Ticket,” he asked reaching over the bar. She handed him the drink and he shoved it at Derek.
“What is this?”
“Golden Ticket, duh,” he responded smiling. The dark drink had piece of gold leaf at the bottom. Derek took a sip, and stared at it.
“This is entirely chocolate,” he said looking at Stiles suspiciously.
“Not entirely,” Stiles said mischievously as he started to move through the crowd.
Against his better judgment, Derek found himself sticking around the bar, watching people come up and order ridiculous drink after ridiculous drink. He chatted with Allison as she told him about how Stiles had wanted to open this place since High School and spent most of college coming up with the drinks list. He found out that the catastrophe thing was kind of an in-joke because Stiles’s dad wasn’t entirely thrilled with the idea of his son having a bar, but that they hadn’t had a full out c-a-t-a-s-t-r-o-p-h-e just yet but opening night they had gotten pretty close. By 1AM Derek had tried a Scarlet Letter, which was basically just Bourbon, and settled on sucking down Blue Moons for the rest of the night. He learned that while Stiles owned the bar he’d dragged his friends into running it with him; that Lydia rocked the killer heels, but the blonde, Erica was the vicious one, and that Allison seemed just as smitten with the shaggy-haired Scott as Stiles had mentioned Scott was with Allison. He watched Stiles move around the crowd, jumping up on the table every time another letter was lit up on the board. Derek was particularly pleased to find out what a simile got the crowd as the group stripped off their tops. Allison blushed in her sequined bra and explained that each night it was different, they all had to agree on the way to “make the audience smile” for simile.
Somewhere around 4AM Derek realized the crowd had thinned significantly when he heard the music cut out abruptly and everyone go still. He saw Stiles sitting in a chair in the far corner, the mic held close to his mouth as he started to sing against the silence. Closing time, open all the doors and let you out into the world. Closing time, turn all of the lights on over every boy and every girl. Lydia pulled a keyboard out onto the bar and started playing as she winked at Allison. Closing time, one last call for alcohol so finish your whiskey or beer. Closing time, you don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here. Derek found himself laughing as the doors opened and Allison switched on the lights. Stiles looked directly at him as the guitarist started strumming along with the song, and Erica pulled out a base and he continued to warble over the lyrics. Derek shook his head. I know who I want to take me home. They played the full song with the music cutting out at the end and Stiles returning to back to the seat for the last line. Every new beginning comes from some other beginnings end.
After that the crowd stumbled in twos and threes out the door. Derek could hear them chatting as they left “oh man, I love this place,” or “I can’t believe you got cliché, I told you bro.” He found himself stuck to the bar stool waiting for everyone else to filter out. Stiles smiled, eyes heavy clearly exhausted after the night.
“So, you gonna pay for that Golden Ticket?” Stiles asked smiling.
“Yeah,” Derek said nonchalantly turning towards him.
“Best party in town right?” Stiles asked taking a step closer to Derek.
“Yeah,” Derek said smiling as Stiles inched closer. Stiles let out a shuttered breath, glancing down to Derek’s lips.
“So, you gonna take me home?” Stiles asked point blank. Derek rolled his eyes, looking away momentarily.
“Ye--,” he started, but was cut off by Stiles’s mouth crashing into his. Derek grabbed him by the lapels and wrapped his arm under the jacket. As Stiles’s arms came around his neck and a low moan escaped his lips.
“My what big teeth you have,” he said breathless his head on Derek’s shoulder.
“So now I’m the big bad wolf?” Derek asked and Stiles laughed, pulling him by the hand.
“Scott’s in charge!” He shouted to the group starting to wipe down tables and move things around as he pulled Derek across the room.
“Where are we going?” Derek asked.
“I really want to make the ‘to grandmother’s house’ joke,” Stiles snickered. “But that feels really inappropriate. So, we’re going upstairs to my apartment.”
Derek laughed, but followed. It still felt more like down the rabbit hole.
The end.