2020.02.05 - T.M.I.
This log follows the story from: 2020.01.27 - Skitch, Meet Alpha No. 2
The story continues in: 2020.02.11 - Settling Stuff
Port-Au-Feu - Main Street
Main Street, Sangria. This long, perfectly straight street runs the entire length of the city -- and like any large city, there is a constant dull roar of activity. Cars and pedestrians fill the streets, passing by the restaurants and shops of the commercial district, or moving around the bases of the skyscrapers that form the financial district. Amidst this sea of people and cars, the glows of signs and street lamps stand almost like beacons- and on the sides, streets -- large and small -- branch off, leading to neighborhoods sheltered from the sound of the city.
It's not officially a date. Just an evening of hanging out and messing around. And, honestly, Skitch has had a fun evening with Scott, thus far. The food at the restaurant was good, and the movie they'd gone to was a good blend of comedy and action. (They even saw most of it.) And now, walking back to where the Love Bus is parked, he's shaking his head. "That was a lot better than I thought it would be," he says to the alpha, leaning against him slightly as they walk. "I didn't think Hugh Jackman could be that funny. I thought it was all abs and musical numbers."
Scott, his arm around Skitch's shoulders, grins and says, "You mean you didn't think he was hilarious as Wolverine?" He's clearly joking, as evidenced by the playful expression, and adds, "I always forget he can sing, weirdly. I guess he's kinda known for that?" He looks a bit sheepish and admits, "I'm not a huge movie buff. Stiles had to give me crap for years before I actually got around to seeing Star Wars.' He looks up at the sky and then around at the streets. "This city's really cool, though. I'm liking hanging out here."
Abs and musical numbers? Why, that's a great description of Dean's life! Though not because he's been in any musical numbers of note, more because there's always some music playing on the long car trips he takes with his brother (and sometimes brothers), and Sam has abs for days. He could probably donate his excess abs to the underprivileged.
Right now, those abs are walking attached to Sam Winchester, beside Dean on the sidewalk. Sam's watching his phone more than the path ahead of him, and Dean is busy looking around where they are. There's a lot to see on Main Street, even at night.
Including, it seems, the Love Bus. "Hey!" Dean elbows Sam, who grunts in protest. "Look, it's Skitch and the bus! And..." He narrows his eyes. "Is that Scott from Beacon Hills?"
It's Sam's turn to narrow his eyes after that. "Yeah," he answers. "I think it is."
It's terrible, but Dean can't be sure because Scott's wearing a shirt and is standing slightly too far away for him to make out at this hour. "Yeah! Let's go over and say hi!" And before Sam can say anything, Dean's lit off in the pair's direction, throwing up a hand to wave. "Hey!" He calls out in a bellowing voice that turns heads. "Skitchy! Scotty!"
"I can't think about him as Wolverine in public," Skitch quips about Jackman, grinning at Scott and bumping him with his hip. "And I refuse to talk about your poor upbringing." He laughs, and leans into the other teenager when he talks about the city. "It's definitely been a nice surprise," he murmurs, exhaling a contented sort of sound.
Speaking of surprises, there's Dean shouting at them, and Skitch can't help either the slight coloring of his cheeks or the small stiffening of his back. He covers it fairly well, though, offering a bright smile Dean's way and lifting a hand in greeting. "Hey, Dean! Sam!"
Scott is saved from any further immediate demonstration of pop culture ignorance by the timely arrival of Sam and Dean. Grinning wider as Dean approaches, he up-nods to him and says, "Hey, Dean! What're you doing here?" Then, when Skitch calls out to them, too, he blinks at him and looks surprised. "Whoa! You know Sam and Dean, too? Man, they must really get around!" He squeezes Skitch's shoulders and smiles, clearly pleased to have people he knows also prove to know each other.
"Oh yeah, we get around. Just ask Skitchy here, he'll tell you all about my lack of pants and everything." Dean smirks, giving a little friendly rib. Oh yeah, he's going there. After meeting Skitch's less-than-impressed mother at the diner, he's not likely to let this drop anytime soon. "How you been? Adjusting to the East Coast any?"
Sam rolls his eyes, but he's kind of resolved to the situation. At least Skitch's mother liked Sam.
Skitch, to his credit, doesn't color any further at the reminder of a naked Dean, but he definitely is lost in the memory for a moment before he nods. "Yeah, I gave Dean a ride into town a couple of weeks ago," he says, trying to sound cool about it. And failing, really. "We've hung out a couple of times." He gives Sam a bright smile that might be a touch too wide. See? He's totally cool. Maybe not so much his mother.
"Oh, cool," Scott says cheerfully, and then it just slips out, without him even thinking, "I've met Skitch without pants, too! Both of us!" Then his eyes widen slightly and he gets a mild case of oh shit I said that out loud face. A beat later, he offers a weak smile and says, "Um. Anyway! Cool. Glad you guys are friends, too. We just saw a movie. What're you guys up to?" Smooth moves may not exactly be his thing, but he has the uncanny ability to just keep floundering on with well-meaning sincerity right past the awkwardness.
"HA!" Dean just bursts that out, looking to Sam as if it proves something or wins a debate forever. See! Other guys meet each other without pants! It's not just Dean.
For a moment, the familiar long-suffering expression returns to Sam's face. He adopts something of a pained, if neutral, smile, breathing deeply and visibly in through his nose and out again. It's easy to see his broad chest rise and fall with his shoulders.
"We were just exploring. 'Bout to go back to the hotel and see what's on the menu for dinner." Dean jerks his thumb over his shoulder, back in the direction of the now a little distant 1st Avenue.
"Or maybe pick up some food at the grocery store," Sam amends, since room service can rack up a lot of charges, and they don't want to impose *too* much on the hospitality of the witches there. It never is a great idea to annoy witches, if you can help it.
And that, dear children, is how Skitch died. On the main street of Port-au-Fe, with the words of Scott McCall ringing in his ears as the flesh of his face melted away. At least that's what it feels like. Skitch has also become paralyzed, only able to stare helplessly at Dean and Sam as the fire consumes him. "Yes. Movie. It was funny." He can hear his voice, but there's no one actually manning the station. "Hugh Jackman took his shirt off."
It takes a minute for his brain to catch back up, and he blinks twice when it comes back online, blushing again, and leaning into Scott just a bit. "Oh, yeah, The Hotel. You guys are all moved in? How is it?" See? He can make normal conversation.
Scott gives Skitch an apologetic look, rather more sheepishly than before, and tries to move past the awkwardness. "Um. We had dinner at a place, and it was pretty good, but, uh... if you wanna get food, I like, uh--well, I bet they'd feed you at Rowanwood, where I'm staying. Or if you wanna go somewhere in town, I've got some meal tickets for this club that has a restaurant." For some reason, when he mentions this, Scott goes very heavily crimson, right to the tips of his ears, struggling to keep a relaxed expression. He clears his throat some and asks, a little lamely, "Wait, you're living at a hotel?"
"Hotel Oktober, yeah." Sam answers Scott. "The witches are turning it into some kind of...shelter or something. I think. We were asked to keep an eye on things and help out if we can."
"So we thought we'd take care of the things we do best!" Dean announces, very proudly. "But uh, if you're offering, we could go to that restaurant or Rowanwood." If there's one thing that Dean Winchester loves, it's being offered food that he didn't have to cook himself. Especially when it's good food, which if they go to Rowanwood, he knows it will be. It will be spectacular, mind-blowing food that he can completely stuff himself with and snore it off after, in front of a warm fire, with a handmade blanket covering him.
Dean's eyes gloss over as he gazes into that potential future.
"So, Hugh Jackman took off his shirt." Sam smiles a little wider, tentatively. "Sounds like you two had fun."
Skitch furrows his brow a bit at Scott's furious blush, but since he's just come back from being nearly literally on fire himself, he makes a note to ask about it later. "I'll have to come by and check out your digs," he says to the brothers, managing to actually make it through that memory. "It looks like a nice place from outside." He grins, which lasts exactly until Sam reminds him of his previous babbling, and he colors yet again. "Oh. Yeah. I don't know how germane it was to the plot, but it was nice." He slips an arm around Scott's back, and pulls him in warmly. "It was a blast." Lifting his eyebrows, he looks around the group. So, we're doing food together, then? I could totally eat again."
Scott seems settled by Skitch's side-hug, which he returns happily, even nuzzling against him slightly. He has got, he reflects, to introduce Skitch to Liam. Stiles always managed to make having multiple romantic partners seem so easy, in the past, but since Scott's begun branching out, he's realized it can be a little more complicated than that. Of course, he silently reflects, Stiles got started on that thanks to Lance, and Lance is definitely one of the more unusual people Scott's ever met, being a Knight of Hell and all. Maybe that makes it easier. Or harder. Who knows? Out loud, he just grins again and says, "So, um, do you guys want home cooking or fancy restaurant? They're in opposite directions, but the restaurant's probably closer. It's over in Le Jardin."
"It's a nice hotel," Sam answers Skitch. "I'm sure you can come by anytime, since you're...well, on the team. So to speak." Another tentative, wider smile. That's his go-to expression, like he's hopeful, when all is said and done, that it will be adequate for the conversation but he secretly believes it probably won't.
Dean snaps out of his momentary fantasy when he realizes that Scott is asking him a question specifically. "Oh, uh, wherever. Long as it's good food, I'm good with it!" He wears that half-goofy smile that he only shows to people he's comfortable with.
The Sylvan Court - Café
The café seems to strike a balance between coffee house coziness and fine dining. The floor is tiled in brown and green stone carved with interlocking leaf patterns. As in the entry hall, the walls are ensorcelled to depict a vibrant forest setting, and wooden pillars that resemble living trees stretch up into the ceiling. The ceiling here is high but flat, with leafy branches from the pillars partly obscuring several skylights. The edges of the room are dedicated to ornate booths, made from wood carved to resemble more trees and set with plush green velvet cushions. The tables are finely crafted mahogany, the walls lit by small sconces that blend in with the forest theme. In the center of the room, various tables echo the style of the booths, with finely carved wooden chairs fitted with red velvet cushions surrounding oval-shaped mahogany tables. The north end of the room features a finely carved, intricately detailed wooden coffee bar, where various beverages can be obtained. Beside it is a dessert counter, featuring a wide array of decadent treats. Behind the bar and counter, a set of double doors lead into the kitchen. Archways formed by living trees open northwest into the cocktail lounge and west into the entry hall.
Scott leads the others the few blocks to the restaurant: which turns out to be the extravagantly upscale Sylvan Court. Scott seems fairly self-conscious in a grinning, sheepish way as he leads them through the entryway and, instead of into the club proper, into the adjoining cafe. He pauses when greeted by a host, who greets him by name, and soon enough they're being seated in a comfortable booth, with Scott and Skitch seated across from Dean and Sam. The menus are fairly small, featuring a mixture of more affordable and pricier options. So, as they settle in, Scott offers another smile, his ears still red, and says lamely, "It's a pretty nice place, huh?"
Skitch seems a bit uncertain at the poshness of the club's entry, picking a bit at his own clothing. While it's nice enough for a Not Date, it's not quite at the level this place seems to encourage. So he's weirdly quiet as they're led to their booth, sliding in next to Scott and holding his menu almost like a shield. "Dude," he says in answer to Scott, his voice low and worried. "This is, like, really nice. I don't know." He wrinkles his nose, looking sidelong across the table. "I mean, have you seen Dean eat?"
The Brothers Winchester are both struck silent as they walk into this place. Despite all the back-and-forth on the way, it's pretty posh. Really posh. Crazy posh, like if the Spice Girl went on a spree of fury and destruction that somehow ended up creating an upscale restaurant. One that looks like it would be perfect in a wealthy theater's presentation of "A Midsummer Night's Dream", no less!
"Are you sure we can eat here?" Dean finally asks, looking around to make sure they haven't stumbled into the wrong place, and that looking around will somehow tell him that.
Scott's smile falters at the questions, and he ducks his head a bit and starts to look actively worried. "I mean, we're allowed and stuff. I, uh... actually know the owner? And, I know it looks all crazy, but it doesn't have a special dress code or anything. It's all paid for from this, uh... promotional event... that I got invited to. But if you don't like it, we can always leave and go someplace else? I think there's a burger and taco place somewhere down the road."
"It's just really nice," Skitch says, reaching over to grab Scott's hand and squeeze it. "I'm not used to eating in places like this, is all." He picks up his menu again, this time holding less defensively. "It kind of reminds me of Idao's place, back home. His magic shop was super nice like this. But he was fae, so he liked things all duded up and a bit showy." He seems to be relaxing, knowing that Scott's in with the owner and the humongous guy at the door of the lounge isn't going to appear and pitch them across the street. "So, what's good here?"
"No, uh, if you're good for it, sure!" Dean gives a thumbs up and starts to look through the menu, with the eyes of a hungry man bordering on ravenous appetite, as he always seems to be. He could always eat, if he had to. And as far as he's concerned, he has to every time there's an opportunity to add delicious food to his stomach.
Sam glances over the menu, clearing his throat quietly, self-consciously, and glancing around again. He doesn't say anything else about the place, but it still does concern him. They just never eat at places this fancy. "Duded...up?"
Scott perks up as Skitch takes his hand, and he grins at him, though he still looks self-conscious as all hell. "Oh, yeah. I'm good for it. It's one of the perks I got for signing up for that auction thing at the opening and all that, plus a membership or whatever. It's a cool place, even if it's kind of over the top, y'know?" Seeming to settle back into something like a comfort zone, he looks to Skitch and then Dean, grinning, and says, "Actually? They do this mushroom burger and fries with, I think, truffle oil? It's really good."
"Duded up," Skitch nods at Sam. "You know, fancified? Id liked a lot of brass and glass and shiny wood." He grins across the table, and nods at Scott. "Membership? That alone makes this place sound swanky." He give Scott a mischievous smile, and bumps him with his shoulder. "I guess 'rank has its privileges', after all." He snickers a bit, and slaps his menu down on the table when Scott answers his earlier question. "Sold!" he says of the suggested burger. "I don't even know what truffle oil is, and I'm in."
"Duded up sounds like you're either putting dicks around as decorations, or you're making it more average." Dean chimes in, closing the menu and giving a nod to Scott. "Sounds good, I'm goin' for it but it better be good." He breaks into a grin. Sam's sweet potato fries were likewise a hit, and Dean can be pretty adventurous when he wants to be.
Sam nods, collecting Dean's menu and placing it with his own, setting them near the outer edge of the table so they can be taken by the waiter. "That sounds good to me too."
The menus are soon swept away and replaced with drink orders. Scott's decided to be what strikes him as sophisticated and, since they're technically in a cafe, ordered a fancy cup of coffee. He doesn't have a super refined palate, but he does have a super sensitive one on account of being a werewolf, so he can at least be sure that he really likes the stuff, even if he has no explicitly culinary idea why. (Hey, he's studying biology, not gastronomy.) He gives Dean a sly, crooked grin as he picks up his cup of coffee and says, "I promise it's really good! At least, if you like mushrooms and cheese with long names. Oh, by the way, they have really good pie for dessert. Stiles totally freaked out over their cherry pie for some reason. It was like watching a T-rex attack... well, pie."
Skitch's drink is likewise coffee, but it's only fancy in that it's being served here. Otherwise, it comes sans accoutrement beyond the cream and sugar the blonde adds to it. "Vegetables are our friends, Dean," he says, teasing the older man a bit with a playful grin. "They help us grow." Then, as that may be a bit too far, he lets it go, blowing gently on his coffee before taking a sip. When Scott mentions dessert, he brightens. "Cherry pie? Dude. I love cherry pie. We are definitely getting some of that." He nods firmly. If it comes with a Stile recommendation, he's not going to pass it up. "Fair warning: I might also go full raptor on it. That burger, too. I'm not scared of unpronounceable cheeses."
Dean starts chuckling to himself at the descriptive image of Stiles attacking pie. "Sounds good to me. I promise, I'll make Stiles look like a totally rational amateur when it comes to dessert." He's not the kind of guy who would ignore something potentially greater of a pleasure for his stomach, for any reason. "I know all about that kinda stuff, Skitchy. There's this really great place just down the road from the Tiki Inn, this place we stay in NorCal. Vegan place, Sammy here decided to try it. Just sayin': sweet potato fries."
Sam looks proud at this. He views it as a great accomplishment, especially since Dean has seen fit to mention it again, as he tends to when the topic comes up. "They have really good food," he adds. "Even the salads are really substantive and packed with nutrition."
Scott grins and says, "Sure, and the cherry's really great, but you know what's even better?" He leans forward a bit and announces dramatically, "Chocolate cherry pie! They've got two kinds, one that's like a chocolate pie with cherries in it, and the other that's like a normal cherry pie with chocolate crust. They have vanilla--or whatever normal cherry pie crust flavor is--too." His stomach chooses then to growl loudly, and he blushes all over again. They ate earlier, but he is a Teen Wolf, after all. It goes with the territory. He takes an awkward sip of coffee, the looks at each of the others again, wearing that open and warm grin of his. "So, um. Wanna talk about anything besides food?"
"Oh my god," Skitch groans at the mention of the chocolate cherry pie, and he can't help leaning heavily into Scott with a wide smile. "I thought this wasn't a date, and now you're trying to freaking seduce me." He reaches up to ruffle the alpha behind his ear before retreating to what might considered a 'safe' distance. He nods at Scott's question, turning his attention on the brothers. "Yeah. Are you guys working on something? 'Cause I am in the dead time before finals, and free for research-type things, if you need it."
The description of this pie is not only surprising, it's a very welcome surprise for Dean. His jaw goes slack, and he just stares at Scott.
Sam, noting this and waiting in vain for his brother to say anything, finally just steps in for him instead. "We're just settling in at the moment," he explains. "But I'm sure there's plenty of stuff going on that we can get into. I think Angel's going to be hanging around the hotel too, so that should mean plenty of mysteries around, if you're interested."
Nodding along with Sam, Scott says, "Yeah, Angel's always getting into something. He's like a detective, basically. But also a champion good guy type." He almost goes on to talk about that time last year when they all stopped the Apocalypse, but he decides just in time that it might be a bit much to go into over dinner, even second dinner. So, instead, he looks back to Skitch and says, "We're kind of here getting away from things a little. Beacon Hills is kind of... crazy, to be honest. This is really the first time we've all gotten away since... ever?" More to the point, sine that time Derek's crazy uncle bit him and turned him into a werewolf, buuut again... probably not the best dinner conversation.
"Angel is the guy that helped with the Time-pocalypse?" Skitch verifies, looking among the three but focusing on the Winchesters, the source of his information. "But he's not an actual Angel." He wrinkles his nose, furrowing his brow deeply. "Man. It must have been super crazy if you ran across the country to get away from it." He reaches over and squeezes Scott's hand reassuringly. "Here's hoping it stays quiet around here, then. But with a witch school and hotel and stuff...." He shrugs, not wanting to jinx anything by actually putting it out in the universe. Especially here, where it feels like the Universe is just waiting for the chance.
"Right." Sam nods to Skitch. "That's him."
They've had this conversation over food before. This is like the second coming of the Dinner Apocalypse Conversation. If Skitch has been able to retain really anything that the Winchesters told him up to now, it speaks highly of him.
"I wouldn't say we ran across the country to get away from it," Dean corrects, holding up a hand. "More like we found more stuff to do over here that we really needed to do. That maybe only we can do."
Scott blinks at the revelation that Skitch knew, but he smiles at having his hand squeezed. "Oh, okay. So you know! That makes it way easier." He grins at Dean, though, and says, "I mean, me and some of the others *kind of* did? But it was probably more of a... well, Derek thought we needed to experience more of werewolf culture or something. I know he's got his reasons for us all being here, but it's also kinda been like a vacation, and I'm definitely okay with that." He does nod seriously at the mention of all the possibilities of what "could go wrong" here, though. Clearly, this part of the world is no quieter than the one he knows.
Skitch accepts the answer from Dean, even if he doesn't look like he buys it completely. Scott's answer seems a bit more on point, and he nods at the other teenager. "I mean, I'm glad you guys are here, but it's also kind of weird that you were all there together and now you're all here together..." he inhales deeply through his nose, and spreads his hands. "I may be a man of science, but I've been around enough magic to know that coincidence is kind of bullshit." He purses his lips, pulling his mouth to one side thoughtfully. "I'm gonna have to get better at fighting," he mutters into his coffee.
"Nah, it ain't a coincidence." Dean shifts in his seat, and he nudges Skitch's foot with the tip of his boot. Ha! Turnabout is fair play! He can be fancy and quote Shakespeare too, even while doing what he called playing footsie, at the diner. "We all know each other, so this was more like...more like we wanted to be here, 'cause it seemed like the thing to do. We weren't payin' enough attention to this side of the country, so...why not!"
Sam nods in agreement, sitting back and seeming not to notice his brother's shenanigans. "I don't think there was anything Dean and I could do for the moment on the West Coast. We've been traveling back and forth, all over the country, ever since it all started."
Scott grins at Skitch, though he also shoots Dean a bit of playful side-eye. Werewolf senses make noticing the footsie pretty easy. Instead of commenting, he waits for Skitch to put down his coffee, then gives him a little nudge. "You can train with us! Derek's a great teacher, and even Stiles is learning to get pretty good at fighting when he has to. Don't worry, we don't bite or anything... well, I mean, not too hard. Usually. I mean--well, you know what I mean!" He's struggling not to laugh, but the grin just won't leave his face.
That nudge of boot against his foot causes Skitch to freeze for just the barest of instances. There's the tiniest widening of his eyes, but otherwise he gives no serious indication of what's happened. What does he know of werewolf senses? Slowly, cautiously, he gives a return bump as he turns to grin at Scott. "Oh, hells yeah," he says, bobbing his head. "I'm not afraid of a little training -- although I am a little afraid of Derek." He grins at his own (sort of) joke, then pinkens at the comment about biting and rubs the crook of his neck thoughtfully. "I just need to be good enough to not die," he says. "Which I guess is all that anyone needs, really."
"Oh, you gonna bite Skitchy and make him all sideburny?" Dean snorts, looking pleased with himself. He sips his coffee, which is much less fancy than anything anybody else ordered. He likes it basic black. Functional, a caffeine delivery system with style and good taste. Though he has to admit, this is really good coffee, better than the best he's had. "So...tell me again how you got a free ride in here? Did you say somethin' about an auction? What, were you like the fast-talking guy?"
"Hey," Scott protests, "I never bit him hard enough for--!" He reddens again, ducking his head, and says, "I mean, no! I wouldn't do that. It's dangerous, and--!" He stops, frowning, and peers at Dean for a long moment before finally just slumping a little and looking embarrassed. "Oh. You're just screwing with me." He grins a little and shakes his head. "Okay, you totally got me." Then Dean brings up The Auction, and Scott cringes a little. His ears go red again. "Oh. Uh. Well, see, I know the owner, Rey, and he--well, see, there's a members-only part of the club downstairs, and he wanted to get people to show up for the opening? So, he gave out some free passes to some people and stuff. You could win a free membership if you signed up to be in the auction, and he threw in the free food and stuff since he knows me." He remains rather vague about what "being in the auction" might mean.
Skitch doesn't trust himself to speak, so he just goes crimson at Dean's teasing, and he rubs his neck again. It doesn't get better when Scott leaps to the defense, and the blonde reaches out to pat at the other boy just as he realizes Dean's messing with him. The color doesn't fade immediately, though he seems intrigued by the story of how Scott came to be a member. "Members only?" he echoes. "So, have you been down there? What's he got down there that requires a separate level of distinction?"
Scott's squirming really tickles Dean, but his focus goes pinpoint when there's talk of this auction. "Dude. I need to sign up for the next auction if it gets you free food for life!" What could possibly go wrong? It's a steal!
Sam quickly speaks up. "Dean, you don't know what's down there or what this auction even is." He, at least, noticed Scott's reaction and the fact that nobody seems to be talking about what exactly the "members only" area entails. "Scott, I'm sorry to ask, but...well, like Skitch said...what is the member area?" Phrasing, Sammy. Phrasing.
Scott looks at the others, biting his lip, and then finally just literally drops his face into his hands and half-mumbles into them, but he stops when he realizes it. He moves his hands enough so he's still shielding himself from looking at anyone but can clearly be heard. He still doesn't speak up any more than he has to, and he says in the steadiest voice he can, "It's... a dungeon. Like, uh. A BDSM dungeon. We had to fill out these cards with what we were okay with doing, and then we went up on stage and...." He trails off, dropping his hands, and shrugs, biting his lip and crimson, but there's a touch of an almost shy little smile at the corners of his mouth in spite of it all.
"Oh." Skitch may die from all the blood rushing to his face tonight. But he has no follow-up questions for -that- bit of information, and he can't quite meet the eye of either adult on the other side of the table. And he's definitely not able to look at Scott. Because he has the most interesting coffee cup in the world. So interesting.
"The basement is a DUNGEON?!" Dean's eyes widen, and he seems to have no volume control when he's this surprised. To think that Scott McCall, who Dean previously considered pretty whitebread and your American boy next door, was part of...that kind of auction! He just starts to laugh, again louder than he really intended.
Sam brings his hand to his mouth. The "oh my" goes unspoken, but it's painted on his face.
Scott starts to slooowly slide down in the booth, but he can't quite get low enough to vanish much beneath the seat back of the booth. He looks at Dean with a kind of plaintive, pitiable look, can't quite meet Sam's gaze, and then finally, just as slowly, side-eyes and then gradually turns to fully look at Skitch. His expression is still plaintive, anxious. He's clearly worried that he may have somehow said too much or put Skitch off by admitting it. After a moment, he finally just says in his smallest voice, "Do I need to go die of shame, now?"
Skitch dies a little bit himself at Dean's hoot of surprise, and he manages to shrink to about half his size even as Scott is attempting to slide out of sight. He has a thoughtful, pensive look on his face as he chews at his thumb. Scott's small voice gets his full attention, though, and he shakes his head at the alpha. "No," he says, his mouth pulling into a line as he looks around the cafe with a new sort of appreciation. "It's just...that's like, twenty-seven steps from where I am, dude." He sounds worried about that, looking back down at his coffee. "It just caught me off-guard, is all." Which is lie enough to trip werewolf senses, even if it's a bit true. "I mean. A sex dungeon. Th-that's crazy."
The snort that comes from Dean is such a sharp one. "C'mon, sit up! Be proud! Not everybody can do that. That's pretty crazy. I mean...wow, these fancy digs, and a dungeon down there! So I guess it must be a real fancy dungeon with all the...toys, 'n stuff." Dean is not conversant with the lingo, but he's plain enough spoken that he gets the meaning across. "So your auction was..."
"I think it's a perfectly valid and respectable choice." Sam cuts in immediately, to just completely shut down any possibility of Dean finishing that thought. "This seems like a very nice establishment, and I'm absolutely sure the proprietor must be reputable and trustworthy for you to help him so generously."
Scott gives Skitch a mixed, complicated look, Dean a look of uncertain and even further mingled hope and concern, and finally Sam a look of pure gratitude. He sits up gingerly, reaching up to rub a hand over his mouth, and then slumps again, just a little. But he's mostly sitting up. "Rey's... a really cool guy," he says cautiously, not directly looking at Skitch. "And it's kind of a... long story? We met back in Beacon Hills, a... while ago." He exhales, looking at Dean hopefully again, as if hopeful because despite his more over the top, coarser reaction that he doesn't really seem to be judging. He looks only sidelong toward Skitch again, adding in a tentative and vulnerable tone, "When I met him, uh. I was still way more... inexperienced? Uh. Yeah."
Skitch, for his part, has retreated into his thoughts. He seems barely aware of the conversation as it unspools, glancing occasionally at Scott, then Dean, and every so often, Sam. One knee bounces gently as the blonde considers whatever it is so carefully. The comment about Scott's inexperience gets a visible flinch, and Skitch stiffens a bit. "I gotta call Ma," he announces woodenly, digging in his pocket as he slides out of the booth. "I'll be back," he promises, punching at the screen even as he heads out into the entryway, his expression cloudy.
"Oh, Rey! Yeah, he's cool." Dean only met him once or twice, but he left an impressive impression on the hunter. "Crazy cool. Like, effortlessly. And he's got that sweet ride, too. I gotta talk to him sometime about maybe doin' a collaboration on Baby." When Skitch gets up to call his mother, Dean upnods an acknowledgement but just continues on where he left off. "So, you two -- what's up with you 'n Skitchy? After he came over to watch a movie and fell asleep on me, like actually fell asleep *on me*, I was kinda wondering."
Sam just remains quiet, but he's listening.
Scott bolts upright to look on helplessly as Skitch goes, then slumps down all over again. He sighs heavily and looks toward Sam and Dean. "I thought we were kinda... gonna have something? I wanted to introduce him to Liam, and... I dunno." He ducks his head. "It's all Stiles' fault! I was totally monogamous before he gave me the idea to branch out." He doesn't really sound like he means it, though, and he doesn't bring up again the matter of his "innocence" before he met Rey. Mostly, he just feels like a jerk since it seems like he might've hurt Skitch, somehow.
Skitch doesn't return to the table right away, although he's still visible in the entry, speaking into his phone. His expression remains unchanged, and he chews at his thumb as he paces back and forth. Every now and then he stops and looks into the cafe with a thoughtful expression before moving on again.
"I'm sure you can talk to him about it. Talk through it." Sam offers a soft, thin smile, but it's heartfelt, reflected in his eyes. You can tell he means it. He's like that.
Dean, too, seems to mean it when he returns to the conversation. "Yeah! I'm sure Skitchy'll be fine. I mean, c'mon. If he ain't fine with that, he's gonna melt when he meets Lance." And if he's met Stiles, surely Lance can't be far behind.
Scott sighs, nodding, and... of course that's when they bring out the food, and Scott just looks even more dejected. "He probably won't want to eat the food now because he thinks I'm... I'm... a ho or something. Man, I'm gonna hafta tell Stiles I might've ruined things with his new friend. I didn't mean to freak him out!" He looks down at his food, sighs again, then picks up a french fry. "Well, at least the food's still good. I hope you guys like it, at least." He munches the fry, but he still looks pretty downbeat.
Skitch is no longer in the entry. Or the bathroom. And when the giant guy at the lounge is questioned, he merely shrugs and points at the door. Skitch, it seems, has left the building.
"Dude, come on." Dean puts his hands down on the table firmly. "You can not let this delicious gastronomic experience go to waste. He'll come around!" He reaches out to take one of the fries and casually pop it in his mouth, then brightens up and follows it with another one. He continues, then, but while he's chewing. "Have a good time! You still got us. I mean, Sammy might put out, I dunno."
Sam flattens his brow, and the bitchface reaches its next-level best as it's directed against Dean. Goddamn it. Sam can't take him anywhere.
The story continues in: 2020.02.11 - Settling Stuff