undergrounds | do you fly in the day, darling

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do you fly in the day, darling

[A June catch-all! Pick an option and say hello, or start something more specific in the comments. Hit me up on plurk if you want a specific starter!]

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A Just another Saturday night out, Nancy's lips painted blood red and staining the side of her low-ball glass. Her legs are crossed at the ankles, black pumps and fishnets on full display under her short leather skirt. It's a night out, another night working. People around here knew who she was, what she offered. It was easier in supernatural bars, Nancy knew, to find vampires looking for a feeding, or even just a john wanting some company.

She props an elbow up on the bar, and looks down the the way, eyes peeled for any familiar, or unfamiliar, face. She'll just try not to think about how great it would be to be watching Netflix right now instead of work.

B Do you believe in fate, baby, ask me, ask me, the music played in her earbuds as Nancy jogged in place at a cross-walk. Trainers on her feet and hair pulled up in a pony-tail, she was doing her usual exercise routine. Always good to be fast on your feet, she'd learned as a child, and running was a great way to keep that up. Even if she had ways to get away, her feet were still just as important.

Besides, there was something relaxing about running, she'd found. She could shove the world away and concentrate on the music and running and the city. She'd found her way down to the Thames, and was running on the paths near it, past youths with skateboards and graffiti'd walls, business men grabbing a bite to eat right outside the Globe. It was astounding the way the culture and history blended together so seamlessly. She'd never get over that.

The light turned green, and on she ran.

C Choose your own! Private starters in the comments.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

no kissing. at all. if it had been a date, they would have kissed at the ball. sorry.

Nancy knows he's approaching before the bell goes off, so she'd practically at the door when it does. throwing open the door, she smiles brightly at Stiles. "Stiles! glad you made it! you look- oh my gosh, you brought me a flower! I'll put it in water." giving him a hug, she accepts the flower and shows him into the small flat. a kitchen and living-room combination with a large couch, and coffee table, with her bedroom beyond that to the left, as well as a full bath.

moving to the sink, filling up a small glass, she spoke: "I hope you don't mind Italian- and there's beer in the fridge help yourself. let me just get this rose settled." and with that, she dropped it into the vase, placing it between them on the counter.

"so, welcome again to my house."

A myriad of expressions flash across his face as he reacts to her appearance. The smile directed at him has his stomach churning with that familiar butterfly sensation, only for the simplification of his gift to send him reeling. Flower!? It’s not just any overgrown, overpriced weed. This is a rose! The pinnacle of romance and feelings and all that mushy stuff! But his concern is alleviated by the brief hug, his mouth popping open in a little “oh” of pleasant surprise.

“Italian is great! And uh, yeah, lemme just…” Trailing off, he digs in the fridge to retrieve a beer. He doesn’t actually want to drink, but a bout of nerves has him desperate for something to cling to. If anything awful happens, he can blame it on the alcohol. “Okay, awesome. So do you, like, want any help with anything?”

Trust her, Stiles, she knows it's a rose. But as this is a hang-out and not a date, acknowledging that it was a rose, the pinnacle of romance and feelings and all that mushy stuff, would have been weird.

"Lovely- can you grab me one?" She smiles, leaning back against the counter, and finishing off her glass of wine. "Not yet- I've got lasagna in the oven, and I'll put some bread in later for garlic bread, and the salad comes last, so we've got time." She looks over at her pipe.

"Want to smoke?" She gestures.

Passing her the first beer he'd grabbed, he ducks back to the fridge to get a second for himself. This he opens quickly, taking a sip for lack of anything else to do. Mentally, he runs a checklist. He brought a gift, check. He offered to help, check. He accepted a drink, check. Now what? Small talk?

Nancy interrupts his train of thought with her gesturing hand. Blinking, he stares at it in dumb confusion for a moment and then balks.

"Oh. Oh, nah. I don't really, uh, I don't smoke. Not that there's anything wrong with it. Well, besides everything that is medically proven to be wrong with it. It's just not something I ever got into." You're rambling, Stiles. "But I don't mind if you do!"

She popped the top off of her beer effortlessly. "Thanks, love," she said before taking a sip.

His words had her giggling, and she held a hand out to try to calm him. "It's alright- I won't if you don't. Promise. It's magic, anyway." She shrugged it all off and took a sip of her beer to show that all was forgotten.

"Really."

Well, now he's more than a little curious. Beer forgotten, he trails over to the pipe and squints at it. He wants to pick it up, but thinks that might be rude. So he refrains...for the time.

"Magic? It's magic weed? Seriously? Magic weed?"

"Canway," she corrects him. "More potent than weed, at any rate. More difficult to make, too." But even better to smoke. She shrugs the idea away.

"Its yours if you want it. No pressure."

"...Maybe later."

Sniffing the air around the pipe (not unlike the werewolf he definitely is not), he takes a grudging step away and returns his attention to Nancy. As if only just remembering its presence, he takes another sip from the beer.

"Did you make it yourself? Do you have some kind of...canway lab set up in your bathroom?"

"No," she says with a shake of her head. "Bathroom's clear. Fagin's the one that deals it." She just helped sell it.

Fagin. That name again. Stiles almost starts to pry about her foster father, then recalls what she'd said in regards to her personal life. Awkward, he rubs the nape of his neck and drops it.

"So..."

He has no idea what the hell to say.

Nancy, for her part, shakes her head and laughs, breaking the silence between the two of them before it got too bad.

"So. I was hoping, maybe, I could hear your side of what happened." With Derek, she meant.

Sorry, Nancy. Trying to talk about feelings with Stiles is like trying to pull teeth. He wheels away both physically and mentally, aimlessly wandering through the apartment as if seeing it for the first time.

"Aw, and here I thought you invited me over because you like me."

"Oh, come on!" She sighed exasperatedly, coming around the corner towards him. "Of course I like you, I adore you." To prove it, she slung her arm around his shoulder. "That wasn't why I invited you over. I was just hoping- but, it's all right. I promise." Again, she hated to promise, but this, she really could.

The arm slinging is kind of weird, because it's something he'd do (and does, frequently) with Scott. Except their best bros. Shit, is he being friendzoned? He'll have to get to the bottom of this later, because after Lydia, he can't stand the idea of spending summer hoping for another girl to return his feelings.

"There's not really anything to say," he replies flippantly, clinking his beer bottle against hers. "He roughed me up a bit a few weeks ago and refused to explain much of anything. I'm not exactly his biggest fan."

Silly Stiles. The friendzone doesn't exist.

"Fair enough," she says. "You're completely within your right to dislike him, and I don't blame you." Seriously. She wouldn't be a fan of him either if he'd done that to her. She'd get Derek's side, and that would be that. Everyone could be friends. Because she wanted Stiles to be able to hang out with her and Kenzi and if this thing with Derek became a bigger thing, she wanted to know him, too.

She was probably getting ahead of herself.

"I'm sorry that happened. Are you alright?" And she genuinely meant it, not patronizing or anything.

The friendzone definitely does not exist, except in the minds of idiot boys such as Stiles.

"Yeah. I'm fine." But it's a casual dismissal, a reassurance he would have given even if he wasn't fine. "It just pissed me off. Like, a lot. Sorry for making you worry, Nance."

"you CAN say if it's not fine. I can take it, and I can do what I can to help." she, beer in hand, lead him over towards the couch. Juliet looked at them vaguely interested, before returning to her nap.

"I promise." again, with the promising.

"now sit, and drink. it's required." she pats the seat next to her. "we can watch Netflix too if you want."

Obediently, he sits down on the couch (with a nod of acknowledgment in the direction of Juliet) and then takes a long swallow from the beer. As nice as her support is, it is very unlikely he would even tell Scott how much Derek has gotten to him. Deflection is much, much more comfortable.

"How about 'Sabrina the Teenage Witch?'" he suggests with an impish grin.

Nancy looks at him wryly. "I prefer The Craft." she grinned devilishly, picking up her Xbox controller. she didn't really game, but some of the boys did. and Kenzi.

Well, you can't bring out the XBOX controller and not expect Stiles to comment. Straightening, he points at it and then at Nancy, as if unable to comprehend the fact that she is holding it.

"Do you...do you play video games?"

"not really," she confesses. "I've got a few games in the cupboard- the boys and Kenzi like to play. I'm miserable, if you wanna beat me up." she's down for it.

"Uhh, maybe co-op instead then," he offers, somewhat freaked out by the phrase of beating her up. "I can help you get better, so you can kick their asses. It'll be a really cool surprise."

It wasn't good phrasing. The 'up' just came out, and it didn't seem too odd to Nancy until further reflection.

"Sounds like a plan. Think you're up for the challenge?" She tossed him the second controller. She's Player One.

"The way you made it sound, it won't be much of a challenge at all."

And the fact is, Stiles is good at gaming. Like, unfairly so. He used to have the up on Scott all the time...until certain senses where enhanced in the werewolf teen. Damn cheater.

Stiles moves to the cupboard, pulling out the games.

"What do you want to play?"

"Of training me, I mean. So yes, it will be a tremendous one." She popped up to her knees on the couch, watching Stiles pull them out. Juliet decides now is a good time to wake up again and hops off towards the basket that contained the games. She liked noise.

"Anything- I had fun playing Borderlands with them once. After I figured out vaguely what was going on."

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