triskehale | (no subject)

Derek isn't sure what led to him standing in front of David and Patrick's store at closing time. He had been at Semele's and after about his third glass of wolfsbane ale, Kira had cut him off. This isn't like you, she had said, but that was kind of the point.

For just a little while, he wanted to not be himself.

After being gently nudged out of his own bar by a turquoise-haired girl half his size, Derek had just sort of wandered. He isn't drunk, not really, but there is a pleasant sort of buzz that makes his irises crackle red as the poison works its way through his system. All he knows is that he doesn't want to be alone with his thoughts, and the people he can turn to are dwindling either because it's gotten all complicated or they keep fucking disappearing.

So, Rose Apothecary it is. David and Patrick are kind to him. They know he's a wolf but they don't know about how he got his whole family killed because he couldn't keep his dick in his pants. They don't know about how he found half of his sister's body because he wasn't there to protect her, or how much of a failure he is as an alpha. They don't know how broken he is, or how much he's controlled by some rock in the sky a million miles away.

They're normal, David and Patrick. Not in a boring way but in a way that he has craved for most of his life. They're in love. They're content. He wants to bury his face in their necks and breathe it all in and just bask in it for a little while, this thing he'll never have.

He wants to be with his friends.

He's just stepping up to the door as David is moving to lock it on the other side, and Derek gives him a little wave before shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket, unsure of what to say. He doesn't want to be alone, but he doesn't want to say that out loud.

"Hey," he says through the glass. "You guys busy?"

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Patrick seems pretty confident in his declaration that Derek must wear the sexy strappy chest thing, and he's about to laugh it off, but he hears the sound of a car door slamming somewhere down the street. He lifts his chin a little and narrows in on the sound, scenting cooked meat and sweet barbecue sauce as someone hurriedly climbs the stairs.

David and Patrick can hear none of this, of course, so Derek makes a big show of pulling himself to his feet with a hapless shrug.

"Well, if it is my turn," Derek sighs out, reaching for the hem of his shirt just as the delivery man approaches their door. Just as he lifts the fabric, a loud knock sounds the apartment, and Derek snaps his fingers and clicks his tongue.

"Aw, shucks. Missed my chance," he says, eyes bright with amusement as he turns on his heel. "I'll get the door."

"He's a tease," David says to Patrick. "No one likes a tease."

Except that's clearly not true, because David is pretty sure the entire world loves a tease, that's why icky strip clubs are so damn popular. Besides, they clearly like Derek, tease or not.

What David does like, more than almost anything, is food. As Derek heads for the door, David jumps up from the couch -- as close to jumping as David Rose ever gets, anyway -- and heads for the kitchen to get out plates and utensils.

"I don't know, you're kind of a tease," Patrick replies, but mainly because there are times when he needs to not buy, but maybe gently bribe David for his affections -- usually with food.

And, speaking of it, Derek gets saved by the bell, because of course he does.

"I guess no more dress up and only BBQ?" he jokes.

"Maybe later, if you're good," Derek volleys back as he answers the door. The delivery person is a small woman who seems to be vaguely struggling under the weight off all their food, so Derek takes the bags and sets them down before pulling a ten from his wallet to tip her. She thanks him and turns to go with a wave, and Derek gathers the food to bring it over to the table.

"I have to admit this smells really good, even if they are my competition," Derek says as he starts to unpack the containers. He isn't really worried about it, though. Restaurants always have competition, and The Bite does good business. He certainly isn't worried.

"Shit," he says, looking down at the massive amounts of food. "We didn't get dessert."

"Are you serious?" David asks in a way that might suggest he doesn't know how Derek could want dessert after all the food they've ordered. But then he starts peeking through bags, opening them one by one until he can produce the crappy deep freeze chocolate cake the restaurant provides with orders of this size.

"You scared me, I thought they forgot it," he says as he sets it down on the counter.

Patrick keeps hiding a smile behind his mouth, figuring that if there wasn't dessert, then he would have been making a trip down to the corner store, but luckily, they don't have to worry about that.

"You shouldn't doubt David, he'd never forget dessert," Patrick says, and there's a fondness in his voice that shows that he's only teasing and not truly making fun of him.

He turns a fully innocent face on Derek. "Unless that's your way of telling us we get the dessert because you don't want any."

"I am not at all worried about the competition if that's what they call dessert," he says with a hint of smugness, because he isn't proud of many things, but he's proud of that restaurant. He had very little to do with the dessert bar anyway, and he gets a slight pang in his chest when he thinks of Bitty.

"But I'll probably have a slice," he admits as he slides into a chair and opens one of the containers of ribs so he can load up his plate.

"You shouldn't be, you're fine," David says, reaching out to put his fingertips against Derek's chest briefly, as if to reassure him, but just as likely to get a good feel of his muscles. "But cake is cake. And I want cake."

He also wants ribs. And some of the cornbread. And the beans. Even the coleslaw smells good, which isn't usually David's thing, because it has a lot of cabbage in it, but it also has a lot of mayonnaise, so the cabbage can be forgiven.

Patrick hides his smile as he watches the way David pats Derek's chest almost like he's his dog self and not a human, but hey, he gets it. He's a very handsome man and Patrick would do the same.

"We don't deny David cake," he whispers to Derek, like it's a secret (it's not, it's really not).

Derek glances down at David's hand where it rests briefly against his chest and he can't help but to smile to himself. Sometimes he doesn't mind the attention that his body gets him.

"You've had The Bite, right?" He asks as he reaches over to grab two pieces of cornbread. "It's the best dessert in the city, I think. And I'm not even tooting my own horn, because I have very little to do with it."

The woman who replaced Bitty, a very capable woman who even has a bit of his enthusiastic charm, runs the dessert bar. All Derek does is order the inventory that she asks for, and approve whatever staff changes she wants to make. "I had a partner when I opened the restaurant. I did the meat, and he did the dessert. He was an absolute genius."

He doesn't think that he has to explain what happened to Bitty. Whenever someone talks about a person in the past tense in this city, the reason is usually pretty obvious.