Dean is doing his best to tamp down a uncharacteristic rush of glee. Of all the stupid shit he's been through in this town - Croats and demon possession and endless, ash colored nights - this time he gets to be a fucking rumrummer? In a fedora?

Performing a quick inventory of the rest of what's on him - a handgun, a knife, no phone, Jesus - Dean grabs Stiles by his ridiculous collar and 'helps' him through the door. "You never snuck into a bar before?" he mutters. "It's all about the attitude. Act like you belong, nobody'll question it."