Chapter 9: You're Not Gay.
Hope, Stiles, and Scott headed toward the back door of the club, only to find it locked.
"Aw, come on! Alright, maybe there's a window we could climb through or some kind of…" Stiles trailed off as Hope nonchalantly muttered a spell, causing the door to burst open with a faint spark.
Meanwhile, Scott stood frozen, holding the door handle he'd yank off effortlessly with his werewolf strength.
"Oops!" Hope said, genuinely guilty. "That was… overkill. My bad."
Stiles shot her an awed look. "A door we could rip open with supernatural strength…. How did I not think of that?"
Scott snapped out of his confusion and marched through the doorway without a word, muttering something about "getting this over with."
Inside, the club was alive with pounding music, strobe lights, and glittering decor. Hope's eyes lit up as she took in the scene. "Whoa, okay, this is epic. We should crash places like this more often." It was her first time in a club and she was ready to hit the floor expect she might get kicked out soon.
Hope squinted at the crowd. "Uh, quick observation—no women. None. Like, at all. Is this…?"
Scott interrupted, stating the obvious as he stared at the sea of dancing men. "Dude, everyone in here is a dude! I think we're in a gay club."
Stiles rolled his eyes, dripping with sarcasm. "Wow, Scott, nothing escapes those razor-sharp werewolf senses, huh? Next, you'll tell me the sky's blue."
Hope clapped her hands together, grinning. "Oh my god, this is my first time in a gay club! I love it! And look at those drag queens—absolute icons."
Before anyone could respond, a small group of drag queens sidled up to Stiles, touching his arms and ruffling his hair with enthusiasm.
Stiles flinched, wide-eyed, and stammered, "Uh… h-hi, excuse me, um, personal space…"
Hope burst into laughter, nearly doubling over.
Stiles awkwardly swatted their hands away as politely as he could and finally joined Hope and Scott at the bar.
"Two beers and one coke," Scott said, trying to reassert some normalcy.
"Wrong. One beer, two cokes," Hope corrected immediately.
Scott turned to her, exasperated. "The coke is for you, Hope. We're the big guys here."
Hope raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Oh, really? Say that again, and I'll arm-wrestle you into next week. Let's see who the real big guy is."
Scott puffed out his chest slightly, grinning. "I'm a werewolf. You sure you want to test me?"
Hope crossed her arms, smirking. "Sweetheart, I've been lifting werewolves since before you could grow sideburns. You're on."
Stiles raised his hand. "Can we hold off on the supernatural smackdown until after we find Jackson? I don't want to be caught in the crossfire."
The bartender, unimpressed, asked for their IDs. All three slammed them onto the counter.
"Three cokes," the bartender said with a smug grin. Bartender wins the argument.
Stiles tried to save face. "Uh… how about a rum and coke? No? Fine. Coke's good. I'm driving anyway," he muttered, bobbing his head awkwardly to the music.
As another blonde bartender handed over their drinks, the bartender nodded toward Scott. "That one's paid for," he said with a smile, gesturing to someone across the room.
Scott turned to see a handsome guy raising his glass toward him.
Scott smirked at Stiles "Shut up!" Stiles said sipping his drink.
"What I didn't say anything?" Scott defended with a teasing look.
Hope, taking a sip of her drink, added cheerfully, "Hence proved the gay theory. Congrats Stiles Gay guys find both of you attractive"
"What?" Stiles exclaimed, nearly choking on his coke.
Hope gestured toward a second man across the bar, who winked at Stiles.
Scott laughed. "Dude, you're a hit tonight. Gay club or not, you're killing it."
Stiles buried his face in his hands. "This is the most awkward night of my life."
"Aw, don't be shy, Stiles," Hope teased, patting his shoulder. "You're a hot commodity. Soak it in."
"Let's just find Jackson before I die of secondhand embarrassment," Stiles groaned, already retreating from the bar.
Hope grinned, taking another sip. "Best night ever."
"Hey! I found Danny!" Stiles interrupted, snapping Hope out of her thoughts. She immediately straightened her back, ready to get back to work. But before that…
She discreetly snatched a small bottle of alcohol from the counter and slipped it into her pocket. Nobody will know. She patted her jeans pocket reassuringly.
Hehehe, she giggled in her head, eyeing another bottle. One more wouldn't hurt. Just as she reached for it, she looked up—only to make direct eye contact with the bartender.
Hope froze. The bartender narrowed his eyes.
She blinked innocently, slowly putting the bottle back like she hadn't just been caught red-handed. Then she casually turned away, patting her pocket again. One bottle is enough. Don't be greedy.
Sucks to be a warewitch, she sighed in her head, momentarily wishing she were a vampire and had the power of compulsion.
Snapping her focus back to Scott and Stiles, she saw Scott watching the Kanima circling Danny and his shirtless dance partner. Its long claws stretched out, gleaming under the flashing club lights. Not that anyone noticed—everyone was too wasted to care.
"Get Danny," Scott instructed, already moving toward the Kanima.
Stiles nodded and headed toward Danny, while Hope stepped forward to help Scott—only to suddenly be lifted off the ground.
"What the—HEY!" Hope flailed as two burly security guards grabbed her, each holding her by an arm. Before she could process what was happening, they were carrying her toward the exit like a piece of furniture.
"Where do you think you're taking me?!" she demanded, wriggling but still resisting the urge to use her supernatural strength.
"This is a gay club," one of the bouncers said.
Hope blinked. "So what? I love gay people! Gay people love me! I have a very attractive gay best friend! This is discrimination—no, this is RACISM!"
The bouncers exchanged a look but remained unfazed.
Hope scowled. "Do you know who I am? I'm Hope Mikaelson. If my father were alive, he'd turn you inside out for this!"
Before she could finish her dramatic speech, they unceremoniously dumped her outside and shut the door in her face.
Hope stood there for a second, stunned. Then she dusted off her dress with a huff.
"How rude."
She glanced around at the empty street, crossed her arms, and sulked. "I should've been the one throwing them out."
It only took ten minutes for chaos to break out. Hope could hear the shouting from inside the club as she sulked in Stiles' Jeep, waiting for them to show up. When they finally did, they brought along a very naked Jackson.
"Where were you?" Stiles asked, looking both worried and out of breath.
"They politely escorted me out because it's a gay club," Hope grumbled, arms crossed. Then, with a disgusted frown, she motioned toward Jackson. "And for the love of all things holy, can someone cover his testicles? This is traumatizing."
She looked away, only to glance back involuntarily.
"Ugh!" She groaned, squeezing her eyes shut. "Why did I look again?"
Stiles, who was clearly just as flustered, grabbed an old hoodie from the backseat and draped it over Jackson. "Happy now?"
Hope sighed, still avoiding eye contact with the human-sized nightmare in her lap. "Not really, but I'll take what I can get."
Scott climbed into the front seat, finishing his hushed conversation with a very paralyzed Danny. "I couldn't get anything out of Danny," he admitted.
"Great. Can we please get the hell out of here before my dad's deputies show up and I end up on another crime scene report?" Stiles asked.
As if on cue, sirens blared behind them.
Hope barely held back a laugh. "Wow, you really jinxed yourself there, buddy."
"Oh my God! Oh my God!" Stiles started panicking. "Could this get any worse?"
Right at that moment, Jackson stirred, groaning as he started waking up.
Stiles pointed dramatically at him. "THAT WAS RHETORICAL!"
Hope snorted, sipping the alcohol she stole as she watched the mess unfold like prime-time television. "This is why I don't intervene until someone is actually dying. It's way more fun this way."
Scott shot her an unimpressed look. "Get rid of them," he ordered, referring to the approaching officers.
Stiles gawked at him. "Get rid of them?! Scott, we are at a crime scene, and my dad is the sheriff. What do you want me to do? Flash my non-existent FBI badge?"
"Just do something!" Scott insisted.
"Fine!" Stiles grumbled as he climbed out of the Jeep, stomping toward his father.
Meanwhile, Jackson let out another groggy groan.
Hope hummed thoughtfully before leaning down and whispering, "Shh… go back to sleep." With a flick of her fingers, a subtle spell sent him right back into dreamland.
Scott blinked. "You could have done that before."
Hope grinned, the picture of innocence. "I could have. But I didn't want to."
Scott exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. He knew by now there was no winning against her.
Instead, they both turned their attention to Stiles, who was currently making a spectacle of himself.
Noah narrowed his eyes at his son. "What are you doing here?"
Stiles did the worst job ever at acting casual. "What do you mean, what am I doing here? It's a club! We were clubbing! You know, at the club!"
Noah stared at him. Then at the building behind him. Then back at his son.
"Not exactly your type of club," he remarked suspiciously.
"Uh… well, Dad, there's a conversation that we—"
"You're not gay." Noah squinted at him.
Stiles gasped dramatically. "I COULD BE!"
Noah gave him a long, unimpressed look. "Not dressed like that."
Hope bit her lip to hold back her laugh. Stiles was so offended.
He shakes his head. Noah walks to the Jeep but Stiles blocks his way.
"This is the second crime scene that you just happened to have shown up on, at this point I've been fed so many lies. I'm not even sure I know the kid standing in front of me now. What the hell is going on?" He reprimands him. Hope sighs feeling bad for him.
Before he could argue, Noah's gaze drifted past him to the Jeep. Scott immediately gave a big, overly friendly wave, while Hope offered a polite smile.
"Dad, I… just-"
"Stiles," Noah said sternly. "The truth."
Hope sighed from inside the Jeep. She'd seen people die because of their ignorance, but sometimes she thought ignorance was the safer option. People fear what they can't understand, and once you know the truth, there's no going back.
"The truth?" Stiles repeated, nodding. "Right. Yeah. Of course. The truth is that we were here with Danny! Yeah! Because he just broke up with his boyfriend, and, you know, we were just being good friends and trying to cheer him up!"
Noah's eyes softened. "That's… actually really good of you guys. You're good friends."
Stiles visibly exhaled, patting his dad on the shoulder. Crisis averted.
Back in the Jeep, Scott pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay. Where do we stash Jackson?"
"What about your house?" Stiles suggested.
"Not with my mom there," Scott shot back.
"We need somewhere we can hold him long enough to convince him that he's dangerous," Scott muttered.
"I say we just kill him," Stiles declared.
"I concur," Hope added cheerfully.
"We are not killing him!" Scott glared at them.
Hope gave him an innocent shrug. "I was kidding… or was I?"
Scott groaned in frustration. "God, I hate you both."
"Okay, okay!" Stiles raised his hands in surrender. "What about Derek's hideout?" Hope suggested.
Scott shook his head immediately. "Derek will kill him."
"Exactly," Hope grinned.
Scott groaned even louder.
Hope didn't actually have anything against Jackson. She found his diva attitude amusing. But the way he treated Lydia? Unforgivable. Sure, Lydia technically cheated first, but Hope had already decided she was Team Lydia no matter what.
"I've got an idea," Stiles announced.
Hope didn't even have to hear it to know it was a terrible one.
Scott sighed. "Does it involve breaking the law?"
"Why," Stiles scoffed, "do you even ask?"
"I was trying to be optimistic."
"Don't bother."
"One day, you're going to get your father suspended. Or worse—get yourself thrown in jail," Hope chimed in.
"Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence," Stiles said flatly.
"You're welcome," Hope replied sweetly.
Scott groaned. "Can we please just get this over with?"
"Not with that attitude," Stiles muttered, Hope smirked. Oh, this was going to be fun.