At two in the morning, the diner smelled like burnt grease, stale coffee, and poor decisions. The neon OPEN sign in the front window buzzed loudly enough to trigger migraines, and every surface carried the faint sticky sheen that no amount of industrial cleaner could truly remove. Liam Dunbar had been on shift since eleven pm and his manager had yelled at him twice, someone had thrown up in booth six an hour ago, and he still had three more hours before he could legally escape this hellscape.
Then the bell over the diner door jingled.
Liam looked up automatically and immediately considered faking his own death.
The Hale pack walked in like a natural disaster wearing leather jackets.
“Oh, absolutely not,” Liam muttered under his breath.
He knew that swagger. He knew those expressions. Worse, he knew every single one of them personally. Which meant he also knew exactly what kind of bullshit was about to happen.
Stiles spotted him first and grinned with the kind of delighted malice usually reserved for cartoon villains. “Oh my God,” he announced loudly. “It’s baby wolf.”
Derek looked up from where he was shrugging off his jacket. His expression went flat with immediate understanding.
“Yes,” Erica said instantly, already sliding into a booth. “Come her baby wolf.” Erica purred as she beckoned him over.
Boyd’s mouth twitched. Isaac looked one bad day away from becoming a cryptid permanently, and Peter smiled the way sharks probably smiled before eating people.
Liam contemplated walking directly into traffic.
Unfortunately, his manager noticed the group at the same time. “Table twelve!” she yelled from behind the counter.
“I know!” Liam snapped back.
“Use your customer service voice!”
“I don’t have one anymore, Brenda!”
The pack collapsed into the booth like they owned the place. Stiles kept grinning at him the entire walk over, visibly vibrating with anticipation. Liam recognized the look immediately. Stiles thought he was funny.
That was always dangerous.
Liam slapped menus onto the table harder than strictly necessary. “What can I get you all to drink?”
Derek leaned back in the booth with all the exhausted dignity of a man who had not wanted to come here in the first place. “I’ll have a cup of coffee grounds. Just the grounds. Leave the coffee.”
“You want…” Liam pinched the bridge of his nose. “You want wet dirt.”
“Coffee grounds,” Derek corrected.
“Right. Wet bean dirt. Great start.”
Erica crossed one leg over the other. “I’ll have a glass of room temperature vinegar.”
“You don’t sound surprised.”
“Because I know you,” Liam replied immediately. “I’ve seen you eat hot Cheetos dipped vinaigrette salad dressing.”
Boyd looked genuinely thoughtful when Liam turned to him. “Can I get the experience of tasting a root beer float for the first time?”
“The experience,” he repeated slowly.
“You understand I work in a diner and not a metaphysical plane of existence, right?”
Boyd shrugged peacefully. “Worth asking.”
Stiles nearly climbed over the table in excitement before Liam could continue. “I’ll have a coffee and bacon, and I’ll mix them myself if you don’t want to.”
Behind him, somewhere in the kitchen, the fryer beeped like a distant cry for help.
“What the fuck does that even mean?”
“You know,” Stiles explained, waving his hands enthusiastically, “like a savory bacon and coffee, no grounds please.”
“That sentence made me physically ill.”
Isaac raised his hand politely. “I’ll have a glass of pancake syrup.”
Liam turned toward him with the exhausted fury of a man standing on the edge of a psychological break. “You want a pint glass of grenadine?”
Isaac looked offended. “Pancake syrup. No pancakes.”
Erica snorted loudly. Derek looked like he wanted death. Peter looked delighted.
Liam slowly looked toward the ceiling as if asking God for patience.
“And you, sir?” Liam asked Peter through gritted teeth.
Peter closed the menu carefully. “Just a calzone.”
Relief hit Liam so hard his knees almost buckled.
“Extra mustard on the side, please.” Peter added.
“You can have the whole fucking bottle.”
Stiles pointed accusingly. “Favoritism.”
“You asked me to serve you bacon sludge,” Liam shot back. “You lost your human rights.”
The table erupted into overlapping laughter while Liam walked away with their order pad clutched in his hand like evidence in a murder trial.
By the time he reached the kitchen window, he was already plotting revenge.
“You look homicidal,” the cook observed.
“They’re doing it on purpose.”
The cook glanced toward table twelve where Stiles was currently trying to convince Isaac that syrup technically counted as hydration.
They wanted to prank him?
Liam looked down at the order ticket again.
The experience of tasting a root beer float for the first time.
And one normal calzone with a side of mustard, ordered by the only functioning adult at the table.
Slowly, a terrible idea formed in Liam’s head.
A smile spread across his face.
The cook took a cautious step back. “Oh no.”
Ten minutes later, Liam returned carrying a tray with the confidence of a man about to commit several crimes.
He set Derek’s order down first.
A large coffee mug filled to the brim with damp espresso grounds.
Derek stared into the cup.
“You said coffee grounds.”
Around the table, everyone started laughing immediately.
Next came Erica’s vinegar: poured into a beer glass Liam had intentionally heated in the microwave.
She touched it and recoiled. “Why is it hot enough to burn me?”
“You requested room temperature. The kitchen’s hot.”
Boyd received a and empty glass that once contained a root beer float. Boyd stared at it in stunned silence. Then dramatically took a deep breath over the rim of the empty glass, savoring the essence of the root beer float.
Then Liam placed Stiles’s order down.
A mug of black coffee with bits of bacon floating around in it.
Stiles went completely still.
“I mixed it for you.” Liam added with a smile.
Peter burst out laughing so hard he had to lean against the table.
Liam placed the largest glass they had full of sugar free pancake syrup in front of Isaac. Then he plopped the tiniest straw they had next to the glass.
Isaac looked genuinely emotional. “You respected my vision.”
“I regret every decision that led me here.” Derek muttered looking at his coffee cup.
Finally, Liam placed Peter’s calzone down with care. Golden brown. Perfectly plated. And drizzled with mustard. Then he placed a soup bowl full of mustard on the side.
Peter looked touched. “You’re a professional.”
“I cling to standards where I can.”
The entire table dissolved into chaos almost immediately afterward.
Erica screamed when she accidentally touched the hot glass of vinegar again.
Isaac drank enough syrup to concern modern medicine then he snarled when he realized it was sugar free.
Boyd quietly breathed in his root beer float glass like he was savoring the childhood memories.
And Derek sat there holding a mug full of wet coffee grounds, looking like a man reconsidering every agreeing to do this prank with his pack.
Liam watched all of it with exhausted satisfaction knowing that he could out prank all of them.