I've been having trouble writing lately, so DJ suggested I take a break from 'put down your sword and crown' and just write little ficlets instead. As practice.

Still not sure if this is a twoshot or a threeshot or a whathaveyoushot or not, but I hope you like it anyway :3

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how to open a bar

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a guide by matt donovan and jeremy gilbert

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Matt and Jeremy want to open a pop up bar.

It's simple enough: a few crates of beer, whatever snack they can wrangle into their arms from the K Mart, maybe even some mini-pizzas if they manage to find a spot with a power outlet (and if they can unhook the microwave oven from the wall and run off with it for a few hours every few nights without Elena noticing).

"What is a pop up bar?" Kol asks, eyebrows fused together. Matt promptly crumples the minute flyer into his fist and pretends to be checking out a bird's nest out the window, but Jeremy just sighs and makes sure Alaric's head is turned away before whispering furtively, "It's like, this underground bar thing."

"An underground bar thing?" Kol repeats in his normal voice, paying no mind to the 'SILENCE IS GOLDEN' sign propped up on the far wall of study hall. Out of the corner of his eye, Jeremy can see a Jim Hardwell and Anna McKenna stop discussing calculus and turn their heads towards him; Bryan Looper has all but gave up on pretending to read Animal Farm (the book was upside down, anyway) and was actually leaning his upper torso towards them.

Jeremy glares at all of them and they turn away.

"Stefan told me all about it." At the mention of his less-than-favourite Ripper, Kol scoffs in distaste, but Jeremy just continues: "We just pop up - like, literally - some place and park there for a few hours, maybe even a few nights, and people come and drink and get hammered and have a great time. And then we move on." Jeremy ducks his head, partly to stop the other students from reading his lips, and partly to avoid the betrayed look Matt is giving him.

Kol nods. "But why can't we just drink at the sorry excuse you have of a bar?"

"We can't go to the Grill. I work there." Matt scoffs, shaking his head ever so slightly: Can you believe this guy? he seems to say. "Also, we're underage, dumbass."

Kol still looks lost. Maybe age isn't much of a factor to him, Jeremy surmises.

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"I've considered this idea of yours," Kol announces as he drops his tray of food (a sandwich, an apple, and a bottle of blackcurrant juice which suspiciously does not look like blackcurrant juice) right in the middle of Jeremy and Matt's discussion of Devil May Cry 3.

"I want in." Kol smiles like he's doing them a favour.

"But we didn't even as—" Jeremy kicks Matt's foot under the table and Matt swallows his groan.

Perhaps it's the whole Denver thing, or maybe it's Kol producing a bag of chips and subconsciously offering them some, that Jeremy kind of (kind of, mind you) doesn't want to say no.

"We'll let you know," is what he says instead.

"We'll text you," Matt offers, with a smile that's too big to be genuine.

Kol, who's fiddling with his brand-new iPhone, looks up and nods. It seems to be enough for him.

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"Kol's not invited," Matt announces.

Jeremy nods absently and slides his books into his locker. Matt shuts it for him and says insistently, "I mean it. He's a prick. He can't come."

He doesn't mean to be pushy or anything, but he taps his hand – his third finger is still a little crooked from the time Kol had given him the handshake of doom – against the cool metal of Jeremy's locker door as a reminder.

Jeremy nods again, but this time resignedly. "Fine. No Kol."

A dark figure moves in the shadows of the hallway, and there's a gust of wind as Matt pushes the double doors of Mystic Falls High School open. Matt stuffs his hands in the deep pockets of his coat and Jeremy ducks his head to avoid the blinding white glare of the sun.

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They don't text Kol.

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It's cold. Particularly cold for a Fall night.

Matt and Jeremy sit huddled around their makeshift bonfire and clink their beer bottles together, sometimes smirking and sometimes exchanging a crude joke or two. There are licks of orange flames reflected in Jeremy's eyes as he stares into the bonfire: lost.

Matt props his elbow on his knee as he checks his wristwatch yet again. "Dude, it's like ten already."

Jeremy frowns. "Didn't we say nine-thirty?"

"Uh." There's the sound of paper un-crumpling as Matt checked on the fliers they'd left around school surreptitiously; slipped between the vents of certain lockers, by the side of urinals and on football helmets. "Yeah. Nine-thirty."

Jeremy tchhts between his teeth. Assholes. Clearly these high school students, who have not even begun to see and experience as much as he and Matt have, did not understand this refined idea of a popup bar.

Matt crunches down on a Dorito and tries not to stare forlornly at the two crates of beer they'd artfully (read: placed at each end of the log and strewn with dried leaves by Jeremy, who'd stepped back to regard his work with a pleased look on his face) arranged around them.

"Well," Jeremy offers, "it is the Halloween Dance tonight."

Matt blinks. Duh. "Are we the only ones who decided not to go?"

Jeremy shrugs. Pretty much. "They had to save face, man. I mean, they had to go to the dance." He adds, as an afterthought: "Or face the wrath of Caroline Forbes."

(There just had to be a disaster on a night of a dance, didn't there?)

"They'll be here tomorrow," Matt says, brighter than he'd been two minutes ago.

Jeremy lifts his fourth beer bottle. "Tomorrow."

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Tomorrow, same time. Same place.

Still the same crowd of two.

This time, Jeremy doesn't bother concealing his frustration as he frowns into the bonfire they'd hastily set up (they didn't have the time they had the night before, because Jeremy had gone to the trouble of distracting Elena by hiding her teddy bear, and Matt had all but thrown the microwave oven over his shoulder and ran straight out of the house with it. And then there was the problem of hooking it up to Matt's old truck's generator).

Matt's lying down on his log, staring up at the stars. "I'm pretty sure I dropped three invites into Caroline's locker."

"Maybe the glare of all her cheer ribbons stopped her from seeing them," Jeremy mutters.

"I made mini pizzas."

"Well, your mini pizzas are getting cold." Jeremy sighs. "Listen, man…"

Matt sits up so fast, Jeremy has to wrack his mind to remember if he'd ever been vamp-bit. (It was getting harder to keep up with the supernatural going ons these days.) "No."

"It's just us tw—"

"Not Kol," Matt says, and defiantly bites down into one of the ten mini pizzas he'd so graciously prepared. He enjoys the first two bites, swallows down the third and fourth hastily, and pops the last bite in his mouth. "Mmm. Delicious," he says thickly.

Jeremy leans back against his upended tree trunk and sighs out a reply, which Matt doesn't really catch. What he does hear is the word 'pathetic'. He's not sure what Jer's referring to: the fact that nobody's coming to their super secret popup bar (so secret that nobody got the memo, apparently), or the sauce stains around his mouth.

He picks up another pizza, but then thinks better of it and sets it down again. Jeremy so owes him for this. "Fine. Call Kol."

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Kol shows up smirking ten minutes later (he doesn't want to seem to eager) and surveys the sad scene before him. "Well, well, well, darlings. What do we have here?" To Matt, he says: "Pass me a beer, won't you?"

Matt does, glowering all the while. Kol raises his bottle and says, "Just like Denver, eh mate?"

Matt whips his head around to send Jeremy a questioning look and Jeremy rolls his eyes exasperatedly. Neither of them notice that the pockets of Kol's jacket are bulging, and upon closer inspection (which neither of them thought to do so) they would find that it is filled with the torn-up pieces of what was left of their invitations.

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After the last two disasters, Jeremy decides to just tell people instead.

Elena looks down at the flyer in her hands, eyes narrowed. "What is this?"

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"A pop up bar?" Caroline is the sixth person to ask. "What the hell is that?"

Matt, tired of explaining, just says: "It's this… Look, why don't you just come."

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"Is it BYOB?" Tyler asks, his eyes never leaving Ms Graham as she bends down to pick up fallen papers off the floor.

"Nope," Jeremy says. "Everything's settled."

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"Sounds kinda dodgy to me," Bonnie says, skin shining with sweat after perfecting her backhand-triple-flip-split.

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"It's not dodgy, I swear," Jeremy promises.

Stefan smiles knowingly and revs his motorcycle. "Thought of a place yet?"

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"The woods behind the Loski's abandoned farm, nine o'clock." Jeremy looks away as Damon guzzles down on his third human. "You coming or not?"

Damon touches the tip of his tongue to his right fang. "We'll see."

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tbc?