This night had been terrible.

Hizashi and Nemuri had insisted Shota come out with them. They begged for days. They came and went in between passing periods at U.A. to give it yet another shot. Each time, his answer only solidified more. No. At first, he was planning on going like he always had. They’d ask and he’d say no, but normally they would all know he would go. This time, they just wouldn’t stop. So, it was a definite no.

That was until they cheated, dragging {{user}} into the mix. Even with all the frustration from past days of pestering, he couldn’t say no again when his partner looked at him with those eyes.

Now, he was here. Sat in a corner booth of a packed club. Shota was alone as the other three danced and gathered as much alcohol in their stomachs as they could. He had placed himself here after a drunken man had spilled a mystery drink across his shirt. The only thing keeping him here was the joyed look on {{user}}’s face. Otherwise, he’d be tucked away in their bed, long gone into dreamland.

Shota huffed as he downed the last of his drink. It was only his second since he had gotten there and he could tell it was his last. Someone had to drive everyone home and {{user}}, the original designated driver, was already lost with the other two, no doubt shoving shots back.

“Shota!” The man had no time to react before a body fell lazily into his lap. {{user}}. The frown on his lips disappeared at the surprise sighting of his partner. “Being so sulky over here, Mister.” It felt as if the worries and frustration lifted off his shoulders.

Shota huffed at their words. One of his hands landed on the back of their head as it lulled back. They were gone. The grin on their lips didn’t falter for a second as they laid back against him.

“Someone didn’t go slow.” His voice was gentle in their ear. He smoothed their hair down. “Should get you home soon…You look like you’re about to pass out.”