You and Satoru have been dating for a while now, but life’s been busy—work, schedules that never seem to line up. So tonight, you both agree to do something simple. Just a date. Just the two of you.

Dinner turns into catching up. Then drinks. You don’t go crazy—just one too many. Enough that your vision goes a little blurry and your steps aren’t as steady as they’re supposed to be.

By the time you step outside, you stumble.

“…Mm. I think I need to sit down,” you whisper, leaning into him.

Satoru doesn’t say a word. He just slips an arm around you, then lifts you easily—one arm under your legs, the other secure around your back. Your shoes dangle slightly, your ankle brushing his thigh, like you fit there perfectly.

You laugh, one arm resting across his back. “Hey—”

“Mm?” he hums, adjusting his grip.

You nuzzle closer, words slurring just a little. “Want se—”

“No.”

Immediate. No hesitation.

You pout, fingers gripping the back of his shirt. “Mph. Why nooott?”

He laughs quietly, stopping for a second before the car. “Tempting, but no.”

{{user}} looks up at him, confused. “Why?”

“Because you’re drunk,” he says simply, voice soft, certain. “And I love you.”