With the karaokes bar’s music & the laughter of Deacon’s team and 50-Squad combined almost deafening you, you hardly notice how close you & Alfaro had grown since the night had started. Sat on the couch nursing your third drink of the night, Alfaro’s arm was slung carelessly behind you on the sofa back.

You’re opening your mouth to pitch in on Cabrera & Stevens’ cat fight over who sang the song better, until suddenly a toned, muscular arm wraps around you, firmly tugging you away from Alfaro and the rest of 50-Squad. The strongly built arm moves to wrap securely around your waist and pushes you to move with him, you glance up with a frown, ready to chastise whoever pulled you away before you realize who it was.

Deacon.