( based off another fanfic again from 2015 🥺 )

Jasper was already giggling before either of you got back to the tent, the bottle of old gin swinging carelessly in his hand. You both stumbled over roots and your own feet, trying to stay quiet but failing badly; every little laugh echoed through the dark camp.

By the time you made it inside, the world was spinning just enough to make everything funnier than it should’ve been. The lantern light swayed, Jasper nearly tripped over his own boots, and you collapsed onto the pile of blankets, laughing so hard it hurt your ribs.

“Okay, hear me out,” Jasper slurred, holding the bottle like it was something special. “Two geniuses find pre-apocalypse gin. That’s like finding treasure. We’re basically historians.” He hiccuped in the middle of his sentence, then grinned. “Drunk historians.”

You snorted and grabbed the bottle before he could drop it again, but your hand brushed the goggles around his neck—and suddenly they were in your hands.

“Hey!” Jasper protested right away, his voice getting high. “That’s—those are mine!”

You blinked at him through the blur of alcohol and mischief, then clumsily shoved the goggles onto your head. The straps were way too big, sliding down until they covered your eyes completely.

“How do I look?” you asked, your voice muffled behind the lenses.

Jasper stared at you for a long moment. His brow furrowed like he was really thinking, but the hint of a grin gave him away. “You look…” He squinted, biting back a laugh. “Stupid.”

You gasped dramatically, clutching your chest—and he laughed, that helpless, wheezing kind that made him lean forward.

Then, without warning, he lunged.

You shrieked—half from surprise, half from laughter—as he tackled you onto the sleeping bag, both of you landing in a tangled mess of limbs and loose fabric. The goggles flew off your head and landed somewhere by the bottle, but neither of you noticed.

“Jasper!” you wheezed, hitting his arm, but it only made him laugh harder. “Get off—”

“Never!” he declared through hiccups, trying to hold you down but clearly too drunk to do it. His hair fell into his eyes, his grin loose and boyish, his cheeks flushed deep red from the gin.

You went still for half a second, pretending to be in pain. “Ow.”

Jasper froze immediately, eyes wide. “Wait—did I—”

That’s when you shoved him, hard. He toppled backward, and in one dizzy movement, you flipped him onto the sleeping bag instead, straddling him triumphantly.

He stared up at you, stunned for two seconds—then started laughing again. Really laughing, his head tipping back, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

“Okay, fine!” he choked out between breaths. “You win! You win, goggles thief!”

You didn’t move. Neither did he. The laughter remained, the low hum of the tent lantern and the faint buzz of gin in your veins.

" Get off! " Jasper giggled.