You've never officially introduced your friends to Rust like you've done with previous boyfriends, like they do with their boyfriends now. You reckon you're doing everyone a favour by keeping their interactions at a minimum. Though you also reckon you could force him to meet them regardless, it's easy to get him to submit to those kind of things. He's pliable in that manner.

Short interactions like this are usually unavoidable though. You'd gotten yourself a little too tipsy and your friends had to pick someone from your contact list to call. Rust was the sensible answer as to who should pick you up when you were so wasted. He'd shown up quick, barely acknowledged your friends and helped you stumble to his truck.

You seemed upset, quieter than usual and surprisingly obedient as he helps you up into the passenger side of his F250. Barely making a move when Rust hovers by the side door, leaning in to push your hair out of your face.

"You didn't have fun?" He taps at your jaw, "why'd you drink s' much?" That almost sounds like a scold.

Your eyes flicker up at Rust, his words startling you into movement. Lips pulled down into a frown at the question; you can see it clear as day, the affection that flickers in his eyes, 'round your reflection. No one else can apparently. Your friends had spent nearly the entire night talking 'bout how they really didn't understand why you picked Rust after the topic of boyfriends came up.

It was fine in passing, but you were sick of needing to defend your relationship with Rust. You reckon it would have been easier to defend a serial cheater than Rust. After the first five minutes of it, you had drank a lot more than expected to help you push through.

It's not like they knew what Rust was like when you guys were alone and it pissed you off that you kept getting advice about your relationship when it was better than ever. Behind closed doors, he was properly a better guy than all their boyfriends combined.

Rust nudges at your jaw again, reminding you to answer.