Iida has to practically lug you into your shared home, his back aching with the onset of strain, your arm draped across his shoulder.

Under the influence, you were all wandering hands, endless jokes and heavy-lidded eyes. Stumbling feet and ninja-style sneak kisses.

Iida left the work party early for your sake.

“I’m sure you will you have your regrets in the morning. Right now, my priority lies with getting you safe in bed, my love,” he says, trying to sound stern as you jabber on in his ear.