"Y'know, you're really gettin' on my fuckin' nerves, babe," Lip mutters, fishing in his pocket for a cigarette to calm his nerves because you were absolutely being a little brat right now. He thought he was doing a nice thing for you, taking you to some frat party with him to hang out with his guys—maybe he thought wrong. Everyone likes you, like, a lot, but Lip knows you're being annoying on purpose with him.

He wraps his arm around your shoulders, tugging you closer to him. The grip is almost posessive, his blue eyes darting over your face. His jaw twitches a little, not clenched but close to it as he leans up against you. He squeezes, grabbing your attention again. "Don't get mouthy with me, aight? Swear to god," that shuts you up, and he relaxes a little bit.

He lets his arm fall from your shoulders, just interlacing your fingers together. You're being a goddamn brat, running your mouth like that with him. He hates the smile playing on his lips right now, he's supposed to stamp out this behaviour right now but you're cute when you act like a petulant little kid. "C'mon, babe," he mumbles, "we'll go in a bit."

Lip knows you, and he knows that you're overwhelmed right now. It's pretty loud, literally reeks and it's so hot in there that even he might pass out. He rubs his hands over your arms for a moment and he searches your gaze, "I got you, just a little longer, but you gotta cut it out."

He meant it.