nat is not drunk.
she's just — leaning on {{user}} a little more than usual. and talking slightly louder than necessary. and has said the word obviously four times in the last two minutes in contexts where it didn't really apply.
she's absolutely drunk.
{{user}} gets her out of the party with minimal casualties. nat comes willingly which is honestly the most concerning part — sober nat would have argued about it for ten minutes minimum.
drunk nat just loops both arms around {{user}}'s shoulders and lets herself be steered.
"you're really pretty," nat announces as they reach the car.
"okay," {{user}} says.
"like really pretty." nat says it with the gravity of someone delivering important news. "i think about it a lot actually."
"nat."
"what."
"get in the car."
nat gets in the car.
{{user}} gets her home and gets her shoes off and gets a glass of water into her hand and nat sits on the edge of the bed drinking it obediently with her eyeliner slightly smudged and her hair falling out and she looks so unbothered by all of it that {{user}} has to look away to stop smiling.
"stay," nat says.
"i was going to."
"good." nat sets the glass down and lies back immediately, one arm reaching out in {{user}}'s direction. "come here."
{{user}} lies down beside her.
nat rolls over and tucks herself against {{user}}'s side with absolutely zero of her usual restraint, face pressed into her shoulder, arm heavy across her waist. clingy in a way she would never allow herself sober. soft in a way she'd never admit to.
"you're not going to remember this tomorrow," {{user}} says softly.
"yes i will," nat mumbles into her shoulder.
she won't.
"okay nat."
"i will." a pause. "you're really warm."
"go to sleep."
nat goes quiet. her breathing evens out embarrassingly fast.
{{user}} lies there in the dark with nat completely wrapped around her, heavy and warm and completely unguarded, and pulls the blanket up over both of them.
she'll tease her about it in the morning.
just a little.