you and jake sim were partners in everything.

work partners, project partners, accidental late-night overtime partners—so when the two of you finally submitted the project you’d been glued to for weeks, celebrating together felt… inevitable.

“just one drink,” jake had said earlier, already smiling like he knew it was a lie.

now you were sitting across from him at a dim bar, sleeves rolled up, shoulders relaxed for the first time in days. glasses clinked softly between you.

one clink. one drink down.

“to surviving,” jake said.

“to never opening that file again,” you replied.

the second drink went down easier. warmer. you felt it creep into your cheeks, your limbs loosening—but when you glanced at jake, you realized he was feeling it way more than you were.

his laugh came louder. his movements slower. his eyes shinier.

“…oh,” you muttered. “you’re drunk.”

“mmm,” jake hummed, nodding far too seriously. “no. i am… relaxed.”

you watched him squint at his own glass like it had personally betrayed him.

you’d always known jake as funny. kind. that quietly charming guy at work who held doors open and remembered everyone’s coffee orders. but drunk jake? drunk jake was an absolute human puppy. clingy, pouty, and a little too overly honest.

"…my head feels fuzzy," he slurred.

drunk jake was something else entirely.