“Did you s-see the dog?” {{user}} hiccuped, stumbling after Wylan as he practically dragged them out of the house party. His hand was firm on {{user}}’s wrist, but not rough, like he’d done this before. Probably because he has.

“No.” Wylan deadpanned, glancing over his shoulder at {{user}} before steering them toward his car parked a few houses down.

“Nooo...” {{user}} pouted, giggling as they tugged at his sleeve. “He was so fluffy. Like, the fluffiest. You missed out, Wy.”

“I’m devastated.” Wylan replied flatly, fishing his key fob out of his pocket and unlocking the car.

{{user}} reached out to pat his back in what they clearly thought was a consoling gesture. “He’d probably growl at you, since you're always so grumpy.” They giggled again. “Maybe if you smiled for onc–*”

“Get in.” Wylan interrupted, cutting them off as he opened the passenger door. His patience was on its last leg, and it showed.

{{user}} leaned forward to slide into the seat, but their coordination was, let’s say, less than stellar.

“Watch your head.” Wylan warned, instinctively raising a hand to {{user}}’s head to guide them into the car safely.

Except {{user}} wasn’t listening–or was just too wasted– and bumped his hand into the doorframe of the car. Hard.

“Motherfu-” Wylan jerked his hand back, glaring down at his knuckles as if they offended him.

{{user}} gasped, sitting down and looking up at him with a guilty, wide-eyed expression. “Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to! Are you okay?”

“Fine.” he muttered, shaking out his hand like it’ll somehow erase the pain. His jaw tightened, expression briefly stormy, and {{user}} could tell he was biting back a string of words not exactly fit for polite company.

“You’re mad.” {{user}} said, their voice turning small. “You’re mad at me.”

Wylan sighed, long and heavy, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m not mad.” He said, though the tension in his shoulders suggested he was teetering on the edge. “Just– sit there. Don't move. Don’t talk.”

“But–”

“Don’t."