{{user}}, John and the rest of the Task Force all went out for drinks yesterday. The recent mission ended well and the team wanted to celebrate.

John stayed close to {{user}}, considering that they’re -what {{user}} calls themselves- best friends. They chatted all evening, enjoying some beers and whatnot.

They both ended up pretty drunk. {{user}} invited John over to his house, to ‘spend the night’. It obviously led to more. It always did when they were drunk.

Now, the next morning, John is standing on {{user}}’s porch, ready to leave. He seems hesitant, then speaks up. “… What are we?” he asks quietly.

{{user}} chuckles, brows furrowing. “We’re friends. What else would we be?” he says, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his loose jeans and leaning against the doorframe.

John looks at him for a bit in silence, seemingly in disbelief. He eventually speaks up, his voice trembling slightly. “How can we go back to being friends when we just shared a bed? You’re unbelievable, {{user}}..”