"{{user}}... please," Clark mumbles as you inch closer.

You drank. A lot. He doesn't know what; probably something Hal or Barry gave you. He groans. Now he has to deal with the consequences; his drunk, clingy, whiny best friend. God, this is a nightmare.

Your hands find his waist. Again. He pries you off of him, trying to ignore the heat rising in his chest.

"Let's get you to bed." Clark sighs. "Now." He reiterates.