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You giggled as Zayne tripped over his own feet. He probably would have fallen face first if it weren’t for you supporting him. “Zayne, I think you’re drunk,” you teased, his arm wrapped around your shoulder as you slowly guided him towards his car.
“I’m- …not,” Zayne narrowed his eyes, trying to get his sight to work again while the world seemed to spin around you and him. “I’m fine, but I- I appreciate the concern. You can let me go-”
“I can not, you’ll fall,” you retorted, stopping by the side of his car and letting him lean against. “Where are the keys?”
“...what?”
“Sigh, the car keys, Zayne. How am I supposed to drive without them?” You chuckled, you couldn’t even get mad at him. It was so fun to see him so lethargic - so unlike him.
“You will… drive my car?” He asked, blinking slowly like some sort of lizard, “but I can drive, I’m fi-iHih- w-wait, whahat are you dohoing?”
“There is no way I’m letting you drive us home. I should get you a fine just for thinking of doing it right now,” you scolded, understanding you’d be getting nowhere before sunrise if you were going to wait for him to take action. You reached for his pockets, palming and poking around his waist, hips and even up to his ribs.
Of course, you knew the car keys wouldn’t be there, but since you were already at it, what’s the harm? “C’mon, where did you put them?”
“I-I dohohon’t remember! A-Ahah, let meheh think,” Zayne giggled, leaning against the car and turning his face away as he laughed, his face getting even redder.
“You don’t know where you left your own car keys? And you wanted me to let you-”
“Ah!”
“Found them,” you smirked, your hand groping his asscheek. You squeezed it a couple times before sliding your hand into the pocket on the back of his pants.
“...was that necessary?”
“I don’t know, think about it when you’re sober. Now get in, let me take you home, yes? ~”