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Reigen takes a long hard sip of his umpteenth lemon sour, eyes locked on you as he empties the glass. You bite your lip and slowly slide the glass away from his straw threateningly, “Reigen, do you have any idea how many of these you’ve had?” you ask with a concerned smile. Despite your efforts, he successfully finishes the cocktail before you can fully get the drink away from him.
“No,” he answers simply, a drunken grin forming on his face, “don’t tell me.” He props his elbow onto the counter of the bar, still holding the straw between his fingers. A few drops of lemon sour drip from the straw onto the counter. You narrow your eyes at it, but when you glance up at Reigen again, you see his eyes have followed yours to the dripping of alcohol. He brings the end of the straw to his lips, sucking the last droplets out like a man dehydrated. You sigh.
“No more, okay?”
“Mmmm..” he hums noncommittally, then points his straw at you. “You’re the one who invited me out,” he slurred, lifting his brows.
That’s true, you did. Business at Spirits and Such had been slow, and Reigen looked pretty down. Actually, you had invited both Ekubo and Serizawa too, but neither of them were able to make it (and you’re pretty sure Ekubo just didn’t want to come) so it ended up being the two of you. You didn’t usually get much alone time with your boss anyway, so this–being outside of work with him–was nice.
The bar you both are at is busier than when you first got there, and the music seems louder. You’ve only had one drink, since you knew you’d probably have to drive Reigen home, and by the progression of the night, it seems you were right. He drops the straw into the empty glass you’re still holding, and leans his head against his hand.
You push the empty glass back over to him. “You’re right, I did, but I’m not even sure how many lemon sours you’ve had.” He just looks at you, like he’s slowly registering your words. You exhale through your nose, “I just mean that you’ve had a lot.”
He begins nodding slowly, his head lolling slightly. “No, yeah, I know,” he says, lifting his head off his hand to better look at you. He begins to sway mindlessly in his barstool, then kicks out to nudge your shin. “I feel fine, though,” he assures, a smile finding its way onto his lips.
A loud cheer sounds behind you in the bar, jolting Reigen half-sober, and you turn in your stool to glance at the source of the sound. There’s a large group of people huddled around a booth, raising drinks and laughing.
“They’re loud, huh?” Reigen’s voice is suddenly much closer to your ear, and you snap your head back to look at him, startled. He watches you for a moment before leaning his head back to its original distance between you, eyes half-lidded, waiting for your reply.
“Oh, yeah, they are,” you agree. You glance at your watch, and see it’s almost midnight. You don’t have work tomorrow, but that doesn’t mean Reigen doesn’t either, so you’re unsure how long you two should stay here. Out of the corner of your eye, you realize the bartender is standing in front of you on the other side of the counter and glance up.
“Yes, please. Thank you,” Reigen is saying as the bartender walks away.
“What did you just–?”
“I ordered another drink. You know, this bar is kinda crappy. Next time we go out, we’ll go to the one I pick. We’re just lucky they sell lemon sours here..” He was speaking rather quickly for someone so intoxicated.
Your eyes widen slightly. “Next time we..? You’re getting another drink?”
The bartender returns with Reigen’s lemon sour, and he’s already fumbling for his wallet. He puts a bill on the counter and nods in thanks to the bartender before bringing the straw to his lips. He takes a sip and glances at you, as if to check if you’re still watching him. “Y’wanna sip?”
You blink at him. “I’m good,” you say, but take the lemon off the rim of his glass to suck on. You scrunch your nose at the sourness of it and lick your lips, placing the lemon back on the rim of his glass. He nonchalantly takes the lemon off and tries it for himself.
“It’s not that sour,” he decides.
“I think your tastebuds have been numbed from all the lemon sours you consume.”
He shrugs. “You should see my salt tolerance.”
You decide not to comment further and instead just watch him as he takes another long sip from his cocktail. He hums in satisfaction and takes his mouth off the straw to hand it to you. Confused, you go along with it and take it from him. Without any hesitation, he quickly downs his drink in one and puts it down on the table again.
“Thaaaank you,” he hums, snatching the straw from your fingers and dropping it into his now-empty glass. “What time is it?” he asks, leaning forward to peer at your watch.
You extend your wrist to show him the time. “It’s nearly midnight, think we should call it?” He frowns at the small clock on your wrist, having trouble reading it with his alcohol-addled mind.
“Oh, nooo..” he complains, “I’m having a good time. Are you not? You should get a drink.”
You chuckle nervously. “It’s not that.. It’s just getting sort of stuffy in here, don't you think?” you ask. The harsh lights are starting to annoy you.
Reigen’s eyes roam over your face before glancing around lazily at the bar. “I didn’t really notice, but sure,” he agrees. “You wanna leave then?”
“Sorry,” you start, “I don’t mean to take you away from your.. lemon sours.”
“I’ll live.”
You look at him, and he’s looking back down at you. He clears his throat, picks up his empty glass, and then sets it back down. “Let’s go?”
You nod and push off your stool, but notice Reigen’s having some trouble getting off himself. He almost stumbles forwards before catching himself on the side of the bar and looking over at you helplessly. “You, uh, all good?” you ask, approaching him again.
“I think I’ll need my excellent employee to help me out..” he mutters, giving you a weak smile.
You put his arm over your shoulder and help him off the barstool. He curses under his breath and leans his weight on you, which makes it a little hard to move, but you manage to stagger the both of you out of the bar and to the parking lot.
You sigh a breath of relief when you make it out of the bar, the cool night air hitting your face. It’s refreshing, and the moon is visible from where you are. You walk Reigen to the parking lot, and when you’re close enough, he leans off of you to instead lean against the hood of your car. He hums contentedly. “It is nicer out here,” he declares with a slight slur. His gaze shifts away from his surroundings, down to you standing in front of him.
You hum in agreement, tucking some hair behind your ear as it blows in the light wind. “Yeah.”
He stares at you in silence, his brows slightly furrowed in concentration. You’re about to say something when you notice him slowly leaning to the side, about to fall over. “Woah,” you quickly say, stepping closer and automatically reaching your hands out to steady him. He’s able to catch himself by grabbing your arms, clutching them tightly. You probably wouldn’t have been able to catch him if he really had fallen. Nevertheless, you giggle at him, and he blinks rapidly, exhaling a deep breath.
He whispers your name, bewildered. “You caught me.. Remind me to give you a raise when I’m sober..”
You laugh. “Really? I get a raise for that?”
“Mm, ‘course. You saved the life of the..” he sighs and drops his face into your shoulder, “..great Reigen Arataka.”
His voice is quieter, tired. The effects of the seven (?) lemon sours seem to be catching up to him. You’re unsure what to do, how to move. His face is currently buried in your shoulder, and his hands are finding their way to your waist. “Can we stay out here for a little?” he requests. “The breeze is nice.”
“Sure,” you say quietly. You feel his hands fiddle at the fabric of your shirt before settling above your hips. You shrug the shoulder he’s leaning his head on, forcing him to lift it and look at you.
He looks mildly disturbed, but his gaze is heavy, almost intense with how his eyes are boring into you. The corner of his lips lift. “The moonlight’s hitting you nicely,” he comments, vision lazily scanning your features.
“Thanks,” you smile. “The alcohol’s giving your face a nice tint,” you compliment back.
“Oh, am I flushed?”
“Mhm,” you hum, your smile growing the longer you look at him.
He chuckles and looks down at his hands at your hips. They slowly move to hold your hands instead. His movements are slow, controlled despite how inebriated he is, as if giving you an opportunity to move away or pull back.
But you don’t.
He takes your hands in his, thumbs slowly rubbing the soft skin there. “Your hands are warm,” he mutters, almost distracted by the feeling of your hands. “Yeah, ‘s nice..” he says to nobody in particular. Then, he lifts one of your hands up and presses your palm against his chest, where his heart is. You feel your face heat up and just hope he’s too drunk to notice.
“Y’feel that?” he asks, looking down at you with an expression that can only be described as ridiculously serious. He presses your hand a little firmer against his chest, as if desperate to have you feel his heartbeat.
“Uh, yeah..” you stammer. You can definitely feel his heart. It’s racing so rapidly you’re surprised it hasn’t jumped out of his chest already. “Pretty fast..” you mumble awkwardly.
“It does that whenever I’m near you,” he confesses, as if that’s just something people say to each other casually. His other hand, still holding yours, is running over your fingers gently.
You’re not sure how to reply, taken aback by your boss’ indirect confession. He’s just drunk, you remind yourself, you can’t really trust much of what he says. Is it just beating so fast because of the alcohol in his system? Luckily for you, you don’t need to think of anything to say, because he continues to speak.
He brings your hand up to his face, placing it on his flushed cheek. “That?” he continues to press.
“It’s.. warm,” you remark sheepishly.
“Maybe even as warm as your hand. Oh, it’s nice..” He leans his face into your palm, eyes fluttering closed for what might’ve been three seconds before shooting open again. He lets go of both of your hands to run his own up and down your sides, causing you to blush for a moment.
“Reigen..?” you manage, “what are you doing..?”
“Checking..” he mutters gruffly, hands roaming to your back.
“..For what?”
“To see if you’re this warm everywhere..” His hands pause at the small of your back, pulling you closer gently. “Are you always so warm?” he asks, raising a hand to brush some hair from your face.
You can’t deny how flustered you’re becoming. You’ve never seen Reigen so handsy, nor have you seen him so drunk. You can only assume he gets like this with everyone, but his words ring in your head.
It does that whenever I’m near you.
Whenever he’s near you.
But again, he’s drunk out of his mind, slurring his words and all. Though, he’s been fairly coherent…
You hear him call your name.
Right, he asked you a question.
“Reigen..” you begin, and he’s looking at you like he’s hanging onto every word. “We should really go now.”
He groans and buries his face into your shoulder again like a defiant child. You still. You don’t tense or go rigid, just stay very still. “We don’t have to..” he mumbles against your skin, trying to subtly pull you closer.
“It must be past midnight,” you say gently, tilting your head to look at him. You’re met with his reddish hair, slightly disheveled from the wind. The scent of it, of his shampoo, wafts gently into your face. He smells familiar, and you get a small whiff of something spicy, like pepper. “So.. I think we have to.”
He makes a muffled, reluctant noise. “Are you gonna drive me home?”
“Mmh, yeah, I will,” you say, putting your hand just above his elbow, beginning to coax him into letting go.
“I’ll be lonely at home.”
You pause, letting your boss’ words repeat in your head. You take a deep breath, moving your hands over to where his rest on your waist. “Yeah, I–”
“Could you stay over?” His voice is rougher, slightly quieter, like he’s shy to be asking.
You think about his question. Maybe you should, really. And you’re not just saying that because you want to, no way. It’s only logical that you shouldn’t leave a drunk person alone, right? Plus, he’s your boss, and you get along well. Pretty well. Well enough. And the poor guy, he lives alone, and so do you, so–okay, maybe you should stay over.
“..Sure,” you decide, your voice soft. “Sure, why not?”
“Yeah?” he asks, the smallest hint of hopefulness in his tone as he nuzzles closer into the crook of your neck. You can feel his breath fan against you and the lightest press of his smile at your skin, near your collarbone.
“Yeah, Reigen. Now, c’mon, let’s go,” you say, gently prodding his arm. He begrudgingly lifts his head from the comfortable spot where your shoulder meets your neck and looks down at you. Your faces are close, closer than they’ve ever been before. He stares at you in silence for a moment, and even looks like he’s concentrating on how to say something, but then his eyes soften imperceptibly and the smallest of smiles creep onto his face. You squeeze his hand to bring him from wherever he’s gone in his head back to this moment. His hazy eyes focus on you again as you nod towards the car door.
“Mmn.. yeah, let’s go..”