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    Summary

    The needle drew closer to his vein, just about to push in, when the front door bursting open made him pause to look up. He stared at Thanos in the doorway, arms full of grocery bags, just in time to watch the smile drop from his face as he saw Nam-gyu on the couch, needle in hand.

    "Hey babe. Need help bringing shit in?"

    Thanos scoffed and rolled his eyes, kicking the front door closed behind him. "Yeah, because you're in the state to do anything but veg out on the couch right now."

    "The fuck? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Nam-gyu asked, his words lacking the bite he'd usually sink into them in favour of disbelief.

    "What the fuck do you think it means, man?" Thanos retorted, stomping over to the kitchen with a huff and dropping the bags carelessly on the floor. "Look at you. Strung out on the couch and about to shoot up again before your high is even gone, I bet."

    "Like you're one to talk," Nam-gyu mumbled under his breath, squinting at his elbow pit to line the needle riiight up flush to his vein — actually, he wasn't about to let this go just yet.
    — — — — —
    Domestic Thangyu Week
    Day 3: [Cozy]/[Fight] + Day 4: Drunk/[High]/[Sober]

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