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Having patrol in the wee early hours of the morning was never a problem for Shouta. He didn’t mind being awake when much of the city was asleep. The unsavory sort were easier to deal with when the crowds of onlookers were tucked in bed, lowering the risk of collateral damage.
It did, however, piss him off tremendously when his friends dragged him to the bar three hours before he had to suit up.
“You know I can’t drink anything tonight,” Shouta deadpanned as Nemuri slid a glass his way. She rolled her eyes in a long and drawn out show of exasperation, then scooted the glass closer.
“It’s a Shirley Temple, buzzkill,” she replied in a mock gruff tone.
“Why don’t I believe you?” he shot back.
“I’ll taste test it for you!” Oboro volunteered, leaning into Shouta’s space to snatch up the glass and bring the rim to his lips. Shouta cringed as his friend slurped loudly in his ear. “Yup,” Oboro said finally, “Definitely no alcohol in this beverage. Bummer.”
“Good thing our drinks are here!” Hizashi exclaimed as he approached the corner booth with three glasses balanced precariously between his hands. With a flourish, he slid two drinks into their spots in front of his other drunken companions, and took a seat as he sipped his own.
Nemuri pushed the Shirley Temple closer to Shouta, and he relented with a drawn out sigh before snatching up the tall glass and taking a defeated sip.
“That’s a good boy,” Nemuri purred. Shouta ignored her in favor of sipping down more of his sugary beverage.
It only took one more round of drinks for Shouta’s companions to melt into their booth with flushed faces and hearty spirits. Hizashi and Nemuri could hold their own, conversation still flowing easily between them.
But to Shouta’s left, he noticed Oboro had grown quiet. Shouta nudged him slightly with his elbow and barely received a dull hum in response.
“You okay?” Shouta asked softly.
“Yeah… just a bit sleepy,” Oboro replied.
Shouta could easily see the exhaustion creeping over his friend’s features, the effects of the alcohol finally taking their toll. The white haired man was swaying ever so slightly in his seat and had his hands wound tightly in his lap. Every few moments his eyes would flutter, ever so close to falling shut before snapping back to attention.
“Alright,” Shouta announced, slapping a hand onto the table, “I’m heading out. And you–” he pointed at Oboro who fixed him with an innocent stare, “You’re going home too.”
“Awwww! Whyyyyy?” Oboro whined.
“You’re too tired to be out any longer,” Shouta shot back. “You’ll thank me tomorrow when you don’t oversleep for your mid day patrol.”
“Ugh, I hate it when you’re smart,” Nemuri griped, falling forward onto the table with her arms spread wide.
“If you want to rot in the bar all night, be my guest,” Shouta chuckled, pushing Oboro out of the booth and standing up. “Some of us have work to do.”
Nemuri stuck out her tongue, but was quickly pulled back into a conversation with Hizashi and forgot she was even arguing with her other friend. Satisfied, Shouta turned to his companion who was all but asleep while standing up.
“Let’s get you home,” he said smoothly as he patted his friend on the shoulder. Oboro nodded sagely and allowed Shouta to lead him from the bar.
“See you guys tomorrow!” Oboro called back to their other friends, but they were already lost in a new deep conversation topic.
“Don’t waste your breath,” Shouta scoffed. “They’re in their own world.”
“You’re one to talk,” Oboro shot back with a smirk as they left the bar. He was only stumbling slightly, and Shouta only had to pull him back upright once before the cool night air hit them like a brick wall. Shouta hadn’t drank any alcohol all evening and yet the cold brought him sharply to attention as if he were sobering up for the first time that evening.
He began setting a brisk pace to his friend’s apartment only to realize after a few moments that Oboro was trailing behind at a snail’s pace. He was a bit unsteady on his feet, eyes half lidded and soles dragging deftly across the sidewalk. Shouta sighed and back tracked, coming shoulder to shoulder with his friend.
“Need a hand?” he asked softly.
“You’re so fast…” Oboro noted.
“And you’re about to pass out standing up, let me help you.”
Oboro didn’t protest as Shouta pulled him to his side, slinging Oboro’s arm over his shoulder to offer a good amount of support. When the position felt stable, Shouta tilted his head.
“Ready?”
“Shh…. shut up,” Oboro griped.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Shouta tugged his companion along, their sides pressed warmly against one another as they made their way to the bus stop. It was deserted, and Shouta was thankful for a moment of peace. He lowered Oboro onto the bench and sat down beside him. Their thighs were so close, knees bumping and elbows drawn in. Oboro relaxed into Shouta’s side, tilting his head onto the other man’s shoulder and letting his eyes fall shut.
“We’re not there yet–”
“Just… give me a sec,” Oboro said in hushed tones. “Always so matter-of-fact…”
“One of us has to be the voice of reason,” Shouta pointed out, but he didn’t earn a chuckle for his efforts. His companion stayed silent.
It wasn’t long before the bus arrived and Shouta was pulling his friend off the bench and leading him up the small steps to board their much quicker mode of transportation.
Shouta guided Oboro into a seat and plopped down next to him. As the bus pulled off, Shouta felt something small and warm brush against his arm. He glanced down to see Oboro wind his hand around Shouta’s elbow, holding it close.
Shouta’s face began to warm ever so slightly, but he didn’t pull away.
When Oboro’s chin moved and his nose brushed the soft skin of Shouta’s neck he didn’t pull away either.
When the bus pulled up to their stop, Shouta almost felt guilty jostling his companion to lead him off the vehicle. Shouta nodded to the driver and readjusted his grip on Oboro before leading them off into the night. His movements were even more sluggish, tasking Shouta with exerting even more effort to get the other man home safely.
“Only a few more blocks,” Shouta said mostly to himself.
Instead of using his words, Oboro slipped his hand down Shouta’s arm and wound their fingers together, his grip tight as if holding onto his only anchor. Shouta was proud to say he didn’t flinch at the contact, but if his shoulders tensed a bit, who would notice?
Finally, they arrived at the small apartment building where Oboro lived. Shouta led him up the three flights of stairs and down a thin hall before arriving at the wooden door.
Oboro stared at it for a moment before Shouta nudged him as he asked, “Keys?”
“Y… yeah. Right,” Oboro huffed, using his free hand to rummage around in his pockets until his fingers wrapped around the ridged metal and he pulled the key out victoriously. He turned to Shouta with a lopsided smile that made Shouta’s stomach do somersaults.
“The key goes in the lock,” Shouta teased.
Oboro rolled his eyes and attempted to unlock his door to no avail. After five tries, Shouta stepped in and took the key from his friend’s hand and inserted it into the lock himself. The door swung open easily.
“Th-thanks,” Oboro said dumbly as Shouta dragged him inside. He allowed himself to be led to his room where the darker haired man deposited him on the bed and disappeared. Oboro tried to resist the urge to pout before Shouta reappeared with a glass of water.
“Here,” he said gruffly, pushing the glass into Oboro’s hands. He took it and drank greedily. While he was occupied, Shouta crouched in front of him and unlaced his shoes, shucking them to the side. He stood just as Oboro pulled his lips away from the rim and let out a hearty sigh. Shouta took the half drunken glass and set it on the side table.
“Why are you doing this?” The words came out of Oboro’s mouth with surprising clarity. Shouta blinked, caught off guard, but met Oboro’s curious gaze.
“You’re drunk off your ass. I wanted to make sure you got home safe,” Shouta replied as if it were obvious. “That’s what friends do, cloudy.”
“Hmm.” Oboro held his gaze.
“What?” Shouta shot back, feeling nerves prick his skin.
“You don’t help Hizashi or Nemuri get home,” Oboro pointed out.
“They have each other,” Shouta scoffed.
“I guess that means… I have you,” Oboro decided.
“Something like that.”
Oboro fell back onto his covers, still fully clothed.
“Will you stay?”
“Oboro– I have patrol in less than two hours,” Shouta began to explain gently.
“Not all night,” Oboro clarified. “Just… for a bit. Until I… fall asleep.”
Shouta felt a tightness clench in his chest. He took a seat on the edge of the bed next to Oboro’s knees, resting his hand on the soft fabric of the bed just close enough for the tips of his fingers to brush against Oboro’s thigh.
“I like it when you’re nice to me,” Oboro noted out loud.
“I’m always nice to you,” Shouta shot back, earning a chuckle.
“Mmm… not true.”
“Really?”
“You’re a bit… gruff. Blunt. Kind of rude–”
“You sure know how to compliment someone.”
“You can be nice though, sometimes. Like now,” Oboro glanced over at his seated companion. The room was dimly lit by a small lamp and cast shadows that made it much too difficult for Oboro’s sleep and liquor-addled brain to make out any facial expressions from Shouta. He was always a man of mystery, but the horrible lighting didn’t help. “You’re always nicer to me when I’m drunk.”
“Would you rather I give you a hard time?” Shouta teased half heartedly.
“No… I…” Oboro sighed, blinking his eyelids heavily. “I just…”
“Just what?” Shouta pressed.
“I just wish… you were nice to me when I was sober too.”
Shouta blinked, caught slightly off guard. He tried to save it by letting a smirk spread across his face.
“If I was this nice to you all the time, you might never let me leave,” he joked softly.
A warm hand pressed against the top of Shouta’s fingers.
“Would that be… such a bad thing?”
Shouta wasn’t sure how to reply.
By the time he had found the words, soft snores were coming from his companion. He said them anyway.
“No, it wouldn’t.”