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“You’re like pussy whipped, or… dick whipped. Wait no, is it hole whipped?” Mack blurts out, cheeks flushed and eyes glassy, he’s like the most lightweight guy Sam’s ever met. Ever. He’s a hundred percent sure he’s drank four drinks in the span of two hours, Four. That’s heinous. He’s already acting like this.
Dickie indulges him anyway, he’s been scoping the place for Misa, who told him he was going to the bathroom and left him with a pat on Sam’s head like a well behaved dog, but that was like ages ago, “What the fuck are you even talking about Mack?”
“You and Misa.” Mack nods, stirring his fruity drink around as if this is the most obvious thing in the world.
Sam snorts, still looking out at the crowd, looking for the swoopy mop of Misa’s pretty hair, “You’re sick,” he throws back, Mack’s a weirdo. Genuinely. A freaky weirdo.
“You’re gay.” Mack giggles, he’s talking way too loud for Sam’s taste but the music is pounding way too loud too, Sam can feel it in his teeth, still. Not loud enough for Toff or Kief to not hear him. Which is great—way to give Kief a warm welcome.
“I’m not actually- if anyone’s gay it’s you.” Whatever, Kief should know what he’s getting himself into. And Sam can actually blame it on being drunk without it being embarrassing cause he’s downed more drinks than Mack. He’s not gay actually, he’s something. He’s Misa whipped.
“What the fuck dude.” Mack sputters, throwing a hand out that gets quickly put down by an unamused Toff, he’s trying to keep up a conversation with Kief but it’s obvious they’re both listening in on them, where the fuck is Smitty even.
“Can you two shut up.” Toff finally caves, which wow. Acting as if he and Mack aren’t literally delivering the highlight of his night.
“Who even are you?” Sam deadpans.
“Real mature dickie.” Toff purses his lips, he’s not amused by Sam either. Sometimes he acts as if Misa was his 16 year old daughter and Sam was her first boyfriend who he doesn’t like one bit, sometimes Sam feels inclined to tell him, I’ll bring her home by 11 sir, when he picks Misa up from Toff’s. He’s pretty sure Toff’s close to asking them to leave Misa’s door ajar or something.
But Sam’s careful with that though, makes sure to put a hand over Misa’s mouth to muffle his whimpers and moans, makes sure to bite at Misa to muffle his own noises. Sam likes it though, he likes pretty much everything involving Misa lately. Agrees to almost everything he says, shuts up when he tells him to, drives him everywhere, buys him whatever he wants even though Misa can pay for it, even though he doesn’t ask for it.
No matter how much Sam playfully punches him, or how much he pulls him and drags him like a toy, it all sort of cancels out when he nods like a fool at the mere sound of misa’s voice.
Sam’s kinda over Mack’s drunken bored rambling, head feeling heavy already and Misa’s not back so he can lean against him, rest his head on his shoulder and breath into his neck for a little, to not even bother to play it off as bro-y thing, he stands up slowly, throwing a finger behind his back, “I’m gonna- where’s Mis?”
“See, dick whipped.” Mack grins, looking at Toff as if he would agree with him. The last thing Toff wants to hear about is that Sam’s dick whipped about his 16 year old daughter who happens to be 19 year old hockey player Michael Misa. That’s like top 5 worst things a father could ever hear.
“Shut up Mack.” Toff huffs, clipping him in the back of the head, Sam’s already leaving when he hears Mack’s tiny delayed ouch.
It smells damp. Like. Musky but in a bad way. Not in a Misa’s sweat mixed with his cologne way, just a gross—some people here forgot to put deodorant way. It’s crowded and sweaty, Sam doesn’t even bother muttering sorry’s to the people he pushes by cause they don’t even spare him a second glance, he makes it to the bar, which is also crowded. God, they should stop letting Ekky pick these places.
He scopes out the place again, eyes squinting against the harsh light amongst the darkness of the place, Sam almost jumps in excitement when he spots Misa by the bathroom entrance, nodding along to whatever Ekky’s muttering in between them.
Sam has to push through a whole other crowd just to reach them, bass thumping under his feet, every step getting heavier and heavier until he’s feet away from his misa.
Ekky spots him first, waving a little, but Sam doesn’t really care about that. Already beelining for Misa who’s looking at him expectantly, he wedges himself right in between them, so Ekky gets the message.
Thankfully he does because he daps them up and leaves a second later, and now Sam’s got Misa all for himself, he almost rubs his hands together greedily like a mosquito.
“Where’d you go?” Sam whines, whatever. He’s allowed.
“Ekky held me up.” Misa explains, looking at him with his pretty eyes.
“I wanna leave. We should leave.” Sam nods, sliding his hand to lock around Mike’s wrist, just a tiny point of contact, his fingers curling just right, so he can feel his pulse point. If he could he’d tie himself 24/7 to Misa. Like those kids at theme parks that get leached to a monkey hanging off their back. Sam would be like the monkey he thinks with a giggle—that’s Mack’s levels of weird.
“What’s so funny?” Mike frowns at him, eyes crinkling, laughing a little too even though he doesn’t know what Sam’s even laughing at cause he’s just that great.
“I’m like- whipped.” Sam mumbles, fighting the urge to plaster him all over Misa, so he runs his thumb up and down Mike’s wrist, right on the center just to feel closer to him.
“What?” Mike laughs, a crease forming between his eyebrows.
“Yeah,” Sam nods, Mike should get it. He’s smart.
“Alright. I think we should go.” Misa mumbles, pulling him with his wrist, like he knows Sam won’t let go.
Sam follows him through the crowd, tightening his hold around Mike’s soft wrist until they reach their table. Toff and Kief are still there, Smitty’s entertaining Mack’s drunk rambling now and Cherny is Ekky’s new victim. Tough. He drags his eyes back to Misa.
“We’re going to head out,” Mike speaks for them or shouts, nodding his head to the exit, Toff perks up, as if he was waiting for Misa to drop the magic words.
“I’ll drive you guys. Cat dropped me off.”
“That’s cute. For old people.” Mack laughs. Can someone shut this guy up already?
Everything else sort of turns into background noise to Sam after that, he keeps clinging moderately to Mike until Mikey slides his hand into his, warm and clammy just how Sam likes it.
He leans all his weight on Mike on the way to Toff’s, head on his shoulder so he can finally breath into his neck like he wanted to. He would breath Misa in all the time and swap it out for oxygen, honestly. He pecks him right under his jaw, just a tiny dry mouthed thing that he wishes he could turn into a hickey, maybe a few bites right on his bicep. Sam would eat him whole if he could.
Instead he slips in and out of sleep until Mikey shakes him awake gently and then leads him all the way up to his room, Sam slips two fingers into his back pocket when they’re out of Toff’s sight. Just to feel closer, just to drag Misa back to him.
“Take your shoes off bud,” Mike mumbles when they walk into his room but Sam’s too tired already, dropping himself on Misa’s soft sheets. They smell like him, and probably a tiny bit like Sam too but he can’t even tell, the smells blending into the other.
“You take ‘em off.” Sam pouts into the bed, smiling when he feels Misa untie his laces, pulling his left shoe and then his right off, his hand wraps around his ankle after.
“Come on Dickie, take your pants off.” Mike shakes him a little, hand sliding up to the back of his thigh.
“Wow. I’m not that easy buddy.” Sam grins. It’s a big fat lie. He’s so easy for Mike he’d throw himself off a cliff if he asked.
Misa pinches him, “Stop being an idiot.”
Sam squeals at the touch, “Okayy, ouchy.”
“Don’t say ouchy, weirdo.” Mike laughs and Sam turns around just to see it, all white teeth and peeking canines, making his cheeks bunch up. He’s like the most handsome guy out there. In a weird, definitely gay way.
Sam pushes his pants down clumsily, dragging himself to the edge just to kick them off, Mike stand in front of him, right between his legs like he knows what’s coming next. Sam lifts his hands up so Misa can pull his shirt off over his head, then he drags his hand through Sam’s short hair like he always does, Sam tilts his head up for it, hums when Mikey does it just right.
He pokes Misa on his clothed stomach, right where there’s that small spot of soft belly, Sam likes to bite there sometimes, likes the sound Mike makes when he does it, likes the way he puts his hand on Sam’s hair and pushes him deeper, practically begging for more. But that’s for another day, “Take it off, Mis,” Sam looks up at him, pulling the shirt towards him but that only moves Misa closer. Big brown eyes looking down at him, shining in the dim light.
Mike undresses in record time, all in front of Sam like his own personal treat, arms flexing when he pulls his shirt up. He’s beautiful everywhere. It’s all sappy shit he mostly thinks when he’s drunk. He thinks it while he’s sober too but when he’s drunk and Mike’s the only person there it’s like the only thing his brain can conjure.
“Gimme a kiss dude.” Sam groans impatiently, “You owe me.”
“Why do I owe you?” Misa raises his eyebrows, running his hands up and down Sam’s shoulders slowly, thumbs digging into his collarbone.
“You left me for ages,” he complains again, thumping his head against Mike’s toned stomach.
Misa pushes a knee into the bed forcing Sam to slide up, “I was gone for like ten minutes.,” he mutters as he crawls up the bed.
He’s for sure lying cause it did not feel like 10 minutes at all, but Mike’s laying on his back now, looking at him expectantly an open invite for Sam to lie between his legs on top of him. Sam can’t really argue now.
It’s all skin on skin now, warm against his own, Sam pecks Mis on center of his chest, “Gimme my kiss.”
Mike giggles, this one’s cute and not annoying like Mack’s, only a parent could find that cute, maybe even Smitty, “Come up here,” he slides his hand into Sam hair, fingers on the back of his neck to drag him up.
Sam pushes himself up too, leaning down to kiss Mike’s pillowy pliant mouth, easy for him cause he’s easy for it too. The only sound in the room turns into the soft smack of their lips, turning wet and breathy until Sam can’t breath anymore, until his lungs burn, his lips bruise, and his mind only runs on misamisamisamisa.
He drags himself back down, arms coming around Mike. Mike does the same, one hand around his shoulders and the other scratching his scalp with deft fingertips, Sam’s breathing softly into the inside of Misa’s arm, “I’m whipped,” he blurts out nonsensically again.
“You’ve said.” Mike mumbles above him. His other hand drawing tiny vague shapes on the back of his shoulder, nails scratching every once in a while.
Sam speaks into Misa’s arm, “I’m hole whipped.”
“Dude what,” his nails dig into his back a little. It feels nice, reminds Sam of other things.
“That’s what Mack said.”
Misa laughs, “Mack’s an idiot when he’s drunk.”
Sam shakes his head against Mike’s chest, “No. He’s right,” he really wants Misa to get it, “Like, I’d tie us together if I could. I’d marry you bro.”
Misa’s fingers stall on his hair before they resume their sweet little motions, “Then I’m whipped too,” he admits, whispering it between them. It makes Sam’s heart pick up behind his ribcage stupidly and lovesick probably.
“That’s good.” Sam mumbles, finally biting Mike like he wanted to on the inside of his arm, Mikey makes a sweet sound that he hears reverberate in his chest. Sam licks him to ease the pain, a small apology, blows on it after just how he knows Mikey likes.
“I’d marry you too.”
“Yeah?” Sam breathes out.
“Totally. lock it down and everything.” Misa giggles, chest moving underneath him. it rattles inside of Sam somehow, makes him feel like he walking on cloud nine like a fool.
“Put a ring on it,” Sam muses, “M’ gonna.”
“Go to sleep.”
Sam bites him again, tiny with just his front teeth, then up, up, and then goes back down. Tiny little nibbles on mike’s arm that he kisses right after, “We’re like, gay for each other right?”
Mis snorts, “I guess,” he’s still running his fingers though Sam’s hair, slow and absentmindedly, a habit now. It’s still as good as always, thumb scratching behind his ear, caressing the sensitive skin there. Sam’s eyes feel heavier than they did a few minutes ago.
“I don’t mind,” Sam tries to shrug. There’s this bubble in his chest, like it wants to pop or something, maybe is his drunken haze that’s making him think these things, that makes him want to burst open the bubble and just spill his guts out. Tell Mikey he fucking loves him, that if he was a girl he’d have his babies or some shit. That if he was a cannibal he’d eat him out of love. That he’d crawl into his chest and make a tiny Sam-shaped hole in it so he could live there forever.
Mikey pecks the top of his head, “Cool. me neither,” he whispers, and Sam falls asleep with the words in the tip of his tongue. Maybe some other time he’ll man up and tell him.