Work Text:
Kris wasn't quite sure what had happened. One moment he was extracting his keys from his pocket--damn things were tricksy and evasive, but he would be victoriou...--when he was slammed against the side of his mustang so hard the breath went out of him.
He could only just feel the bass from the club throbbing where he was pressed against the car, his heart beating in opposition--three over four? four over five? The count refused to stay where his brain could catch it, but it was interesting. Maybe he could use it in a song somewhere if he...--when he managed to process the fact that he was BEING PRESSED AGAINST HIS CAR by someone rather large and rather warm.
When had that happened?
The Mysterious Mass of Warmth behind him shifted and huffed out a laugh. "You are REALLY plastered, aren't you?"
Kris thought about protesting, but since he couldn't exactly recall.... Huh. Yeah, couldn't remember how he'd gotten from inside the club to outside it, so maybe Mysterious Mass of Warmth was right.
"Prolly am" Kris agreed sanguinely. He wriggled a little between his car and the MMoW. Hmmm. That felt pretty nice. He wriggled some more.
The MMoW leaned forward a little, pressing Kris forward against the side of the car a bit harder. "Your keeper really shouldn't let you wander around in a place like this all drunk and adorable and alone."
"'M not alone!" Kris protested. "Just...temp'rarily without...whatsit...COMPANIONSHIP. Yeah."
Kris wiggled some more. Being trapped like this really did feel AWESOME.
MMoW snorted. "Companionship? You can use disturbingly long words when you’re drunk." He smacked Kris's hip. "Stop squirming, slut."
Kris froze. "Wasn't."
"Were." MMoW countered "And now you aren't. Good boy."
"I am totally good." Kris said. "Extremely. All the good, MMoW. Y’know, your name sounds like cat noises. Why does your name sound like cat noises?"
"My name?" MMoW sounded amused. "That is really not my name." He moved back a step, leaving Kris pressed against the car with the night air caressing his back.
It wasn't enough; not nearly enough, and Kris involuntarily leaned backwards a little, hoping the MMoW would COME BACK why was he being mean? Kris was totally being good, MMoW said so.
"You are being good, slut. But it's time to go."
"Where y'goin?"
"I am going home."
Kris swallowed "and... where am I going?"
MMoW laughed, the bright sound cutting across the bass pulsing from the club. "You really ARE a good boy, aren't you?" He grabbed Kris by the shoulders, pulling him under his arm and walking him over to a black sedan Kris was 100% certain hadn't been there before. Okay, 80%. Possibly 42%.
"YOU, slut, are going to tell the nice driver where you live, sleep it off, and call me when you're a little less trashed."
When Kris woke up the next morning, there was a bottle of water and some headache pills on his bedside table. His phone was next to them, open to a new contact named "Mmow". He took the pills, drank the still-cold water, and called.