“Jiyongie.”

He looks up. Daesung is leaning over, his face is upside down. Jiyong smiles hazily.

“Hi,” he hums.

“We should go home,” Daesung says, but resting his hand on Jiyong’s cheek does nothing to help. Because once the petting begins, Jiyong refuses to move. He just stays wherever he happens to be, and demands more.

“I don’t want you falling asleep here again. I won’t be able to carry you.” That’s a lie. Daesung knows he’ll carry Jiyong no matter what. He doesn’t mind either, he just needs to add a bit of urgency to the statement.

Even in this state, Jiyong sees right through him. “Of course you’ll be able to carry me. You always do.” Jiyong’s speech is slow, a little slurred and he speaks with a smile.

Daesung withdraws his hand and stands up. “Let’s go.”

Jiyong tries to reach for him, but misses Daesung’s hand twice before he manages to latch onto it. He glances up, smile slowly melting into a pout. “No.”

Daesung shakes his head. There goes the pout. At this point he’s resistant to it, but Jiyong still tries to use it every time. But Daesung likes him like this. When he hasn’t yet drank enough for it to be dangerous, when he’s just tipsy enough to turn into the gentlest version of himself.

And that is exactly why Daesung needs to take him home. Call him selfish, but when he’s like this, Daesung wants Jiyong all to himself.

Besides, Jiyong doesn’t know his own limits. If anything, Daesung is looking out for his boyfriend.

“Come on.” Daesung tries to use the fact that Jiyong is holding onto him to pull him into a sitting position. He lifts his arm, slowly, until Jiyong sits up straight. Apparently hanging off Daesung as he lifts him like a dumbbell is amusing to Jiyong since he can’t stop giggling.

And then he flops forward, head resting on Daesung’s groin. His hand slips out of Daesung’s. Shaking his head with a smile, Daesung tucks one hand into his pocket and places the other on top of Jiyong’s head.

“Jiyongie,” he calls again.

The elder doesn’t respond. He sways just a bit to the left. If it wasn’t for Daesung’s interference, Jiyong’s face would’ve ended up in his crotch.

Which, in a different setting Daesung wouldn’t have been opposed to. But given the circumstances, he can’t allow it.

He holds Jiyong by the shoulder, to keep him in an upright position and away from his .

Jiyong whines in protest.

Daesung cups Jiyong’s cheek. At this, his smile returns promptly. Jiyong leans into the touch, eyes fluttering shut. Daesung his cheek, fingertips ghosting over Jiyong’s curled lips. On second thought—Daesung steps closer, rubs his thumb along Jiyong’s bottom lip. Just as Jiyong tries to catch Daesung’s finger between his lips, he moves his hand. He swipes his thumb to the other side of Jiyong’s face. With his hand over Jiyong’s mouth as it is, Daesung is able to squish both his cheeks at the same time.

This makes Jiyong chuckle, though it’s muffled because of Daesung’s hand.

He could never have enough of this. He could stay here, just pampering and coddling his sleepy boyfriend. And he lets himself indulge for a little while, just a little bit of playing with the short strands of hair at Jiyong’s nape, just a little bit of caressing his cheek with the back of his palm, the coolness of Daesung’s rings making Jiyong shudder when they graze his skin.

Just a little bit.

Because Daesung was serious about not letting Jiyong fall asleep in a club again, no matter how VIP the room is.

“Okay, we’re going now,” he announces. He bends down and picks Jiyong up, holding him by the thighs.

“Nooooo,” Jiyong whimpers. He rests his chin on Daesung’s shoulder, and simply continues whining.

He only stops once they’re in the car. Draped over Daesung in the backseat, Jiyong glances up with that dissatisfied little pout on his lips.

“You’re such a buzzkill.”

“I’m only looking out for you,” Daesung says innocently, brushing Jiyong’s bangs out of his eyes.

Jiyong is having none of it. He curls himself up and hides his face in the crook of Daesung’s neck, because he knows that Daesung loves nothing more than to squish and poke his cheeks. This way, access is restricted.

“Admit it, you just want me all to yourself,” Jiyong mutters.

Daesung doesn’t respond immediately. He ruffles Jiyong’s hair, lets him hide away for a while. He drags his hand down Jiyong’s spine, rests it on the small of his back.

“Maybe I do,” Daesung says. “What about it?”

Jiyong peeks out from out of his hiding spot. He lifts his head more, until he’s no longer hiding.

“I guess… it’s cute when you take care of me.”

When they kiss, Daesung is still smiling. He drags his hand back up, laces his fingers in Jiyong’s hair. Jiyong kisses as if he can’t decide between lazy and intense. He wants to bite and pull Daesung’s bottom lip but changes his mind halfway and settles on on it instead. Daesung doesn’t mind a slower pace either, he doesn’t mind the slow slide of their tongues, doesn’t mind nipping on Jiyong’s lower lip only when he lets him. Jiyong lets out a sound between a sigh and a moan and pulls away, lips cherry red, still parted, as if he forgot that he can breathe through the nose.

He looks up at Daesung. “You’re still a buzzkill though.”

Daesung doesn’t argue against this point. Partly because he doesn’t mind giving Jiyong the last word and partly because he’s already leaning in for another kiss.