![]() ![]() ![]() Not you.” Your eyebrows furrowed at him as you flushed slightly, but knew it was more likely a drunk’s slip of the tongue. There he was, the notoriously tough punk rocker, head tilted back, letting tears pour from his still open eyes “Couldn’ do that to people I love. What you hadn’t heard before though, and what made your head shoot up was the sniffles that came next. You had never met the previous Gym Leader, but you’d heard enough from others and Piers to know he was an absolute menace, but not in the charming way like Piers was. Probly would’ve hit Marn.” you nodded, setting his boots by the door. You only paused for a moment to smile at his zigzagoon patterned socks. You patted his knees, a silent request to lift his leg, one at a time, giving you access to remove his heavy boots so he didn’t get dirt all over your furniture. “Mmmdad was ‘nalcoholic y’know…” he started to slur. He exhaled in what was probably actually a burp, slumping down into the well worn cushions. With some minor struggling, mostly due to his unsteady movements, you were able to remove the stiff leather jacket he had performed with, the lining slightly damp with sweat. With a casual salute to the barkeep you pushed out into the cold night air to walk the block to your flat, spikey friend stumbling drunkenly at your hip.Īfter somehow managing to drag him up the stairs while he uttered a thousand mumbled apologies, you finally were able to get him through the door of your apartment and, using his own uneven momentum, maneuvered him to your old couch. You dug the cost of his tab and a fairly generous tip out of the wad of cash in your pocket, knowing Piers would pay you back, and left it on the bartop. You pretended not to notice when his head hit your shoulder and his lips grazed your neck. You shushed him, slipping the lanky man’s arm over your shoulder and supporting his waist. “Mmmsorry, din’t meena this time…” he started to mumble, pushing himself up on his elbows. You had to chuckle, because currently you probably both had matching bags under your eyes. “Hey buddy, c’mon, it’s time to go.” His eyelids fluttered open, pale green eyes with blown out pupils met your own. You reached out a hand to his shoulder, shaking it. In spite of basically becoming the Chamber’s designated ‘talk to the intimidating looking city mascot’ person at the office because ‘you were about the same age, right?’ you were in no way responsible for his actions.īut… abandoning him when he needed help would seriously make you feel like an asshole. ![]() You knew you probably should refuse, teach him to be more responsible. Maybe it was just because he knew it was close to your flat, and that you’d always come to get him. Maybe it was to get a little alone time to decompress after the overwhelming crowds of a concert. ![]() You don’t know why he’d always come into this hole-in-the-wall of a bar alone after a gig. Your eyes returned to the establishment’s keeper and you shot them an apologetic smile and a shrug. They nodded towards your charge, hunched over a table in the back corner– cheek pressed to the surface, still gripping onto a glass with melted ice on the bottom. Going inside, your eyes immediately met the bartender’s, the one who had actually placed the call. You left your apartment dressed in sweats and an oversized hoodie to protect you from the cold night air, and walked the brief distance to the metal door of the neon-soaked pub. Though, the fact he decided to not go home blitzed out of his mind probably showed more concern for his younger sister than anything. Thank god he had built-in babysitters with the more responsible members of Team Yell, otherwise you’d be seriously concerned about his childcare capabilities doing this on an almost weekly basis. In what seemed like very little time, he’d felt comfortable enough to reach out to you on nights like this. You had met a certain Gym Leader and musician at the Spikemuth Chamber of Commerce’s New Year’s Eve Bash™️, and after a few Chamber-related mishaps that you’d been assigned to handle relating to his Gym, you’d developed a friendly rapport. Sketch at the end of crying drunk Piers because I’m a mess and my brain won’t stOP) Also one of my headcanon Piers singing voices so like. (A/N: Not so much a songfic based on “I Want You To Stay” by Maximo Park as like, that song is just the mood/energy. Sure enough, the slightly grumpy worker on the other end let you know that, once again, Piers required your assistance. You’d learned to just stay up on Fridays, watching a movie or reading and waiting on the anticipated call. The call came in at one in the morning, as it had almost every Friday night for just under the last 2 years. CW: Alcohol, Drunken conduct, vague mentions of past physical abuse, mentions of alcoholismĪngsty Fluff while taking care of a sad drunk, nothing spicy. ![]()
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