Drunk

                                    

                                          
Scar’s POV
Cute Guy was... well, cute. There was no other way to put it. He was tipsy, twirling the end of my tie like it was the most fascinating thing in the world, completely ignoring whatever I wasn’t even saying. Honestly, I hadn’t been talking about the next part of the mission—what was the point? He wasn’t listening, and I couldn’t blame him. The mission was over, and the party atmosphere was still buzzing faintly around us.
But I couldn’t stop watching him. His movements were loose, relaxed, his usually sharp eyes a little hazy as he leaned closer to play with my tie. I knew I should probably tell him to stop, but I didn’t have it in me. He was drunk, yes, but he wasn’t sloppy. He was... adorable.
And dangerous.
Dangerous because every time he touched my tie, every time his fingers brushed a little closer to my chest, I felt my resolve slipping. I couldn’t exactly tell him to stop without sounding like I cared more than I should. But I couldn’t let it go on forever either—it wasn’t like I could let myself get distracted by how ridiculously attractive he looked under the club’s dim lights.
“Cute Guy,” I said finally, my voice low, trying to ground him without breaking the moment completely. He hummed in response, not looking up, still focused on the tie.
“You’re drunk,” I added, as if it wasn’t obvious.
“So?” he mumbled, his fingers slowing but not stopping.
“So, you’re messing with my tie, and I don’t think you even realize it.”
He looked up then, his gaze unfocused but still managing to meet mine. For a moment, he just stared, blinking slowly like he was trying to process what I’d said. “Your tie’s nice,” he muttered, a lopsided grin spreading across his face. “Really nice. Did you always wear ties like this, or is this special just for me?”
God, he was teasing me, wasn’t he? Drunk or not, Cute Guy had a way of making everything sound like a challenge, like he was daring me to react. And I couldn’t help it—I smiled. “It’s just for the mission,” I replied, my tone as steady as I could manage. “Don’t get used to it.”
He pouted at that, and I almost laughed. “Shame,” he said, finally letting go of the tie and leaning back against the wall. “I like the tie. Makes you look... dashing.”
I raised an eyebrow at him, crossing my arms. “Dashing?”
“Yeah,” he said, nodding too enthusiastically. “Like, I don’t know, some kind of gentleman who also punches bad guys. Very classy, very...” He waved a hand vaguely in the air. “Heroic.”
It was my turn to feel a little flustered, though I didn’t let it show. “Well, thank you for the glowing review,” I said dryly. “But you’re going to hate me in the morning when I remind you of everything you said tonight.”
He smirked, his confidence not wavering in the slightest. “Who says I’ll regret it?”
That made me pause. Cute Guy had a way of throwing me off balance, of turning the tables when I least expected it. I couldn’t tell if he was just playing with me or if there was something else lingering behind his words, something unspoken but undeniably there.
Before I could respond, his expression softened, and he reached up to touch my tie again, this time with a gentleness that caught me off guard. “You’re good at this, you know,” he said quietly, almost to himself.
“At what?”
“Being... dependable,” he said, his voice losing some of its teasing edge. “It’s nice.”