#Not usually something I'd write but i'm a sucker for forgotten bonding moments :P LKASDMFOQWEF

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

I had an idea that won't leave me and now I have to share it with you! Drunk Pigsy and Tang, only problem is that Tang can not hold his tongue when he's drunk and he may or may not tell Pigsy something that the scholar promptly forgets the next morning!

You.... you AND YOUR IDEAS JUST LOVE TO MAKE ME WANNA WRITE DON’T YOU LAKSDMFOIAWEMFAS 

The thing about Tang was that he was a talker. 

He liked to chat and tell stories and share his knowledge. The way he talked was noticeably captivating, so whoever his audience happened to be, they found him easy to listen to and often enjoyed his company; Pigsy was no exception to that. He’d spent a lot of days listening to him tell Mk Monkey King stories, even if he would deny it to the ends of the earth, he didn’t need Tang getting a bigger head than he already had.

What you had to watch for were the things he didn’t say; because, who would ever think the man who seemed to say whatever was on his mind would be hiding something?

Tang was pretty honest. He didn’t lie or even withhold the truth very often, if at all, but despite that there was still a lot Pigsy didn’t know about him. He didn’t know if he had any family, he didn’t know where he’d lived or what he’d done before he started hanging around the noodle shop.

Part of that was his own fault. He didn’t exactly go out of his way to ask, but honestly he didn’t really feel like he needed too. He might not have known where he used to live, or even if he had other friends than the ones at Pigsy’s shop, but he knew his favourite tea, and that he’d get cold while he was reading so he wore big fuzzy socks in the evenings when he curled up on the couch with a book.

Sure, sometimes he was curious as to where Tang would go when he’d be absent for a few days at a time, but no matter how long he was away, he always made his way back to the shop, so it didn’t matter all that much.

If Tang wanted to tell him anything about himself he would on his own time. Otherwise it wasn’t any of his business.

Unfortunately he was historically bad at dismissing his own curiosity and keeping his nose where it belonged. 

________

Pigsy didn’t really drink. He didn’t really like it, contrary to what a lot of people assumed. He’d had a few blackout drunk experiences in the past that hadn’t ended really well, and had never been fond of the inhibitions that came with alcohol since then.

But on special occasions, he’d still have some. Not enough to get smashed or anything, but a small amount, just so he relaxed a little and wasn’t so tense. He could drink a lot without getting drunk, but he knew his limits and usually stopped well before he neared reaching them.

Tang on the other hand, he discovered, was an entirely different story.

The man was almost painfully lightweight, which was something Pigsy never thought he’d actually know because he may not have known everything about him, but one thing he did know was that: Tang didn’t drink.

Except he had, apparently, and now Pigsy was heading to a bar to go get him because Tang had texted that he’d needed a ride--or at least that’s what Pigsy had been able to discern from the almost incomprehensible keysmashing. He’d gotten enough drunk texts from people back in the day for it to be not too much of a challenge. He was a little rusty in deciphering it, but still managed to put together exactly where he was and headed over to pick him up. It helped that the bar happened to be one that he walked by on his way to and from work every day, so he’d recognized the butchered spelling of the name with surprising ease.

It was closer to evening when he’d gotten the text, so he hadn’t needed to close the shop early or anything (maybe Tang had been thinking of that before texting him) and he’d left Mk to finish the cleanup, trusting him to lock up as well so that he could go take care of Tang. Mk saluting him with a determined “I won’t let you down, Pigsy!” almost made him rethink his decision, the kid was a danger magnet, but Tang needed him, so in the end he just decided to trust him, leaving him to whatever shenanigans he’d get himself into while closing the shop, and hope it was still intact by the time he arrived for work the next morning.

Who would’ve thought he’d ever pick something over the safety of his noodle shop.

(Pigsy refused to read into that decision.)

It had been a long day, and he really wasn’t ready to deal with a drunk, least of all if that drunk was Tang of all people, but he’d texted Pigsy out of anyone he knew (not that Pigsy even knew if he even did know anyone else) and he wasn’t going to leave him hanging.

The bar was fairly nice, as far as bars went. Pigsy had been in plenty of worse ones. Still, he couldn’t even begin to guess what Tang was doing inside one. He tried not to let the churning feeling of concern building in his chest get to him as he scanned the building for any sign of his friend.

It was fairly empty, which made sense since it was a weekday. Only about seven people in total in the entire building, as far as he could tell, though he could’ve been wrong, since the lighting was a little dark. There was some music playing at a decent volume; nothing too loud, which was nice. He’d be able to talk to Tang without having to project over the volume.

Eventually he spotted the familiar red scarf. Tang was sitting at the front of the bar on a stool like he always seemed to be. He was half-laying over the surface, either staring at his reflection or the liquid and bubbles in the cup. Maybe both.

Pigsy sighed and headed over.

The bartender was wiping out a cup, as he approached the counter, and Pigsy shook his head slightly when he started to set it down. The man shrugged at his declining motion and went back to his task, leaving Pigsy to slip onto the stool next to Tang.

It took him a couple seconds to realize someone had sat next to him and he turned his head slightly to look at him, blinking a few times, his glasses askew on his face. Pigsy gave a wave and his entire face lit up.

“Pigsy!” he exclaimed, sitting up, and nearly knocking the cup off the counter; Pigsy managed to catch it just in time. Tang grinned at him, completely oblivious of the near-accident. “You came!”

“Well yeah,” Pigsy grumbled, releasing the cup now that he was sure it wasn’t going to be knocked over the side of the counter. “You asked me to.”

“Very gentlemanly of you,” Tang nodded, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the force of his smile. There was a slight flush to his cheeks and a look in his eye that told Pigsy he wasn’t all there.

“How much of this have you had?” he asked, squinting suspiciously at the drink beside him.

Tang opened his mouth then paused, gaping at him for a moment before snapping it shut and looking genuinely perturbed as he seemed to consider the question very seriously. “Oh, well, I think… I got here, and I had… some?” he asked, then broke into a smile again and nodded. “I’ve had some! Some is a good amount, and it’s the amount that I’ve had.” He looked very proud of himself for knowing that.

Yeah, he was pretty drunk.

Pigsy turned to the bartender, who seemed to be watching them out of the corner of his eye. “You keep track of how many he’s had?” he asked him.

“I told you already!” Tang insisted, sounding a bit offended. “I’ve had some.”  

“That’s his second glass,” he told him, nodding towards him. “Bit of a lightweight.”

“I suppose that’s a fair term,” Tang giggled. “I’ve never done this before though, does one build up a tolerance?”

Pigsy thanked the bartender before turning back to Tang who was now just looking at him with his head tilted, cheek resting in his hand, and smiling at him, looking relaxed and happy.

“What are you doing here, Tang?” Pigsy found himself asking with a sigh, when he really shouldn’t have. He didn’t need to know, but... this was Tang, they were friends, right? So he had a right to be worried about him. Knowing the why could make it easier to figure out how to help and hopefully keep this from happening again.

Tang’s good mood dropped significantly at the question, his smile fading. He turned away and wrapped a hand around his glass, pulling it towards himself, and frowning.

Pigsy waited for a while, but he didn’t say anything, just stared down at his drink. Which was… well, worrying. Tang liked talking, for the most part. The days where he didn’t were always concerning. Pigsy had never outright asked what was going on with him when that happened though. Usually he just slid him a bowl of noodles or dropped a blanket on top of him depending where they were, and Tang would smile a little and that would be that.

He had a feeling a bowl of noodles wouldn’t be enough to help this time though.

“Alright,” Pigsy said quietly, making Tang look at him. “You don’t have to tell me. That’s okay. I’m just worried about you.”

Tang's smile came back and he let himself drape back over the counter in a position similar to the one he’d been in when Pigsy had first come over. “Cause you caaaare,” he sang, looking very happy about the fact.

Heat rose in Pigsy’s cheeks and he looked away to hide the most likely darkening colour of them. “Yeah, yeah,” he said gruffly. Then a little quieter: “Course I do.”

He managed about twelve seconds before he was glancing back at Tang.

He was still in the same position just smiling at him.

“What?” he asked, leaning away slightly.

“Nothin’” Tang drawled, rolling his head slightly and swaying back into an upright position, grabbing his drink with both hands. His cheeks seemed a little more flushed. Pigsy wondered if that was just more alcohol hitting his system.

“I thought you said you don’t drink,” Pigsy said cautiously, watching Tang warily as he swirled the contents of his cup, looking like he might drink some.

“I do now,” Tang declared, raising his cup, the movement causing his stool to wobble slightly when he leaned back.

Pigsy caught his arm, stopping him from bringing the cup back to his lips, his other hand coming up to support his back to keep him from falling backwards off the stool, and took it out of his hands before placing it aside and out of his reach.

“Hey!” Tang protested, giving Pigsy an offended look and trying to reach for his cup. “That’s mine--”

“Don’t,” Pigsy said, sharply, making him stop. “You said you decided not to drink a long time ago. Whatever’s going on with you, it’s not worth going back on that.”

Tang scowled, and looked away, shoulders hunching slightly. He leaned forward and folded his arms atop the counter before hiding his face in them.

“Too late now,” came a mumbled response.

“Only if you keep going,” Pigsy said. He noticed Tang staring at the cup and looking like he might go for it again, so he picked it up and drained the remaining contents in one go to keep it out of his reach, and also to get something in him so he could deal with the rest of what was looking to be a long evening.

It wasn’t a heavy drink and burned a little on it’s way down but he’d had a lot stronger. He would be walking home anyways, and this wouldn’t do more than drain some of the tension from his shoulders, which was sorely needed at this point.

Tang’s cry of protest accompanied his action and he set the glass back down on the counter with a  bang.

“Why’d you do that?” Tang complained, pouting and looking for all intents and purposes like a kicked puppy.

“So you didn’t get any ideas about having more,” Pigsy said gruffly.

Tang grumbled something under his breath, then looked at him again with another scowl. “I wasn’t going to.”

“Uh huh,” Pigsy said, completely unconvinced.

Tang huffed but didn’t argue further aside from a mumbled: “Meanie.”

That made him smile slightly. “You’re welcome,” Pigsy said.

“I didn’t say thank you,” Tang told him with narrowed eyes.

“You did just now,” Pigsy said back, flashing his teeth in a grin.

Tang, who ordinarily had plenty of comebacks, went red and spluttered. “I--wh--that doesn’t count! I wasn’t saying it! I was just saying it! Wait, no, I meant--” he made a frustrated sound and shot him a look. “It doesn’t count, Pigsy!”  

“Sure it doesn’t,” Pigsy said, turning away, and smirking in a way he knew would rile him up further.

True to his expectations Tang seemed to get even redder. “You’re the worst, you know that, right? The absolute worst.”

“Mm,” Pigsy agreed, studying the glass in front of him with a small smile. “I sure am.”

They fell into silence for a moment. An old song played through the speakers, one Pigsy remembered hearing from a radio on an old wooden porch that gave him more than a few splinters in his fingers and feet when he was little.

“Being drunk sucks,” Tang finally decided, breaking the silence.

Pigsy turned to him. “I could have told you that. But it’s not really all that bad unless you drink too much, which you seem to have.”

“I can’t words right,” Tang complained, throwing his hands up in the air and then flopping down over the counter.

“Must be tough,” Pigsy said, giving him a consoling pat on the back of his shoulder.

“The worst,” Tang said, his voice muffled due to the way it was pressed into the counter. Pigsy tried not to grimace at the thought of how many hands had touched the surface. He’d need to make sure he showered when they got back before he got into bed.

“I’m sad,” Tang said suddenly, without moving.

Pigsy stilled.

“Yeah?”

Tang nodded, his face still pressed against the counter.

“You wanna tell me why?”

“Dumb stuff.”

“It’s not dumb if it’s making you sad.”

“I’m dumb,” Tang said.

He didn’t like the sound of that.

“No, you’re not,” Pigsy said, frowning. He’d never heard Tang call himself dumb before, or anything of the negitive sort, even in joking. He was usually bragging about himself, not… whatever this was.  

“I am.”

He almost argued further but realized it might be a little pointless to do that with someone who was pretty drunk.

“I’m the biggest dumb,” Tang continued. He peeled himself off the counter and sat up, pressing his hands down on the counter surface. “I--I’m dumber than--than--” he made a frustrated sound when he couldn’t seem to find the right word.

“I’m dumb,” he finally settled on. His hands slid off the counter onto his lap and his shoulders slumped as he stared down at the counter with a dejected look.

Pigsy watched him for a moment, but that seemed to be the end of his outburst. He’d never been good with this kind of stuff, so he just said the first thing that came to mind.

“I don’t think you’re dumb.”

Tang looked up at him. “...really?” His voice was a lot smaller than usual, and he was looking at him like his opinion actually meant something to him.

Pigsy considered aborting, but the way Tang was looking at him convinced him to shove down his discomfort and keep talking.

He sighed, turning to him fully and looked him in the eye. “Tang, you’re the smartest person I know. You know more random facts and history than anybody. You see things a lot of other people don’t,  you understand stuff better than most scholars, and you’ve probably read more books than everyone I know combined. You’re not dumb.”

Tang stared at him for a moment, then his lip wobbled and that was all the warning Pigsy had before he was crying.  

“Oh, and you’re crying now, okay.”

An emotional drunk then. He really wished he was better at this.

Pigsy reached over hesitantly, and gave him an awkward pat on the back as Tang cried.  

“Not that kind of dumb,” he blubbered. He wiped his eyes with his sleeves, nearly knocking his glasses off as he did so. “I know I’m smart that way.”

Pigsy had to huff a laugh at that. “Glad to see your humility is still intact.”

“I’m dumb about something different.”

“And what would that be?” Pigsy asked, his hand still lingering on Tang’s shoulder.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“You’re crying, Tang.”

“That’s just ‘cause I’m drunk.”

“...well, you’re not wrong there.”

“Being drunk sucks.”

“Yeah, we established that already.”

“I’m terrible.”

Pigsy sighed. “You’re not terrible, you’re just drunk and you need some sleep.”

Tang sniffed, pausing for a moment, tears still escaping, then nodded haltingly. “Yeah. You’re right.”

“Glad you think so.”

“I’m ready to go home now.”

The warm fuzzy feeling Pigsy always got whenever he referred to his apartment as his home was interrupted when Tang tried to get up and nearly fell over. Pigsy caught him before his head could hit the side of the counter on his way down.

Tang scrabbled for a hold on his shoulders and sorta… hung off him for a moment, looking at him bewildered.

“Careful,” Pigsy chided, his hands firmly gripping his waist so he didn’t slip.

“Does the ground usually spin this much when you’re drunk?” Tang asked, blinking. “There’s two of you.”

“There’s one of me,” Pigsy corrected, heaving him up and pulling his arm up over his shoulder and wrapping his other around his waist. “And only if you’re really drunk.”

“I’m really drunk,��� Tang decided.

“Yeah,” PIgsy said. “You’re a lightweight.”

“Is that bad?”

“No, because you aren’t drinking ever again, remember?”

“Oh. Right.”

They made their way out of the bar, Pigsy waving at the bartender on their way out. He just let them leave with a wave back, so Pigsy assumed Tang had already paid for his two drinks. That or the man had somehow convinced him to open a tab on his first night, which wasn’t completely impossible. He’d have to ask him tomorrow when he wasn't so out of it.

Tang valiantly tried to walk straight, but he still ended up stumbling and tripping and leaning all of his weight on Pigsy, not that he minded. He’d rather that, than him falling over and hurting himself. Honestly he would have gone so far as to hoist him up on his back so he wouldn't need to stumble around so much, but Tang was a lot taller than he was, and his legs would probably end up scraping the ground and it would be uncomfortable for him, so walking it was. Luckily his apartment wasn’t too far.

There was a decent amount of people on the streets; there always seemed to be some activity going on in the well lit city, but the walk home was mostly uneventful, aside from Tang pausing to throw up in a nearby garbage can.

“Never drinking again,” he mumbled over and over again once they started walking.

Pigsy figured he’d learned his lesson so he didn’t comment.

“Why does anyone ever drink?” he groaned.

“Cause not everyone is as affected by it as you are.”

“It tastes terrible, and it makes my brain fuzzy.”

“Then why’d you drink it in the first place?” Pigsy asked, shooting him an annoyed look.

That got him to shut up, and he was quiet for the rest of the walk back. Pigsy tried not to feel guilty about that, but he didn’t really succeed.

By the time they finally reached the apartment, Tang was pretty much dead weight, stumbling and finally just basically hanging limply off him, held up only by his arm around his waist as he fiddled with his keys to get the door opened one-handed.

Tang giggled as he fumbled with the keys.

“What?” Pigsy asked, scowling.

“Nothing,” Tang snickered, then tried to untangle himself from Pigsy’s grasp. “I can stand.”

“I really don’t think you can,” Pigsy told him, but let him escape, hands hovering just in case he fell. He wobbled a little, but remained on his feet, so Pigsy unlocked the door as quick as he could and pushed it open before turning to him, ready to help him inside.

“Wait!” Tang exclaimed loudly--much too loudly for a deserted hallway in an apartment building in the middle of the night.

“Shhh,” Pigsy said, then: “What?”

“I have something to tell you,” Tang whispered loudly, stepping forward and staggering a little, directly into his chest with a little omph sound.

Pigsy reflexively caught him, hands around his waist as Tang’s arms draped around his neck to hold himself up.

He giggled at the position. “You look taller like this.”

“Is that what you wanted to tell me?” Pigsy asked, giving him an unamused look.

“No, no,” Tang said, shaking his head and snickering. He opened his mouth to say whatever it was, but then Pigsy raised his eyebrow and he started laughing again.

“You sure this can’t wait?” he asked. “It’s late, and I’m sure that you want to sleep.”

Tang was already shaking his head. “No, no, I have to say it now, because I’m never drinking again, so this’ll be my own chance.”

“Tang--” Pigsy started, only to have a finger press over his lips, silencing him.

“Shhhh, shhhh,” Tang said, still giggling a little. “Be very serious, this is important.”

“Right,” Pigsy huffed, resisting to roll his eyes, even as a fond smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I’m the one who needs to be--”

“I said shhhhhhh,” Tang said pressing his finger against his lips more firmly.

Pigsy did roll his eyes at that, but did as he asked and kept his mouth shut, then looked at him expectantly.

Tang looked back, a lot more seriously, without moving his finger.

They’re faces were kinda close, now that he thought about it. Pigsy really had no idea how they’d ended up in this position. Tang’s face was still flushed and his eyes still looked a little wet from when he was crying. His glasses were lopsided and smudged, and his hair a little more rumpled than usual. His breath smelled terrible, but Pigsy didn’t feel any urge to move, oddly enough.

Tang looked him right in the eyes, looking almost fully sober for a moment, then finally spoke, his voice unbearably soft.

“You have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

Pigsy swore time itself halted.

His eyes darted across Tang’s face, looking for any sign of a joke, or humour in them, but he just kept looking at him with his soft, warm, sincere look, completely… serious.

Pigsy couldn’t say anything with Tang’s finger still pressed over his mouth, keeping it shut, and even if he could’ve he wasn’t even sure if it would have been anything other than a strangled, choked sound. All he could really do was stare at him, shocked, his eyes blown open wide and a raging fiery blush exploding across his face.

Tang finally lowered his hand and placed his arm around his neck again to keep himself from slipping. “I like you,” he said, as if he hadn’t already rendered Pigsy incapable of speech with his previous confession. “A lot.”

Their faces were really close. Tang’s arms were warm around the back of his neck, practically pulling him closer.

“You’re drunk,” Pigsy croaked.

“Yeah,” Tang agreed, still looking at him like that.

Pigsy swallowed, his mouth feeling like sandpaper, his mind scrabbling for a hold, coherent thought long gone by this point. Tang was… confessing to him. Tang had just confessed to him. Tang was also extremely close right now, and he could see every blink and movement of his eyes, and he was still looking at him.

“You don’t have to like me back,” Tang said, giving him a small, sad smile that might as well have stabbed him in the chest.

“Okay,” was the only thing that came out.

Tang didn’t look surprised, his sad smile staying as he finally got his feet under him and released his grip on Pigsy, taking a step back. He stumbled a little, Pigsy’s hands instinctively jerking out to catch him, even though he didn’t fall.

It did remind him just how drunk Tang was right now though. How much of this was even… real? Or was it all just the alcohol talking, making him tell him things that weren’t true for some reason.

(He sure looked sincere.)

No. No, he--no. Not right now. Tang was not in his right mind right now, and it was not the time to be making intoxicated decisions. Pigsy wasn’t exactly completely clear-headed either, and he certainly didn’t want to do anything they’d regret come the next morning.

Tomorrow.

He could figure this all out tomorrow.

Tang had started looking at the ground instead of him at some point, arms wrapped around himself like he was cold.

Pigsy forced himself to swallow and started forward. “Come on.” Any other words stuck in his throat so he just pulled Tang into the apartment after him and closed the door.

Things were mostly silent after that. Tang seemed to be done talking, and Pigsy didn’t know what to say, so they just descended into a silence, aside from a few “careful”’s from Pigsy and a few muttered apologies from Tang whenever he stumbled.

He got him to at least brush his teeth before he guided him back to the bedroom and let him flop face-down on the mattress. A shower would have to wait till tomorrow then, just like everything else. He made a note to wash the bedding, it was overdue for a clean anyways.

Tang rolled onto his back, starfished across most of the bed and stared up at the ceiling. “Do you hate me now?”

Pigsy froze where he was taking his socks off near the dresser. He looked at Tang who was still staring up at the ceiling.

That’s when it hit him.

I’m dumb.

Not that kind of dumb. A different dumb.

I have to say it now because I’m never drinking again and this might be my only chance.

He was the reason Tang had suddenly decided to try drinking out of nowhere. That’s why he wouldn’t tell him what was wrong. His problem was Pigsy. He was worried he’d… hate him?

Pigsy straightened up. “No,” he said firmly. Because he knew that much. No matter what tomorrow brought, he wasn’t going to let Tang think he hated him, not even for a second. “I don’t hate you, Tang.”

“Oh,” Tang said quietly.

Pigsy watched him lay there for a moment, then he was rolling over onto his side and curling up a little, facing the wall, his back to Pigsy.

Pigsy threw his socks in the dirty clothes hamper and headed over to the bed.

After a bit of effort he pulled the covers out from under Tang and then pulled them up again, this time over him so he was covered; he got cold easily at night. He carefully slid Tang’s glasses off and placed them in their usual spot on the windowsill. Tang didn’t say anything when he picked up the pillow and headed for the door.

Pigsy paused as he reached for the lights, looking back at where Tang was curled up under the covers.

He hesitated before speaking softly. “Goodnight, Tang.”

He flicked the lights off and closed the door behind him before Tang could respond, and hoped things weren’t too damaged to fix the next morning.

He grabbed the spare blanket out of the closet and laid down on the couch.

It took him a long time to fall asleep.

___________

Tang woke up with the worst headache he’d ever experienced.

He groaned and rolled over, wanting nothing more than to bury his face in his pillow and go back to sleep, away from the bright, headache-increasing lights that were filtering in through the bedroom window, but despite his efforts to fall back asleep, his mind seemed to be stubbornly awake.

“I’m never drinking again,” he muttered into his pillow. “Why did I do this?”

It only took a second before he remembered.

Right. Heartbreak. But not really since he hadn’t even asked yet. Pre-heartbreak? Or perhaps he was just mourning his complete cowardice. Whatever his reasoning, he’d gone and gotten drunk and couldn’t remember half of what had happened.

He’d… texted Pigsy, right? And Pigsy had shown up and taken him home, though that part was spotty at best. Had he thrown up on the way back? Ugh, this really got worse the more that he thought about it. His mouth tasted terrible, even though he had a dim memory of brushing his teeth, and… something about asking Pigsy if he hated him?

Wow. He was really never touching another glass of alcohol. It was dumb to have even done it in the first place, even after he’d made the commitment not to. He really needed to thank Pigsy for supporting his decision, even after he’d chosen to be an idiot and break his promise to himself. He felt terrible inside and out.

Wait. Pigsy.

He sat bolt upright, which was the second biggest mistake of his life (first being drinking in the first place,) and had to breathe through a pretty terrible increase in his headache.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.”

He was seriously never doing this again.

Once the headache had receded enough for him to see and not squint until he was half-blind, he found his glasses in their usual place on the windowsill next to him, and glanced beside him where Pigsy usually slept, only to find the space empty and his pillow missing.

Tang abruptly felt a little sick. Had he said something? Oh, gods, what had he said? Pigsy was not in the bedroom, and he’d taken his pillow which meant he probably slept on the couch, which hadn’t happened since… well, since Tang was the one sleeping on the couch when he’d first started staying with Pigsy. Whatever he’d done probably hadn’t been good.

He racked his brain, trying to remember what he’d said, but everything was a blur and he was only getting bits and pieces, he could barely even remember leaving the bar, let alone getting home, which meant there was at least a fifteen minute gap in his memory, and he hated it.

“I’m never drinking again,” he repeated aloud, his voice hoarse staring at the blankets draped over his lap.

“That’s probably the eight time you’ve said that,” Pigsy’s voice came, startling him, and making him whip his head around to look at where it had come from. Which was a mistake cause wow did abrupt movement’s make this headache a whole lot worse.

Pigsy stood in the doorway, looking at him. He was wearing his pajamas: a white tank top and gym shorts, and he looked tired, but there was a small smirk on his face.  

“Well, it’s true,” Tang managed to snark back before he could stare too long.

Pigsy wordlessly entered the room and made his way over to him. It was only when he got closer that Tang noticed the glass of water in his hands. His throat and mouth were pretty dry, now that he thought about it.

Pigsy sat on the edge of the bed, his weight causing the mattress to dip a little, and handed Tang the glass. “Drink that. Then you’re gonna want some food.”

“Dunno if I’m up for eating,” Tang admitted, accepting the glass.

“Trust me, it’ll help,” Pigsy said as he chugged the glass.

“Well,” Tang said, wiping away some of the water that had ended up at the corners of his mouth. “This is my first, and last time doing this, so I’ll have to take your word for it.”

Pigsy hummed, seeming distracted. He looked tired, and Tang wondered if he’d had trouble sleeping on the couch. Which quickly reminded him that there was a reason Pigsy had apparently slept on the couch, a reason he didn’t know because he’d been an idiot and gotten drunk, which apparently didn’t take all that much for him.

He tapped the half empty glass as he held it, looking down at the contents. “Did I… say anything...last night?” he finally managed to ask haltingly.

When he glanced up, Pigsy was looking at him, expression unreadable. He didn’t say anything, which only made Tang’s nervousness and worry increase.

“I don’t,  uh…” he bit his lip. “...exactly remember all that much.”

Pigsy was quiet for a moment. “What do you remember?”

Not a great sign. If he hadn’t said anything, Pigsy just would have told him that and been done with it. Him asking was concerning.

“Not much,” Tang confessed, going back to tapping the glass in his hands, trying to calm down his anxiety with the movement. “I remember you stealing my drink--thanks for that, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Tang swallowed before continuing. “And I remember leaving? A little? Did I throw up on the sidewalk?”

“In a garbage can.”

Tang groaned, pulling his knees to his chest and letting his forehead drop to rest against his knees. “I am so sorry.”

“It happens,” Pigsy said, with a shrug, still looking preoccupied.

He didn’t say anything and Tang watched him for a moment.

“Did I do anything weird?” he finally gathered the courage to ask, not really sure if he wanted to know the answer.

Pigsy looked back at him. “Why do you assume you did something weird?”

“...because you slept on the couch,” Tang said, looking back down at the glass.

Pigsy didn’t respond to that, so he continued.

“Whatever it was, I’m sorry. I probably didn’t mean it. I don’t know what exactly happens when you're drunk. It usually makes you say things you normally wouldn’t,” he looked up at Pigsy. “Right?”

Pigsy was watching him, very still. Then he nodded, once, slowly.

“Still friends?” Tang asked, almost nervously, fearing the answer.

Pigsy’s eyes had drifted away slightly but snapped back to look at him. He studied him for a moment, making Tang more nervous with every second that passed, until he seemed to come to a decision and finally nodded. “Yeah.”

Tang couldn’t quite stop the rushing exhale of relief that crashed into him, his shoulders sagging slightly, and his death grip on the glass he hadn’t realized he’d had relaxed. “Oh, good.” He let out a big breath and then offered Pigsy a smile. “Whatever it was, I’m really sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Pigsy said, standing up. “It wasn’t anything important anyways, don’t worry about it.”

Not important. He wanted to feel relieved at that, but it didn’t match with the fact that Pigsy had slept on the couch.

“Finish that,” Pigsy instructed him, rooting through the drawers and pulling out some fresh clothing. “Make sure you take a shower, and there’s breakfast in the kitchen.”

“Okay,” Tang said.

“I’ve gotta get to work,” Pigsy said. “You think you’ll be okay?”

“It’s just a hangover,” Tang said, waving his concern aside. “I’ll be fine.”

Pigsy nodded, then hesitated for a moment before nodding again and then heading out of the room. “You can stay here until you’re feeling better. See you later, Tang.”

“Bye, Pigsy,” Tang called, as he shut the door. His own volume made him wince. He hadn’t realized how quiet Pigsy was being. He must’ve known noise made the headache worse. The thought that he was trying to keep it down just so Tang didn’t feel so awful made him smile a little.

He drained the rest of the water and slowly got up to find a change of clothes and take a shower.

Whatever he’d said or done, it hadn’t ruined their friendship, so maybe it really wasn’t anything important. He couldn’t help but feel a mixture of emotions though. On one hand, he was relieved he hadn’t managed to confess like he’d meant to, but on the other hand he hated that he’d chickened out, yet again. Even alcohol apparently couldn’t give him what he needed to say it.

Another day, another aborted confession, it would seem.

Who was he kidding? He had it good, he shouldn’t do anything that could mess that up--mess up the relationship he had. He could keep hating on himself for being a coward because so long as he had Pigsy that didn’t matter.

At least his stunt hadn’t driven him off.

Just another reason he loved the grump.

He groaned, pausing his search for fresh clothes to bury his face in a shirt.

He was a disaster.

~•`~ 

You bet Mk got up to all kinds of shenanigans and the noodle-shop was probably attacked or something immediately after Pigsy was gone lol 

Also, look like this might turn into something longer XD Feel free to scream at me; I’m screaming at myself lskdmfaowef 

WINTER I BLAME YOU FOR THIS