Collins sighed as he was practically dragged down the busy New York streets by his boyfriend, Angel. The two were on their way to a club, Angel's idea, of course, Collins agreeing only because of the fact he could get drunk there. He didn't go to many clubs, mostly bars, but Angel was in a dancing mood.

The two entered with little trouble, sitting at the bar for a little as each had a couple of drinks. Angel got up to go dance when a particular song came on, dragging Collins into the mass of people with a melting pout.

The couple danced, interlocking fingers and laughing as they moved along with the beat. Angel giggled at Collins' strange way of dancing, nose crinkling in amusement. "You dance almost as bad as Mark when you're drunk."

The professor gave Angel a glance of pure offense, turning away. "I do not, Ang. My dance moves are superb. Mark always looks like he's got two left feet and a bucket of fuckin' worms stuffed in his boxers when he dances." Collins protested, and Angel just laughed, his voice chiming through the loudness of the club.

"If you say so, sugar. Just stop pouting so we can dance some more, mmkay?" His arms looped around Collins' neck, a flirty smile playing on his lips as he once more moved with the song playing. The anarchist sighed and gave a dopey smile, obliging to Angel's request and dancing along with his boyfriend.

After another few minutes of dancing, Collins headed back to the bar for another drink- he'd done enough dancing for the night. The couple parted, Angel slipping the older man a kiss on the cheek before slipping back into the group of people.

He giggled as he got lost in the crowd, moving along with the beat of the song, the alcohol making his movements loose and carefree. A man came up behind him, grabbing him by the waist and dancing on the drummer. Angel flashed a flirtatious grin, the alcohol bringing out the Maureen-ish side of him, and gave his ass a little shake.

Angel liked to twerk when he got drunk, and not just the tiny little booty wiggle dance, Angel twerked. He wouldn't think about who he was twerking on, just smile and laugh and dance along with the song.

Well, Angel danced, the mass of people surging around him as he moved, passing from dance partner to dance partner. He wasn't paying much attention to what was going on around him and was just having a good time, not even remembering half of the guys who danced with him.

Collins glanced over from his drinking, thoroughly drunk, and saw Angel. He also saw the man pressed up behind him, hands trailing on his waist as the two moved together.

The anarchist got up from his seat, making his way through the crowd to the two men. "Hey, get your fucking hands off my boyfriend!" He growled, grabbing Angel and pulling him closer possessively.

The short man glared up at Collins, not quite weighing his options very well before speaking. "Well, you're boyfriend didn't seem to have a problem with my fucking hands on him," He looked at Angel, "Did you, sweetheart?"

Collins scowled at him, "Well, I don't give a fuck, because he's my boyfriend and you shouldn't have had your hands on him in the first place."

Angel, his drunk mind telling him now was a good time to intervene, patted Collins on the cheek. "S'alright, honey, I was just dancing with him. You know I love you," He slurred, hiccuping.

The other man figured arguing would get him no where, ducking off to find another person to grind on. Collins looked at Angel, sighing and grumbling under his breath.

"C'mon, Ang. I don' wanna be here anymore." He walked out of the loud club, Angel still tucked protectively under his arm. The younger man wrapped his arms around Collins, leaning up to kiss his neck.

"M'sorry, Tommy. I was just dancing, and he came and started dancin' with me. I wasn't really paying any 'tention." He murmured between sloppy kisses.

Collins sighed, stumbling a little in his stride. It was late, and he was trying to remember which way the couple's apartment was in and Angel's lips upon his neck were not helping at all.

"It's alright, baby. I'm just.. uh, trying to find our apartment and.. Could you stop that?" He stammered, pulling away from Angel. He pouted and crossed his arms, rolling his eyes at Collins.

"I know where our apartment is." He said flippantly, suddenly offended by being brushed off. The drummer started walking again, his strides brisk as he could manage, being that drunk.

Collins did his best to keep up with Angel, stumbling every couple of minutes. The two finally found their apartment building and Collins held the door open for his boyfriend and followed him up the stairs and inside their small apartment.

Angel sat on the couch while Collins kicked off his shoes, leaving them in the middle of the front hall. He shuffled to the couch, plopping down next to his boyfriend and cuddling up into him.

The younger man frowned, turning his face away from Collins'. He was still slightly hurt (Okay, maybe he wasn't really and was just playing it up.) by the denial of neck kisses and wasn't quite ready to forgive his boyfriend.

Collins huffed, "Ang, what's wrong? Why are you mad?" He questioned, eyes wide. Angel peeked to glance at him, seeing his too adorable confused expression.

He didn't turn to face him, though, deciding to play this out just a little bit longer. "Hmpf, nothing's wrong, honey."

The fact was that Collins was far too drunk to figure out that Angel actually was just playing him, "Then why 're you turned 'way from me? I wanna cuddle you, Ang." He mumbled, snuggling in closer.

The drummer sighed, figuring there was no point, Collins was too cuddly when he was drunk to try and punish him for being denied earlier. He didn't really want to cuddle, though. So Angel turned back around to face Collins, attaching their lips together.

The two kissed for a moment, lips colliding sloppily thanks to the alcohol. Angel pulled away, trailing down the anarchist's jaw and back to his neck, right where he had been attempting to kiss not too long ago. Collins hummed deep in his throat, enjoying the feel of Angel's lips upon his skin.

Angel stood from the couch, flashing Collins a teasing grin as he sauntered toward the two's shared bedroom. He followed his boyfriend toward to room, not having wanted the kisses to stop. Angel stood in the doorway, beckoning Collins forward with a innocent smile.

The philosopher took a few steps forward, just about to step into the room when the door shut in his face, hearing Angel's snickering coming from behind the door.

So he was upset. Collins still wasn't sure why, his intoxicated mind not remembering the small detail of telling Angel to quit kissing his neck while he tried to find his way to the apartment.

"Angel? I thought you weren't upset?"

Angel could hear the confusion in his voice, but his stubbornness was amplified by the alcohol and he was still oh so slightly hurt from before. "Well, you should have though of that before you turned me down!"

The next morning neither of them could remember why Collins had slept on the couch.