"So how much have you had this time?"
The barely animate figure on the floor merely shifted, and let out a groan that Five would later compare to the mating call of a humpback whale in response.
"Eeeeeuuuuugghhhhhhhhh..."
Five sighed in resignation as he bent down to throw his friends limp arms over his shoulders, hoping Nine could keep from throwing up for just a while longer as he dragged him slowly towards the parking lot. This certainly wasn't the first time Five had ended up saving his friend the shame of passing out in the middle of a party, although he sure as hell hoped it would be the last. However he wasn't so naïve as to believe for a second that his wish would come true.
He was damp with perspiration by the time he made it to the red 1956 Chevy Bel Air that was his.. or rather his fathers.. pride and joy. Nine had become increasingly quieter on the journey there, and while Five was glad to have his poor eardrums spared the indecency of having to listen to his friends 'interesting' interpretation of 'sweet child of mine' one more time, it was a cause for concern. Afterall this was his dads car. This was his dads car, and his dad didn't exactly know that Five had 'borrowed' it for the night.
Definitely one of those catch 22 situations.
With a hard gleam in his one remaining hazel eye, Five dumped his reeling piggyback rider on the sidewalk and kneeled to be on a level with him. Nine did look a bit too green around the gills, but perhaps if Five made it absolutely clear that this was a no vomiting zone, he would hold out to the bitter end to honour the friendship they shared. Yeah right. But stranger things had happened. It was worth a shot at least.
"Hey shitface! Listen to me now."
Nine looked in his general direction and grinned lopsidedly. Good enough.
"I want you to pretend you are in a world where alcohol does not exist okay? Anywhere, like ever. And in that world you are not stinking drunk and on the verge of puking in your best friends vintage car."
The drunkard opposite seemed mighty interested in the zipper on his hoodie all of a sudden, and giggled at the little zippy sound it made when he pulled it up and down really quickly. Five sighed, rolled his eye, and face palmed. He was fighting a losing battle here and the best thing to do would be to get his friend home as fast as possible and hope for the best.
"Fuck it I'd get more out of talking to a baboon. Get in the car and try not to fall over."
He barely had time to get behind the wheel when the sound of breaking glass caused him to jump so hard he did a number of very stupid things in quick sucession. First he banged his head on the roof, which hurt a lot and would definitely leave a lump. Then as a direct result of the blinding pain he tried to lift his arms to shield his head from further damage, hitting the steering rack hard on the way up and causing the air bag to inflate right in his face. This also hurt a lot. In his rather groggy and clouded wisdom the most appropriate response to this 'attack' on his person was obviously to scream and panic. So scream and panic he did! He flailed with all he had to get free of the horrible inflatable thing suffocating him slowly, and somehow managed to fight his way clear and climb into the backseat. There he was faced with an intruder who had broken in from the passenger window and was currently lying half in and half out the car. He punched the intruder before his brain could finally catch up and let him realise that the poor sod he'd just punched was actually Nine, who in his infinite drunken wisdom had tried to climb through the window to get in the car. Because obviously that's how you got in a car.
Five hadn't cried since the most important question in his life had been whether a Velociraptor or a Triceratops would win in a fight to the death. But he sure cried then.