A/N: This drabble takes place in the Nobles AU from chapter 13.
IMPORTANT: I will stop taking prompts after this Sunday, September 13. So if you have any prompts, please have them in before the end of that day!
"Gimme another—"
"No, you're done," Mishima swiftly cut off Akira, who swayed dangerously when he turned to face the other with a pout. Grimacing against the fresh waft of alcoholic breath, the shorter male clasped a hand on his shoulder to balance him.
"But I haveta win." Akira pointed at a table on the other side of the tavern—or rather, he managed to point several feet to the right of that table, but Mishima understood well enough. That table was where his supposed opponent, an older man with a gecko tattoo that sent him a look of "challenge," had sat.
That man had also left an hour ago, and Akira just now appeared to register that, if the confused squinting was any indication.
Mishima sighed and glanced at the two women sitting across from them. Humming an off-beat melody, Haru sat surprisingly upright. A deep flush colored her cheeks and her eyes stayed shut, as if she was enamored by her makeshift tune and how her hand, interlocked with Makoto's, rested upon the table. Makoto's free arm hid her face; she had laid her head down on the table several minutes ago and released an occasional sleepy snuffle.
Being the only sober one of the group was both amusing and tiring, he had discovered. But somebody needed to stay alert, and he had drawn the short straw that night.
Arms clumsily wrapped around Mishima's middle. At first he accepted the contact with both recognition and exasperated fondness. But then Akira attempted to swing a leg onto his lap, as if wanting to wrap his entire body around the other's, but instead nearly pitched them both over. Only Mishima's quick grab on the heavy table saved them.
"Sorry…Yuuuuki," Akira slurred, squishing his cheek against the shorter male's shoulder and continuing to adhere to his side.
"Yeah yeah," he muttered affectionately before pressing a kiss into curly locks.