Sorry for the delay. I'm back at work full time and it's been crazy hectic.

Thanks again to everyone who reviews and continuously reviews 3

Musa watched people's faces anxiously as the tenth song – out of nineteen – on the album played. So far, it seemed like the reactions were positive, but sometimes it was hard to tell. She'd once had a reviewer seem to genuinely enjoy the album – her third, specifically – and then completely trashed the album in the review. It had still sold incredibly well – and it wasn't as if Musa hadn't developed a thick skin when it came to the critics – but it still sucked to know the reviewer had been putting on a face the whole party.

She was pretty certain she'd never been this nervous before and it made little sense to her. She'd written her songs her entire career, so having people listen to and judge her most personal thoughts was nothing new. It was just that this was the first time that they were her words and everything she wanted them to be: no modifications, no imposed pop beats, no tweaking to make them easy top 40 material. They were raw, unapologetically her in all of her fucked up glory.

What if they hated it?

What if all she was good for was upbeat top 40?

What if she ruined everything she had worked so hard to build?

Her heart seemed to be beating twice as fast as it should – she could hear it in her ears – and her stomach felt like she'd ridden a roller coaster fifty times in a row. In fact, she'd felt like throwing up all day. The feeling had only intensified when the first guests – other than her friends – arrived. Tecna, who had already heard the album in its entirety, tried to reassure her that it would be a success. Musa appreciated her support, but it did nothing to soothe her nerves.

Beside her, Stella bobbed her head along happily to one of the more upbeat songs on the album. She tapped her hand to the beat, her sparkly gold bracelet jangling along. At least Musa could count on Stella for an honest reaction; the blonde was notoriously bad at keeping her opinions to herself and very straightforward. It was a quality that Musa both loved and hated, along with probably everyone else that knew her, but at least it meant she always knew where she stood with Stella.

Musa adjusted herself on the couch, fiddling with the black pants she wore. Going with the theme of her, she'd opted not to let Stella dress her like the blonde usually would for one of these parties – and every other event she'd ever gone to. She chose baggy black pants, a long-sleeved fishnet shirt with a black bralette with red stitching underneath, sneakers, space buns and minimal make up.

Her.

Unapologetically her.

Stella had hated it, but Riven (and the other girls) had complimented her and that made her much happier than Stella's approval would have. She looked good, that was what he'd said. It wasn't much but it had been enough to make her feel like her entire body was on fire. And then he'd smiled when she thanked him, and she was pretty sure her body had spontaneously combusted and the smile she'd returned had been larger than a sane person's smile should be.

Across from her, seated cross-legged on the floor, Bloom swayed softly as the next song – a ballad that Musa had written for her fourth album that her previous label had hated – started. Musa had taken the older songs and reworked them; her writing had improved dramatically since she'd written some of them. Some had been reworked lyrically, some hadn't, but all of them had been reworked to make the album coherent. Her goal was that every song sound like a continuation of the previous one. If the next song was a ballad, the previous song would slow towards the end, finishing on the note that would start the following song; if the next song was upbeat, it would start on a slow note and pick up – whether it picked up slowly of quickly depended on the song. If the next song had more of a rock sound, the precious song would start to incorporate those sounds through the final chorus or verse. The album culminated in a song that had slow, almost rough sounding verses but a grand, dramatic orchestral chorus. She thought it was a masterpiece; possibly the best thing she'd ever make. Hopefully others would too.

Her eyes glossed over the crowd as the final song started. By the piano in the living room, a group of people were nodding along to the music. Her production team was vibing to the song on the floor beside them, enjoying the album they'd worked so hard to put together. Faragonda and Saladin sat on two seats by the terrace door alongside a few critics, including the bitch that had trashed her third album. Behind them, the agent watching that door seemed to be enjoying the music too. When the chorus started, his eyes went wide, and he became visibly enrapt in the song. Finally, her eyes traveled to the person on her immediate right: Riven. His face remained relatively neutral, but she thought she could see him tapping his fingers on his outer thigh.

"So... what'd you think?" Musa asked, as the final song came to an end.

"Dahling, you know we think everything you create is genius" Stella replied immediately. It was fair, Stella had always been one of her biggest supporters, though Musa wouldn't go as far as to say Stella thought everything the singer wrote was genius. During the writing period of her second album, Musa had had massive writers block and everything she wrote was garbage. While Aisha and Tecna tried to be constructive in their criticisms and find positive things to say, Stella would flat out tell her what was shit, sometimes going as far as to tell Musa every little detail she'd hated. It had, surprisingly, been very helpful. Musa had no idea why or how, but Stella's bluntness had made her see everything she was doing wrong. Once she knew that, she could avoid them.

"I wouldn't go that far" Aisha chuckled. "Most of what you write is genius. This was brilliant."

The rest of the group agreed vehemently that they'd loved it, which came as no surprise to Musa. They'd all seemed to genuinely enjoy the album through the whole play. The only person that remained silent was Riven. He'd enjoyed at least one or two songs; she was sure of it. Would it be so hard for him to admit that maybe she wasn't a total trash overproduced popstar?

Musa thanked them and excused herself from the group, making her way over to the group by the piano. Riven stood with her and followed silently. She wasn't sure how she felt about his orders to be by her side all night. On the one hand, he was constantly around her and that was good. On the other, it would be harder to sneak glances at him – something she'd taken to doing over the last few days – if his attention was constantly on her. Not that she would complain about having his full attention. The rumours of their supposed affair had faded, eclipsed by news of a new romance, a breakup and a pregnancy, so she didn't have to worry much about his being glued to her side fueling those. And thankfully Jared hadn't tried anything else since.

The consensus amongst the people she spoke to was that the album was great. Musa obviously thought so too but hearing it from her peers made her belief more concrete. She didn't speak to any critics; they usually didn't stick around very long anyways. Sometimes they'd talk to a few guests and sometimes they'd leave almost immediately, it varied from album to album. Regardless of what they did, she didn't like speaking to them, so she didn't.

"Dare I ask what you thought?" Musa asked once she and Riven were alone – or as alone as they could be when there were close to one hundred people crammed into her apartment. She thanked the bartender for her drink and took a seat at the dining room table which, for some reason, no one had made use of. Riven took the seat beside her, turning the chair to look at her. She couldn't read his expression and it annoyed her, but she had no doubt he'd tell her the honest truth. He always did.

"Surprisingly, I didn't hate it."

"Didn't hate it?" Musa repeated. It was an improvement over absolute garbage, which is what she assumed he thought of her previous albums. It was not the reaction she wanted, but she'd take it. Not everyone would love everything she made – and that was fine – but he'd been so adamant about hating everything else she'd done that it was a goal to make him like at least one of her songs.

"Yeah. Some of it wasn't my taste, but there were a few that I enjoyed. The before last one in particular."

"Really?" Musa nearly squealed before regaining her composure. As grand and beautiful as the last song was, the penultimate song had been her favourite of the album and to know he liked it too made her incredibly happy. She was also very surprised that winning him over, even just a bit, had been such an easy success. "I'm surprised you were willing to admit that."

"It was painful" he chuckled, clutching at his chest and feigning pain. Musa laughed along with him, giving him a light tap on the forearm for his stupidities. The brief contact warmed her body, sending a pleasant tingling sensation into her fingertips and coursing through her veins. It was getting harder and harder to ignore her feelings for him. Ever since the incident in the living room the other night, every look, every touch had made her feel like her body was on fire. It could be as innocent as tapping her shoulder to ask her a question and Musa would still find herself daydreaming about the feeling of his fingers on her.

And then there was the other news...

He'd broken up with Darcy.

She'd almost broken into a happy dance when he told her, but she'd managed to control herself. He hadn't seemed upset by it at all; in the last three days he'd been exactly the same as he'd always been. Part of her wondered if she'd had something to do with it, but that was dumb. Besides telling him about Darcy's threat, Musa couldn't think of any reason she would be. She wasn't even sure she wanted to be. Sure, her stomach fluttered when she considered that Riven had broken up with Darcy because her feelings were reciprocated, but that was just stupid. She'd barely won him over as a friend – were they friends? – there was no way he saw her as a love interest. But then she thought about the way he'd comforted her after the letter and… well, maybe. There was no way he was just doing his job then. She was pretty sure his job was to make sure she was alive, not alive and sane.

His laughter died down, but the smile on his face didn't fade. How often was she allowed to think about how beautiful he was? She fixed her eyes on the dining room door, watching the crowd talking, to avoid staring at him like she'd wanted to do. Musa felt his eyes graze over her before he cleared his throat and spoke. "Seems like everyone liked it."

"Yeah" she nodded rigidly. People lied - that was something she'd learned after her second listening party - people lied, especially when the alternative was criticizing you to your face.

"I don't think you need to be nervous. It's a good album, and if I think that then your fans will love it." He was right. She had a die-hard group of fans; they would support her even if the record was hot garbage. She was about to answer, thank him for trying to reassure her, when Faragonda and Saladin spotted them and made their way over. The old woman complimented her on a job well done, saying she was sure it would be a smash, then announced that all the critics had left and that she would also be taking her leave. Beside her, Saladin checked with Riven that everything was under control, which he confirmed, so the old man decided to accompany Faragonda out.

Riven was pretty sure he'd never seen an apartment this full before. People spilled out of every door, onto the terrace, littered every surface of the first floor. He was pretty sure he couldn't see the floor anymore. The music room had been locked and the second floor had been blocked off by a guard to stop people from making use of the beds or the hot tub or pool or bean bag chair, desk or literally anywhere else people could have sex. He longed for the peace it promised, but his orders were to stay by Musa's side all night, so that's where he was.

The apartment was filled with A-list stars that Musa had greeted happily, chatted with for a few minutes then mostly ignored. They hadn't stopped moving since people started arriving three hours earlier besides for the period where they were listening to the album. Riven had recognised maybe half of the guests, Musa's team included in that half. Musa had chuckled when she realised he didn't know who a fair amount of the guests were and had started to tell him who was who when they approached. Somehow, along the way that turned into a game of Musa making him guess if the person – when he didn't know them – was an actor or singer or if they were someone else. Of the upwards of fifty he'd had to guess, he'd gotten a measly three right.

The evening, much like Stella had described it, started off with cocktails and hors d'oeuvres. It had been quiet and calm. Guests had slowly arrived, were ID'd and handed their NDAs to Musa's lawyer, Griselda, a terrifying woman with eyes that stared right into your soul and a permanent scowl. No unexpected guests had shown up and no one had presented any issues, which made him optimistic that the rest of the evening would go off without a hitch.

While Musa talked to one of the many celebrities he didn't recognize after the listening period, Riven surveyed the party. Aisha and Nabu were on the couch that was visible from the living room's patio door, cozied up together. Stella and Brandon were slow dancing on the terrace's makeshift dancefloor not too far from Bloom and Sky. Tecna was on the couch beside them destroying Timmy and the Bieber kid – not such a kid anymore – at some racing game. Helia appeared to be debating something animatedly with the most pretentious looking person at the party; some guy that undoubtedly took the whole I'm an artist thing obnoxiously far.

Once he'd contented himself with the knowledge that everything seemed to be going well, Riven seated himself on the arm of the couch. His attention flipped between watching Tecna crush her opponents – Musa had been right about her and Timmy being a great match; the boy was obviously enamoured with her – and listening to Musa and, what had Musa said the girl's name was? Ashley? Talk about the process behind the album and Ashley's own album that came out a few months ago.

"- chronological" Musa was explaining. "I wanted it to be this sort of story. The first song was the oldest of the ones I chose, while the last one is the newest. In the same way that the music is this long progression, I wanted the lyrics to be too. Only instead of being one single theme, it's more my story and my progression as a person and an artist. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah, it does" the girl – Ashley? – reassured Musa with a laugh.

"Oh good. I'm always shit at explaining my concepts." Riven listened as Musa went on the tell the girl how she'd made the mistake of watching a few Hot Ones interviews before her own, including Ashley's and had psyched herself out. It seemed ridiculous to him that Musa thought she had fumbled over her answers to some of the questions because he thought she'd been great. They'd come out of the interview with Riven having a newfound respect for her as an artist – something that, prior to that interview, he never thought he'd have. Respect for her as a person, yeah, that had come with knowing her. Respect for her as a worker, absolutely, it was obvious that she was driven and had a great work ethic. But as an artist, that came as a shock to him. Did she really not know how brilliant and well-spoken she was?

The conversation drifted away from their respective albums and Riven found himself absentmindedly listening to them talk about some mutual contact of theirs named Austin. Musa didn't like him, whoever he was. It wasn't obvious and, if it weren't for the fact that he'd gotten to know her body language really well over the last almost two months, he would never have known. Her shoulders tensed, her fist – hidden by her crossed arms – clenched very briefly, and her jaw tightened. Riven's curiosity was piqued; who was Austin and why did Musa hate him so much?

Ashley – Riven still wasn't sure that was her name – excused herself and Musa turned to him, motioning that she was heading out of the room. She whirled around and marched out of the living room, peaking over her shoulder to make sure he was behind her. Riven stood and followed her out, waiting until she'd gotten to the bar and ordered her drink to ask: "Who's Austin?"

Musa thanked the bartender, pretending that her jaw hadn't clenched, and eyes hadn't widened when he'd asked. "Post Malone" she answered plainly, downing her glass far too quickly for someone that was casual.

"Don't like him?"

"'Bout as much as I liked you when we first met" she grumbled, motioning to the bartender for a refill on her drink. The young woman, blonder than humanly possible and sweeter than Flora – if that was possible – topped up Musa's glass of whiskey. The singer gripped the glass and began to down it. Was she trying to get drunk as fast as possible? "Jesus, fucking slow down, would ya?" Riven reached for her arm, but she was already lowering her hand by the time he grabbed her.

"Who are you, my mother?" Musa snapped, drawing her arm back and away.

"I'm just trying to make sure you don't pass out drunk before the party ends. Your friends are all busy with their boyfriends, so I'm gonna be the one having to take care of you."

Musa froze for a moment before responding. "You'd take care of me?" She asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes in an overtly flirtatious manner that made it clear she was teasing.

"My job is to make sure you're alive" Riven reminded her. She rolled her eyes at him, that heart-stopping smile of hers dancing on her lips in a playful scoff.

"Pretty sure that's only about the stalker, not alcohol poisoning." Musa wouldn't complain if he wanted to protect her from anything, though. If there was a chance of being near him, she was okay with anything. As long as whatever it was didn't put her in death's direct path. For example, she would never jump off the side of a building even if Riven was Spider Man and could swing down to catch and save her.

"Yeah, but how bad would I look if I let you die of alcohol poisoning?"

"You could never look bad" she muttered under her breath before her brain could catch up to her mouth. Jesus fucking Christ. Why the fuck did she say that? Musa brought the glass to her lips and took a giant gulp, praying that he couldn't see how much she was blushing – blushing! It had been years since she'd blushed. What the fuck was happening to her?

"Fuck's sake. It's a glass not a shot, Muse" Riven grumbled, completely bypassing her comment. Thankful for the out, Musa decided to pretend her slip up had never happened and mimicked him in her most mocking Riven expression. "Funny" he deadpanned.

"I am funny, thank you." She pretended to flip her hair over her shoulder. He laughed and her nerves settled fully. Maybe he hadn't heard her? Was the universe that nice to her?

"Sometimes."

"Sometimes?" Musa feigned offense, bringing her hand up to her chest in scandal. "How rude."

"I'm an asshole, remember?"

"You really are" she laughed. Riven's laugh mingled with hers and she couldn't help but think how nice it sounded. He leaned against the bar, eyes never leaving hers, smile never leaving his face. How did, even in his full suit, as per his typical work requirement, he still manage to make everything look so cool? Musa hated him for being so fucking incredible. She wanted to go somewhere else, talk to someone else, but he pulled her in too much; she couldn't leave. Didn't want to leave. She liked how she felt around him even if the crush did make things a little uncomfortable.

It came as no surprise to him when Musa announced that she needed to pee; she had just gotten her fourth drink since the critics had left. It was a miracle she hadn't needed to pee until then. It was even more of a miracle that she was still no more than tipsy considering she was a mere 5'2 and, at most, 110 lbs.

After having done a sweep of the bathroom, Riven cleared the way for Musa to go in, closing the door behind him as he exited. Waiting for people to finish in the bathroom was probably his least favourite part of his job. The whole thing could be tedious, but when they were in the bathroom, the only thing for him to do was stand and wait for them to finish. Private washrooms weren't too bad because he could stand outside and look like he was waiting around for someone – which he was – but public washrooms were a pain. Not only did they usually have a smell – not port-a-potty bad, but still not pleasant – but the counters were always wet, stopping him from leaning against them as he waited. Then there was the fact that he got to be the weirdo standing around in a public washroom. On more than one occasion, guys had given him odd looks, wondering if Riven was some sort of pervert, as they whipped their dicks out to pee.

That's what he got for choosing a bodyguard job. He had to wait out the dullest moments of other people's lives all in the name of keeping them safe. Though, really, until Musa, none of the people he'd guarded had been in any actual danger which made his job feel like a waste of time sometimes. In all honesty, he would've become a cop, but he didn't trust cops and he had no intention of becoming a pig. And he'd rather jump off the Sears Tower, or whatever the fuck it was called now, than join the military. He wasn't risking his life for a country that didn't give a shit about its citizens, and even less about its soldiers.

Riven tapped his fingers to the music. It was some bubblegum crap that Flora would love, but it wasn't half bad. It was only when the music slowed, and the voice became stronger that he realised it was one of Musa's songs. Riven forced himself to stop tapping. He refused to give her the satisfaction of knowing he'd been enjoying more of her songs – especially one of her older ones that he'd claimed was garbage. She would get such satisfaction out of that; never let it go. She'd remind him every opportunity she got with that same adorable victorious grin she had – the one she'd given him when he told her that he'd enjoyed most of her album. Then again, would it be so bad if she smiled more? He liked her smile. It made the world seem brighter. And would it be so bad if he was the one to make her smile? Even if it was at his expense, he liked knowing she had a reason to. And, yeah, maybe he liked being the reason too.

"Enjoying the party?" Helia asked, approaching Riven with a beer in hand. Riven liked Helia so far. The man was clearly talented – must run in the family – but he wasn't obnoxious about it. He also seemed very calm and kind, two things that Riven thought was perfect for a sweet, quiet girl like Flora.

"Well, considering I'm spending the party watching Musa, it's not much of a party. I can't even have a beer."

"Yeah…" Helia gave him a look that Riven couldn't quite decipher; it was the same look Flora gave him whenever she wanted to say something but didn't know how to bring it up. God, those two really were perfect for each other. "What? Riven demanded gruffly.

"Oh, nothing. It's just… well, Flora had mentioned something to me while we were at the airport…" Oh fuck off. What was Flora telling Helia? Was Riven going to need to remind her how much he hated gossips. "I thought she was imagining things then, but now I'm not so sure."

Riven swore that if Flora went around trying to convince people to get on the he and Musa should get together because they were clearly into each other train, he was going to snap. Hell, he might start thinking she'd been the one to spread the rumours instead of Musa's dumbass ex-boyfriend. "Uh huh" Riven mumbled blankly.

"Barring the fact that you've been beside her all night because you have to, you've also been actually watching her all night." Jesus, Flora had even convinced Helia that Riven looking at Musa had some deeper hidden meaning. He just liked looking at her, that was all. "More than one normally looks at someone."

"Uh huh, right."

"I'm just saying. You've also been really chummy."

"Yeah, we're friends." Were they? He hoped so. At this point, he wasn't sure he could remember what life was like before Musa was around, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. He liked having her around; liked how he felt around her. "If we're stuck together, we might as well talk to each other."

"Yeah o-"Behind him, the bathroom door clicked. Helia, in perhaps the smoothest switch from private conversation to public conversation Riven had ever seen, transitioned effortlessly into talking about how he was planning on visiting Flora in Chicago over Christmas – and sooner if possible.

"Oh, that's nice" Musa commented sweetly as she stopped beside Riven and swayed a little in place. Riven rested his hand on her lower back to steady her, asking if she was okay. His eyes met Musa's as she nodded, claiming that she was fine. Right, fine. This wouldn't end well. Out of the corner of his eye, Riven caught Helia's knowing look. He shot the artist a glare, which Helia shrugged off.

Musa scooted onto the couch on the terrace as Riven took a seat beside her. It turned out that she could get used to this wholehim needing to be beside her constantly thing. If only she could actually rest her head on his shoulders. She bet he had great shoulders that would be perfect for laying her head on. Oh, and he'd be warm too, she was sure of it.

"These things are fucking incredible" Aisha commented, popping one of the passed hors d'oeuvres into her mouth as she took a seat beside Musa.

"Ooh are those the cheese ones?" Bloom asked from her spot on the opposite sofa. "I love those. I think I've had like three."

"You've had seven" Sky informed her with a chuckle. Bloom shushed him, teasing him that he was making her look like a pig. The conversation around her turned to the caterer that Musa had chosen for the party, which the singer admitted Stella had recommended. When Stella joined, she took over the conversation and started ranting about how one of the girls inside – some B-list actress – had said Stella was overdressed. "As if that's even possible?"

"Ball gown in a grocery store?" Bloom argued.

"Life is an occasion and everyone else is underdressed."

Musa lost interest, as she did every other time, when Stella started talking about clothes. Her eyes wandered through the crowd – the full dance floor, the servers slipping through crowds, the guards watching with sharp eyes – settling on Riven beside her. He stared out into the crowd with his brows furrowed and lips tight. Musa's eyes followed his gaze, but she didn't see anything of particular interest. She turned her attention to the drink in her hand – her fifth now. She didn't usually drink this much, but this album release made her so nervous.

She could feel the buzz taking over her senses; everything seemed funnier, the world was blurrier, her cares and worries washed away and all she wanted to do was laugh and dance. Musa grabbed Aisha's hand, demanding that she get up and dance with her. Aisha, always up for some dancing, didn't argue. The two headed towards the dance floor, brushing him off when Riven reminded them they had to stay where he could see Musa.

The music filled her ears, coursing through her veins in the most magical of ways. She felt like she was on top of the world: like she could climb Everest or wrestle an alligator and win. Musa had always loved dancing. At any given party – except her own which required her to play hostess – she could be found on the dance floor through most of the night. When she was little and would help her mom cook, they would sing and dance around the kitchen – a habit she still had to this day. It, along with her music room, was her happy place where she could let loose and just enjoy herself.

Musa had no idea how long she'd been dancing – three or four songs maybe – when Aisha wrapped her arms around the singer's waist and moved in close. "He's watching you" she whispered with a smirk.

"Wha-?" Musa's head started to turn so she could see who Aisha was talking about when the dancer firmly instructed her not to look. "Riven. He's been watching you."

"Oh" Musa gasped. He was watching her? A grin formed on her lips and a giggle escaped. She felt like she was sixteen again, but she was on such a high from the music and the alcohol – and maybe some second-hand weed smoke – that she couldn't be bothered to care. She and Aisha continued to dance together until a slow song came on and Nabu politely requested permission to steal Aisha from her.

It was almost half past three by the time most of the guests and service staff had left. The only people left, besides the security team, were Aisha, Nabu, Tecna and Timmy. Even Stella and Brandon had called it quits close to an hour earlier while Bloom and Sky had left just past one. Musa and Aisha were sitting on the patio couch talking about someone Riven had never heard of. Tecna was half asleep, resting her head on Musa's lap, though the singer was starting to doze off herself. Timmy – even though he hadn't needed to – had offered to stay until the end to do the final sweep with the team. Tecna was waiting for him and since Aisha was giving them a ride, she and Nabu had to wait too.

Riven took a seat across from Musa as he waited for the team to confirm that the sweep was finished, and everything was clear. It would be so much faster if he could do it himself; he knew the corners people could hide in and knew the ones they should be able to but couldn't like his own bed that was too low to the ground for someone to hide under. Instead, he was forced to sit on the terrace and watched as Musa – who was far passed trashed by now – talked to an almost stone-cold sober Aisha.

"Stella mentioned that this was probably one of Musa's calmest parties ever, but I think it may still be the best one I've ever been to" Nabu said, taking a seat beside him.

"I'll take your word for it."

"Yeah, I suppose being on duty would ruin it. Musa looks like a fun drunk though so at least you weren't stuck with an angry or sad drunk." Nabu nodded towards Musa and Aisha, the former of whom was cracking up while Aisha entertained a mild chuckle. Musa was always fun, but she did seem like she'd be extra fun to be drunk with. Drunk Musa laughed so much, and God knows that he was a complete sucker for that laugh. And she did know how to throw a party. Riven hadn't had the ability to try any of the signature drinks – named after her albums – but he did try the food and it was incredible. The DJ had been great, playing a variety of music to keep everyone entertained; at no point had the makeshift dance floor been empty. Everyone that left thanked her for a great evening which, though he'd never hosted a party, he assumed was a good sign.

"Best party you've ever been to? Really?" Riven doubled back. Nabu was from a wealthy family; he must've been to dozens of fancy parties. He also went to Columbia University with a bunch of business majors so Riven was sure he'd been to a rager or two.

"Oh yeah. My parents dragged me to all these fancy rich people parties as a kid, but they always had boring music and gross overtly fancy food. Like they felt the need to remind their guests that they were rich and that means that they're somehow superior. Uni-"

"All done" Timmy announced as he slid the terrace door closed behind him. "And just in time; I think Tecna's just about gone."

"'m still here" Tecna mumbled into Musa's lap. She pushed herself into a seated position and scooted so she could lean her head on Musa's shoulder. Musa rested her head on top of Tecna's and closed her eyes, mumbling about how sleep did sound nice.

"Not for long." Timmy laughed as he walked over to Tecna to pull her up. Once he'd gotten her up, Timmy pushed Tecna towards the door with Aisha and Nabu in tow. Musa grumbled about having to get up, but she did eventually follow them out, dragging her feet and stumbling as she went.

Once the group had said their goodbyes, Riven closed the door and set the alarm. When he turned around, Musa was nowhere to be seen. He knew she was small and, when sober, relatively quick and light on her feet, but how the fuck did she disappear so fast? "Musa?"

"Hmmm?"

Riven followed her voice into the living room and around the couch where Musa was curled up in a ball, hugging one of the throw pillows under her head. Riven chuckled as he turned around to set the patio alarm. "You can't sleep on the couch" he told her when he was done.

"'s comfy" she muttered. Her arm unhooked itself from the pillow and she motioned loosely towards the dark blue throw blanket that was folded up under the TV stand. "Wanna pass me that?"

"Musa. You can't sleep on the couch."

"I could 'f you'd passsme the damn blanket." Musa was just as fucking stubborn drunk as she was sober. Would it be too much to ask for her to be one of those drunks that's super friendly and down to do whatever people suggest. It would be so much easier if he could just say hey, let's go upstairs and sleep in our beds and she'd be excited to. Instead, he got to try to drag her upstairs.

"Muse. For fuck's sake. I need to be near you if someone breaks in. That means you can't sleep on the couch."

"So serious" she teased with a tired laugh. "I'm 'onna call you misser grumpy face."

Fuck, did she have to be adorable right now? He gave her a pointed look, but she laughed it off. A smile tugged at his lips, but he refused to let it through. He needed her to get to bed.

"Join me" she said, scooting back less than half an inch to make space for him. Riven tried to reason with her that he wouldn't fit on the couch with her. She argued that if he wasn't happy with the couch, he could sleep on the floor. Well, it wasn't so much argued as grumbled, but it was enough to annoy him. He tried to reason with her again, but it was like trying to explain physics to a toddler; nothing got through. Finally, he decided he'd had enough of fighting with her and scooped her up into his arms. He almost picked her up in a fireman's throw, but realised that, in her current inebriated state, that may cause her to throw up.

Musa tried to fight her way out of his grip until she seemingly realised it was him and calmed down. A smile plastered itself on her face as she rested her head onto his shoulder. Her free arm stretched around so that her wrist rested on his opposite shoulder and her hand fiddled with the baby hairs at the nape of his neck.

"You're comfy" she mumbled happily, nuzzling in closer to him. He could smell the alcohol on her, but it was nothing compared to the warmth that spread through him when she nuzzled into him. Her eyes closed and a strand of hair fell into her face which the placement of his arm stopped him from pushing behind her ear. She was so fucking cute it was almost painful.

Riven carefully carried her up the stairs and into her room where he set her on the bed. He took off her shoes and slipped the covers over her before sitting beside her on the bed to take her hair out of its buns. It took a minute of fiddling with the elastics to get them out, but he managed to do it without pulling her hair. Riven set the elastics on his bedside table and brushed her hair out with his hands so that they wouldn't be in too awful a state in the morning. If she was going to be, at least her hair wouldn't be too much of a nightmare. She had such silky soft hair – how did girls always have such soft hair?

"Hey Riven" she whispered as he stood to leave. He stopped in the doorway, turning around to see her watching him through hooded eyes.

"Yeah?"

"I'm really happy you're here."

Words escaped him. Was he supposed to make a joke about how she should be? Thank her? Ignore it because she was obviously drunk? Riven watched frozen as she buried her head in the pillow and closed her eyes, blissfully unaware that he hadn't answered. Even though she was drunk, and she may not be listening, he felt like the comment required an answer. It would be rude not to at least say thank you – Flora would certainly scold him for it if ever she found out – so he settled on, what was incredibly surprisingly, the truth. In some twisted way that he couldn't explain and that Riven from two months ago would never believe, it was the truth.

"Me too."