((Don't make assumptions this is not a nsfw chapter. It's just... not particularly sfw, either. :) ))

Okay.

Scott wasn't quite sure how he ended pressed to the wall of the walk-in linen cupboard, giggling drunkenly against Vincent's lips as they made out.

It might have started when Mike took a sip of the red wine Vincent had bought, and stuck out his tongue, exclaiming, "Ugh, gross, you call this watered-down cordial alcohol? Geezus, Vincent. Well, guess I'm lucky I brought my own booze... Anyone want any?"

Scott didn't know where Mike bought his alcohol, but it had very definitely illegal amounts of concentration. Scott hadn't even finished half a glass before his speech had started slurring.

And... about half a glass after that, the rest of the world had started slurring, too.

The shelves of the linin cupboard were pressing slightly into his back, making him uncomfortable, but he was in absolutely no state to protest, tasting the alcohol on Vincent's breath as he growled against his jawline.

Vincent pulled him in for another kiss, obviously tipsy as all hell too, and Scott didn't find it in him to argue, letting himself melt away.

The door to the cupboard opened, and in the doorframe stood Mike. He looked the two up and down and mumbled, "Huh. Gays in the closet."

Scott snorted, pulling away from Vincent and laughing, "Mike, I think that'ssss the only goood jooke I've ever heardyouu tell."

Vincent pointedly ignored Mike, leaning in to leave kisses on Scott's forehead and down the side of his face before finally letting him go and taking a step back.

"Aw, come on," Mike rolled his eyes. "All my jokes are good jokes. Anyway, Scott, people are starting to wonder where you guys are. You can't just disappear at your own birthday party..."

"Mmmmnngh," Scott groaned, leaning against Vincent's shoulder and letting his arms hang loosely around his waist. "I'm tiiiiired. I don' wanna go out there."

Vincent's arm slung around Scott's back, pulling him closer into his side, "We needa get you sh-sobered up... and me too, for thhat matter." He yawned, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. "I'm not usssually a big drinker... getssss me tired and angry."

"Heh... and tennn timess hotter..." Scott slurred, burying his face into Vincent's shirt. "Mm, I looove you, Vinny~"

Vincent chuckled, "Okay, we definitely need to get you sober. You really can't handle your alcohol, Scott." With a glance at Mike, who stepped out of the way, Vincent started trying to edge his way over to the door of the closet - which was no easy feat with Scott clutching onto his side like a sleepy koala.

Scott grumbled to himself, removing his arms from Vincent's waist only to instantly re-wrap around his neck. "Mmm, stop- Stop making me dizzy..."

"I'm pretty... pretty sure that's a-a little more to do with the three full glasses of Tequila you had, Scott. I'm sssurprised you haven't thrown up yet," Vincent huffed. "Can you at least try to move your legs? I'm not dragging you all the way to the kitchen, Scott."

Scott whined, sounding like a teenager that had just been told that the wifi password had been changed. But, he got to his feet, starting to shuffle along. "'M not... you had Tequila, too..." He started mumbling incoherently, trailing off into nothing.

Vincent rolled his eyes, "Absolutely hopeless."

--

Scott opened his eyes, groaning. He was dimly aware of being spreadeagled on the sofa, one of his legs draped over the back of the couch and one of his arms hanging off the side. His mouth was wide open and he closed it, grimacing at the taste of stale alcohol. He looked up at the clock that was hanging on the wall near the couch and saw that it was 10.30pm. He frowned. He'd slept for... for...

How long had he been asleep for?

There was a distant throbbing in his head as he straightened up and hopped off of the couch. His limbs were unbelievably stiff from lying in an awkward position for so long, and he stretched as he stumbled into the living room.

"There you are," Vincent gave him a look, "You've been out of it for an hour. Do you have a hangover?"

"What?" Scott blinked, and shook his head. And then winced at the throbbing, "Well... a little one. Nothing bad though."

"Good. Mike and I made you drink three glasses of water and take an Ibuprofen before you passed out," Vincent leaned on the mantelpiece, taking a sip out of what was probably hot chocolate. He did have a soft spot for hot chocolate.

"Has everyone gone home?" Scott asked.

"Nope. Well, Mike, Andy and Sam have, but your family, Kayla, Blake and Oliver decided to stick around. You're lucky I convinced them not to draw on your face with a sharpie. Ollie was going to give you a moustache. Kayla was going to give you eyeliner. Said something about a conversation you had with her. Linda was going to draw "I LOVE VINCENT" right across your forehead. Pretty sure Blake was going to draw something inappropriate. No guesses for what," Vincent sighed. "Kids these days..."

Scott chuckled, walking over to Vincent and sliding an arm around his waist, relaxing into him. "Thanks for looking after me, then. I must have been drunk out of my mind."

"Oh, you were..." Vincent grinned. "You definitely were..."

Linda walked into the living room with an empty wine glass in her hand, looking around and spotting Vincent and Scott. "Hey there, lover boys. You feelin' better, Scott?"

"Much," Scott smiled. "Oh well. Your birthday's the one day a year you can get wasted and nobody blames you for it."

"That's true," Linda's smile faded a little. She glanced around, and walked over to Scott. "Scotty, I know this is kind of hard on you on your birthday, but you really need to talk to Kayla."

Scott blinked in surprise, his eyebrows raising, "Kayla? Why on earth...?"

"Oh, come on. Surely you've noticed that she isn't feeling herself tonight. You don't have to be a psychologist to notice that that girl is bottling a lot up," Linda berated, sounding almost like an angry parent.

"Okay, okay. Yes, I've noticed, but..." Scott shrugged awkwardly, "Why... why me? Isn't that more of a... I dunno, a 'girl talk'? What if it's like..." Scott glanced around, and then in a hushed voice, whispered, "Her period or something..."

"Then you grow up and deal with it. She's going to listen to you because she admires you. You, not me, not Vincent, not Oliver and certainly not Blake. She needs someone to talk to and you're the person she trusts the most. For goodness' sakes, Scott, be a man for once," Linda raised her eyebrows as if to say 'well?'.

Scott huffed, "Why'd you have to go and make it personal...? Okay, okay. I'll talk to her."

"Good," Linda's smile was back. She leaned in and kissed Scott on the cheek, and then continued walking into the kitchen to refill her glass.