Cal giving Mc a piggy back ride....😪😪
Pairing: Cal x f!MC (pre-relationship? early relationship? you decide)
Rating: T for mentions of alcohol and other things
Notes: I don’t usually take requests but I saw this one and the idea instantly popped into my mind so I had to write it. Also! Cal POV and fluff(ish) for a change.
[masterlist]
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She hums when she’s drunk.
It’s not good humming by any means. Cal thinks it could be Carly Rae Jepsen, but it could also be literally any other artist. Since those last few shots of tequila, she’s tipped from drunk to drunk, three sheets to the wind, waving hi at everyone they pass and humming god-knows-what, and Cal is so, so charmed.
Alcohol’s never affected him the way it should, but it certainly works just fine on this slip of a woman.
She’s leading him down the street by the hand, more wandering aimlessly than with purpose. They’ve been to 5 bars so far and lost their friends sometime after bar #4, but they’ve still got each other and Cal’s content to follow where she leads.
That is, until he smells something like blood from the direction of her feet and, alarmed, tugs at her hand to stop. She careens backwards into him, hitting his chest with an oof!
He steadies her with a hand on her hip. “Sorry, sorry,” he murmurs.
“Hi!” she chirps, unruffled.
“Hi yourself,” he says, smiling despite himself. She’s so drunk. “How are you?”
“I’m good! I’m sooooooo good,” she says, words tumbling out of her mouth, one after another. “I’m having such a good time. That last bar was so fun!” She sways more into him, planting a hand on his chest. “And you are a very good dancer. Very good.”
“All right, all right,” he laughs, herding her backwards where there’s an empty bench. “Let’s get you sitting down.”
She goes easily, letting him help her down. He crouches before her and, like he suspected, her feet are bare.
“What happened to your shoes?” he asks, gently lifting a foot to prop up on his thigh. He thumbs at the spot of blood he finds, welled up around a lodged rock in her heel.
“My what?” She peers down at him and winces when he removes the rock. “Oh! My shoes! Well, my feet were hurting reeeeeeaaaaaal bad so I took them off. I left them at….” She trails off, thinking hard, mouth starting to wobble. “…somewhere. I left them somewhere.”
Cal lifts her other foot onto his thigh to check for injuries, trying to think back at the bars they’ve gone to. She definitely still had them at bar #3, because that’s the one they danced at and the memory of her grinding her ass into his crotch while wearing 5-inch fuck-me stilettos is forever seared into his brain. If they retrace their steps, maybe they’ll have some luck.
“Did I lose them?” she asks tearfully. “Cal, did I lose my shoes?”
“Hey, no, it’s ok,” he says, squeezing her ankle in comfort. “We’ll find them, I promise.”
She sniffs. “How?”
“Here.” He lowers her feet to the ground and turns to face away from her. “Get on my back, we’ll go looking.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Now hop on.”
She wraps her arms tight around his shoulders, slumping onto him, and he wraps his hands around the backs of her thighs and stands. He tries not to shiver when she presses her mouth into the nape of his neck as he walks, resuming her humming. Her skin is soft under his touch, warm and smooth, but now is not the time to think about that.
“Where are we going?” she asks, chin now hooked over his shoulder. She gasps when they pass a bar. “Cal, are we going dancing again??”
He can’t help the laugh that comes up. “No, silly, we’re looking for your shoes, remember?”
“Ohhhhh…right, right,” she says, and presses her cheek against his. “I lost those, didn’t I.”
“That’s right.”
She hums some more, and Cal definitely thinks there are a couple of notes from the chorus of “Too Much” in there, maybe. Someone jostles into them, and she yelps, tightening her hold on him in distress.
“I’ve got you,” he assures her. “I’ve got you.”
“You’ve got me,” she agrees, and then hums again.
