• one shots • (hiatus)

love me like you *scömìche*

title from the song by Little Mix because they are also my faves, I love them so much, and I'm very excited for their new album.
-

"I am not doing karaoke in this tiny little bar after only four cheap shots."

Scott pushes out his bottom lip, dropping his head onto Mitch's shoulder and sighing pathetically. "Mitchie," he whines.

Mitch's heart skips a beat. He tells it to shut up and just do its job. "No."

"It's my birthday!"

Mitch rolls his eyes. "It was your birthday two days ago, Dreamland, you just haven't stopped celebrating."

Scott laughs and a few people around them turn to look. Mitch is reminded that they're on a couch, in a bar, in Vegas.

"I'm sure if you put on some Taylor Swift, Alex would be more than happy to do karaoke with you." Not like it'd make me feel any better.

Scott shakes his head.

"Carrie Underwood?"

Scott snorts. "I don't want to do it with Alex, Mitchie. I love hearing you sing and I bet everyone here would love it, too."

Mitch pats his head. "You're a sentimental little drunk, aren't you?"

He spots Alex in the crowd, trying to make his way over, and everything immediately feels uncomfortable. He pushes Scott off him.

"Sorry, Starlight, but the boyfriend's coming."

Scott frowns, looking around them. "He's not my boyfriend," he mutters, and Mitch's heart skips another beat.

"He kind of is."

Alex reaches them, panting slightly, and beams at Scott, who doesn't really notice.

"How's he doing?" he asks Mitch, and he smiles warily.

"He's drunk, Kirk. Someone let him have a few too many shots."

Alex had the good decency to look a little sheepish, since he was expected to look after Scott when they reached the drinking part of the night. Instead, he went out on the dance floor with some of their other friends they brought with them.

"Thanks for being there, Grassi," he says, turning to Scott. "Babe, you wanna dance?"

Scott shrugs, allowing Alex to pull him up off the couch by the hand. "I'll see you later, Sunshine," he says to Mitch, who nods, and then they're gone.

Mitch collapses back against the couch, closing his eyes and hating the situation. He hasn't seen anyone he knows, besides Scott and Alex, since they arrived. It's not even midnight yet and Mitch is sick of the bar, sick of Vegas, and sick of Scott and Alex's practically picture perfect relationship.

"Hey," a strange voice says, and Mitch's eyes pop open.

Oh, we must be at the 'get hit on by random drunk boys' part of the night.
***

Mitch originally wanted nothing to do with any guy who attempted to hit on him. But that was an hour ago, and here he is, with a tall guy named James, dancing by the counter. James' hands probably wouldn't leave his hips if Mitch got a crowbar, but it's not bad.

"Did you come here by yourself?" James' says into his ear.

Mitch shakes his head, looking around to see who he can spot. He sees Alex, briefly, across the building and hopes Scott's all right.

"Nope," he says to James. "It's been a party. Came all the way to Vegas."

James looks surprised. "You aren't from around here?"