One-Shots

After Party (Scomiche) (please read rating)

Hi guys I haven't posted in so long that my last update was from high school and I'm in college now. Yikes. Anyways here's a scomiche AU!

There will be some attempted sexual assault in this chapter but nothing bad ends up happening. Please do not read this chapter if you are sensitive to mentions of assault!

After the Grammy party, Mitch couldn't resist going back to the hotel to have a few more drinks. He had just won his first Grammy award, and the hotel would be packed full of celebrities. Even though he had been getting a bit more attention in the media lately, he still found himself getting starstruck and flustered all the time.

Mitch entered the expansive ballroom in the 5-star hotel, it seemed endless with glittering chandeliers and beautiful marble pillars. The ceilings were even detailed and painted. After soaking in the room, Mitch began noticing the people occupying it. The room was very crowded, yet he could still see the faces of many of the industry's most iconic performers mingling about. Taking in a deep breath and swallowing his nerves, Mitch descended the short staircase into the ballroom.

Quickly Mitch was engulfed into the crowd, bodies bumping into each other as the music and chatter became more and more deafening in his ears. Parties and big crowds had never really been Mitch's cup of tea, and it was all growing to be quite overwhelming. Panicked, his eyes scanned the room in search of any type of solace, which he found almost immediately. The bar perched on the far wall was nearly empty, and damn could he use a drink.

"What'll it be for you tonight, sir?" the bartender asked with a smirk.

"Um, a vodka tonic please." Mitch loosened his tie and settled himself on a barstool.

"Coming right up." The bartender was tall and blond and seemed very kind. "And for you, sir?"

Mitch absentmindedly picked at his fingers while he waited for his drink, not wanting to look up at whoever just sat down directly beside him.

"Gin. Neat." the voice sounded familiar, so Mitch turned. He was faced with a man he couldn't exactly identify, but he knew he had seen him in some corporate meetings at some point. He was tall and broad, with a balding head of black hair and thick frown lines. The man was definitely a music producer, but Mitch struggled to remember which one. "You're Mitch Grassi, right?"

"Oh, um, yes sir that's me." Mitch smiled shyly as the blond handed him his drink.

"Well congratulations are in order then." The man gently tapped their glasses together and Mitch beamed.

"Yes, I suppose so."

The men continued to chat for nearly an hour, the mystery man being very complimentary of Mitch's work. He seemed almost flirtatious, but hardly as playful as Mitch was used to men being. He had an air of business to him that made him seem very in-charge, and while Mitch continued to laugh at his jokes and accept his compliments, he found it quite intimidating. The party was soon dying down, leaving only a dozen or so people dancing in the room.

"So, how would you feel about coming back to my place tonight?" Richard, the music producer, asked as he leaned in towards Mitch. A funny feeling rose into Mitch's throat as he replied.

"Oh, um... thank you! But I- I don't think I should." The man's expression changed.

"I see. Well that's alright, we can just stay here and chat a little while longer." He said as the bartender began wiping down the counter. He eyed the pair drinking, and pretended to be busy with cleaning.

"That sounds good, thanks." Mitch said. Richard pulled out his wallet to pay for the drinks, and clumsily dropped his credit card.

"Damn." he muttered.

"Oh, let me get that for you" Mitch offered and bent down to pick up the card. Richard used this as an opportunity to slip a tiny bit of powder into the remainder of Mitch's tonic, sly as a fox. "Here you go!" Mitch replied before taking a sip. The bar phone rang.

"Excuse me, sir? Are you Richard?" The bartender asked.

"Yes I am. Why do you ask?" He asked sternly

"Well I believe there's a cab outside waiting for you." The tall blond man smiled politely.

"Tell them to go away." He growled

"Well, I'm afraid they need you to confirm with them outside. It sounds rather urgent." Finally the man stood, gripped Mitch's forearm, and leaned in close to his ear.

"Don't move a fucking muscle." He snarled.

Mitch's stomach dropped and stood to leave as soon as Richard had exited the ballroom. The shiny tile floors spun in circles around him as he moved, and as quickly as he stood he decided to sit back down again. Head in hands, Mitch began to feel funny. It was almost as if he were a ghost- his body was one place and his feelings were elsewhere.

"Mitch? Hi, I'm sorry to interrupt your evening but I saw the man slip something in your drink. There is no cab outside, but if we move quick he won't run into us. Are you staying in this hotel?" The bartender asked.

"Mmhmm" Mitch managed to reply, but everything felt so foreign. The tongue in his mouth didn't move how he wanted it to, and he was struggling to keep his eyes open.

"Okay great! What room are you staying in?" But Mitch had already drifted asleep. "Okay, Mitch I don't want to touch you but I'm going to have to real quick."

Quickly he rummaged through Mitch's pockets until he found a room key, the number 709 printed into the side.

"Ok Mitch, I need you to wake up a bit now." Gently, he slapped at Mitch's cheeks. "That's it, okay."

"Why are you so blurry?" Mitch asked. "And what's your name?"

"My name is Scott. We need to go up to your room now, okay?" Together they began walking away from the bar, Scott propping the singer up on his shoulder as he stumbled into the elevator. Scott had seen many things working as a bartender, but this was his first time witnessing somebody slip a date rape drug into a drink. He knew it must happen pretty often, but the thought made him feel sick.

"Oooookay seventh floor." Mitch chimed as the elevator stopped. He moved to take a step independently of Scott, but ended up falling flat on his face.

"Oh no, Mitch!" Scott pulled Mitch's limp body out of the elevator and helped him back to his feet yet again. "You need to be careful, okay? Oh jeez, you're bleeding. Okay that's it, slow and steady."

They finally made it to Mitch's room, where Scott propped Mitch up on the bed. Falling in the elevator left him with a rug burn on his forehead, and a tiny drop of blood was making its way down Mitch's face. Scott looked through the bathroom but found nothing more than some toilet paper and a bandaid. When he brought the items out to Mitch, the boy was out like a light. Gently, Scott wiped the blood from Mitch's face and applied the bandaid. He then rolled Mitch onto his side and covered him with a blanket before turning to leave.

"Scotch?" Mitch moaned groggily. "Why do I feel so funny?"

Scott sighed and returned to Mitch's side, ignoring the fact that Mitch couldn't say his name. "You feel funny because that old man slipped drugs into your drink."

"Is he gone?" Mitch's eyes stayed shut but his brow furrowed as he recalled talking to Richard.

"Yeah, he's gone. I promise." Scott tried to assure him.

"But... what if he comes to get me? What if I'm still so sleepy and he finds me?"

"I... I don't know. I promise he's gone."

"Scotch can you please stay with me? Just so he can't get me?" Scott sat in a stunned silence for a moment, not sure how to respond. His shift was done for the night and he had no reason to leave, plus Mitch did have a point. The drugs in his system would leave him pretty vulnerable for quite a while.

"Sure, I'll stay with you."

Scott got up and locked the door, then scanned the room for a place to sleep. The bed was the only option, so he climbed in and covered himself with a different blanket than Mitch's. Even though he was scared, he was in no state to consent to anything. Scott thought the best move was to just keep to himself as much as possible until Mitch woke up.