“Hey, you. Up to trouble, as usual, I see.”

“Me? I’ve been on my best behavior tonight, unlike some people we won’t name,” Finn said. “Brougham,” he added for clarification anyway.

Brougham wasn’t able to form a coherent response, but he did manage a groan of displeasure.

“Has he been sick?” I asked Finn as he and Luke helped Brougham to Ainsley’s car. Brougham’s head fell forward like all the muscles in his neck failed at once.

“No,” Brougham said, apparently still conscious despite appearances.

“A couple times, yeah,” Finn said. “You got a bucket?”

“Sure do. Hoping we won’t need it, but still.”

“I thought he passed out at one point, about thirty minutes ago, but he grunted when we poked him, so I think we’re safe. Then we poked him some more for fun, and he kept grunting, so. You know. That’s promising. Still, you might wanna keep a close eye on him for a little while. Call me if anything goes wrong, because his parents think he’s at my house tonight.”

“Wait, what?”

“It’ll be fine. I’ll text you his mom’s number just in case, okay?”

Not exactly, but it was too late now.

“What are the legal ramifications if he dies at my house?”

“Terrible. That’s why I’m passing him off to you.” Finn grinned and bent his knees to hoist a very floppy Brougham into the backseat, with Ainsley holding the door open for him. “There you go, bud. Comfy?”

Brougham squeezed his eyes shut and tipped his head back with a drawn-out moan.

While Finn tried to operate Brougham’s seat belt with drunken fingers, I went around to the other side and slid into the backseat beside him. Brougham watched Finn’s hands with a measure of interest.

“You okay?” I asked him over the revving engine.

He emerged from his daze and looked at me like he’d only just noticed I was there. Then his eyelids drooped, and his head tipped again. “I mmm sleep.”

“You can lean against me if you need to.”

He didn’t need to be asked twice. His cheek went straight to my shoulder, his hair tickling my collarbone and his breath warm against my chest as he began to breathe deeply and methodically. The way people tended to breathe when they were trying their hardest not to vomit.

I reached for the bucket and pulled it into my lap for safekeeping.

At home, it took both me and Ainsley to haul Brougham out of the car and all the way into the living room. Keeping him upright while also opening doors and fiddling with locks was no mean feat, either. By the time we deposited Brougham unceremoniously on the sofa, I was out of breath.

Ainsley sprinted to the car to fetch the bucket while I watched him. He slumped to one side, but stayed on the sofa.