They Say Even Death Can't Cure an Idiot.

AN: I own none of these people!

"Hey Tommy-Tom." As his very drunk friend threw an arm around his shoulder, Thomas jumped, snapping out of his trance. He'd spent the last few minutes sitting in the corner of the club, the loud music and chat around him fading into a buzz as he tried to figure out a way that he could leave without his friends wanting to come with him. Seeing as Will looked like he could barely think straight right now, Thomas figured this might be a good time to try and get out of it. Normally, he loved going to clubs with the guys and Kaya, but tonight he just wasn't in the mood for it. So, he took a swig of his beer, shaking the bottle slightly to see how much was left before replying.

"Hello, William."

"Hey, now... hey... now, hey, hey . What're you calling me William for?" Will scrunched up his face as he elongated the word William, shaking his head in disgust.

"You only call me that when I'm drunk and you need to get through to me, and... like... bro..." For a second, he held his fist in mid-air, before punching Thomas' shoulder lightly.

"Bro... like... I'm not drunk." With an amused nod, Thomas looked Will up and down quickly, taking note of the fact that he had clearly forgotten to do his fly up after he last went to the bathroom.

"Yes, you are."

"Hey!" The younger man frowned in offense, jabbing his finger in Thomas' chest hard.

"I'm totally not."

"Ow." Thomas responded dryly, pushing Will's hand away and drinking the last of his beer.

"Ha!" Gesturing triumphantly to the bottle in Thomas' hand, Will rose from his seat and folded his arms.

"It is you that is drunk, Tommy-Thomas, not I." A scoff escaped Thomas' lips as he stood up too, brushing past Will to begin looking around for Kaya.

"Not I? Why're you going all 'proper English' on me, Poulter?"

"I am a proper English."

"You mean you speak- never mind." Thomas knew better by now than to question drunk Will's grip on the English language. So, knowing his friend was behind him due to the fact that he could hear him babbling on about how, if he was a 'proper English', then that meant that some people were 'proper French's', Thomas continued to wade through the crowd towards the bar. Eventually, he located the brown mane that belonged to Kaya, and walked over to her. She turned around a couple of seconds before the two men reached her, so she spun her stool around and leaned back on the counter.

"Here, you take this." Thomas said, moving closer to her so she could hear him over the music.

"This?" Will yelled in offence, having mirrored Thomas' movements and leant towards him and Kaya.

"Where're you going?" Kaya asked, ignoring Will's failed attempt at getting her attention by trying to wave his hand in front of her face (he ended up hitting himself.) Thankfully, she wasn't as drunk as Will so Thomas was able to have an actual conversation with her.

"Home. I'm knackered."

"It's only like 10pm."

"I know. I'm just not in the mood tonight. Make sure he drinks a shit ton of water before he goes to bed, and-"

"Now." The two mainly sober people turned to look at Will as he interrupted again, clearly having recovered from his elbowing incident. He slapped some more money down on the counter and asked for another beer before turning back to his two friends.

"How much, exactly, is a shit ton?" With a resigned sigh, Thomas ran a hand through his hair.

"It weighs about the same as a 'proper English', mate." Leaving Will to ponder over that statement, he said a quick goodbye to Kaya, kissing her cheek and promising over and over that he would text her when he got home. He told her to tell the other guys that he'd gone, and then he exited the club as quickly as he could.