top 5 reasons not to kiss your friend in a sketchy hotel (zandrew)

one

"Get out." Zubin grumbles at his suitcase, struggling to pull it from the back of the van in his drunken state. He finally manages to get the thing on the ground, wobbling slightly in place as his head spins. Joe laughs far too loudly beside him, knocking their shoulders together when he steps closer.

"What's wrong, dude? Did you really drink that much?" Joe asks, his tone teasing while his lips curl into a smile. Smug bastard. Zubin wants to hit him with his suitcase, but he doesn't, because he's nice like that.

He probably would if he was drunker. Was that a word? Zubin's mind starts to wander, but he's pulled back into the present by Ross's voice. "Zubin, come on. You can't just stand in the parking lot all night." Zubin startles a bit when he realizes the rest of the band, plus Bora, are already halfway to the hotel. Without him.

"Wait, why are you- don't leave me!" Zubin shouts, absolutely distraught. He stumbles after the others, nearly tripping over his own feet in the darkness.

He catches up with the others easily, but just because he's rejoined them doesn't mean he's done feeling betrayed. Rob falls into step next to him, smelling rather strongly of alcohol. Zubin ignores the urge to complain about it, considering he's probably in a similar state.

"Hey, Zubes. Zubes! You ever- you–" Rob trails off, his grin fading into a confused frown. "Fuck. I forgot what I was sayin'... sorry, man." Zubin offers Rob a comforting shoulder pat, feeling sort of bad when he sees the put-out look on Rob's face.

"Okay, c'mon. We need to check in, I'm tired." Joe announces, taking the lead as they step into the hotel. The too-bright fluorescent lighting hurts Zubin's eyes, and he scowls while Joe walks up to the front desk. "Hi. We need, um..." Joe's voice trails off for a moment as he counts under his breath. "Three rooms. With two beds. Each. Thanks!"

Joe grins at the disgruntled employee while he fumbles through his pockets in search of his wallet. He finds it a solid ten seconds later, humming happily as he fishes out his credit card.

The employee does not take it and instead types something on her extremely loud keyboard. "We only have two of those kinds of rooms that aren't booked. We can give you those and one with just one bed. Is that okay?"

Joe turns to the others, who all shrug. "Not it!" Joe says, much too loudly, his hand flying up to tap his nose. Rob, Ross, and Bora are quick to mimic him, but Zubin's a few seconds late, and Andrew says absolutely nothing. "Wait, where's Andrew?" Zubin wonders, spinning around to search the lobby for his absent friend.

"Fuck." Ross mutters. "Did we leave him at the bar or something?"

"No, I'm pretty sure I saw him in the van. We probably just forgot him in there." Rob reasons. Zubin turns to the doors, feeling a bit panicked. "I'll go look for him!" He announces, sprinting out.

Zubin steps out into the night, enjoying the chilly air and lack of headache-inducing lights. He spins around, searching his surroundings for the missing keyboardist, and finds Andrew slumped over on a bench to the right of the door.

Zubin gasps, rushing to his side and grabbing Andrew's shoulder to shake him. "Andrew! Why're you out here? You're supposed to be inside with the rest of us." Andrew's eyes flutter open, his gaze settling on Zubin's face. "'m tired." He mumbles, pouting.

"Aw. Well, c'mon, you can't– this is a bad place for a nap." Zubin insists, grabbing Andrew's wrist to pull him up. "You were only out here for, like, a minute. How'd you fall asleep so fast?" He leads Andrew towards the automatic doors, shuddering when Andrew twists his hand to interlock their fingers.

"I think I drank too much, Zubin," Andrew confides, his voice sort of sad and whiny and unbelievably attractive, the way he says Zubin's name sending something adoring and vaguely possessive squirming about in his chest. Zubin feels his face heat, and he's never been more grateful that a blush isn't very obvious on his darker complexion.