Scomiche OneShots

Protective

The club was packed to the brim. Some early 2000s deep house track that Mitch couldn't quite place was blaring in the background as he entered with Scott's reassuring hand on his back. The whole squad was meeting here tonight to celebrate the end of tour. Mitch was anxious to get his hands on a drink and get to the fun, tipsy part of clubbing, instead of the first few minutes of being sober and surrounded by sweaty drunks. Luckily, the VIP booth, reserved under 'Hoying', was meant to be stocked with champagne. The couple slid into one of the booths before greeting everyone and anticipating a chill night out with some of their best friends.

--

15 minutes later and Mitch was on the dancefloor in state of enjoyable intoxication. He felt weightless, but still grounded and protected by the solid wall of muscle pressed against his back and the arm wrapped around his thin frame.

"What do you want from the bar, babe?" Scott whispered in his ear, his breath smelled like a dizzying combination of mint, and Corona with lime. Mitch rubbed circles into the arm around his waist and looked up at Scott. He looked even more handsome than usual, with his auburn scruff and a distressed denim jacket. The outfit screamed Dom Top, and that was Mitch's favorite Scott look. Mitch craned his neck to murmur in the tall boy's ear.

"Whatever you wanna get me, Daddy."

Scott smirked down at his boy and kissed his neck, a silence assurance that he'd be right back with their drinks. He left Mitch and managed his way past the sweaty and drunken bodies to the bar. Finding a too-small stool to fit in, he waited for the bartender to finish... tending the bar.

"What can I get you, son?" He was built as hell and definitely older, sporting salt and pepper hair with a matching beard. Scott set his empty glass bottle on the counter, "Another beer for me, and a vodka tonic." The gray haired man started on the drinks. "Is the tonic for the little brunet you left on the floor?" he asked.

Scott smiled proudly at the mention of Mitch and replied, "Yeah, my boyfriend." The bartender hummed in understanding and nodded. "You two are quite the pair," he replied in a kind tone. Scott took that as a compliment and thanked the man, then sat in a comfortable silence as he made the drinks.

In the middle of pouring Mitch's tonic, the bartender set down his shaker. He caught Scott's attention, pointing somewhere behind them on the dancefloor.

"Hey man, it doesn't look like your lil' brunet knows that guy." He warned, eyebrows furrowed in concern. Scott spun around abruptly, trying to follow where the bartender was gesturing. When he finally saw Mitch's profile, rage bloomed in the pit of his stomach.

Mitch was pressed up against a wall, struggling to free himself from some unknown man's grasp. The douche had dark, slicked back hair and was wearing the world's tightest black tee. Before he realized he had even gotten up, Scott had crossed the bar, and was nose-to-nose with the overly fake tanned bastard.

"Did you just touch him?"

"Yeah, what are you gonna do about it?"

Scott stepped forward to position Mitch behind him before shoving the jerk, "I'm gonna fuck you up, That's what." The gross man was obviously drunk off his ass and staggered back significantly, before running towards Scott with a sloppy punch. It missed him completely, so Scott grabbed the man by his shirt and connected a quick punch to his face. Mitch yelped at the sound of the hit and tried to move around Scott to get a closer look, but the blond extended his arm to keep Mitch securely behind him. The orange asshole was laid out on the ground until the club bouncers could carry him out a few moments later.

Scott lead a completely stunned and still incredibly tipsy Mitch out of the building. Once they were outside, he assessed and scanned the boy's body, checking for any injury, before holding his face in his hands.

"Are you okay, baby? Did he hurt you? Did he touch you anywhere—"

"Scott! I'm fine! Calm down," he slurred.

"What did he say to you?"

"Scotty, I'm Fiiine!! What about you, though. Does your hand hurt? You punched the shit out of that guy." Scott looked Mitch in the eye, almost incredulous that he was worrying about his hand, rather than being felt up by that creep just 5 minutes ago. "I would kill someone for you," he vowed.

"That's really intense," Mitch deadpanned. Scott rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms around the boy, just glad that he was safe and didn't seem upset. "You're so drunk. Let's get you home, Angel," he sighed, pecking his temple with a chaste kiss.

A/N

Hi. So, this was written quickly and probably could've been better, but here is my first oneshot! I got the inspiration from one of their many recent live.me streams. Hope you liked it. :)