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Gahhhhhh!!!!!! so soft!!!!!!!

Prompt: If someone had told you an hour ago that Vil and Rook would attempt breaking into Ramshackle, drunk out of their minds, you would have laughed and waved off their words. Well, that was what you would have thought an hour ago.

Pairing: Rook x Gn!Yuu/Prefect/Reader x Vil

Genre: Fluff

TW: Underage drinking, mentions of being very drunk, Rook and Vil are most definitely ooc (cause they're drunk)

A.N: For the record, I am not trying to encourage underage drinking. That is not my intention. I just had a funny story told to me by my aunt that inspired this. Again, not trying to encourage underage drinking or heavy drinking (drink responsibly and only after you come of age please).

If someone had told you an hour ago that Vil and Rook would attempt breaking into Ramshackle, drunk out of their minds, you would have laughed and waved off their words.

After all, Rook would never willingly compromise himself by drinking to the point where he couldn't walk without stumbling. He was a hunter; his sharp senses were his pride, and alcohol muddles the senses, rendering them dull. The idea of such loss of control over his actions may be a bit tempting, but you knew he wouldn't be as irresponsible as to have alcohol on a school night.

The same could be said for Vil. He was comfortable with showing you and Rook more of his natural and less put-together side, but he would not exactly let himself be drunk to the point where he slurred his words, each syllable melting into the next as he attempted to communicate with you. Not just to keep his dignified and elegant image, but also because of how horrible the hangover on the next day would be for him (he was a lightweight who learned it the hard way after getting into his father's special alcohol stash one day).

Well, that was what you would have thought an hour ago.

You sighed as you looked at the two boys who had all but broken the door to Ramshackle down. The pounding on the door (courtesy of Rook, who was also saying something that sounded like an essay in French as he stood outside your dorm) had woken you up from where you had fallen asleep completing assignments. You could still remember Grim's confused "Mrah?!" as he walked over and opened the front door for the two, bolting upstairs when the stink of alcohol became too much for his poor sensitive nose to bear.

Somehow, you had managed to bring the two inside, to the guest room, where they were both sprawled in a messy heap of limbs on a couch. It would have been a little cute, had they not been absolutely hammered beyond belief.

"Mon cher Trickster~" Rook hummed, eyes sly and captivating even as they drooped from the influence of alcohol. "Come nearer, and allow me... allow me the privilege of... basking in your glory..."

His voice was smooth and silky, and if it weren't for the way you saw him struggle like a newborn fawn just moments ago, you would have believed him to still be somewhat sober.

Vil, meanwhile, was just staring up at you with an awe-struck look on his face, eyes wide and shiny. Cheeks warm and a soft red from whatever he drank, he seemed content to just watch you as you stood in front of them wondering what to do. You looked over their appearance. Both the Pomefiore boys looked as beautiful as ever, even with their very obviously inebriated actions and reactions.

"What did you two drink? And how much?" You asked Rook, crouching slightly to reach his eye level. Rook scrunched his nose, looking up at the ceiling as he tried to remember; meanwhile your eyes focused on the freckles that had begun making their appearance after hours of being hidden beneath makeup.

"Apple... juice," Rook said, head tilting towards you as he answered your question. "Just... apple juice," Vil agreed, words mixing in his mouth even as he answered you with all the seriousness of a five year old trying to tell his mother that he had not had any cookies before dinner.

"You two don't seem like you had just apple juice though," you hummed, holding back a smile as Vil pouted at your words. Before he could voice any protests, you lightly patted his head, running your fingers through the silky blonde strands. Vil melted under your tender touch, eyes closing in bliss as he rested his head on Rook's chest.

"Stay," you ordered him, much in the way Crewel would with his students, but with a marked gentleness to your tone. Vil nodded, watching you with half-lidded eyes as you tried to make them more comfortable on the couch. Coaxing Rook to get up just a little for you to slip a pillow under his head, getting one of the blankets Vil had gotten especially for you, he watched you do every little thing to make their impromptu sleepover more comfortable for them.

Rook had fallen asleep by the time you finished making arrangements for the two of them to sleep somewhat comfortably. While you would have preferred to get them to your room and on an actual bed, they did not seem to be in any condition to climb the rickety stairs Ramshackle was famous for.

Ruffling Rook and Vil's hair one last time, you turned to move... only to be held back by a hand closing around your wrist. Your eyes trailed down your arm, an amused expression on your face as you saw Vil holding onto you.

"Yes, Vil?"

"Stay," Vil mirrored your words from before, the softly uttered command lacking the impact it otherwise would have had on you. Dewy eyes looked up at you, and a gentle "Please.." slipped through his lips, tugging at your heart strings the way he was tugging at your wrist.

You chuckled and acquiesced, sitting down in front of the couch with your wrist still in his grasp. Moving Rook's hand out of the way, you laid your head on the edge of the couch, looking into amethyst eyes. Eyes that softened with sleep and contentment as he watched you settle down near the two of them.

He stubbornly tried to remain awake, even as his eyelids kept drooping in protest. You, who had already had quite a restful nap (thanks to Professor Trein's homework) kept watching him in thinly veiled amusement and adoration for a few minutes, before speaking to him in a gentle tone. "You should go to sleep Vil. It's late."

A petulant pout was directed at you, and you resisted the urge to pinch his cheeks. "Come on, you need to sleep. It's important for a healthy and glowing skin, y'know," you hummed, using his own words (that he used nearly everyday for you) for him. His eyelids drooped even lower at the warmth in your voice, yet he stubbornly kept looking at you.

"I'm not going anywhere, Vil. I promise."

Finally, the male seemed satisfied with what you said. At least, that's what you figured from the way his eyes fully closed and remained closed, his breathing gradually slowing down as he fell into a deep sleep.

Your hand was still held in his. While his grip had loosened in his sleep... you did promise to stay.

Well, there were more uncomfortable places and positions you could have slept in.