“Leave me alone, Big Toe,” Sam grumbles. Ah, it’s Thomas then.
“I cannot lift you, you largeidiot!” Thomas shakes him again, before calling out in quick French.
“That’s so sexy.”
“Shut up.”
Sam is hefted up, into someone’s arms, and carried through space. “What the?—?”
Since when has Thomas been so strong? Sam cranks his eyes open, but squints against the bright lights of the club.
“Do not move,” Thomas demands from his side, jolting Sam all the way awake. “Maël is with security. I have a car to the hotel, but you need to get in it yourself.”
“Yeah, okay.” Sam is gently set down on his feet when they reach the pavement. It’s the nicest forced exit he’s ever had from a club.
Thomas shoves a shirt against Sam’s bare chest before he takes his wallet out, pushes bills at the man, and speaks in rapid French.
Sam works on putting his hands through the long sleeves as the Frenchmen keep talking and looking at him. Their conversation seems heated until the security guard digs out his phone and Thomas poses for a selfie with him.
Sam loves a fan. “Want one with me?”
“He does not,” Thomas replies curtly. “You should be grateful, you look terrible.”
“Hey!”
The security guard must’ve turned the phone camera around, because it’s definitely pointing at Sam. The Australian smiles for the picture, happy whenever Thomas is proven wrong.
Thomas watches the phone as well, his lips turned up. “You deserve this, really.”
An SUV arrives and Thomas thanks the security guy before ushering Sam in and slamming the door. He speaks French to the driver as they pull up to a building Sam’s never seen before. Then again, to the doorman.
“I don’t think this is my hotel,” Sam finally says.
Thomas pauses his efforts to usher them through the lobby. “What?”
Sam retrieves his key card and holds it up to the name over the front desk. They’re both in French, but those are definitely different words. “Yeah, not this one.”
Thomas groans. “Like you have not been enough trouble for one day. You can stay with me.” He resumes his dragging, grasping Sam around the forearm. “At least for the next couple of hours.”
When they enter the elevator, Thomas slumps against the wall and closes his eyes.
“When you think about it, it’s pretty impressive we’ve managed to be in the same hotel this whole time,” Sam says, just to make conversation. “I dunno what I’d do if I showed up at some rando’s door.”
“I am sure they would not mind.”
“Still.”
Thomas peeks an eye open. “So are you awake now?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“It did not look like you drank that much.” Thomas’s eyes drift over to the beeping number above the elevator’s doors. “Not enough to pass out.”
“I, uh…” Well, this is awkward. “I didn’t. I fell asleep.”
“But it was so loud.”
“Yeah. Sometimes that doesn’t matter.”
