[The way Steve touches him has him faltering if only slightly. Hard to task out his attentions while he's still drunk. Doesn't come as fluid as it usually does. But he tries to get a hold of himself, tries to also listen to what Steve's saying.]

Mostly. After I stopped being late. Which you're well within your rights to be mad about, you know.

[Because it's how it always is. Things get planned and he loses track of time or people take it from him and he can't get away. It's not that things aren't important, it's just so easy for him to get lost and buried underneath work that feels all consuming and important in the moment.

He rests his forehead against Steve's, still half kneeled over him, one hand in the bed, as his next slow shift inward he adds a third digit. And that look Steve's suddenly giving him makes him feel like he might melt into a puddle atop him.]

What- get drunk at parties together? [Grinning a little where he can't help it.] Leave when everyone has had enough of us canoodling and have sex? You won't find me disagreeing with the idea.

[Sounds like a very perfect night. Has been so far. Will continue to be for as long as they carry on, he's certain.]