Drake keeps track of how much they're drinking, moderating his own intake a little more strictly than he normally might just to be certain he doesn't wind up actually drunk himself. By the time they settle on a low couch in the bar with live music, Jesus is six deep while Drake's still on his third, only gently buzzed since he had a water at the last place.

That's the point of all this, though. When he said he was down for a night out where Jesus could get as wasted as he liked but still feel safe? He meant it. Drake isn't going to let anything happen to him, and while his designation and bulk would probably be enough to keep them from being hassled, he's not taking chances. Not when Jesus is trusting him like this.

He doesn't object to the other man climbing into his lap, blocking out the already dim bar lighting and his view of the stage. Just kisses back, hands skimming up Jesus' sides in a playful caress before wrapping both arms around him. Unsurprisingly, Jesus has been an adorable drunk. Flushed and enthusiastic but not clumsy just yet? Drake kisses him back and then looks up at him with a soft, fond smile.

"How are you feeling, babe?"