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Sprout wakes up.
It’s not uncommon for him to wake up in the middle of the night—bless Astro’s heart, it’s not something he can actually control. He has a dry throat, and his mouth tastes disgusting.
He lays on his bed for five more minutes, attempting to ignore it.
Sprout tosses his blanket and sits up. He yawns before going to his door and opening it. His shirt slightly droops off shoulder and his shorts are a size to big.
The door creaks open.
He wants to go to the big kitchen—his kitchen, technically. It was mad to be his own part of Gardenview, every main had one. He also liked being able to see the sky, when the windows were clear.
The elevator scrapes to the top, it feels slower, but everything does at night.
He walks the four steps to the massive pink and green doors.
…
and they’re open?
It confuses him, but sometimes Cosmo bakes in the big kitchen too. He prefers it on occasion. Some toons come in there to get snacks or try to make something on their own. Maybe they just left the door open.
He still feels uneasy as he goes in.
Everything looks normal, as the temperature changes to be a bit cooler due to the moon. He takes a moment.
The entire corner was a massive piece of glass, high above the sky since his kitchen was on the highest level. He smiles, as it’s a soothing sight.
Sprout finally makes his way to the kitchen, one soft and slow step after another.
He pauses after he hears a sound. A giggle, or something similar to the sound. Maybe a hiccup or a sneeze? He continues to walk, but he is now annoyed at the thought of someone being sick in his kitchen.
He rounds the corner of the wall, and is met with something far worse.
Looey is facing backwards, leaning on the counter, facing near the massive window-wall, and clear as day a bottle (that most certainly isn’t water or a soda) in his hand.
Sprout blinks, and Looey doesn’t notice him.
At least not at first. Looey tries to spin around to take another drink, but it clinks on the counter and he almost drops it. He giggles, and takes a sip, and then he finally sees Sprout.
“Sppprout! Sprout! Buddy—didn’t uh—see you there!” Looey smiles, or at least tries to. It’s a little to crooked and a little to bright, “Hii! Didn’t—see ya’ there!”
He attempts to wave, but misjudges the height and nearly hits his forehead. He takes another sip. He laughs at himself, but it sounds more like a snort. Sprout looks at the bottle then back at Looey, a confused look on his face.
“This-this—okay… it is what it looks like but I’m fiiiiiine… okay?” He starts. He hides the bottle behind his back, only to take another sip and hold it on the counter.
“How long have you been up here drinking?”
“Not long—maybe an hour or twooooo…?” He talks like he’s asking the question instead of Sprout.
“You need water,” Sprout says, leaving (hopefully) no room for debate.
He’s never taken care of someone drunk, but he knows some of the other toons have before, and sometimes handlers would drink on the job. He goes to the cabinets and grabs a plastic cup.
“Nooooo…” Looey wines, and his tails and ears all droop to the floor, “I’m fiiiiiiiiiiine,”
“Are you?”
“Yes!” Looey squawks. He attempts to walk forward, trips on air, and catches himself on the island, “that was for…. uhhhhhh… flair….. I’m fffffffiiiiiiiiiiiiine… you’re not mad at meeeeeee? Right…?” He smiles awkwardly and half-hazardly, and his words start to slur more as he looks up at Sprout from his leaned over position, “what were we talking about again?”
“No, Looey, I’m not,” he says, letting the clink of the ice fill the background noise, “water.”
“Noooooooo….” he wines, as a glass of water is set in front of him.
“Drink, please,”
“But I gots a drink alreaaaaadyyyyy…” He taps his glass down on the island, which Sprout promptly takes from him.
“H-hey—! That’s mine!” he complains, stumbling after it, but failing to maneuver past the corner of the island, “Sprout! Sprout, buddy, pal, friendo—return the—return the… thing! The drinky thing!”
“How many have you had?” He speaks firmly has a leaf falls in his face, having to hold it above his head. If he knew he was going to have to do this he would've grabbed his kerchief.
“Like one or siiiiiiiiix…” he mopes, as he looks away.
“Six!?” Sprout exclaims. Six doesn’t seem like a lot, but based on experiences he’d heard from others, that sounds like two too many to be fine.
“’M sorry I was thiirsty!” He whines, reaching for the drink out of Sprouts hand, “can I have it back…? Pretty pleage—please!”
“If you’re thirsty then you can drink water,” Sprout says. He is grateful that he’s taller than Looey, if only by a few inches, “you don’t need… whatever drink this is,”
“Psh—I dooooo…!” He giggles, still latched on Sprout attempting to get his drink back.
“You don’t,” Sprout corrects. He’s still holding it higher than Looey can reach, but he thinks if he showed any more resilience, Looey would topple over, “please drink the water,”
“But water is booooooooriiiiing…” He whines again, and Sprout can’t help but feel bad, “water is like… uh… a sad clown,”
“Looey,” he says again, firmer.
Looey gets off him (or tries too) and falls, catching himself on the kitchen island again. His ears pin behind his head as he looks up at Sprout.
“The rooms mooooviiiiiiiin…” he complains, “makes me feel like I’m gon’ puke,”
“Please don’t…” Sprout says, finally going over to the sink, “please, Looey,”
“Ffffffine!” He complains, making a very big show of drinking a very tiny sip. Sprout rolls his eyes, but smiles anyway.
Sprout thinks for a moment—to throw it away or put it up? Wasting wouldn’t be very good—he hates the thought of wasting anything, but would it be wasting if it was something genuinely bad for someone?
He places it in the sink. That’s a problem to deal with after he makes sure Looey gets back to his room safely.
“Don’t pour it out!” Looey whines, “I’m gonna finish that!”
“First of all—I’m not pouring it out,” not yet, he bites his tongue, “second of all, no your not.”
“Yesh. Yesh—yes I am,” it takes him a moment to say the word correctly, but he does.
Sprout stares, and Looeys tail points down and his ears pin to his back again. He looks to the side and… guilty. Sprout can’t help but feel bad, more than he already did.
“Looey I’m not mad—no, I love you, but you don’t need anymore,” he walks back over to Looey, “do you wanna go to bed?”
"Noooooooo…” he whines, but thankfully he takes another sip of water, “’m thirsty,”
Spout smiles—he’s tired, but he’s not gonna leave until he knows Looey is back in his room.
“C’mon, you’ll feel better after you rest, alright?”
“… okay,” Looey says, looking away, but attempting to walk with Sprout.
He stumbles, and falls into one of decorative fake bushes (with an incredibly loud laugh—but it got Sprout laughing too), but is able to make it to his room with Sprout’s help. A lot of his help, and Sprout can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if he wasn’t here to help.
They both approach his room, and Looey stops him.
“Sppprout,” he says. Sprout opens his door and slightly herds the balloon animal inside.
“Hm?”
“Don’t tell anyyyyyyyyyoooooone about... uhh... tonight…! okay?” He sounds more tired now, but the drunkenness is still evident in his voice, “like… not even Yatta or Blot!"
Sprout smiles, he sounds jaw-dropped when he says Blot’s name.
“I won’t.”
“Okay! Thhhhh… thank you!”
Sprout guides Looey to his bed, and stays until Looey is snoring. Which doesn’t take long, considering he’s snoring within less than five minutes, sprawled out like a dead man.