Matt/Foggy, "No, you don't get a choice"
"Wait a minute," Matt protested, cringing at the horrible scent wafting out of the shot glass. "This is cruel and unusual punishment, counsellor."
He could hear the smirk in Foggy's voice. "Oh no, you do not get to play that card, buddy. You know what was cruel and unusual? You sexiling me on a Tuesday night before I had an exam. I ended up at Lenny's Taqueria at 3am, Matt. Lenny's. Taqueria," he repeated, emphasizing each word by tapping his finger on the table. "You know who's at Lenny's Taqueria at 3am on a weeknight? Wasted underclassmen. You know who's not usually at Lenny's Taqueria at 3am on a weeknight? Law students who actually want to pass the bar sometime in the next decade." Foggy's chair squeaked as he leaned back in it, probably crossing his arms. "This, my good friend, is what we in the legal profession call 'payback.'"
"No we don't," Matt shot back. He grimaced and brought the shot glass closer to his nose. "Can't I make it up to you some other way? Give you her number? Carry your books? Anything?"
Foggy shook his head, causing his hair to brush against the collar of his shirt. "Nope, you do not get a choice here, buddy. As the wronged party, I make the rules."
"You're the worst," Matt muttered. "Fine." He took a deep breath through his mouth and threw back the shot, breathing out through his nose as soon as he swallowed. Before he could register the absolutely vile taste, he followed up with a long swig of his beer. "I hate you so much right now," he coughed.
"You love me," Foggy said, voice light and happy in a way that warmed Matt down to his toes. "Next round's on you, and we'll call it even."
Matt grinned. "Deal."