#shoutout to drunk me on champagne for being the inspiration for this drabble

[laineyswilson]

“That fiancée of yours must be really lucky/happy”

He watches her carefully from across the room as she leans against the bar waiting for her drink as she makes small talk with the bartender, her smile brighter than any sun or moon could ever shine. He could count on his hands the amount of times Fallon’s let herself drink enough to the point of letting loose; she liked to be in control, always, and she had a way of never letting it get to the point where she wasn’t in control of her own thoughts or actions.

He sees the champagne flute slide across the bar top to her as she lets it slip between her two fingers and rest against the palm of her hand, her eyes gleaming in the soft yellow lighting as she makes her way back to him in her little black dress and stark white heels. He can see in her glossy eyes that she’s had enough to drink to the point that she’s feeling really good about everything and is definitely a little buzzed, more so than she usually is.

It makes his heart swell a little that she’s feeling happy and relaxed enough right now to let herself do this, that she’s not stressed and anxious enough to be worrying about the hundreds of other things going on in their lives, that she just wants to have a good time. 

She shimmies her way up to him, glass of bubbling champagne being carefully balanced in her left hand; he can feel her breath against him when she whispers, albeit slurs her words against his ear, “You’re pretty hot. Can I take you home?”

He can only grin in her direction because for one, they are home, but he doesn’t feel the need to correct her on that just yet. And two, he can actually smell the alcohol she’s consumed on her breath, which makes him wonder if she’s snuck a few extra glasses of champagne in when he wasn’t paying attention.

How many glasses has she had now exactly? 

“Sorry, no can do,” he says as she leans in against him, her frame pushing against him for support, unable to stand up completely on her own accord. She instinctively curls herself around him, head resting against his shoulder, tucking it into the warm crevice of his neck as he winds his arm around her back to hold her firmly against her waist. “I’ve got a fiancée.”

“What?” The absolute defeat that comes out of her surprises him, the whiny tone she seems to take on makes him wonder - she’s either doing a hell of a good job at flirting with him, or she really has had way too much to drink. “That fiancée of yours must be really lucky.”

God, how much did she drink?

“You’d have to ask her that.”

“Well, where is she?”

She tilts the flute up against her slips, letting the carbonation flow right into her, finishing off what he thought was glass number four, but is now wondering if it’s more like glass number six. Her glass is empty in no time again, when a waiter comes around their corner offering her another one, and she happily places her hand against the filled glass on the man’s tray, but Liam knows he has to step in at this point. 

Or else he was going to have a hell of a hungover Fallon on his hands tomorrow morning.

“Alright, that’s enough for you,” he says, grabbing the flute from her and placing it right back against the black tray. The waiter gets the hint and takes off in a new direction, finding new people to hand a beverage to. 

“What? Why?”

“You’re done for the night.”

“No! I’m fine,” she rebuttals, her right hand holding tight against his shoulder, barely able to balance herself on her two feet. “Just one more, please.”

His hand slides down her opposite arm, tangling his fingers with hers muttering, “Let’s get you up to bed.”

He tugs her along and she goes without a complaint, just lets him pull her up the staircase as she leans against his upper arm on the way to her bedroom. 

It’s not until after they’ve got their pajamas on and are relaxed against her expensive white sheets, her head resting against his chest comfortably, arm lazily placed across his chest and holding onto his hand tightly. He takes to rubbing small circles against her back, trying to do anything and everything he can to stop the room from spinning like he knows it is for her right now (he already made her take a pain killer for the headache she’s bound to have in the morning), and he’s pretty sure he feels her eyes start to close against him, certain she’s well on her way to slumber when she speaks up again. 

“Liam?”

He loved these moments with her; he loved all moments with her really, but he loved how different she was when it was just the two of them; that she trusted him enough to let him see the real her, that she let him see what was underneath her hard exterior. Her dreams and her feelings and her fears; it wasn’t something he took lightly and it wasn’t something he ever would.

He presses his lips against her forehead in a lingering kiss, “Hmm?”

“Your fiancée is really lucky,” she says softly. “And she’s really happy, too.”