So this little fluffball came after a phone call with an old friend whose boyfriend came home unexpectedly drunk on Monday night after accidentally having too much whiskey. It happens to all of us at some point. That convo sparked this gloriously fluffy little fic.

Usually I edit the shit out of things for at least a week but I feel like sending this one out into the world even though its a bit raw. So hope y'all enjoy.

Title : Drunk (yeah, creative I know)
Author : Dani Kin
Word Count : 2,400
Rating : PG-13ish
Summary : Roxanne takes care of her boyfriend when he has a bit too much to drink. Curse you appletinis!
Genre : This is some super romantic fluffy comfort shit. I usually don't read or write in this genre so hope it doesn't suck.

"I don't feel good," Megamind mumbled, his head in Roxanne's lap as he laid across the backseat of the cab.

"I can see that love." She said softly, stroking his beautiful blue head. His skin was clammy. "I warned you to go easy on those fruity drinks," He gave a low and uncomfortable moan and clutched his stomach.

"I've never had that much alcohol before," he said with a low whine. His head was swimming and he strongly regretted telling Minion it was ok to stay home tonight. He had planned to spend the night at Roxanne's place and he hated to treat Minion like a chauffeur. But now he wished that the fish was here. He was a good minion and always took good care of him when he was sick, just like his parents said he would.

"My poor boy," she took one of his hands in hers and laced their fingers together. "I should have figured. I should have payed closer attention to what you were drinking".

"No. 't's not your fault." He mumbled. "What was the green one again?"

"Appletini."

"Curse you appletini," he murmered as the cab pulled to a stop in front of Roxanne's building.

"Can you sit up sweetie?" she asked softly and he pulled himself up into a sitting position, although the motion increased his dizziness. Roxanne leaned forward and paid the driver, got out of the cab, and came around to the other side. She opened the door and extended both hands out to her poor drunk alien boyfriend. He took them and she helped pull him out of the cab and into a standing position. He swayed and she wrapped an arm around his waist and led him to the door.

Carlos saw them coming and opened the door for the couple. Roxanne nodded at him and helped Megamind into the front entrance and across the lobby. They got on the elevator and she pressed the button for floor 22. Meanwhile he leaned back against the elevator wall, hands gripping the brass bar as the numbers slowly ticked up.

"Roxanne I don't feel good. I think I'm going to be sick," he looked at her and she could see that his blue skin was getting paler.

"We're almost up. Do you think you can make it?" she asked, concerned that he might actually fall over or throw up in the elevator. It wouldn't be the first time it had happened in the building, but she knew he would be embarrassed tomorrow if that were the case. She started rummaging through her purse for her keys.

"I dunno," he said weakly, closing his eyes. It was taking all of his considerable mental prowess not to just fall onto the floor and the sloshing feeling in his stomach wasn't helping.

He was still squinting them shut when the elevator bell announced their destined floor. She put her arm back around his waist and he leaned hard against her. She stumbled back a bit but was able to support his weight. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and she lead him to her door. She quickly unlocked the door and they rushed in. He made a stumbly beeline for her downstairs bathroom as she set her purse down on the island and slipped off her heels. Then she followed him.

He was leaning against her bathroom vanity, head down staring at the sink, bracing himself with both hands. She touched his back gently.

"How you doin'?" she asked.

"This is so undignified," he whined in reply. "This is completely unbecoming a superhero or supervillian"

"That's not what I asked love," she responded pointedly, continuing to stroke gentle circles on his back over the skintight black body suit. She watched his face in the mirror. "And I've seen you in plenty of undignified situations. Remember the arachniths deathicus incident?"

He gave her a weak smile, then his face melted into one of panic and he lunged for the toilet just in time to throw up violently into the bowl. She felt bad for him as he vomited, clearly miserable. She filled the glass on the vanity with water and waited for the worst to subside. When he had clearly slowed she approached him again and stroked his head gently as he rested his chin on her toilet seat.

"When you feel a bit better I want you to drink this water," she crouched and set the glass down on the floor. He looked at her skeptically, still squatting beside him. His throat burned and he was sweating profusely.

"I don't want to drink anything ever again."

"I understand," she said, resuming the reassuring motion of softly rubbing his back. "But I don't want you to get dehydrated and the water will really help".

"You should just get my De-gun and shoot me," he mumbled back.

"Ok. What setting should I use?" she teased sweetly. "I'm thinking decoupage." He gave her a weak smile again, and took a tiny sip of the water, then another. When he had finished about half the glass, he set it down and stared into the contents of the toilet bowl. He flushed the toilet before the smells of his own vomit could make him more nauseated.

"This is so gross. I am so sorry." She couldn't tell how much of the flush on his face was from embarrassment and how much was from being sick.

"Hey don't beat yourself up," she rushed, cutting him off before he could obsess over his guilt the way he sometimes did. "It's happened to all of us at some point. "

"Really?" he asked with a weak hope.

"Yep. You should have seen me after this crazy party in college. That's when I learned that orange soda, tequila, and Nacho Cheesier Doritos are unmixy things." She shuddered at the memory. He watched her, still looking embarrassed but slightly less so. Then he leaned back over the toilet and threw up a little more. He was heartened to see that this time it was mostly water.

She stood up and opened a drawer and took out a soft wash cloth and dabbed at the sweat on his large forehead and the watery tears at the corners of his eyes. He closed his eyes and let her take care of him. He was still erratically nauseous but he felt better knowing that most of the alcohol wasn't sloshing around in his stomach. Then she wet the cloth in the sink and sat down next to him on the floor, slowly cleaning his face and neck. The cool clean cloth felt so good on his flushed skin and he sighed with relief. She wiped the little bits of spit out of the corners of his mouth and made sure his goatee was clean as well.

"I want you to finish your water my love" she said softly to him, kissing him on his forehead as she stood up to rinse the cloth. He took the glass in his hands and slowly swallowed every last drop. He could feel the mental fog of alcohol begin to receed and he contemplated getting up. He still felt weak but he didn't feel paralyzed by nausea any more. However the idea of getting from sitting on the floor to standing was a bit overwhelming.

"Can you help me up?" he asked Roxanne, and she swore he sounded shy about it. She looked down at her poor blue boyfriend in a puddle on the floor and smiled at him.

"Of course sweetie." She extended both hands down to him and he took them in his. She helped pull him up off the floor and into a standing position. He swayed for a moment and then leaned his forehead against hers. She leaned into him and laced their fingers together.

"Let's take you upstairs and lay down," she suggested. He nodded and she dropped one hand, holding the other to lead him out of the bathroom and up the stairs that lead up to her master bedroom. She was impressed at his ability to stay stable on his feet, though he was gripping the banister something fierce. Once she got him upstairs she lead him to the edge of the bed and steered him to sit down. He sighed, clearly grateful to be still and not using all his energy to stand.

She knelt down and started to take off his boots. He helped, though mostly helping was just weakly lifting a foot when she needed to side it off. Once the boots were gone, she pulled of his thin black socks and resisted the urge to kiss his long blue toes. Instead she stood and started to work on the buckles on his gloves He sat there, staring at her with squinting eyes before speaking.

"You are so good to me," his voice full of emotion. She looked surprised.

"I don't think I'm doing anything more than any half-decent girlfriend would," she said bemused as she pulled the left glove off and started in on the right buckle. Once that glove was off she crossed the room and grabbed the small black duffle bag he had brought over before the party. She unzipped it and set a familiar pair of pajamas with hazard signs next to him on the bed.

"Can you stand up by yourself or do you need help?" she asked him. He stood somewhat painfully and turned around so she could reach the zipper at the back of his body suit. She unzipped it, slowly exposing the blue skin of his back. She gave him a tiny sweet kiss on his back before gesturing for him to turn around again.

He stood facing her and she peeled the sweaty suit down his front. It didn't come all the way down his left arm and he pulled it the rest of the way off himself. He was feeling markedly better now that he had thrown up, but he couldn't deny that his head would feel much better if he was lying down.

And Roxanne was glad to see him moving around more, even though he looked completely exhausted. Once the suit was off his top she knelt and pulled it the rest of the way down to his toes. He picked up each foot slowly and soon he was standing there in nothing but his black boxer briefs. Even though this wasn't the first time she had seen him in his underwear (or even less), he still blushed. She didn't notice since she was reaching for the pajama pants on the bed and threading them on her hands. She put them down by his feet and he stepped into them. She pulled them all the way up to his waist as she stood and tied the drawstrings in a little bow. He gently placed his hands at her waist and she looked into his eyes.

"I want to kiss you but I'm afraid my breath is disgusting," he confessed. She smiled and kissed his cheek instead.

"Why don't we get the rest of your pj's on and then you can brush your teeth?" she offered and he nodded. She reached for the pajama tops and he threaded each arm through them.

"Do you want them buttoned up or are you too warm?" she asked.

"Leave it unbuttoned for now," he replied nodding, then instantly regretted it. She saw the look of pain flicker across his face, and kissed his forehead.

"Go brush your teeth drunk boy," she teased and he walked by himself into the master bath. He winced a bit at the bright array of vanity lights as his head swam. But then he picked his toothbrush off the counter where it rested right next to hers and examined himself in the mirror as he brushed his teeth. A part of him still couldn't believe this was real. Couldn't believe that he kept a toothbrush at Roxanne's. Couldn't believe that he got drunk and threw up in front of her. Couldn't believe that she hadn't gotten mad but instead was taking care of him like this. He was lucky beyond words to have her.

When he came back into the bedroom he found the lights dimmed, the bed turned down, and Roxanne in the short peach nightgown that she knew was his favorite, laying in bed waiting for him. Part of his brain recognized that if he didn't feel so damn awful that this would be sexy as hell. But as it was he just crawled into bed and into her waiting arms. Their lips met in a sweet kiss and she curled her arms around him.

When their lips parted and she pulled his head into her, his cheek resting on her beautiful soft breast. The cool softness of the silk nightie felt so good against his bare chest and he wrapped one arm around her waist. He let out a contented sigh as she kissed his forehead and snuggled his thin body against her curvy one. He wanted to relax all the way into her arms but something was still bothering him.

"I'm sorry I made you leave the party early," he said nervously. She gave a tiny sleepy snort.

"I don't care about that. I'm just glad you're ok." She responded.

"You were right about the fruity drinks. They are deceptive," he confessed.

"You were nervous. It's really ok," she said gently, stroking his bald head.

There was a long pause and then he spoke again, softly.

"Did I embarrass you?" he asked, sounding ashamed. She immediately shifted her position to look down at his face, lined with worry.

"No baby. You didn't do anything wrong," she shook her head and met his eyes with hers. "These political functions are always boring and you made it a bit more interesting. And I don't think anyone but me knew you were drunk. I think they just thought you were excited." He gave a sigh of relief and snuggled back into her chest. There was another long pause and then he spoke again.

"No one but Minion has ever taken care of me like this. I just don't know how to thank you," he said, voice full of genuine affection.

"You don't need to do anything. I don't mind taking care of you when you need me. I love you silly boy," she nuzzled his forehead as she spoke.

"I love you too Roxanne." He responded and yawned. She was so warm and close and he finally relaxed fully. Before he knew it, he was almost asleep and Roxanne was reaching to turn off the lamp on her side table.

"Good night Roxann,e" he whispered to her in the dark as they resettled back in place.

"Night Megs," she whispered back.