Phil

Dan said alcohol was all we needed.

The plan was to get a little tipsy and cuddle on the couch watching bad movies. That had actually sounded like a really good night, and I was looking forward to it. When Dan came back from the shop with a lot of alcohol, I'd started to worry that he was going to go beyond tipsy. But I wanted him to have fun, however he planned to do so, so I didn't say anything against it –at first.

I watched as Dan drank more than his fair share, but he had convinced himself that we both needed to loosen up, in the safety of our own home where there would be no risk of public stupid behavior. He tried to get me to drink some more than just one beer, too, but I didn't want to get sloppy or stupid. Besides, he was doing enough "loosening up" for the both of us.

He was poking around through different beverages; two beers, a glass of wine, the equivalent of three shots of vodka or more. I wanted to tell him to take it easy, reminding him that if he passed out, I wouldn't be able to call an ambulance, but he said I shouldn't worry so much.

Dan never drank like this; I was honestly terrified that he really might drink himself sick and pass out, start vomiting and choking to death. If anything like that happened, all I would be able to do would be to scream and pray someone would hear and call 999 or come help or something. I kept both eyes on him, ready and willing to tell him to stop if he got too drunk, threaten to break up with him if it meant he'd be healthy and safe.

I had no idea why he was doing this, and it just made me worry more. I know that a lot of people drink to forget their troubles; what could Dan be so troubled by? I had to know, but I'd never get a straight answer out of him when he was this inebriated.

"I think you've had enough, babe." I wanted to physically take the drink out of his hand. He at least obliged, if only for a little while.

"Anything for you, sweet cheeks," he slurred, sitting next to me on the sofa and splaying his hand out on my thigh. I remembered his videos on the five kinds of drunk people: he definitely fit the "sexual predator drunk" the best. He was an intoxicated horndog, and honestly I was in no mood for sex when he was this out of it. I wanted to nudge the hand away, then somehow thought I could telekinetically will it off.

But then his fingers were skating up my legs, running over my jeans. "No, Dan," I told him firmly, giving him a hard stare so he'd get the idea. He didn't move and I wanted to shout at him, but his lips pressed hard to mine. He tasted like liquor and I really didn't like it. I managed to push him away, almost head-butting him in the process. "Dan, you need to stop. I think it's time for bed."

"You hate me, don't you?" He glared at me with apparent hurt in his eyes. Where the hell did that come from?

"No, of course I don't hate you; I love you, you ass." I wanted to peck his lips for reassurance, but that probably wouldn't be the best thing to do when all he wanted to do just a moment ago was get into my pants. "But you're really drunk right now and you won't remember anything in the morning. I'm still pretty sore and don't want to have sex tonight. I think it'll be best if we just go to bed. You can sleep it off and maybe when you wake up with a hangover, I'll go easy on you." I smiled at him, joking in hopes it would get him to smile too. It worked, and it was sloppy but one of his amazing real smiles that I just loved. He really shined so bright when he was genuinely happy; I wish he'd let it show more often.

He rubbed my shoulder absently, and I leaned my head over to nuzzle against the back of his hand. I craved his touch now as much as ever, but those sweet touches that just spoke love rather than lust.

"Okay, we can sleep…" He sounded tired, too. He was too drunk and sleepy to get the both of us back to the bedroom, but he managed to maneuver me to lie down on the couch, and he collapsed on top of me. He even took my arms to wrap around himself, which was just too cute, honestly. He yawned a goodnight and laid his head on my chest as he drifted off to sleep. I smiled and kissed the top of his head, planning how I would tauntingly torture him and his inevitable headache in the morning.