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Drunk and Sleepy

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Ben’s favorite part of a party is when everyone leaves. At least, it is when he’s the host. When he isn’t hosting, his favorite part is probably still leaving, but he makes it his mission to leave first. All he has to do is look at his girlfriend and she knows it’s time to leave.

Usually, Rey wants to go, too. That’s the beauty of two introverts being a couple, he thinks. They both like being the first people to leave a party.

When they’re hosting, though, like now, they tend to just collapse on their couch after. It’s honestly one of his favorite things about their relationship—post-party snuggles where they’re in varying stages of sobriety and completely tangled in each other. They may both be tired of social interaction and physical contact, but not with each other. She’s his person; she’ll always be welcome in his arms and he’ll always be welcome in hers.

Always. Forever. He knows this like he knows the best of his heart—he isn’t going to find anyone else. There’s not another person out there in the world for him because she’s it. They’ve been together for three years now, and those three years have been the most peaceful of his life. It’s the years they’ve spent together that makes his currently drunk brain think he ought to start looking into what ring to buy her, but he can’t think about it too hard right now.

He’s too dizzy from all the hunch punch to think of anything but kissing her. It’s also dark as hell, the lights have shut off per their request to the last person out the door, and that further hinders his brain’s inability to think of anything beyond the feeling of her lips against his.

Not that he wants to think about anything else.

From their first kiss outside of the coffee shop she worked at in college to right now, he’s never grown tired of it. She’s like magic to him, a spell he’s fallen under, and he’ll lazily make out with her for hours if she’ll let him—if she wants him to.

Rey hums against his lips, one of her palms caressing his cheek as she rolls him back onto the couch, her body pressing into his as he tilts his head back, allowing her to deepen their kiss. His body ignites from the rush it gives him, his hands wrapping around her waist as he tethers himself to reality. Yes, he wants to get lost in the stars he sees when his brain is this deprived of oxygen, but he needs to remember to breathe eventually.

At some point, she must have the same concern, for she pulls back, smiling at him for a couple of seconds before she begins pressing kisses on the sides of his face. “Mmm, you taste like fruit punch,” she whispers as her kisses descend lazily onto his neck, causing him to chuckle.

“I did drink a lot of it.” Normally he’d wince at how much his voice slurs, but he’s honestly just impressed he got the words out at all as Rey’s lips ghost over his pulse point. “So did you.”

“And what do I taste like?” It’s whispered against his chin, the last two words ghosting over his bottom lip before he grins against her, kissing her again in that slow, lazy way he loves so much.

He thinks for a second as she pulls away, barely able to remember the question as one of his hands slides down to rest on the curve of her ass. “Cinnamon whiskey, like Fireball.”

“And do you like it?”

“I love it.” Another kiss, this one accompanied by his hand squeezing the left cheek of her ass ever so slightly as he tugs her closer, not caring that there is no longer any space between them. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She pulls back, resting her forehead against his as she pants softly, air breezing over his skin as she rests her other hand on the cheek she’d neglected earlier. “I…” A laugh escapes her, helpless and oh, so intoxicated sounding. “I am so drunk.”

“Me too.”

“I can’t remember the last time I was this drunk.”

“Neither can I.”

“I had something I wanted to say to you, but I forgot.”

He chuckles, his arms tightening around her waist as he rolls them over onto their sides, their bodies nestled in the space between the seat and rear of the couch. “Well, that’s a shame.”

“I hate forgetting things when I just thought of them three seconds ago,” she mutters, burying her face in his neck. “Especially when I’m this drunk.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll remember it eventually.”

“You think? I won’t spend the rest of my life just wondering?” she asks, and he grins against the side of her head as he presses a kiss there. “Ben?”

He shakes his head. “You won’t.” A yawn falls from his lips. “I think you should spend the rest of your life with me instead. That way I can help you remember.”

Tiny giggles vibrate against his neck, then she lifts her head, and in spite of the dark, he can see the cute little worry lines creasing her brow. “The rest of my life?” she whispers softly, her voice barely audible.

“If you want.” He shrugs, then he pulls her in for another kiss, both of them moaning softly as they find their rhythm, settling into it for a good, long while. Their lungs have had some time to calm down, their bodies have grown no less drunk, but now they’re used to the feeling, now they can process the conversation and what they’re saying, and so when Rey pulls away, he knows what she’s going to say to him, how she’s going to respond to his suggestion.

“Care to elaborate on that?”

He just grins as he cups her jaw with one hand, tapping their foreheads together as gently as he can. “You know.” His lips brush gently against the tip of her nose. “Marry me.”

“You really want to ask me that now? Drunk as I am?”

More giggles spill from his lips, then he brushes a piece of her hair back behind her ear, his hand resting on her cheek. “Do you want to?”

There’s the briefest pause, then she nods beneath his palm, dimples forming on her cheeks as she smiles. “Yes,” she whispers. “Absolutely, I—“ Breathless laughter. “That’s what I wanted to ask you, actually.”

“You really wanted to ask me now?” He slurs her words back at her, causing her to grumble quietly under her breath. “Drunk as I am?”

Giving him another nod, she falls quiet, the dimples of her smile fading as her entire body relaxes. “Do you think we’ll remember this in the morning? Should we have waited?”

“Rey I’ve known I wanted to marry you for months.” His fingers begin stroking her hair, his kisses finding their way all over his face as he assures her just how much he wants this, how much he wants her. “I won’t forget.”

She yawns. “So we can sleep? And in the morning we’ll get rings?”

“You can wear my grandmother’s,” he confirms, then he presses one final kiss to her forehead. “Go to sleep, Rey.”

Another yawn, then she slings an arm limply around his waist. “Goodnight, Ben.” Then his fiancé’s eyes close, and she falls slowly into the quiet peace of sleep.

He follows close behind, his body limp and heavy from exhaustion and alcohol. Slowly, his breathing begins to even out, erasing the slight fear in his mind that he won’t remember his proposal, that he’ll forget this sweet moment he’s had with Rey, and he falls into a sleep deeper than any he’s had before… One where he dreams of a diamond ring and white gown, where he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that neither of them will ever forget.