Steve Rogers Imagines

Drunk In Love

"Me," you joke, raising your glass as well.

He clinks his glass against yours. "Fine. A toast to my girl. Also known as y/n. Also known as my lovely, beautiful girlfriend."

The two of you simultaneously tilt your heads back to take your shots, and you can't help the squint of your eyes as the alcohol slides down your throat. Chris was right. You did like Malibu because it didn't have as much of a sharp burn as some other things you'd tasted. But still, it was there. You wish you'd ordered a chaser.

Chris gulps down his shot and grins triumphantly at you, blowing out all the air he'd been holding in. You let out a little cough to try and ease the burn and he laughs, leaning closer to you. "I love you so much," he says, his face merely a few inches away from yours now. You purse your lips together, trying not to completely laugh in his face at how cute he was being. Drunk Chris was very sensitive. He could always tell when you were upset with him, or making fun of him. And even if you weren't, one simple, thoughtless comment could have him pouting for the rest of the night.

His lips are slightly parted and wet, and you can smell the cinnamon on his breath. With your thumb, you reach up to wipe away a tiny drop of alcohol from the corner of his mouth. You bring it up to your own tongue to taste, and his eyes brighten. "You like it?"

You take a few seconds to answer, licking your lip. "It's not bad. I used to drink this a lot. But honestly, Chris, I can't really taste it."

"Well that's because you barely had any, silly. I can get you a shot of it, if ya want!" He stands up straighter, turning to get the bartender's attention once more, but you stop him.

"No, no. That's okay. I think I've had enough for the night. And you have, too."

He grins, putting his hands on your hips and pulling you closer to him. "Nuh uh," he whines, pushing your foreheads together. It's obvious that he's really feeling the alcohol at this point. He would never be this touchy-feely in public if he were sober. Of course, you weren't complaining. You loved when Chris was this way. Drunk, cuddly, clingy Chris was one of your most favourite versions of your boyfriend. In fact, it could get annoying how cuddly he could be sometimes. But you never minded. Nor could you ever stay annoyed for long when you saw the dopey grin on his face and felt his long fingers tangle in your hair or touch every visible inch of your skin just because he wanted to be touching you in any way he could. Normally you would be all for this, using every last bit of it to your advantage. But, as it is, it's late and you're getting sleepy. You'd both had a long day, and no matter how many times you'd flown out to London to see him, you would never quite get used to this time difference thing.

You let out a contented sigh; pulling away and tilting your head back to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. "I think we should head back to the hotel soon," you say, running your fingers through his once combed hair, now a bit messy and sweaty and deflated.

A cheeky grin spreads across his face once again. "Yeah? What should we do once we're there?" He wiggles his eyebrows-or at least attempts to wiggle them, leaning even closer to your face.

You giggle, leaning away from him. "We should go to sleep, Chris. It's late and I'm tired."

"Well, that's okay. You don't even have to do any of the work. Tonight can be all about making you feel good." He presses a sloppy kiss to your ear, which you can only assume was supposed to be your neck.

You giggle. "Well, we'll see how you're feeling once we get back, yeah?" You interlace your fingers with his and he smiles down at you.

"I see what you're doing here," he slurs. "You think just because I'm drunk I'm gonna be tired and forget. But I'm not. I'm not gonna forget. Gonna make you feel good." He leans towards you again to try and kiss your neck one more time.