Word Count: 951
Fandom: X-Men
Pairing: Hank McCoy x Reader
Request(s): None
Warning(s): None
A/N: Hope you like it!
"Oh my god, look! A puppy!"
"(Y/N), that's a fire hydrant," Hank sighed, grabbing her shoulders and redirecting her towards the mansion. "Come along, we're almost home."
"What are you talking about? We're nowhere near home, silly. We're in New York!" Her words slurred together as she stumbled forward, tripping over non-existent pieces of rubble in the street. He just chuckled to himself and steadied her, keeping her upright.
"Remind me not to let you drink ever again, okay?" He shook his head. Apparently, a night out with friends is equal to getting blackout drunk on shots of tequila and margaritas.
"Oh, c'mon Hank, you're no fun," (Y/N) hiccuped. He led her to the front door and helped her climb the steps into the house. He brought her up the staircase and around the corner to his bedroom. There was no way he was leaving her all alone in her own room. She could spend the night with him then go on her way in the morning when she was sober.
"Has anyone ever told you that you're a real handful when drunk?" He asked, turning to face her as he closed his door behind them.
"Has anyone ever told you that you're really cute when flustered?" She countered, moving closer to him, backing him up against the wall.
"Stop. You don't know what you're doing. You're hammered," Hank said in hopes of getting away.
"This is very clearly true," she mumbled, leaning closer once more. She smiled and pressed her lips against his. She tasted like alcohol and strawberries. She combed her fingers through his hair, keeping him in her control. He stopped resisting and resorted to trying to talk her out of it in between kisses as she drew in quick breaths.
"You don't want this," he mumbled.
"Yes I do," she countered.
"You're my best friend. We shouldn't," he tried.
"Says who?" She giggled and captured his lips again.
"You won't remember this in the morning," he said, pulling away again.
"I don't care," she murmured.
"Your judgment is clouded," he said.
"I've never seen so clearly," she replied, pulling him to the nearby sofa. She kissed him again, pushing him up against the mattress.
"You don't mean anything you're saying. It's just the alcohol talking," Hank argued, escaping another round of kisses.
"Supposedly, you're more honest when intoxicated," she smiled, kissing him yet again.
"I'm running out of excuses," he whispered.
"Thank God," she said. Hank wrapped his arms around her waist and proceeded to initiate the kissing himself this time. This had been what he'd wanted right? He loved her but never had the chance nor courage to tell her. Well, this was his chance.
"I love you," he mumbled against her lips. He could feel her smile lighting up her face.
"I love you too, dork," she said, pulling open the buttons on his shirt. Before he could fully grasp what she was doing, his shirt was on the floor next to them and she was attempting to pull down his trousers.
He grasped her hands immediately, making her stop what she was doing and look up at him quizzically
"Stop," he said, firmly.
"Why?" (YN) asked, struggling to get free of his grip.
"I want it to be real, not some alcohol-induced decision that you'll regret in the morning," Hank said, loosening his hold as to not hurt her wrists. She sighed but nodded. He let her go and stood up.
She sprawled out on the sofa, growing tired. He went and snatched the blanket off his bed, returning to drape it over her shoulders but she reached out and gripped his hand, pulling him down with her. She latched onto him, snuggling into his chest.
"I love you," she mumbled on his bare skin, her fingers tracing his body, sending shivers down his spine.
"You already said that," he chuckled.
"I know. But I wanted to make sure you knew that I meant it," she grinned, nestling closer to him still. He could feel her drift off into sleep. Her body lost any tension and her breathing became heavy and even. She was completely oblivious to the world around her. She was so relaxed. More so than he'd ever seen her before that very moment.
Hank sighed, dreading the morning when he would, no doubt, awake to a very sober (Y/N) asking awkward questions about what they had been up to the night before. He would have to make something up. Some lie to subdue her curiosity.
'Why were we sleeping on the couch together?' She'd ask, not remembering a single event that had occurred past ten thirty the night before. Not recalling a single word she'd uttered to him in the dark, peaceful night. Not recollecting a single moment of bliss she had shared with him.
'You pulled me down with you. You thought I was some sort of teddy-bear,' he'd respond.
'Why are you shirtless?" She'd interrogate.
'You spilt your drink on me,' he'd say.
'Did I do anything I should regret?' She'd prod.
'I don't think so,' he'd recite, looking away in despair.
A few white lies wouldn't hurt her. In fact, it would just save her from a world of pain and embarrassment. Too bad it had to be at his expense.
