“You are so beautiful,” Timothee lazily whispered in your ear, nose pressing against your cheek.

“That’s very sweet Timmy,” you smiled, rolling your eyes as the smell of alcohol filled your nose.

“I mean it (Y/n), so so so so, so beautiful,” he said slurring each word.

“And you're so so so so, so drunk,” you replied, pulling the key out of the ignition and opening your door.

You winced as your sore feet hit the cool sidewalk, the warm summer’s night breeze blowing the strands of hair that had fallen out throughout the night.

“(Y/n),” Timothee called, fist pounding on the window. “I can’t open the door, please help, I don’t want to be stuck here forever, (Y/n) please.” He begged, fear present in each bang of his fist on the window.

A giggle escaped your lips at the sight of your grown boyfriend struggling to open a car door; you grabbed your heels from your seat and shut the door behind you, walking over to Timothee’s side.

You let Timothee out of the car, ignoring his pleas for you to stop laughing at him, and started walking up to your house.

All of the sudden keys and shoes went flying out of your hand as Timothee grabbed you and spun you into him, almost knocking himself over in the process.

“Timothee,” you scolded, pressing your hand to your spinning head, the echoing sound of keys and shoes hitting the concrete.

“Dance with me, (Y/n),” Timmy said, kissing your cheek and trailing down to your neck.

You almost declined his drunken, but sweet offer, but the pull of his soft lips dancing on your neck caused your eyes to snap shut and enjoy the moment; the feeling of pleasure that erupted throughout your body was blinding, and you hadn’t even noticed your two bodies swaying with the warm summer breeze.

“I love you (Y/n),” Timothee whispered in the crook of your neck, hands on your waist swaying to the beat of the wind.

“I love you too Timmy,” you said, looking into his eyes that, even in the dark of night, shone brightly. “I’m going to go inside now, we danced all night, my feet are killing me,” you kissed the tip of his nose; then turning around you picked the shoes and keys that had fallen, once again starting your trek to your front door.

“Then walk no farther malady,” Timmy said, a stupid grin spread across his face.

Before you could tell him no you had been lifted off your feet, Timothee’s wobbling legs slowly, but surely getting you to the front door, even unlocking the door, with much difficulty, and gently placing you on your shared bed.

“Thank you, Timmy,” you said rubbing your sore feet, stifling a giggle as you watched him attempting, and struggling, to take his jacket off.

“Let me help you,” you said walking over and ping his jacket, taking it off his shoulders and throwing it in the hamper.

“What would I do without you,” Timmy mumbled, caressing your hair, eyes half-closed, half-opened.

“Overheat,” you said messing with his curls affectionately.

You left the half-asleep Timmy with a small smile on his lips to get ready for bed; when you came back out ten minutes later you weren’t surprised to see a drunk Timothee laying on top of the covers, clothes from the night still on.

“Timmy,” you called softly, crawling over top his tired frame.

“Yes sweetheart,” he asked, one eye cracked open, lip curling into a slight smile.

“Don’t you want to get comfy baby,” you asked, peppering his face in kisses.

“You get me comfy,” he said, the smile growing larger at your kisses.

“Timmy, you just have to take your shirt and pants off. Just because your drunk doesn’t mean you’re incapable,” you said teasingly.

“Please (Y/n),” he whined.

“Fine,” you huffed, grabbing Timmy’s jeans and tugging them down his legs.

“Woah (Y/n), frisky aren’t we,” Timmy said, his own joke sending him into a fit of giggles.

“Oh shut up,” you growled, swatting at his chest.

You then lifted up his arms, pulling his shirt off as if he was a small child; when you finished that you kissed the top of his as he mumbled I love you and thank you in your ear.

“You're going to be so good at dressing our kids one day,” Timmy said sleepily, arm wrapping around your waist.

You couldn’t stop the butterflies from erupting in the pit of your stomach and fluttering all-around at the sound of a topic you rarely talked about escaping his lips so easily, even if he wouldn’t remember it in the morning.

“Goodnight Timmy, you whispered, turning off the light; the sound of Timothee’s breathing lulling you into a deep, peaceful sleep.