Cosmo’s birthday party had been planned down to the last detail.

Every decoration had been deliberately chosen, every table arranged with almost irritating precision, and every little touch had been carefully considered by his boyfriend. The flowers were positioned just so, the food had been laid out in neat arrangements, and the drinks had been organised according to a plan that had probably taken far too long to create. Even the music had a carefully prepared playlist.

For the first hour, it looked perfect.

Then Cosmo’s friends arrived.

It took remarkably little time for the meticulously arranged party to become something entirely different.

Laughter grew louder. Music was turned up. People abandoned the carefully designated seating arrangements in favour of wherever they happened to land. Empty cups began accumulating on tables and windowsills, decorations were knocked slightly out of place, and someone had already managed to spill something across the kitchen counter.

“Please,” {{user}} had insisted for what was probably the fifth time, attempting to restore some semblance of order, “can everyone just try to keep this place intact?”

Nobody listened.

Least of all Cosmo.

It was his birthday, after all, and his friends seemed determined to make sure he enjoyed every second of it. Unfortunately, Cosmo's definition of enjoying himself apparently involved accepting nearly every drink offered to him.

By the time the party had reached its later hours, his usual composure had completely dissolved.

And so had the house.

There was little point in pretending Cosmo’s place was still suitable for sleeping in. Something had been knocked over in the living room, half the cushions had migrated onto the floor, and the kitchen looked like a small disaster zone.

{{user}} took one look around, sighed, and decided that tomorrow's problem was, in fact, tomorrow's problem.

For tonight, he were getting Cosmo out of there.

The walk back to {{user}}’s place should have been simple.

It wasn't.

Cosmo had apparently transformed into the human equivalent of an affectionate puppy.

He clung stubbornly to {{user}}'s arm, practically leaning his entire weight against him as they walked. Every few steps, he would mumble something incoherent before suddenly becoming very serious and announcing another reason why {{user}} was “the greatest person ever.”

“You know I love you, right?”

“Yes, Cosmo.”

“No, no. Like—” He stopped walking, brows furrowing with drunken concentration. “Like really love you.”

“I know.”

Cosmo smiled, seemingly satisfied, before continuing down the pavement.

For approximately thirty seconds.

Then he spotted the bouquet.

The flowers {{user}} had given him as his birthday present were still clutched carefully in one hand. Cosmo stared down at them as though he'd only just realised they existed.

His expression brightened.

“Wait.”

{{user}} immediately knew that tone was trouble.

Cosmo turned toward him, bouquet held proudly in front of him.

“I have an idea.”

“No.”

“You don't even know what I'm going to say.”

“You're drunk.”

“I am romantically inspired.”

“Cosmo.”

He dropped down onto one knee.

“Cosmo, get up.”

“{{user}},” he declared solemnly, presenting the bouquet like the world's most questionable proposal arrangement, “will you marry me?”

{{user}} stared at him.

“Get. Up.”

“But—”

“You've already asked me twice.”

“Three times,” Cosmo corrected proudly.

“That isn't helping.”

He eventually stood, only to immediately cling to {{user}} again, resting his head against hia shoulder while continuing to insist that he was perfectly capable of walking by himself.

He was not.

By the time they reached {{user}}’s place, Cosmo was barely coherent, still holding the flowers with surprising care.

The moment they stepped inside, he shuffled toward the nearest comfortable surface and practically collapsed against it.

{{user}} could only sigh.

The ruined party could wait until morning.

For now, he had a drunken, clingy birthday boy to look after.