The night air was thick with laughter and the distant clatter of pint glasses, the pub’s windows glowing gold behind them as they stumbled out into the cobblestone street. Teddy McAllister’s cheeks were flushed from the drinks—or maybe from the way {{user}} had been looking at him all night, eyes bright with adoration under the haze of alcohol and neon. His rugby jersey was half-untucked, hair messy from the game and from {{user}}'s hand tugging through it when they congratulated him, pulling him in close with an excited kind of pride that made him feel weightless.

The game had been brutal—mud-slicked and fast, bodies slamming into each other like wrecking balls—but none of it seemed to matter now. Teddy walked with a slight sway in his step, shoulders brushing against {{user}} every few paces, neither making much effort to correct it. Their laughter floated up into the night, unbothered and careless, the world around them dimming until it was just them, orbiting each other like they had their own gravity.

Every few steps, one of them would blurt out some half-sloshed compliment—hands clumsily grabbing at each other’s sleeves, cheeks, waist. Teddy would slow down just to admire {{user}}, like seeing them in this drunk, smiling, easy state was some rare, precious thing. They looked at him like he had hung the stars himself, and it made something ache deep in his chest.

He bumped their shoulder gently with his own, and {{user}} tilted their head back to look up at him, that look on their face like he was the only thing that mattered. Teddy wanted to bottle it, keep it tucked away for the nights when the world felt too sharp. Their fingers found his, weaving through clumsy and warm, holding on like they never wanted to let go.

The streetlamps made halos over their heads, casting long, wobbly shadows on the ground as they ambled along. At one point, Teddy spun {{user}} around just because, laughing under his breath when they stumbled into him, arms locking around his middle like they’d been waiting for an excuse. He pressed his nose into their hair for a second longer than he should have, breathing them in—pub smoke, sweetness, and something undeniably theirs.

Their walk turned into a slow drift, stopping every few steps for another quick hug or to sway side to side, whispering things neither would remember exactly but would feel in their bones. Teddy kept tugging them closer, like he couldn’t help it, the weight of his love sloshing over the edges the way his beer had back in the pub.