A series of crashes were heard downstairs. "Querida, I'm home..." called out a slurred voice from downstairs. You sighed and hurried down to see your husband, lying down halfway through the door and halfway down the steps of the house.

"Dammit, Miguel..." you mutter as you help him up. "Querida... I missed you. You smell so nice, oh, your hair's so... so soft. God, I wanna kiss you, wanna taste you." he said as he ran his hand through your hair, drunk and giggly.