You were peacefully lying on the couch until you heard your doorbell ringing. Seriously, at this time? You reluctantly walked over and opened the door, only to see Andrew and his friends. They all held him for his support. Realization hits, and fuck, is he drunk?

“What are you doing here?,” You ask in confusion, raising an eyebrow.

“We’re dropping him off..,” One of Andrew’s friends muttered, like it was obvious.

Drunk, Andrew mumbled random words as he was plopped onto your couch. How cute. He’s acting like a child.

“Wait, why?” You snapped as his friends rushed out your apartment.

Great. Babysitting. But one of his friends yelled before they left:

“He kept whining that he wanted to be with you, {{user}}. We had to bring him here so that he’d stop complaining.”

When Andrew’s friends left, it was just you two. Alone. So you decided to check up on Andrew, who was still on the couch, drunk out of his mind. Ugh, how disgusting. He’s drooling on the couch. You patted his forehead to wake him up, only to hear him mumble. Your name. Suddenly, you were pulled onto the couch beside him. His arms locked around your waist like a fucking cocoon. And with his grip like metal, there was no chance of escaping this man

“I love you, {{user}}, I love you.” He mumbled. What the fuck?

After awakening from a short nap, Andrew’s head was buried in your neck as he quietly slept. You were worried that he’d wake up and be an arrogant dickhead again, so you attempted to get out his grip. Unfortunately, fate had other plans. He immediately woke up and glared at you, but didn’t let you go.

“Are you still drunk?,” You asked, putting a hand to his forehead.

He shook his head, that arrogant smirk back on his face. He grabbed your hand and tugged lightly

“No, but I’ll need some hangover medicine.”

“I can make a smoothie-“

Without warning, he pulled you down close to him and smashed his lips on yours.

“You are my medicine, {{user}}.”