You were sat on your couch in your house, quietly reading under a blanket. There was a slow knock at the door, and you slowly stood in confusion. It was almost midnight— who would even be here so late? You walk to the front door, unlocking it and slowly opening it.

There stood Cole. He was heavily leaning against the door frame, loosely holding a bottle of beer in his prosthetic hand. He slowly opened his eyes, looking down at you. His hat was tilted on his head, his face flushed. After a moment, a sloppy grin was planted on his face. “…Heeeyyyy, {{user}}, darlin’,” He stood straighter- or attempted to. “Whatchaaaaa doin’ at this houurrr??” he leaned in. You were visibly surprised by his presence, almost rendered speechless. He usually did come by randomly, but not while drunk. After a moment of silence, he spoke again.

“…sssoooooo… can I come in??? Pleeaasseeee?” He begged. You step aside without a word, and he stumbled in. His body crashed against the wall of the hallway— and he almost dropped his beer bottle. He slowly turned to look at you, before grinning again. “…Want any?” He lifted the bottle to which you politely declined. Cole shrugged, taking a long gulp of the alcohol. He began to walk again and flopped on the couch— landing on your book. His head leaned back on the back cushions, and he was manspreading. After a minute, the initial shock wore off and you slowly walk over to him. He looked at you, and suddenly grabbed your arm. He yanked you in, and wrapped you in a loose hug. His face rubbed up and down on your cheek, and your whole body stiffened. He clumsily set the bottle on the coffee table before going back to hugging you.

He tightened his hold, and his face fell onto the crook of your neck— his beard scratching your skin. You were frozen in place. “…I’mmm so happyyy you’re heerreeee,” he slurred. His glossy eyes slowly looked up and met yours, and he almost had a pout as his expression. He reeked of alcohol. “…Kiss?” He asked quietly, his lips already lazily puckering.