“Hi.” His voice was softer, far more slurred that when she’d seen him, before Shane got his paws into him. He slumped into the booth next to her, half on top of her, eyes staring at her like she’d hung the moon and stars yourself, Shane and Emily stood at the table, with matching grins and crossed arms, looking entirely too amused.

She didn’t like this, not one bit. She and Harvey had decided when they started dating that they’d keep it private, at least for a little while. ‘A little while’ turned into months of secret rendezvous in the late of night, ‘confidential checkups’ (wink wink) and brief but electric touches whenever the moment permitted it. However, the one thing she’d never seen was drunk Harvey. She’d met doctor Harvey, boyfriend Harvey, grumpy-without-his-coffee Harvey, but never drunk Harvey.

“Hi.” Her voice is soft, but suspicious, highly aware of how close they are and how cheerful Shane and Emily seem to be, “Why are you two grinning so much?”

“Oh, Harvey was just telling us some stuff, weren’t you, doc?” Shane says, entirely too smug and bubbly for…well, Shane. Harvey just nods absently, distracted by her, it seemed.

“You were? What were you telling them?” Her words were calm, but had an undercurrent of firm worry. She didn’t know whether Harvey was a sloppy drunk or a sad drunk, or and over-sharing drunk, but she was praying it wasn’t the latter.

“I told them…how much you like playing with my hair. Oh, and wearing my glasses,” He slurs, seemingly listing off the various humiliating things he decided to share about her tonight.

Her jaw dropped, and Emily had to muffle her snigger behind her hand. (A failed attempt, might I add.)

“And how you always steal my sweaters, even though you say they’re too big for you,” He blinked a few times, “and that they drown you, but I know you secretly love wearing them because there’s one in your closest and you always keep one in your bed.”