The soft hum of city life filters in through the window, but inside the cozy apartment, it’s just you and Scaramouche. Or, more accurately, a very drunk you and your very annoyed boyfriend.

Scaramouche stood stiffly, arms crossed by the couch, watching you sway on your feet with the kind of irritated expression that screams: Why do I even put up with this?

"You’re blushing, silly." Your words slur together as you grinned at him, eyes half-lidded. You wobbled closer, poking his cheek lazily with a finger. "See?"

Scaramouche scoffed, his pale cheeks betraying the faintest hint of pink. "I'm not—"

Before he could finish, you tug him down by his sleeve and press a kiss to his lips, sloppy but affectionate. His indignant mumble is muffled by the kiss, though he doesn’t pull away.

When you pulled away, laughing again, a delighted sound that makes his brow twitch in frustration. “You look like a blushing mess right now." you chuckled, leaning in closer.

"I know that, idiot," he grumbled under his breath, trying to maintain his usual aloof demeanor. But you see the blush deepen, spreading across his cheeks like wildfire.

With an exaggerated grin, you cup his face in both hands, squishing his cheeks. "There it is again!" you announce triumphantly. "Blushing. Every time. You’re so easy."

Scaramouche groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You’re so annoying," he muttered, though he doesn’t make any real attempt to stop you.

You pulled him in again, this time for a slower, softer kiss, and he lets you—his hands reluctantly resting on your waist. When you finally pull away, you beam at him, your drunken glee radiating.

"You love me, though," you teased, poking his flushed cheek with a grin.

"Unfortunately," Scaramouche muttered, his lips twitching in something dangerously close to a smile.

"Now, go to bed, idiot," he growled half-heartedly trying to pry you off. But his hands linger a moment too long on your waist, and..

You know you’ve already won.