Miguel was such a different person whenever he was drunk, and you lived for it.

Sometimes you did, anyways. Today, he went to a bar with Peter B. You could guess how that turned out; Parker gave him some drinks, called you to come get him, so you ran all the way across town to find your boyfriend. And there he was, sitting on the floor with a small cup in his hand.

You would blink before hoisting him up, throwing his arm over your shoulder and signalling a taxi quickly, then throwing him inside it. Now you were at his house, thrown him in bed and sighed. That was the last thing you remembered before he pulled you into bed with him.

He only woke up by two in the morning, and by then he wasn't drunk anymore.

You fell off the bed suddenly, making him let out a chuckle before he got up and offered to drive you home, only to be stopped by you saying that he had been drinking,

"Forget it, I'll just call a taxi on the street or something," you muttered, opening his front door, being stopped quickly by Miguel who slammed it shut and locked it, his hand over yours.

He blinked, looking down at you and shaking his head. "Don't go," he whispered, giving your neck a soft kiss. "Not yet."

Goodness knows what the hell happened after that, yet here you two were, making out in his bed. His arms were around your waist as he kissed your lips passionately, your legs around his waist. So much for being an innocent couple back then...