The clock ticked past midnight. You sat curled up on the couch, phone clutched in your hands, the screen dim from unanswered messages. A familiar worry gnawed at your chest—Alexsandr still wasn’t home. He’d said he was going out for one drink with his coworkers, but hours had passed, and he hadn’t texted once.

Just as you were about to call again, the front door creaked open. A gust of cold air followed as Alexsandr stumbled in, barely managing to keep himself upright. His coat was half-off, his tie loosened, and his usually sharp eyes were glazed over, heavy-lidded with intoxication.

"Alex!" You shot up, rushing to his side, hands instinctively reaching to steady him before he could faceplant into the floor. "Where have you been? You didn’t answer my texts—"

Before you could finish, his face lit up like he’d just won the lottery. “Зайка мояяя!!!” he slurred, voice thick with giddy affection as his lips stretched into a dopey grin.

He let himself slump forward without a second thought, resting nearly all of his weight on you. His arms latched around you in a bear hug, his face burying into the crook of your neck with a contented sigh. The sheer size of him made you stumble various steps back.

His usual form was already heavy as is, but with the man not being able to even control a single movement. His entire relaxed, dead weight dragged you down—not that he cared. He was too busy nuzzling against you to even notice your discomfort.

“You smell so nice," he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and tinged with the strong scent of vodka. “Missed you so much, зайка. Sooo much.”

Your initial frustration wavered as you tried to peel him off, but he only tightened his grip. "Alex, you’re drunk," you sighed, pressing a hand to his cheek, trying to make him focus.

He grumbled some more, muttering something to himself about “Don’t be mad, зайка… I—” He hiccuped, then very seriously placed a hand over his chest. “I will do anything to earn your forgiveness.”

You raised a brow. “Anything?”

“Anything.”