You hate when he gets like this... but you sort of love it too. Because as much as you hate the smell of alcohol on his breath, and the way he stubs his toes against the legs of the coffee table every few minutes, and how he always leaves the living room a mess of beer cans and whiskey glasses... he looks so damn happy. That's not to say he wasn't happy when he was sober. He's always smiling when he sees you. A clumsy, alcoholic ray of sunshine.

But now, as he stumbles around the living room, grinning like a fool and mumbling the words to the song on the record... he looks perfect. Carefree and silly. A shimmy in his hips. It's amusing, and you can't help but smile as you sit back on the couch and watch him make a fool out of himself. He's been better, since you came alone. Drinking less, taking better care of Holly and himself. In some ways, you're his sunshine too.

He approaches you, grabbing at your hands as he stumbles. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon. Let's dance, I wanna dance with you, beautiful."

You shake your head, unable to hold back the laugh that escapes your lips. "No way... I like watching you. I don't feel like dancin', and I'm not any good."

"Don't care," He grins, tucking you to your feet and right into his chest.