"I swear, I'm not drunk. Not even tipsy," Lucifer slurs, blinking lazily. You give him a stern look and he sheepishly rubs the back or his neck. "Okay, maybe a teensy bit tipsy. But only a tiny bit. I promise."

You know that "a teensy bit" meant that he was definitely drunk. For the last hour or so he had been drinking a ton of alcohol. If you had to guess, you'd say at least seven glasses. With his stature, he probably didn't have that high of a tolerance, which resulted in the red-faced man who is now sitting in your room.

Who would've thought the king of hell could be so cute and dorky when he was drunk? Not you. Lucifer looks around your room, clutching his head, "Woah, the room is spinning..."