#razzle dingely x reader

[new-york-city-dolls]

"Away from home"

Razzle Dingley x Reader.

🍂..🧸..🤎

Warning: Cuteness, Razzle Being Razzle, Drinking, A little cuss words, kissing, scratches, bleeding, crying, angst, fluff, bad weather, happy ending because nobody deserves to cry <3. Series!!

၄၃ Pairings: Razzle Dingley x Reader (fem or male)

----> summary: you and your boyfriend Razzle are on balancing terms in this relationship you've been trying to fix, everything has been as smooth as ice until he has to leave home once again to go on tour.

"Luv?" Razzle's voice called out through the much quiet house, wandering around and peaking his nose through each room he could manage to get to, without being frightened by your cat, Gypsy.

You and Razzle took Gypsy in when she was 7 months old. He was hesitant because he really wasn't a cat lover, but you wanted the cat. So what's there to argue about and for?

"In the kitchen!" You yelled back to your boyfriend. Not too long, footsteps could be heard, making their way to the kitchen. Hitting Razzle's nose with the slight smell of cinnamon rolls and a faint smell of fall in the house.

"Mm..What's Cookin' in there?" Dingkey commented as he picked up the yellow bowl that has the icing inside for the rolls. You quickly then smack his hand away making him recoil.

"Ow?? Coulda' told me to stop being greedy hon" His strong accent danced out, giving you a slight smile.

"So what did you come down here to talk my ears off for?" You then turn to face the drummer, who then tilt his head and jolt up in realization after.

"Oh right! Hon, I came down here to tell you I have a tour to go on. The uhhh..--"

He then dragged his words.

"I know, 'That' tour." Y/N sighed in defeat. This was nothing knew, but you grew tired of something that was dragging the relationship to the thinnest string manageable.

"Yea..I promise, bloody promise when I come back I'll make it up? I really don't wanna go but y'know, fans need me. Mike needs me. I'm the best out there so--"

DING!

The oven goes off letting Y/N know the rolls are done.

"Right on time, all for me, us yea?" He chuckled out with a smile that let his dimples get the best of anybody.

"Meow.." Gypsy, replied. Something like 'me too' or 'sharing is caring'

"And gypsy.."

-------🍂

Night time has rolled in, quicker than ever. It's 11:26pm, a time where you would normally bid Gypsy goodnight and sleep until 8am or so.

But no, you and Razzle were on the couch cuddling, watching a corny TV show, something to his interests.

You glare daggers at him, basically side eyeing him. Reflecting on the thoughts you both had sharing together before this ship had almost sank.

The days were you both could actually laugh, and not feel awkward or communicate all day with Noone going anywhere or--

"Whatcha thinkin' about pretty?" His low voice cut off, he seem tired.

"Nothing much, just tired Raz" "Tired yea? How about we go to bed"

"Mmm...sure I guess"

As of now, you both head off to bed.

----🧸

Morning took the role of rolling in. It's now 10:34am in the morning. Razzle spot seemed to be empty and light.

"Razzle??"

"In 'ere luv!" A grumble was reached out in the distance of next door or at least two doors down. You then get up to only find Nicholas brushing his teeth with Gypsy sitting on the sink, admiring your boyfriend.

It didn't take long for him to get ready. He wore the colorful bright striped pants you bought him, the ones he really wanted. A red shirt, with black bracelets on his right wrist, and colorful ones on his left. His signature hat, with a bead necklace, you made him back then. Pink socks and orange shoes.

Glamrock.

"You look great handsome" He then turned his head as Gypsy continue to admire him.

"Thanks hun, it wears out my name" You weren't sure about that part, but you knew he was being silly and couldn't hold back that little laugh that interrupted through your throat.

Lifting some spirit in him.

"Alrigh' luv, I gotta get goin' don't do anything stupid without me"

He then peck your lips 2-3 times. His perfect pink soft lips giving you some affection you've been craving.

"Be safe, don't do anything stupid with Andy either!" You shout out as your lover jog down stairs, before exiting. He takes a sip of his beer.

"Alright alright mum!" He then exit out as the door shuts.

You were left to ponder alone about your thoughts about Razzle and the tour. Wandering if he will be safe or not.

"Meow"

Or maybe not..

----

The End🧸.

I hope you all liked this!! It's my first fic I've written, and I don't think I've did too good, and neither too bad either if you know what I mean?

I'm gonna make this into a series!!

And thank you, @clitcrimson for the idea of thi fanfic! You were a big help really <3!! 🧸.

[you-can-call-me-wanda]

Opening Shift

Pairing: Razzle Dingley x Reader

A/N: Thank you to everyone who likes and reblogs my posts! It means a lot :)

The Saturday opening shifts at the café sucked, but you somehow always got stuck with them.

The little café you were working at opened at an ungodly hour in the morning, before even the sun had decided to wake up and start its day, which meant that whoever was there to open had to be up even earlier. You would get to work every Saturday exhausted, still rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and not in any mindset to be getting any actual work done. Thankfully, you normally had the first hour or so to simply mill around and wake up before anyone actually showed up looking for some coffee on account that you opened at four AM.

Normally, you would just sit at the breakfast bar and drink a cup of tea or coffee to get your day started. Sometimes, you would try and get the cook, William, to make you some free eggs or something if you were hungry (though he usually was quite moody in the mornings and would very gruffly refuse). If there were any napkins to be folded or menus to be put away, you would do that as well.

On this particular day though, it seemed your morning routine of coffee and relaxation at the counter would be interrupted because for once, you had customers.

You sighed to yourself as you heard the chime of the café door ding, a sign that someone had just walked in. It was early in the morning, way too early in your opinion for anyone to be looking for coffee or a plate of food. You were the only server on duty, so you made your way to the front of the little café to seat whoever had just walked through the doors.

A group of five rag tag boys stood in the entrance of the café, looking around curiously. They were dressed bizarrely and stood out in the dainty little restaurant. They all had wild and long hair and colorful, fun clothing to match. They looked up and smiled politely when they saw you.

“Good morning,” you greeted tiredly, grabbing five menus from the hostess stand nearby. “Just the five of you?”

They nodded and you motioned for them to follow after you.

There was no one else in the café considering it was still before five in the morning on a Saturday and most sensible people were still in bed relaxing. You sat the five mystery men at a circular booth and gave them their menus, leaving them to look over it for a few minutes.

You went back to the kitchen to tell William that there were customers and that he should expect orders soon and then went back to check on your table.

“Hi, my name is (Y/N) and I’ll be your server this morning,” you said, repeating the same line you did day after day to every customer. “Can I get you guys started with something to drink?”

“I’m Razzle,” one of them said, catching you off guard.

In all your time serving at the café, you had never had a customer introduce themselves back to you. Your startled expression must have said it all because a couple of the other boys began to giggle into their hands. Trying to maintain professionalism, you continued.

“Oh, um okay. It’s nice to meet you.”

Razzle didn’t look fazed. He simply dipped his top hat down in greeting and grinned at you.

“Can I get a coffee?”

Your staring was cut off by one of the other boys ordering his beverage. You quickly snapped your eyes away from Razzle.

“Of course,” you said. “Anyone else?”

Everyone else at the table ended up ordering coffee as well so you hurried back to the kitchen to go grab a pot to fill their mugs as well as lots of cream and sugar for them to add to it. After you returned with the coffee and sugar and cream and had filled their mugs, you asked if they were ready order.

“Did you have enough time to look over the menu?” you asked, taking out the little notepad tucked away in the front pocket of your apron and a pencil so you could record their orders.

They took their turns ordering, going down the table. You wrote everything down and collected their menus as they went along making sure you knew how they wanted everything cooked and what sides they wanted.

When you got to Razzle, he set his menu down and looked up at you.

“What do you recommend?” he asked, causing the blonde next to him to smile and nudge him slightly under the table.

“Uh, what do I recommend?” you repeated.

It wasn’t really a common question that you got. The items on the menu here were pretty straight-forward. Eggs tasted like eggs. French toast tasted like French toast.

“Yeah,” he said, giving you another smile. You felt your heart flutter somewhat at the sight. He was pretty cute. “What do you think I should get? I figured you know best since you work here and all.”

“Um, well, the pancakes are good,” you said. “Um, they’re sweet.”

“Sweet?” he asked.

You nodded.

“Like you?”

One of the other boys buried his head in his hands and groaned at the cheesy line.

“Uh,” you said ineloquently, not sure how to answer him.

“I’ll have the pancakes,” Razzle said with a wink, sparing you the embarrassment of having to come up with some sort of answer for his question.

You nodded, sure that you were blushing, and scurried off to hand their orders to William in the kitchen.

While you waited for their orders to be made you decided to get to work folding napkins for the day by the hostess stand while you eavesdropped shamelessly on your guest’s conversation from across the room.

“Razzle has a crush!” you heard one of them sing teasingly.

“It’s not a crush,” Razzle was quick to defend. “I don’t even know them.”

“Then why are you flirting with them?” another boy asked. “Badly I may add.”

“I mean, have you seen them?” Razzle said. “I thought I was looking at an angel when we first walked in.”

You could hear more excited whispering and giggling after this that you couldn’t quite decipher well enough to make out.

“You should ask them out.”

“I can’t,” Razzle sighed.

You could hear what they were saying again now.

“Why not?” another boy asked curiously.

“I don’t think they seem too interested,” Razzle said sadly.

You could imagine his dejected expression and frowned. Little did he know you were quite interested.

“You can’t be sure if you don’t ask.”

“You think I should ask for their number?” he asked his mates.

You could hear them all give their approval, and a smile made its way back to your face.

Within fifteen minutes or so, their food was all ready and William was ringing the little bell in the kitchen window and passing the plates over to you. It was time for you to head back to them.

You were now a little bit nervous after hearing them talk about you and especially after Razzle had flirted with you before, but you held your head high and smiled as you put their plates down in front of each of them.

“Is there anything else I can get you right now?” you asked politely to which the boys all shook their heads.

Your gaze lingered on Razzle, and he looked up at you with his big blue eyes once more.

“Actually,” he said, “I was wondering if I could get your number.”

His voice wavered as he spoke which surprised you.

Even though you had been expecting him to ask you out before he left the café since you had listened in on his conversation, you couldn’t control the blush that rose to your cheeks or the frantic pitter patter of your heartbeat.

You were aware of all his friends awaiting your answer.

“I can go write that down for you,” you said, with an almost coy smile, earning some small cheers from the boys who patted Razzle on the back.

This time, it was you who was winking at Razzle as you walked away to go write your number down for him on his receipt.

Maybe the opening shifts weren’t so bad after all.

[buckysrighthanddoll]

Gluttony

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader (college AU)

Warnings: drinking, fluff, a teensy bit of angst (y’all know it’s me lol), swearing

A.N.: This is part two of my Seven Deadly Sins series!!! Read part one here called “Envy” with Bucky Barnes :)

You were never the drinking type. Throughout high school, you maybe had three drinks. It wasn’t that you were consumed with your bookwork or couldn’t sneak out to parties. You had plenty of opportunities.

It was now the third year of college. You were well on your way to your degree, you had an established friend group, and you had a decent enough social life. But when MJ invited you to a party this Friday, you found yourself feeling nervous.

There were a few parties in college that you attended. Every time you got uncomfortable and left early. Every time you stood in the corner with one or two of your friends from class. Every time you were home by midnight.

This time was different.

“MJ, you know--”

“That you’re a lame-ass who won’t hang out with some friends?” MJ interjected. “Come on, (Y/N), it’s just us. Even Ned is gonna be there.” Before you could even respond, she spoke again. “Peter said he’d be there.”

That caught your attention. You contemplated the decision in your head--the party was this Friday, which gave you today to prepare; however, you had a test at 10:00 am on Saturday.

“Fine. You said it was at your apartment, right?”

“Yes. Be there at 10 to help me set up,” MJ smiled, pivoting on her feet and heading to her next class. You sighed and gave a half-smile at her.

MJ knew damn well that you had a thing for Peter. And, beyond that, she insisted that he liked you, too. It was a load of bullshit, but she wouldn’t change her mind.

Finishing your classes for the day was easy. Today was Thursday, which meant you had Art appreciation, Spanish 312, and organic chemistry. That night, you set up your studying supplies and got to work.

Within an hour, you lost focus. You kept worrying about that damn party, but you logically knew that you didn’t need to. It was a few friends. Peter, Ned, MJ, and her boyfriend Mark were the only people that were supposed to be there. They were all people that you knew and trusted. As long as you didn’t drink, you’d be fine.

“Hey (Y/N/N),” Peter said, making you jump. He laughs, which immediately eases your anxieties. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I left my door unlocked again, didn’t I?” You asked, standing from your desk. He nods his head and sits on the chair by the kitchen counter. “You want something to drink?”

“Water, please,” He responds. He was always so polite, even though you’d known him since sophomore year of high school. The two of you knew everything about each other. He knew about your past traumas and experiences; you knew that he was Spider-Man.

Ya know, the usual.

You got the glass of water and threw a couple of personal pan pizzas in the oven. “I thought you were gonna study for the test on Saturday.”

“I got bored,” Peter shrugs. You sit next to him and rest your arm on the counter. “Figured I’d come to see my favorite girl,” He smiles. He gives one of those small smirks that he (recently) found to drive girls mad, but you simply raise your eyebrow.

“She’s probably in my room.”

At the perfect moment, a fuzzy black cat prances into the kitchen. Her name was Razzle, Razz for short, and she was the cutest damn cat to grace your existence. Peter adored her. There were times when you’d come home from class and see him playing with her on the floor. There were times when Peter would stay the night, and you’d wake up to see a fuzzy black ball on his chest. The scene was so cute that you took a picture (which may or may not be your lock screen, shh).

Razz jumps into Peter’s lap and immediately starts purring. His smile gets even bigger, and he scratches under the cat’s chin (the sight alone makes your heart soar).

“You wanna watch a movie?” Peter asks.

The oven dings, making you stand up to get the pizza. “As long as we can go over the vocab for the test afterward.” Peter groans, but you know that it’s sarcastic. “Deal.”

Peter goes to the living room area and turns on a random movie. You place the pizzas on paper plates and carry them out to where he’s sitting on the couch, his feet propped up onto the table. At least he had his socks on.

Thirty minutes into the movie, you weren’t paying attention anymore. All you could focus on was the way the screen lit Peter’s face; the way his eyes followed every action; the way his body jerked during a fight scene; the way his lips looked so soft and kissable and--

“Is there something on my face?” Peter asked. You snapped your gaze to the empty plate ahead of you. That’s one thing that you loved about Peter--besides his improved spidey-senses, he (sort of) grew out of his awkwardness.

“No, uh, I got lost in thought,” You lied. You grabbed his empty plate and took it to the kitchen to throw in the garbage. Taking a second to collect yourself, you went back to the couch. You scoffed at Peter, who was under a blanket and taking all three spots. “You’re such a dipshit.”

“But I’m your dipshit,” Peter retorted. You rolled your eyes as he sat up, allowing you to sit where his head just was. You plopped yourself down, and Peter rested his head on your lap, lying on his side to still face the TV.

Peter fell asleep twenty minutes later. Your hand was in his hair, softly playing with his curls, and soon enough, the soft snores ensued.

You stayed there for several moments after the movie ended. It was easy to bypass the credits rolling on the screen, especially when Peter was right there. Head in your lap. An arm draped across your thighs. You could see yourself doing this every weekend with him--waking him up, getting to the bedroom, holding each other until the early morning.

It was stupid how much you loved him. He was your best friend throughout high school and college. He was with you through every smile and tear. It was just impossible for you not to harbor anything more than a friendship.

Once the title screen popped back on, you shook Peter awake. He hums groggily and opens his eyes. As he realizes that he fell asleep on your lap, he goes red in the face and sits up.

“I didn’t realize I was even tired,” He says, letting out a breathy laugh. “I’m sorry. I, uh, I gotta get home, though. We have an 8 am tomorrow.” Peter gets up from the couch and makes his way toward the door.

“Yeah, yeah,” You said, standing up and following him. “Goodnight. Be safe, love you,” You added, hugging him.

“‘Night (Y/N/N), love you, too,” Peter responded. He left, and you took that as your cue to get to sleep.

Your classes breezed by the next day. You and Peter’s 8 am class was spent reviewing material for tomorrow’s test, and your ten am consisted of you being a TA for your Spanish professor. She just had you look through papers while she taught about the subjunctive tense.

At your apartment, you texted MJ to ask what you should wear. She arrived twenty minutes later and immediately began searching through your closet. She explained that it was still casual since it was just a few friends, but your usual plain t-shirts and jeans weren’t going to cut it.

MJ picked a tight-fitting shirt with a v-neck. She said that it made you look insanely attractive, especially when paired with the (extremely short) denim shorts that you hardly ever wore.

You decided just to straighten your hair and do basic makeup. It consisted of only eyebrows, eyeliner, and mascara; it was a bit more than your daily makeup, but if you were going to a party, you didn’t want to mess it up.

After getting dinner, you and MJ went to her apartment and began setting up. There was a beer pong table, food set out on another table, and all of the alcohol she could afford on a third table. You put a playlist on her TV screen and then put the remote behind it. It was all said and done within an hour.

You turned on the strip lights right as Mark got there. He greeted his girlfriend with a short kiss, and then he came and hugged you. Mark was a sweet guy; he treated MJ right, and he was great at communication, plus he made an effort to be friends with her friends.

Ned showed up half an hour later, and Peter was right behind him. You already had three shots, but they hadn’t kicked in yet; it was probably for the best because all you could think when you saw him was damn.

He wore a dark grey v-neck shirt and dark denim jeans. He looked like he had just gotten out of the shower shortly before leaving, as his hair was still slightly damp. MJ had to hip check you to pull your attention back to the conversation.

“You need to tell him eventually,” She starts. “I mean, he totally has it bad for you, too.”

“Bullshit,” You sang. “He’s my best friend, besides you. That’s it.” You looked at the table and picked up the peppermint schnapps. “Another shot?”

“Using liquor as a negative coping mechanism. Same,” MJ nodded, smiling as she grabbed the shot glasses. “Competitive?”

“Bet,” You answered, pulling out a five from your pocket. She threw down an additional five and called Mark over to call it so that it wasn’t biased.

You both set the shot glasses on the counter and got ready. Mark slapped the table, and you and MJ threw the glasses back and slammed them back down. You won by a fraction of a second, making you throw your arms up.

“Didn’t think you were a drinker, (Y/L/N),” MJ laughed.

“I’m not,” You smirked. You grabbed the money and put it in your pocket, lining up another shot and downing that one too. “But distractions are distractions.”

“You really need a therapist,” Ned laughed.

Within an hour, you were blasted. Although you’d been slightly tipsy before, you’d never been full-on drunk before. MJ was right there with you, Mark was somewhat behind, and Ned was tipsy. Peter, who had slowly been sipping on his drink, was hardly beyond sober.

The five of you were playing Cards Against Humanity in the living room. MJ had the lead, but that didn’t shock anybody; she was declared the friend group’s funniest. You were near behind, though, which was shocking only because you’d thought Ned should be in your position.

It wasn’t like it mattered to you. All that mattered was that you and Peter sat next to each other, thighs pressed to one another, and his arm was resting on the couch cushions behind your head. If you thought that dealing with your emotions was hard when you were sober, then you were in a world of trouble when it came to you being drunk (and him being this close).

Gluttony was not your usual sin. Indulging in vices like drinking wasn’t typical of you. On any other day, you’d throw yourself into your studies, or maybe you’d be planning your study abroad that was coming up. But drinking? That was out of the ordinary.

Tonight was different. You wanted to let loose--to forget about your emotions. But that wasn’t happening, now was it?

After your game was up, you partied some more. You expected to forget about your emotions; instead, you found yourself forgetting how to care about preserving them. A few shots here, some dancing there, and you were more carefree than you had been in years.

Around three in the morning, you were tired. More than that, you had to be up at eight to get ready for your test at ten. You found yourself stumbling to get your things together so you could walk home, but Mark was trying to stop you.

“(Y/N), it’s past midnight in a college city, and you’re as drunk as a skunk. Just stay here,” Mark tried. MJ was right behind him and insisting that you at least call a taxi or an Uber.

“I’ll be fine,” You assured, nearly falling over as you slipped your shoes on. Peter, thankfully, catches and steadies you. He keeps an arm around your waist, which makes your already reddened face burn even hotter.

“I’ll take her home. I’m sober,” Peter says, looking at MJ. “Besides, we both have a test in seven hours--I need the sleep.”

“Drive safe, man,” Mark says, pulling Peter in for a hug. Peter gives MJ and Ned a hug, and then he’s by your side, leading you to his car.

It was a short and silent drive. Thank gods. You weren’t in any state to be talking to someone who you’ve harbored romantic feelings for.

Peter took you inside your apartment. The moment the door shut behind him, he locked it and got to your bedroom. He picked out some sleep shorts and an old shirt for you to sleep in, and he left you to change while he grabbed some water for you.

You sat in bed as he walked back into the room, setting the glass on your nightstand.

“You’re too nice,” You whined. “Aren’t guys supposed to be assholes or something?”

“I’m the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man--I’m not quite like most guys.” Peter smiles and lifts the covers, letting you get under them. Once you’re laid back, you take a sip of your water, and he closes the windows and curtains. He comes back to pull the blankets over your chest. Then, he starts to leave.

“Peter, can you stay the night here?” You asked. He turns to you and gives one of the softest smiles you’d ever seen (maybe it was just the rose-tinted glasses, or perhaps it was the staggering amount of alcohol in your blood). Nodding his head, he gets in on the other side of the bed.

Peter had stayed the night here plenty of times, but he always slept on the pull-out couch in the living room. He never once stayed in your bed with you also in it. You figured it was either out of concern for boundaries or respect.

The truth was, Peter was also head-over-heels for you. He’d told MJ, not that he needed to--MJ was good at reading people, and he certainly wasn’t subtle about his attraction for you.

You were the first person he came to when he became Spider-Man. You were his reason to fight after he got dusted (along with you). You were his favorite person to see after a mission--you’d been at the tower anytime Tony Stark told you that Peter was coming home. You were always there for him. You were it. You were the one that Peter wanted to be with, even if it didn’t work out in the long run.

Once Peter settled into the sheets, you rolled over and cuddled into him. Your head rested on his chest, an arm around his torso, and a leg tangled with his own. Both of you heaved a sigh of relief; this felt good. This felt right.

“Peter?” You asked.

“Yeah?” He responded.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“No, like, I love you,” You confessed, looking up at him through heavy eyelids. “Like, I wanna kiss you and cuddle you like this and hold your hand. I wanna tell people that I’m your girlfriend, and you’re my boyfriend.”

“Baby, you’re drunk.”

“I’ve been hiding this for years, Peter,” You insisted. “It isn’t because I’m drunk. The only thing this liquor is doing is helping me say what I want to say without worrying.”

“If I’m honest, (Y/N), I love you, too. In that same way. But you’re not even going to remember this in the morning.”

“Will you remind me?”

“Yes.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Not when you’re drunk.”

“Damn,” You sighed. “Did you set an alarm for the morning?”

“I already have one set,” Peter assured you. “Let’s get to sleep.”

“And Peter?” You called. “Thank you for taking care of me.” He hummed in response.

The next morning, you were shocked that you only had a small headache. You were even more surprised that you woke up next to Peter.

Last night was fuzzy for you. Bits and pieces were clear as day, like winning thirty bucks from MJ. But what happened? Was Peter as drunk as you were? Did you say something stupid? Why was he in your bed right now?

No matter the reason, you found yourself not wanting to leave this spot. You were the closest you’d been to Peter.

The alarm on Peter’s phone rang, making you jump. Then, you grabbed your aching head. Peter awoke with a start before looking down at you. He shut the ringtone off, and then he wrapped his arms tighter around you. His hand ran up and down your arm, which made you feel happy and warm, but why the hell was he holding you like this?

“Good morning,” Peter said groggily. His morning voice was hands-down, the most beautiful thing ever.

“‘Morning,” You responded.

“Want me to put some coffee on for that hangover?” He asked.

“I’m not that hungover, actually,” You answered. “I can go make some.”

Peter nodded his head, so you got up. Three scoops into the filter, some hot water, and a few minutes later, you both had cups of bitter coffee to wake you up. You both started to get ready for the day by brushing your teeth and putting on some new clothes (Peter had to find some clothes that he’d left here last month).

It was going to be a casual and laid-back day; that much was certain. Your body was aching, and your head only started to worsen even after taking some ibuprofen. There were still thirty minutes before you needed to leave for the campus, so you and Peter sat on the couch.

“Did I say anything stupid last night?” You asked, holding onto your mug.

“Only that you loved me and wanted to kiss me,” He smirked.

You groaned and threw your head back. “I’m sorry,” You started, looking him in the eye. “I shouldn’t have said that while I was drunk.”

“Did you not mean it?”

“Of course I meant it,” You said, laughing drily. “Peter, in the seven years we’ve known each other, I’ve felt like this for six of them. I just shouldn’t have told you while I was drunk.”

“Last night, I said that I loved you, too,” Peter said. “And then you asked if you could kiss me, but I wasn’t going to let you do anything in that state.”

“Oh,” You muttered, looking down in embarrassment and setting down your coffee. Peter’s lifted your chin and then cupped your face before leaning in and kissing you. The initial shock wore off quickly, and then you were kissing him back. It was soft and sweet--precisely what you’d have expected your first kiss with him to be like.

When Peter pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours. “You wanted me to remind you when you were sober. Was that okay?”

“More than,” You smiled. You closed the distance again, tangling your hands in his hair. Peter smiles against you.

After the test, Peter took you on your first official date as a couple. He held your hand and bought you a coffee, and you carried a conversation like everything was natural. Like everything was right.

(And, for the record, you passed that exam despite the light hangover).