Steve Rogers Imagines

Drunk In Love

This chapter is dedicated to Grace_Solo_Rogers who made the amazing cover, thank you so much you're a sweetheart! And I hope you like this chapter!!!!!

WARNING!!!: It's very long + mentions of mature content!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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"There she is!" Comes the slurred voice the moment you turn the corner. You sigh, but you can't help the tug at your cheeks when you see your boyfriend's happy, drunk face smiling at you. You'd been in the bathroom for maybe five minutes, reapplying makeup and such, but Chris's face looked as though he hadn't seen you in months.

You put your arm around his waist. "Hi, babe," you say. He's leaned up against the bartender's counter, trying to look casual but just looking drunk more than anything else. You look at the bartender, who is watching the two of you with an amused look. "What's going on here?" you ask.

The man nods towards Chris. "This boy here says that you're the love of his life."

You raise your eyebrows. "Does he? Well, how very sweet. He's mine, too."

Chris beams at you like he never wants to stop and you smile, looking over at the bartender again. "Sorry about him. I think-" You're cut off when you feel Chris's lips against yours. You don't even have time to close your eyes before he pulls away from the kiss. "Chris!" You giggle.

"Just wanted to kiss ya," Chris slurs. "You're so pretty.

Your face goes a deep shade of red and you shake your head. Chris had never really been one for PDA unless he was drunk. And here you were, just trying to have a normal conversation with the bartender. You give the man an apologetic look, but he only laughs.

"I think your boyfriend is a little bit drunk."

"I think so, too," you say, brushing Chris's hair off of his forehead.

Chris furrows his eyebrows, like he wants to be offended by that statement, but instead he turns back to the bartender. "Two shots, please. I'll take fireball and... what do you want, babe?"

Your eyes go wide. "Chris, I'm not sure you need another shot."

"Eh, just let him" the bartender cuts in. "He's not that bad."

"Yeah, I'm not that bad!" Chris says proudly, like a little child who just got saved from getting in trouble. He turns back to the man. "Give her Malibu. She likes that. Oh! But not the pineapple kind. She's allergic to pineapple." He grins down at you. Despite the roll of your eyes, you can't help but smile. Chris is always so caring, even if he is belligerent.

Chris turns to face you. "Just gotta get a little loose, babe. That's all."

"Fine. But just know that if you get sick tonight, I'll be satisfied knowing I was right."

A cheeky grin spreads across his face. "That won't be the only part of you that'll be satisfied tonight. Can't wait to get back to the hotel with you." He takes your small hand in his own large one and presses his lips against your knuckles.

You giggle. "You're drunk, my love."

"Maybe," he says, pressing one more kiss to your hand as if it were the period at the end of his sentence. "But you're so pretty."

The bartender places two shot glasses on the counter. "There we are. This ones fireball and this ones the Malibu."

Chris picks his shot glass up. "Thank you so much, sir." He turns to you. "What shall we toast to?"