It was one of those things, again. One of the parties with all these people you didn't know and didn't really like, but you had to go because Shawn needed you there.
Hollywood parties were pretty constant with him, and since you were in town visiting while he was recording, you had to go, too.
It was more of an excuse to get all dressed up, and seeing Shawn in a suit did things to you. Things that made you want to do things to him.
It was dim and warm, the hum of everyone talking and mingling filling your ears. You stood in the corner, glass of wine in hand, eyeing your boyfriend across the room. He was deep in conversation with important people you couldn't name. His dark curls hung low on his forehead, a rosy glow inching up his cheeks. His words were lazy as his tattooed hand gripped a glass of whiskey, and you felt a sense of pride watching him be a part of this world. It wasn't exactly your scene, but Shawn was. Shawn was your scene and you needed to be there for him.
You occupied yourself scanning the room, taking in everyone's appearance and demeanour. It was all a little fake, but that was expected. People grouped together on Saturday nights to brag about their success and get shitfaced, and sometimes Shawn had to too to maintain his relationships within the industry.
Your eyes found him again, but he now stood alone. Looking a little confused, he turned, scanning the room for a familiar face. His eyes lit up when they landed on you, a smile turning up the corners of his bright pink pout.
"Hey, you," he slurred as he sauntered over to you, placing his glass down on a table and grabbing your hands in his. They were warm.
"Hey, bub," you smiled, scanning his face to confirm your suspicions. "Are you drunk?" you asked, confident that he was, in fact, hammered, but looking forward to whatever answer you'd receive.
"Me, drunk? No," he said, dragging out the o sound. "Never, baby," he giggled, possibly trying to convince himself.
"Alright, love," you said as his hands dropped your and found your face.
"Shawn, we need to get going soon, okay? You have to be up early tomorrow," he stared at you deeply, eyebrows furrowing. What the hell? "Shawn, what is it? A-are you okay?" You asked, wondering what could have possibly gotten into him.
Silence. He stared at you, inspecting your face, eyes falling on yours. You stared back, confused, but amused.
"Shawn?" you prompted, still waiting for an answer.
"Yeah, oh, what? Sorry, I'm sorry, what were you saying?" he dropped his hands, reaching up to scratch at his head, "I got a little lost in your eyes, there." A smile reached his lips again, cheeks turning pinker than before.
"Goof," was all you said, pulling him in for a kiss. It was soft and warm, a safe feeling encapsulating you.
Even though you were so far away from home, nothing mattered. Shawn was here and he was kissing you, and you were home. He was your home. Warm, drunk, and in love.
