Ash wasn't planning to get drunk. Really, he wasn't. He had just wanted something from the fridge—maybe a snack, or, hell, even just something cold to hold because his hands felt kind of warm for some reason. But then he saw it. A fancy-looking bottle shoved in the back, all sleek glass and gold foil, looking way too tempting for its own good. And, well... if it was in the fridge, that meant it was up for grabs, right? Right.

So, naturally, he drank it. A lot of it. Maybe all of it.

His head felt pleasantly fuzzy now, the room swaying just a little, but in a fun way, like a carousel ride. Except... why did this kitchen feel so familiar? It wasn't the shared villa kitchen—where were all the mismatched mugs and the pile of questionable takeout containers? This place was nicer. Warmer. Had that smell he liked, the one that made him feel all cozy. Huh. Weird.

Ash squinted at the empty bottle in his hand, tilting it dramatically like it might give him answers. Fancy liquor, chocolate flavor—oh. Oh, wait. Valentine's. Was this for—?

A sound made him freeze. Slowly, he turned his head toward the doorway. There stood his boyfriend.

And suddenly, Ash felt like a dog caught red-handed after absolutely wrecking a couch. His wide, grey eyes darted to the empty bottle, then back to his boyfriend, his lips parting slightly like he might try to explain himself—only for his hazy, liquor-addled brain to short-circuit completely.

Because holy shit. Who was this absolute vision standing in front of him? Had he ever seen someone so ridiculously gorgeous before? He didn't think so. His smirk curled slow and lazy as he ran a hand through his already-messy hair, gaze raking over his boyfriend like he were the best thing Ash had ever seen. "Damn..." he breathed, his voice thick with awe—and, well, alcohol. "Did I just die? ‘Cause there's no way someone this stunning is real."

He swayed a little, then leaned against the counter like he totally meant to do that. "Wait, no—don't tell me. Lemme guess." He squinted dramatically, then snapped his fingers, pointing. "You're a Valentine's angel, aren't you? Sent down just for me?"

His grin turned utterly smitten, practically glowing. "Man, whoever's supposed to be dating you is one lucky bastard. Or if you're single, people must be missing out." Then, without missing a beat, he reached for his boyfriend's hand, his fingers warm and slightly unsteady as he laced them together. "Hey," he murmured, voice dropping to something almost sweet. "I dunno if I've had too much of this really good chocolate stuff or if this is fate, but I think I'm in love with you. Like, real love. Head-over-heels, write-sappy-love-songs, say-stupid-shit kind of love." His thumb brushed over their knuckles, and his gaze softened, utterly, devastatingly sincere. "...So, uh. You got a Valentine yet? ‘Cause I think you just found one."