SIMON RILEY AKA YOUR BOYFRIEND FOR THE RESCUE OF HIS VERY WASTED PARTER
The call came at 2:13 a.m.
Simon stared at the screen for three full rings before answering.
A stranger’s nervous voice spilled through the speaker. “Uh—hi. Are you listed as emergency contact for—”
“Well sir, seems like your partner is... pretty wasted.”
Simon lowered the phone slowly.
For a full second, the flat was silent.
Then he muttered something deeply unflattering under his breath, grabbed his keys, his jacket, and headed for the door.
You were going to be insufferable tomorrow.
————————————————————————————
By the time he got to the club, he knew two things immediately.
One: the music was offensively loud.
Two: you were somehow louder.
Even from the entrance, he could hear your voice cutting through bass and shouting.
“No, listen to me—my boyfriend would WIN.”
Simon closed his eyes briefly.
The bouncer took one look at him and moved aside without a word.
Inside, lights flashed across packed bodies, drinks sloshed over crowded tables, and there you were—standing on a velvet booth like some drunken monarch, one shoe half off, drink in hand, passionately lecturing three strangers and a deeply concerned bartender.
“He’s tactical,” you were saying with great seriousness. “Like... emotionally unavailable Batman—but he’s very much available to ME!! Yeah only ME.”
“Ahh finally,” one of the strangers said with visible relief the moment they spotted him.
You turned dramatically, nearly lost your balance, then pointed at Simon like you’d discovered a criminal mastermind.
“Stay back,” you warned, wobbling dangerously. “My boyfriend is scary.”
“He’s huge. Mean. Deadly. British.”
Simon pinched the bridge of his nose.
“You can walk or I carry you.”
You gasped like he’d insulted your ancestors. “Don’t touch me, mysterious club villain.”
The bartender slid Simon your abandoned card and whispered, “Good luck.”
Ten seconds later, he had you slung over one shoulder while you protested to everyone in a five-meter radius.
You smacked his back repeatedly—soft, useless little thumps that felt more like aggressive pillow taps than actual violence.
“Wow beastly much i see,” Simon said dryly.
“I’m dragging you to the car.”
People moved out of his path as he carried you through the club. Some laughed. One person saluted. Another shouted, “Free the party animal !”
You pointed at that person immediately.
“No one’s helping you,” Simon said.
————————————————————————————
Cold night air hit the second he shoved through the club doors.
You went abruptly limp over his shoulder.
“Ugh,” you groaned. “Why is outside so... outside?”
“You tried to square up with a coat rack.”
“It was staring at me funny.”
He set you on your feet beside the car long enough to open the passenger door.
You immediately attempted to wander into traffic.
Simon caught the back of your shirt and reeled you in like a badly behaved cat.
He deposited you into the seat. You immediately tried to escape using the completely wrong handle.
“My boyfriend knows where I live!”
You froze, squinting at him through blurred vision.
Your entire expression changed.
Your face softened into pure delighted affection.
“You crossed the city for me.”
He leaned in, buckled it himself, and gave you a flat look from inches away.
“You’re seconds from being carried inside like luggage.”
————————————————————————————
The drive home was worse.
For three minutes you sang half a song with complete confidence and none of the right words.
Then you accused the GPS voice of flirting with him.
Then you got emotional over a streetlamp.
“She’s trying her best,” you whispered.
“She shines every night and nobody thanks her.”
Simon gripped the wheel tighter.
At the next red light, he glanced over.
You had your cheek squished to the window, staring out solemnly.
“THAT’S MY BOYFRIEND!”you were announcing proudly as if it’s your Nobel price
You slapped a hand dramatically against the glass.
Simon stared straight ahead.
————————————————————————————
When he finally got you home, you became dead weight the moment he opened the passenger door.
“No bones,” you announced.
He hauled you out, one arm around your middle while you clung to him like ivy.
“You smell nice,” you murmured into his shoulder.
“Vodka’s killed your judgment.”
“You’re my favorite person.”
That made him pause for half a step.
Just long enough to be annoyed with himself for noticing.
Inside, he sat you on the edge of the bed, handed you water, and crouched to tug your shoes off before you could faceplant sideways.
“Thank you for rescuing me from that villain.”
You considered that seriously.
“Then thank you for character development.”
Simon huffed a laugh despite himself.
You pointed sleepily at him.
“My boyfriend could still beat you up.”
“He’s grumpy. Broad shoulders. Pretty eyes.”
You blinked slowly, already half asleep.
“...looks like you, actually.”
He pulled the blanket over you and switched off the lamp.
As he turned to leave, your sleepy voice followed him through the dark.
Simon stood there a moment, jaw tight.
Then he answered gruffly, almost too quiet to hear.
He loved you too much to even get annoyed to be honest which was more frustrating than you in your drunk state threatening him about him only…
Which was funny definitely he’ll give you one for that, it was quite enjoyable to hear you brag about him but obviously he’ll never ever ever i mean EVER admit that out loud to you cuz he knowns well you’ll milk that shit out for lifetime so he chose peace & dignity.
