"Honey, I'm home."
I will be married for a week to the first person in my askbox who says 'Honey I'm Home' [x]
It had been a wild night. Sam didn't remember much of it however, but whenever he woke up to a throbbing head and that familiar ache that came with a very strong hangover a wild previous night was a certainty.
He'd taken Sam out, he remembered that. His heart had been full of sweet smiles and kisses, it was easy to ply the other with liquor to ensure his disposition. He had quite alot too, if evidence was to be believed.
He rubbed his hand over his face, only vaguely noting the unfamiliar feel of a metal band around his finger when the door shutting made him jump and hold onto his head instead, as the noise sent a jagged flare of pain through his brain. Sam groaned under his breath. He didn't often need to sleep, but drink enough and apparently he could pass out, and he dreaded what he'd done the night before in that blank space where he couldn't recall.
Sam shaded his eyes in the dim room and squinted towards the hotel door at the other, the teasing lilt of honey, I'm home grating on coffee-starved nerves. He growled faintly, prickly from his hangover. "Why are you up? Lie back down here." No doubt the lack of a pliant body beside him had been what woke him in the first place.
