One Direction Prefrences and Imagines

Prefrence #52 "He gets drunk"

Note: I just feel like it's funny and cute when the boys get drunk so I am going to write about it!

Harry:

Harry:
"You’re drunk." You accused Harry.  Your curly haired boyfriend reeked of alcohol.  "You said you were only going out for a pint."
"Sorry."  He said in a moment of near sobriety before continuing to count his toes.
"I’ll save you some time, Harold.  You have ten."  He looked up at you sadly, like you had ruined his favorite game.

Harry had wanted a boy’s night out, and you had grudgingly agreed he deserved it.  Liam was out of town, and you thanked whatever deity there was that Zayn had had the foresight to call him a cab.  Judging by his grand entrance, in which he had fallen (three times), his balance might’ve been slightly affected by his alcohol intake.  You hadn’t counted on him getting drunk off his arse tonight - you two had always been drunk together.
"Let’s get you in bed."  You said, attempting and failing to lift him off the floor.  
"I like the way you think,"  He slurred, winking.
"Not like that.  You need to sleep this off."
"NONONONONONONONO!!!"  He replied, forcing the words into one syllable.
"Harold, you’re being childish."  You sighed.  
He stuck his tongue out in response.  “Not gonna-not gonna…”  He trailed off.
"Sleep?" You offered, exasperated. 
"Yeah. Sweeep.”  
You didn’t correct him, covering your eyes.  “Harry, put your pants back on!”

It was going to be a long night.

Louis:
"Let’s get the gang together," they said.  "It’ll just be a small party," they said.

You really hadn’t wanted anything that special for your 21st birthday, just a small get together with the guys and their girlfriends, and maybe a few of your old high school buddies.  Unfortunately, you had let Louis do the planning, and the party was anything but small.  Streamers and confetti littered the floor along with red plastic cups of spiked punch.  The latest hit blasted from the stereo and you were soon lost amid the mass of bodies.  All you wanted was to find your boyfriend and down a few Tylenol.  “Louis!”  You called, to no avail.  The speakers drowned out all other noises in the flat.  One of the dancers recognized you, and soon you were mobbed by shouts of “Happy Birthday!”  
"Oi!  You lot! Out of the way!"  Louis, thank god, looking a little wobbly.  "The sass master - hic - from Doncansta is comin’ through.  Excuse you.  Excuse you.  Excus- Y/N!”   You embraced Louis tightly, glad that he had rescued you from the crowd. 

Then it hit you like a ton a bricks.  The walk, the voice…
"Y/N, I’m drunk." Louis announced happily.  Joy.
"Louis!"  You shrieked.  
"Yes, my dearest peekaboo wallflower?"

(Drunk Louis was confusing Louis.)
"Wha’?"  You shook off your confusion.  "You’re DRUNK?"
He nodded gleefully before looking worried, reaching out to touch your face.  “Y/N!  Y/N, what’s happening to you?”  He grabbed your cheeks and pinched them forcefully.  “Y/N, there’s two of you!”
"What?"  You replied intelligently.
"Y/N, don’t die.  Promise Lou-bear you won’t die."
"I won’t die?"  You replied tentatively. Louis prodded you onwards, and you continued dubiously.  "I promise Lou-bear that I will do my best not to die."
"Good." Louis replied.  "I love you too much to let you die."
"Love you too, Lou-bear." You were never gonna let him live that name down.
"Y/N, why is the room spinning?"  Louis asked, confused. "Y/N?"

And that’s about when he fainted.

Niall: 

"Hello?"  You answered the phone groggily.
"Is this Y/N Y/L/N?" The unfamiliar voice on the other end of the line asked.
"Yes, that’s me," you replied.  "Who is this?"
"Oh," a laugh, "this is awkward."
"Yeah…"  You trailed off.  
"You’re Niall’s girl, right?"
"I guess," you laughed.  You and Niall had only been dating for two months, and you’d never been referred to that possessively.
"Great.  He’s been asking for his princess - guessing that’s you?"
"Yeah, that’s me."  You said, a touch of happiness in your tone.  Princess.
"Listen, I’d love to chat, but can you come down to the pub and pick Niall up?", the voice asked.
"Fine," you mutter under your breath, getting out of bed, "who are you, anyway?"
"Greg, Niall’s-"
You cut him off.  “brother,  I know.”  Niall had told you all about his family, rather extensively, because they were coming to visit in two days.  “You’re not supposed to be here yet!”
"Came early."  Greg explained while you grabbed your keys. 

You were at the pub five minutes later, and there was Niall, leaning on his brother.  “Nialler?”  You asked.
"Princess!"  He exclaimed, lurching forward and enveloping you in a tight, albeit drunken, hug.  "They - they thought you weren’t gonna come, but I knew."  You let a happy tear fall.  Something told you he wasn’t just talking about picking him up from the pub.  "I never gave up on you, Princess."

Zayn: 

Your boyfriend could be a real pain in the arse sometimes, you reflected.  You and Zayn had decided to go clubbing together, but he was being so boring.  You two hadn’t left the bar, and you looked over at the dancing crowd enviously.  Normally, just talking to Zayn would be enough, but you were denied this as well, Zayn getting quieter and quieter after each drink.  “Zayyynnnn.”  You complained.  “Talk to me.”
"Mmm?"  He said, meeting your gaze.  "What about?"
"Forget it," you muttered, watching the thong of bodies and wishing yourself and Zayn there. 

"I’m going to dance."  You announced, surprising yourself.  Zayn raised an eyebrow but said nothing, downing another drink. 
You walked over to the crowd, easily slipping inside.  You began to dance, as if you didn’t have a care in the world, and then a taller figure was dancing with you.  He was behind you, pressing his body into you.  You were about to slap hin before you realized that it was Zayn.  You continued to dance with Zayn, songs changing and then -
"What the fuck do you think you’re doing, mate?"
Zayn’s voice, and it sure as hell wasn’t coming from the man you’d been dancing with.  Your eyes widened, realizing the truth, and you jumped away from the boy you thought was your boyfriend. 
"Zayn?"  You asked.  He didn’t glance at you, fists clenched tightly.  "Zayn, it’s not worth it."  You grabbed his hand, leading him away, and he let you guide him, never turning his back on the guy you danced with.
"Why, baby?"  He asked when you got outside.  "Why did you dance with him?  Was it something I did?"
"I thought he was you."  You explained cautiously.  Zayn looked pissed, his fists clenched at his sides.
"I hated it.  I hated him." He spat, and you thought that his past-tense verbs were a bit exaggerated. 
"I know."  You replied. 
"I was going to beat the shit out of him, you know."
"I know."  You repeated.
"I love you.  Even when I’m really drunk."
"I know."  You repeated for the final time, kissing him.

Liam:

You and Liam entered a bar. “Y/N let’s go home.”
"Why?" You asked, surprised. He smiled, then with the most straight and serious face you’ve ever seen him with, said:
"Y/N…I don’t get drunk."