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It's not often that Reagan stays sober while Ron drinks. Well, she had a glass or two, but when you drink as much as she does, a little sip of alcohol doesn't really affect you anymore.
But its okay. She doesn't need it to enjoy herself anymore.
In fact, she's having way more fun watching Ron slowly act less and less like himself. Maybe being sober does has its perks, because she's having fun knowing she'll remember all the stupid shit he's doing tonight.
"Reagan," Ron grumbles, reaching over the table to put his hand over the table. "Kiss me."
"We're in public," Reagan tilts her head, because how could he already forget. He was the one that decided to take her out to such a fancy place anyway. "They'd kick us out."
"Kiss me."
"Are you even listening?"
"Kiss. Please?"
Reagan has to physically stop herself from laughing when Ron starts pouting at her. Have you ever seen a man in his thirties pout while he tilts his head? Yeah, she never thought she'd see it too.
"Are you still in there, Ron?" With a shit-eating grin, she puts her unoccupied hand up, before raising her middle finger. "How many fingers am I holding up?"
Ron's face goes from a cute pout to the annoyed expression that she was so, so, familiar with when they first met.
"Ha, ha. I'm not that out of it." As if he's trying to make a point, he takes his hand back and uses it to take another sip of his drink. "You're so mean. Which is kind of hot. Really hot. But still."
Reagan just stays quiet and grins. She wants to see what would happen if she just lets him keep blabbering.
"I mean. I do like it when you're nice to me. It's sweet too. Both sides of you are great. Why are you not speaking? Say something." Ron stays quiet for a few seconds, before just sighing defeatedly when Reagan just laughs at him again. "I miss your voice."
"That was just ten seconds of silence." Reagan doesn't even react when Ron just gently kicks her with his foot under the table. "You survived, didn't you?"
"Horrible. Horrible ten seconds. Never do that again, please."
"Okay, I'm cutting you off."
"What? Reaaa, noooo." Ron protests, trying to keep his grip on his drink, but Reagan takes it without any effort. He tries to reach other to get it back, but she just keeps it out of his reach.
Defeated, he sighs and just pouts at her again. Is he just going to keep on doing that?
Not that she minds. It's just a bit funny since a lot of the times, his expressions are pretty guarded. When she'd glance at him through her peripheral vision, she'd notice him smiling widely or frowning in a way thats almost cute. But when he noticed that she was looking, he'd control his expressions ever so slightly.
But now, he's just full on emoting.
It's endearing.
And funny.
Reagan takes out her phone, trying to snap a picture of him like this. Maybe she can make it her new homescreen.
Ron groans at the flash, hiding his face by laying it on the table. Reagan rolls her eyes, before using her free hand to grab his chin, making him face her.
"Smile," she orders.
As expected, he just grumbles at her while begrudgingly looking at the camera.
Cute.
Reagan is obviously the one that drives them both home that night.
Ron is in the passenger seat, and every time she glances at the rearview mirror, she sees him just full on staring at her. Usually, when Reagan drives, Ron looks out the window while absent-mindedly tapping his fingers to whatevers song is on the radio.
So, driving feels a bit weird when she knows that there's just eyes staring at her less than a feet away.
"Is there something on my face?" Reagan asks, although she already knows there's nothing.
"Beauty." Ron hums, and he looks absolutely proud of himself for coming up with that response. Reagan rolls her eyes, putting her thumb down in response to the corniest thing Ron could've possible said in this situation, and he fucking giggles before taking her hand and making it rest on his thigh.
Okay. Passenger princess Ron is very touchy.
When they arrive at his apartment, Ron slumps on Reagan before she could even put the key in the door.
"Ron, c'mon. We need to get in." Reagan huffs, trying to balance herself and the 5'7 man currently putting his entire body weight on her.
"Mhmmmm." Ron just hums, and Reagan knows he's not listening because he just leans his body further into hers.
Okay. This is fine.
Somehow, some-fucking-how, she manages to get them both in Ron's bed.
As soon as Ron makes contact with soft covers, he lets out the biggest sigh.
Reagan just sits on the edge of the bed, a hand playing with his hair. This entire night, he's been hurling compliments at her as he just stares. Usually, people — even Reagan herself — do stupid shit when they're drunk. But Ron has just been so sweet this entire night.
Her hand goes down to scratch behind his ear, and she could see the corners of his mouth perk up into a smile.
It's a quiet moment between them. Reagan and Ron talk a lot, and every minute together is usually filled with anything but silence. Often times, they'd both have matching comments about a minor detail in their surroundings, whether its a diss on the music that's currently playing in public, or a complaint about a smell, or a niche reference about something only two people that work in secret societies can make.
Now, the loudest thing here is the air conditioner.
"Ron, don't sleep on your back." Reagan finally breaks the silence as Ron shifts in his sleep. He's groggy as he blinks, but he lets her maneuver him until he's sleeping on his side anyway. Of course, his eyes start to close after a few more seconds.
Just as Reagan even thinks about standing up, Ron's head as found its way to her lap. Even in his sleep, he doesn't want her to go.
That's okay.
Reagan wants to stay, too.