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She had not been this tipsy in...a while. A long while, considering the pregnancy and all, and then her disappearance. But this was a celebration, and the babies were being babysat by a willing, much to his surprise, Jim and Nyota, so for what seemed the first time in a long time he and Molly got to indulge.
Or overindulge, in Molly’s case.
He was happy to see the very tipsy love of his life was cuddly, now that the tiredness was settling in. Soon would come sleep, and while that may have put a dash in his amorous plans for the evening, he’d still had fun at the party and he’d still kissed his lovely wife at midnight. And while the kiss had been heated he could tell soon she was going to be sleepy, and his guess had been right when she’d sat curled up on his lap, one heel on the table, nuzzling his neck.
So first order? Undress her and get her ready for bed. Second order? Cold shower.
He kept the lights off as he led her to the bedroom, and he let go for just a second, fumbling for the light switch when he heard a thud from the bed area. “Miss the bed?” he asked Molly, humor in his voice.
“I think I know how to use a bed.”
“I’m sure you do, darlin’, but the first order is to sit on it, not fall next to it.” He turned the light on and saw Molly using the bed to stand up. “Want help stripping down into your pajamas?”
“Mmmhmm,” she said with a nod, raising her arms over her head and dropping her heels, which she’d carried in. Even drunk as a polecat hitting the moonshine, she knew she couldn’t walk safely in those strappy things like this and so she’d taken them off before they left the party.
He grinned at her actions and then went over to unzip her dress. “You know, you looked beautiful tonight,” he said. “Never would have been able to tell you just gave birth to Mary not that long ago.”
She sniffed. “’Cause I went home. And not by choice!” He got the dress unzipped and pulled the straps off her shoulders, and then pushed it down to her waist. She took over from there, a little unsteadily, but mostly well enough. Soon she was in her bra and panties, and he reckoned she could handle a night in the bra if she wasn’t up to taking it off.
“Flannel pajamas or the short and camisole duo?” he asked as she sat down on the bed to remove her pantyhose.
“Flannel,” she said. “I’m no fun, aren’t I?”
“No, you were plenty fun at the party. Your tolerance must have gone down when you went back home.”
“No. Atlantis uses too much liquor at the parties,” she said.
“Maybe,” he said with a chuckle, going to the drawers to get her favorite pair of flannel pajamas, the pink plaid ones with kittens chasing yarn balls on them. She thought he hated them but personally, he thought she looked kind of cute in them. He was actually looking for footed onesies in the same pattern for Mary and Rosie, but he was going to wait and surprise her.
She got her pantyhose off as he got to her after she had flopped on the bed. “Still want the pajamas?” he asked, taking in her shut eyes.
“Mmm...” she said. He stood there for a few minutes. “You’d rather have me starkers so you can shag me.”
“You need sleep,” he said with a laugh. “You’re drunk.”
“Yes, I'm drunk. And you're beautiful. And tomorrow morning I'll be sober...but you'll still be beautiful.” She rolled over onto her side, taking up the whole bed right in the middle, and before he could reply he could tell by her even breathing she was asleep. He picked her up, pulled the covers back while still keeping a hold of his sleeping wife, and then tucked her in. “Not as beautiful as you,” he murmured before kissing her forehead. Maybe the cold shower could wait until the morning and he could slip into bed and hold her close.
Yeah. That sounded better.