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"I would never have thought a lady could drink me under the table." Simon eyed her owlishly from his new seat on the floor. "I could have sworn you had more of--of everything, than I did."
"You've been permanently on duty for the past thirty years," Alys said tolerantly. "I've been attending Vorish parties. They don't expect the women to keep up with the men, of course, but I wouldn't be able to do my job if I couldn't hold my drink." She studied him. "Can you get up, or shall I call a servant?"
"I think," Simon pronounced after a moment's serious consideration, "the floor will stop moving in a minute."
Alys stifled a laugh at his expression. It had been a long evening, with cocktails at the theatre and then some excellent wine with their late dinner here at Vorkosigan House afterwards, and Alys was pleasantly tipsy, more so than she usually permitted herself to get. Simon had seemed to be no worse off than she, sitting down, and it wasn't until he'd tried to get up that she'd realised just how affected he was. But evidently she should have warned the servants not to keep topping up his glass quite so enthusiastically.
She went over and offered him a hand. Her experience with drunk men was comprehensive, but Simon was the only one she found actively charming rather than annoying, repellent or alarming. He got up on the second attempt, and leaned back against the wall in a simulacrum of his usual holding-up-the-wall posture. The effect was rather altered by the slight angle he was holding himself at, and his expansive smile.
"All right," she said. "Let's get you to bed."
"I like the sound of that." Simon found his balance and wavered towards the door separating the sitting-room from his bedroom. Alys took his arm and steered him through the door before he collided with the frame. This didn't quite work, because while it meant he stayed on his feet, he stopped walking and draped himself around her, nuzzling her neck. "Mmm," he murmured into her ear. "You smell very good." He turned and kissed her, uninhibited and happy, pulling her hard against him with a sound of deep content. Alys wrapped her arms around him, feeling light and carefree and twenty again. It had been so long since she'd felt quite this relaxed.
Simon leaned into the kiss, Alys rocked on her feet, and inevitably, they overbalanced. Some combination of Alys's dancing reflexes and Simon's combat training saved them from an entirely undignified collapse, instead careening into the wall and catching themselves on it, both breathless and laughing. Simon pulled her to him. "If Miles saw us now--" he began between splutters, and Alys put her head against his chest and shook with laughter.
"It is very good to be off duty," he said after a few moments as they both recovered their breath. "Very good."
"You've earned it," she said. More than earned it. Painful images from a few weeks ago flickered through her mind, and she tightened her arm around Simon, letting his obvious happiness now ease her.
He rested his head against hers. "So have you," he murmured, his voice starting to slur. "Ah, my darling Alys..." He yawned, sinking a little more against her, and Alys pulled herself straight.
"Come on, love, you'd better lie down."
She aimed Simon through the door and towards his bed. He stumbled after her, and sat on the side of the bed with a groan. "I haven't been this drunk since the night we celebrated my promotion to lieutenant. Well, apart from that time Aral... never mind that." He was blushing, Alys would swear. She would have to get that story out of him sometime.
"You are impressively sloshed, my dear," she said. "You can't sleep in your clothes, you'll ruin that suit." She began to slide the jacket off his shoulders, and he obligingly shrugged out of it.
"I think you're more concerned for my clothes than me," he said mock-accusingly as she placed the jacket carefully over a chair, leaving him to wrestle with the shirt buttons.
"It took me twenty years to get you into this suit. You're not going to ruin it after that. Oh, stop, stop, you'll have those buttons off--" she added distractedly as he tugged unsuccessfully on his shirt. He let his hands fall, smiling more than a bit foolishly at her, and she unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off. He was wearing a holster under the shirt, she discovered, and she unbuckled that too. Simon's grin grew even broader when she stripped him of his trousers, but she promptly carried them off to fold and place neatly with the jacket, and Simon flopped back onto the bed before she returned, his eyes losing their focus.
"Mm... Alys..." he murmured as she stood over him for a moment, extending a hand vaguely in her direction.
"I'll come to bed in a moment," she said with a smile, beginning to divest herself of her own dress. Simon's gaze tracked her movements; his mumbled commentary wasn't quite audible, which Alys faintly regretted. She went to the washroom to clean up and take off her makeup.
When she returned five minutes later, Simon was starting to snore. Alys gave a rueful smile and climbed in beside him. Even in this condition, he startled awake as she joined him, then draped an arm around her after identifying her as not-a-threat, and went straight back to sleep. She nestled against him, and he smiled in his sleep, mumbling her name. Alys kissed his forehead lightly and curled her hand over the back of his head, over the small patch where his hair was growing back. The road here had been very hard, but she had him off duty at last, safe and whole in all the ways that mattered and miraculously, beautifully happy.