Imagine dealing with drunk Chris.
A/N: Man, oh man. I just can’t stay away from writing, can I? Well, at least majority of my holiday stuff’s packed. This is another fic inspired by a conversation with the lovely @chrisevans-imagines We have some very weird, but oddly inspiring conversations. Don’t we, Ava? 😂
You pushed your way through the crowd as you searched the overly packed party for your best friend, Chris, who had drunkenly called you ten times in the last hour; it was 2:19AM. He could count himself incredibly lucky that you were finishing up some paperwork at the hospital otherwise you would’ve killed him for interrupting your much needed beauty sleep. You’d been pulling quite a few late nights over the past week as you were about to take leave and go on your holiday, so things hadn’t been particularly easy on you. But you knew before you went into med-school that being a doctor wasn’t going to be easy, what you didn’t know was how much harder it was being a doctor who was best friends with Chris Evans; a man who had the equivalent energy of his puppy, Dodger. If you weren’t so in-love with him, he wouldn’t get away with half the things he put you through. But you were, so here you were at the party.
“Hello beautiful.” An arm hooked around your waist and pulled you into him; you groaned and pushed the drunken stranger off you. “Geez, lighten up!” He called after you as you disappeared further into the room. If you didn’t find Chris in the next five minutes, you were outta there.
“Hell yeah I’ll get it in!” You heard Chris’ voice and you followed it, chuckling when you found him by the ping pong table. “Don’t you worry, I'mma get it into that cup.” He bounced the ball off the table and balanced it on the back of his hand as he swallowed another gulp of his beer. “Watch me nail this th-” He spotted you and his smile tenfold. “Y/N, you came!” He downed his drink and tossed both ball and red solo cup aside before making his way to you, waving off the protests that came from the other players. “Sorry guys, I’m done. My girl’s here,” he draped an arm around you and pulled you closer to him.
“I’m not your girl, Evans.” You reminded him, but made no effort to push him away from you like you had with the other guy; you were very glad that the dim lights hid your deeply flushed cheeks. “I’m just here to make sure you don’t drink and drive, the last thing I need is to be called back in because someone got into a car accident.”
“Awww,” he cooed, squeezing you tightly against him. “Was someone worried about little old me?” You rolled your eyes, but failed to hide your smile. “Don’t be, my best friend’s a very good doctor. She’s very pretty too, like- she could be on Grey’s Anatomy.” He slurred then grinned when he heard you chuckle. “And that’s you,” he booped your nose, “I’m talking about you.”
“I know, and I’m talking about me too when I say I’ve had a very long night and I’m ready to go home.” He nodded with furrowed brows, really trying to process your words. “C'mon,” you wrapped an arm around his waist and directed him towards the exit, “you’re crashing at my place tonight. I’m not leaving you here when someone could literally tap beer out of you.”
“Yes!” He cheered. “I love your apartment, it smells like Christmas because of all the candles you have.” You hummed in acknowledgement at his drunk thoughts. “Hey, you know what’s really funny?” He didn’t wait for a response. “When I read your texts, I read it in an Australian accent because you’re from Australia. I do the same with Chris Hemsworth’s,” he told you then laughed to himself. “G'day mate,” he mimicked a tradition Australia greeting then laughed again.
“I’ve never once texted that to you, nor have I said that to you,” you chuckled. “And since when do I have an Australian accent? I’ve been living in America since I was eighteen, and you know I watch too much American television and too many Hollywood films to have an Australian accent.” The two of you found your way out of the party and into the much emptier parking lot where you car waited patiently. “But then again,” you glanced at him, “you are very wasted, so I won’t hold that against you.”
“Chuck a shrimp on the barbie,” he continued mocking the Australia accent and laughed when you did. “You’re right,” he returned to his normal accent as he pulled away from you, “you don’t sound like that.” He moved in front of you and took your hands in his, smiling like a love sick idiot which made your heart flutter despite knowing it didn’t mean what you wanted it to. “You sound perfect because you are perfect and I love you.”
“I love you too,” you responded with a chuckle, ignoring that ache in your heart. This wasn’t the first time he’d told you he loved you while he was drunk, in fact- he said it all the time when he was sober too. But it wasn’t the confession you longed for, it was just another platonic expression of affection that you shoved aside with your true feelings. “Let’s get you in bed, shall we?” You tried to pull your hands away only to have him tightened his grip.
“No,” he shook his head, furrowing his eyebrows. “You don’t understand, Y/N. I love you,” he said again in a more serious tone that made you sigh. As much as you wanted to reciprocate that feeling and kiss him, you couldn’t take anything he said seriously when he was drunk. Even if you did believe that drunk minds spoke for a sober heart, it was Chris; he was your best friend and you couldn’t ruin that friendship over a drunken slur of the moment. “I want to be with you,” he told you and pulled his hands away to cup your face.
“Chris, no,” you turned away when he started to lean in, taking a small step back. “We’re not going to do this.” You frowned when he did. “You’re drunk, I don’t want-” you cut yourself off before you said more than you should. “Let’s just go home, okay?” You brushed past him and headed for you car, stopping when he called out.
“I’m sober enough to have this conversation!” He walked in front of you with a frown on his face. “I’ve been trying to tell you I love you since the moment I met you, Y/N. But you keep brushing me off, like you think I’m not worth your time.”
“Chris-” you couldn’t believe you made him feel that way.
“Am I not good enough for you?” He asked then asked again before you could get a word in, “are you holding out for another doctor?” You opened your mouth to speak only to get cut off again, “what is it, Y/N? Why won’t you give me a chance?!” He growled and you flinched. “I don’t understand,” he shook his head, his pretty blues glistened with tears. “I’m not an idiot- I can see the way you look at me, so why won’t you be with me?”
“Chris,” you sighed as you took his hand in yours. “I didn’t know you felt that way about me, I honestly thought that you were fine with us just being friends.” He didn’t say anything, he just squeezed your hand ever so gently. “That’s why I didn’t say anything- that’s why I brushed you off. I figured you were joking, it’s not because I don’t think you’re worth my time.”
“Do you realize how long I’ve been waiting for you?” He asked with a breathless chuckle. “From the moment we met- I’ve wanted to be with you. I was just so terrified I wasn’t good enough, that you wouldn’t want to be with an actor so- I took it slow, I started out by being your friend. But God,” he started to cry and your heart ached, “it hurt seeing you with other people. It sucked saying I love you when you didn’t know how much,” his hand tightened around yours. “I’ve wasted so much of my life not being your other half and I hate it, Y/N.”
“You are my other half, Chris,” you caressed his face with your other hand and brushed the tears rolling down his cheek. “I love you too. I’m so in-love with you that it’s ridiculous,” you told him and he smiled. “There is no one I’d rather see at the end of the day than you. You are my person, you are all I see when I look towards the future,” you assured him. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I’m sorry-” He pulled you into his arms and kissed you, cutting you off in the best possible way.
“Wow,” you let out a breathless laugh when he broke the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours.
“Yeah,” he chuckled softly, rubbing small circles into your sides, “I should’ve done that years ago.”
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