Your POV

"Bed!" I shout as I flop onto my soft bed. "I've missed you." I stay on my bed, not wanting to stand. It feels good to be back in my flat, my room, my bed.

It's not until my stomach rumbles that I realise I have no food. No food means shopping. And shopping means getting out of bed. I could order pizza, but I've had pizza almost everyday while in Australia. I roll off my bed and try standing but fail completely and land face first.

"For fuck sakes, Y/N. Just be a human for once!" I shout at myself. I stand up and walk out of my room and into the living room. I put on my shoes which I had just taken off, grab my purse and keys, and walk down the many steps and out the front door.

~Time skip~

"Stairs, again. Such fun," I mutter to myself. But I manage to climb up them, mainly because the thought of eating my new tub of ice cream and binge watching American Horror Story (season of choice) gives me the motivation to solider on and defeat these damn stairs!

Once I get to the top, I groan. I have over a thousand (more like five) bags full of groceries in my hands and I have to unlock the door. I carefully place the bags on the ground and pull out my key. I unlock the door and turn to pick up my bags. Because the universe is an absolute cunt and hates my guts, the handles of two of the plastic bags decide to break, causing me to drop them and have their contents spill out all over the floor.

"Fuck you, plastic bags. And fuck you, whoever thought they were a good idea," I curse. I hear a familiar chuckle and look up.

"You alright?" I roll my eyes.

"I'm fine. Go back to whatever the fuck you were doing, Howell," I scowl. I bend down and begin to pick up all my precious food. I'm about to reach for the popcorn when a large, pale hand beats me to it.

Dan.

"Are you deaf? I don't need your help. Go and browse Tumblr or stare at Phil with your heart eyes."

"No, I am not deaf. You told me to go back to what I was doing. I came to talk to you." I freeze.

Okay, yes, there's still a bit of tension between us. Why? I don't fucking know.

"Can I just come in?" He asks after a long period of silence. I nod and pick up the remainder of my groceries and put them in a spare and non-handle-less bag. "Let me help you."

"I can do it myself, Dan."

"I don't care." His soft hand brushes against mine as he takes some of the bags. We walk up the stairs and put the bags in the kitchen. As Dan stands awkwardly in the doorway, I put all the stuff away and turn to him.

"Okay, what do you want?"

He takes a big breath and looks into my eyes. "I want to say I'm sorry. I know it's hard to believe a person if they're drunk, or even a little tipsy, but- ugh, I'm sorry, I just... can't say the rest. Can you forgive me? Please?"

I stare into his eyes. Oh, Dan. I forgave you as soon as I decided I was pissed at you.

"Yeah, okay then. But on one condition."

"And that is?"

"You must say 'Evan Peters and Y/N are my OTP and I give them my blessing to get married.'"

"Evan Peters can go- I mean, you can go fuck yourself, he's mine."

"Say it!" I demand.

"Fine!" He says throwing his arms up in surrender. "Evan Peters and Y/N are my OTP and I give them my blessing to get married."

"Good, Danny," I stand on my tiptoes and reach my hand up to ruffle his hair. "Now, speaking of Even Peters, lets go watch some American Horror Story." I grab the tub of icecream and a spoon and run out to the living room to put on American Horror Story. Dan walks in and looks at the tub of icecream.

"I hope you're going to share that." He crosses his arms.

"Hmmmmm, nope," I reply, sticking my tongue out at him.

"Too bad," he says as he picks up the icecream and sticks his spoon into it.

"Hey!" I whine. "That's my icecream!"

"Sharing is caring," he winks. I roll my eyes and take a seat next to him.

~Time skip~

I look into the empty tub and frown. "Dan~" I sulk. "This was supposed to be my icecream."

"Awww," he chuckles. "How can I repay you?"

"Hmmm, either a bigger tub of icecream, a chocolate fountain, Evan Peters, My Chemical Romance reunion or Buckingham Palace."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Um, I had a different idea," he says, nervously looking around and scratching the back of his neck.

"And what exactly was that?"

"You, me, tomorrow night."

"I already spend most of my nights with you," I chuckle.

"Yeah, but I mean, like, uhhhh." He looks up and our eyes lock. "A date?"