Prompt: drunken night

There were few things more amusing than a drunken man was, as long as he wasn't so drunk he was belligerent or stupid.

Donald Flack was just above that line, enough to make her laugh when he tripped over a bar stool and landed with his face in her lap.

"Hi there," he said, "You're pretty."

She smiled down at him, hands lifting to tangle in his soft hair, "Why thank you, Don, that's quite a compliment, even from a drunk."

"Not drunk," he said, shaking his head and almost falling again, "A man….a man in love."

"Oh really?" she said, ignoring the swift kick of pain that came with the realization that Don might be drowning himself in alcohol because he was pining after a woman.

Don managed to get to his feet, with help, and collapsed onto a bar stool, "Yes, I'm in loves with a girl, a very beautiful girl. A very strong, beautiful, amazing girl." Don smiled like a moron, "She smells like sunshine."

Stella took a deep breath, "Sounds like quite the lady. So, why aren't you with her right now?"

Don leaned closer, "It's a secret. I can't tell you until I know the answer."

"The answer?"

"To my question."

"What question?" she asked, starting to get a little irritated at the constant talk of another woman.

Don stood, just barely, "Well, Stella, my bella, the question is will you marry me?"

Stella's mouth dropped, "Oh Don, what happened did she say no?"

"I don't know," he said, "Did you?"

Stella's eyes widened, her mouth opening and closing like a fish, "I…I…."

"Loves me like I loves you," he said, "Also, I think we should get married in spring."

With that Don passed out on top of her.

It wasn't until the next morning that he got to hear the answer to his question.

Yes.