This oneshot was a special request from multiple people about a drunk Rikkard. I hope everyone likes it :)
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The wine was red.

Rikkard stared at the contents of his glass in a daze, his mind full of nothing but fog.

Why was he drinking? He didn't know. But the wine was red, and it was sitting in front of him. It called his name, like a siren would, and he found himself lifting his glass to his lips once more.

It went smoothly down his throat. He swallowed. Good.

He peered at the glass again. It was almost empty.

"More," he said, holding up his glass. He waited.

Then he remembered--he was alone, not at a bar. There was no one coming to refill his glass.

"Bloody hell," he grumbled, and shot to his feet to retrieve a new bottle of wine. But something was wrong--the world was spinning, and he didn't know why. He tried to step forward, only to stumble uncontrollably. Once he secured his footing, he paused for a moment.

He squinted. The world was still spinning.

"Stupid eyes." He'd replace them later.

Rikkard wobbled unsteadily towards his destination--a cupboard in the very corner of the room. He knew there would be more of the wine in it; wine that he had never opened in the time he had established Empire House. In his line of work, there was usually no time for any sort of alcohol. It impaired one's senses and left them incapable of working; something he despised.

Tonight, however, that all changed.

He nearly ran into the cabinet. His feet seemed to suddenly trip over each other, sending him reeling with every other step. Wrenching open the cupboard door, he seized the first bottle in sight and tried his luck getting it open.

His clumsy fingers refused to cooperate. The lid stayed firmly sealed, and the wine deigned not to come out. He frowned. Maybe I should smash it open? He hesitated, looking at his hands wrapped around the bottle, feeling an uncomfortable sensation he usually never felt--doubt.

It had been years since he had been drunk. This is what was happening to him, he realized, looking down at his disheveled form. The wine had started to get to him. He was falling deeper into the sweet sensation of ignorance, of being so impaired that he wouldn't know the difference between a table and a chair. He was doubting his actions as he performed them, not knowing his right state of mind, grasping at straws to determine what to do.

He hated it.

Angrily, he attacked the lid with more force than what should've been necessary, and was greeted with a splash of wine to the face as the lid flew clean off. It dribbled down his chin and onto his white shirt, now visible thanks to his earlier removal of his waistcoat.

"Damn!" He checked the shirt, watching in irritation as red liquid stained his front. He closed his eyes in frustration, bringing the bottle to his lips.

He drank.

And drank.

And drank.

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The wine was beautiful.

Rikkard stared at the glass in his hands, a loose smile on his lips. Why didn't he get drunk more often? This was amazing. Incredible. He felt unstoppable. Maybe his business would be even more successful if he felt like this all the time.

He absently tilted the rim of the glass, watching it catch the thin rays of light that entered through the window of his office.

"Such a pretty glass," he mumbled to himself. "And wine. Pretty wine, too."

He continued to smile, pushing his drink around the table with his fingers. This was fun.

A knock sounded on his door.

Rikkard didn't notice. His eyes stayed firmly on the glass, making sure it didn't walk away from him. He pushed it in circles this time, watching the wine splash against the sides of the cup.

The knock came again. "Sir?" A voice came to him out of the stillness. He sat up suddenly, his head whipping towards the door frame.

"Mr Ambrose? Sir? I know you're in there! Let me in!" He knew that voice. At least, he thought he did. It sounded very similar to the girl. His girl, he amended, nodding to himself. His girl who did work for him.

"Mr Ambrose!" Rikkard winced as her voice grew louder, clamping his hands over his ears. Maybe he'd better let her in before she broke his eardrums.

"Come in," he said slowly, after analyzing the correct words he needed to invite her in.

"It's about bloody time," the voice muttered, and it swung open. He watched her enter, cheerful again now that she was with him. Maybe she wanted to drink, too.

"Sir, I know it's after hours but I forgot to--" She stopped mid-sentence as she laid eyes on him, taking in his ruffled hair and stained shirt. And, lastly, his expression.

"Are you alright?" She appeared to be in shock for some reason. He couldn't fathom why. He'd only been drinking a little.

"Yes," he said. "I'm fine."

"You look...different." Her voice was strange. Was she okay?

"I'm not diffferent," he said lazily, and grinned, halfheartedly raising his glass of wine. "I'm fine. You're all spinny, though." He frowned at her, scratching his head in confusion. "What's your name again?"

Her eyes grew wider with every passing moment between them. "My name?" she asked in disbelief. "Sir, you've been yelling at me for the past month and a half. You know my name."

Rikkard shook his head insistently. "Not that one. Other one."

Her brows rose in confusion. "What do you mean, my other name? I only have one!"

"Some plant, I think," he mumbled to himself, searching her face to jolt his foggy memory. It was a common plant name, he seemed to remember, but which one? It wasn't Bush. Tree? No, those were too short; she had more than ten letters in her name. Perhaps Shrub? No, that was an ugly name; she wasn't ugly. That couldn't be it.

Then he remembered.

"Flower!" He cried triumphantly, smiling happily at her.

"You're drunk, aren't you." It was a statement, not a question. He watched Flower shake her head slowly at him, oblivious to her sigh of resignation. "I never thought I'd see the day," she said under her breath, and began walking towards the table.

"Drink," Rikkard directed, pushing her the bottle of wine. He sat restlessly, waiting for her to take a sip. When she merely sat down in a chair and left the wine unattended, his happy smile wavered and he began tapping his fingers against his thigh.

"You're not drinking," he said in confusion, his tone a little disappointed. He suddenly grabbed her hand and wrapped it around the bottle, ignoring her small sound of surprise. "Fits like this," he tried to demonstrate how to hold the bottle properly, but his fingers had somehow doubled in number without his knowledge and he struggled to fit the bottle in her small hands.

"Sir," she said gently. "Sir, I can't drink."

"Why not?"

"I just can't. And you shouldn't, either."

His expression turned into that of a petulant child. "But it makes me happy."

"It isn't good for you," said Flower.

"How d'ya know?" He shot back.

"I've had experience, trust me," she sighed. "You have to let go of the bottle now. You'll drink yourself into oblivion, otherwise." Her hands moved to cover his, trying to pry the bottle out of his grasp.

Rikkard looked down at their hands almost intertwined, fascinated. He couldn't recall ever holding her hand before, but he vaguely remembered imagining what it would feel like many times previously.

He felt the bottle being firmly pulled away from him, and resisted again, tugging it back towards his chest. His gaze darted back and forth between her face and their hands on the bottle.

"Mine," he told her.

Flower shook her head, pulling it to her side again. "No. Mine."

"Mine!" Tug.

"Mine!" Pull.

"Stop!" Tug.

"You stop." Pull.

"No!" Tug.

"Yes." Pull.

Rikkard glowered as he snatched the bottle back once more.

"Mine," he said.

"Fine," Flower said. "I'll make you a deal."

He paused. "What?"

"A deal," she repeated. "If you stop drinking, then I won't complain about fetching files for you for a whole day."

Rikkard took a long time to consider this, as the gears in his brain seemed to be a little rusty. He didn't want to stop drinking. It was fun, and the wine was pretty, and he was feeling lighter than he had in years. He also didn't think her end of the bargain was that great--if he was to give up something that made him feel this good, then she should be able to give him something equally as good.

He was still a tactician through and through, even when his mind was on vacation and his thought process too slow for his liking.

Rikkard frowned at the girl in front of him and shook his head. "New deal," he said.

"What's wrong with--"

"New deal," he said firmly. "I don't like your terms."

Flower rolled her eyes. "Then what do you want? What's going to make you stop drinking?"

He had to think for a moment. What did he want? Well, he certainly wanted wine, but if he couldn't have that...His eyes roamed around the room, searching for an answer. They eventually traced the outline of the bottle, still in his hands, and continued their path upwards, stopping at Flower's hands.

Rikkard blinked for a second, staring at the white, slender palms, the delicate wrists and plain nails. He found the vein that decorated the back of her hand, and a freckle just past the wrist bone.

"I want to hold your hand," he blurted.

Her mouth dropped open in an expression of perfect surprise, her brown eyes wide as she looked at him. Her cheeks suddenly turned the slightest bit red and he marveled at the sight. He'd never seen her blush like this before. Maybe he should tell her that more often.

"You....you want to...what?" She was floundering for something to say, apparently in shock, and he wasn't sure why.

"I'll stop drinking if I can hold your hand," he clarified, hoping she'd understand this time. He'd made the decision without consulting his brain. Seeing her hands had suddenly sent some kind of impulse throughout his body, a sense of longing that he could not ignore. He wanted to hold her hand and see it fit comfortably in his. It was a feeling that wouldn't go away.

Flower was still blushing, her eyes sliding away from his. She was in a frazzled state, running her hands through her hair, mouth opening and closing as if she wanted to say something but the words wouldn't come. He waited patiently for her to answer. Maybe her thought process is slow too. He smiled again at the thought. Then he wouldn't be the only one with a sluggish brain!

"Can I?" He asked slowly, trying to get her to look at him by leaning forward in his chair. "I'll give you the bottle."

"I..." She hesitated, her eyes flickering from his face to the bottle still in his hands. "I, um, well...if you really want too, I guess," she faltered, and then began to nod, as if to reassure herself. "Hand it over," she gestured towards the bottle, and he gave it to her, watching as she put it far from his reach.

"C'mere," he said, suddenly eager. "Your turn now." She hesitantly scooted closer to him, her chair making the slightest noise against the floor. He looked at her face before gently lifting one of her hands and taking it in his.

There was almost an instant change in the atmosphere.

Rikkard intertwined their fingers together, searching her features for any signs of distress. Even if he was comfortable, it didn't mean she was. But he was happy to note that she didn't seem anxious. Rather, Flower seemed slightly shy as she watched his thumb trace small, geometric circles on her skin.

She wasn't nervous anymore, it seemed, and he was glad, because he was quite enjoying holding her hand and didn't want to let go.

It was like magic how this made him feel. Her hand was warm and her touch sent sparks shooting up his arm, setting his heart ablaze and striking deep into his soul. He felt like a sunbeam on a summer's day, aglow with a happy light that radiated a tangible joy. There was something in the way his fingers curled around hers, a protective grip that somehow also spoke of a gentle softness. He was handling her with a reverence he had never shown anyone.

Something clicked into place all at once, and then in his brain came the echoes of a name lodged in the depths of his mind, a name he had thought of over and over again for the past month and a half. It was the real name of the girl who he was sitting by, this girl who had somehow taken hold of his rational self.

"Lillian," he whispered, and she looked up at him then, the light from the window falling into her eyes, making them sparkle.

"You remember," Her voice was a breeze, washing over him, putting his mind at ease.

He smiled down at her, still drunk, still full of a bright emotion he couldn't name.

Rikkard squeezed her hand. "Of course I do," he said, and settled back in his chair. He turned to watch the shower of stars that had peeked through his window.

"Look," he pointed out the window as the stars winked at him.

"How pretty," she remarked, her lips curving upwards as she took in the wondrous sight.

He shook his head. "You're prettier."

He felt rather than saw the grin that lit up her face. He'd never said something like that aloud in his entire life, not that he knew of, anyway, and wondered where the statement had come from. Then he shoved it away and decided it didn't matter.

"You really think so?" She asked softly.

Rikkard frowned. "I'd never lie to you." He sounded miffed.

"Promise?"

"I promise I think you're pretty," he replied, puzzled why she didn't believe him.

Then the confusion was forgotten as he felt Lilly rest her head on his shoulder. He shifted a little in surprise, looking down at her, then at their intertwined hands.

She said nothing to explain her action, and he thought it was probably best left unsaid. He preferred silence, after all. He merely resumed running circles into her smooth skin, content just to be with her.

For a long time, they watched the stars dance above them as the night wore on, and their hearts beat with the steady rhythm of light.
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A/N: So this was interesting to write. I'm not quite sure how Rikkard would actually act when drunk but this was my version of him being an adorable fluffball when he's too intoxicated to realize he's showing emotion ;)

Did the flow of this oneshot seem a little choppy to you? It seems a little off when I read it, but maybe it's just me lol. Sorry if Rikky and Lilly seem a little out of character or if the oneshot is a little awk in some spots. I didn't have time to edit this a lot, so I know it needs some work haha. The ending especially is a little random so I'll definitely be fixing that.

What did you think? Questions? Comments? Concerns?

Sorry for the late update! School is holding me captive at the moment :(

Thanks for reading and don't forget to VOTE or COMMENT if you enjoyed!! :D