This was a first; a new experience for him as far as (Y/n) was concerned, and Alfie couldn't help but shake his head, as he carried her into the house. Her head laying on his shoulder while she giggled, once again, at something that Alfie was obviously not privy to. He had always known that she didn't drink; she had never stopped him from partaking, but she had just told him that it wasn't for her. So, to say that he had been a little surprised when she had taken one of the glasses of champagne at the party that they had been invited to, would not be an overstatement; and even more so, when he had found out that she had had a second and then a third. It clear now that one of the reasons that his girl wasn't a drinker, was because she really just couldn't take it. (Y/n) seeming as drunk off three small glasses of champagne, as he would be from several large servings of his own rum. Alfie shaking his head again, as he remembered how she had been singing and laughing all night; though it wasn't until she had climbed onto the table to dance, that he knew it was time to get her home. The Londoner shrugging off his coat, after placing her down on the sofa. Shaking his head yet again, as she looked up at him dreamily; with a large, Cheshire cat grin, spread across her face, as he took a seat next to her.

"Has.......has anyone ever told you that you are beautiful, Alfred Solomons.........?" (Y/n) asked, as she placed her hand on Alfie's face and let it slide down. Alfie rolling his eyes, when she put her chin on his shoulder and let out a sigh.

"Only you could think that this ugly mug was beautiful, sweetheart......."

"That is not true..........." (Y/n) defended, sitting bolt upright. Her brows furrowed.

"Misses Goldstein, down the road told me that she thought you were the most handsome man..........."

"Misses Goldstein is fuckin eighty-five........"

"Exactly, so she has seen enough men to know what she is talking about. She said that if she were forty or fifty years younger, she would steal you away from me.............You aren't going to leave me for Misses Goldstein, are you........?" Alfie unable to stop himself from laughing as (Y/n) pouted at him. The big Londoner placing his arm around her shoulder so that he could pull her to him.

"As temping as it may sound, I ain't planning on it, luv. I can't say that she's, my type. Though she does make some fuckin good brisket..........." (Y/n) giving an agreeing hum. Anyone knowing anything, knowing that the old lady's brisket, just melted as you put it into your mouth; so, she couldn't argue with that.

"And Misses Douglas thinks that you're handsome; and the widow Jenkins too.........." She continued, pushing her hand underneath his shirt so that she could move her fingers across his stomach, while she hummed to herself. Alfie shuddering at the thought of the old Emily Douglas that worked in the fish markets, who had one tooth in her head and a cackle like a witch. And then the widow Jenkins who was seventy if she was a day, and had been married five times, to men that had all died. The old girl always claiming that she must just pick sickly men, though she did go through an amazing amount of flypaper whenever she remarried.

"Fuck me, don't get any better does it? Tha fish wife and tha black widow. What happened ta all tha young lasses thinking I was handsome...........?"

"They aren't allowed to think that........." (Y/n) retorted, as she once again sat up. Wobbling a little as she did so.

"You are mine Alfie Solomon's, and don't you forget it........" She continued. Poking at his chest with every word. Trying to look as serious as possible.

"You are mine........aren't you...........?"

It really was odd seeing (Y/n) like this. Most of the time she was very logical and self-assured. A smart, confident woman that was never short of a quick retort to anything someone might say. A useful skill given that she spent all day having to deal with the men that worked for him. And she was, as Alfie's mother would have put it, a wise head on young bones. So, to see her so self-conscious, was something out of the ordinary. Alfie always having told her that she was the only woman for him. That no matter what had happened in his past, she was all he needed, now.

"Aye.........." Alfie replied, as he placed his hands on both side of her face, brushing away the tear that was slowly trickling down her cheek.

"I'm yours......." The big Londoner shaking his head for the umpteenth time that night, as (Y/n) sniffed, and smiled again. Alfie, kissing her on the nose before getting to his feet and picking her up.

"Now, lets get ya ta bed, before ya fall over and hurt yaself." He continued. (Y/n) letting out a hum as she rested her head on his shoulder. Her breath quickly changing, and she was asleep before he had even opened the door to the bedroom. Alfie laying her on the bed, before taking off her shoes and then his own. Turning out the light and climbing onto the mattress next to her; readying himself for his next first, his next new experience with her in the morning........(Y/n)'s hangover.