Warning: Alcohol, profanity, crude humor, sex… Nothing new.

A/N: I got bitten with the one-shot bug, whoops. Happy (belated) Valentine's Day!

"I still can't believe the Leafs won, babe!" Jonesy exclaimed as he and Nikki burst into their apartment. "They really won!"

She chuckled as she stumbled towards the couch and took a seat beside him. Though her boyfriend had known for hours now that the Leafs won the Stanley Cup, he wouldn't shut up about it. She found it more endearing than annoying.

"Someone's excited," she teased, running a finger up and down his arm.

"Very, babe. Very. This is the best day ever!"

She rolled her eyes. It was just another day to her, or, at least, another day filled with shouting, shots, and celebration. She could care less about the hockey, but the afterparty, on the other hand, was a different story. (His friends had decent taste in liquor and their girlfriends made excellent conversation.)

"You know, I may not care about the goddamn sport that much, but it's good to see you happy."

He smiled, appreciating her tolerance. "It's a good look on me, isn't it?"

She smirked. "You wish, Jonesy."

"Pssht, I know." She lightly shoved him before he fell quiet, his grin fading into a half-smile. "You know, it would be nice to be in the NHL, even though I'm not going pro." Despite having dreams of playing professional hockey for years, he finally decided to let them go in favor of studying business, seeing that he had a knack for it. Besides, playing for his college hockey team was good enough for him. "It must be the best feeling in the world to win the Stanley Cup, to have an assload of fans rooting for you."

"Probably so…" She caressed his cheek. "But—listen—whether you're in the NHL or not, I'll always be your number one fan."

He chuckled. "You must be drunk right now if you're talking like that; plus, you're getting a little handsy."

"First, just because I had a couple beers and a shot doesn't mean I'm drunk; you know it takes more than that to get me wasted."

"Yeah, that's true. I love a woman who can hold her liquor."

"Second," she said, ignoring him, "you know you like it when I touch you. And third, I'm probably your only fan, Garcia."

"Yeah, I do… Wait a minute—hold up—I have other fans."

She crossed her arms. "Groupies don't count, especially not that group of blonde bimbos that show up to each one of your games."

He raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you're jealous, babe."

"I'm not jealous; I'm just stating facts. I can tell by the way they look at you and all the other guys on the team that they love more than just the game."

"They could all be cheering naked and I wouldn't care."

She scoffed. "Really?"

"Well, maybe I'd care just a little bit. But the girls on the stands, Nik—they don't matter. And you know why? Because when I'm on the ice, there's only one woman on my mind."

Nikki smiled, appreciating his reassurance.

"Beyoncé."

She rolled her eyes and scooted away from him. "You have such a way with words, Garcia," she deadpanned.

"Babe, I'm kidding."

She continued to ignore him.

"Nikki, I was just kidding."

She cut her eyes at him. "And I was just about to show you the things that only a number-one fan could do to you, but—seeing that Beyoncé has filled that role—I'll leave that to her."

"Wait, what kinds of things are we talking about?" he asked before realizing that wasn't the point. "I'm sorry, Nikki. Anything I can do to make you not be mad at me?"

She glanced at him and grinned. "No, I think I iced you out long enough."

"You mean you were just pretending to be mad at me?"

"I was more annoyed than anything." Moving close to him again, she said, "Beyoncé's not aware of your existence, but I am. Just remember that."

He chuckled when she tapped him on the nose. "I will. Trust me."

"You better." Moments later, she crawled onto his lap and threw her arms over his shoulders. "Remember who used to show up to all your games, even before she was your girlfriend?"

"You."

"Mmhmm… And remember who was at the hospital when you got a concussion after your big sophomore-year game?"

"You."

"Yep." She caressed his cheek. "And remember who hugged and kissed you even when you lost your junior-year championship?"

"You." He smiled, reminded of how warm her words were after that game had ended. Even though he lost, she still found a way to make him feel like he was the king of the world. "I'm sensing a trend here."

She gazed at him and said, "Exactly," before kissing on his lips.

The gang had attended his games and supported him with such vigor since they were kids, but—especially after becoming his girlfriend—no one saw him through every moment like Nikki did. She always cared. After they parted, he confessed, "Wow, you really are my number-one fan."

"Did you ever have a doubt about it?"

"Well…"

She snorted. "Shut up." After giving him longer, more lingering kisses, she said, "If you want to, we can celebrate the Leafs winning again."

He perked up. "Really?"

"Yes, really. I mean, of course, you and your friends"—and she and the other girlfriends—"got your kicks after the game, but we haven't yet."

Smirking, he said, "You make a great point."

"I'll go get the vodka."

"And I'll get the foam fingers."

"Ah, the foam fingers," she deadpanned. "As if we were missing something." Her boyfriend should break the world record for having the most hockey paraphernalia.

She strolled to the fridge and grabbed a half-empty bottle of vodka, along with a couple glasses, returning to the living room at the same time as her boyfriend.

Jonesy wagged his eyebrows at her as she poured their drinks. "So tonight's one of those nights, huh?"

She smirked. "Yep. Except this time we're not pointlessly getting fucked up—we're getting fucked up because your favorite team won and that has made you very happy."

"Well I'm very okay with this," he said, picking up his glass and taking a gulp, hoping that she didn't notice him wincing.

She totally noticed, but she hardly cared. She loved the calming burn of vodka; it felt natural to her. Despite her nonchalance, she still preferred to pick on him about it. "I'm definitely the only one in this apartment who can withstand the burn."

"No, you're not," he denied.

"You know I totally saw you flinch after drinking. So you can really handle dislocated shoulders and concussions better than a little fire in your throat?"

"Yeah! ...Wait, no!"

"Hmm, that's what I thought," Nikki said before downing the rest of her drink in a single gulp.

Not to be outdone, he grabbed the bottle from the coffee table, unscrewed the cap, and took several long gulps. His throat was on fire, but, for the sake of his pride, it was worth it.

She looked him up and down. "Nice."

"Thanks. Really puts a few hairs on your chest."

She trailed a finger up and down his chest. "Speaking of chests, I wouldn't mind seeing you shirtless."

"And I wouldn't mind knowing what you had in store for me."

She raised a brow.

"Remember earlier? You said you were gonna show me things that only a number-one fan could do."

"Oh, that's right." She sent him a sultry look as she placed her hand in his lap, rubbing in circles. "What do I wanna do first?"

A warmth overcame him, and it wasn't just the liquor. He took a deep breath. "Ooh, babe—keep touching me like that and I might not last long."

As her focus shifted to the hem of his shirt, she said, "Then let's do something else."

Soon enough, he found himself topless and pinned against the couch, engaged in red-hot kissing. She had placed her palms against his chest, wanting to feel his skin.

As much as he loved her, he realized the terms of the situation and parted from her, protesting. "Hey, how come I'm shirtless and you're not?"

"Hmm, looks like we'll have to fix that." She sat upright and peeled off her T-shirt, her bra soon following. "Better?"

Euphoric, he said, "Better… way better."

"Good."

After removing the rest of the clothing which stood in her way, Nikki took him on the floor and began to show him incredible things.

He gripped her thighs and smiled once she made herself comfortable on top of him.

"Now I know I'm no Beyoncé, but that won't keep me from making you shout the words to 'Partition.'"

"I'd rather be shouting your name," he said, winking at her.

"Oh, Casanova, you flatter me. You really do." She placed her hands on his chest again, this time keeping herself steady while she slowly rocked back and forth.

He purred.

Her laugh was warm, a little breathy. "Looks like my boyfriend's a hockey player and a cat."

"Hate to break it to you, but I'm not a cat, babe—although I'm pretty into them, if you know what I mean."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm a fan of you, Jonesy, but I'm not always a fan of your jokes."

"Um, you were pretty into me and my jokes earlier."

"Correction: I'm into you, and only you. Your jokes… come with the territory."

He wagged his eyebrows. "My jokes may come with the territory, but I come with you."

She grinned. "Shut up, Jonesy."

"I'll think about it," he said with a smirk.

With the desire to go faster (and the liquor) really kicking in, she teased, "Are you sure you're a hockey player, because you're really acting like you play golf."

Not amused by having his pride insulted twice in one night, he grabbed her waist and coaxed faster movements out of her.

"Mmm, someone's really taking charge…"

"Mmm, someone's looking really hot."

Her cheeks flushed as she giggled. "Jonesy."

"I mean, let's be real here, Nik. You look way better than any of the girls at my games, and you're the only one worth taking home—the only one I want to take home." His hands glided up until they reached her chest. "Shit, your body feels like home."

Maybe it was the vodka affecting her, but hearing this from him sent her into overdrive. "And I want you to live in it all fucking night."

When she began grinding her hips faster, he groaned. "Oh, shit."

"Who's your number one fan?" Nikki asked, panting as she grinded on him.

"You are!" he called. She sent his heart racing.

"Damn right, I am," she asserted. "And I always will be."

His fingers sank into her rear, making sure his grip on her was tighter than ever. He never wanted her to stop.

"I fucking love you," he groaned.

"Love you, too," she said, her voice trembling. She threw her head back in bliss, a sigh soon following.

Even after reaching where they needed to be, their moans and heavy breathing lasted all night.

Nikki awoke with a groan, her mind cloudy. Maybe I need to learn my alcoholic limits, she thought as she sat up. If anyone were to ask her what happened after she straddled Jonesy on the floor, she wouldn't have a clue where to begin.

She placed a palm against her throbbing forehead just as Jonesy woke up and looked at the scene around them. A mess of clothes, two condom wrappers, and a foam finger were scattered on the floor.

"Ugh," she said as she finally realized the room was a mess. "What the hell happened here? And, more importantly, what happened with that foam finger?"

He smirked, recalling mischievous moments from last night. "Fan club meeting."