Chapter Text
It had been a busy week at Bob’s Burgers. Memorial Day weekend was among their most successful times of the year when tourists mill about Seymour’s Bay, on the hunt for staple American food.
It was a dream for guys like Bob. A few times a summer, the booths get packed and the Belchers make enough money to keep themselves afloat in their times of drought. And it felt good to see Jimmy Pesto’s lines thin out in favor of Bob’s.
On Monday night, after the kids retired to bed in preparation for school the next day, Bob and Linda plopped down on the couch. They were thankful to be able to be this busy, but God, did it drain them. More so than Teddy’s long, drawn out, painfully boring stories.
Linda was pouring two glasses of wine, one visibly more full than the other. She handed Bob the smaller glass and began to gulp down on the deep red concoction. She grabbed a cracker and munched on it in between sips.
“You know,” Bob started, taking his wine much slower than Linda, “I’m tired, so, so tired, but in a way, it’s…good? Like we’re successful, almost.”
“Bobby,” Linda said, putting her head on Bob’s shoulder, “we are successful. You got three wonderful kids, a restaurant, and a hot, hot wife.”
Bob smiled and kissed Linda’s head. “I do, I really do.”
Soon after, a comfortable silence fell over the pair as they leaned against one another on the couch. Bob let out a sigh of contentment and nuzzled into Linda’s hair.
Suddenly, he heard a vibration in Linda’s head. Thinking she was saying something, he lifted his head to listen.
Bob was met with loud snoring and chuckled as Linda’s head quickly dropped to the side. He looked at the coffee table and investigated the state of their glasses: his was half empty, while hers merely possessed a couple drops left.
As suspected, Linda was wine sleepy, and passes out with all her weight against Bob. Knowing it would be useless to try to get out from her death grip, Bob accepted his fate and nestled into Linda’s embrace.