013} the cheapest stuff is all i need / to get me back on my feet again

[theresalwayshope]

[Duke has...a lot of interesting stuff in his cabin.

Allison found this out when she was trying to straighten up to distract herself. The place is already fairly neat, so it's a useless distraction from Lydia's snub, from her own impotent fury and the bitter sting of not being trusted by her own best friend. Her heart's not in it...but it wasn't hard to find Duke's liquor.

Or his pot...but she quickly put the joints back where she found them.

She didn't consider the bottle of vodka in his cupboard for long, however, before she got herself a glass of ice and poured herself some. She's never had anything stronger than beer, she doesn't really know what she's doing...but it burns going down, and she feels better in the aftermath of her first sip, loose and warm and good.

After two half glasses, she hurts less. After four, she's well past tipsy. On her fifth, she's well aware she's dangerously close to drunk...so she sips carefully at her next, though she's no longer sure what number drink it is.

When her comm flickers on some time later, the video shows her slouched bonelessly over the kitchen counter in Duke's cabin, her head in her hand. The bottle is visible in the frame, and Allison is visibly fascinated by her drink as she swirls the clear liquid in her glass, ice chinking pleasantly against the equally clear surface. She likes the noise, it's soothing...cheerful.

She's no longer staring at the camera. She seems to have forgotten she flipped her comm on as she mutters to herself, apparently having an internal conversation out loud.]

Stupid boys. Stupid Lydia...Jackson Whittemore is not the biggest douche bag I've ever met, y'know? If you'd...just...had some hot chocolate you'd know that. Jerk...jerkette. [She pauses, smiling a little, amused with her jibe. Her features, however, immediately crumble as she sets her glass down and lets her head thunk against the counter. When she speaks again, she's nearly shouting.]

DUUUUUUUUUKE! Why are you comafied?! I DON'T KNOW IF THIS VODKA IS BAD!

[She pauses, then reaches for her glass as she lifts her head just enough to take a sip, talking around the glass in a very small voice.]

It tastes awful.

[She takes a tiny sip, then smacks her mouth and licks her lips.]

It tasted awful.

[She has another sip, then seems to realize her comm is on and blanches, setting her glass down and reaching for the bottle nearby.]

Hey, guys? Guys! I need to know, 'cause...'cause Duke's comafied. Does...

[She trails off, midway through uncapping the bottle. Torn between remembering what she's drinking and pouring more, she makes an intense and carefully executed operation of pouring more into her glass while nearly pressing her nose against the label of the bottle.]

...vodka give you hangovers? 'Cause I don't want a hangover. I just don't want to be sad anymore about...

[She trails off, and she remembers. Lydia turning her away, Lydia pushing her away. Because that was inevitable, wasn't it? First her best friend, then her best friend's boyfriend...then her werewolf, then Scott, then Kira and Isaac and then she'll be an omega with nowhere to go...

Setting the bottle down, Allison picked up her glass and took a long, healthy swallow...then set her glass down and made a face of pure disgust, complete with her tongue sticking out as she shuddered theatrically.]

Ilch.

Comments

[theresalwayshope]

[Allison ignores his freezer crack, eyes going wide and mouth hanging open as she leans in, fascinated.]

You got drunk? I thought you couldn't! Because of...of...y'know, the superhero stuff.

[This is not sheer drunkenness, Steve, Allison doesn't know comics.]

[punched_hitler]

[He's trying pretty hard not to laugh at that look.]

I can't get drunk now, no.

But there were a good twenty-five years during which plenty of things that come in bottles knocked me flat on my ass.

[And a couple of things with fists, too.]

[theresalwayshope]

[Allison leans in further, brow furrowed as she props her chin in her hand, attentive as a child at storytime.]

So you drank yourself drunk, too? Before you got...the powers...before you got superheroed?

[That is totally a word. That she just used.]

[punched_hitler]

Before the procedure, yeah. [Because he doesn't have powers, exactly.] There isn't much else to do, when Bucky's on the dance floor with your date.

[He doesn't really sound broken up about it. He's not.]

Not often, though. I mean, being really drunk just means you end up feeling pretty sick, and I got enough of that as it was. Besides, someone had to drag Bucky home when he'd had one too many.

[theresalwayshope]

[Allison's jaw drops open at that, her expression all righteous indignation of the inebriated variety.]

Bucky stole your date? [Her lower lip proceeds to quiver just a little.] That...is so sad...

[punched_hitler]

[Oh - whoops, that's not what he meant? Then again, humor is sometimes lost on the drunk.]

Not really. More like my dates stole Bucky? It wasn't much of a contest, between the two of us.

[It's still not, in his opinion. At least Bucky probably enjoys appreciative looks? They still make Steve feel weird.]

I just figured I'd wait for the right girl to show up. One who never minded looking down.

[theresalwayshope]

[The humor is absolutely lost, Steve. It is Drunk Girl Storytime, and to good effect: Allison is staring into the feed at Steve, absolutely rapt, sipping her water as now a small, secret smile touches her features.]

You met her, huh? Did--did you meet that girl? Did she...show up? Huh?

[punched_hitler]

[Oh, great - you should never ask Steve for stories, they seem to always end badly.

But he can't tell you that, and he's not good at lying, so he just kind of... tries to be vague. You probably won't remember when you're sober anyway.]

I - guess maybe she did. I don't know. I never got a good chance to find out, you know? There was a war on.