Stress Drinking
Drinking was a great stress reliever, Yvette found, and that it was a great comfort, too.
Yvette started drinking around when she was sixteen at a friend’s party. It was just a simple beer and it tasted disgusting, that Yvette remembers. It certainly didn’t stop her from drinking it along with five more.
After that, she didn’t seek it out. The beer was disgusting, which had made an impact on her drinking ever again, but she was offered whiskey once when she was eighteen by one of her college friends and she never went back from it.
It was there after every breakup. It was there on the anniversary of her father’s death. It was there to help her escape from the world. It was there purely for the reason of being there.
What Yvette didn’t know was that when she drank whiskey she became somewhat of a mean drunk.
Now, here she was, sitting on the couch in the warehouse with Farah beside her, a beer bottle in hand, with Nat sitting in an armchair, Morgan in a dark space of the room, and Ava standing by the window.
“Ugh,” Yvette slams the bottle down on the stand beside her, wrinkling her nose and pretending to gag.
“Honestly, babe, if you don’t like it, don’t drink it,” Farah squeezed her thigh, bringing Yvette’s attention to the beautiful vampire beside her.
“I have to,” Yvette insisted, turning her head to glare at the bottle. “If I don’t drink it now, then I will never drink it. Besides, it’ll feel like I haven’t earned the right to drink the good stuff and I seriously need the good stuff.”
Yvette tightened her grip on the bottle, bringing it back to her lips and chugging it down. She slammed the now empty bottle back on the stand, shivering in disgust, and immediately headed for her bag where she pulled out a large bottle of whiskey.
“That’s quite a large bottle, Yvette,” Nat commented, looking a bit concerned. Yvette looked her straight in the eye, a serious expression on her face.
“And this still won’t be enough,” Yvette opened the bottle quickly, drinking about a third of it off the bat. “Ugh, what a day.”
“Should you be drinking?” Ava asked, turning around with her arms crossed and a frown on her face. “You still have a job, detective. You could get called in at any moment.”
“Please, don’t remind me,” Yvette groaned, taking another swig of whiskey. “I’ve had paperwork to deal with, Douglas smoldering at me any chance he got, Bobby, and a nut job that took a piss on me! I had to drive all the way home to take a shower, then back to work!”
Yvette's arms raised in the air in exasperation, the whiskey sloshing around in the bottle at the movement as Farah and Nat looked at her concerned, Ava’s brow-raising at Yvette’s outburst, and Morgan taking a long drag of her cigarette.
“How much have you had to drink?” Ava inquired. The question seemed to have flipped a switch because Yvette glared over at Ava, scoffing, and completely ignored the question. When Ava continued to stare her down was when Yvette answered.
“What’s it to ya?”
All of them were shocked at the hostile tone. They’ve seen Yvette drink before, consuming enough to the point where it was extremely concerning. Though, it was only at the bar during the Murphy case.
“Babe,” Farah said, placing a hand on Yvette’s arm. “Maybe you should stop drinking for now.”
“Oh, piss off,” Yvette jerked her arm back from Farah’s touch and stood up, whiskey bottle clenched in her hand.
Farah blinked in surprise at what transpired, hand clutching at nothing.
“Yvette, Farah’s right,” Nat stood up, hands lowered as she glanced over at Farah, concerned. Yvette scoffed, once again, at the admission.
“I’m sick of everyone trying to have a say in my life,” Yvette pointed Nat with the hand the whiskey was clutched in, glaring at her. “None of you get a say in my life! You’ve ruined it! I can’t go a day without being terrified, without being paranoid at every little thing that I see out of the corner of my eye and every noise I hear.”
Yvette took another swig from the bottle, looking at each one of them in the eye until her gaze settled to meet Farah’s.
“Sometimes, I wish I’d never met you guys at all.”
Yvette took another chug of the bottle, turning as she did it, and promptly tripped over nothing. Farah reached out to grab her, which she did before Yvette’s whole body hit the ground, but the force of the catch had her head hit the floor.
The bottle fell from Yvette’s hand, effectively staining the carpet with its contents.
“Yvette!” Farah exclaimed, turning Yvette over onto her back. Farah reached out to rub at Yvette’s forehead, not noticing Nat kneeling beside her or the hand placed on her shoulder.
“You should take Yvette to her room,” Nat suggested, squeezing Farah’s shoulder to get her attention. Farah nodded rather absentmindedly, and gathered Yvette in her arms, not noticing the tears that rolled down her cheeks. When Farah straightened up, Nat stood up, reaching out and wiping away the tears on Farah’s cheeks. “Yvette will be all right, Farah.”
“I know,” Farah said, tightening her grip on Yvette. “I just wish I was there for her as she is for me.”
“You are, Farah, more than you know,” Nat smiled gently at her, reaching out and squeezing her shoulder.
“With the amount of rambling I hear from Yvette about you, there’s no denying it,” Morgan piped in, jamming her cigarette into an ashtray. “Honestly, there’s no stopping her once she’s started.”
Farah smiled a little at the information.
“Now, go and make her comfortable for when she wakes up,” Nat said, reaching down and grabbing the bottle of whiskey on the floor. When she straightened up, Farah was gone.
“She had been drinking before she entered here,” Ava said, turning back to the window. “We should have stopped her.”
“Yes, but Yvette knows her limits,” Nat responded, looking down at the mess on the carpet. “She’s responsible enough to know when to stop. Though, from what she said, her day was stressful for her.”
“I suppose.”
~~~
When Yvette woke up, it was to a blinding headache. She groaned in pain and attempted to roll over but there was a weight around her waist. Looking down revealed an arm and when she followed the length of it, she meets the eyes of Farah.
Yvette sighed, relaxing into the bed and putting her hand on the arm around her.
“I’m guessing that I’d passed out,” Yvette croaked out, trailing fingers over Farah’s arm. Farah didn’t say anything, which was unusual, and only scooted closer to Yvette, clinging to her. Yvette chuckled nervously. “Darling, you’re worrying me.”
“Do you wish you’d never met us? Met me?” Farah blurted, tightening her grip on Yvette. Yvette hummed.
“I said something, didn’t I?”
“More than something.”
Yvette turned as much as she could to tilt Farah’s head up so she was looking at her. Yvette traced Farah’s face with her fingers until they settled against her cheek, noticing the worried and frightened look as Farah gazed up at Yvette.
“I believe that there is some semblance of the truth of a drunk’s rambles,” Yvette began, “but that’s all it is. A semblance. Whatever I said, I believed it or I felt it at one point, but know that this is the happiest I’ve been in a long time.”
Yvette leaned down, kissing Farah’s forehead softly. When she pulled back she smiled at Farah who only kissed her in reply.
“That can’t be good for your senses!” Yvette laughed as they pulled back, wincing at the pain it brought to her head. “Ah, I should forego drinking whiskey, then!”
“Probably,” Farah replied, grinning a little.
They laid there together, wrapped in each other’s arms as they took in the situation. Yvette looked down at the vampire in her arms, realizing that, without a doubt, that she would do anything for her.
What was a bottle of whiskey compared to the utter delight Yvette felt when she was with Farah.
“You know I’m here for you, Yvette,” Farah spoke, a seriousness to her voice. Yvette kissed the top of her head, tightening her arms around Farah.
“I know, darling, I know.”