#*WHISKEY SOAKED AND RECKLESS [WYNONNA] | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

iamthegaysmurf · 5 years

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SMURF!!! Hi :) Prompt: “I’m seriously not that drunk.”

Both of these prompts were pretty similar, so I worked them into the same story together.

So, uh… This one sort of got away from me. It’s… a lot longer than these little prompt fills are supposed to be. >.>

Also, I know this probably isn’t what @haught0pocket and anon might have originally had in mind when they gave me these prompts, but I hope it’s still okay… : /

And, uh… there might accidentally be some Feelings™ involved. #whoops

((Set roughly a month after the events of 3x03, but before the beginning of 3x04.))

———-

Dolls has been gone for almost a month. Alice has been gone for nearly six. They haven’t seen hide nor hair of Bulshar since that day up on the cliff. Everyone is on edge, and they’re all dealing with it in their own ways.

Some of them more predictably than others.

“Can you get that for me, Nic?” Waverly mumbles when her phone rings, not even looking up from the dusty tome she’s been squinting at for the past three hours.

“Sure, baby.” Nicole rubs at the back of her neck as she pushes away from the table where she’s finishing up the day’s reports, rolling it until it cracks. “Waverly’s phone,” she answers, unable to keep the weariness out of her voice.

“…Officer Haught?” Doc sounds confused on the other end of the line. “I was not expecting to speak with you this evening.”

“I’m here with Waverly, Doc,” Nicole says, slightly amused at how the new technology still trips him up sometimes. “Is everything okay?” she asks, concern slipping back into her voice.

“Ahhh… Well… I believe that might depend on your definition of ‘okay’.”

“What did she do now?” Nicole groans and pinches the bridge of her nose, trying to fight off the migraine that’s been building all day.

“I am afraid to say that it might be time for Miss Waverly to come and collect her sister.”

Nicole glances over at Waverly, who’s still hunched over the grimoire, scribbling furiously in her notebook every few seconds. Looks like she just drew the short straw for the babysitting tonight.

“Gimme ten minutes, Doc.”

“Officer Haught?” Doc pauses, and Nicole can hear shouting in the background. “I think it would be best if you made that five.”

Nicole ends the call and slumps back against the table. It’s been a long fucking day and this is definitely not what she had in mind for tonight, but after watching Waverly for another minute, it’s pretty clear they won’t be heading home any time soon anyway, so she guesses a rowdy Wynonna it is.

“Hey, baby,” she says quietly, not wanting to startle Waverly. She leans forward and presses a kiss to her temple, waiting for any indication that Waverly has heard her. After rubbing a few soothing circles along her back, Waverly finally turns, fully focusing on Nicole for the first time in over an hour.

“Hey,” she says, almost like she forgot Nicole was even there. Her eyes crinkle up around the edges as she smiles and leans into another kiss. “What did I miss?” she asks, rubbing at her tired eyes.

“That was Doc on the phone,” Nicole says, rolling her eyes. “Looks like I’ve gotta go and pour your sister into my backseat before she ends up in my holding cell again.”

“Oh…” She glances back at the book and her notes, chewing on the end of her pencil for a moment. “I guess I can work on this again later…”

“No, baby. Don’t worry about it,” Nicole says, rubbing her back again. “You keep doing… whatever it is you’re doing. I’ve got this.”

“Are you sure?” Waverly asks, plainly feeling guilty that Nicole is shouldering the burden of Wynonna for her.

“Of course,” Nicole answers simply. “We all have our parts to play in this thing together, and this is something I can do.” She leans forward and kisses Waverly’s forehead. “Maybe I can stop by Mama Lou’s on my way back and pick us up something for Dark Lunch. How does that sound?”

Waverly giggles at their nickname for middle-of-the-night meals when they can’t afford to sleep, but her eyes go wide when her stomach growls loudly enough to echo in the empty office.

“Uhh… yeah. I guess that sounds pretty good,” she admits sheepishly.

“Done.” Nicole grins and steals a proper kiss this time, then gathers up her jacket and gloves and secures the door behind her, locking Waverly safely in and the rest of the world out.

There’s no snow at the moment, but a thick layer of frost covers the ground, normally undisturbed at an hour like this, and it crunches loudly under Nicole’s boots as she makes her way across to her cruiser. She knows that this is hitting Wynonna the hardest out of any of them, but watching her sink back into the whiskey-soaked recklessness from before, after having been sober for so long, makes the piece of her heart that’s now permanently reserved for her reluctant new sister ache like someone’s squeezing it just a little too tightly.

She wishes there was something more she could do. But if routinely picking her up from the various local bars and making sure she gets home safe is what she needs right now, then that’s what Nicole will do. Anything to prove that she’s here for her, and that she’s not going anywhere.

The commotion is already spilling out into the parking lot when Nicole pulls up outside Shorty’s. Luckily, the regulars don’t seem to be in the mood for much trouble tonight, and the majority of them scatter as soon as she steps out of the cruiser and they catch sight of her uniform. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes as she heads for the door. In a small town like this, some things will never change.

“Ossifer Haughtie!” Wynonna slurs from atop one of the tables in the corner the second Nicole sets foot inside the saloon. “Getchyer Haughtpants up here an’ help me show ‘em how it’s done!”

Oh, boy. So it’s gonna be like that tonight.

Nicole glances over at Doc, who raises an eyebrow and shrugs a shoulder and tips his hat like she’s your problem now. Nicole massages her temples against the inbound migraine, but nods at him and starts shuffling toward Wynonna’s makeshift stage.

“Time to go, Wynonna,” she says calmly, holding out a hand to help Wynonna down off the table. Wynonna bats it away and continues to dance with her whiskey bottle in hand. She keeps going until she stumbles, nearly toppling off the table altogether if Nicole hadn’t been there to catch her.

“I might be slightly drunk…” she admits with a snort as Nicole takes the whiskey bottle from her hand and throws Wynonna’s arm around her own shoulders so she can hold Wynonna up. Her other arm goes around Wynonna’s waist, trying to keep her on her feet.

“Understatement of the year,” Nicole mumbles as she begins half-dragging Wynonna toward the door.

“It’s gettin’ Haught in herre… so take off all your clothes!” Wynonna starts singing at the top of her lungs, drawing forth a round of cheers from the patrons still remaining in the bar.

Nicole looks back over her shoulder and nods at Doc as she pulls Wynonna out into the street. The rabble from earlier has completely cleared out, and they have the entire sidewalk to themselves now.

“I am gettin’ so Haught,” Wynonna continues singing, her voice ringing out through the empty streets. “I wanna take my clothes off!” She starts trying to shed her leather jacket.

“If you do that,” Nicole interrupts, grabbing the jacket and sliding it back up over Wynonna’s shoulders, “you’re just going to give yourself pneumonia.”

“So what?” Wynonna mutters darkly, pulling free from Nicole’s grasp. “It already hurts to breathe.”

That hits Nicole like a knife to the ribs, and Wynonna stomps away a few paces into the alley next to Shorty’s, suddenly much more steady on her feet. She takes out her frustration on the nearby dumpster and then leans back against the cold bricks that line the side of the building.

“Come on, Wynonna,” Nicole says, her brow furrowed as she follows after her. “You’re drunk. Let’s get you out of here.”

“I’m not drunk!” Wynonna bites back, punching the dumpster again, and Nicole is surprised to see a slight dent left behind in the metal from the impact.

“Wynonna…” Nicole admonishes. “You smell like a distillery.”

“I’m not saying I didn’t have a few drinks, Officer Fun Police.” She lays the sarcasm on thicker than usual, but Nicole notes that the slur is completely gone from her speech. “But most of that,” she gestures at herself, “is from Cecil Wright spilling a bottle of Varmint all over me when I was trying to get to the jukebox.”

Nicole folds her arms, raising a skeptical eyebrow. To her credit, Wynonna doesn’t flinch under the inspection.

“I’m seriously not that drunk, Nicole,” she says, her tone serious as she straightens up.

The use of her first name rather than another Haught pun drops some of the tension out of Nicole’s stance. She thinks Wynonna might be telling the truth. Which makes this whole thing even more confusing.

“Then… then why?” she asks, waving her hand and gesturing from Wynonna to the bar and back. “Why the big show?”

Wynonna’s shoulders drop and she slumps back against the bricks. She’s silent for a moment, but then she looks back up at Nicole, and Nicole can see the cracks spreading across Wynonna’s carefully constructed façade.

“Sometimes it’s just easier that way,” Wynonna shrugs. “If people think I’m shitfaced, then they don’t try to talk to me about… about…”

She can visibly see the lump forming in Wynonna’s throat. Wynonna wipes hastily at her eyes and turns away, picking at the cut on the back of her knuckles from when she punched the dumpster a minute ago.

Nicole reaches out and takes Wynonna’s hand in her own. Wynonna starts to jerk away, but Nicole doesn’t let her. She turns her hand over and examines the cut and the bruise that’s quickly forming around it. Reaching into one of the cargo pockets of her uniform pants, Nicole pulls out an antiseptic wipe and some gauze and begins cleaning up the laceration.

Wynonna hisses at the sting, but she doesn’t pull away, and together they stand there in silence, alone in the alley while Nicole shows off her first-aid skills. It’s the way their friendship has always been. A little unorthodox, but it works for them, and Nicole would never give up this strange bond they share.

“I’m still giving you a ride home,” Nicole finally says when she finishes, tossing the used gauze in the dumpster. “I believe you,” she adds quickly, before Wynonna can argue again. “But you still don’t need to be driving tonight. Especially on your bike.”

“I don’t want to go home,” Wynonna protests.

“Wynonna…” Nicole sighs. “You can’t go back in there.”

“I didn’t say that,” Wynonna snaps. It comes out a bit sharper than perhaps shemeant for it to. “I just…” She kicks an empty beer bottle and they both watch as it skitters down the alleyway before shattering against the far wall. “I just don’t want to go home.”

“Did something happen, Wynonna?” Nicole frowns, wondering if she needs to gather up the crew for some demon ass-kicking.

“No…” Wynonna mutters, looking anywhere but at Nicole.

“Hey.” She reaches out and places a hand on Wynonna’s shoulder. “Talk to me, Earp,” she adds softly, with a gentle squeeze.

“The ghosts,” is all Wynonna says.

It’s non-sequitur, to say the least, but it’s the thread that Wynonna has chosen to pick up, and Nicole is patient enough to wait and see where it will lead them.

“Sometimes they’re louder than the voices in my own head.” She looks down at her boots awkwardly. “Sometimes even the whiskey can’t drown them out. Daddy and Willa. Curtis and Shorty. Fish. …Dolls.” She nearly chokes on a sob, and Nicole feels the pieces of her heart shattering, the shards slicing into her lungs and stealing her breath. “Alice.”

“Oh, Wynonna…” Nicole can’t help but pull Wynonna into a hug, and to her surprise, Wynonna doesn’t fight it. Instead she collapses into her arms, here in this dirty alley with no one else around to see her. “Alice isn’t… She’s safe, Wynonna.”

“She isn’t dead, Nicole. But she’s gone. And it’s all my fault. Just like the rest of them.”

Nicole doesn’t know what to say, so she just stands there, holding Wynonna in her moment of vulnerability, until the sobs die out into sniffles and she suddenly pulls away like she’s just been burnt.

“Haught, I swear to god if you—”

“I know nothing,” Nicole cuts her off, holding up her hands in mock surrender. Wynonna narrows her eyes, but Nicole doesn’t shrink away from the scrutiny. “You can trust me,” she says, pouring every ounce of earnesty she has into the simple statement. She’s surprised when Wynonna nods once in her direction.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” That was not the response she was expecting.

“Okay.”

“So, uh…” Nicole clears her throat as they both start pretending like none of that ever happened. “Why don’t you stay with us at my place tonight? The guest bedroom is already made up. You’re welcome to it.”

She’s half expecting an argument, but Wynonna seems to mull it over for a few seconds and then shrugs.

“Probably wouldn’t hurt to have someone keep an eye on you two.” She pats Peacemaker where it’s nestled against her hip and dares Nicole to tease her about any of this.

Nicole snorts, but slings an arm around Wynonna’s shoulder anyway.

“Sure, Earp. Whatever you say.”

They head back to the cruiser, the banter flowing freely between them now, and Nicole is rather relieved that she can open the front passenger-side door for Wynonna rather than having to wrestle her into the back seat.

“Oh. I, uh… I promised Waverly some Dark Lunch from Mama Lou’s before I left to come and get you,” she says as she climbs into the driver’s seat. “That alright with you?”

“Shit, Haughtshot. I could murder a stack of pancakes right now.”

#prompt fill #ficlet #wayhaught #wynaught brotp #my fiction #wynonna earp #writer asks #pocket #anon #ask and answer #writing #mine

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