?

Log in

No account? Create an account
Original Fic - alley_skywalker [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
alley_skywalker

[ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ]
[ archive | journal archive ]

Original Fic [Jun. 12th, 2011|01:58 pm]
alley_skywalker
[Tags|, , ]

What's this? Original Fic? Wo-ow. Lol. I guess I'm getting an early start on that hurt/comfort bingo :)

Title: Just the Usual
Author: alley_skywalker
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: swearing, implied alcohol abuse...or at least excessive consumption thereof
Word Count: 1,009
Summary: This is what they do together - drink and bitch excessively.
Notes: Lose interpretation of the prompt "family." More like "family issues" but I suppose it works. I don't have this prompt for the hc_bingo, so this is the Wild Card..


“Anna, where do you think you’re going?” Her father is still on a roll. She was doubly guilty now. First, she refused to drool all over her Jake’s “amazing” game and now she was walking away from his attempts to chide and bully her into doing just that.

 

“To Anatole’s.” Now she would be triply guilty, because for all her parents cared her best friend was a waste of space.

 

“It’s late. Who said you could go?”

 

“I’m 21, dad. I can fucking go to a friend’s house if I want.” She’s out the door before he can answer, slamming it hard enough to bang but certainly not hard enough to be cathartic.

 

When she gets there, Anatole’s house is ablaze. Some party apparently, she isn’t sure why she wasn’t here in the first place. Oh yes, because if she didn’t go to Jake’s game there would be some sort of world catastrophe with hundreds of deaths and thousands more wounded. How could she forget.

 

Anatole is in the kitchen when Anna comes in. Music is thumping in the living room, empty alcohol containers of all sorts are strewn everywhere. He looks up and gives her an enthusiastic wave. “Come looking for drinks?”

 

She leans against the counter and gives him a pleading, tired smile. “I just wanna get trashed right now, is that ok?”

 

Anatole shrugs, sweeping empty bottles and cans into a large trash bag. “Sure. It’s only what everyone else is doing. What do you want?

 

“Vodka. Champaign. Make it a double, would you?”

 

Anatole’s eyes widen slightly. “Hell. Some shit’s really going down, isn’t it?”

 

“Just the usual.” It’s Anna’s turn to shrug noncommittally.

 

Anatole makes a face, wincing sympathetically. “Tell you what,” he says after a pause, picking up a Vodka bottle and measuring out a shot. “You can have a single.”

 

At this point she doesn’t have much of a choice but to surrender. “Fine. Thanks.” She’s too tired to argue anyways.

 

“Come on girl, cheer up. What’s the use of you getting shit faced if you can’t have fun doing it.” Anatole’s smile is goofy and lopsided. He’s charming in his own childish way. Immature, her parents would say. Well, screw them. She takes her dtink and throws it back, letting it spread through her body. Anna can feel the room rotate beyond her closed eyelids. When she looks back at Anatole, he’s smiling.

 

“Better?”

 

“You fucking bet.”

 

*

 

It’s four in the morning and they’re sitting on the floor, getting trashed. Anatole had kicked everyone out an hour ago and now it’s just then. “You know what my dad said when I told him what I got on my LSATs?”

 

“Hmm?” Anatole pours out another shot for both of them. His shirt is hanging out, hair plastered to his forehead but at least he’s wide awake and listening.

 

“He said ‘oh, good job, dea,’ and went back to showing my brother more of whatever football thing they were practicing. You know, if I could go back in time, I would tell the five year old me to get seriously interested in some sport so the parents could invests tons of money in the private coaches I would need to get me really good. Because then it would pay off when I was some stupid jock on some amateur high school team. Sure would mean more. Oh, and also to pretend that I’m not really as smart as I am, because maybe then when I brought home an A I could have a fucking party too—Thanks.” She takes the shot Anatole offers her and throws it back. This has to be her seventh shot in the past four hours. At this rate, she’s liable to give herself alcohol poisoning, but she doesn’t care.

 

“Well, my parents like my sister better.” Anatole throws back his own shot and reaches for a chaser.

 

“You don’t seem to care.”

 

“That’s because I’d rather be drunk and happy than perfect and unhappy.”

 

Anna laughs. It’s funny, almost hysterically funny. This is what she and Anatole do together – they drink and bitch excessively and it’s the most glorious thing in the world. “Do you mind if I sleep here?”

 

“Nope. Will you be ok on the couch?”

 

“Yea.” He gets her a blanket and a pillow. The room is spinning slowly before her eyes as she crashes onto the couch and Anatole throws the blanket over her. She can hear a ringing in her ears and doesn’t realize it’s the phone until Anatole goes to the kitchen and picks up. She knows there will be hell to pay in the morning for her oblivion but she doesn’t care at the moment. It’s never completely worth it or completely not worth it. It’s just fact.

 

Anatole’s voice carries to her from the kitchen. “No, she sleeping here… Well, she’s sort of asleep, would you have me wake her?” Bitchy and drunk is an amusing combination on Anatole. On anyone else it would be scary, but on Anatole it’s amusing. “Ok, I’ll tell her. Yea, bye.” The boy re-emerges from the kitchen and regards her carefully in the gloom of the room, his head cocked to the side. “So, I just told your parents to piss off.”

 

“Good. They deserve it. At least my dad sure fucking does.”

 

Anatole smirks. “They also said that your brother has some sort of team event tomorrow and unless you have the spare key you need to come home before 11 or after 5.”

 

Anna makes something of a shrugging gesture. “You don’t mind if I stay here, right?”

 

When Anatole answers, his voice is unusually soft. “You know I don’t. Will you be ok there?”

 

“Yea.” Well, as ok as she’d be anyways. She’ll probably be throwing up in a few hours but that’s ok too. Anatole owes her one as it is. “Thanks, An, you’re the best.”

 

“You better believe it.” When he speaks next she can tell without looking that he’s half way up the stairs. “Goodnight, Annie.”

 

“Goodnight.”

LinkReply

Comments:
From: reg_flint
2011-06-12 11:24 pm (UTC)
Alcohol is so befuddling, you brought that across really well. I'd like to see some more description so I have an image in my mind of what they look like beyond facial expressions. That would liven it up. Mind, your writing is awesome, that's why all you hear is that one suggestion. If I thought you were insecure I would praise you more, but you know you're a real writer.
(Reply) (Thread)
[User Picture]From: alley_skywalker
2011-06-12 11:52 pm (UTC)
Haha, thanks, Kat. I know this has like...zero descriptions. It's not how I usually write, but I seriously wrote this at like 3am last night. IDEK. It's more of a cathartic peace than anything.
(Reply) (Parent) (Thread)