Just Because of You: Abby Anderson x Drunk!Reader One Shot
You get a little too drunk at a WLF gathering and accidentally confess something to her.
⟢warnings/contains: starts off reader!POV, then Abby!POV, drinking (obv), slight angst, friends-to-lovers if you squint (cliffhanger), avoidant pining Abby, very brief mentions of blood, death, and vomiting
⟢A/N: Some more Abby content cuz I've been on a AKOTSK kick but that's my wife. Don't get it twisted. #nohetero. Enjoy, beautiful gay people in my phone!
Sometimes, patrols were unlucky. Well, actually, most of the time they were. And that's setting aside the risk of imminent death from infected or Scars. When the duffel bags came-up empty, your fellow soldiers emptier and worn-down, it was hard not to feel discouraged.
But yesterday? Manny's patrol found a ton of liquor in the basement of some old laundromat. Like, a shelf's worth of the stuff. Whiskey, vodka, gin, bourbon-- you name it, it was all there. Of course, they could only bring back about a small bag's worth of bottles for the road back, but that was definitely cause for celebration.
And celebration there was.
Tonight, you brought a few of these bottles to Manny's dorm for a little get-together, which, for Abby to attend, took more bargaining than you would have liked (dishes for a week, her laundry for another. Worth it). But after the rough few weeks you'd all had, you wanted to have a moment. A good moment. Wins like these deserved to be relished! You told Abby, who was, in truth, the real reason you were throwing this party. She'd been tenser than usual after one of her patrols saw a lot of casualties, and it killed you to see someone ordinarily so confident look so... defeated. She needed the pick-me-up more than anyone, even if you'd never say it to her face.
So, by the time the sun set below the walls of the stadium, the barracks were filled with people. Some familiar faces-- Nora, Mel, Jordan, Leah, to name a few-- but others you didn't recognize as well. An old corny '80s movie was playing on a beaten-up projector, and the Xbox was lit-up with some Mortal Kombat. It was gonna be a good night, and you'd give an arm and a leg to keep it that way.
And then? Oh, hello, tequila.
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Abby was, to put it mildly, not enthused about throwing this party.
For the past few days, every time she closed her eyes at night, she saw the bodies of her soldiers she failed two weeks ago. A bottle-necking situation in the sewers with some stalkers, and half the crew was wiped-out in minutes. Of course, she had done her best with what she had, and managed to save far more people than others might have been able to, but it didn't do much to soothe the yawning pit of guilt in her stomach. She was planning on re-reading Heart of Darkness in her bunk (maybe with a bit of that looted Mezcal on the side), until your pouty face and wicked bribery got in the way. Damnit, it was hard to say no to you sometimes.
Which is how she ended up chaperoning for a bunch of drunken idiots. Ordinarily, she'd be fucking wasted right next to you, but it was harder than usual to let loose tonight. A few hours in, she found herself playing a less-than-riveting game of Go Fish with Danny (against her will) while you took shots on the other side of the room with some new recruits. She wasn't an idiot. She knew you had begged to throw this party in some lame attempt to cheer her up, and yeah, it was sweet. Even if she couldn't stomach the drinking or dancing or laughing it up with everyone else. And for that reason, it was hard not to keep a special eye on you. Some part of her felt responsible for your well-being, just like everyone else.
Maybe not like everyone else. You were different, in ways she couldn't really dwell on for too long before getting nauseous. Sometimes she caught herself getting a little too excited when you entered the room, or laughing too hard at your dumb ass jokes. It was stupid. Stupidly great, having you as a roommate on the base. It had been a long time since she had felt so safe with someone. She'd never admit it to you, but you definitely saved her in more ways than one.
And evidently, her savior was... very drunk right now. You were slumped at a forty-five degree angle over the back of the couch, watching Manny and Jordan play some dumb drinking game with a glazed-over look in your eyes. Every so often, you'd break out of the trance to laugh boisterously at something someone said, or maybe dance along to the stereo, practically breaking your foot in the process. Unconsciously, Abby couldn't help but smile at the sight. If she wasn't having a great time, at least you were.
Most people had left except for the core members of your friend group, the night winding down, but you were still up. Still drunk off your ass, and still somehow having a good time. And then you broke one of the bottles while trying to clean-up a bit, some of the glass catching your palm. At the sight of the blood, Abby was on her feet faster than anyone else. She was by your side in seconds, prying the broken glass away from your grasp.
"Woah, alright, party's over for you." She teases gently, putting pressure on the small cut with her thumb. It wasn't anything serious, but her jaw still clenched a bit with worry at the sight. "You ok?" She adds in a lower voice, bending down closer to your ear as to not embarrass you.
Being you, you just nod with a goofy grin, stumbling a bit as you attempt to break away. "Relax, doc, I'm fine. 'S just a bit of glass." You hiccup, but try to cover it with a giggle. "I'm peachy-- oop--" Your foot catches on the carpet, and Abby's arm shoots out to catch your sweaty hands. Shit, you were drunker than she thought.
"Watch it." She chuckles, a hand on your back as you straighten. Even as you look up at her with those flushed cheeks and that stupid smile again, she manages to escort you out into the hallway without tripping herself. It was lucky she'd spent all that time weight lifting, or else holding up practically all of your body weight against her side would have been a difficult mission as the two of you stumble along the linoleum. Even if it were difficult, she would have done it ten times over anyway.
"Where are you taking me?" You mumble from beside her, squinting against the fluorescent lights with a frown, and she has to stifle yet another laugh. Even drunkenly miffed, you looked cute.
"Back to our barracks. You're shit-faced, in case you hadn't noticed."
"Whaat?" You reply quizzically, tugging on her arm in an attempt to get her to stop walking. "No, no, Abs, I'm fine. I'm fine. Let's go back."
It's actually laughable how little you're able to physically hold her back, and she just has to adjust her grip to get your feet moving again. "Not happening." She replies simply.
"But..." You start, a whining sound preceding the next words. "The party. Your party!"
It was a laughable claim, even for someone as drunk as you were. "My party?" She echoes, rolling her eyes as you both round a corner. "You're the one who insisted on doing this whole thing. I didn't even want to go. Trust me, I'll be okay."
"Abby." You say a lot quieter; a lot more hesitantly, as if you were about to cry. "Seriously?"
She stops just outside your barracks, hearing the wavering of your voice, and turns half-towards you with a pitying frown. She wants to curse herself for not putting that a little more kindly, because the look on your face right now is like a kicked puppy: eyes wet with the beginnings of tears, bottom lip trembling, and shoulders slumped shamefully.
"You really hated it?" You ask faintly, mouth quirking to the side in drunken embarrassment. "I know it was a lot, but I just thought... I wanted to cheer you up, you know?"
"I didn't hate it. Sorry. I'm just...tired." She sighs, tone softer around the edges this time. Her hand remains on your lower back as she opens the door and gently ushers you through. "Come on, go lie down."
"Well, good, 'cuz I only threw this party because I like you."
You make a sound halfway between a snort and a sigh as you flop down onto your back, and she immediately rushes forward to turn you onto your side. Her knees crack as she kneels next to the bed, now eye-level with you. "I know. I like you too, idiot. Now get some sleep." She lingers for a moment, scooting a small trash can closer to your bed. Better. And then she turns around to leave. "And try not to choke on your own vomit, okay? That would really suck. For you."
She turns back around, thick arms crossing over her chest. "You mean what?" She asks, and her mouth tilts into a puzzled smile. You look oddly serene right now, despite your belligerent state, your eyes struggling to stay open as you respond.
"I mean..." You yawn, adjusting the pillow beneath your messy hair. "I like you. Like like you. A lot."
She wants to laugh, but for some reason can't summon the cruelty. Like like? What are you, twelve?
"...Okay." She replies lowly, telling herself that it's just the liquor talking. But that still doesn't explain the sudden pain in her chest at your words; the warm and sincere expression on your startlingly-beautiful face. Even now-- even in the dimness of your barracks, where the two of you spend more time together than most as dear friends and nothing more. She nods, palming the back of her neck awkwardly. "I'll... Be over at Manny's helping clean up if you need anything."
You're already passed out by the time she responds, soft breaths heavier than before and lips parted slightly. Right, Abby thinks to herself, muscles taut as she slips out of the room.
You're drunk, that's all. The lights in the hallway seem to flicker brighter as she walks, the air thicker. You didn't mean it. Her throat feels drier than before, and her heartbeat is like a rabbit's in her chest. It doesn't have to dawn on her, which is the worst part. It's a simple fact that's been eating away at her for ages, and tonight, it reared its head in a particularly unavoidable way.
Fuck. She like likes you, too.
