Being hungover is not a novel experience for Trinity. She’s a big girl and knows how to handle herself even when she doesn’t handle her liquor.
Being gently taken care of by her two girlfriends while she has a hangover though? That’s something she doesn’t know how to process, something she struggles letting herself even think she deserves.
Getting home late from a night out with the pittlings, Trinity threw up in the bushes outside the house so she didn’t bother her girls, then went in to collapse between them in bed.
Few hours of restless sleep later, and Trinity bolts up to the bathroom when she feels the saliva filling her mouth again. She doesn’t hear the feet padding behind her while she gags, but registers the warm hand on her back and holding her hair away. She finishes emptying her non-existent stomach contents, heaving and shaking over the toilet bowl with tears in her eyes for a few moments.
She can’t help but lean into the touch of the soft hand that comes to rest on her cheek, looking at a bleary eyed, wild bed-headed Baran. Now there are new tears in her eyes, touched by the woman’s effort to get up and comfort Trinity for something she did to herself. A thumb brushes those tears away before guiding Trinity up to brush her teeth, drink some water, and lay down again, this time with a trash can by the bed.
When she finally wakes up again with a groan, her head is threatening to split open in pain and there’s a familiar empty ache in her stomach. She feels Baran’s arm still wrapped around her and hears a very soft ‘good morning’. Cracking open her eyes, Trinity notices the blinds have been drawn shut and there’s another glass of water and some pain meds on the bedside table. Baran guides her to take the meds and finish the water, which Trinity practically guzzles down to soothe her cottonmouth, before laying back down to rest in Baran’s arms again with a sigh.
They stay like that for a while, silent aside from an occasional grunt of pain, until Yolanda enters the bedroom trailed by a delicious smell. Sitting up with Baran’s help, Trinity is presented with a plate of beautiful homemade chilaquiles, making her stomach ache further.
Baran wrinkles her nose at the plate of carbs and fat.
“That cannot actually help”
Yolanda stifles a laugh for the sake of Trinity’s ears, but her amusement is clear on her face.
“You may be a brilliant doctor, but you’ve never had a hangover. Believe me, fruit and granola isn’t gunna cut it.” She replies with a smirk.
Baran remains skeptical but stays silent as Trinity shovels the food in her mouth with a groan of delight, glad to see her girl have some relief.
Once she finishes eating, they get her in the shower, wash her hair and body, letting the warm water beat down with its wonderful pressure, easing away the tension in Trinity’s head and muscles.
Suddenly, she’s being encompassed by both women in a tight hug and realizes she had started crying again, devolving into shaking sobs.
She babbles ‘thank you, thank you, thank you’ over and over into their shoulders, being gently petted and shushed until she tires herself out.
Getting her out of the shower, they wrap her in a fluffy towel and grab a pair of Yolanda’s shorts and Baran’s sweatshirt to help her get dressed in. And they spend the rest of the day lazing about together, tangled up and cozy.
Trinity truly doesn’t believe she deserves any of this, not sure she ever will, but they will keep reminding her that she has it, has them, until it sinks in someday.
