'To be diagnosed with caffeine withdrawal, a patient must experience at least three of five symptoms within 24 hours of stopping or reducing caffeine intake: headache, fatigue or drowsiness, depressed mood or irritability, difficulty concentrating, and flulike symptoms such as nausea or muscle pain.'
Well fuck.
Grandma had had the wonderful idea to replace all the coffee with decaf.
Hence why Scott and the rest of the Tracy family were sitting slumped on the couch, all sporting massive headaches. The curtains were drawn, casting the room in darkness. The door creaked open, sounding like thunder in the deathly silence. A lamp flicked on, the switch ringing in their ears like a warning bell. The light flooded the room, instantly activating the pain receptors in their eyes, travelling through to their skulls.
Next to him, Virgil groaned from where his head was buried in a pillow, which was blocking the view of his irritating brothers whom he particularly disliked this morning. Alan whined in disgust, opening one eye in distaste whilst rubbing his churning stomach. All Gordon could manage was a sleepy grumble from where he was passed out, head on Scott's lap. Scott himself managed to muster up a glare at the one who had doomed them all to this mess. It wasn't a very intimidating glare, but it would have to do.
God, they were pathetic.
Scott quickly turned the glare onto John, who was laughing at them from Thunderbird Five. It was all good for him, he had caffeine.
Caffeine. The Tracy family lived for the stuff. It was their lifeline. A godsend that had got them through some tough times. Liquid gold. So bitter, yet so sweet. You could have at any time. Morning, noon, night. Who didn't love coffee? And now it had been taken away!
Gotta stop thinking about coffee, it was making that achy flu feeling so much worse.
They were a mess. It was almost sad how reliant they were on caffeine. Worrying how even Alan, all of 16 years old, needed a Red Bull to get going. Gordon, with his excessively sweet and complicatedly flavoured coffees. Virgil, who put stupid amounts of milk in his coffee. John, who put even stupider amounts of sugar in his. Scott preferred his coffee black.
But it was how they got by. Sleepless nights; days overflowing with rescues. Saving people who desperately needed their help.
And while Scott never regretted rescuing those people, he certainly regretted letting Grandma buy the coffee.