A/N: This originates from an anon Tumblr prompt that cassandramccord turned down. I thought I might take a stab at it. This totally took on a life of its own and I didn't mean for it to be angsty at all. It just worked out that way.
Elizabeth smacked Henry on the chest saying, Ya know what? You're drunk."
"And you're not?" he countered.
"We aren't talking about me. We're talkin' bout youuuu," she slurred. With that, Elizabeth passed out against his chest, her cheekbone smashing into her wedding ring. In his own inebriated state, Henry moved her hand away and examined the damage. He hoped it wouldn't leave a bruise.
Four hours earlier*
Henry walked in the door, thankful that it was Friday. Setting his briefcase down on his desk, he tossed his coat at the coat tree in the corner, pleased with himself when it caught a hook and stayed.
The crash in the kitchen turned his attention and he went to see what was going on. Stepping into the room, he chuckled. Elizabeth was standing over the blender with three, no four, liquor bottles littering the counter.
"Hey babe. This looks-well, this looks scary."
"Hey there! It will be fine. I'm not cooking. I'm bartending. It's completely different."
"Does this come with a recipe?" Henry asked, leaning over the blender.
"Absolutely. See look," she said, handing him her phone. "It's one of those Facebook recipe video thingies."
"Did you bother to click the link that actually tells you the amounts to use?" He eyed her. "How much have you already had to drink?"
"I watched the video. It's the same thing. My staff and I had a tumbler of scotch before I left today. You know, to commemorate a craptasric week. Then I had a shot here." She abruptly stopped and studied the shot glass on the counter in front of her. "Or maybe two."
"This isn't going to end well, Elizabeth."
"Are you trying to parent me? I'm not 18."
"No, but your body could probably metabolize alcohol better at 18 than it can now."
"Don't be all medical-l-ly with me Dr. McCord." Elizabeth poked his chest. "If you're going to drink with me, you've got some catching up to do." Reaching out, she grabbed his tie and pulled him to her. She kissed him hard. Her tongue demanding entrance to his mouth.
Pulling back, he grinned, "This will not end well," he repeated.
"But think of the fun we can have in the meantime." Elizabeth smirked.
Elizabeth capped the blender and turned it on. The noise it made pulverizing the ice was intensely loud. Finally, when she thought the ice had thoroughly been slushified, she turned the blender off. Taking the lid off, she stuck her finger in and licked it off. "Mmm, that is tasty."
She stuck her finger back in and then stuck it in Henry's mouth. "Not bad, but it's strong. You should cut it with some OJ."
"Don't be a wuss," she said. Suddenly diverted from the conversation, she looked down at her feet. "Why in the hell am I still wearing my heels?" Precariously balanced on one foot, she pulled one off, then switching, the other came off. She tossed them in the direction of the dining room.
"Are the kids home?" Henry asked her.
"Nope and they aren't coming home tonight either."
He nodded. "I'm going to change. You should change too. You'll be mad if you get stains on your work clothes.
"How would I do that?" she asked, pouring them both a drink from the blender, splashing some on the counter. Sheepishly she looked up.
"We'll call it precautionary. Come on." Henry took her by the hand and led her upstairs.
Ten minutes later they were on the couch cuddled up together in t-shirts and sweats, drinks in hand. "Tell me about your craptastic week."
"Oh, pretty much same shit, different day. No one wants to put the needs of the greater good above their own desires."
Henry kissed her cheek. "I'm sorry, babe. I wish I could change it."
"I know you would. Usually I don't let it get me down, but when kids are involved, I-I just" Elizabeth didn't finish the sentence. Instead she downed the drink in her hand and hopped up off the couch. "I need another drink."
Henry ran his hand through his hair. He'd seen the news. He knew about the guerrilla turf wars and the numerous Western Africa villages where everyone had been slaughtered. He should've known she would be in the thick of it, trying to stop the carnage.
He stood, swallowed the rest of the drink, and went to her, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her back to to meet his chest. She'd already downed her second glass and was pouring a third. "Pour me one too. A good husband never lets his wife drown her sorrows alone."
"I'm pretty sure that isn't a real quote."
"It's from Henry McCord. Circa 2018." He picked up the vodka bottle and poured himself a shot. Downing it, he poured a second one. Elizabeth tilted her head back and looked at him. "I have some catching up to do," he replied as he emptied the glass a second time.
Elizabeth stepped away from Henry and picked her phone up from the end of the island. She poked the screen randomly muttering to herself. Finally she dropped the phone in the dock. "There." She turned to Henry and took a step toward him. Music filled the room as the playlist poured out of the speakers. "Will you dance with me?"
Nodding, he took her hand and led her to the middle of the room between the kitchen table and the family room. Pulling her close, he wrapped her in his arms, caressing her back as they swayed to the music. He felt her tears soak through his shirt and he just held her tight.
At the end of the second song, she pulled back, her eyes watery, but her look was determined. "The mood is way too down. We need uplifting and fun." Her eyes shifted wildly around the room. "We need Scrabble!" She stumbled around the end of the couch and flopped ;down on the floor fishing under the coffee table through the stack of board games. "Here we go!" she said, pushing some magazines off on the floor, dumping the contents of the box out onto the tabletop..
Henry poured himself another drink. "If I had known there would be Scrabble involved in this evening's plans, I wouldn't have had the two shots. I might have had a chance of beating you.." She rolled her eyes at him. Sitting down next to Elizabeth, Henry helped her set up the board.
Henry turned and studied her intently, "What?" she asked.
"I'm hungry," he said.
Elizabeth just looked at him for a second, then her eyes when wide, "NO WAY! I am too! We should get Chinese."
"The greasy kind?"
"Is there any other?"
Henry called in the order and cleaned up the kitchen while Elizabeth sat on the end of the island watching him while she finished her fourth, or was it fifth, glass of the mixed drink. She poured the remaining amount from the blender into her glass and he took the pitcher and put it in the dishwasher. "I think you've had enough. You need to eat and we'll play Scrabble or something."
"Nope, Henry. I'm not done. I've barely started."
"That's not go-"
"Going to end well. Blah, blah, blah. You keep saying that and it's getting annoying."
"Babe. Continuing to drink isn't going to solve your problem."
"And what exactly is my problem?" Elizabeth asked, getting defensive.
"You feel responsible because you couldn't stop the atrocities in Western Africa."
She wanted to argue. But dammit if he wasn't right. Henry stepped between her legs and she fell on his shoulder. "I couldn't stop it. I couldn't get Congress to release the damn money." She choked out a sob. "An NGO sent us a video. It seems that this particular group of rebels in the video found it more cost-effective to use flamethrowers as weapons over guns. So I got to watch a village being burned to the ground. What the hell am I supposed to do with that Henry? Right now the best plan I've got is to drink until I can't remember it and maybe, just maybe I'll be more prepared to deal with it tomorrow."
"Oh, babe. I cannot imagine." He held her to him and traced circles on her back. A few minutes passed and the phone rang. Picking up the phone, Henry answered and responded, "Thanks Matt." He pulled away from Elizabeth. "Hey, food's here." He kissed her forehead. "Go sit on the couch. I'll fix you a plate." Helping her down, he headed to the front door to meet the delivery guy.
On the return trip to the kitchen, he stopped by the liquor cabinet and grabbed the scotch. "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em," he muttered.
Henry fixed a plate of Elizabeth's favorites and brought it to her along with a glass of water. He got his and they ate in silence. When they finished, he took their plates into the kitchen. He brought back the scotch and two tumblers and set them on the coffee table.
Elizabeth smirked at Henry. "I thought you said I'd had enough."
"Well, I don't have a better plan than yours so here we are. I really am sorry. You shouldn't have had to see that." He poured some in both glasses and handed her one.
Taking a drink, she looked at him and smiled. "Thank you," she said.
Henry looked at her. "For what?
"For always being by my side and supporting me. Even when that means getting drunk with me so I can develop awful coping mechanisms to deal with my job."
"You don't sound drunk," he stated,
"I just spent my entire dinner trying to come up with that so I didn't sound like the drunk person who thanks everyone. I always hated that person, Oh, and the crier.
Henry busted out in laughter. "I love you," They both finished their drinks. Henry leaned back against the couch, and she crawled up in his lap.
Kissing him chastely, Elizabeth smacked Henry on the chest saying, Ya know what? You're drunk."
"And you're not?" he countered.
"We aren't talking about me. We're talkin' bout youuuu," she slurred. With that, Elizabeth passed out against his chest, her cheekbone smashing into her wedding ring. In his own inebriated state, Henry moved her hand away and examined the damage. He hoped it wouldn't leave a bruise. He shifted her so that she was propped up as much as possible and pulled a blanket from the back of the couch to cover them. Only then he let his own head rest on the couch.
Tomorrow was a new day and they would tackle whatever needed tackling then. Now was time for rest.