Disclaimer: The only characters that belong to me are Yasmin, Sara and Blair.
A/N: Pre-Necromancer so AU-ish. I just couldn't fight of the plot bunny that insisted that I write chocolate wasted Abbie. Enjoy!
If there's one thing Abbie has always sucked at it is having a normal life. From her early days in a single parent household to the thoroughly emotionally scarring incident in middle school with Moloch and her subsequent bad girl teenage years, to being the youngest Lieutenant in the history of the Sleepy Hollow PD, Abbie has truthfully never had much use for the simple life. She has never felt she belonged among normal society and when Ichabod Crane comes crashing into her life she is terrified, but equally relived because finally her… apartness from everyone else finally makes sense.
But as displaced as Abbie has always felt, she truthfully has never really struggled to make friends because most people just naturally like her. She is pretty, clever and though a little closed off, warm hearted and kind. In high school she becomes best friends with a bright, funny girl named Yasmin Perkins who in many ways is the antithesis to Abbie. And, long after Abbie becomes a trouble maker and eventually reforms, and Yasmin goes away to college and begins her life Upstate, they keep in touch through emails and the occasional phone call. She is the sister Abbie- secretly- wishes Jenny and she had.
So in early February, when her friend calls her to gush over her engagement and begs her to be a bridesmaid, Abbie finds herself acquiescing despite the fact that she literally has been battling hell and all its demons. But that all slips to the back burner as Moloch's efforts dial up week by week, climaxing in a spectacular battle on the night of the Spring Equinox.
The town literally goes to hell, suspended in a parallel universe between earth and the afterlife. Abbie, Ichabod, Jenny, Irving and even Andy, fight against the forces of evil before a well-timed incantation from Katrina and a blood spell between Abbie and Ichabod seal away the Horseman and bring the town back into the proper dimension.
Their hard-fought victory is thoroughly bittersweet however, as they lose both Andy and Katrina in the process. In the weeks immediately following Katrina and Andy's demise, they cling to each other. Ichabod's grief is wild and consuming and Abbie can't shut her eyes without seeing the ache of longing and hurt in Andy's eyes before he was absolved. Eventually, Ichabod comes to terms with the fact that he will never return to his time and Abbie finds herself able to sleep through the night. But they are codependent, now more than ever.
Through avid research and collaboration they come to the conclusion that, for now, they are safe. But the Hessiens are undoubtedly planning something on All Hallows Eve and, in accordance to suggestions from Jenny, they spend a good deal of time combat training and pouring over various tomes and manuscripts in preparation.
When the lease to her dumpy apartment in the city ends, it is the natural progression that Abbie moves in with Ichabod. His ranting of impropriety aside, it is safer that way. They are vulnerable without one another. And there was simply no reason to risk kidnapping, assassination, or even worse, the stifling loneliness they felt absent of one another.
Living together is an… adjustment to put it lightly. As they slip into some semblance of normalcy they learn a myriad of things about each other, not all of them good. Ichabod could not have possibly have fathomed the extent of Abbie's temper. She throws the coffee pot at him once and then flatly refuses to speak to him for a length of three days.
Ichabod positively bristles at Abbie's impropriety. His honor could be called into question for the simple reason alone that he lives alone with a young, unmarried, impossibly lovely woman. But she makes it worse by flouncing around in next to nothing ("they're just gym shorts Crane, chill") and Ichabod is left sputtering and wagging his finger about and Abbie rolling her eyes until she finds herself finally resigned to live a life- or at least the next six years- in sweatpants to save herself the annoyance of Crane's 18th century morality and red cheeks.
Yet for all their bickering, truthfully there was no one either of them would choose to have at their side. They savor the bit of peace they are allotted for the remainder of spring and summer. It almost feels normal, though they know it will not last. Abbie shares the joys of Pinterest and her secret crafting hobby, adding little touches and flourishes all around until Corbin's cabin is the definition of rustic chic.
They order Chinese food and watch terrible television. They join a gym and Abbie has the time of her life explaining various equipment uses to Ichabod and watching him nearly blackout in spin class one day. Crane puts on twenty pounds of muscle and Abbie must devote a good deal of energy to not staring. Ichabod, through some of Jenny's shadier connects, is able to obtain a social security number, an ID and passport as well a job as a professor for an online course on the Renaissance. Slowly, but surely- 18th century politesse aside- he is adjusting.
When Yasmin calls Abbie one day in late June to inform her that she will be in town soon and the venue of her wedding is the old country club and asks, "oh pretty please can we have my bridal shower at your cabin?" Abbie nearly splutters her coffee out and considers skipping town. Every fiber of her being is screaming "noooo," and to go strangle Yasmin's gossiping skank of a cousin Sara who even told the bride-to-be of the cabin in the first place.
But she finds herself stuttering, "I'll have to check with my roommate first," because Yasmin is kind of her best friend and she can hardly find it in herself to ruin her bachelorette party.
"Oh yeahhh, I heard about him," Yasmin says, not even a little slyly(yep, Abbie is definitely going to strangle that skank) "well you two get that sorted out and let me know. It won't be anything too big Absters, okay; just a few girls from school and my cousin."
"Right," Abbie agrees, "I'll text you my answer."
"Okay," Yasmin, "I'm counting on you." The girl is about as subtle as a neon sign.
"Right," Abbie repeats herself. "I'll text you my answer, "and hangs up before she gets suckered into anything else.
When she arrives home at the end of her shift she finds Crane in the living engrossed in a tattered copy of "Great Expectations" and munching on popcorn. He's so wrapped up in the novel that he doesn't notice her until she comes up behind him and lightly smacks the back of arm.
"What's up?" She asks, plopping beside him.
"A great many things," he informs her shutting his book, "the price of oil, atrociously so, J.P Morgan stock, the sky."
Abbie rolls her eyes, unappreciative of his witticism. "Riight; I meant with you? What've you been doing today?"
Crane grins at her regardless, "well, I had a good deal of assignments to evaluate, so I've been mostly preoccupied by that today. But I'm afraid I've found myself procrastinating in favor of Mr. Dickens here."
Abbie nods, not sure what she is agreeing with. She isn't trying to beat around the bush per se, but she isn't all that thrilled to broach the subject of the bridal shower with Crane. It's not as if she has anything to be ashamed of, she's just not sure if she's ready to collide the worlds of her very rambunctious best friend, and Crane's 18th century reserve.
"What are you doing August 1st," she asks, knowing full well that Crane doesn't exactly have a jam-packed calendar. He pretty much does whatever she does, though occasionally, he and Irving have been going to a local tavern together.
"I believe I shall be marking more papers, provided there are no other pressing matters. As well as preparing my students for their exit exam. Have you something in mind?" He lays down the tattered novel and peers at her with curious, cerulean eyes.
"Noo," Abbie says, stretching the syllables. "Well, yeahh." More and more lately, she finds herself shifting under his ever studious gaze. "I need the cabin that day, well that night. Kind of both…I have a thing."
"A…thing," he says dubiously, brows raised, "do you mean to say a private engagement?"
"Yeah, you could call it that."
"I see," something fierce passes over Crane's face that catches Abbie off guard.
"It's nothing bad," she adds in hurry, "it's just-"
Cranes waves a dismissive hand at her, "you are quite entitled to your privacy Miss Mills. I shall make arrangements to be out that day and evening. I would not wish to intrude." He tries to say this flippantly but it comes out strangely bitter, even to his own ears.
Abbie instantly feels guilty, "I'm not trying to kick you out," she explains. "It'd probably just be weird if you were here…" she trails off.
"Yes, likely," Crane interrupts again "Again, I will endeavor to be out of the house during whichever time frame you feel necessary. I am aware that our living situation appears entirely inappropriate and would likely be ill-perceived by potential suitors. I vow that I will be of no hindrance to any potential amorous endeavors-"
"Wait, back up," it's Abbie's turn to interrupt. "Crane, I am not kicking you out of the house for a date!"
Ichabod simultaneously feels relief and surprise wash over him and likely his face, "you aren't?"
Abbie rakes her fingers through her hair in a huff, wondering why she even bothered to hide something so petty from him, "God, no. One of my girlfriends- my only girlfriend really- is coming to town for her wedding and she asked to have her bridal shower here."
"Oh- a bridal shower?" Ichabod replies, he is unsure of whether this is a good or bad thing given Abbie's earlier secrecy.
"It's like a party for bride-to-be," Abbie supplies. She has grown accustomed to answering the questions he never asks based on his inflection alone. "It's usually separate from men but if she's going non-traditional you can come. This is your home too." How she went from not wanting him to know about it at all to inviting him is beyond her.
"Oh," Crane says and reaches for his bowl of popcorn, munching thoughtfully. He is not certain how enjoyable or appropriate it would be to attend such a gathering. "Which girlfriend is this celebration for?"
Abbie dips her hand into the popcorn bowl as well, "old friend from high school, you've never met her."
Ichabod nods, considering. Abbie is very private; but throughout the tenure of their friendship Ichabod has discovered many facets of her personality. One being that Abbie doesn't tend to keep communication with those from her past.
"She must mean a great deal to you," he says, fishing, curious.
Abbie does that fascinating thing where her tongue glides over her teeth before she smiles softly. Ichabod is momentarily bewitched.
"Honestly, she's pretty much my best friend. I've known her since high school. She stuck by me even when I was going through," Abbie's hands make a wide, fluttering motion – all my shit." This is how she always refers to the darker, drug filled days of her past. "We've kept in touch. She's having her wedding at the country club, wants to have her bridal shower here; that cool?"
Ichabod has several dozen more questions, but he refrains. Abbie pretty much only shares when she is good and ready.
"Perfectly fine," he replies. "I shall endeavor to make arrangements for that evening.
Abbie gives him a grateful look and pulls out her smartphone to text her friend. "Thanks Crane."
The remainder of July whizzes by and outside of shutting down a group of teenage Satan worshippers determined to make virgin sacrifice; without much incident. August 1st arrives and Abbie is half dreading and half excited for all the things Yasmin has planned for the evening.
When Sara Perkins- Yasmin's cousin arrives two hours early to start setting up, Abbie is displeased because Ichabod is still in the house and Sara is a nosy bitch. She does her best to put on a 'I can at least tolerate you smile,' and lets Sara in the front door.
Sara is rather pretty, though not quite as lovely as her cousin. With almond shaped hazel eyes, long chestnut hair and an attractive smattering of freckles across her nose. Abbie hasn't liked her ever since Sara basically told her that Abbie wasn't good enough to be friends with her cousinand spread a nasty, high school rumor accusing Abbie of sleeping with history teacher. Consequently, Sara hasn't much cared for Abbie since the young lieutenant punched her dead in the face a week before prom. But they deal with each other for Yasmin's sake.
"Hi Abbie," Sara coos with obviously fake brightness, once she sets down two large brown paper bags. She envelops Abbie in a hug reeking of Chanel no. 5, Abbie feebly returns the gesture.
"Hey you." She has never been very good at faking her feelings. Sara is unaffected and Abbie motion to the bags. "Need help?
Sara nods, and turns back to the counter to pull out a package of pink and silver streamers. "We can start with this. I have to say Abbie I'm pretty surprised; I wasn't expecting your place to be so charming. It looks like something right out of a Home and G-"
Sara's statement is effectively cut short when Ichabod ambles into the living room looking like the most fuckable professor in the Universe. His hair is free of his usual tie and he is dressed in a grey button-up shirt, the first few buttons undone, straight legged jeans and gently worn leather boots. His carrier bag is slung over his body and he looks perplexed.
"Miss Mills, I seem to have misplaced my helmet. Tell me, have you seen it? I'm running late for my appointment with Captain Irving."
Abbie has tried to teach Crane to drive, and they are progressing, but it seems the more he learns about the modern world the less he wants to do with it. He prefers whenever at all possible the more "environmentally responsible," method of riding his bike. Goddamn 18th century hipster.
"Oh hello," Ichabod says gaily, having just noticed Sara, who is staring mouth slightly ajar. He sweeps closer to both of the women and Sara regains enough composure to stick her hand out and shake Ichabod's hand. "You must be Miss Yasmin," he continues, "it is a great pleasure to meet someone Miss Mills holds in such high esteem. I'm sure you're well aware of how difficult it is to attain her favor at all." There is teasing mirth in his tone and his eyes are shining.
Abbie blinks, he is being charming on purpose, trying to impress this girl he thinks is her best friend. Abbie would be flattered if it weren't for the fact that this isn't Yasmin and now Sara is simpering stupidly up at her partner.
"A-actually, I'm Sara," the brunette manages to get out, "Yasmin is my cousin. "
Ichabod's brows shoot up and his gaze flits to Abbie. He is well aware of the history between Sara and Abbie, having heard her bitter and slightly smug recount of the rumors and retribution.
"Ah, well just the same it is a true pleasure to meet your acquaintance," he says smoothly and removes his hand from Sara's. She is visibly disappointed by the action and Abbie has to bite back a snort.
"Your helmet is on the front porch, in wicker chair," Abbie says motioning to the door in reply to Ichabod's earlier query.
"Right then," Ichabod says and turns into the kitchen area to grab his BPA free water bottle with built in filter (he damn near refuses to leave the house without it ). "Well I'm off," he says, "I do hope you ladies enjoy the festivities. "
"We will" Abbie says at the same time Sara asks,
"When will you be getting back?"
Ichabod pauses at the doorway and Abbie shoots a fierce glare at Sara and then Ichabod, who is entirely unsure of what he has done to make her cross with him. "Miss Mills has informed me that the carousing shall end no later than 1:30 am so I believe sometime around…then.'
He trails off as Abbie s glaring even harder at him now, her body language promising righteous fury. "Right then," he says in a rush, opening the door and hurrying out, "enjoy your evening."
As soon as the door closes Sara whirls to Abbie, "how on earth do you get anything done with that British god around?"
Abbie wonders if she will be able to make it through the evening without punching this woman in the face. She tosses her frenemy the package of streamers. "Decorate. Now." She commands.
The cabin looks equal parts pretty and trashy for the bridal shower. There is an obscene amount of pink, several bottles of tequila, an arrangement of all kinds of catered finger foods and a penis cake. Abbie has a bad feeling about this. And it has a lot to do with the alarming amount of phallic shaped decorations and the banner hung across her living room that reads "Cheers Bitches."
"Everything looks great," Sara says clasping her hands together, "I've just got to go the my car to grab a few more things and –"
"Do you really think a penis cake is the best thing to serve your mother," Abbie interrupts.
"No, but mom won't be here tonight, just us bridesmaids," Sara titters before heading to her car.
Abbie can feel a migraine building behind her eyes; she has the most sneaking suspicion…
-Sara whisks back into the room, two of the bridesmaids have arrived and come in with her. Sara is holding a collapsible stripper pole in one hand and a penis shaped piñata. –
And Abbie knows she has been tricked into hosting a bachelorette party.
When Yasmin arrives twenty minutes later, dressed smartly in a tight black dress and red pumps, honey blonde hair teased big and curly. She hugs Abbie tightly and says, "thanks so much for all this bestie, you're amazing."
Abbie hugs her back because she has actually missed this ridiculous woman. She reminds her of everything about a life she will never have.
"Yeahhh," Abbie says a little furtively because she doesn't want to seem like a total bitch but, "what the hell Yas, you told me this was a bridal shower."
Yasmin looks a bit put out, "wha- oh my god Abbie that's exactly what this is."
Abbie screws her eyes shut, fighting off the oncoming migraine, "Nooo, this is a bachelorette party."
Yasmin laughs a little, and has the nerve to look at Abbie like she is the crazy one "okaaay- isn't that the same thing?"
The petite lieutenant massages her fingers against her temples, wondering if it's coincidence or some weird self-flagellation that she always surrounds herself with people that she must constantly provide answers for.
"No, Yasmin. A bridal shower is a tame little get together the bride has with girlfriends and family wherein she receives gifts. A bachelorette party is a drunken hot mess usually involving strippers and shenanigans."
Yasmin's lips form a round 'o,' and her look of surprise is both genuine and exasperating, it could easily give Ichabod a run for his money.
"I guess I didn't realize the difference," Yasmin says looking at Abbie sheepishly," the gift giving thing is in a couple days, Brandon and I were going to do that together." She reaches for the short brunette's arm, "don't be mad Abbie, it'll all be over before you know it."
"I'm not mad, I just wasn't expecting to spend my night with strippers and penis cakes," Abbie heaves a long suffering sigh and makes a dismissive waving motion, purses her lips. "You know what forget it, this is your night and I'm not going to ruin it." Abbie has no idea how she's going to explain all the phallic decorations to her time-displaced and extremely modest roommate but if there's one thing she is not, it's a party pooper.
Yasmin smiles brilliantly, nose crinkling, "you really are best Abbie," she coos, linking arms with her. "Now, let's go get you changed into something sexy, we have strippers to sexually harass."
By the time Abbie has been harassed into a tight leather skinny pants and a black peplum top that really does make her rack look "a-fucking-mazing," as Yasmin put it; the other bridesmaids have arrived and Abbie has resolved that she is going to get drunk. Its only 7 'o clock and she has no idea how to get through this ordeal any other way.
After a particularly rousing game of "Pin the Junk On the Hunk," and breaking apart the penis piñata (obviously it is Abbie- who can bench 200 lbs- who accomplishes this feat). The girls are all sitting around in the living room giggling and gossiping over margaritas. Abbie ponders how she manages to feel displaced in her own living room.
"What about you Abbie?" Claire (Blair?), a bridesmaid from upstate is asking, interrupting Abbie's pining for a demon baddie to break through the doors and break up this whole debacle.
"Huh?"
"Are you seeing anyone?"
"No," she replies flatly. "I really don't have time for a relationship right now.'
"Oh come on," Sara prods, "you really aren't hitting that hottie Brit?
Abbie glares, Yasmin smirks and several of the bridesmaids perk up.
"No," Abbie says in a tone that invites no further question, "we work together, I needed a roommate, he needed somewhere to stay, he pays half the bills and minds his own damn business."
Yasmin rolls her eyes, "in translation she likes him but doesn't wanna fuck it up. Don't tease her guys," the bride-to-be says to the room, "Abbie's always been the kind of girl that takes her time. You know, taking it slow is how Brandon and I got to where we are today," she says with a wink and sip of her margarita.
There's several murmured agreements and while Abbie is grateful that to her friend for diffusing the situation, the bride-to-be's assessment of the situation is not inaccurate. More and more Abbie finds herself unsure of how to behave in relation to her rapidly developing feelings for Crane.
There is a knock at the door and several of the girls squeal with delight, Abbie downs the rest of her margarita, chomps the remainder of a penis cookie and goes to pour another drink. The strippers have arrived.
Abbie wants nothing to do with any of this and she watches with a disdainful sneer- Crane would be so proud- as Sara giggles her way to the door and 3 muscular men, dressed as a firefighter, a cop and cowboy step into her living room.
This is apparently supposed to be the highlight of the evening, being chased around and grinded on by complete strangers. And while the other girls shriek with delight and 'ooh' and 'ah.' When Abbie is lifted into the air and literally dry humped by the firefighter and now naked cowboy the only feeling she can summon is traumatization and the desire to shoot someone.
Face hot and feeling quite tipsy, Abbie retreats from the festivities. She spends the remainder of the strippers' time there in the kitchenette licking frosting off of penis and boobie cookies, texting Crane and polishing off two more margaritas.
'are you enjoying yourself.' Crane wants to know. He is apparently grading papers at a 24 hour café before heading for the gym. Abbie doesn't know if it's the alcohol or the codependence but she misses him and is ready for this whole mess to be over.
'I'm enjoying this margarita,' she replies, just sober enough to leave out the part about the longing.
'partaking in spirits at such an esteemed event? your delinquency never ceases to be a wonder.'
Abbie snickers; she'd informed Crane that this would be a classy affair. She didn't even want to think about what he would say when he arrived home to a cracked open penis piñata and the condoms, candy and cock rings that were strewn about the living room. If she wasn't so tipsy she'd be worried.
"There you are," Yasmin exclaims stumbling into the kitchen. Her hair is mussed and eyes bright with intoxication. "My beautiful, beautiful bestie." The blonde wraps Abbie into a hug and holds her smartphone arm's length away to snap a picture of the two of them.
Abbie just laughs, she should probably be annoyed but she isn't. Yasmin, despite her flaws really is the sweetest, kindest person she knows. Well, besides Ichabod that is.
"Come on," Yasmin says motioning Abbie back to the living room, "The strippers are gone, and I wanna take some body shots."
I just couldn't resist. Drunk Abbie has existed in my head canon for weeks now. Had to let her out Feedback is always appreciated :) Coming up...
"
Abbie has this bad habit where she gets a little drunk and then getting drunker only seems like the next logical (and most exciting) step when it really isn't. Grabbing Yasmin's hands she half-skips into the living room, raises their linked palms into the air and jubilantly declares to the seven other, very tipsy girls in the room. "BOOODDDYYY SHOTTTSS!"