I’m writing this from my phone so bear with me. Set during s7 when Trixie relapses, so, TW for alcoholism.
13. “Your eyes are so pretty.”
Valerie groans as she rolls out a crick in her neck, tossing down her cloak, sweater, and hat on the bed. It’s getting late, but after a delivery that had taken hours, she would just about kill someone for a hot bath. Only, when she rattles the handle of the bathroom down the hall, the door doesn’t open.
“Who is it?” comes Trixie’s reply, her voice strangely tight. Valerie frowns at the clink of glass on tile.
“It’s Valerie,” she answers. “Trixie, are you alright?”
“Rather horrid, actually,” she replies. The words are followed by a hollow laugh. “Tends to happen when my life goes to shambles. Suppose I should be used to it by now.”
Valerie sighs, her bath long forgotten. “Trixie, open the door.”
“No.” Her words are blurring as if she’s drunk but this one comes out clear and strong, stubborn as always. “I don’t want you to see me like this. You were lucky enough to miss it the first time.”
“Oh, Trixie,” Valerie sighs. Without sparing another thought, she tugs a pin from her hair and sticks it into the lock. It’s been a while since she had to use this particular skill, but the latch of this door isn’t exactly meant to protect the Crown Jewels.
When she gets the door open she finds Trixie sitting on the edge of the bathtub, staring down at a mostly empty glass of some sort of liquor. The bottle is on the floor next to her, almost empty as well. Valerie winces at the sight.
“Alright, let’s get you back to bed. It’s getting late.”
Trixie scowls, almost pouting up at her. It’s an adorable expression, Valerie thinks, then shakes herself. Now is not the time for such thoughts. “Up you get.” She takes the glass from Trixie and slides an arm around her waist, not sure her friend will be steady on her feet at this point. “Come on, we’re just going down the hall.”
As expected, she mostly has to carry Trixie, holding her close enough that she can smell her sweet shampoo, her delicate perfume. It all smells so neat and familiar but her friend is falling apart and needs her help so Valerie should not be focusing on the softness of her hair against her cheek. They make it back to their bedroom and she gently lays Trixie on the bed, but when she stands to move away, Trixie reaches up slowly, twining her fingers through the strands of hair that had fallen loose when Valerie had used her hair pin to pick the lock.
“Your hair is soft,” she murmurs. “Your eyes are so pretty.”
Funnily enough, Valerie finds herself thinking the same thing. She blushes, wondering how much of this Trixie will remember in the morning.
“Thanks,” she manages awkwardly.
“I’ve decided to swear off of love for a while,” Trixie murmurs. “But if I hadn’t, you would be a nice choice.”
Valerie gives her a lopsided smile even though her heart is thudding in her chest. “I think you’ll find there are several problems with that.”
Trixie shakes her head. “No problems with you,” she insists. “You’re perfect.”
“Well,” she laughs, “you’re doing better than I am.”
Valerie takes Trixie’s hand in hers and kisses her knuckles, though every bit of sense she has is telling her not to. “Give yourself some credit, Trix,” she murmurs. “You’re stronger than you think.”
Trixie smiles, shakes her head, and then closes her eyes and promptly falls asleep.
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