Star Blessed

Hangovers and Meetings

Werewolves rarely got hangovers. They had to drink stupid amounts of liquor to achieve the dry mouth, stomach aching, and head pounding consequences. Raff groaned as he rolled over in his bed. He'd consumed a very, very stupid amount of liquor the previous night, as indicated by the numerous bottles strewn about the floor and on his bed.

He sat up slowly, urging the room to stop spinning. Like a man twice his age, he twisted his body so that his feet touched the floor, and he put his hands on the edge of the bed to push himself up. It was a decision he immediately regretted. Something cold and wet covered his sheets, and from the rancid stench, he knew he'd vomited in  his sleep.

"Dude Bourbon street during Mardi Gras smells better than it does in here."

Light flooded the room, making Raff wince, the blue of his eyes glowing as his wolf flashed his irritation. "Damn it Lincoln, that was unnecessary."

Rising to his feet, he trudged over to the liquor cabinet. Already the effects were fading as his rapid healing took over, and he didn't want a moment of lucidity.

"Ah nope. Not today my friend," Lincoln growled, blocking his path. "We're supposed to go into Camden to meet with the Guardians."

"You can go into Camden to meet with them."

"Does that mean you're ready to concede leadership to me? Let's just go ahead and make it official." His Beta pushed him, his eyes glimmering amber as he gathered his full height.

    With his head rapidly clearing, Raff snarled and let his hands shift partially. "Alright pup, even hammered into next Tuesday, I could still defend my title as Alpha. Don't take this somewhere you're not prepared to go. You know what happens to the losers."

    Instead of responding verbally, Lincoln shoved him again. Raff took a step back, giving the man another chance to change his mind. But when he spied the russet fur sprouting on Lincoln's arms, his wolf took charge.

    Together they tumbled across the room, a tangle of snapping teeth and paws. Blood stained his tongue, the coppery taste invigorating and fueling his rage. The wolves broke apart and crouched low, circling one another warily. With the eyes of a soldier, he saw that Lincoln wasn't putting full weight on his front left paw, and the fur on his left haunch was a deeper red. He assessed himself for injuries, and besides a slight tenderness on his right shoulder, he was in perfect condition. Lincoln wouldn't last another round.

    His wolf preened and readied himself for victory, but the man inside snapped awake. Wresting control from the beast, he resumed his human form. In most challenges for power, this would be an automatic elimination, but Raff knew his friend. And this wasn't about taking on the roll of Alpha.

    "You got it figured out yet?" Lincoln asked, now in human form as well. Blood trickled from his butt cheek to his ankle, and he his arm hung limply at his side.

    "Every time I sleep, I see her falling into the ocean. It plays on repeat. This-" he gestured towards the bottles littering his room, "is the only way I sleep anymore."

    "I've been so mad at you for letting her wreck you like that. You met her twice and didn't even fuck her. But then I remembered that just because I don't understand your feelings, doesn't mean they aren't real."

    "Thanks Dr. Phil," Raff said, trying to infuse some levity into the room. Lincoln didn't crack a smile.

    "But just because I can't change those feelings, it doesn't mean I can't help you get back on your feet. You need to start being our leader again. It's been almost seven months. You need to channel that energy somewhere. And right now that's against the Starless pack and whatever shit they're stirring up right now."