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Pairing: gen - Will Graham
Table: Who Said What Now, tv_universe
Prompt: "Looks like that pooch was hittin' the hooch!" -- Greg Sanders.
Author's Note: One-shot.
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the lovely Will Graham, unfortunately, just borrowing him for a while. Please do not sue.
***Will bounded up the front steps to his house, pulling his keys out of his pocket. It was oddly quiet; usually, the dogs were barking inside, knowing that he was on his way home and waiting impatiently for him to get there to let them out for their evening run.
Today, they were quiet, even though he could hear them at the door. Still, it seemed strange that they weren't doing their usual barking.
When he opened the door, three of the dogs rushed outside; Winston was conspicuously absent.
Will frowned as he closed the door and went into the kitchen; he hoped that Winston hadn't gotten sick. His dogs tended to stay healthy, but he always worried if any of them showed signs of not feeling well; he always felt that he wasn't being a good dog parent if they got ill.
The first thing he saw when he entered the kitchen was the bottle of whiskey he'd been drinking last night. He hadn't really liked the taste; he'd only been drinking a couple of glasses in the hope that it would make him drowsy and help him sleep.
It hadn't. All it had done was give him a headache in the morning.
He didn't remember dropping the bottle. Yet there it was on the floor, smashed to bits in the remnants of what could only have been a puddle of liquor.
Yet there didn't seem to be enough whiskey around the pieces of glass; he knew that he'd only had two glasses last night. He hadn't drunk that much. So where was the rest of it? It wasn't hot enough for it to have evaporated, and anyway, that wouldn't happen.
He was really beginning not to like this.
He heard a soft whine from the direction of the living room, and went out of the kitchen to look. That had definitely sounded like Winston. He was thoroughly worried now.
The couch. Behind the couch. Will cautiously moved to where he could see behind the large, comfortable couch -- and there was his dogs, lying with his paws over his head as though he was trying to hide himself from view of anyone who might find him.
"Winston? What''s the matter, boy?" His voice was quiet; he didn't want to startle the dog, though Winston wasn't one to snarl or attack even when he was provoked.
The dog only looked up at him with large, sad eyes, and whined again.
Will sniffed the air; he could definitely smell whiskey. Why would Winston smell like liquor, unless .... as it dawned on him just what the problem might be, Will didn't know whether to sign in exasperation, or burst into laughter. After all, it was kind of funny.
He'd never heard of a dog getting drunk before, but that was apparently just what Winston had done. He'd licked up the whiskey on the floor around the broken glass.
It sounded crazy, but it was just like Winston to do something like that. He was insatiably curious.
Will hoped that he hadn't gotten any glass embedded in his tongue; he'd have to look, but he didn't think so. If he had, then he would rush the dog to the vet, but Winston didn't seem to be in pain. Just hung over, as anyone who'd gotten drunk on whiskey would be.
"Looks like that pooch was hitting the hooch a little too hard," he murmured, unable to hold back his laughter. "Winston, you should be ashamed of yourself."
The dog certainly looked ashamed; he looked mortified. And miserable.
"Sorry, buddy, you're going to have to sleep it off, just like people do," Will told him, giving Winston a sympathetic look. "Now you know how I feel when I drink. Which is why I don't do it. Last night was a big mistake for me, and you just got the fallout."
It only took him a few moments to get Winston's mouth open and inspect his tongue; the dog didn't look as though he'd sustained any damage, but he'd probably take him by the vet's in the morning, just in case. He wanted to make sure there were no ill effects.
Things like this really could be an unexpected pain in the ass.
Still, he couldn't help smiling a little as he got to his feet. A drunk dog! Well, nobody could say that his life was completely dull with his dogs around.
Will sighed softly as he headed into the kitchen to get a mop and clean up the mess. He hoped that the other dogs hadn't gotten into the broken glass. He'd have to check them out, too.
At least this was a distraction from all of his other problems. A welcome one.
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