Chapter Text
Heather Duke knew it was time to leave Kurt's party the second she found herself kneeling beside Heather McNamara in the half-bathroom, holding her hair and gently rubbing circles on her back.
Duke knew she was supposed to keep an eye on the younger girl — make sure she didn't drink too hard, make sure nobody took advantage of her — but Mac was quickly lost in the crowd, so merely 2 hours later she was dragged into the bathroom by a very drunk and upset McNamara.
Duke had raided Kurt's linen closet for a washcloth, briefly running it under cold water. It hit her suddenly that she'd be stuck with the other Heather for the rest of the night.
After Mac had stopped vomiting, Duke pulled her up by the arm — unintentionally roughly, she had winced at that — and sat her on the (now closed) toilet.
"Heather-" McNamara's voice was slightly weary. Duke cut her off almost immediately.
"Shh. Let me help you before I change my mind." Duke saw the ghost of an appreciative smile grace Mac's lips as she brushed her hair off of her forehead, dabbing it with the cold washcloth.
She had oversaturated it, and that was apparent when little beads of water began to run down McNamara's brow. She blinked the water out of her eyes, peering sideways at Duke through her eyelids. "I've gotta go home," she murmured quietly.
"...Yeah. I know. Look, after we finish in here we can go find Heather."
"She's not gonna come, is she? It's only..." She cast a sideward glance at the digital clock on the counter. "Ten...ish. It's almost ten."
Duke wiped at her mouth, barely able to look at what she was doing. "Ugh, I don't care in the slightest. I'll come back for her later if I have to."
Mac laughed, grinning stupidly despite the situation. Her eyes were trained on Duke, watching her hands. "You're different when it's just us."
"...Am I?" Duke asked, brushing the stray water droplets off the underside of McNamara's jaw with the back of her hand.
"Yeah. Good different, ya know? You smile more. I like it when you smile."
'Right.'
Duke was used to drunk Mac, yet this time she couldn't tell if it was her overly lovey-dovey drunken persona talking, or if that was a genuine compliment. Either way, it garnered some sort of reaction out of her. Something flashed across her face, but it was gone too fast for her to be certain.
"...Thank you, Heather."
"No prob, Dukie! ...And thank you, too. You take good care of me."
She hated that nickname, but it comes out every time Mac gets drunk. Every single time. To the point where it's become useless to tell her to stop.
"No worries." 'That's what friends are for,' Duke wanted to say. She had stopped herself, overly cautious of how the other girl viewed her. Were they even really friends? She scooped McNamara's discarded red solo cup off of the bathroom floor, rinsing it out and ultimately letting it fill a little before the rim with cold water.
She brought the full cup over to Mac. "Okay. Water."
McNamara accepted the cup from her, bringing it to her mouth slowly and carefully. She peered over the rim at Duke in a silent thank you, downing the cup in one go. Duke nodded at her, leaning against the bathroom door.
As Mac finished the water, Duke took the empty cup and placed it back on the sink. They sat in momentary silence, the only sound being the distant thumping of music and muffled voices outside.
Duke couldn't help but feel a surge of protectiveness toward Mac. ...But she always did, didn't she? McNamara was soft. Too soft for her own good, in this moment.
"...I can not let you face your parents like this."
Mac rolled her eyes. "This is no worse than last time. Or the time before that."
"You're coming home with me."
"I am no—"
"You are."
Mac's protest was cut off by the firmness in Duke's voice. She knew better than to argue when Duke had that tone. There was a determination in her eyes that Mac had come to trust implicitly over the years they had known each other.
Duke stood up and extended her hand to Mac. "Come on, Heather. Let's get you out of here."
Reluctantly, Mac took Duke's hand and allowed herself to be pulled up from the toilet seat. She swayed slightly, her head spinning from the alcohol, but Duke steadied her with a firm grip on her arm.
The two Heathers made their way through the crowded party, Duke leading the stumbling McNamara toward the exit whilst scanning the people around them for any sign of Chandler. They received a few curious glances and half-hearted attempts from partygoers to engage them in conversation, but Duke's focused determination and McNamara's wobbly state deterred anyone from interfering.
A flash of red caught Duke's eye, and she steered Mac towards the third Heather.
Leaning against the wall near the front door was Heather Chandler, her signature red scrunchie contrasting against her platinum blonde hair. She was engaged in a conversation with a guy who seemed overly interested in her, but her eyes flickered towards Duke and McNamara as they approached.
Chandler excused herself from the conversation, cutting the guy off, and turned her attention to the other two Heathers. "Heather. ...and Heather. You let her get drunk again? Quelle surprise." she scoffed, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Dukie's taking me home," McNamara stated matter-of-factly to no one in particular, swaying slightly and leaning on Duke for support.
"...Yeah. That. Just wanted to let you know. You can come with, or I can grab you later, or..."
Chandler rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "Shut up, Heather. I'm still having fun. Unlike you, I don't enjoy playing babysitter all the time."
Duke clenched her jaw, momentarily considering snapping at her. "...Alright. Have a good night, then."
Chandler rolled her eyes once again. "Aren't you just a saint tonight? Go on, then. Bye-bye." She waved at the two in a sort of condescending manner.
Without another word, Duke turned away from Chandler, guiding McNamara out the door. The cool night air hit them as they stepped outside, providing some sort of sobering relief.
They approached Duke's Jeep in comfortable silence, Mac leaning against Duke for support. Duke fished her car keys out of her pocket, unlocking the doors and helping McNamara into the passenger seat. She buckled her in, making sure she was secure before closing the door. Duke took a moment to lean against the car, taking a deep breath to steady herself.
Maybe it would've been better to not play babysitter.