11 ; pussy is a privilege

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Here's the thing: Wallace loves his sister. Truly he does. But sometimes he wishes that Shelby cared a little less about him. On any good day, Shelby was the vision of a saint. But on other days, whenever time allowed her to be, she was the biggest asshole.

"I read somewhere that ginger helps with beating sickness," Shelby states, her fingers brushing a bottle of liquid in Wallace's direction. Dark eyes watching as Wallace lifted his eyes upwards from his cereal bowl to glance at the plastic shot bottle she was extending in his direction.

"Ginger and kale energy shot?" Wallace questioned, chewing on one of his Cocoa Puffs and lifting his eyes to meet his sister's own after having read the bottle's label. "You can't actually think I'm going to take this?"

"You're sniffling," Shelby snaps, pointing towards his nose with a long finger. "I heard you coughing last night too. These walls are paper thin."

Wallace cringes internally, hating to be reminded that he couldn't even swallow in his bedroom without Shelby at least hearing part of it. Luckily, he and Shelby had an unspoken policy about mentioning things like that to one another. Sometimes it was better to just pretend like you were oblivious to the strange sounds that would come from your sibling's bedroom from time to time.

"Don't remind me," Wallace groans, sliding off the stool at his kitchen island and padding with bare feet towards the kitchen sink. He let the rest of the milk from his bowl land in the drain before turning on the water to clean out his bowl. "Either way, it's a small cough. It'll pass."

"I can't afford to take you to the doctor Wall," Shelby stated after a moment, and her voice held a tremor of guilt. "Medical insurance isn't something I can pay for right now. Not on top of everything else."

Turning, Wallace really looked at his sister. Her beautiful soft face and worry lines. He tried to imagine what she would look like if his parents weren't gone. How she'd look without the stress fraying the hair at her temples, or the dark purple bags underneath her eyes from the late night shifts at work. Wallace barely remembered what she looked like before their mother had died. 

"Give me the damn shot," Wallace intoned, lifting a hand to make a grabby motion towards the ominous shot on the counter. Groaning whenever Shelby was quick to snatch the shot from the counter and hand it to him with a winning grin. Wallace unscrewed the top of the shot, sniffing and gagging into the crook of his arm. 

Shelby slapped his arm sharply, an unamused expression on her face as she placed her hands onto her hips. "Oh please Wallace, I've seen you chug a fifth of whiskey before. Take the shot you big baby."

Grimacing, Wallace downed the ginger and kale shot as quickly as he could. Ignoring the slim trails of green juice that fell down the sides of his chin as he swallowed thickly. The taste was sharp, like someone had mixed blood, pepper, and grass together. 

"Fuck," Wallace gagged, but he threw the empty bottle into the sink beside him. "That's terrible."

Shelby's grin was large as Wallace looked at her. His sister's eyes twinkling with mirth for the first time in about a month. "So don't put it on the grocery list next time I go to the store?"

"Piss off Shell," Wallace grumbled, giving her the middle finger before exiting the kitchen to the loud laughter at his back.

Making his way towards the living room, Wallace grabbed his phone from the side table by the couch. Flicking it open with a finger to find that his groupchat with Olly, Kinney, and Dawson was blaring with life. He grumbled, falling onto the couch, and read through the messages. 

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