I know not a lot of people on here know a lot about me but-!! I have unilateral microtia and atresia, which means I have little to no ear on my right side! I was born with it, and I've always been entirely deaf in that ear... UP UNTIL TODAY!! Today, after a grueling 6 weeks of waiting, I finally received my hearing aid!! I am ecstatic for lack of a better term- It makes such a huge difference already- I'm learning the ins and outs of the use and what I can do with it, which is reallllly cool tbh!! I ended up getting the Oticon BAHA processor for those that are super curious! It's a really great BAHA TBH. I DUNNO IM JUST SO EXCITED- Its crazy just being able to HEAR PEOPLE- hear THINGS- like cars and bugs and birds and my piano and-- it's all so cool and amazing and I'm so excited and happy- /7\ I can't wait for many more days of using it!!!!! 💜💜💜
She doesn’t know when it happened. But it happened. Quietly. Gradually. Gently. Unknowingly.
AN: I was rewatching All Stars 2 on a 14 hour plane ride to Europe and wrote this on the plane ride home because I couldn’t get it out of my head. It’s unedited and messy and basically a scattered brain on a long haul flight manifested in a 3,000 word story.
And, uh, if you like it – let me know. Turns out, sitting in a plane for half a day is great for *productivity*. So there’s another story in this same universe if you guys decide you like this.
My Craquaria fic is still being written – just had to purge a little.
—
Alaska doesn’t know when it happened — when she started calling her Katya (proper, formal, professional) then Ka-tee-ya (drawn out vowels, markedly Alaska) then Kataya (“My mom didn’t know how to say her name for a while and was calling her Kataya,” she said in an interview and it became a running joke but really it was just endearing) then Kati (Only Alaska calls her Kati, as far as she knows. And only Alaska can call her Kati. Because why would they? That’s not her name). Sometimes it’s an irreverent butchering of her name but she does it with the purest of intentions. And only in public. Now it’s just Brian. Or some sort of an overly sappy, teeth-rotting pet name. And it sounds more natural. And real.
It wasn’t until she lost her phone — in a cab, or the airport, or a plane, or another airport, in a car, in an event venue, a hotel room, wherever, whenever, whatever — that she realizes that Katya’s constant texts or phone calls or video calls, seemingly a continuous stream of consciousness, has stopped being Too Much and Infuriating to her.
(Alaska asks Trixie how she does it. How she can keep on listening to Katya go on tangents about anything and everything and not want to strangle her.
“Oh, you think I don’t?” Trixie laughs. “I constantly want to strangle her. Or kill myself. Which I think would be an easier option.” Trixie shoots herself in the mouth with two finger guns.
“TRACY!” Alaska laughs — screeches, really — and almost falls off the stool as she does.)
She doesn’t know when it happened. But it happened. Quietly. Gradually. Gently. Unknowingly.
(After a show, with everyone scrambling to get out of drag, trying to get the fuck out of this place and into bed, Katya’s going on about something or another on some sort of a live video. Alaska’s observing her from afar. She zones out of her (one-sided) conversation with Detox and focuses her attention on Katya. She laughs as she finally catches the gist of Katya’s seemingly endless and nonsensical story.
“Why are you laughing?” Detox asks, pulling Alaska back into THEIR conversation.
“What?” she asks automatically as she focuses back on Detox.
Detox looks at Alaska’s reflection on the mirror. Then at Katya’s. “I can’t believe people actually stay up to tune in to that,” she says. “Bitch gives me a fucking headache.”
Alaska laughs. Because it’s true. The bitch gives everyone a headache. Except her. Not anymore, apparently. “Verbal diarrhea. Like she’s dumping her psyche online,” Alaska explains. “Makes her more relatable, I guess. It’s cute.”
“When did you start finding that cute?”
Alaska locks eyes with Detox on the mirror, scrunches her nose, and pouts her lips. “I don’t knoooooow,” she drawls. And she really doesn’t.)
And now she’s uncomfortable at the sudden peace and quiet. She doesn’t know what to do. She’s usually on the phone with Katya as soon as she lands until she’s pulling up to their apartment. She just knows she needs to get home. Home to Katya. To Brian. A new phone can wait until tomorrow.
She comes home to an empty apartment. It’s as tidy as it will ever be. There’s mail on the floor. Why Katya didn’t pick it up, she doesn’t know. There’s an unwashed spoon and bowl in the kitchen sink, still with oatmeal left, almost calling out her name for a wash. There’s a cheap pair of heels, superglue, and some crystals on the coffee table. There’s also a new addition to their plant babies on the windowsill. Oh no, another mouth to feed. Alaska moves to admire them but is stopped by the sudden sound of retching coming from the bathroom.
Katya’s on the bathroom floor, head resting against the toilet seat. She lifts her head to see Alaska’s worried face. “Mother, I’ve been having morning sickness again,” she manages to say before Alaska could ask. She’s been in and out of the bathroom the whole morning, throwing up everything she takes in, so she’s decided to camp out instead.
Alaska grabs a towel before sitting on the floor beside Katya. “It was ONE time. Are you telling me I should have pulled out?” Alaska says with a straight face. Katya laughs — it’s weak, but it’s there, and the effort hurts. “Because, honey, you know that’s not how it works, right?”
“I didn’t go to fucking school for math.” Katya laughs again, more force this time, and Alaska joins in. She leans her head against Alaska when they finally calm down. “You’re home,” she says kissing Alaska’s shoulder.
Alaska nods. She kisses the top of Katya’s head. “I AM home,” she says. “And I lost my phone.” Alaska thinks she’s been trying to get in touch. Katya mumbles something about getting a new one tomorrow and Alaska agrees. That’s not important, for now.
It takes them a while to get up from the floor. Mostly because Katya has to throw up again. And again. And again. Each time finding herself crawling back into Alaska’s lap. All the traveling has Alaska’s back hurting but she doesn’t want to get up until Katya feels better. Solidarity. Poor, Kati. Alaska offers to take her to the doctor but Katya refuses. “Can you just call my mom? Or my sister?” Katya suggests.
She remembers that Pat’s a nurse. And she can help. She’s probably the only legitimate medical professional Katya trusts. “Your mom, okay,” she agrees. “But why your sister?”
Katya sits up to look Alaska straight in the eyes. “She’s a veterinary pathologist,” she explains, enunciating each syllable as if that would explain how she could help Katya at the moment.
“Exactly! She’s a veterinarian - AN ANIMAL DOCTOR!” she says trying to get up from the floor. She doesn’t know why Katya insists on deferring to the medical expertise of her sister whenever she has a medical issue because well, she’s not a human doctor, but Katya is Katya. She’ll indulge her sometimes. Not today though, not when she looks like she’s dying and dead. “You’re not a dog, Brian,” Alaska reminds her, AS IF she needed reminding that she is indeed of a different species.
Katya gets up on all fours. “But I AM an animal,” she pants before literally rolling on the floor laughing. Alaska has to laugh along with her because she walked right into that trap.
Alaska doesn’t know when she’s come to accept that nothing that comes out of Katya’s mouth will ever be as expected. But she always expects to be surprised.
(Another flight delay in the chronicles of touring drag queens. No one is happy but they’re trying to keep the beast mode to a minimum. It’s a silent but solid agreement that only one queen can lose their shit at any given time. None of them are having a breakdown at the moment. And that’s good. No one needs whiny ass bitches right now.
Katya opens a bag of Skittles and settles in. “Let’s get serious here for a moment,” she says turning her body to face Alaska. She mirrors Katya’s position, knees touching knees. She agrees and takes Katya’s candy to share. “What exactly do you want to wake up to everyday?” Katya asks very seriously.
With Katya, you never know what you’re going to get. Some days, it’s all nonsense. Some days, like today, it’s this. Smart. Deep. Existential. Alaska’s quite taken aback by the question. She thinks for a moment, as she chews on her Skittles, that maybe her tired brain can’t handle these types of questions. She considers a shallow answer. But shallow is not what Katya wants. “Warmth,” she answers. And frankly, she can’t believe that she’s comfortable enough with Katya to be this candid with her. Katya furrows her brows as if prompting her to elaborate. “Not in the literal sense, as in heat,” she starts to explain. “But, as in, the feeling of warmth and contentment. Whether I wake up alone or next to someone, I just want to wake up to a feeling of warmth, positivity, comfort, and safety.”
Katya is surprised. Genuinely surprised. “Wow,” she says blinking at Alaska. She grabs Alaska’s shoulders. “May I remind you, ma’am, that THIS is an airport,” she says seriously, raising her hands to solidify her point. “I came here to catch FLIGHTS, not feelings.” Katya abruptly gets up, leaving Alaska dumbfounded, thinking: feelings?)
Alaska calls Pat on Katya’s phone while she unpacks and Katya showers. They both agree it’s because of Katya’s shitty food choices. “He was filming with Trixie yesterday,” Alaska offers. It was a dumb explanation but it made sense to them both. Pat laughs. She knows. Everyone knows. All Katya takes in when she’s filming is caffeine and sugar. Nothing substantial. Nothing nutritious. Alaska promises to sneak in more greens.
Katya’s mom tells her what medicine to buy and what flavor of Pedialyte to get “because Brian gets very particular about that.” Alaska knows. “I’m sorry you have to live with a child, Justin,” she says in jest. Alaska agrees. Completely. She doesn’t mind though.
Alaska catches up with Pat for a bit while she sorts through her stuff. She doesn’t know when talking to Katya’s mom became like talking to her own — it’s comforting. She tells her they’ll try to come visit soon. Katya catches the tail end of their conversation, only to sneak in a hi mom, love you, bye, before the call ends.
She thanks Alaska for calling her mom, declares that she’s feeling so much better now that Alaska’s home, and starts to help with the unpacking. No, not really. All she’s really doing is playing with Alaska’s feather boa.
Katya makes a show of plopping herself onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. Alaska looks at her suspiciously. “I feel like there’s something you want to say.”
“I don’t want to be dramatic but —”
“Let me stop you right there.” Alaska holds her hand up to stop Katya from talking. “I can tell you right now that you are physically incapable of not being dramatic. You may continue,” she says with a hand flourish.
Katya crosses her arms and looks away. “I have feelings, you know. And you hurt them.”
Alaska crosses the room to sit beside Katya. “Uh, Brian,” she says, unsure. Her heart is pounding in her chest. She must be genuinely upset. But Katya being Katya, this can also be one of her stupid antics. She hopes it IS just one of her stupid antics. Katya refuses to look at her. She moves closer, enveloping Katya in a hug. “Brian, what’s wrong?”
“Alaska Joanne Elizabeth Thunderfun,” Katya starts. Alaska sighs in relief. This isn’t serious. But she’ll keep up the charade until Katya’s done talking. “Well, you’ve been home 4 hours and you haven’t even properly kissed me yet.” Katya pouts. “I brushed my teeth, mama. I don’t have vomity breath.” Serious enough, Alaska thinks. She shifts Katya’s body to face her. “Kiss me! Kiss me! Kiss me!” Katya insists.
“A certifiable disaster.” And Alaska doesn’t know any better but to oblige. Again. And again. And again.
(Alaska catches Katya in the dressing room taking off the last of her lipstick. She removes her wig and settles herself on the seat beside Katya to remove her nails. She doesn’t know it but she’s making a face. That face. The things-didn’t-go-my-way-I-want-to-cry-and-I’m-about-to-throw-a-tantrum face.
Katya eyes her carefully. “Are you okay?” Alaska doesn’t respond and it makes Katya uneasy. Their friendship has definitely changed in the past few months. And Alaska has never been this quiet around her. Not since All Stars. “Alaska,” she calls out. Alaska’s brows are furrowed. “Justin,” Katya tries.
She looks up. She heard Katya the first time. And she definitely knows what Katya wants to know. She’s been in a sour mood the whole night. She wants to say something. She has just enough alcohol in her body to be able to feel things but sober enough to stop herself from doing or saying something stupid.
“Look,” Katya says as she put on her boy clothes. “You don’t have to tell me anything. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” All Katya gets is a nod. It’s vague. It doesn’t really mean anything. But she knows not to push it. She reminds Alaska that the van is ready to leave and tells her she’ll be outside to smoke.
Alaska quickly changes into her boy clothes, leaving her face to deal with later. She follows the rest of the queens to the parking lot where Katya has been waiting for them forever. She watches Katya take a long drag off her cigarette before calling out to her. “Kati.”
That must have sounded pathetic because Katya definitely knows something is wrong. It’s unfair, really, how Katya can see right through her. “Do you want to talk about it?”
She doesn’t want to talk about it. But she does, SHE DOES want to talk about it. “Kati,” she says slowly. She pauses. And Katya waits. Quite uncharacteristically patient and unmoving. “I need…” She takes a deep breath. “Please don’t make me say it out loud.”
Katya’s confused. She really doesn’t have patience for this right now. Alaska’s bad mood is contagious. “I’m not making you do anything, Alaska.”
Alaska thinks she would never have to tell Katya this. They’re friends, really great friends, and it’s amazing. Alaska even thinks she replaced Ginger as Katya’s best friend. She doesn’t know when it happened but this friendship, this warmth in her chest, is suddenly dense and heavy with feelings that she knows aren’t just for friends. It’s like Katya crawled her way into Alaska’s heart and made a home there. And tonight, Alaska is suddenly forced to open this floodgate. She is faced with the need to open herself to these feelings and just be true to herself. Because she really doesn’t need to see Katya flirting with everybody. She doesn’t need to see Katya STEALING. WILLAM’S. TRADE. In front of her. She doesn’t need that. Not when she’s already deep in this rabbit hole. Yes, Katya may not reciprocate. Because she never knows with Katya. And that’s not okay, she thinks. But it will be. It should be. They should be able to still remain friends.
It doesn’t help that Katya is just there, smoking her third cigarette, letting Alaska gather her thoughts. She’s quiet and Alaska isn’t used to a quiet Katya. Not when they’re around each other. “You really don’t have to tell me anything,” she repeats. “I can see that something’s bothering you but I won’t push. I can give you a hug if you need a hug or space if you need that.”
And Alaska knows that. But she has to get this off her chest. She looks Katya straight in the eyes. Katya senses that whatever Alaska wants to say is coming so she shifts her body to face her head on. “Kat — Brian.” She drops Alaska’s inflections. “You are the BEST human. Ever. And I like you way more than anybody, even myself. I really like you. You, Brian. And not just as a friend.” Alaska wants to stop but the words keep on coming. “If I don’t see you or talk to you, I get curious. I get worried. If you’re sad, I get upset. When you smile, when you laugh, it makes me happy. It drives me crazy. And maybe that’s bordering on love. I don’t know. But I really need you to stop flirting with everything that moves. Because I really want to kiss you. And I NEED you to like me back.”
Katya’s gathering her thoughts. She looks at Alaska skeptically as she stubs her cigarette. “Did you really mean that?”
Alaska looks a little offended. “You really think I’d pour my heart out like that if I didn’t mean it?”
Katya is silently looking at her. “THUNDERFUCKER!” This makes Alaska laugh. “I thought I was imagining things!” Katya shakes her head and turns to walk away but comes back quickly. “I’ve been trying to convince myself that there’s really nothing between us. That the shift in dynamic—“
But Alaska cuts her off. “This nothing has meant more to me than so many somethings.”
“Ha! You’ve Got Mail! You’re such a girl!” They both laugh. And it takes them a minute to calm down. Katya takes Alaska’s hand. “I really want to kiss you, too,” she confesses. But she doesn’t move. She’s letting Alaska take the lead.
Alaska raises a brow and takes a step forward. She’s just gathered enough courage to kiss Katya when the van door opens to show a very pissed off Willam. “Let’s go! We’ve been waiting for you bitches forever!” she screams before slamming the van door shut.)
Alaska wakes up with Katya draped over her. She’s awake but Alaska tries as hard as possible to sleep in for as long as possible. Traveling does take a toll on the body. And honestly, she can feel the age settling in. It’s difficult for them to sleep in. They’re just naturally early risers, despite the late nights. “I’m so happy you’re back,” Katya says as she kisses Alaska’s neck when she realizes she’s awake too.
There are things that Alaska are certain of — That she has a warm bed to fall into at night although it’s not her own on most nights. That she’s got enough money to keep her comfortable. That she has a caring and somewhat overbearing family. That she’s got friends and sister queens who redefine loyalty, who love her in ALL her forms — tantrums or otherwise.
And Katya. At one point, she didn’t know what to make of her. She remembers Tatianna commenting on All Stars that Katya is very quiet but also really out there. Everyone in the room agreed. Including her. She still thinks Katya is an amalgamation of contradictions. But there is something so sure, so solid, about her. About them.
Katya starts to get up but Alaska pulls her in closer, “Don’t move, you’re warm.” And there it is. The warmth. She just wants to bask in the light that came off Katya because it’s warm and it’s good and it’s enough. She doesn’t know what it’s like to be cold anymore.
