From The Ground Up, Chapter One (Rosnali) - Tanawrites
A/N: I’m so happy to be back in the swing of writing again and especially for this ship! I’m not sure how long a ride we’re in for here but I do know none of it would be possible without @chaoticnachokitten who is always the best brainstorming partner.
Summary: It wasn’t ever a choice between figure skating or Rosé; Denali knew she belonged on the ice and Rosé knew it too. So she left and didn’t ever look back. Five years passed and as medals, sponsorships, the Olympics all slipped from her grasp, Denali wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
or, what happens when an ex-professional figure skater returns to her hometown and navigates her way through the grief and uncertainty of her career and considers the road not taken.
read on ao3 here!
-
The first thing she noticed was the snow.
It had been years since Denali had been home to see the town square covered in a thick layer of white and the sight brought a sour taste to her mouth.
It used to be her favourite time of year when she was younger, before she knew any better. As well as hot cocoa and snowball fights, the first time she ever skated was wearing blue mittens, a knit beanie and watching her breath puff out in front of her in a white cloud of condensation.
For a long time, winter and skating went hand-in-hand for Denali. Every year it was a countdown for snow, waiting until the lake behind her house froze over and became her own personal rink.
It wasn’t until much later when the local ice arena took precedence as classes and daily training moulded her into a professional skate, that Denali realized snow didn’t count for much at all. Hot cocoa didn’t particularly fit into her strict macro-diet and regardless of the weather outside, it was always cold at the rink. The cold lost its magic and the holidays soon followed suit, when Denali prioritised training and competitions over flying home.
That only made it more ironic to her that it was snowing for her reluctant homecoming; the picturesque winterscape of a town that greeted her more mocking than nostalgic.
It wasn’t as comforting as Denali thought it would be, how familiar the town was. The main street was as if nothing had changed, if for a few new storefronts. She knew from her few visits home that if she didn’t look too closely, it looked exactly as it did when she left, further cementing that she was the only factor that had changed. That she was the piece that didn’t fit anymore, not the other way around.
The reminder of why she was home for her first Christmas in years was too much to unpack on the day she moved back to the small town she’d left behind, Denali shied away from any intrusive thoughts and took a detour from the main road.
Following the instructions from her speaker, Denali eventually pulled her car into an unfamiliar driveway, to a house she’d only seen before in pictures and cut the engine.
The front yard was unrecognisable under the snow but the driveway and small path had been shovelled recently, a silent sign her father had been by. The ‘welcome' mat was definitely all her mom though and Denali exhaled a sigh of relief.
She wasn’t sure if her parents were going to respect her request to arrive alone and without fuss so she was grateful to see they’d left her to her own devices, in their own way.
As excited as they were to have their only child back home, a few streets away was a vast improvement than a two-hour drive to the city, Denali couldn’t bring herself to match their enthusiasm. It was less of a joyous homecoming as it was striking out and crawling home, with no need for fanfare.
Her parents had been great but after months of doctors appointments and rehab, Denali felt stifled.
And no doubt, that wasn’t going to change any time soon.
Her parents and her coach had shielded her from the worst of the media while she recovered but the tabloids had nothing on small town gossip, as ruthless as it was rapid. Everyone would know she had moved back by the afternoon, if they didn’t already from when she’d signed her name on the lease and mailed it back weeks ago.
The house was nothing remarkable externally. It was in a newer part of town, an expansion of mostly apartment blocks and small houses, that took place after she’d already moved to the city. It was more modern than her parent’s house but still older compared to the studio loft she’d left behind.
But it was new and entirely her own and held no reminders of the life she’d had to leave behind, which is exactly what Denali needed.
There was a flyer from the moving company who had already been and gone, and she found the key under the mat as well to let herself in.
It was strange, seeing all her furniture in a house she’d never set foot in before but she shook the feeling and wandered between the boxes that were left haphazardly in the rooms that corresponded with her scrawled handwriting.
You’ll feel better when you can see your things, she told herself and set in to unpacking.
-
Despite the mountains of boxes, Denali got through the kitchen and the living room with ease.
Plates, mugs and cutlery were easy, methodical to find a place for. It was mindless but it kept her hands busy to stretch up on her tiptoes to reach the tallest cupboards and sort tupperware.
Putting away her books and photos required a little more attention, alphabetizing by author and lingering a little too long on the frames of her with her face pressed up against her coach or with the team of skaters she had trained with.
She stubbornly left the pictures on display, to prove a point to herself mostly, adjusting their positions on the side table more than necessary before she moved on. At least they were happy memories.
By the time she was tossing a throw blanket and cushions on the couch, she’d almost forgotten the vague reminder of where she was supposed to be right now. She’d gotten into a groove of unpacking, leaving traces of herself through the house, more than just furniture or decor.
Music played through her headphones as she pushed open the door to the only bedroom in the house, ignoring how tempting her bed looked even unmade.
She was more exhausted than she cared to admit to even herself.
Her knee felt stiff from kneeling in front of boxes for hours and leaving the key behind to her apartment felt a lot less like saying goodbye to the city and a lot like giving up on something she wasn’t ready to, something that was beyond her control. She was pushing through the exhaustion and discomfort, motivated that the more her the new house felt, the easier it would be.
She was eager to get through the brute of the unpacking anyway, knowing she was expected at dinner with her parents that night as a trade-off for her seclusion today and if she admitted to not having much done, tomorrow she’d have both her mom and dad knocking on her door to help.
She reached for the closest box, slicing through the tape and ripping it open. It had only been labeled with her name in somebody else’s neat handwriting and as her eyes caught the glint of the blades dance as it caught the overhead light, she realized why.
Her hands froze over the box, hovering uselessly for a few moments before she flinched back, like she’d been burned.
In her haste, she dropped the pair of scissors she’d used to open the box and bent to pick them up, mumbling a curse to herself under her breath.
Her skates.
Packed neatly on top of her collection of trophies and medallions and even a few sports magazines she’d been featured in, were her current pair of skates. The laces of both skates were tied in a neat bow, guards covering the silver blades.
Somebody else had packed this box, that much she knew. She’d merely shrugged when her mom asked her what she wanted to do with all this stuff and hadn’t waited around to see how that was interpreted.
As she looked at the flawless white leather, she couldn’t help but be bitter. They looked exactly as she remembered, they were perfect and she was pissed. There was no indication that anything had ever happened, completely untarnished. Nothing like the uneven scar across her knee that she’d been promised would fade with time.
Before she could stop herself, Denali reached for the box again, idly toying with the laces.
It had been nearly a year now since the last time she’d worn them.
She’d been a favourite going into the competition and aside from a few pre-competition jitters, Denali was quietly confident.
She knew her routine like the back of her hand and even though it was the qualifying competition, she hadn’t been worried.
She felt that way right up until it happened. She’d been landing her jumps, she was completely on beat with the music, everything was happening the way it was supposed to.
Until it wasn’t.
The last thing anybody was expecting, least of all Denali, was her skate to skim across the ice erratically, beyond her control, her misplaced landing ending with an ear-splitting pop.
Everything had gone silent after that.
She could feel her chest heaving, struggling to catch the breath that was knocked out of her from the impact of hitting the ice but she couldn’t hear a thing.
Not her own sobs, not the all too familiar song she’d practised to for months still playing over the speakers or the gasps of the crowd. Not even the EMTs as they spoke to her while carefully lifting her onto a stretcher, her knee bent awkwardly and swollen through her tights.
In the days following, when doctors approached her with “irreversible damage” and “career-ending injury” which was endlessly repeated by her parents, her coach and worst of all, the media, Denali wished for the silence again.
Now fully recovered, or as recovered as she could ever be, her dreams of gold medals and the Olympics nothing but a faint memory, Denali wanted to scream. She settled for throwing the box into the closet with a loud thump and an even louder slam of the bedroom door as she stormed out.
She grabbed her keys from the kitchen counter and was pulling out of the driveway again a few minutes later.
She didn’t know where she was going, definitely not to see her parents but anywhere but here sounded like a good option so she drove.
She drove around town twice before pulling up in the parking lot of the one place she’d purposely avoided on her drive in this morning.
The rink.
-
The first time Denali skated at the ice arena, she was seven.
After spending years skating on the lake, she begged for proper lessons at the ice rink.
Her eager hands pushed away her father’s helpful grip, demanding to tie the laces of the rental skates herself. They were scuffed and very obviously well-worn before she had insisted on them, instead of her own skates from home.
She’d bounced in excitement waiting by the boards for her turn, the skates feeling comfortable and familiar on her feet which couldn’t be said about the rest of the group in the beginners class.
She had stepped out with shaky balance as she adjusted to the shift onto the ice, shoulders squared in a silent dare that anybody attempt to steady her, her parents or an overly eager instructor who was a few feet away.
It took her two laps around the rink and a near fall before she let go of the barrier, unused to the ice being quite so smooth.
For a few moments, her hand had hovered over the rail, uncertain. When she didn’t falter, she started to laugh. Whole-hearted giggles as she gained speed, her confidence grew when she drifted further away from the perimeter of the rink, arms spread out beside her to keep her balance.
It felt like flying.
At the time, she didn’t notice all the eyes on her. The instructor watched on dubiously, her parents equally as surprised but mostly proud and the group of kids her own age an equal mix of jealousy and wide-eyed awe.
She was seven and she had no idea that this was how she would spend the next fifteen years of her life.
Or, that it would eventually become her downfall.
-
The outside of the arena, while it remained unchanged since Denali was there last, wasn’t as inviting as she remembered.
In fact, the dull brick building was lacking…something.
Maybe it was just her, and she knew exactly what she was lacking.
She passed by a bored teenager at the front counter who merely waved Denali through, without offering her any rental skates or asking for an admission fee. It was midday in the middle of the week so she hadn’t expected anybody to be on the ice but she didn’t expect it to be that easy.
It initially struck her as odd but she continued through regardless, tightening her thin jacket across her torso. In her haste she’d forgotten her coat and she was already feeling the cold from the ice before she could even see it.
She continued down the hallway, familiar signs and posters lining the way. In the years since she’d trained here, she swore none of them had been updated. The pricing signs, the motivational posters all remained, fraying at the edges the same way they had for a decade.
That was why her own smiling face brought her to a complete stop.
At the end of the hallway, were two side-by-side framed images of her. One was as a child, in her first ever competition in this very rink with a small gold trophy in her hands. The other was more recent, only a few years ago, from the other side of the country. She held a bouquet and stood on the top of the podium, a gold medallion around her neck. There was a plaque that Denali didn’t bother to read but she got the gist.
And now she understood why she’d been let in so easily.
She knew her mom would have definitely provided both photos and before her accident, Denali had no problem being a hometown hero. Being in the limelight whenever she managed a trip home had been welcome, it was a lot easier to be known as a nationally acclaimed athlete who couldn’t get home for the holidays than someone who’d had everything, then lost it all.
Denali breathed out a sigh as she rounded the corner to the rink, comforted at least by the fact that she was alone.
The ice was smooth, like it had been resurfaced only recently and Denali could do nothing but stare as she rested her arms on the boards and leaned forward.
The gleaming white ice wasn’t just pristine. It was tempting.
She’d been cleared for weeks now. Her surgery was considered a success, she had officially made a full recovery. A long, painstaking recovery of regaining the confidence to even stand with any weight on the leg that had collapsed under her and months of rest before that. It was a full recovery nonetheless, unfortunately “full recovery” from a torn ACL didn’t allow for the demands of a professional figure skater.
Laps around the ice didn’t entertain her nearly as much as they did when she was younger so Denali had resigned herself to the fact that she hadn’t just retired from her career, she had retired from the rink completely.
She didn’t know if she’d ever be able to bring herself to put a pair of skates on again, even if she tried.
The ice called to her, it always had but it was more than that.
The competition did too. The more she skated, the more she loved it. The better she got, the harder she worked.
Denali knew early on that she had it. The drive, the ability and the talent but more than any of that, she had the want. She wanted to be the best and to do that, she had to beat the best.
It hadn’t come without sacrifices as well. She never went to her high school prom, she didn’t even walk at her own graduation. She’d given up the majority of her freedom for the entirety of her high school years for the benefit of her sport. She kissed her family goodbye a week after receiving her diploma in the mail, the city closer to her coaches and the airport.
But she didn’t look back.
It was never even a choice for her, never an option between A and B. By the time conversations shifted to Worlds and the Grand Prix and sponsorship deals, Denali knew she wanted to take the gold.
Returning to this rink, knowing that none of that was hers anymore, felt like a cruel twist of fate. She could practically taste the win, and could almost feel the cool touch of the medal against her chest before it disappeared in the blink of an eye.
Her initial rage had faded, re-learning how to walk had forced it, simmered down to a heavy grief.
It wasn’t as easy to bear, the blind rage at least had a release. The shatter of her phone against the brick wall of the hospital, the endurance she pushed herself to test during rehab, a guttural scream when she was finally able to straighten her leg again amongst the happy cheers of her nurses.
The grief crept in slowly, mourning not only her career but her entire life. Skating had woven its way into every crevice of Denali’s everyday and its missing presence was distinct. It wasn’t just about figuring out what she was going to do now, it was figuring out who she was without skating.
Before she did something stupid, like rent a pair of skates or tear the picture of herself down off the wall, Denali turned to leave, figuring it had been enough reminiscing (torture) for one day.
Without even taking a step forward, Denali froze. The sight of someone a few feet in front of her drew her out of her thoughts, apparently too deep in her head to have heard any footsteps behind her.
She didn’t need to do a double-take, she knew who was standing in front of her.
All long legs, a wide smile and auburn hair that Denali had helped dye a pale pink too many times to count, she knew exactly who it was.
Summary - part of the Summer Lovin’ challenge for the prompt bathing suit. What might have happened if Bianca and Adore were paired up for the swimsuit challenge in season 6.
A/N - I’ve just done another rewatch of my absolute fav season of Drag Race (thanks corona for all the spare time I’ve had) and I’m just honestly obsessed with these two. I couldn’t help but be inspired by some of my favourite of their moments and the idea of them being friends early on!
“I want you to pair up with a queen who was not in your original group."
Now it made sense to Roy the way the production team had carefully arranged them in the workroom that morning. A glance to either side of him was enough to confirm, the lineup was alternating the queens from the two groups and from the expecting grin on RuPaul’s face, it was intended to throw them off.
Some of the pairings made sounds of approval, a few air kisses exchanged and the clasp of hands.
He turned to his right and came face-to-face with one of the younger queens. Not his first choice but it wasn’t really Danny’s fault in particular. Roy was bound to be doubtful of any of the queens he hadn’t worked with yet - it was in his nature to question everybody until he saw for himself what they could do. Especially when his success was relying partly on them as well.
Responding to Danny’s exaggerated look of hesitancy as he stepped closer to affirm them as a team, Roy sideyed Danny. He looked him up and down once before turning back to listen to their rest of their instructions, figuring that would be enough for the cameras. He just hoped it would be used as a foreshadowing in the edit because their unlikely pairing had won them the challenge rather than the alternative.
“…combine bodies to create one lip syncing, bikini wearing bathing beauty.”
Despite Roy’s uncertainty about his partner, he was amused by the challenge. It sure as hell beat trying to look sexy with feathers stuck to Bianca’s lipstick. At least he could bring humour into this.
“Go!”
Once the initial rush of twelve grown men shoving and grabbing for their choice of swimwear, which was about as pleasant as it sounded, Roy took his findings back to his station.
He’d managed to snag a one-piece bathing suit and a sheer cover-up - neither of which he would have had in the suitcases he’d packed, hardly something Bianca would ever perform in. After rifling through one of his bags, he pulled out a floppy hat and large flower that he could pin on his front to hide the fact that he wouldn’t have time to fashion Bianca’s usual chest.
Quick drag was never something he chose to do - not when he painted Bianca’s face the way he did or with how precise he liked his drag to be. Always tucked neat and tightly, Bianca’s curves cinched and padded to the now familiar figure, never a hair out of place or signature bold makeup smudged.
Before he got started on the transition into Bianca, his eyes sought out another’s from across the room. Once Danny met his gaze, Roy tilted his head slightly in invitation.
“So just based on first impressions, you don’t exactly strike me as a top, queen.”
Before his words could leave a sting, Roy was continuing, gesturing to Danny as he spoke now that he was standing in front of him.
“Plus, we can do a lot more with those legs than my stumps. Work for you?”
Danny nodded, seemingly either too startled or intimidated by Roy’s unquestionable authority to verbally respond. It wasn’t personal, nor intended to be rude on Roy’s behalf. He was used to a time crunch, not usually as pressing as this one but he was a hit the ground running kind of person to begin with.
It seemed though that Danny wasn’t totally acting for the cameras earlier if his current apprehension was anything to go off. Roy wasn’t heartless though, no one should be scared of him, so he dropped his voice a little and relaxed his position from where he had tensed from the urgency of the challenge.
“Great, do what you need to do and meet me back here so we can plan something out? It’s going to take the rest of these bitches that long just to get made up.”
“Party.”
Settling for a roll of his eyes and stubbornly denying the small tug at the corners of his lips at the response, Roy got to work as Danny left his station grinning. It was easier to work together if Danny wasn’t too busy tiptoeing around him, Roy told himself.
Just as Bianca pulled her bangs into the right position and secured them with a pin, Adore was sidling up to her chair, steeled with a new confidence.
“So, I have an idea.”
-
After Danny’s initial panic about working with Roy, the queen already having a reputation for reading their fellow competitors to filth, there came the panic of the challenge.
Adore barely tucked on a good day, let alone well enough to have her crotch on full display.
It was a partner challenge though and after Roy had taken the reins on their team, Danny knew there were expectations for him to meet for someone other than himself now. He only partially understood the reputation proceeding Bianca. She was sharp-tongued there was no doubt about it but who could blame a bitch for being blunt?
He’d approached Roy at Bianca’s station with a hint of hesitancy but walked away optimistic. More importantly, he walked away with a clear head.
Known for being eccentric and impulsive in his behaviour, Danny found it hard to stay focused. Determined, yes but organising all his creative thoughts was something he struggled with. Roy’s assertiveness had allowed Danny to direct his attention without any of the struggle.
Sharing a grin with Laganja in their shared work space, he ignored the way Laganja was trying to catch his gaze. It would no doubt be about his pairing, Laganja whispering in Adore’s ear just yesterday about how scary Bianca seemed after the warning snapped at Gia almost as soon as they’d met. Danny didn’t have the time right now though, almost able to hear seconds ticking away from them before they had to be ready.
Never one to be shy, Danny dropped his pants and reached for his rarely used tape and got to work. He could hear everyone else working in a fluster around him and usually, he would be the kind to be poking his head around and cracking jokes. It was their first challenge as a full group and he wanted to make an impression on Ru and the other queens.
Once he was tucked, tighter than he had been in a long time, he reached for the swimsuit. Danny had grabbed a bright matching bikini and pulled on the bottoms, making sure he looked as flat as he could down there. After a moment of hesitation, he grinned and put the top on as well, covering his flat chest and tugging a crop top on over the top. It wasn’t like anybody was going to see his top half during the challenge but it was very on brand for Adore.
Grateful he’d recently shaved his legs and painted his toes, he slipped his feet into strappy heels that he had to lace a little up his calves. It didn’t totally make sense for a beach but after a glance over at Bianca and her outfit, he decided it matched enough for what he had in mind for their performance.
Grabbing a heart shaped pair of glasses that were left on the table of offerings, Adore grinned and continued on to Bianca’s work space.
“So I have an idea.” She held out the glasses. “And I thought these might save you some time.”
-
Standing next to Adore as they waited for their turn, Bianca laughed at Courtney and Laganja’s rehearsed joke. Once they were motioned for their tone, she took the towels from a member of the pit crew and led their way into the sandpit.
She let Adore lay down first, watching as she shifted around in discomfort. She was expecting it though, having watched a few more pairs go before them.
“Here.” She folded up one of the towels and handed it over to Adore who looked cluelessly up at her. “Use it as a pillow, fuck getting sand in your ass and your hair.”
Once Adore laid back seemingly more comfortably, Bianca moved into position but glanced back before she lowered herself to sit on Adore’s stomach.
“Alright back there?”
“I’m good.”
Bianca nodded and lowered onto her knees, supporting her weight entirely on her legs with her legs spread as wide as she could so Adore had enough room for movement.
“Still good?”
She watched Adore hesitate for a moment before shuffling down a little more and reaching for Bianca’s hips, assuring her hands would be out of the sight for those looking front on.
“For leverage, so I can move my body.”
Adore’s explanation was drawn out in a tone Bianca couldn’t quite put her finger on who it was an impression of but she chuckled nonetheless before taking it as confirmation that they were ready and she could settle the rest of the towels around them. Once she was satisfied they were fitting the illusion, she was nodding that they were ready to start the song.
-
“And the winners of the mini challenge are…Adore and Bianca!”
Bianca let Adore press against her side for their victory shot, her arm raising to wrap around Adore’s shoulders for a quick squeeze as they shared an equally surprised and pleased look.
Their win had come slightly as a shock. They had done well but after watching Courtney’s facial expressions and the man-handling of Laganja’s legs which was hilarious, Bianca’s confidence in her own pairing had lessened. Apparently Bianca’s comedic take on Adore’s burlesque style show with her legs had bumped them over though and she certainly wasn’t complaining.
She wasn’t expecting Adore to return to her station so quickly or with specific ideas for their lip sync. The sunglasses had been a save as well, allowing them an extra five minutes of planning out their performance which was another tick for Adore in Bianca’s mental checklist. Overall, she had been impressed.
Their victory didn’t last long though because soon enough they were separated and picking queens for teams to work against one another as captains for the maxi challenge.
-
“So would you pick from the other team to work with?”
“Bianca.”
Adore didn’t have to think twice before answering the question directed to her once they were in the untucked lounge. She hadn’t gone well in the filming challenge, far too in her own head to concentrate on her lines. She’d bombed the runway as well, getting more critiques than compliments on her look. It had shaken her confidence and she was embarrassed, especially after winning the mini challenge with Bianca earlier that day.
Working with Bianca was a stark contrast than how the group challenge had gone. Having to follow a script had limited Adore’s creative ability and she felt stifled in her group, relying on all of them and none of them all at once.
She had no qualms about repeating her answer when the rest of the group joined them as well, asking what they’d missed out on.
“DeLa asked me who I’d want to work with from the other queens and I said you.”
“Wait, what’s your name again?”
Said with no bite, Adore laughed around her cocktail at Bianca’s response. Most of the other queens looked surprised but Courtney laughed as well, clearly seeing through Bianca’s tone or simply enjoying it enough that she didn’t care if it was said in jest or not.
Adore hadn’t been in good spirits since the runway, trapped in her own thoughts that were desperately battling against the voices in her head that were repeating the judges critiques, her own saying that she wasn’t good enough, the other queens from her group saying her leadership landed in the bottom. The rest of the group, Bianca especially who always seemed to radiate an authority over the room, was a welcome distraction.
“Like yeah she’s a bitch but she’s helpful as well. We killed the rest of you in the mini challenge and even though we’re both really big personalities and I thought we’d clash, it ended up working for us.”
Adore shrugged but she caught the rare smile Bianca sent her way before her expression changed, guarded again against the rest of their competitors.
“I’d choose Adore too if we had to pick someone to work with again.” Bianca pursed her lips before continuing. “I’d make out with her over Courtney again any day.”
After the expected returning quip from Courtney, the conversation shifted and Adore was grateful to take a backseat from the centre of attention. It was the first real challenge, against all the girls and she had disappointed herself. Her mind was racing again, self doubt rising up and forming a lump in her throat.
She had tuned out of the conversation so much so that only the couch dipping beside her as the rest of the queens stood up around her broke her from her thoughts. She mumbled a distracted ‘thanks’ to who was holding the curtain back for everyone before her but faltered when a black nailed hand curled around her arm and pulled her to a stop.
Face to face with Bianca, Adore swallowed thickly and let a small grin curl her lips.
“You trying to make out with me now? Because I don’t really think we have time.”
She was pleased to hear Bianca laugh as Adore referenced her earlier joke, quieter than her usual cackles but it felt even more genuine somehow.
“I just wanted to say not to take it too hard, kid.”
Adore considered arguing back, holding up a stronger front against someone who was supposed to be her competition. Someone who was her biggest competition especially.
It didn’t seem to be worth it though, not when Bianca had already seen straight through her. Not when Adore felt Bianca’s gaze on the side of her face rather than the screen as they watched their teams movies and her jaw was tight as she tried to shield how embarrassed she was on the runway.
“I…thanks Bianca.”
“Come on, let’s go see what these queens pull out their asses. Think Vivacious will attempt a death drop?”
Adore’s laughter followed them down the hallway, Bianca’s arm around her shoulders and her own around Bianca’s slim waist as they walked together and Adore felt lucky. Lucky that she seemed to have a friend, other than Laganja who seemed off and unrecognisable, and lucky that she had seemingly evaded Hurricane Bianca, for whatever reason Adore didn’t dare to question.
From The Ground Up, Chapter Two (Rosnali) - Tanawrites
A/N: so 1. I’m updating this so much sooner than I expected myself to and 2. thanks so much to everybody who read the first instalment! you can read chapter one here or on ao3 here
Chapter Summary: Denali comes face-to-face with Rosé after years apart.
-
“Rosie?”
For just a moment, she was seventeen again and love lived right down the street from her. Sleepovers and lockers right next to one another, the mess of pink hair spread across her pillow and fighting a sleepy smile. Rosé’s hand reaching for her as soon as she stepped off the ice at a competition to pull her in for a hug. The feel of mittened-covered hands holding her cheeks as they kissed under the bleachers.
“I thought I’d find you here.”
Oh.
And then she’d left Rosé behind.
It was an image she’d never forget, waving to Rosé from the back of her parent’s car. They’d already said their goodbyes so they’d left it with a tight hug, a kiss pressed silently to the top of her head before Rosé stepped out of the embrace. There was nothing to be said that would have made Denali stay but the ache in the wake of Rosé was instant.
Her initial move to the city had been hard. She was barely eighteen and it was far from the familiarity of her hometown or childhood bedroom. She saw her coach more than she saw her parents or any semblance of friends she’d managed to hold onto around her busy schedule. She was young and alone and couldn’t enjoy any of the new independence because she spent all her time at the rink.
It had taken a long time to get used to phone calls and FaceTime when they’d lived three houses down from each other since freshman year, a tiny screen could hardly compare. It had taken even longer to adjust to the shift in their relationship.
Their first call after she left was… different. Denali let the phone ring out three times before she picked up. Ros é didn’t even say hello, she rushed into a speech she’d obviously been mulling over for a while. Denali sat on the balcony of her new apartment listening to Ros é for what felt like an hour before she could get a word in and agree yeah, they could do this friendship thing.
Even as time went on and their calls were few and far between, Denali always picked up the phone and every time, it was like no time had passed. Rosé still made her laugh like nobody else, knew Denali like the back of her hand and she never mentioned it when six months had passed between their last call. It was a patient understanding that nobody else had for Denali’s gruelling schedule, picking up right wherever they had left off. She missed Rosé and Rosé missed her but things couldn’t be that simple.
Their conversations over the years had veered around certain topics, never including anything about dating or hook-ups, instant forgiveness when one of them forgot the name of a friend they’d swore they’d mentioned last time, no apologies needed for missed birthdays or Christmas. And they never talked about Denali’s decision to leave.
It was them but kept an arm’s length away. It was a desperate attempt to stay in each other’s lives as best they could, living not just in two different towns but two entirely different worlds.
Denali had never questioned why Rosé had initiated that kind of friendship, with no expectations or consistency but it had worked the past five years. She’d gotten to keep the one person who always understood her, who made her laugh and took her mind off the pressure of her sport.
That last conversation was fresh in her mind, it wasn’t long after the accident where Denali was down in spirits and high on pain medication. She’d ended the conversations by telling Rosé she was coming home and it had been months since she’d heard from the other end of the line ‘see you soon, baby’ .
She couldn’t deny now though that Rosé, standing a mere two feet away, was just as tempting than the ice.
It felt the exact same way through; something she wanted but knew she couldn’t have anymore. That wasn’t hers.
Rosé smiled and Denali felt it all the way to her toes.
She was rusty, clearly out of practise from the way heat rushed to her face and exploded in her chest at the sound of Rosé’s voice. It had been a while since they’d spoken on the phone last and even longer since she’d seen Rosé standing in front her, years even.
They’d stayed true to it all these years and Denali could keep herself in check. Moving back home had never been a part of her plans so before she’d the accident, she’d never considered what it would mean for them . The past few months, she’d done nothing but think of it. She always came to the same conclusion though.
It had been five years.
The notion that Rosé even thought about them like that anymore was almost laughable.
They’d had one agreement and even as reckless, stupid, clueless teenagers they had stuck to it. Denali wouldn’t ask her to wait if Rosé didn’t ask her to stay.
Logically, she knew that meant Rosé could and should have moved on, regardless whether Denali had or not.
But underneath all the confusion and overthinking, Denali was painfully aware of one thing.
Her best friend was standing right in front of her.
All it took was a tilted head and a tentative step in her direction pulled her from the thoughts, as well as a firm reminder to herself. That’s enough.
Her reminiscing came to an abrupt halt as she took in Rosé with steeled shoulders but a soft smile, a confidence that had grown since she’d seen her last but the same playful look in her eyes from when they were just kids.
She cut off the joke Rosé was making at her expense by crossing the now small distance between them to catch her in a hug.
“Woah.” Rosé took a step back to catch herself, surprised by the force of the hug but Denali didn’t relent at all. “I missed you too, D.”
It was such a Rosé thing to assume, cocky even through her quiet, reserved tone and if her throat wasn’t growing thick with emotion, Denali would have said as much.
(It only annoyed her so much because more often than not, Rosé was right.)
While it had never been part of her plan and the reason why was too raw for Denali to exactly feel happy about being in the same town again, there was a weight lifted that she didn’t even realize she’d been carrying.
Denali couldn’t deny that deep under the grief and the turmoil at returning home, there was a different kind of anticipation low in her stomach. It wasn’t as unpleasant as her worry but it still had her up at night for weeks. Now, she knew it had been reserved specifically for Rosé.
Despite their sad ending and how long it had taken Denali to recover from it, there was something to be said about the person who to this day, knew her best.
Before it got too emotional and Rosé actually got concerned, Denali swallowed it down and took a step back. She stayed close though, holding onto both of Rosé’s arms and making a show of rolling her eyes.
“You’re stupid.”
“And you’re here.”
“Yeah, I am.”
A beat passed and the moment was beginning to grow heavy for an entirely different reason, Denali shifting her weight between both legs, a silent reminder.
And just like it had always been, it was like Rosé could actually read her mind (or at least knew her well enough to know when Denali was starting to close in on herself) and she gripped tight on Denali’s elbows to lean in.
“Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news on your first day back…” It was whispered into her ear, Rosé’s curly hair brushing against the swell of her cheek. It was close enough that she could feel the all-too familiar teasing smile as it started. “I think you have a fan.”
Her head turned just enough to glance back to the ice, briefly forgotten behind her, to see a teenager in a staff shirt who was blushing up past his ears and pointedly looking away from them.
Then she was laughing. Turning back to Rosé and shaking her head, holding on tight to her as she let herself relish in the presence of her best friend again.
-
After Rosé complained about the cold and Denali was reminded with a shiver of her own, they moved to the stands. That came with its own wave of memories. Images flashed through her mind of Rosé awkwardly bent over the benches doing homework while Denali practised on the ice or cheering her during a competition.
This was good too though.
She wasn’t delusional, she knew their sporadic calls over the years were only a glimpse into their lives, but as they started talking she realized there were five years they needed to catch up on. Five years that she’d missed.
There were stories from Rosé’s brief stint at the community college in the next town over and anecdotes about people in town that Denali had forgotten entirely about that had her in stitches, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes.
She enjoyed them as much as she did the mundane updates though, learning about where Rosé worked and lived.
She reached over to squeeze her hand when Rosé delved into the story about her parents. Denali knew about the car accident and had sent flowers to the funeral home but she’d only heard in passing about Rosé’s mom returning home to Scotland shortly following. It ignited a rush of anger in Denali, who could leave their child after they’d just lost their father?
But she was glad she hadn’t vocalized it when guilt soon followed. She was in no place to judge anybody for leaving. There was an apology on the tip of her tongue but Denali bit it back, it wasn’t the time to bring up that aspect of their past and she didn’t even know if Rosé would want to hear it.
The somber mood didn’t remain for long though, Rosé shrugging it off with a strength Denali knew hadn’t always been quite so unwavering and maybe unwarrantably, she felt a surge of pride.
The conversation didn’t sway in her direction too much, which was a relief.
She spoke up a few times, about when the people she’d trained with turned friends had dragged her out to celebrate and the coach that Rosé knew from when they were teenagers but it was too slippery a slope to talk about competitions or skating. She couldn’t talk about it yet. Not without mentioning how much it hurt, not without inviting the pain back up to the surface when she spent every day trying to swallow it down.
If she could count on Rosé for anything though, talking was high up on the list.
And she didn’t want to take away from this. There wasn’t a silent moment, every time their laughter faded to quiet again, Rosé would remember something else that hadn’t made the cut during their FaceTimes and the cycle would start all over again. She could see the question on Rosé’s lips more than once though and it seemed to be unspoken that it was off limits. Denali couldn’t take the poorly suppressed expressions of pity that everybody seemed to look at her with since it happened. From Rosé, she could only imagine it would feel a hundred times worse.
For now, it was refreshing to think entirely about something else for longer than a few minutes. The past year had been talking about her next doctor’s appointment, the upcoming move, how her recovery was going, with moments few and far between where Denali could focus on anything else.
She swore every new name and detail to memory as best she could as it came up in conversation, especially at the insistence that she meet all Rosé’s friends.
It wasn’t until her phone buzzed in her jacket pocket that Denali was brought back to the present. She wasn’t even aware of her surroundings, kids in oversized hockey jerseys had started to trickle into the rink without her realizing and she’d forgotten entirely why she was even here. The confrontation of seeing her skates and the exhaustion of the move had faded to the back of her mind but now as Rosé ushered her to answer the text, it brought back a weight to her shoulders.
Denali skimmed the text quickly, her mom reminding her of dinner but what really caught her eye was the time, blinking unapologetically at her on the screen.
“Oh my god.”
“What’s wrong?”
She turned her phone around instead of responding, watching Rosé’s expression shift to mirror her own as she realized how much time had passed. They’d been talking for hours.
“Whoops. Guess you’ve got somewhere to be?”
Denali grimaced, an apology on her lips that matched the reluctance she still felt about going to her parents for dinner but Rosé waved her off before she’d had a chance to say it.
“Don’t worry, I’m late for work too. But to be continued?”
“To be continued.”
Denali made the promise with ease. Talking with Rosé was the most she’d felt in a long time and without looking too deeply into it, she was grateful.
There was a time Denali didn’t know if she could even think about Rosé without feeling the absence of something more . She didn’t know if Rosé could look at her without being reminded of the choice Denali had made all those years ago.
She dared to think that underneath all that, they were what was left. Two people who knew each other, maybe a little too well or maybe just enough.
“Tomorrow night? A few of us are driving out for a gig and you should come.”
A few? Denali raised an eyebrow in silent question. She’d heard about a handful of Rosé’s friends over the past few hours, some names she’d recognised from high school and others entirely unfamiliar. It was a lot of people for someone who’d planned on hiding out for at least the next few weeks.
It was sending her stomach into flips but after one glance at Rosé’s expression, open and waiting, Denali had no choice.
“Sure, what time do I need to be ready?”
“Text me your address, I’ll pick you up.”
Denali accepted the hand that was extended to her and appreciated the squeeze Rosé gave her before letting go as they descended the stands.
“So, you were just driving around town looking for me?”
“Didn’t need to.”
The confidence in Rosé’s tone shut Denali up, her own teasing lilt simmered down to a smile.
Their arms bumped against each other as they walked and Denali was reminded of the years behind them of being attached at the hip. A part of her felt like it was yesterday but there was enough to keep her in the present, Rosé’s natural hair high on the list, as well as the visible dusting of freckles across her nose that were once covered up almost constantly.
“You-”
“Denali!”
A voice from the other end of the hallway brought Denali right out of her Rosé-bubble but before she had a chance to wince at the thought of bumping into anybody else, she was grinning.
“Liv!”
She met Olivia halfway, easily accepting the hug that was offered to her with wide, extended arms. She felt Olivia waving over her shoulder and Rosé’s resounding greeting.
There was a familiarity about Olivia, not on the same level as Rosé but welcome nonetheless. Olivia had been in the same beginners skating class as Denali, in fact Olivia’s parents had owned the ice arena so she was at the rink even more than Denali. They’d become fast friends as kids, even though Olivia’s skating career had started and ended with that first class.
“I heard your parents had retired but I didn’t think you’d be here.”
“I wasn’t going to but they really didn’t want to sell so I took it over…but hey! You look so good!”
It was a misplaced compliment but Denali knew it came from a good place in Olivia, plus there wasn’t really a polite way to say welcome home or glad to have you back in her circumstance.
“You do too, Liv.” Denali meant it - at least in the sense that it was good to see her too. Olivia had graduated at the top of their class, had been in every musical and performance the school put on but it had never gone to her head. To this day, Denali didn’t think she’d met someone as effortlessly kind as Olivia had always been and utterly herself in the process.
They’d kept in contact over the years, Olivia’s parents always sending a card or letter whenever she added another medal to her collection and Olivia had even spent a weekend up with Denali in the city.
“I’ve been meaning to call you ever since your mom told me you were coming back,” Before Denali had the chance to roll her eyes over her parent’s blabbing, Olivia continued, “She said you might be interested in teaching a class or two!”
Denali’s heart sunk.
Despite knowing that there were good intentions all around, her mom for wanting her to keep a door open to the skating world and Olivia for wanting her back at the rink where it all started, she wanted to scream.
Or run away.
Her heel had turned to do exactly that when she stopped.
It wasn’t Olivia’s blissfully oblivious hopeful expression or the inevitable guilt she’d feel later ( much later) but Rosé’s hand coming to rest on her shoulder. Grounding her and dissipating some of the pure panic that had coursed through her body.
“Oh Olivia, I don’t think so.” Denali shook her head and gestured vaguely in the direction of her knee, before her hand fell slack against her side. “Sorry, I’m just…not up for it.”
It was a cheap ploy to use the injury trick and Denali might have felt guilty if Olivia didn’t immediately snatch up her hand to clutch against her chest, waving the other one dismissively.
“Of course, forget I mentioned it. You’ll have to stop by again anyway and see what I’ve done with mom and dad’s old office, remember that horrible wallpaper they had?”
Then it was forgotten, at least by Olivia and Denali could breathe. Denali accepted another hug goodbye, noting that Rosé’s grip only loosened when she stepped out of it and then they were out of the rink.
It wasn’t until they were at her car that she dared a glance at Rosé and she almost regretted it.
There was that look. The one that wanted to ask Denali if she was okay, that was equal parts fiercely protective and concerned as she was when they were in high school and Denali was failing math because she was never there enough to understand it or when she wasn’t sleeping because she was trying to learn a new hard jump on the ice.
It was something Denali couldn’t deal with right now.
“So, I’ll text you my address?”
It wasn’t quite as blunt as I-don’t-want-to-talk-about-it but the sentiment remained and Denali could practically see the argument Rosé was having with herself over whether it was worth pushing it or not.
“Yeah. I’ll be there at seven.”
She breathed a silent sigh of relief and fumbled in her pocket for her keys. Before she had the chance to click unlock, there was a finger hooked under her chin to bring her gaze back up.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Denali.”
There it was. Something she hadn’t heard in years. Something to look forward to.
Rosé didn’t give her a chance to respond - luckily, since Denali’s brain took a few seconds to process, before she was crossing the lot to her own car, a truck that Denali faintly remembered parked outside Rosé’s house when they were kids. Her father’s.
With flushed cheeks she opened her door and started the car, reaching for the heating immediately.
For a second she considered a few excuses that could get her out of the dinner but eventually, pulled out of the car lot in the direction of her parents house with a groan.
Summary - Bianca is scared but maybe love is just two idiots who don’t know a damn thing except that they’re willing to figure it out together.
A/N - back this time with something a little different, I hope you like it. I’d also like to send a lot of love and support to all the writers in this fandom and particularly those who’ve been affected by some recent developments, what you do is appreciated and respected and I hope you can find inspiration and peace soon. Big thanks to @chaoticnachokitten who beta'd for me as well!
-
They don’t talk about it. It’s been six months of neither of them acknowledging this thing happening between them. It was hard to believe with Bianca’s blunt approach to everything, unfiltered and honest and Adore’s habit of blurting out whatever it was that she was thinking, never stopping to consider the consequences. When it came to this though, when it came to them, had radio silence even from Adore.
It happened slowly. Flirting as they leaned up against the bar, eyeing each other as Bianca watched Adore perform, eventually approaching Adore and offering to buy her a drink. Drunken hookups and texting until they could see each other again. It hadn’t been conventional but it had started harmless enough. A mutual attraction, sex whenever they felt like it, no strings attached.
Somewhere along the way, late nights after Adore finished her set turned into lazy Sunday afternoons doing laundry together since so much of Adore’s was mixed with Bianca’s anyway and Bianca “educating” Adore on old TV shows she hadn’t seen.
They still didn’t talk about it. There were no labels for their relationship and for all intents and purposes, what they did was supposed to be casual. No strings attached was fine until they started to get tangled.
Bianca had brushed it off, ignoring the nagging voice in the back of her mind that screamed too close too much. If they didn’t talk about it, she didn’t have to admit to herself just how deeply their lives had intertwined. How Adore hadn’t just snuck her way in but how she had barrelled through Bianca’s long-standing walls and that even if she hadn’t, Bianca might have just been readily handing over the key.
Adore had seemed willing and ready to come along for the ride, there had been no stopping to ask questions or clarify what they were. It just simply was between them. And for that Bianca was grateful because she didn’t have an answer, only a single instinct - run.
As their whirlwind romance had dwindled to a steady flame rather than the burning inferno, it was getting harder and harder for Bianca to ignore. It was easy at the start to insist on Adore coming to her place because she didn’t have roommates but that didn’t explain why Adore now had a drawer full of clothes in Bianca’s dresser, the second toothbrush next to her own, the fact that she knew exactly how Adore liked her first coffee of the day and that Bianca left it on the nightstand while she woke Adore a few minutes before her alarm, to steal a few moments for just the two of them before the rest of the outside world made itself known again.
-
It’s a Thursday morning, far earlier than either of their alarms were set but it wasn’t exactly early considering Bianca hadn’t slept.
There had been a moment last night when they were curled up around each other, stomachs full on take-away food they’d ordered in and her mind clouded from a few glasses too many of wine when Bianca thought that this thing they had may have been the most like home she’d ever felt. Then, even the safety that came with her familiar bedsheets and the weight of Adore’s head nestled against her shoulder feeling like a blanket concealing them from the sharp truths of reality, wasn’t enough to stop Bianca’s cold panic.
You can’t find home in a person. Hearts don’t make for strong foundations and Bianca knew exactly what it felt to have the roof come crashing in, arms not strong enough to hold it up no matter how good they felt wrapped around her.
For the rest of the night and not for the first time in the past few weeks, Bianca stopped to consider their situation. She was wearing Adore’s shirt, brewing a pot of coffee while Adore slept. Two mugs were on the counter - her own plain white and the largest she could find while Adore’s was brightly colored in an obnoxious pattern. It had found its way into her cabinet after a trip they’d made to Ikea and it was with a roll of her eyes that it ended up in the basket but it was Adore’s mug. The thought made her shudder, recoiling from the item that usually brought a fond smile to her lips in the forgiving hours of the early morning.
She’d spent hours beside Adore’s sleeping form, a leg stretched across her hips or grabby hands when Adore stirred enough to reach for her again. Once she finally detangled herself without disturbing Adore, she spent what felt like an equal amount of time leaning against the kitchen counter, idly tapping her nails against the countertop to soothe her instinctual urge to pace.
-
“We can’t do this anymore.”
Adore’s head lifted from the pillow with a groan, sleep fogging her gaze as she tried and failed to focus on Bianca’s form at the end of the bed.
“What do you mean? I sleep over on weekdays all the time. You were only late to work that once.”
Assuming there would be time to finish this argument later, Adore dropped back to the bed. She clutched the sheets closer and made grabby hands at Bianca, hoping she could convince her to come back to bed. She was oblivious to the hurricane that was circling in Bianca’s mind and in any other situation, Bianca would be handling this better. But this was Adore and she was in too deep and she was hanging on to the edge by her fingertips as she desperately tried to gain some leverage again and it had been six months.
“I mean…fuck, I mean us. We can’t do this anymore.”
Bianca fought the urge to wring her hands together, stifling it by crossing her arms across her chest. It also worked as a defense mechanism as she watched emotions cross Adore’s face and willing her own to remain blank. The last traces of sleep slipped away as Adore sat up, giving way to a combination of hurt and confusion.
There was a stab in Bianca’s chest, triggered by pure emotion that ached to reach for Adore. To soothe away the crinkle of a frown between her eyebrows, to kiss away the pout on her lips, to say things that she didn’t even know if she wanted to say. Bianca’s mind had always taken precedence over her heart though and it was with ease she distanced herself as she watched thoughts starting to form in Adore’s mind.
“I have to go to work but if you could just leave the key on the counter and lock the door behind you.”
“I…what? What the fuck do you mean?”
“I’m running late, I’ve got to go.”
“Why are you doing this?”
As Bianca turned on her heel, Adore’s voice broke. It wasn’t quite a sob, there was too much anger in her tone for it to sound broken but it stopped Bianca in her tracks. She didn’t turn around, even as she heard Adore get to her feet.
She had to focus on preparing herself for when Adore no doubt reached for her, steeling her shoulders with an ease that came from a lifetime of practice. By the time Adore was reaching for her elbow and spinning her around, Bianca was ready to fix her with a cold gaze that didn’t falter when Adore stumbled over her words.
“Just talk to me! What’s going on?”
As Adore’s voice rose, Bianca sighed. The sound was exasperated and knew it would come across directed at Adore; she wanted it to be received that way. It would be easier if Adore was mad, if Adore hated her for this.
She could see the uncertainty swimming amongst a light sheen of tears in Adore’s eyes and Bianca hated it.
Adore was creative and impulsive and could be so contradicting in her own self; wise beyond her years in some moments and so naively, endearingly youthful in others. What came with that was feeling emotions to the extreme and often, not knowing how to channel or filter them before they bubbled to the surface. Any time Adore’s mind was too muddled for her to make sense of, Bianca responded with patience and compassion and watching it now, she felt defenseless.
It was an expected question but it was one she didn’t have an answer for. Not a genuine one, not one she could admit without her own voice wavering so she lied. A calm, calculated lie that she barely recognized.
“Nothing’s going on. I just think we’ve run our course. It was fun but…it’s done.”
This time she does turn away, moving around the apartment methodically, ignoring that it was nothing like her usual routine of leaving for work. By the time she had grabbed her purse, Adore had broken free from the trance-like shock Bianca had heartbreakingly left her in and a guttural, exasperated sound from Adore breaks the silence.
“Why won’t you let me in?”
Bianca paused for a mere moment, the wince that crossed her face out of Adore’s view before sliding the strap of her purse over her shoulder.
“Goodbye, Adore.”
-
The set of keys on her counter and the silence that greeted Bianca was a stark contrast to the last six months. There were always the lingering signs of Adore being in her apartment, even if she wasn’t there to greet Bianca. Mussed sheets because Bianca was the only one who insisted on making the bed. A stray pair of shoes or clothes littering the floor of her bedroom because Adore used it as her personal wardrobe, instead of the sections Bianca had silently cleared out for her. It was even louder when Adore was there to greet her, the smell of takeaway food wafting through the front door waiting for her or Adore’s chaotic manner of getting ready for a gig and insisting Bianca hurry up too.
It was eerily silent today. Her freshly made bed and empty floor were a bitter reminder of the morning and in an attempt to escape her new reality, Bianca barely gave herself time to change clothes before she was locking the door behind her again.
Her feet nearly carried her to their usual bar, where she’d met Adore all that time ago now and where they frequented - both because Adore got discounted drinks for being on their regular rotation of musicians and the convenience of how it was right in the middle of both of their apartments. It wasn’t a question though - she could never go there again, not even on the nights she knew Adore wasn’t performing. She reasoned it was to not add fuel to the flame but a smaller voice told her that without a doubt if she knew Adore hated her, the way Bianca wanted, she might crack. But if she heard Adore sing, if Adore even spared her a single glance, Bianca without a doubt would shatter.
She found herself in a different seedy bar, a straight spirit in front of her that she was drinking too fast, too recklessly.
She had told herself all day, she wouldn’t miss Adore. She wouldn’t allow herself to miss her because it wasn’t like that. It was good sex (earthshattering, mindnumbing, so good it was practically art) but Bianca knew she could find a warm body when her urges were particularly insatiable, without everything else that had come with Adore.
She told herself she didn’t miss Adore but there was a bartender with a raised eyebrow every time he topped up her glass and a half-empty bottle of scotch that was reminding Bianca just how hard she was trying to drown Adore’s voice out of her mind, to kill her name off her lips.
-
After waking up hungover and alone after that first night, Bianca immersed herself in work. It wasn’t unusual for her but less so in the past few months as she chose Adore. To fill that void, she was putting in overtime at work. She’d been the last at the office and continued at home until she was tired enough to fall asleep in her empty bed. Although she’d never admit it, Bianca had spent the entire last week trying to avoid her apartment as much as possible. The haven didn’t feel quite as warm anymore and Bianca knew it was her own mistake of getting too comfortable with Adore around.
She’d ignored phone calls and texts from her friends, namely Courtney who of course knew since she’d introduced her to Adore and they had hit it off. She had cut herself off and was justifying it as taking time for herself again, re-focusing on work and she’d be damned if Courtney saw through the flimsy walls she was desperately trying to reconstruct.
Tonight had started different than the past week, her boss forcing her out of the office when everybody else left. She’d made her way into an unfamiliar bar and sat by herself. She was nursing a glass of wine and pretending to pay attention to whatever was playing on the small television in the corner. All night, she’d been watching the clock. She was painfully aware that Adore was singing tonight, a mere block away, tantalizingly close.
Bianca could practically feel time moving slowly as if the clock was mocking her. She was never late for one of Adore’s shows if she said she’d be there. She had a usual seat, at a high table that was slightly off the side but in a spot that was illuminated just enough that when Adore glanced her way, their eyes could meet.
She told herself she would go home, that tonight would be an early night. That’s what she repeated to herself as she grabbed her purse and turned down the street in the opposite direction of her apartment.
Her jaw was tense as she walked, faster than she needed to make it in time but if she stopped to think about it for even a second, she would snap out of the haze and talk herself out of it.
She nearly did, stumbling over her words as the bouncer greeted her by name, telling her she was just in time. She spared him a smile as he held the door open for her, just as she heard the familiar strum of a guitar that Adore would use as a final soundcheck and a way to get everybody’s attention before she spoke.
(Like everybody in the room wasn’t already looking; Adore could command a room without even trying.)
She didn’t go for her usual seat but opted to sit at the back, where she had a clear view of Adore on the small, makeshift stage but hoping that the people between them was enough to mask her from Adore’s.
She knew it was a bad idea when she turned in the direction of this bar. She knew it was a bad idea when a waitress brought her usual drink over to the table. She knew it was a bad idea when the lights were dimmed and a spotlight came on the stage.
It was a bad idea but as soon as Adore’s voice broke the silence that had settled over the bar, introducing herself and began to sing, Bianca was unable to move.
Her eyes were locked on Adore from across the room and for a moment, she thought she was going to break the glass that she had clutched in her hand. It wasn’t a song she recognized but that didn’t matter. Adore could sing anything and Bianca was enthralled.
Listening to Adore sing was something unlike anything else but this right now, it hurt. Looking at Adore hurt.
Her voice was familiar, the same one that called her name from the end of the aisle in the grocery store when she was trying to convince Bianca to buy more ice cream or singing in the shower in the early hours of the morning. It was laced heavy with emotion as Adore sang right now, in a way Bianca hadn’t heard before but she shouldn’t have been so surprised. Adore expressed herself creatively, wore her heart on her sleeve and her guitar pick.
As she listened to Adore sing, Bianca’s chest felt full. Full of regret and missing Adore and loneliness but most of all fear. It ran cold through her body, encompassing all else and then leaving her empty.
She lasted one song. One song before Bianca was finishing her drink in one mouthful and rushing outside, tears pricking at her eyes and the cool air both a shock.
-
The phone rang once. Twice. Three times.
Bianca had her back resting against the brick of the building behind her, her eyes closed and head tilted back. It was a position she’d screw her face up at when Adore pulled her into an alleyway to smoke but she found herself mirroring it now, either too exhausted or too intoxicated to care.
She was counting the seconds that passed since she pressed the call button under Adore’s name. There was no reason Adore should answer, especially not in the middle of the night and even more so because it was Bianca calling but she was holding her breath hoping she would.
She’d made a mistake that night, going to watch Adore sing. It was the first of many for the night though, the several drinks she’d had after going back to the first bar and coming here once she was cut off, being at the top of the list.
“B?” Adore answered the phone and Bianca’s mind went blank. Adore’s voice was thick with sleep and confusion but Bianca could imagine the look on her face as the realization sunk in and Adore added, “What do you want?”
“I just wanna see you.”
Adore’s quiet scoff echoed and Bianca winced.
“I do want to see you, I know that’s fucked up-”
“Yeah it is fucked up, dude.”
“Adore, I’m sorry…I don’t know why…”
Somewhere along the way, Bianca’s slurring had become a wordless, silent cry.
“Are you cr-”
“No. Shit, I don’t know. It’s just cold out here and you sounded really good tonight and…”
Between Bianca’s sniffling, Adore repeated back what she had said, piecing together the scattered segments of what Bianca had managed to get out. When silence had settled between them, only the sounds of Adore rustling on the other end and Bianca’s poorly subdued crying, she remembered why she was here.
“I didn’t buzz up, I didn’t know if anybody else was asleep.”
“I know, I’m coming down.”
Adore didn’t sound happy but Bianca’s heart still raced as she listened to her coming down the stairs, mentally trying to count each one as they were the seconds until Adore was there with her.
Once the main door to the building opened, Bianca lifted her head from where it was resting back against the brick with more effort than it should have required.
“Hi.”
She let her phone drop from her ear, dangling from her hand instead as she took in Adore’s appearance. There were slippers on her feet and a blanket tossed around her shoulders but bare legs that made her smile. It soon slipped away when Adore cleared her throat and Bianca was glancing up into disappointed eyes instead.
“Hi.”
Bianca repeated, pushing herself off the wall in a moment of confidence that was entirely misplaced as she stumbled, reminding herself that the building was in fact keeping her up and not the other way around.
As Adore cursed and surged forwards to catch her, Bianca thought maybe it wasn’t so misplaced after all.
“God, do you know what an idiot you are?”
Despite the harsh question, Adore’s voice was softer than Bianca expected. It was softer than Bianca deserved. It was hard to focus on though as she leaned against Adore, trying to remain upright and ignoring how the smell of Adore’s perfume was more intoxicating than anything else she’d consumed that night.
It was a struggle of mumbled apologies from Bianca and a gentle hushing from Adore as they got up the few flights of stairs to Adore’s apartment. It wasn’t long until they were in Adore’s bedroom and she was set down unceremoniously on Adore’s bed amongst the mussed sheets.
It was through hooded eyes that Bianca was looking up at Adore and she didn’t know if it was a remaining layer of tears or all the alcohol but her expression was unreadable.
There were so many things Bianca wanted to say, that she was sorry, that she was just scared, that she wanted things to go back to normal, that loving Adore had happened so easily and so effortlessly that she didn’t know how that could be reciprocated. Someone like her wasn’t easy to love, all sharp edges and missing parts.
All she managed was to focus her gaze enough to reach for Adore’s hand, clumsily fumbling until she could tangle their fingers enough to tug her forward a little.
She didn’t have the words, nor the balance to sink to her knees and beg Adore for things to go back to how they were. Equally so, she didn’t know if she could take it if Adore understandably, said no.
Instead of saying anything, she pulled Adore’s hand right to her face and pressed a single kiss to her palm.
They stayed that way for a moment, Bianca turning her face to rest against Adore’s hand. Adore’s sigh broke the quiet though and she pulled away, only to bend and start untying Bianca’s shoes.
The last thing Bianca remembered before succumbing to sleep was Adore pulling the sheets up to her chin and she thought to herself if somebody was going to be home that it would be this person right here, who had all the reason and hands strong enough to break her that chose to put her back together instead.
-
When Bianca woke up the next day, her hangover didn’t register immediately. Instead, her attention was drawn to the sensation of fingers running along her arm, tracing invisible patterns like Adore could read something on her skin that even Bianca didn’t know was written there.
Her eyes stubbornly remained closed and she slowly came to the rest of her senses. There was a moment of disbelief, knowing there shouldn’t be any reason Adore was still taking pity on her enough to be indulging Bianca this much.
“I’m still mad at you, you know.”
There it was. Bianca thought the moment was about to be shattered but despite Adore’s words, the soft touch never faltered.
“You’re a real pain in the ass when you’re drunk too.”
“Not just when I’m drunk,” Bianca added, the sound of her croaky voice making her wince. She finally opened her eyes though and a glass of water on the nightstand. She gulped it down gratefully and then turned around to face Adore.
“You’re right about that.”
Bianca’s shifting had pushed Adore’s hand off her arm and as she looked at Adore, face turned downwards and fingers idly playing with a stray thread, she craved the contact again.
She had none of her confidence from last night though so she didn’t reach for Adore’s hand the way she wanted to. The way she would have before she messed everything up.
“I’m sor-“
“I just want to know-“
They both started speaking but Bianca gestured for Adore to continue. The last time they spoke she had been in too much of her own panic to take in anything Adore was saying and this time, she needed to hear her out.
(Bianca was hanging on every word.)
“I want to know what happened. I thought…I didn’t think anything was wrong.”
Adore stopped, a frown forming between her brows. Bianca could see on her face that she was struggling to pull full sentences from her thoughts. Thoughts that she couldn’t gauge the way she usually could. She forced herself to be patient, to bite her tongue and let Adore sort out her thoughts. The new few moments passed tantalisingly slow but Bianca remained quiet, fiddling with the corner of the sheet to busy her hands.
“I thought we were on the same page but you were like a chapter ahead of me or something. Fuck, I don’t even think you were reading the same book as me.”
Adore’s rising frustration was evident and Bianca waited until she sighed out and nodded along for Bianca to speak.
“We were on the same page, I was just…reading too much into it?” Bianca visibly winced at trying to continue Adore’s analogy. She swallowed the lump that was forming in her throat and tried again. “Nothing was wrong exactly. That was kind of the problem though.”
It was getting hard for her to continue, especially while she was stalling what she actually needed to say. There was no liquid courage or Adore’s comforting hold to help her through it either, just Bianca needing to break through the walls that were holding her back.
“I didn’t realise how…comfortable we had gotten. It just happened so easily that I didn’t even notice it happening and that scared me.”
“I get that you’re this emotional cactus or whatever but I don’t get it still. We weren’t doing anything from the norm.”
“The fact that we had a norm was the problem.”
“You know I don’t really care for labels or anything, right?”
“I didn’t because we didn’t ever talk about it - because I didn’t want to…but I realised that if you did, that I would want to be okay with it.”
Adore seemed to understand now. The confusion faded from her expression but the defiant hurt remained, her brows still laced together in a frown.
“So you realised you were happy and…didn’t want to be?”
A single chuckle, humourless and exhausted left Bianca’s parted lips.
“Yeah, that’s pretty much it.”
“You were right, you are an idiot sober too.”
Bianca paused. There were still the nagging thoughts telling her this was too much, that she was too much but she silenced them with thoughts of how empty her life was the past week. Adore was too loud and imperfect in a million ways that made Bianca’s nerves flicker out of control but she was golden. Listening to Adore sing or watching her do something as simple as pick a movie for them to watch on Netflix and just be, as exactly who she was drove Bianca crazy.
(It made Bianca want to give Adore everything the world had to offer, down to the very last drop.)
“I am and I have no idea what I’m doing but I know I want to do it with you.”
Adore seemed to be thinking it over, tasting how the words felt in her mouth before speaking them and Bianca was a wreck. Her nerves were shot and she was ready to backpedal on all of it, to haul her hungover ass out of the apartment.
“Well that’s all you had to say.”
Adore silenced everything then, all of Bianca’s fears, the words threatening to blabble out, even the catch in her throat, with a kiss planted perfectly on her mouth.
A/N - I just love a terribly overused trope, sorry ‘bout it. Big thanks to @chaoticnachokitten my fav brainstorming partner.
Summary - Adore knows there’s nothing poetic or easy about being in love with her best friend.
-
When Adore met Bianca the first week of her freshman year, the air around her changed. It didn’t feel as heavy anymore, like something had shifted. Anything that possibly could align, did so perfectly. Bianca moved like she carried mountains on her shoulders, head held high but when her eyes strayed and locked on Adore’s in the middle of the hallway, an almost audible sound clicked into place; like it was intended to be that way all along.
Adore didn’t put a lot of merit into fate or coincidence, her heart already having experienced the inevitable break after the promise of forever shattered her family home. Whatever led her to Bianca, made Adore believe in something, even if it was sheer dumb luck. It was inexplicable between them. They were so different; Adore was a muddle of barely contained chaos and insecurity and Bianca with all the passion of someone who would throw her heart into anything she loved but all the fear of someone who was hidden behind walls higher than the mountains she moved. Nothing could compare to how they understood each other, when words didn’t come easy or saying them out loud didn’t feel like enough.
She’d never had a best friend until Bianca. Someone to squish into her bed with, pressed from shoulder to ankle. Sometimes with their hands clasped between them and talking until Adore’s mother peaked her head in to tell them to go to sleep.
As they got older, it was Bianca pulling up to take Adore to her prom after Adore made a throwaway comment about wanting to go, corsage and all. It was spinning around the dance floor and Bianca dipping Adore dramatically, even though she’d always hated other people staring. It was Bianca understanding everything Adore couldn’t say out loud. It was every inside joke, every time Bianca answered the phone at seven in the morning to see Adore’s outfit or eat cereal on FaceTime. It was Bianca teaching Adore that her beauty was not skin deep, that her suffering didn’t mean she wasn’t brave. It was Adore dragging Bianca into the unknown, into living in the moment, into being vulnerable and bare. It was both of them being there when one of them was shaking so badly it felt like the room was spinning.
It was being there through the good, bad and everything in between.
Adore realised she loved Bianca in the summer before her senior year. Bianca had graduated a few weeks ago and since then, the reality of Bianca leaving and the weight of the fact that they were about to be apart for the first time in years sunk in. There was a silent promise between them to fill every last moment together. They’d said everything there was to say; Bianca’s mix of relief and fear, Adore’s excitement and the anxieties she tried to keep to herself before Bianca saw straight through her nonchalance. It was the first time the single year between them really made any difference. Adore had a whole year left of high school without her best friend, who had a shiny college acceptance and a plane ticket already booked.
And this love. It had crept up on Adore. It came slow, settling into the silence between them. Bianca had reached across and tucked away some of Adore’s hair, the way she had probably hundreds of times before and for the first time ever, the touch set her alight. It burned, not uncomfortably so and sent a wave of warmth from the top of her head to her toes. She didn’t realise she had been staring until Bianca waved the same hand in front of her face, cackling out a joke that Adore didn’t catch.
Adore was seventeen and she was scared but there was no doubt that love was laying right next to her, close enough to touch. She realised it had been staring at her right in the eyes. But it was also her best friend.
The same night she realised she was in love with Bianca, Adore swore to herself that she’d never act on the feelings that she suddenly felt in every inch of herself. Losing Bianca wouldn’t just be a hard rejection to swallow but it would also mean losing her best friend, a heartbreak she couldn’t recover from and Adore could freely admit to herself that she was too selfish to even consider losing Bianca.
It had hurt at the beginning. Her head (and her heart) was a mess of missing Bianca’s presence, of ache and pining. It didn’t come easy, accepting that she had feelings that could never be reciprocated but it eventually lulled into something that was manageable. Some days it was easier that Bianca was gone, when the sound of her voice was the only reminder of the feelings that stirred low in her stomach.
By the time Adore had graduated herself and had her bags packed to move into the two-bedroom apartment Bianca had found for them, it didn’t hurt as much. In fact, it only came in waves that were few and far between.
Sometimes it was when Adore was Bianca’s plus one to one of her cousin’s weddings because getting an actual date wasn’t nearly as fun as taking her best friend. Sometimes it was when Bianca was still studying and they were in the library. Adore would glance at Bianca who was meticulous as she poured herself into her work, hunched over the desk and wearing glasses she refused to wear in front of anybody else. When they would catch each other’s gaze from across the room or their shared table and even amongst all the people there, Adore felt like Bianca was the only one to see her. When she felt like with a single look, Bianca was speaking directly to her in a language entirely of their own. When she caught her gaze following the curve of Bianca’s lips when she smiled.
Those moments were hard but Adore had become an expert at suppressing those feelings, so much so that some days she even questioned if they were ever there to begin with. Adore spent a lot of her early college years intoxicated enough to keep kissing the wrong people, making rash decisions and doing anything to distract her heart. To distract herself from missing someone who was right in front of her.
There was only one time that Adore thought maybe Bianca could maybe reciprocate her feelings. Once that Adore let hope inch its way into her heart.
One night, when their high school graduations were merely a faint memory of missing each other and Skype calls and they were stumbling back to their shared apartment, celebrating the last of Adore’s exams. There was a party later in the week but tonight had been just the two of them, the bar they’d frequented and too many celebratory drinks. Bianca’s head was on her shoulder and Adore was giggling as she attempted to direct them towards the elevator. It made her stumble when she felt Bianca’s hands against her hips grasping and pushing until Adore was flush against the far wall.
Then the room was spinning for entirely different reasons.
“I love you so much.”
Bianca’s voice was rougher than usual thanks to a generous bartender who’d kept a drink in front of them all night but it was music to Adore’s ears.
“I love you too.”
Adore’s reply was automatic, it was never a question of loving Bianca. Unconditionally, irrevocably so. Bianca knew her better than anybody, really knew her and accepted her, believed in her, who made her feel more like Adore than she’d ever felt before. That there was this connection between them that Bianca laughed about whenever Adore brought it up but always agreed, after her teasing.
“I love you.”
Three words were breathed against Adore’s skin, muffled from how Bianca was nuzzling her face against deeper in her neck and her own breath caught in her throat. The way Bianca’s lips were tantalizingly brushing against the columns of her neck wasn’t helping either.
“Come on, B. Let’s get you into bed.”
It was rare, if ever, that Adore was the voice of reason between them but Bianca was drunk and handsy. It was even less often that Adore was the less intoxicated one out of them. The dust of a kiss against her throat had Adore sobering up fast though and she attempted to haul both of them out of the elevator now they were on their floor.
“You’re not listening to me.”
Bianca was obviously displeased but her tone held none of her usual bite so Adore kept pushing until they were in their apartment. She’d managed to wrangle Bianca into her bedroom but as she went to set Bianca down on the bed, Adore felt a persistent hand wrap around her elbow and tug. It sent them both onto the bed in a mess of limbs and Adore winced at the awkward angle her arm was trapped under Bianca in.
“Shit, are you hurt?”
Adore’s voice came out panicked and she tried to right herself, pushing up with her free arm but Bianca’s grip was stubborn. She only stopped the frantic movements when Bianca’s familiar cackle silenced her worries.
She sighed, an exasperated sigh but one full of unyielding affection. She was never tired of Bianca.
“This…you…this is everything.”
Bianca didn’t even seem like she was talking to her anymore but Adore was following every word, her brain repeating a familiar mantra to her heart to combat the rising hope in her chest. She doesn’t love you that way. She’s your best friend. That’s enough, that’s more than enough. More than you deserve.
With Bianca’s forehead pressed to her own and hands that were desperately trying to pull her even closer, it would be all too easy to forget.
Her hand squeezed between them to brush Bianca’s hair out of her eyes, shaking her head.
“Yeah, yeah. You’re my best friend too, B.”
“No, listen.”
Now there was Bianca - the one who spoke with a tone that almost dared Adore to argue with her.
“C’mere. I want…I need you. Closer.”
The hand that was pulling on the back of her neck, Bianca trying to nudge her cheek further into Adore’s hand that was frozen, hovering near her face. It was all too much, too right and too wrong all at once.
She couldn’t recognise the look in Bianca’s eyes, sometime she hadn’t seen before. That didn’t usually happen. They had years behind them of mapping out every expression, every look, every nervous tick. They knew what every single one meant, even the new ones like how Adore’s fingers were restless when she wanted a cigarette or the steel of Bianca’s shoulders before she said something deflective. But this, whatever was swimming in Bianca’s gaze wasn’t something Adore could read.
Adore swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. If she truly thought Bianca wanted her, Adore would lay down everything she had, herself included. She would strip away the layers around her heart to say that she was scared and that she didn’t know what love was but it seemed to look a lot like how Bianca’s mouth curved when she called Adore an asshole for running late or how even their deep breaths after laughing too hard seemed to be in sync or how there wasn’t another soul in the whole universe who has ever made Adore half the person she was when she was with Bianca. Or maybe it was before she only believed in love because of Bianca.
But she had to consider the slur of Bianca’s words, the haze in her eyes. How much they’d had to drink tonight and this was her best friend.
This wasn’t anything like she had pictured, all those years ago when she allowed her mind to toy with the idea of what if before she realised it was a delicious torture; the sweetest taste of what could be and the sting of what never would. Tonight was nothing like that at all.
It was barely a struggle, Adore knew what she needed to do.
“Bianca, let me go get you some water.”
In the next heartbeat, Adore was standing beside the bed. Her hands were shaking so she tucked them behind her back as she started backing towards the door. She interrupted Bianca’s complaints and grabbing hands with a shake of her head.
“We’ll talk in the morning, ok? I promise.”
Bianca seemed to be placated by that, knowing neither of them ever broke a promise. At least not to each other.
Adore slipped out of the room and took a few steadying breaths, slumped against the wood. By the time she was back with painkillers and a glass of water, Bianca was fast asleep.
They don’t talk in the morning.
-
When Bianca introduced Adore to her new girlfriend two weeks later, her whole world was swept out from under her feet.
Neither of them had ever had a real significant other. There had been flings but boyfriends, girlfriends and one-night-stands alike came and went. Neither of them were the type to settle down. Adore was far too busy chasing anyone who could make her feel something and moving on when it didn’t quite fill the space she needed it to.
Bianca was guarded, never vulnerable and always seemed like she had one foot out the door from the get-go with her relationships.
It shouldn’t hurt her feelings so much, not with the knowledge of Bianca’s track record tucked away as a silent comfort in the back of her mind. Not with the constant reminder that Bianca had been drinking that night, that she didn’t mean what she said to Adore and that best friends was the only label she needed from Bianca.
Things with Bianca felt raw and vulnerable again after the drunken night that Adore seemed to be the only one to remember. It had been a few weeks and Adore was still working through forgetting the neediness of Bianca’s hands, the pure want in her voice.
Those same hands were now curled around a different slim waist in their kitchen and whispering things into somebody else’s ear, with blonde hair carefully tucked behind. Adore would usually tease Bianca about it later but right now, hearing Bianca’s casually slip her new relationship status into conversation was turning her stomach. The timing couldn’t be worse.
Courtney was nice. All tan skin, big blue eyes and a humour not dissimilar to her own. If they’d met under other circumstances, Adore knew they would get along. To Bianca’s dismay, Adore often got along with the people who were supposed to be forgotten by morning or at least by the end of the month.
This time, she was avoiding Bianca’s sharp warning gaze as Adore brushed over the introduction and carried on getting her breakfast.
-
Over the next few days, she avoided talking about it every time Bianca attempted to confront her, which was often. She was either late for a shift at her part-time job or busy sending around her resume, now updated with her recent degree so she could stop working as a bartender. She even bailed on their weekly movie night, a tradition that stood through their year-long separation in high school, every college finals week, every summer and every holiday break.
She couldn’t look at Bianca without feeling hurt. She was angry; angry at Bianca, angry when Courtney was in their apartment and trying to talk to her. Mostly angry at herself. She’d spent years building up roadblocks and barriers to stop herself feeling this way and it had all come apart in one night.
Eventually after she’d tried to talk to Adore a handful of times, Bianca stormed off with her hands on her hips and muttering about how Adore better be civil since Courtney would be over again soon. The thought of another night listening to Courtney’s poorly stifled giggles through their shared bedroom wall didn’t just hurt, it had Adore’s stomach turning.
Adore was no stranger to running away from her problems. She had run away from her family’s looming issues, from her hometown that neither she or Bianca had returned to since graduating, from her own thoughts and feelings when they were too overwhelming to deal with, from people who tried to get too close to her; shying away from anything that she didn’t think she’d be able to recover from. But now, for the first time in their friendship, Adore ran from Bianca.
Her fingers typed out a text before she had the chance to properly consider it, an overnight bag tossed over her shoulder and a brief goodbye to Bianca, sans an explanation for why she suddenly had plans.
-
“I just don’t see why they have to be there in my apartment.”
“Now you sound stupid. Don’t you remember all the jokes about Willam’s ass on your kitchen bench?”
Adore did remember. It had been after a night of drinking, she and Bianca had split off with their friends. Adore tugged Willam into a club after whining about wanting to dance for the previous hour while everyone else went to a different bar. Bianca didn’t let either of them live it down after she came home to find them, making them both bleach the entire kitchen the next morning while Alaska laughed on the couch as they recounted the story. Bianca hadn’t laughed but it still seemed light-hearted.
It was different, it was Willam and they had all been friends for a few years at that point. It meant nothing for either of them. It wasn’t someone new and shiny with an interesting accent and a knack for making Bianca laugh.
Adore groaned into the pillow, the only response she had for Alaska’s drawl. She was basking in her own hypocrisy, stubbornly refusing to admit to herself let alone out loud what she knew from the moment she shrugged off Courtney’s attempt to talk to her.
She had made a choice years ago that nothing was more important than her friendship with Bianca, not her own feelings and especially not the new uncomfortable feelings of jealousy.
A sigh fell from her lips as Alaska’s hand tugged away the cushion, smoothing down Adore’s mussed hair. She was ready to protest, to moan that she didn’t particularly care just yet if she was in the wrong but Alaska cut her off with a knowing look.
“You could always just tell her, you know.”
“Tell her what?”
“That you love her.”
Alaska spoke so matter of fact, glanced so casually at her long manicure that Adore gaped at her for a moment, all self-pity forgotten.
When the silence between them drew out and Adore realised Alaska wasn’t going to elaborate on it anymore, something Adore usually appreciated about Alaska’s friendship, her jaw snapped shut and she grabbed for the pillow again.
“I can’t.”
-
“Don’t push me away, you’re my best friend.”
“I’m not- god, Bianca. Just leave it alone.”
Adore could count on one hand how many times she and Bianca had fought. Really fought, the kind that left her throat raw and dry. They had all ended the same way, an eventual mutual forgiveness even if they continued to disagree (which they often did) because despite both their stubborn streaks, their friendship ran deeper.
When she returned from Alaska and Willam’s apartment, her unused bag in her hand and an apology waiting on her lips, she was expecting to have to apologise to Courtney. She wasn’t prepared for a pacing Bianca in an otherwise empty apartment and an anger that was palpable.
“I know there’s something you’re not telling me!”
As Bianca’s voice rose, so did Adore’s own temper. Bianca knew her by heart. It was infuriating her that Bianca knew her by heart. That she knew every tell of Adore’s body language, that she knew exactly what to say to antagonise her just enough for Adore to retaliate.
“So fucking what? I don’t have to tell you everything.”
The brief flash of hurt across Bianca’s face didn’t last long enough for their fight to diffuse, for Adore to buckle and apologise or for Bianca to admit what she was actually feeling.
Instead it was merely fuel added to the flame and Bianca flung her arms out in exasperation.
“Is it something to do with Courtney?”
It was Adore’s turn to see red. Adore always felt in extremes. Like there was electricity running through her veins and anger was no exception to that, all thoughts of making up and apologising had evaporated. Anger came in currents for Adore, crashing around her in outbursts that she would later come to regret but in the moment, nothing could stop her path.
She was too immersed in the fight, in her own emotions to catch herself the way she usually would. Her private feelings were buried deep and neglected and had no place in their arguments but this time, there wasn’t any containing it.
Bianca’s comment had visibly struck a nerve. Before Bianca could register the jealousy swimming in her eyes or pounce on it as a sign of weakness, Adore bit back.
They both had dangerous mouths. Bianca often found herself in trouble from her sharp, unapologetic tongue. The only difference between them was everything Bianca said was calculated. Adore was pure impulse.
“No it’s not about your pick of the week. Is there a reason she’s not here? Did she ask you to commit for longer than a month or something?”
Adore hadn’t just crossed the line, she had pole-vaulted over it. Their mutual commitment issues were off the table, at least as ammunition in an argument. They both knew each other well enough that it stemmed from something that happened long before they’d met each other, ingrained from some of their first examples of love and commitment and what could be left in its wake. It was reserved for quiet, serious conversations.
Adore ignored the stabs of guilt and continued, before Bianca could get a word in.
(Before Bianca could say something that would cut Adore a lot deeper.)
“Just, trust me. You don’t want to know so leave it.”
Adore was positive of that. If she let her feelings spill out into the space between them, if she held all her yearning and want up to the light. Their friendship couldn’t survive that kind of truth and even with all the love, the purest kind, it would slip away through the tatters of broken trust.
“Try me.”
Arms crossed over her chest, Bianca steeled herself for the retort. Adore might have been reckless during a fight but not unpredictable. Bianca was equally as stubborn, her hard and cold exterior a stark contrast. She had already weighed the possibilities as she continued to ignite the argument, the flames dancing around both of them now. For a moment she vaguely considered if she’d pushed it too far in trying to get Adore to simply open up to her.
It was too late to backtrack and a stubbornness stopped her anyway. Now Bianca merely felt like a witness now rather than an active party anymore as she watched the frustration rise in Adore’s eyes and knew for sure she’d pushed too much, too soon. Adore’s anger could result in a handful of things. Hot, angry tears that ran silently down her face, yelling that came from deep in her chest or she could get physical. Never with another person, never with Bianca but with things. Throwing her phone or punching the wall until her knuckles were bruised and bleeding.
“Remember, you fucking asked for it.”
In a single breath, Adore had crossed the distance between them and was standing right in front of Bianca. Before either of them could react, Adore kissed her. She kissed her like Bianca was river and she was dying of thirst. There was an argument in her head but she kissed her hard, because she’d been waiting and wanting to do it for so long.
It wasn’t like her teenage daydreams of holding Bianca’s face delicately, kissing tentatively and gently as they mapped out the uncharted territory.
This was hard and possessive and above all else, an answer. It wasn’t careful or soft, it was a hand clutching the back of Bianca’s neck and messy, all tongue and teeth. It was Adore begging Bianca to understand and for a moment before she drew away, it felt like Bianca’s hands were gripping her hips just as hard, fingers digging into her skin.
Adore felt her heart break, almost in preparation as she pulled back. She didn’t go far, forehead nearly pressed to Bianca’s. Anger had passed, the burn simmered down to something else. Fear, replacing the currents vibrating her body into something frozen, unmoving.
“I nearly told you, once. But when you woke up you didn’t bring it up and…”
Adore’s explanation faded off as Bianca’s hands slipped from her waist and almost as quickly as she had initiated the kiss, Bianca turned and left.
She didn’t say anything.
-
The click of the front door echoed and Adore didn’t turn until she stopped hearing the sound. She glanced around the apartment and everything looked exactly the same. Her shoes in a pile by the door next to Bianca’s neatly lined in pairs. A photo of them on the bookshelf from the previous Christmas where Adore pressed their cheeks together and a brightly coloured hat on each of their heads. There was the coffee table they had (painfully) built together and cluttered with knick knacks Adore had begged for them to get at a thrift store.
Everything looked exactly the same but nothing was the same. Not anymore.
Adore’s eyes were locked on the door, not straying from the chipped paint as she counted.
There wasn’t a particular number she was looking for, just for the handle to turn and for Bianca to come back.
Not once but twice today, they had walked out on each other. On their friendship.
This was the exact reason Adore had kept her feelings to herself all these years, to avoid this feeling right here. Like there was something pushing heavily against her chest and for the first time, there was nothing waiting to catch her, no steadying hands or comforting words.
The argument wasn’t at all how it was supposed to happen. On the walk back to their apartment, Adore had practised her speech. Her apology was authentic, the regret for how she had acted clear to her even before the fight. A promise to get along with Bianca’s girlfriend, a silent reassurance to herself that this feeling of hope shadowed by disappointment would eventually fade.
As seconds turned into minutes, Adore had enough sense to move to the couch before her knees buckled under her weight. She dropped her head to her hands, eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to get the room to stop spinning around her.
Surprisingly, no tears came. Regret had risen and felt trapped in her throat, stopping any noise from escaping. Before Adore succumbed to the pull of the raw emotions that made her want to scream, to wash away any memory of Bianca on her skin as if it would make it hurt less, she pushed herself to her feet again.
She couldn’t stop to think about what it would mean if Bianca didn’t come back or worse, what was inevitably going to happen if Bianca did come back.
Adore stopped counting as she wandered around the apartment in search of something to distract her shaking hands.
-
“What are you doing?”
Bianca’s voice rang over the sound of Adore clanging in the kitchen.
The illusion of normalcy shattered as soon as Bianca rounded the corner to find Adore on the floor, surrounded by the contents of one of their kitchen drawers.
She froze, a spatula in one hand and a whisk she swore neither of them had ever used before in the other. If Bianca was feeling even a fraction of the anxiety Adore was, she didn’t show it. A confused look plagued her expression as she looked between Adore and the clutter around her but Adore couldn’t read anything else on her face.
That made her even more nervous. She could face Bianca’s anger, the very worst of the wrath but stepping into the unknown? Adore didn’t know how to brace her heart for that.
“You always complain you can never find anything in this drawer.”
A few seconds of silence passed between them and briefly, a flash of amusement curled the corners of Bianca’s lips. It was gone as quickly as it appeared though and Adore considered it to be no more than a habit, years of their fights never being too serious that they couldn’t laugh at each other or themselves if the moment called for it.
“We need to talk.”
Adore nodded silently and abandoned the mess of utensils on the floor to follow Bianca to the couch.
-
By the time the both of them were on opposite sides of the couch, bodies turned in to face one another, Adore had lost what little nerve she had left.
There was a part of her that ached to blubber out an apology, to swear nothing had to change and that she was an idiot for kissing Bianca. There was a bigger part though, one that had started to build up a shield from the whole situation, knowing the hurt was going to come no matter what and that kept her quiet as she attempted to brace for the impact.
“What did you mean I didn’t bring it up the next day?”
Adore’s gaze lifted, like a glimpse of Bianca would confirm if she heard right. It was her first instinct to question it, to ask Bianca to repeat it and elaborate so that she would have more time to think about her own response. If Bianca’s hard expression was anything to go off, that wasn’t the right move. Adore waited until the words tasted right in her mouth before she spoke.
“When you woke up, we didn’t talk about what had happened. You didn’t…you just made a joke about the bartender and that was it.”
“To lighten the mood!”
The outburst was nothing like their earlier fight, an instant apology on Bianca’s lips that Adore brushed over. Her mind was racing as it processed the new information, a welcome distraction from the lingering uneasiness as they started the conversation.
“What are you saying? That…you wanted me to bring it up?”
“You were looking at me like somebody had died or something and I thought it would make you laugh and relax a little.”
Bianca deflected the question, continuing on with her initial explanation, a frown forming between her brows as she spoke.
“B, did you want us to talk about it?”
Adore didn’t know whether it was the familiar nickname on her lips or the sudden assertiveness in her tone that stopped Bianca but finally, dark eyes met her gaze again. With a sigh, Adore visibly watched the layers of Bianca’s armour peel back to reveal a candor vulnerability that only emerged when one of them really needed it to. This time, Adore didn’t know who it was for more, for her or Bianca herself.
“You promised we would.”
That night weeks ago now, Adore had laid awake for hours. She considered every route the conversation the next morning could go down. Some were promising, others gut-wrenching but she felt ready. At least until Bianca seemingly brushed off her hours of contemplation and concern with a single joke.
It had never occurred to her that Bianca may have been as equally as nervous for the conversation as she was.
She hadn’t been mad at her best friend for dismissing the topic, accepting it as a moment of loneliness or confusion, the lines of their close relationship briefly blurred between friends and lovers. Adore knew she was happy whichever side she ended up on, as long as Bianca would have her.
She was mad at herself now though, as she listened to Bianca lay out the truth between them.
“You promised and then when we didn’t talk, I thought that meant you didn’t feel the same way.”
There was an audible strain in Bianca’s voice, Adore picking up on it immediately. She wanted to reach for Bianca’s hand. Nothing felt too scary to say when they were palm to palm but she hesitated.
It was the most blunt either of them had been yet and it was scary. Falling in love with Bianca was a double-edge sword, no heartbreak comparable to the one of losing your best friend.
After a moment of conflict, she reached across the distance between them for Bianca’s hand. Their fingers laced together and she sent a reassuring squeeze through the grip, relieved when she received a brush of Bianca’s thumb across her knuckles.
“I thought you were trying to be nice about…I don’t know, letting me down gently?”
Adore cringed after her admission but watched the relief relax Bianca’s features, letting the tension go from her own shoulders.
“So we’re both idiots.”
“Duh.”
It slipped out before she could stop it, both of them sharing a smile over the familiar sentiment. It was enough for Adore to take a deep breath and speak openly.
“I wanted to kiss you back that night but not like that. Not when I wasn’t sure if you were sure, if you wanted me like that or not.”
Sometimes Adore felt like she spoke in circles, never truly saying what she meant but Bianca was like her personal translator, rarely having to ask questions.
“I loved you long before I had the guts to let you know that night.”
“I-”
“No, Adore. Let me finish. I’m in love with you. That’s what I should have told you that night - or any night before then. I wanted to tell you, really but…I was scared. We both know what that stupid word does to people and I can’t lose you.”
“I…I love you too. For a long time but I didn’t tell you either. You’re my best friend and I never imagined that you would feel the same and…it’s obvious I’d pick missing out on that chance if it meant I still got to have you around.”
Once their admissions had settled in the air between them, neither of them knowing what else to say, Adore couldn’t help but laugh. A relieved, disbelieving sound filling the space.
It didn’t feel like fireworks in her chest once it was out in the open, just like it hadn’t been love at first sight. They were each other’s shoulder to cry on, a faithful comrade through every monster who was too scary to face alone. It was knowing each other’s best and worst habits, the ability to make each other laugh on their darkest nights. It was hearing Bianca’s voice as a lullaby, the raspy tones more comforting than any cradle song from her childhood. Love had never been part of the equation but it came nonetheless, slowly filling her chest with warmth.
Eventually, after Bianca had joined in the laughter, they fell into each other, meeting in a fumbling embrace in the middle of the couch. Adore let her head lull on the back of the couch, gaze turned up toward the ceiling before her eyes fell closed.
“We still need to talk about this…figure out what it all means.”
“In the morning?”
Adore felt Bianca’s head settle back as well, tilted so their foreheads were slightly touching and she leaned into the contact.
Summary - Bianca and Adore wake up together after a night out on tour.
A/N - might not be what you’re expecting from the description - or a totally realistic idea but I couldn’t get it out of my head so enjoy the pure mindless fluff that it is!
-
It’s with a groan that Roy stirred awake, instantly aware of a throbbing in his temples. His mouth felt dry and when he went to rub his eyes, his hand came away with black smudges. It wasn’t often he went to bed without fully cleaning Bianca away from his face so that paired with the initial symptoms of a nasty hangover told him that last night had been a big one.
He wasn’t surprised to notice a dark head of hair curled up on his shoulder, clingling closer and making a noise of disapproval as Roy started to shift. Danny usually ended up in Roy’s bed whether they were sharing a hotel room or if they were down the hall from each other. It had started as the four of them, the familiarity of the ABCD group piling into bed with each other, either too drunk or too reluctant to part from the comfort of their makeshift family some nights when they felt so far away from any other sense of normalcy.
As they continued to tour with each other and they realised Darienne snored and Courtney more often than not brought trade back to the hotel room with her, Danny and Roy spent almost every night together. It didn’t matter if they came back together or if Danny came in hours later than Roy, they almost always found themselves in the same shared space every morning. Plus, Roy was the only person who could get Danny up on time.
The dull light that peaked through the corners of the curtains told Roy it was well into the afternoon and much later than he usually got up, on days he wasn’t nursing quite possibly his worst hangover in years. When he was younger, partying was just as much part of the gig as the performance was. Drag work meant clubs and clubs were exclusively night work. Even drag brunch was performed after not sleeping from the Saturday before. Shots backstage in the dressing room quickly translated into a glass of wine while getting ready and afterparties. Roy didn’t participate nearly as much in all the antics and partying as his fellow Drag Race sisters did. This tour had been somewhat of an exception though, much at Courtney and Adore’s insistence.
Roy was getting glimpses into the previous night as he closed his eyes again to soothe some of the pain. Going out after the show, still in drag, dancing with Adore in a club, taking shots with Courtney, saying a reluctant goodnight to Darienne and then not a lot else. Some hazier memories without Courtney, of being in a cab with Adore practically in her lap and not much else after that. They’d somehow made their way back to the hotel though and after daring a glance at the nightstand, Roy’s phone seemed to be in tack even if it wasn’t on charge and his bank card thankfully next to it.
As he woke up more, his hand running along Danny’s back as a gentle way to start waking him up, Roy noticed they were both in nothing but their underwear. That wasn’t unusual though, the lack of privacy in dressing rooms, sharing a hotel room so often and the numerous occasions Roy has stumbled Danny into a shower after a drunken night meaning there were little to no barriers between them anymore. He was just grateful he’d somehow managed to get them both out of their costumes and cinchers before they’d passed out.
There was extra pressure on his hip other than Danny’s body though, a discomfort where Danny’s knee was nudging against, leg tossed over both of Roy’s thighs.
Eyebrows knit together in a frown, Roy peeled back the blanket. There was a bandaged taped in place on his hip, half covered by his briefs. Quickly dismissing the thought that he’d hurt himself somehow in the show, he started to pull off some of the tape. If it was rare for him to wake up with a hangover, it was unheard of for him to come home hurt after a night out. Even after completely letting go of his inhibitions, Roy by nature was always careful and especially as Bianca, in control of the situation.
“Let me up, my love.”
Roy nudged Danny’s arm until he grumbled a little but loosened his hold enough to let Roy slip out from the embrace. Standing up was briefly disorientating but even the raging headache wasn’t enough to distract Roy from his curiosity. He padded into the bathroom, wincing at the harsh lights until his eyes adjusted.
He looked at the bandage in the mirror and watched his reflection as he tucked the waistline of his briefs down to see the bandage in full. It honestly wasn’t that big at all but he couldn’t work out what he could possibly have done to the dip of his hip bone to warrant a bandage. Or more importantly, who had bandaged him up? It certainly hadn’t been him or Danny, considering they seemed to be in about the same state. Impatient, he was hasty in pulling off the tape but was cautious as he pulled the bandage away, not knowing what to expect.
“No fucking way.”
-
The night before was one of their biggest crowds yet and they all felt the difference. Performing to any crowd at all was an experience but one of this volume, to see the rows going further back than they could with the stage lights partially in their eyes and to hear the applause not of a hundred people in a club but thousands. The atmosphere was addictive and they closed the show a high. Once they’d all caught their breath backstage, there was no discussion of if they were going out but just a matter of where.
A few hours into the night, after Courtney had separated from the group to talk to the guy she’d been eyeing since the first club and Darienne called it a night, Adore was hanging off Bianca’s shoulder at the bar. Their makeup was slightly smudged from sweat both from the show and dancing but it was mainly in tack still. Their wigs had seen better days but in Adore’s case, that was true even before the show and Bianca would have told her that, had she not been in such a good mood.
“Come on, Delano. Let me buy you another drink.”
It wasn’t often or ever that Adore was the voice of reason between the two of them. Bianca took celebrating seriously though and tonight there was a definite reason for it. She’d been the one offering a round of shots, to agree to Adore’s first request to dance despite her usual reservations, the one who complained and tried to convince Darienne to stay out longer.
“Let’s go back to the hotel, Yanx. We can drink more from the mini-bar.”
Adore tugged on Bianca’s hand, letting her lips drop into an exaggerated pout to counter Bianca shaking her head stubbornly.
“I had to tuck for the show and it’s so uncomfortable.”
“Go untuck in the bathroom!”
Using her free hand, Adore tugged up her miniskirt just enough so that Bianca could see the thin strap of the thong Adore was wearing and made it obvious why she couldn’t untuck. Without the support of the tape, that thong certainly wasn’t going to be enough support for the short skirt. Bianca rolled her eyes but was quick to tug the material back into place.
“Alright, alright, you whore. Lead the way.”
Bianca allowed their fingers to lace together instead of the loose hold so that Adore could lead them to the exit, already fishing into her bra with her free hand to pull her phone out to book them a ride back to the hotel.
The cool air was a stark contrast from the stuffiness of the club and although momentarily relieved, Bianca knew they’d get cold quick. She sighed, trying to get her eyes to focus on the screen so she could type the address of the hotel. She was snapped back into the moment when Adore tugged excitedly on her hand, nearly dropping her phone in the process.
Before she could make a snide remark about Adore practically ripping her arm off, she was being tugged down the street until they came to a stop a few doors down. Confused for a moment at what she was looking at, Bianca looked the store up and down dubiously while Adore bounced on the spot.
“We have to. Come on!
-
Roy was frozen for a moment as he looked at his reflection, at what the bandage had revealed. He blinked once. Twice. Then he was moving back into the main room, reaching for the corner of the duvet and tugging it off the bed despite the loud complaints from Danny.
“I swear to god, Adore.”
He avoided Danny’s hands that were alternating between swatting at him and trying to grab a hold of him, no doubt to pull him back to bed to make up for the lost warmth. He was too caught up in his task to be tempted, though bed was more and more inviting as his head spun, a mix of his confusion and the resounding headache.
“You better have one too.”
Mumbling to himself at this point, he ignored Danny’s squinting gaze that looked down at him and tugged against Danny’s knee where he’d curled it up into himself.
“Quit squirming around.”
Grateful that Danny compiled without complaint, Roy pressed against the planes of Danny’s stomach until he was laying flat but he was surprised to find no matching bandage covering Danny’s hip. Remembering that the idea came from Danny initially, Roy was dumbfounded that he was the only one to leave the shop with a tattoo. His first and only tattoo.
He even lifted the waistband of Danny’s thong on each side to make sure there wasn’t one covered by the material, shaking his head as Danny giggled at the touch from under where his hands were covering his face, no doubt to try and escape the dull light that was entering the room.
“Are you coming on to me?”
“In your wildest dreams. Or at least the ones you have when I wake up to you humping my ass.”
Even in his state of shock, Danny’s responding laugh had Roy’s lips lifting in a smile. He shifted to kneel by Danny’s side instead after reaching for the blanket and tugging it back over Danny, resting back on his heels.
“I’m guessing you can’t tell me how I got this?”
He pulled down his underwear on one side to show Danny the small but prominent tattoo. He glanced up to gauge Danny’s reaction, expecting it at least to be as surprised as he was. He wasn’t expecting the amused, knowing grin that was spread across Danny’s lips.
“You bitch!”
“Hey, you were all about it! I picked it out but you loved it last night!”
Roy rolled his eyes. Of course Adore picked it out, he should have picked that immediately as his memories came back to him. Some were still fuzzy, especially in getting back to the hotel and how on Earth any tattoo artist decided that either of them were sober enough to be inked.
He got up again, returning to the bathroom to keep looking at himself in the mirror, turning from side to side. Part of him wanted to rub his finger across it, as if to see if it was fake or not but he swallowed the urge and instead picked up the pamphlet he’d noticed when he was in the bathroom earlier. After a quick read through, he noted it was instructions on ‘how to care for your new tattoo’.
“Alright, expert. Can I shower with this thing yet or not?”
He knew the instructions would probably tell him that but he tossed them back onto the bench after he got a decent idea. Danny probably wasn’t the best person to ask. As many tattoos he had, Danny was hardly someone who went by the book as Roy liked to normally. With the exception of apparently getting a tattoo impulsively.
He was about to poke his head back into the main room to see why Danny hadn’t responded when he felt hands coming to rest on his sides, curling around his abdomen and a chin settling against his shoulder. Roy leaned back into the embrace, his eyes flitting up from the tattoo to Danny’s face instead.
“Do you like it?”
Roy took a moment before responding. He watched Danny’s hand gently trace around the tattoo, not touching it but closely around the outline of the small but defined mermaid now permanently on his skin.
“I’m just glad you didn’t pick a dildo or something.”
He chuckled as Danny nudged him from behind, unhappy with that as a response and wanting Roy to continue.
“I like it, angel. Relax, even drunk I wouldn’t do something I didn’t want to. It’s cute.’”
Danny relaxed against him, having heard what he needed to release any lingering guilt that was ready to emerge if Roy hated it, if he felt that Danny had pressured him into anything.
“I like it too.”
“I really like that it’s not somewhere I’ll have to cover up for Bianca.”
Something unrecognisable crossed Danny’s expression then that made Roy’s eyebrow quirk in interest. He was already comforted by the fact that it wasn’t on his arm or his face or somewhere else obnoxious so he wasn’t worried, just curious as he watched Danny squirm in their reflection. He turned in Danny’s arms to face him.
“So I might have a problem.”
His curiosity doubled, Roy didn’t have time to respond before Danny was pulling his arms away and taking a step back. Danny turned around and showed Roy what he had been looking for earlier but missed. A small bandage like Roy’s, except it was on the curve of Danny’s ass rather than his hip.
“No fucking way. Tell me you got a clownfish on your ass or something.”
Roy was cackling at this point, hands gesturing for Danny to reveal what it was but he sombered quickly once Danny had pulled the bandage away. In small, cursive writing was ‘Willow’ permanently inscribed on Danny’s skin. Both of the tattoos held meaning exclusively for one another but Danny’s was something that could never be explained as something else. Willow was something Danny and Danny alone called Roy, usually my Willow, either in their lightest of moments or when one of them really needed the other, needed to belong somehow.
“Adore…”
He trailed off, unsure of what he wanted to say but knowing something needed to be said. Roy stepped forward, hands reaching for Danny to pull him into a tight hug. Vulnerable was something Roy was never comfortable being, even in front of their close knit group of friends. He was certainly softer to all of them than the rest of the world but still guarded to a degree. He wanted - he needed to let Danny in now though.
“Never one to be subtle, are you. I love it. Do you? Like it too, I mean.”
Stumbling over his words, Roy sighed quietly when Danny nuzzled his cheek against his shoulder, allowing the touch to ease the tension that had risen in his body. His own hand was resting low on Danny’s back where he knew the tattoo was just below where his fingers were sprawled.
“Of course I love it. I’ll have to be careful next time I go live on Instagram though.”
That was enough to have them both laughing, knowing Danny’s history of flashing his moon tattoo, now infamous amongst his fans for it. The seriousness of the moment had passed but Roy still felt the same swell in his chest, like it was a secret only he and Danny knew about.
“The fangirls would go crazy if they saw this.”
Roy pulled back a little, sharing a smile with Danny before he was moving around him to get to the shower, reaching in to turn the hot water on. The initial shock had distracted him but now that he had gotten all the answers he needed, he was becoming more and more aware of the niggling symptoms of his hangover again. Namely, he remembered that Bianca’s makeup was still smeared all over his face and he desperately wanted it off.
“I’m taking your silence as a yes I can shower so go order us some room service, I’ll be quick.”
“Shut up, there’s enough room for us both.”
“I won’t be long-”
“We’ll order together when we get out and there’s a cream you have to put on when you get out. It’s easier if I’m already in here with you.”
Roy wasn’t quite convinced with Danny’s argument but it wasn’t like he was going to say no anyway. Despite Danny knowing that as well, probably even better than Roy did, he rolled his eyes for show mainly and pulled them both under the spray of water.
When the World Finally Stops (Biadore) - Tanawrites
SUMMARY - Various moments that ensue after Roy returns home to find Danny has taken refuge at his place for the quarantine.
A/N - details of Bianca being on tour and the stay-at-home order are embellished a little for the story. timeline is a little hazy for the same reason! also I’m not from the US, sorry if anything is desperately wrong and for all my added ‘u’s.
-
The familiar sound of his front door unlocking was music to Roy’s ears. Coming home was always a good feeling after any amount of travel but missing home was for the most part, a small price to pay compared to all the rewards of his career. As more and more tours came about, home wasn’t quite as frequent as he would have liked. Luckily his current tour had him only on the other side of the country, not the other side of the world as the pandemic hit.
Getting home had been a struggle of frantic packing, airports and uncertainty. The constant stream of news playing on the airport televisions, notifications on his phone and watching others in their panic with face masks and hand sanitiser had done nothing for Roy’s anxieties.
He was home now though. Where apparently, he would be staying for a while.
Wheeling the large suitcase behind him, he was idly writing himself a mental checklist. For someone who packed as precisely as he did, unpacking wasn’t a massive task but it was a priority on his list. Call the boarding kennel to organise picking up the dogs as soon as possible was a close second. Write a grocery list. Email his manager to see what all this truly meant for the rest of Bianca’s tour and performing in general. Even amongst all the panic of the past few days since the announcement of a stay-at-home order, the comfort of his home had started to lull him into a sense of normalcy.
It was a small clink from further in the house that drew him out of his thoughts. He frowned and paused where he was still in the entryway, trying to peer closer to where the sound came from.
“Chill! It’s just me.”
Roy felt his body sag in relief. He had heard ‘just me’ enough times after handing over his second hotel room keycard or the spare key to his home to expect exactly who walked out from the kitchen.
Danny.
With a bowl of what Roy perceived to be cereal that was dangerously close to spilling over his expensive rug. Roy eyed how casually Danny’s lanky arms were thrown out towards him, no regard to the milk droplets he was splashing, wearing nothing but a loose tank top and underwear by the looks of it.
As much of a comfort as being home was, seeing Danny felt like Roy could breathe again.
“No, no wait. No hugs yet.”
Roy held a hand out to even further ward Danny off and felt a twinge of remorse for the bluntness when he saw his expression fall. He felt the same way. It had been months too long since they’d seen each other and even though yet again, it was all part of the life they’d chosen, it had been hard.
“Not like that, c’mon pussyface. I’ve just been at the airport with god knows who else and I want to be careful. Let me have a shower and we can catch up.” Roy waited until Danny nodded, sending him a reassuring smile before continuing into the house.
“Don’t bring that in here.” Roy turned around at the doorway of his bedroom to further emphasize that he meant it with a pointed look back to the kitchen. “I’ll take my time so you can try and hide whatever it is that has you looking so guilty.”
His usual cackle carried through to his bathroom as he stored away the guilty, deer-in-headlights expression on Danny’s face deep into his memory to make fun of him later.
-
“Thirty second warning!” Roy called out once he was dried off and dressed again. He tossed his clothes in the hamper, resisting how much he wanted to put them all in the washer immediately. The urge to seek out Danny had already won out against his discomfort before it was even truly a conflict in his mind.
He couldn’t help from conducting a less-than-subtle inspection on the condition of his home as he wandered through the house to find Danny. It was no secret that they were at opposite ends of the spectrum when it came to organisation. His place seemed to be in a mostly decent condition though - the mussed sheets on his bed and the makeshift ashtray on the balcony were to be expected with any visit from Danny.
Roy didn’t have to go far before his eyes were settling on Danny sprawled across the couch and he wasted no time in tucking himself into the space that seemed to be purposely left for him against Danny’s side.
“Missed you.” It was a simple admission, said quietly into the skin of Danny’s neck as Roy settled. They had never really needed all too many words to know exactly what the other was actually trying to say. That’s not to say that he didn’t feel a warmth settle over him when Danny returned the sentiment with a kiss to his head.
Affection felt natural for them, years of friendship and the tight quarters of hotel rooms and tour buses meaning their bodies were drawn to one another and knew exactly how to move around each other. Those years, starting with drunken kisses and later very purposely sober hookups further cemented how important touch was to the both of them. It was as much of a form of communication as talking was for them.
The way they had instinctively curled around each other was enough to settle Roy’s nerves but not enough to satisfy his curiosity.
“What are you doing here, queen? I thought you would have gone to your mom’s place.”
“Too crowded. Like, I love them all but I just know my mom’s probably freaking out with this whole thing going on and I wanted to stay in the city.”
Roy hummed his understanding before tilting his head to meet Danny’s eyes more. “And your apartment? You know, that place you pay rent for every month? Where all your worldly belongings are?”
“Well I didn’t want to be totally alone for the whole stay-at-home order and I figured you’d be home when I got here.”
“How long have you been here?”
Danny looked slightly embarrassed, to Roy’s amusement, as he admitted “A week and a half.”
“You bitch, there wasn’t even a mention of a quarantine then.”
“Ok ok, maybe I just missed your ridiculously comfy mattress and needed a change of scenery for some writing I’ve been trying to do. Why can’t you ever let me get away with anything?”
Roy rolled his eyes as Danny whined. It clearly wasn’t a problem for him that Danny was here - there wouldn’t be a spare key made up for him if it was.
In all honesty, Roy was more relieved to see Danny here than he was to be home in general. It made him feel human to have Danny around and with his anxiety flared from all the uncertainty, he was starting to feel grounded again.
It would only be all that much better when he had Sammy and Dede curled around his feet again as well.
“Crazy times, queen.”
-
After spending the night bringing each other up to speed, far too late into the night for how tired Roy was from travel, he still found himself waking up before Danny.
He untangled their limbs carefully, though he knew he didn’t have to. Danny could and has slept through almost anything, including any alarm he set ever and Michelle Visage banging on their door to let them know he was late to a meet and greet. Always an early riser, despite how often Danny tried to tempt him to stay in bed, Roy barely even jostled the snoring man he left in bed.
As he prepared a pot of coffee, Roy started to write out a list for groceries, knowing Danny wouldn’t be much help in his meal-planning anyway. He had essentially nothing in the pantry or refrigerator - except for an almost empty pizza box, which Roy certainly hadn’t been responsible for. After a peek in the trash can, his suspicions were confirmed. Danny had been purely living off of take-out for the whole time he’d been here.
Roy finished his list and his first mug of coffee without even a stir from the bedroom where he’d left Danny. He poured another mug and set about the rest of his errands before he found himself back in the bedroom. There were probably still a few other things he could do to keep occupied but he’d much rather attempt to wake up the sleeping mermaid in his bed.
Perching on the edge of the mattress, he paused for a moment to watch Danny. His hair was longer than Roy had seen in a while but he was pleased to see that Danny looked good, like he was eating and sleeping enough. Doing all the things Roy usually worried about Danny neglecting in favour of more exciting parts of life. He placed his mug on the bedside table - namely his own bedside table since Danny always rolled onto Roy’s side once he was out of bed, ignoring the way his whole body warmed to the fact.
“Angel, it’s time to wake up.”
Reaching to stroke Danny’s hair, Roy waited until he started to stir. Sometimes it was like pulling teeth to get Danny out of bed, especially if he wasn’t ready to get up yet, which he was rarely before noon.
“Don’t wanna.”
Somewhat expecting that response, Roy kept running his hand through Danny’s hair, eventually feeling him lean into the touch.
“Don’t you want to come to the store with me? Maybe get a vegetable or two into you for the first time in two weeks?”
Danny had apparently woken up enough to grin lazily up at Roy, who rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what joke he was hinting at.
“Shut up, bitch. Get in the shower and get ready to go.”
Roy began to stand but was quickly brought back down again in a move he should have anticipated from Danny. It really had been too long since they’d seen one another, he was getting rusty.
He had more or less been pulled on top of Danny so he relaxed into it, supporting most of his weight but still leaning to rest his forehead against Danny’s.
“Can I help you?”
“Yup.”
The slight tilt forward of Danny’s chin and the cocky grin on his lips was enough of an answer and Roy didn’t hesitate in closing the small gap to press his lips against Danny’s in the first kiss they’d shared since reuniting the night before.
Their physical relationship had never trumped their friendship, never at the forefront of their interactions. It was just something that had developed naturally between them, their closeness resulting in a tantalizing pull that they had eventually given in to. It was at the expense of nothing though, both of them vowing to be honest about their feelings and that their friendship would never suffer. There were no expectations other than clear communication between them and it had been that way for years now. They were in no way exclusive but they always updated each other if there was something or more importantly, someone new on the scene and as much as neither of them were ready to admit, they were a constant for each other. What they always came back to when they needed something more.
It had seemed complicated when they tried, once, to explain it to Courtney but it was the furthest from complicated. It was just how they were.
Roy didn’t realise how much he’d missed it though, how much in this moment he felt like he needed the press of Danny’s lips against his own more than anything else. They’d both been busy, so busy the past few months and it had been hard to match up both of their sparing free time. The last time they’d seen each other was when Roy flew Danny out to where he’d been on tour and had a rare weekend off - a weekend they spent in a luxurious hotel, wrapped up in one another, spending way too much money on room service to avoid the outside world.
Now, nothing in the outside world was even functioning for them to go out even if they wanted to.
Before the kiss could turn into some other kind of reunion, Roy pulled back. He nudged their noses together, in a show of affection few had yet to see from him, to stop Danny’s complaints at the separation.
“I know, I know. Good morning to you too. Now go brush your teeth because if I have to kiss you again with that breath-”
Danny’s lips stopped his joke right in its tracks and despite his warning, Roy made no move to pull away again.
-
Danny felt ridiculous. He’d mostly kept his mouth shut though, after he caught Roy’s eye just before they’d left the house. Roy looked nervous. So Danny had quit the jokes and let Roy put gloves and face masks on the both of them.
It wasn’t until they got to the supermarket that Danny started to understand.
People were panicking.
He’d been reading the news on his phone and keeping up to date on things. That was nothing compared to seeing it unfold in front of him. He had been holed up at Roy’s house for weeks now and hadn’t witnessed any of the panic first hand.
Danny felt a pang of sympathy when he realised how much worse this would have been at an airport and what Roy had obviously gone through the past few days.
With a glance at how white Roy’s knuckles had turned from how tightly he was gripping his shopping list, he could tell Roy was thinking about it too so Danny slipped his hand casually into Roy’s, twining their fingers together.
“So, ice cream aisle first?”
He tossed a grin back at Roy, only half joking. He really did want at least a few tubs of ice cream to take home but mostly, he wanted Roy to smile back at him. It took a second but eventually Roy scoffed.
“Of course you’re thinking about fucking ice cream right now. Is your brain not part chocolate fudge brownie by now?”
And things were back to normal, or as normal as they could be right now, as Danny was pulled through the aisles hand-in-hand with Roy, dutifully holding the basket and pressing up against Roy’s side as he paid.
Danny was kind of known for being the basket case out of the two of them. Always the one who was in a mess or more commonly, was the mess himself who Roy was always there for. It wasn’t as common that Danny got to do the same for Roy, to be the support system or the pillar holding him up. Danny could see the anxiety bubbling just under the surface since Roy had gotten home yesterday and the tiredness that had gathered under Roy’s eyes though and without Roy saying it, Danny felt needed.
They didn’t have to discuss the fact that this trip was going to be a once-off thing. Any other groceries they needed, were going to be delivered from here on out. He also didn’t mention the fact that he watched Roy put three pints of ice cream in their basket when he thought Danny was distracted.
-
“What do you want to do today?”
Roy glanced over the top of his newspaper at Danny, who had draped his whole body across Roy’s legs, dangerously close to dangling off the edge of the couch. They’d already started their day with laying in bed far longer than Roy usually preferred to so he was trying to continue his usual morning routine, catching up on the world over a cup of coffee. The question was unexpected since they hadn’t really planned anything except meals.
“What do you want to do?”
“Bake.”
Roy faltered. He didn’t know what he was expecting to hear but it certainly wasn’t that and it must have shown on his face since Danny was tossing his head back in a laugh only a second later.
“Bake! Not get baked. Well, I mean I would love to but-”
“Yeah, yeah we know. Pipe down, Laganja Estranga.”
“Seriously, I’ve been seeing all this shit about banana bread and fancy ass cakes. I want to bake something.”
“Do you even know how to bake? You don’t really strike me as the Easy Bake oven kind of gal.”
“Well…no. But surely you do! That’s what grandmas do best, isn’t it?”
Roy abandoned his article in favour of rolling up the newspaper to hit Danny with it in retaliation. Before it turned into a full-on war, he sat up a little more and smiled down at Danny, amusement written all over his face.
“Alright, Martha Stewart. Let’s go bake.”
-
His kitchen was a disaster.
Roy took a moment to glance around. There was flour all over the island counter and the iPad Danny had set the recipe up on. The carton of milk was open on the bench, a puddle all around it. Roy had given up early on trying to clean up after Danny because he insisted on Roy being right next to him for every step.
Contrary to what Danny assumed, Roy didn’t know a damn thing about baking. He could cook well enough, sure. But cakes? Not exactly his forte. Not even on a basic level. So it was basically the blind leading the blind as Danny bounced around his kitchen, pulling out more than what Roy thought they actually needed to make a cake.
Standing on his toes to peer over Danny’s shoulder, Roy raised an eyebrow. “I really don’t think that’s how it’s supposed to look.”
It wasn’t the first time Roy had mentioned it but the more they added and stirred into it, the worse it was looking. Danny had defended it a few times, calling it an ‘unconventional kind of pretty’ or just mumbling incoherently to himself and going back to the recipe.
This time, Danny slumped back into Roy and sighed.
“Want to go have a shower instead?”
Roy’s hands were already up the back of Danny’s shirt, dragging the material up his chest before Danny was even finished speaking.
-
“Wake up.”
Roy nudged Danny again, sighing as Danny rolled further away from him again, snuggling deeper into the pillow.
“Adore, it’s time to wake up. There’s coffee,” he tempted, avoiding the arm that was flung out towards him to no doubt try and lure him back to bed.
Danny’s grumbling made him snicker but he knew he was fighting a losing battle. Placing the mug of coffee safely out of the danger zone of Danny’s still searching arm, he eventually let himself be pulled back to bed.
Roy didn’t let Danny settle into the little spoon position like he was trying to and instead nudged against Danny’s hip until he rolled onto his back. Settling so that he was straddling Danny’s thighs, Roy let his fingers trace across the soft skin above the waistband of Danny’s thong.
Danny made a low hum but still made no move to open his eyes.
“Come on, you sleepy chola. I want to organise the drag room today.”
Roy watched Danny’s face fall into a displeased pout and rolled his eyes.
“If you get up now, I’ll let you try on stuff as we go along.”
“Anything I want?”
Danny finally opened one eye to peer at Roy, almost like he needed the visual confirmation.
“Within reason.”
“No deal.” Danny turned his head dramatically to the side, his hair falling across most of his face. Roy sighed as he started to gently push it back to see him.
“What are you thinking? Because I’m telling you baby, that season seven finale dress wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. I was washing off glitter for a whole week.”
“Doesn’t matter. Don’t want to anymore.”
“I want you to do it with me. And I need you to reach the stuff on the high shelves.”
Roy wasn’t expecting Danny to sit up suddenly with Roy still in his lap. He quickly grabbed onto Danny’s shoulders to steady himself and raised his eyebrows in question.
“You’re so tiny.” Danny laughed, rubbing his faces into Roy’s chest, arms looping around his waist.
“You’re lucky you look so damn young when you first wake up. Even I can’t be mean to an infant.”
Roy’s actions said it was more so that Danny looked cute when he first woke up with his sleep mussed hair and stupid tired smile as he kept combing his fingers through Danny’s long hair.
“If you rip any of my dresses, I reserve the right to cut up one of your wigs. Though in your case, I might be doing you a favour.”
“Shut up, yanx. Need coffee first.”
-
Roy was running a brush carefully through one of Bianca’s wigs, the last one he had left before they were all neatly aligned on the shelf. He had set Danny up with his jewelry, trusting that he could stick to the usual color coordinated organisation Roy used.
Danny had on one of Bianca’s dresses, one Bianca hadn’t worn in a long time. Getting it on Danny’s frame, when there was no cinched waist and their different heights, was a bit of a struggle that almost ended in a split seam. Not particularly because the dress was too small but mostly that they were both laughing so much through the process.
It was worth it in the end though because for the last hour, every time Roy glanced over to check Danny’s progress and caught sight of his concentrated stare, he started cackling again. There wasn’t a trace of make-up on Danny’s face, his hair was still messily skewed from sleep, and the dress was so out of place with his bare feet and casual slouch over the desk, which all added to the illusion.
The dress was far from Adore’s usual style but it was the closest Bianca had in her closet. Danny still looked great in it, which Roy had told him at least twice already.
“You miss getting into drag?”
Placing the last wig onto the mannequin and sliding it in place, Roy spun his chair to face Danny. Neither of them had been in drag since Roy had come home, for weeks now.
It had been years of painting Bianca’s face almost every day. Whether it was five times a week for shows in clubs or later, to sold out tours.
It was the longest in a long time that he hadn’t been Bianca and he was curious if Danny was feeling the same reminiscence.
“Yeah, Adore always has so much fun.”
Danny pouted and Roy met it with a scoff but he was relieved to hear that he wasn’t alone in his feelings. He should probably be more grateful for the time off - it was no secret he was getting older so travelling constantly for tours was hard and makeup was harsher and harsher on his skin. Bianca came alive on stage though, releasing a part of Roy that loved to perform. For himself, for the crowd.
There was such a stark contrast between his drag and Danny’s but they shared that same love of performing, the freedom of being on a stage with a microphone in their hands.
“I’m only telling you this because I know you’ll never be able to prove it even if you do blab but I don’t even really miss the insults or the jokes that much. I do a little because it’s getting old having to think of new material for you but mostly…I miss seeing Bianca’s face.”
Turning back slightly to look at his reflection, Roy sighed. He noticed his age taking its toll on his face. The laugh lines that had deepened in the last few years and the new wrinkles in his forehead. It was all things he never noticed as Bianca, just how dramatic her eye makeup was and if her wig was straight.
“Jesus Christ, it turns out everyone was right. The quarantine is making people go insane.”
It wasn’t a good joke but it was an attempt to lighten the mood from where the conversation had gone, from where his thoughts had taken him. He heard the jewelry drawers close and the wheels of the chair as Danny rolled to a stop just behind him. It was obvious Danny had seen right through the joke and heard the truth in Roy’s voice, read the expression on his face.
“Why don’t we then?” Danny asked, closing the last drawer of jewelry and rolling his chair over to Roy’s, bumping them together and peering over his shoulder to meet his gaze in the reflection of the mirror.
“Why don’t we what? Get institutionalised together?”
“No. Get into drag!”
Turning to fully face Danny, Roy raised an eyebrow at him. Danny barely took note of it though, already having made up his mind that this was happening.
“Party,” Roy drawled out sarcastically, though it was an underlying agreement to Danny’s offer. Danny laughed and kissed Roy’s cheek before he was running off - as well as he could in Bianca’s form fitting long dress, supposedly to get his suitcase from Roy’s bedroom.
-
An hour and a half later and the drag room wasn’t in quite as good shape as it was intended to be after spending the better portion of the day organising it.
But there they both were - Bianca and Adore. Adore had forgone Bianca’s dress in favour of a tight short skirt that Bianca had no idea how she could be comfortable in, while Bianca slipped familiarly into one of her favourite dresses.
Now they stood next to each other in front of the full-length mirror after putting on their final touches and Bianca snapped. She started laughing, a chuckle she tried to stifle at the start but eventually succumbed to her usual cackle.
“What? I even brushed out my wig.” Adore looked confused, watching as Bianca came unravelled.
“We…we just got fully into drag. I cinched your waist and we’re wearing heels and I tucked….and…we’re not going anywhere!” Bianca’s explanation came out between fits of laughing.
“Fuck willow, I thought you could see my dick out of the bottom of my skirt or something.”
It had been Adore’s idea but it came from Bianca’s want so they were both to blame. In the middle of a quarantine, with nowhere to go and no one to see, two grown men got fully made up into their best absolute best drag. It was utterly ridiculous to her and she was shaking her head against Adore’s shoulder as she tried to contain herself.
Adore had started to giggle along herself though and eventually, they were leaning into each other.
“Come on B, surely this is an excuse to break out your rich lady wine. We can’t go out but it can still be a party.”
Accepting that the quarantine had absolutely gotten to their heads, Bianca agreed with Adore and pulled them both along to the kitchen.
-
“I can’t believe they let her get away with this shit. Hello bitch, we’re on the fifth challenge here!”
Adore was covering her mouth to stifle her laughter as she listened to Bianca’s commentary. Neither of them knew how they had ended up here but somewhere between the first and third bottle of wine, they’d come up with the idea of watching their season premiere. That was nearly six episodes ago and they were still sitting on Bianca’s couch, both their shoes long since abandoned and kicked away, their bare feet on the coffee table.
Sober Roy would be mad at their mess but drunk Bianca had long since given up her inhibitions. That’s when the commentary came in. If Adore didn’t know better, she would be recording it. The reads were some of Bianca’s best work and had her in fits of giggles, tucked into Bianca’s side.
“I’m surprised they didn’t just make us the top three right here. God, it’s barely even a competition at this point.”
“Shut up, you love all those bitches.”
Bianca glanced to Adore, clearly ready to argue but softened once she caught the way Adore had turned to look at her. She had relaxed into the back of the couch, head turned sideways to look up at Bianca. The buzz of the wine had gotten to Adore but not in a way that made her want to dance on the table, rather in the way to sit back and enjoy tingles that were running across her body.
Letting herself relax enough to mirror Adore’s position, Bianca tilted her head towards Adore’s.
“You’re my favourite though. Don’t tell Court.”
“She totally already knows it. All those times she found me in your bunk on the tour or when she had to share a hotel room with Darienne because we were always together.”
Both of them grinning fondly at the memories, Bianca lifted her mostly empty wine glass up and waited until Adore did the same.
“Happy quarantine, Adore.”
“Cheers to that, Bianca.”
-
“Want to trade-”
“No.”
“Why, yanx? I’ll give you more money than it’s worth!”
“And this is why our world’s economy is shot. Your generation is in charge of it now.”
Roy shook his head, continuing to glare at the board, deep in thought like he had been for nearly five minutes now.
Danny has all but given up hopes for finishing their game and was lying on his stomach to pat Sammy and Dede while Roy was deliberating.
It had been Danny’s idea to endure their hangovers with a board game, found deep in Roy’s closet. After teasing Roy about how this edition of monopoly surely came out before he was even born, they set it up on the coffee table. It had started out as harmless, mindless fun but Roy was competitive and all his moves were thought out and calculated, which put him further ahead in the game than Danny who seemed to have a mere twenty-five dollars left.
“You have to be cheating.”
“You’re the banker. There’s no way for me to cheat when you control all the money!”
“Well then the game is rigged.”
“Or you’re just a sore loser.”
Danny made a grunt of complaint but didn’t say anymore. Roy finally took his turn, putting another hotel on one of his properties and pushing the dice towards Danny.
Sitting up to roll the dice, Danny rolled and started to move the small silver tophat. He groaned loudly as he came to a stop on one of Roy’s properties. The one he had just upgraded with a hotel. Danny covered his face, groaning as Roy cackled in glee.
“Alright, come on.”
Danny stood up with a huff, turning towards the bedroom.
“What? We’re right in the middle of the game.”
“Yeah, I know. Come on, I have to clear my debt and then beat your ass.”
“Clear your debt? You’re not gonna find any Monopoly money in there.”
“Nope, I’m gonna suck your dick and we’ll be square.”
Danny’s bluntness nearly had Roy’s jaw on the floor. Lucky he had years as a performer meant that his facial expressions were trained and he quickly got a hold of himself.
“It’s just a game, queen. We don’t have to keep playing-”
“I want to.”
Every time they were intimate, Roy always wanted to make sure Danny was sure. That what they were doing was mutual and positive for both of them. Years behind them had made him more confident in initiating, whereas at the start he left it all to Danny. That had led to problems in itself and it began clear to him that Danny wanted to feel wanted as well.
He didn’t need anymore confirmation before he was following but it was Roy who was pressing Danny down into the sheets, his lips mapping their way down the dip of Danny’s hip.
-
Days later, inspiration had struck Roy the night before and he got out his sketchbook. The next morning, he didn’t disturb Danny as he took solace in the drag room. His sketches were pinned up where he could glance up at them as he ran material through the sewing machine. He was lost in thoughts of pins and thread, so much so that he didn’t take note of Danny pushing open the door until he felt the weight of Danny’s head laying against his shoulder.
“Whatcha making?”
“A dress.”
Danny breathed out a laugh. Roy was just happy that years of his dry, harsh humour was still enough to warrant a laugh from Danny. He didn’t mean to be blunt though so he continued.
“I don’t really know what it’s for but it’s been a while since I’ve made anything.”
It’s been a long time since Roy had been home long enough to sketch out and then craft an entire dress is what he meant and Danny read through the lines.
“It’s pretty.”
Danny looked up at the sketch of what Roy was making, remembering the few times they’d tried to teach Danny how to use the sewing machine, especially right before he was set to return to the competition for All Stars. It had never gone well, with Danny usually ending up frustrated at himself, despite Roy’s seemingly endless patience.
“Do you mind if I come in here to write?”
Neither of them had been doing anything exactly productive. The past few weeks had been all lazy days of movies on the couch, cuddling and playing with the dogs and then catching up on the newest season of Drag Race. Danny hadn’t been writing any music and Roy was left in his own limbo because while the lockdown laws were in place, his tour was cancelled until further notice.
It was a welcome surprise to hear that Danny seemed to be inspired or at least motivated enough to try to be. Roy took his foot off the pedal and turned back just enough to kiss the top of Danny’s head.
“Yeah, baby.”
-
Hours later, Roy had a mostly finished dress on his mannequin and Danny was still humming under his breath, tapping a pen against his notebook to a rhythm only he could imagine.
Roy was on his knees to put the finishing touches on the hem of the dress when Danny made a sudden noise of revelation.
“I’ve done it! I finally finished this fucking song.”
Danny dropped the notebook dramatically to the floor but the smile on his face was contagious. Roy let his hands fall to his lap as his attention shifted.
“Yeah? That’s great, bitch. You going to sing it for me?”
Embarrassment flushed Danny’s cheeks and he began to look more nervous than relieved. He shook his head.
“No. This won’t even be the finished product on the album after I record it.”
“So? I wanna hear it exactly the way you wrote it.”
Danny started to tuck his chin and Roy pushed up to his feet, closing the distance between them. He tucked a finger under Danny’s jaw to coax his gaze up.
“I’m not going to force you or anything but everything you were humming before sounded really great.”
Roy had always been full of praise for Danny. He was the first to offer constructive criticism when needed but he had come to respect everything Danny produced. It wasn’t the same as his own art, their drags were polar opposite and their outlets were as well. He knew that Adore didn’t look nearly as polished as some of the other drag queens in their circle but there was reason and purpose behind them and moreso, passion. Roy saw Danny’s passion shining through everything he did, as himself or Adore. That’s what changed his mind about Adore during their season and something he still loved most about Danny to this day.
“Ok but only so that you know what song is about you when you listen to the album and plug it on all your socials.”
“Wait, it’s about me?”
Despite Danny’s response trying to feign some confidence, he turned red again. He didn’t try to break their eye contact again though as he shrugged at Roy.
“Yeah, kinda. Some parts of it, for sure. You were totally my muse today, watching you concentrate so hard and work on something that you could have paid someone else to do. You’re a fierce ass bitch and I love you.”
Not expecting the long-winded answer, Roy let it sink in before he responded.
“I love you too.”
It wasn’t often that Roy wasn’t quick witted or responding with his usual sharp tongue. There were moments for it though and he could read Danny enough to know he was feeling vulnerable with the confession so this definitely wasn’t the time.
He sunk onto the floor where Danny had sat most of the day, alternating between laying on his stomach or his back or sitting in other positions that Roy wanted to make a snip about their age difference about. His old man bones still allowed him to bend his knees enough to sit cross-legged in front of Danny. When they were at the same eye level, he smiled at Danny and took his hand to play idly with his fingers.
“And when this next album comes out, you come over again and I’ll make you anything you want to wear for the first time you perform it. Promise to even cut up the shirt for your aesthetic.”
Spoken with none of his usual bite, Roy softened his voice as much as he could. The gravelly tone couldn’t be helped - thanks God, but he had practically melted at Danny’s feet at this point. It was the biggest compliment he’d gotten, some of Danny’s art, the closest and most precious thing to his heart and he’d let Roy into it.
“Thanks, B. You’re the best willow.”
Roy accepted the embrace as soon as Danny started to lean into it, wrapping up Danny in a tight hug, their cheeks pressed against each other.
They sat like that for a long time, holding each other on the floor. It was a moment Roy didn’t want to end, despite the twinge he was starting to feel low in his back from the way he was leaning or how cold the floor was on his bare legs. None of that mattered for right now. Not while they were embraced like this, speaking volumes with the intimacy they were sharing. Eventually, when Roy didn’t feel like breaking the silence between them would shatter the moment, he cleared his throat.
“Come on, I’m about to need a hip replacement if we stay like this any longer and I want to hear this song of yours.”
-
Unfortunately, the little bubble they had been in was eventually burst. Roy had gotten a few emails about live streams and videos, apparently posting on social media once every few days wasn’t enough and he had to get back to work. From his garage. He couldn’t think of anything worse.
He’d have his fellow queens to bounce off but that was nothing compared to audience interaction or a crowd he could read.
Still, he painted his face into Bianca and put on a flowy tunic top but in a show of rebellion that no one but he and Danny knew about, refused to wear anything other than sweats and his slippers on his lower half as Bianca sat down. Danny watched from the doorway, off the view of the camera, smiling at Bianca over a mug of coffee as the timer counted down and then she was live.
It was easy enough to settle into Bianca again, especially with Lady Bunny to banter with but this felt weird. Bianca was acutely aware that Danny was watching, listening to the audio from the other queens but Danny’s watchful eyes aren’t what had Bianca uncomfortable.
As soon as it was over, Roy texted his manager to let him know Bianca wouldn’t be doing anything else like this, if he could avoid it. He missed being Bianca but not like this. Roy didn’t blame the other queens he saw posting these videos, he didn’t judge Danny for the short video he made of Adore singing for the digital DragCon. It just didn’t feel like performing to him but he knew people still needed to make a living. He was just thankful that at this point in his career, he wasn’t stressed about that just yet.
When Danny approached him, reaching under the top of Bianca’s shirt to start rubbing Roy’s shoulders, he finally started to relax again. Knowing he didn’t have to explain the tension that was there, he simply sighed and leaned back into Danny. This was the first time he wished that this was all over, that things could go back to normal in the world.
-
The next night, after they had retreated to the bedroom for the night and they were both lying in bed, scrolling on their respective screens, Roy sighed. He put his phone down and turned to lay on his side, waiting till Danny mimicked the actions and their legs were laced together.
His mind was circling and had been since the filming yesterday. He was tired. Tired of the traveling and Bianca’s shows night after night. He still had a passion for performing but he worked hard, harder than almost anybody he knew but it was taking its toll on him and yesterday had proved it to him. He could barely bring himself to set up a video camera to be Bianca. It hadn’t come from a place of not wanting to be her anymore but an exhaustion. This lockdown had been a break, despite how much he missed Bianca but it hadn’t been enough just yet.
“The best thing about this whole lockdown has been having you here, you know.”
“Yeah, imagine all the crazy lady cleaning you’d be doing every day if I weren’t here.”
“I meant it, Danny.”
At the sound of his name, the rarest thing to ever come from Roy’s mouth which was a habit grown from spending so much time together as their drag personas, Danny grew as serious as Roy clearly was.
“I know, I mean it too. You’ve kept me from going totally crazy or off the rails in all this and I really missed you before it all happened.”
“Me too, queen. I want to go back to work really badly but I want this even more.”
Roy squeezed them impossibly closer, as if Danny could really confuse what he meant by this. He was fighting all his natural urges to zip his mouth up and stop talking by reminding himself that this was Danny. Someone who had never undermined Roy’s thoughts or made him feel bad for something he was feeling, especially when it was from a place of vulnerability.
“I do too, yanx. I promise, even when all this is over, we’ll be better. We’ll make more time for each other again.”
Danny emphasised his point by pressing his forehead to Roy’s, meeting him halfway onto the pillow they were sharing.
“I wish we’d never stopped.”
“Work sucks, hey? Sometimes I wish we were on Drag Race again and just down the hall from each other in a hotel or in the same tour bus.”
Roy nodded his agreement but he was satisfied by the fact that Danny felt the same way, his anxieties about what would happen with them again after this was all over and Danny went home momentarily quelled. It was a classic Roy move to panic over something that wasn’t even in the works of happening yet but Danny knew him well enough to know how to deal with it by now. Closing his eyes and finally feeling content again, Roy was happy to let the conversation come to an end but Danny spoke again.
“We’re going to be here for at least another month here though, at least that’s what everyone’s saying. So we still get to have the best Bianca and Adore staycation ever. We have Sammy and Dede and so much of your rich lady wine, plus no shows to rush across the world to do or albums to record-”
Roy cut Danny off with a kiss. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hear it, just that it was the best thing he’d heard. He couldn’t help himself from closing the distance between them, his hands fisting in Danny’s tank top.
“Just you and me?”
Roy barely recognised his own voice, small and full of a humility that he or Bianca never usually possessed. It faded into a quiet but strong feeling of confidence as Danny confirmed,
Summary - part of the Summer Lovin’ challenge for the prompt bathing suit. What might have happened if Bianca and Adore were paired up for the swimsuit challenge in season 6.
A/N - I’ve just done another rewatch of my absolute fav season of Drag Race (thanks corona for all the spare time I’ve had) and I’m just honestly obsessed with these two. I couldn’t help but be inspired by some of my favourite of their moments and the idea of them being friends early on!
-
“I want you to pair up with a queen who was not in your original group."
Now it made sense to Roy the way the production team had carefully arranged them in the workroom that morning. A glance to either side of him was enough to confirm, the lineup was alternating the queens from the two groups and from the expecting grin on RuPaul’s face, it was intended to throw them off.
Some of the pairings made sounds of approval, a few air kisses exchanged and the clasp of hands.
He turned to his right and came face-to-face with one of the younger queens. Not his first choice but it wasn’t really Danny’s fault in particular. Roy was bound to be doubtful of any of the queens he hadn’t worked with yet - it was in his nature to question everybody until he saw for himself what they could do. Especially when his success was relying partly on them as well.
Responding to Danny’s exaggerated look of hesitancy as he stepped closer to affirm them as a team, Roy sideyed Danny. He looked him up and down once before turning back to listen to their rest of their instructions, figuring that would be enough for the cameras. He just hoped it would be used as a foreshadowing in the edit because their unlikely pairing had won them the challenge rather than the alternative.
“…combine bodies to create one lip syncing, bikini wearing bathing beauty.”
Despite Roy’s uncertainty about his partner, he was amused by the challenge. It sure as hell beat trying to look sexy with feathers stuck to Bianca’s lipstick. At least he could bring humour into this.
“Go!”
Once the initial rush of twelve grown men shoving and grabbing for their choice of swimwear, which was about as pleasant as it sounded, Roy took his findings back to his station.
He’d managed to snag a one-piece bathing suit and a sheer cover-up - neither of which he would have had in the suitcases he’d packed, hardly something Bianca would ever perform in. After rifling through one of his bags, he pulled out a floppy hat and large flower that he could pin on his front to hide the fact that he wouldn’t have time to fashion Bianca’s usual chest.
Quick drag was never something he chose to do - not when he painted Bianca’s face the way he did or with how precise he liked his drag to be. Always tucked neat and tightly, Bianca’s curves cinched and padded to the now familiar figure, never a hair out of place or signature bold makeup smudged.
Before he got started on the transition into Bianca, his eyes sought out another’s from across the room. Once Danny met his gaze, Roy tilted his head slightly in invitation.
“So just based on first impressions, you don’t exactly strike me as a top, queen.”
Before his words could leave a sting, Roy was continuing, gesturing to Danny as he spoke now that he was standing in front of him.
“Plus, we can do a lot more with those legs than my stumps. Work for you?”
Danny nodded, seemingly either too startled or intimidated by Roy’s unquestionable authority to verbally respond. It wasn’t personal, nor intended to be rude on Roy’s behalf. He was used to a time crunch, not usually as pressing as this one but he was a hit the ground running kind of person to begin with.
It seemed though that Danny wasn’t totally acting for the cameras earlier if his current apprehension was anything to go off. Roy wasn’t heartless though, no one should be scared of him, so he dropped his voice a little and relaxed his position from where he had tensed from the urgency of the challenge.
“Great, do what you need to do and meet me back here so we can plan something out? It’s going to take the rest of these bitches that long just to get made up.”
“Party.”
Settling for a roll of his eyes and stubbornly denying the small tug at the corners of his lips at the response, Roy got to work as Danny left his station grinning. It was easier to work together if Danny wasn’t too busy tiptoeing around him, Roy told himself.
Just as Bianca pulled her bangs into the right position and secured them with a pin, Adore was sidling up to her chair, steeled with a new confidence.
“So, I have an idea.”
-
After Danny’s initial panic about working with Roy, the queen already having a reputation for reading their fellow competitors to filth, there came the panic of the challenge.
Adore barely tucked on a good day, let alone well enough to have her crotch on full display.
It was a partner challenge though and after Roy had taken the reins on their team, Danny knew there were expectations for him to meet for someone other than himself now. He only partially understood the reputation proceeding Bianca. She was sharp-tongued there was no doubt about it but who could blame a bitch for being blunt?
He’d approached Roy at Bianca’s station with a hint of hesitancy but walked away optimistic. More importantly, he walked away with a clear head.
Known for being eccentric and impulsive in his behaviour, Danny found it hard to stay focused. Determined, yes but organising all his creative thoughts was something he struggled with. Roy’s assertiveness had allowed Danny to direct his attention without any of the struggle.
Sharing a grin with Laganja in their shared work space, he ignored the way Laganja was trying to catch his gaze. It would no doubt be about his pairing, Laganja whispering in Adore’s ear just yesterday about how scary Bianca seemed after the warning snapped at Gia almost as soon as they’d met. Danny didn’t have the time right now though, almost able to hear seconds ticking away from them before they had to be ready.
Never one to be shy, Danny dropped his pants and reached for his rarely used tape and got to work. He could hear everyone else working in a fluster around him and usually, he would be the kind to be poking his head around and cracking jokes. It was their first challenge as a full group and he wanted to make an impression on Ru and the other queens.
Once he was tucked, tighter than he had been in a long time, he reached for the swimsuit. Danny had grabbed a bright matching bikini and pulled on the bottoms, making sure he looked as flat as he could down there. After a moment of hesitation, he grinned and put the top on as well, covering his flat chest and tugging a crop top on over the top. It wasn’t like anybody was going to see his top half during the challenge but it was very on brand for Adore.
Grateful he’d recently shaved his legs and painted his toes, he slipped his feet into strappy heels that he had to lace a little up his calves. It didn’t totally make sense for a beach but after a glance over at Bianca and her outfit, he decided it matched enough for what he had in mind for their performance.
Grabbing a heart shaped pair of glasses that were left on the table of offerings, Adore grinned and continued on to Bianca’s work space.
“So I have an idea.” She held out the glasses. “And I thought these might save you some time.”
-
Standing next to Adore as they waited for their turn, Bianca laughed at Courtney and Laganja’s rehearsed joke. Once they were motioned for their tone, she took the towels from a member of the pit crew and led their way into the sandpit.
She let Adore lay down first, watching as she shifted around in discomfort. She was expecting it though, having watched a few more pairs go before them.
“Here.” She folded up one of the towels and handed it over to Adore who looked cluelessly up at her. “Use it as a pillow, fuck getting sand in your ass and your hair.”
Once Adore laid back seemingly more comfortably, Bianca moved into position but glanced back before she lowered herself to sit on Adore’s stomach.
“Alright back there?”
“I’m good.”
Bianca nodded and lowered onto her knees, supporting her weight entirely on her legs with her legs spread as wide as she could so Adore had enough room for movement.
“Still good?”
She watched Adore hesitate for a moment before shuffling down a little more and reaching for Bianca’s hips, assuring her hands would be out of the sight for those looking front on.
“For leverage, so I can move my body.”
Adore’s explanation was drawn out in a tone Bianca couldn’t quite put her finger on who it was an impression of but she chuckled nonetheless before taking it as confirmation that they were ready and she could settle the rest of the towels around them. Once she was satisfied they were fitting the illusion, she was nodding that they were ready to start the song.
-
“And the winners of the mini challenge are…Adore and Bianca!”
Bianca let Adore press against her side for their victory shot, her arm raising to wrap around Adore’s shoulders for a quick squeeze as they shared an equally surprised and pleased look.
Their win had come slightly as a shock. They had done well but after watching Courtney’s facial expressions and the man-handling of Laganja’s legs which was hilarious, Bianca’s confidence in her own pairing had lessened. Apparently Bianca’s comedic take on Adore’s burlesque style show with her legs had bumped them over though and she certainly wasn’t complaining.
She wasn’t expecting Adore to return to her station so quickly or with specific ideas for their lip sync. The sunglasses had been a save as well, allowing them an extra five minutes of planning out their performance which was another tick for Adore in Bianca’s mental checklist. Overall, she had been impressed.
Their victory didn’t last long though because soon enough they were separated and picking queens for teams to work against one another as captains for the maxi challenge.
-
“So would you pick from the other team to work with?”
“Bianca.”
Adore didn’t have to think twice before answering the question directed to her once they were in the untucked lounge. She hadn’t gone well in the filming challenge, far too in her own head to concentrate on her lines. She’d bombed the runway as well, getting more critiques than compliments on her look. It had shaken her confidence and she was embarrassed, especially after winning the mini challenge with Bianca earlier that day.
Working with Bianca was a stark contrast than how the group challenge had gone. Having to follow a script had limited Adore’s creative ability and she felt stifled in her group, relying on all of them and none of them all at once.
She had no qualms about repeating her answer when the rest of the group joined them as well, asking what they’d missed out on.
“DeLa asked me who I’d want to work with from the other queens and I said you.”
“Wait, what’s your name again?”
Said with no bite, Adore laughed around her cocktail at Bianca’s response. Most of the other queens looked surprised but Courtney laughed as well, clearly seeing through Bianca’s tone or simply enjoying it enough that she didn’t care if it was said in jest or not.
Adore hadn’t been in good spirits since the runway, trapped in her own thoughts that were desperately battling against the voices in her head that were repeating the judges critiques, her own saying that she wasn’t good enough, the other queens from her group saying her leadership landed in the bottom. The rest of the group, Bianca especially who always seemed to radiate an authority over the room, was a welcome distraction.
“Like yeah she’s a bitch but she’s helpful as well. We killed the rest of you in the mini challenge and even though we’re both really big personalities and I thought we’d clash, it ended up working for us.”
Adore shrugged but she caught the rare smile Bianca sent her way before her expression changed, guarded again against the rest of their competitors.
“I’d choose Adore too if we had to pick someone to work with again.” Bianca pursed her lips before continuing. “I’d make out with her over Courtney again any day.”
After the expected returning quip from Courtney, the conversation shifted and Adore was grateful to take a backseat from the centre of attention. It was the first real challenge, against all the girls and she had disappointed herself. Her mind was racing again, self doubt rising up and forming a lump in her throat.
She had tuned out of the conversation so much so that only the couch dipping beside her as the rest of the queens stood up around her broke her from her thoughts. She mumbled a distracted ‘thanks’ to who was holding the curtain back for everyone before her but faltered when a black nailed hand curled around her arm and pulled her to a stop.
Face to face with Bianca, Adore swallowed thickly and let a small grin curl her lips.
“You trying to make out with me now? Because I don’t really think we have time.”
She was pleased to hear Bianca laugh as Adore referenced her earlier joke, quieter than her usual cackles but it felt even more genuine somehow.
“I just wanted to say not to take it too hard, kid.”
Adore considered arguing back, holding up a stronger front against someone who was supposed to be her competition. Someone who was her biggest competition especially.
It didn’t seem to be worth it though, not when Bianca had already seen straight through her. Not when Adore felt Bianca’s gaze on the side of her face rather than the screen as they watched their teams movies and her jaw was tight as she tried to shield how embarrassed she was on the runway.
“I…thanks Bianca.”
“Come on, let’s go see what these queens pull out their asses. Think Vivacious will attempt a death drop?”
Adore’s laughter followed them down the hallway, Bianca’s arm around her shoulders and her own around Bianca’s slim waist as they walked together and Adore felt lucky. Lucky that she seemed to have a friend, other than Laganja who seemed off and unrecognisable, and lucky that she had seemingly evaded Hurricane Bianca, for whatever reason Adore didn’t dare to question.
