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artificialqueens · 7 years

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TROIKA (Trixie/Alaska feat. Katya) Prologue/9- Spoky

A/N: In the end, it’s just RPF. @veronicasanders & @fryshook, cheers comrades.

Summary: You can’t choose who you fall in love with and sometimes it’s inconvenient; it’s challenging, cumbersome, difficult and pushes you in directions you previously thought impossible. This is a story about negotiating love when everything you thought you knew about family, relationships and sex proves to be insufficient.

TROIKA

“What happens if you fall in love with an individual, but that individual is more passive? He’s a bottom. And you’re also more passive. You’re a bottom. What you need to do is, break up . ‘Cause you know what you want, and you know how you want it, and you know that he’s not going to do it how you want it.”

- Willam Belli, 2013, 00:56-01:20

May, 2017

“Thank you,” Katya said as he stepped into the silver space.

“Not at all. Which floor?”

Katya glanced up from his mobile phone and smiled at the middle-aged woman who’d held the elevator, seeing him approaching.

“Top, thanks,” he said and smirked at his inner dialogue. Top, thanks. Not that many guys fought him on that one, not in West Hollywood anyway. Well, they hadn’t really fought him on it in Boston, either.

The woman nodded in response, pressed the button and sighed heavily as she leaned against the elevator wall, closing her eyes.

“Rough day?” Katya asked as he stuffed the mobile back into his pocket. The woman looked worn out, carrying three bags of groceries and a backpack that belonged to a Spiderman-fan.

“You could says so,” she said and chuckled through her nose.

Bing.

The elevator stopped at the second floor and a young, blonde girl jumped in through the slowly retreating doors.

“HA! Made it!” she announced victoriously, slightly out of breath and pointed at the woman with her index finger. She couldn’t have been older than six. Her hair was tied up to a messy ponytail that swung from side to side as she twirled around in the small space in her bright yellow glitter jellies. As she turned, she noticed Katya in the corner and got embarrassed. Shyly, she retreated next to the woman, who Katya guessed had to be the mother.

“Yes, to the second floor,” the woman said. “I thought you were supposed to beat me to the top?”

The elevator doors started to close slowly and the girl grabbed the spiderman backpack, throwing it sassily over her shoulder.

“No. I meant second,” she said and studied Katya discreetly through the mirror. The woman rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, clearly used to the child’s antics. “That’s a girl’s bracelet,” the girl said then, eyeing Katya’s wrist carefully as the elevator twitched to move again.

Katya glanced down at his wrist and chuckled. Trixie had forgotten the pink, plastic trinket into his car almost a month ago and he hadn’t had the chance to return it before today. He’d grabbed the thing from the backseat of his car before making his way to the apartment complex and decided to wear it, rather than stuff it into his backpack, thinking that the chances of him forgetting to return it were smaller that way. He fondled the jewellery affectionately, adjusting the lock against his pulse point and smiled at the girl.

“Yes, I guess it is,” he agreed.

“But you’re a boy,” the child said immediately, squinting her eyes as if trying to identify whether her gendering was accurate or not.

“Ethan,” the woman said emphatically and looked down at the child scoldingly.

The child, Ethan, pursed his lips together and crossed his arms across his chest, covering the flower print of his light purple t-shirt. He never stopped staring, though.

“I’m sorry,” the woman apologised Katya. “They’re very interested in gender.”

“No, it’s alright,” Katya grinned, looking at Ethan and feeling a tiny bit jealous of their freedom and confidence. He wished he’d grown up in a similarly progressive time, in a society where a third pronoun was a possibility, but things had been a little different thirty years ago. “You’re right, I am a boy,” Katya said to Ethan, “- but sometimes, I’m also a woman,” he added cryptically, as if letting Ethan into a secret.

Ethan looked at Katya skeptically at first but as the elevator binged for a sign that they’d reached their destination, they huffed as if coming to a conclusion.

“Yeah, I get that,” they said, nodding compassionately to Katya before storming out, their hands spread wide as if flying, their lips pushed forward to make convincing airplane sounds.

Katya turned to look at the woman, who was now staring at him openly.

“Thank you,” she said seriously. “They don’t get to meet a lot of adults like them.”

“No, thank you ,” Katya praised as they stepped to the hallway, hoping that the woman knew what he meant. Thank you for providing a safe space for a child like me, thank you for letting them be what they are, and most importantly, thank you for not being ashamed of them.

Katya nodded his goodbye as they parted ways and could still hear distant, cheerful airplane sounds echoing in the hallway as he paused behind Alaska’s door. Meeting Ethan had left him slightly unsettled and while he was excited for his meeting with Trixie and Alaska, somehow he felt unbalanced, as if something wasn’t quite right. He shook his head and knocked, determined that the feeling was fleeting, nothing that a cigarette couldn’t sort out. Luckily, it took Alaska just a moment to answer his summons.

“Hey girl!” Alaska greeted as he opened the front door and let Katya into the apartment.

Katya pulled the other man into a brief greeting hug, took notice of how good he smelled and took another exaggerated whiff as he squeezed the man closer.

“You smell divine! Just hold me as I dry hump your leg, would you?”

“You’re confusing me with Willam, again,” Alaska snorted, barely hiding his amusement as he slithered out of Katya’s arms. “But I’ll take a hello?” he added with a flirtatious tone and cocked his eyebrows suggestively at Katya over his shoulder as he led him further into the organised chaos he called home.

“Hello,” Katya drawled and grinned widely, eyeing around in Alaska’s apartment.

Unlike Delta Work’s notorious label as a messy queen, Alaska’s similar reputation had nothing to do with his behaviour on social media. The apartment was clean, but there was clutter on most surfaces: jewelry, makeup, photos, art, drag queen merchandise, post-it notes, postcards – some of which he’d clearly received through the post whilst others sat tightly in the protection of their plastic sleeves. Katya dropped his backpack on the couch, next to the embroidered pillow that read STUN in pine green, and turned to Alaska.

“Seriously though, dire nicotine deficiency, it’s either a cigarette or a panic attack. Choose wisely.”

Alaska chuckled and placed the mug Katya hadn’t noticed him holding on the coffee table.

“You know where the balco-”

Alaska’s sentence was cut short by a knock at the door.

“That’s Brian,” Alaska noted and turned to walk back to the front door, leaving Katya hovering next to the sofa, baffled. He couldn’t recall a single instance of Alaska referring to Trixie as Brian, not one, and yet, the name had rolled through Alaska’s lips with complete ease. The two must’ve gotten close while working on their project. The thought caused a tiny sting of jealousy in Katya’s lower abdomen, but he quickly buried it underneath other unimportant feelings and thoughts. After all, he was here now, they’d invited him over to talk about the project, there was no reason to feel left out. He took couple of steps to his right, for a better view of the hallway and the front door.

Katya followed with interest and slight confusion as Alaska opened the door with a rushed “Katya is here” instead of a “Hello” and let Trixie into the apartment. The pair nodded to each other but no hugs or verbal greetings were exchanged between them. It was odd, but Katya didn’t have time to analyse the interaction further as Trixie noticed him in the living room and rushed over.

“I thought you’d decided against transitioning, Mr. Dolezal,” Trixie mocked as he pulled Katya into a firm hug, sending him into round of giggles.

“Yes yes, against genital snippety-snappety,” Katya agreed enthusiastically, “but look at this skin!”

“Very Pocahontas,” Trixie nodded in approval. “I hope its spray tho’. I’ve put my money on lung cancer, not every fricking subtype of melanoma.”

Katya screamed and flung his fists in the air excitedly. He hadn’t seen Trixie in over three weeks and while they hadn’t stopped texting, being in the actual presence of his best friend felt somehow soothing. Katya’s socially constructed reality felt little more balanced, interesting and manageable in a close proximity to Tracy Martel. He still wanted his cigarette, though.

“Thanks for the reminder. I need a smoke break,” Katya announced, glancing at Alaska briefly for permission to use his balcony. “It’s the least I can do for Tracy’s retirement fund.”

“I’ll be sure to bring that up when they ask for a character reference.”

* *

Katya closed the balcony door behind him and took a seat at the rattan bench next to Trixie. The sun was starting to set, discreetly painting the sky with hues of orange over the still dominant baby blue. It was hot, though. One of the hottest days yet and Katya pulled at the collar of his t-shirt to stretch it out. The leg of his shorts was rubbing uncomfortably against his damp thigh and he felt momentarily jealous of Alaska, who didn’t seem too bothered by the heat in his white tank top and jeans.

“Kim never sweats,” Trixie chuckled. “It’s so weird. Once we were in New Orleans and I swear you could’ve cooked eggs on the sidewalk and this guy is just there, chilling, while the rest of us are on the verge of dehydration, smelling like rotten cabbage.”

“You trying to tell me something?” Katya asked, cocking his eyebrows as he lit his cigarette. The first inhale worked as a lasso that pulled most of Katya’s disoriented thoughts into a some type of, if not organised, then at least contained pile.

“I’m used to your rank,” Trixie brushed him off, spreading his legs wider as he slid slightly lower on the bench to get more comfortable. Katya couldn’t not to notice how his shorts got tighter at the crotch, trapping his dick into a very evident bulge.

“It’s genetic,” Alaska said, catching Katya’s attention.

Alaska was leaning to the balcony rail, his hands crossed over his chest loosely. The pose reminded Katya of Ethan in the elevator. The look that Alaska was giving him, though, Katya couldn’t place. It was curious and simultaneously somehow judgemental, criticising? Alaska glanced quickly at Trixie’s crotch and back to Katya, giving him a discreet but teasing smile. Katya just grinned, not even slightly embarrassed that he’d been caught appreciating Trixie’s current posture.

“Genetic?” Trixie asked, turning to look at Alaska.

“Yeah, like, I read somewhere that the Koreans have like, less sweat glands or something, so they don’t smell like the rest of us.”

“You’re kidding,” Katya snorted.

“No no, I’m not. Google it.”

“I’ll add it to the list of things to google the next time I’m having an existential crisis and need to make sure the world is actually relatively real,” Katya said through laughter before taking a long drag of his cigarette and inhaling deeply. He blew the smoke slowly up towards the ceiling and from the corner of his eye studied Alaska, who was smoking his cigarette in shallower breaths. Alaska’s style reminded Katya of the type you saw in some European movies where less than half of the smoke was inhaled after the initial drag while the rest was released in an extravagant puff. It was somehow sexier, maybe little extra, very drag. In conclusion, suited Alaska perfectly. “So, you guys wanna tell me about this project of yours?”

The relaxed atmosphere on the balcony shifted after the question. Trixie corrected his position to sit more straightforward while Alaska started to absentmindedly massage his shoulder. Katya glanced to Trixie whose gaze was directed at Alaska under his slightly wrinkled brows. He was rubbing his right index and middle finger against his thumb in small circles, a sign of which Katya recognised as Trixie’s subconscious habit while nervous. The pair was looking at each other in silence and Katya frowned. They had invited him over to talk about the project, but didn’t want to talk about it?

“I think I want a beer,” Alaska said suddenly and Trixie was quick to jump on the train.

“I think there are couple of Stellas in the fridge.”

The speed in which Trixie stood up and stepped towards the door made it obvious that he was trying to escape the situation. Katya was getting more confused by the second.

“It’s fine, I’ll get them,” Alaska drawled, stumped his half smoked cigarette into the ashtray and wiggled his way around Trixie to get to the balcony door.

There were two things that struck to Katya as the two competed in what seemed to be a race out of Katya’s uncomfortable presence and questions. One, Trixie seemed curiously knowledgeable about the alcohol contents of Alaska’s refrigerator and two, the ease in which Alaska opened the rainbow striped jar placed on the windowsill next to the balcony door told of a well internalised habit. Almost subconsciously Alaska had pushed aside the ceramic lid with his pinkie, grabbed one of the white balls between his index and middle finger like a Go stone and popped the thing into his mouth before leaving the balcony, not once even glancing at the jar itself as he had been staring at Trixie.

As Alaska disappeared inside, Trixie was left hovering in between the balcony door and his earlier seat and Katya couldn’t recall a time he’d ever witnessed Trixie quite as tense. Possibly in Australia when they’d almost gotten arrested? The Barbie was shifting his weight from left to right and was clearly at loss on what to do next. Trixie’s discomfort felt alien to Katya. He’d thought they were beyond these type of encounters but apparently, he’d been wrong.

“What’s in the jar?” Katya asked, hoping for the mundane question to break the strained charge.

“Mints,” Trixie answered instantly, still staring after Alaska, “I would think,” he rushed to add as a hasty afterthought whilst turning to Katya, as if suddenly realising that he wasn’t supposed to know. “I would think mints.”

Katya looked up to Trixie, puzzled. He could think of two reasons why one might want a mint after a cigarette, neither of which made very much sense in the given situation, so he dismissed the oddity as one of Alaska’s quirks. Something was bugging him, though. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it as the trepidity Trixie practically radiated made him feel ill at ease, blurring his thoughts.

When Trixie had called him two days ago to arrange the meeting, explaining that he had something he wanted to talk about, something new and exciting and slightly out of his comfort zone, something that involved Alaska, Katya had gotten excited. Whatever the two had planned was bound to be hilarious, but also professionally executed, and Katya was here – H. E. R. E. Here. – for it. It had been months since Trixie had first mentioned that he was working on something with Alaska and absolutely refused to spill any of the details. Katya had tried probing Alaska for some information as well, but the man had acted like Helen Keller without a pencil. He felt a little honoured that they’d finally decided to include him, whatever the project was, but the awkwardness and secrecy was driving him slightly mad.

“Come on man, he’ll get them,” Katya said and pulled Trixie back onto the sofa from his shorts leg.

Trixie complied with ease and took a deep breath.

“Fuck man,” Trixie swore quietly and brushed his palm against his knees. “I’m just trying not to fuck this up.”

“What exactly is there to fuck up?” Katya asked, but knew that he wouldn’t get a straight answer.

When Trixie didn’t reply at all, however, or even recognise that Katya had said anything, Katya started to think that maybe, just maybe, it would’ve been more productive to stay at home tonight. He could’ve watched the latest season of Game of Thrones instead, as it seemed like Alaska and Trixie were not going to get anywhere. He leaned his elbows against his knees and thought about Ethan. The confidence of the kid intrigued him.

“I met this kid today,” Katya said not quite certain why he was telling the story.

“Kid?”

“Yeah,” Katya nodded. “Curious little thing. I thought they were a girl at first but then the name was Ethan, so I think non-binary.”

“He introduced himself to you?”

“They,” Katya emphasised, throwing Trixie a judgmental look with cocked eyebrows. Trixie lifted his hands up in mock surrender and pursed his lips. “No, the mom called them that. Or like, I assume she was the mother.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

Katya turned his gaze to the yard where a group of young teenagers were fighting over a inflatable dolphin. They weren’t being incredibly loud, or maybe they were just too far for him to hear, but the flirtatious play he could see them engaging in was disturbingly heteronormative. They boys would steal the toy and take it into the pool, into which the girls couldn’t possibly enter because of their hair or makeup, possibly both. So they would guile one of the boys to help them to steal the toy back, and so it went, back and forth, like a very peculiar mating dance. Ethan would probably have to pick a side eventually.

“They were – was?” Katya asked Trixie who just shrugged, clueless. “Were,” Katya decided. “They were wearing these yellow glitter jellies-”

“-that you wanted?”

Katya laughed out loud before singsonging: “Yes, God! And like this purple tee and I- I think I was kinda jealous of their confidence.”

Trixie hummed and nodded as a sign that Katya should go on, that he was listening.

“I don’t know, man,” Katya said and grinned. “Like, meeting them was just like…” Katya paused to look for a word.

“Nice?” Alaska suggested and drew Katya’s attention up from the young, lekking teenagers.

“Yeah,” Katya grinned, meeting Alaska’s eyes. “Nice.”

Trixie grabbed the green Stella Artois Alaska was holding out for him and took a sip.

“I’ve got some weed, if you’d like?” Alaska asked Katya, once again leaning against the balcony rail. Katya chuckled through his nose and shook his head as he lit a second cigarette.

“Nah man, I’m good.”

* *

Katya threw a used napkin on the empty pizza box and leaned his elbows against the dinner table as he lifted his gaze up to Trixie and Alaska on the other side. Trixie was munching on the last slice of pizza, paying clearly no attention on Alaska, who was talking vividly about something Katya hadn’t heard a word of since, well, since the beginning really. He assumed it was something to do with drag, purely based on the excited glimmer in Alaska’s eyes, but he wasn’t really listening. Instead, he fixated on the incredible ease in which Trixie reached over Alaska to grab his beer, to wash down the pieces of pizza he was currently chewing. Trixie had finished his own bottle ages ago and now failed to return the stolen bottle back to Alaska, placing it instead next to his empty one. The exchange reminded Katya of his father who was in a habit of stealing his mother’s red wine on occasion, if she didn’t finish it quickly enough.

“So, spill,” Katya interrupted Alaska without apologies. “And for the record, I know that both of you are capable of coming up with ideas worthy of the Vienna Academy of Art rejecting young Adolf, but I’m open for anything consensual and unanimous,” Katya said sternly as he leaned further into his elbows. He was determined to get to the bottom of this damn project the other two had been avoiding for the past two hours.

Trixie and Alaska exchanged yet another uncertain look between them, as if once more confirming with each other that Katya was to be let into the secret. Katya wanted to roll his eyes but restrained. No idea, however tentative, could be that fragile. Had they fucking met him? Truthfully speaking, he felt like he should’ve been slightly offended that they kept going back and forth with their decision to include him.

“Look,” Katya sighed. “I get the impression that this thing of yours might be a little out there, even for me. But listen, we still have Bob the Politician as the current fucking reigning. As long as it’s not another United Airlines joke, or a rerun of the RuPaul’s Drag Race Season 76 skit, because both of those were badly executed, mama, and I’m talking some serious BFA offensive to be edgy bullshit, I think we should break some PC boundaries – or bones, if it comes to that.”

Trixie blinked at Katya’s words and Alaska bit her lip to prevent a laugh.

“God I hope we don’t break any bones,” Alaska muttered quietly and Trixie threw a disapproving look at him, trying hard to hide his amusement.

Katya watched, intrigued, as Trixie swallowed the final pieces of the pizza, wiped his mouth to the back of his palm and faced Katya with a rather un-Trixie-like seriousness.

“There’s no project per se.”

Katya’s enthusiasm was taken down a notch.

“No?” he asked, now completely confused. “Don’t tell me, you’ve collectively decided to stop the music industry and retire to Baan Souy at Pattaya?”

He reached over the table to offer a hand in solace to Trixie. “I know you want to support your singer-songwriter sister here,” he said solemnly and glanced briefly to Alaska, “- but it’s not your time yet, you still have some good years in you.”

Alaska chuckled lightly as Trixie pressed the feet of her palms into his eye sockets and leaned his elbows to the table, groaning loudly.

“I could-” Alaska started but was immediately cut off.

“No,” Trixie said firmly and sat back up. “I’m doing this. I need to do this.”

Alaska nodded and successfully avoided Katya’s questioning eyes.

“Katya,” Trixie said seriously, too seriously, and Katya had to grin. There was bound to be a joke, it would just take some time for Trixie to crack.

“We’re not retiring. We’re dating.”

Katya was looking at Trixie straight into the eyes and had to admire the raw talent in which he embodied the character. Trixie’s words came across completely sincere, as if he was entirely convinced of his own words, with no trace of the practiced script whatsoever. It was Meryl Streep level artistry. Katya glanced at Alaska, who was still avoiding his gaze and thus he turned back to Trixie, who was now pursing his lips together like he always did when expecting an unfavourable reaction or bad news from his manager.

“You’re kidding,” Katya said and realised that now she too sounded serious, too serious. He rewinded back the previous two hours: the odd non-greeting when Trixie had arrived, the avoidance of the project as a topic of discussion, Trixie’s familiarity with Alaska’s refrigerator’s alcohol contents, the stolen bottle of Stella Artois, even the mints in the clay rainbow jar on the balcony made suddenly sense; Trixie had always hated kissing people who tasted or smelled like cigarettes. Trixie and Alaska in a romantic relationship made about as much sense as the Trump Presidency; just because it seemed too absurd to be true didn’t mean it wasn’t real.

“I wish I was, because your face is a fucking picture right now,” Trixie snorted, but his voice didn’t quite reach the lighthearted tone he was clearly aiming for.

Trixie was nervous, Katya realised. He was apprehensive of Katya’s reaction and was waiting for his reply, possibly even his approval? Holy Mary and Jesus’ twelve Apostles in alphabetical order, they were not joking. Trixie Mattel, Katya’s co-patient from RuPaul’s seventh group therapy session, was, if her word was to be trusted – like, who knew, she could’ve been on any kind of drug possible! Katya swallowed the idea. Trixie Mattel was the least likely of them to be high in this situation and currently, according to her words, dating Katya’s all time favourite drag superstar from RuPaul’s best friend race.

Katya turned to look at Alaska who was now looking at him calculatingly, as if trying to figure out what was going on in his head. What was going on in his head? Katya didn’t even know himself. He was shocked, and confused, and a little disappointed that Trixie hadn’t told him earlier. How long had this been going on? He figured he should probably also feel happy for the pair, but he was too busy feeling shocked and confused to be able to branch out.

He turned his eyes back to Trixie, who looked slightly worried. What was he expecting Katya to say? Surely there was nothing he could say that would somehow affect the situation? Was Trixie expecting him to be upset? Why? Just because Alaska was Katya’s favourite, and admittedly hot as fuck, that didn’t mean that Katya would be upset. Hell, even if the game at Hey Queen had been just a joke, Katya had picked Tatianna over Alaska to kai kai with! It had been Trixie himself who had picked Alaska, not Katya, and… A small lightbulb lit in Katya’s head, very similarly to the scenes one might see in the 1990’s cartoons. Trixie had picked Alaska… The self-proclaimed high femme with a rainbow collection of “BOTTOM”-labelled baseball caps had been chosen by the country cowboy for a mutually satisfying coupling. Now, it certainly wasn’t the politest, or even the most relevant question. But it certainly was the first one Katya’s brain jumped to and before he could prevent himself, he had blurted it out:

“But, who tops?”

Trixie groaned in frustration and hid his face to his arms against the table.

“Funny you should ask,” Alaska drawled slowly as he reached to gently massage Trixie’s neck, an amused grin decorating his lips. “We were kinda hoping that you would.”

___________

A/N2: Thoughts?

#spoky #troika #trixie mattel #alaska thunderfuck #katya zamolodchikova #fluff #polyamory #rpdr fanfiction #canon compliant #alaska x trixie #rare pair

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