Work Text:
‘So, bang, marry, kill’
Brock adjusted his denim jumpsuit awkwardly as Silky locked eyes with him. He knew what was coming - that girl could smell emotions and he had a whole bunch wrapped up in pretty pink tulle and tied with a bow. ‘Brooke.’ He sighed and glared pointedly at her before scanning his options calmly. Saying anyone but Vanjie would be good for him, he mused as he slowly discounted queens. Scarlet would completely subvert his type but could be plausible, Honey or Kahana just wouldn’t be honest and Yvie, Yvie could end weirdly. On the other hand, he could go for comedy and go Silky but that could end up with him losing a leg and he just wasn't in the mood for breaking his personal space today. ‘Okay’, he drawled, buying himself time. ‘Kill Silky’. He winked at her just to soften the blow. ‘Marry Nina,’ This made complete sense. The older queen was like a mother to everyone and they have practically married anyway. Not to mention he learned she makes a mean french toast.
‘And fuck…’ and then his mind went blank.
Sighing once again, he mumbled. ‘Vanjie’
He smiled at him, a coy half-smile that made his whole body shiver. ‘Name a time and place and I’ll be there baby’ Vanessa said in a half whisper, quiet enough for only himself and Nina to pick up but still loud enough that others knew the shorter man had responded. If he didn’t know any better, Brooke would say he was nervous but that just wasn’t a possibility. The Puerto Rican was never nervous.
The almost awkward silence that followed was enough for Silky to move onto another target and as soon as the director called cut on that part, Brock snuck out of the door to the smoking area. He was pretty sure he was the only smoker so he didn't think anyone would follow him but anyways, it would give him time to process the mess of his head. The electric connection he felt whenever Vanjie so much as smiled at him drove him up the wall. His cologne was its own seduction and god his talking heads outfit killed Brooke every time he saw it. It'd taken all the restraint he had the first time they changed not to grab Vanessa by the necker and pull his tiny frame against him. His cigarette fizzled in his hand.
Pulling it back up towards his mouth he heard the lot door tap shut. He’d been so lost in his thoughts to hear anyone come out and he quickly swung his head around to check who it was, hair falling in the breeze.
"Care if I join you?" came a surprisingly soft voice from next to the door.
"You know these things will kill you," replied Brock, teasingly, waving his cigarette slightly. A chuckle, quiet and warm came out of Vanjie’s mouth, along with a plume of smoke.
"That's not stopping you."
Brock didn't reply and they found themselves in comfortable silence. He stubbed it out on the ashtray and leant back against the wall, arm behind his head. He knew he looked good, although he still wasn't quite sure why he wanted to. There was an allure to the shorter man and maybe it was the lack of sleep or the lack of human connection for most of his time - the aching toes or the beaten eyebrows but god , he looked good. He flexed a bicep as he waited, fixed his slightly windswept hair. Unrolled and rerolled his sleeve - Vanessa didn't turn around.
After what felt like 20 minutes (although he would later retell in a cast dinner, some months down the line as 3 or so) he turned around. He slowly took the few paces towards the Candian and without any warning whispered ‘well, I think we're alone now’. That was all it took before he lost control.
Some ten minutes later once they'd readjusted and rearranged themselves into a more presentable and average looking pair of men they slipped back inside the workroom. They greatly hoped no one would notice the slight shimmer of gloss on Brookes' lips. Or his less than perfect hair. They were pretty sure none of the queens would clock the pale bruising of Vanessa's earlobe or the way he looked flustered.
They were wrong of course, but Nina let them live out their own secret for a few more weeks at least.
*
Two months later, at a dinner with Detox at a cafe in downtown Weho, Brooke would re-tell the story. Vanessa would chime in too, of course, each time differently but always to take the piss just a little bit. Whenever he did though, he just smiled. The comfort he brought him just being around was enough. He supposed one of these days he should thank Silky. Probably.