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The mistletoe is hanging right in front of the door once Trixie arrives, and if anyone asked her, she’d say that it’s a stupid idea. But no one did, so she kept her inner monologue of “who would kiss right on the front door, for everyone to see? Gross!” to herself, instead letting her eyes scan the carefully picked out decorations spread everywhere across the living room where Violet Chachki’s Christmas cocktail party was being held. Perhaps it was not the fanciest apartment Trixie had ever been to, but the hundreds of fairy lights, beautiful decorative gifts in all shades of red, green and white next to the twinkling Christmas tree and even the slightly tacky colorful gnomes, reindeers and Nutcrackers told her that the party planners, she assumed Violet and her roommates, had put a lot of effort into their work.
She didn’t know Violet well, only managing to exchange a few ‘hello, how-are-yous’ with her when she’d stop by the small bakery Trixie worked at and order her usual bagel and latte, no whipped cream please. On the other hand, she considered Violet’s girlfriend, Pearl, to be one of her closest friends and possibly the only one from high school she’d kept, besides Kim. Pearl was the reason why she’d gotten an invitation in the first place, after promising she would not embarrass her with stupid high school stories, please Trixie, Violet is a lady and they’ve only been a thing for two months . So there she was, wearing a pink dress to match the pink curls of her hair which worked as protest to how nobody besides herself was bold enough to say a big ‘fuck you’ to traditions and wear different colors on the 25th other than the usual, boring Christmas palette.
She hopes she’ll be able to control her alcohol and not accidentally spill the story of when Pearl passed out after having touched a living frog during Biology class.
It barely takes a minute before Trixie feels a pair of arms enveloping her into a warm hug, and she is quick to realize it’s Ginger, both because of how she has to stand on her toes to reach her, and due to her welcome speech being classic Ginger. “I can’t believe you chose pink, out of all colors! Or, well, I can believe. You’ve always been sickly obsessed, Ms. Mattel.”
She beams at her. “Can’t blame a girl for appreciating the shock value.”
That causes for her laugh, and Trixie is thankful for it. They make small talk to pass the time, Trixie looking around with curiosity at the fellow guests. She sees a girl with such gorgeous makeup that it instantly made her feel self-conscious, and watches her flash a smile at the other girl she is talking to, someone with short grey hair and a beautiful black dress, making it look like she’d left home with a funeral in mind instead of a Christmas party. Most people there seemed to be girls, she noticed, but it was a common thing considering how cliques were formed in college. Still, none of Trixie’s friends from Music class were attending – and she would have killed a guy to have Adore there with her.
The mistletoe, she also noticed, changed locations and was now proudly hanging over the fireplace.
“Where are Pearl and Violet?”, she asks Ginger, raising an eyebrow.
“Ah—“ the redhead has the decency to blush, unable to bite back a giggle. “They disappeared in one of the rooms, like, fifteen minutes ago. Can you believe?! And the party has only been going for an hour!”
Trixie rolls her eyes and laughs along with her, making a mental note to clown Pearl for her behavior once she decides to show up. That information, though, means she will likely be stuck with Ginger for the entire party, and it isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but they’re not the closest of friends and can only find a few interests in common, such as their love for musicals.
But try discussing Evita with a Musical Theatre major. It is living hell.
Ginger starts to talk about something, but Trixie is shameful to admit she is not listening to a word of it because the most beautiful girl she has ever seen just smiled at her .
She is short, shorter than Trixie even with heels on, and her hair is a mess of blonde locks falling everywhere as if she’d just woken up, a delicate red bow standing on top of it and making her look absolutely adorable. Her entire outfit is red, a tight dress which ends in the middle of her thighs, blood red lipstick completing the look, and Trixie thinks that perhaps she doesn’t hate the boring Christmas palette everyone wears at all. Perhaps red is actually the best out of all colors. She isn’t even mad the stranger caught her staring and smiled at her.
Ginger seems to notice her too, and Trixie jumps upon hearing her voice louder than ever. “Katya, you whore!”
The goddess (Katya?) smiles again, so wide it spreads all over her face and lights up the entire room and Trixie is certain she can hear angels singing in the background. Katya is walking towards them, and Trixie feels an urge to run away screaming almost fully matched by another, more visceral urge to impress her.
“Merry Crisis, motherfuckers!” She says, loud enough for other people to hear and either giggle or just raise their glasses at her. Trixie wonders if they’re all her friends, but something tells her Katya would have behaved the exact same way in a room full of strangers. She has that aura of a big personality who doesn’t care about anything.
Ginger laughs, wasting no time in hugging the blonde. “You weirdo, you’ll scare my friend.”
At those words, Katya pulls away from the hug just enough to meet eyes with the pink-haired girl, another of her breathtaking smiles gracing her features. “My name is Yekatarina Petrovna Zamolodchikova, and I come in peace to celebrate this American holiday with you human person.” She speaks in a thick accent, Trixie suspects it is Russian, and it makes her blink about fifty times really fast.
“Her name is Katya and she is an idiot.” Ginger clarifies, which sends Katya into a fit of bubbling laughter so over the top that it makes Trixie want to laugh with her. She looks so goddamn happy, happier than she’d ever been in her twenty-two years of existence. “Katya, meet Trixie Mattel.”
“Pleased to meet you, Tracy Martell! You are exactly the Barbie doll I wanted when I was nine, coming to punch me in the face.” She greets her so naturally that Trixie finds herself silly for blushing at those words.
She notices Katya has a hand out for her and shakes it, the touch sending a spark of electricity down her spine. What a stupid cliche. “Pleased to meet you, Katya. Ken dumped me, I dyed my hair pink and became a daytime stripper who is addicted to cheap strawberry-flavored candy… and crack.”
Ginger tilts her head amusedly at Trixie’s descriptive greeting, and she spends a second wondering if she’d fucked up before Katya‘s laugh is heard again, even louder than before. It makes her think, and add one more point to the stupid cliche, that she’d love to spend hours making her laugh.
“Tallulah, you are a blessing to this Christmas extravaganza.” She beams at her, the statement sounding joking and sincere in an odd combination, especially with how she refused to get Trixie’s name right. “And you!,” she turns to Ginger, “shall not call me Idiot for tonight, because that’s what I named my gnome. The green one. He gets angry when we’re mistaken.”
Trixie giggles, Katya’s presence bringing her in like a magnet and making her forget about Pearl, the other guests, the drinks and even why she came there in the first place. Was it a Christmas party? She could have easily believed it is still July.
Fuck, she sounded exactly like a teenage girl with a crush on One Direction or whoever the youth fancied these days.
The three girls chatted for a couple more minutes until Ginger excused herself to go say hello to her friend Kennedy, someone Trixie knew from campus and sympathized with. There weren’t many guests, barely surpassing ten, and comfortable sounds of conversations filled the apartment along with a record of Ariana Grande begging Santa to tell her if her loved one would be there for her next year.
Trixie stood out by her outfit, but stayed mostly quiet, meanwhile Katya blended in with the shades of red but was a clear standout with her bright smile and ridiculous laugh. Together, they formed a well-balanced pair, and both came to that conclusion at the same time without telling the other.
“Hey!”, Katya calls her attention, and Trixie nods to show she’s listening. “Come, I’ll introduce you to my gnomes. They’re not talkative, so I’ll interpret their voices.”
Trixie follows her, giving polite smiles to everyone Katya greets on their way (she counts four – the girl with stunning makeup is Fame, the grey-haired one next to her is Max, one with short hair and a cheerful smile is Jinkx and another wearing a beautiful long dress is Roxy). Once they reach the gnomes and she gets to give them a better look, her most prominent thought is about how they’re the most hideous creatures she has ever seen. Katya seems very proud of them, though.
“Look at my little misfits! I had to blackmail Violet and Aquaria into letting me include them in the decorations. They think they’re ugly, can you believe?”
“Not at all…” Trixie lies, both eyebrows raised.
Katya pauses, a look of pure (fake) horror and disappointment on her face. “Do you think they’re ugly, too, Beatrice?”
“Well, I have a feeling they’ll visit me in my nightmares —“
“You’re a mean one!” Katya says in between giggles, her high energy making Trixie wonder if she ever runs out of battery. “I like it.”
If she blushes at that, it’s nobody’s business.
The word ‘Beatrice’ brings back a number of bad memories, however, reasons why she avoids Milwaukee like the plague and changes subject every time anyone asks what she is doing for a holiday. She had decided to go by Trixie, a nickname chosen for herself, as a way to disconnect from sad, little Beatrice who spent full nights crying over how her stepdad would forbid her mother from attending her music recitals, or because he had called her bad names again. Even Pearl and their friend Kim, who knew old Beatrice, called her Trixie instead.
It comes as a surprise for her when Katya furrows her brows, opening and closing her mouth twice before she points at her. “You! Is everything okay?”
“Oh, yeah, I’m fine.” Trixie guarantees her, thinking for a few seconds before she continues, “You actually got my name right there. Beatrice. I just… don’t like it, so I go by Trixie instead.”
Katya curses under her breath and takes Trixie’s hands in hers, her chin tilted upwards to stare into her eyes. “I’m sorry, Trixie. I’ll cut off the nonsense.” She isn’t sure if the blonde has noticed there is more to it than simply not being fond of her name, but Katya’s apology is as genuine as her smiles are, and it causes for Trixie’s heart to grow a bit too big for her chest.
“Hey, it’s alright! Tracy Martell was a good one.” She reassures her with a chuckle, her eyes lightning up when Katya laughs with her.
“Thank you! It took some effort, I had to pretend I was drunk.”
The gnomes are long forgotten and, by Katya’s suggestion, they sit down on the couch together, Trixie using every bit of her ladylike manners not to stare at Katya’s toned legs. Eventually Pearl and Violet make their way out of the room, their outfits so perfect that no one would have suspected they’d left at all. (Pearl sees her first, smiles and gives her a thumbs up that Trixie doesn’t understand, but returns anyway).
“So you live with Violet?” She asks Katya, who gives her a quick nod that makes her red bow shake on her head. Adorable.
“Mhm! It’s me, Violet, Alaska and Aquaria. We’re an odd group, but we surprisingly match each other well. Alaska is in the kitchen with Detox and Roxy, and Aquaria went to spend Hanukkah with her girlfriend Brianna. She still helped us decorate, though! The insane amount of fairy lights were her idea.”
“Which part did you decorate, then?”
Katya gives her a proud smile. “The Christmas tree! All my blood, sweat and tears went into making it look pretty. I worked for days! I never work that hard.”
Trixie whistles, thoroughly impressed. The Christmas tree is decorated with candy canes, little gingerbread people, fairy lights and so much glitter it twinkled incessantly, the star on top a vivid gold. She can imagine Katya climbing on a chair to reach the highest spots, a concentrated look on her perfect face, her hair maybe wrapped in a bun or falling messily down her shoulders. She already can tell she’ll be spending way too much time thinking about Katya.
‘Last Friday Night’ begins to play, and a group consisting of Roxy, Alaska and Detox (Katya calls them Rolaskatox with a roll of her eyes) goes to the very middle of the room to dance, followed by Ginger and Kennedy. The blonde excuses herself to go get them drinks, and Trixie misses her never-ending ramblings and loud laughter the second she’s gone, although she tries not to demonstrate it by moving her head along with the music.
The mistletoe, which hasn’t been moved since Katya had been introduced to her, now finds itself on a chair in the dining room, and Trixie is certain that whoever keeps moving it is just clowning around with no actual intention of making people kiss.
Katya comes back with two glasses and a bottle of wine, and they drink all of it without barely giving each other a pause from how much they talk. Trixie finds out the long Russian name she’d been given really is Katya’s name, and she used to go by Yekatarina until her middle school teacher, a woman named Latrice, suggested Katya instead. Her parents still live in Russia, but this time she couldn’t visit them during the break because she is late on a few classes and chose to stay with her roommates instead. She asks Trixie questions and gets all answers, some detailed and others not, and she is perceptive enough to notice when the pink-haired girl dodges a family-related question for the second time, and doesn’t ask them anymore.
“You play guitar?!” Katya’s voice sounds as excited as her smile is.
“Yeah! I’m self-taught and rarely play in front of people, so I might not be that good.”
“Nonsense! I will feel very honored if you ever play for me one of these days, Tristan.”
She wants to see me again , Trixie thinks. Her heart speeds up in complete joy.
They talk for what feels like hours, to a point where Trixie worries if she is keeping Katya to herself too much and not giving her any time with her other friends. At some point, Fame and Max join them, and Trixie likes them so much that they all exchange phone numbers. (Katya makes a funny face for her contact photo, Trixie wonders if it’s too much to add that picture to her favorites. She does it anyway).
Everyone at the party sits on and around the couch for a group picture, and once the clock hits midnight they slowly begin to say their goodbyes and go back home. Kennedy leaves first, followed by Ginger and two girls Trixie hadn’t had the chance of talking to, Sasha and Shea. The only boy, someone named Todrick who makes the funniest jokes, shakes Trixie’s hand before he leaves, Jinkx and her bubbly excitement following afterwards. Detox and Roxy stay longer, but leave together once it’s nearing 1 AM. Katya waves them goodbye and gasps once she looks out the window.
“Oh, fuck, it’s snowing again!”
Violet, who was sat at the opposite couch with her mile-long legs on top of Pearl’s thighs, lets out an airy chuckle. “Guess you and Trixie will have to stay over, then, Pearlie. Can’t have you driving with this weather.”
Trixie’s eyes widened at that. She couldn’t! She had agreed to staying there until the party was over and helping them clean everything, even with Katya and Alaska’s objections, then Pearl would drive them back to the safety of their dorm at campus. She hadn’t even brought extra clothes – Pearl wouldn’t have that problem, but Trixie could never fit into what Violet, Katya and Alaska wore.
“A sleepover! Like we’re twelve again. We can play Truth or Dare or some shit.” Alaska says, looking up from her phone, her speech so slow that it is impossible she doesn’t do it on purpose. “Too bad Roxy and Detox went home.”
“Trixie?” Pearl tilts her head in her direction, her eyes making it clear that what she decided would be final.
She stares first at Violet, who is also looking at her, then Alaska, whose long nails make tiny noises while she types something on her phone, then Katya and her smile brighter than the Christmas tree.
“Fine.”
Katya cheers and jumps off her seat to make preparations, saying Trixie can take Aquaria’s room for the night and that someone must have old pajamas she can borrow. She shakes her head no to that and repeats about four times that she’s chill sleeping in her dress, and they decide to do the cleaning in the morning. Pearl and Violet say lazy goodnights and disappear back into Violet’s room, their honeymoon phase stronger than ever, and Alaska announces she’ll be watching whatever Christmas movie is on TV and they are welcomed to join her.
“I have a plan. Follow me.” Katya announces after she gets back from changing out of her dress, the last sentence coming off as pointless since she grabs Trixie’s arms and drags her along anyway.
They end up in the kitchen, a lot less of a complete mess than what usually happens at parties, and Katya opens the fridge with furrowed brows, mumbling to herself as she picks up ingredients.
“What are you doing?” Trixie asks.
The blonde turns to face her with a wide smile. “It’s snowing, so I’ll make us hot cocoa!”
The adorableness in those words and how cute Katya looks in her sleeping shorts, which almost disappear underneath her oversized shirt, make it a painfully hard task for Trixie to hold back a squeal.
She watches as Katya, who firmly denied any help, gets to the process of heating up the milk and picks up two mugs, a pink one and a white one with a little drawing of a rainbow.
“Pink is for you.” It is an understatement.
“No Alaska?”
“She doesn’t eat or drink anything other than water past 10 PM.” Katya smiles, and for a reason she can’t fully comprehend, Trixie smiles back.
They go back to the living room, each holding a mug, and Alaska lets them have one of her blankets, big enough for them to share without any awkwardness. She stays sat at the opposite ends of the couch and won’t stop looking at them with an amused look on her face.
“What is it, Satan?” Katya asks in between sips, no sign of actual annoyance in her voice. Trixie stares at the exchange curiously.
Alaska winks and stands up. “Mhm? Nothing! But I changed my mind, I’ll go to sleep. Night, hookers.”
Trixie is positive that she has become the human form of a question mark. Katya just shrugs.
They watch a Christmas special that either makes no sense or Trixie is too sleepy to comprehend, and towards its’ end she is almost sure she’d seen Katya blush and avoid her eyes. She doesn’t know the Russian well yet, but these hours spent together are enough to let her know this is unusual behavior.
“Are you gonna tell me what’s up?” She asks, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Uhm…” Katya bites her lip and points to the ceiling, and oh.
Hanging on a fairy light, right on top of them, is the mistletoe. Trixie feels her cheeks heating up as if she is about to explode, and she finds out how Katya laughs when she is nervous, too. They share an anxious smile.
“It was you moving the mistletoe around, right?”
The blonde nods, her smile now more of a grimace. “I thought it’d be boring to have it only at one spot, and we forgot to buy more than one, so I worked my magic. No one kissed, though…”
Trixie tilts her head, feeling a burst of confidence at how Katya is still red and avoiding her gaze. They’d spent the entire party together, she made her hot chocolate and kept touching her thigh when she laughed. She held her hands to apologize.
All signs were pointing out that the possibility of Trixie’s crush not being unrequited wasn’t so out of this world.
“I-I wouldn’t mind.” Is what she says, words met with a shrug of her own. As if it isn’t a big deal. It is.
“Kissing me?” Katya asks, her voice barely above a whisper. Trixie confirms. “Is this a Christmas miracle?”
That makes both of them laugh, and Trixie leans in first, lips connecting with Katya’s tentatively until she gets kissed back. It is not more than a peck, hesitant and careful, their hands finding each other even after the kiss is broken.
Katya kisses her again, and again, and again, and Trixie mumbles against her lips. “I think I’d kiss you at any day of the year.”