#i looked up symptoms of an overdose tho and it seems to just send you into a coma and is not lethal usually so that's fine

[mid-student-hannah]

teacher yesterday: anyone guess what the most common overdose we see in emergency is

everybody else:

everybody else: ...alcohol?

me: it's gonna be paracetamol isn't it

teacher: it's paracetamol

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

Okay! It’s related to addiction, hope it doesn’t bother you: Tony Stark is out from rehab, trying to start his life from zero after losing almost everything bc of his addiction. He had been in rehab for quite a long time, so going back to society is being kinda difficult. He can feel the stigma people have of him and so Tony feels lonely, until he meets Peter, a healthy kind man. Tony is afraid of falling for him and f*ck everything up as he has done before.

Spend My Days Locked In A Haze

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Mature (M)  Word Count: 4.5k Notes: So, this one has been sitting in the box for a little while because I wanted to approach it with educated respect. I did a lot of research. A lot. I hope this is what you were looking for, nonnie! Thanks for dropping the prompt my way <3 Warnings: Description of drug use (Tony struggles with a cocaine addiction), mentions of ADD, and therapy.  Summary: 

Tony’s brain doesn’t shut off and he struggles to manage it - so, he doesn’t. Instead, he develops a habit that is not the best for his body or his mind. A discovery during rehab helps a little, but the ultimate cure for restlessness is the adorable Peter Parker and food tours around the city.  

do the thing - send in all the prompts.

It started out small, like most things that have the ability to magnify always do.

After getting back from the desert, Tony couldn’t get his brain to turn off. Not only did he have a foreign object in his chest, he endured months of living in a cave with very little to eat and the inevitable happenstance of death clinging to his back like a needy child. Aside from the suit plans he wanted to refine and make into a working suit that could function with his now upgrading arc reactor, Tony didn’t have much of anything else going on.

It all got a little worse when he figured out that Obadiah was the one behind his kidnapping and hoped-for death. It stung a little, to be one of the smartest people in the world and miss something that after looking back, should have been seen from a mile away. How could a man that thought he ruled the world ever give up the throne without a fight? It didn’t make any sense to forget that Tony was one of the best fighters out there – but, he’d forgive the man his mistake when he got to see him behind bars.

The need to finish the suit became pinnacle and with that, long nights and even longer gaps of time between sleeping and letting his body rest. His mind didn’t ever seem to get tired, however – it ran on a loop for hours on end. Whenever he thought he might get to a stopping point, the next thought came flying across the forefront of his mind. It was great for his work, but not so great for his body and mental health.

After the 20th reminder from Jarvis about being awake for 80 hours straight, Tony forced himself from the lab and into the confines of his bedroom. It made his heart race, just thinking about sleep – yet, the second his head hit the pillow, he was out. His body’s need and the inability to shut it off pulled him under. The racing of his mind, however, did not go down with him.

Less than 4 hours later, Tony jumped awake, his entire body covered in sweat. He woke up patting at his chest, uselessly making sure he wasn’t connected to a car battery that with just one misfire, could take his life. Before he could contemplate getting back to sleep, his mind moved on to the adjustments he needed to make to the suit – the idea of rest was now gone for at least another 80 hours.

It got to be a little much – after the final interaction with Obie, Tony lost a little bit of steam. It was one thing, to go and go for hours on end when there was something to go for. Yet, it was something completely different, to be both restless and completely overwhelmed with a brain that didn’t want to power down. Sleep didn’t come and when it did, it was broken and interrupted by nightmares that drove him back to the lab or the kitchen or anywhere else other than the big empty bed that wanted to suck him in and keep him in the dark.

He remembered a brief stint in college when he was younger and going through the exact same thing. Tony knew that Bishop wasn’t dealing drugs anymore, but there were many people throughout the city that were. It didn’t take but a few well-placed calls to secure an in-person delivery of the China White that could at least take away the need to sleep. When his brain wanted to run a million miles a minute, who was he to deny it?

The first few bumps lasted him for a long time – his tolerance for the stuff was nowhere near what it’d been in his younger years. He wasn’t sure how the arc reactor effected the processing of it, either. Every time he leaned over to do a line, he might be one step closer to blowing his heart up. In a way, the risk seemed like the most appealing part of the whole thing. Living on the edge at least gave him something to live for.

Between upgrades for the Iron Man suit and the transition from weapons manufacturer to clean and sustainable energy, Tony didn’t have time to slow down, especially when it came to sleep – that took up too many brain bytes and didn’t contribute to the madness he continued to pump out month after month. As the days passed, Tony found himself getting more entrenched in the need for the drug that kept him both wired and level – it felt good to go and go and go without having to stop. Stopping was for the weak.

Despite the cavalier attitude, Tony started to notice some physical symptoms of the upper being in his system all the time. Since introduction of the arc reactor, Tony didn’t feel much in terms of his heart or the cardiorespiratory process that went down between the heart and the lungs. The higher his doses, however, the more uncomfortable his pulse became – the throbbing in his veins seemingly thicker and thicker as the days went by.

Of course, when the shit hit the fan, Tony was making one of his rare public appearances. It meant a lot to him to change the company’s perspective, but not a lot to the people actually affiliated with Stark Industries. After the business with Obadiah, it seemed pertinent to keep himself under the radar – which was well in good because he wasn’t in any condition to be in front of people. Yet, Pepper talked him into the barest of glimpses at the next press conference.

That particular day, Tony attempted to sleep the night before and felt a little strung out from the experience. It was weird – to be so aversive to sleep. In an attempt to wash his mind from the dreams that plagued him, Tony snorted an extra line before leaving his penthouse and getting into the swing of being a businessman again. It seemed like, especially since coming back to reality, that persona didn’t fit him – rules and restrictions and propriety weren’t really his thing; he was about to make that incredibly apparent.

Though he didn’t have any talking expectations, Pepper wanted him up front in the limelight – which was nice for about two seconds. Then, the sweating started; the brightness of the lights brought every bit of moisture within him to the surface. And when that happened, his heart rate picked up – how it got any higher than it already was, Tony didn’t know. Reaching up to loosen his tie, Tony shuffled from one foot to the other over and over again; he hoped the restless movement would cure the general weightless feeling that did not feel glorious like the high usually did.

Hitting the ground was not expected and try as he might, he couldn’t push off from Happy to get away long enough to do it in the relative peace of an empty hallway, not in front of cameras and many, many people that were watching the live broadcast. He was still conscious when Happy ran over to him, his big hands grabbing Tony’s arms tightly. They made eye contact before he finally slipped away, the horrified look on his face just seconds before forever engrained in his mind.

----

The worst part of overdosing didn’t come from the progressive removal of Tony from the board, or the headlines that spoke of the scandal – no, the worst part came when Pepper dropped him off in front of an in-patient rehab clinic. The intense amount of the drug in his system had him seizing and coding out a couple of times on his way to the hospital, followed by several days off waking up with excruciating pain everywhere, chills, a fever, nausea – all of the fun things that came from detoxing from a chronically used drug.

When he’d been cognizant enough to actually have a conversation, Pepper told him about the board’s decision to remove him from his position – he shakily signed the papers that would make her the acting CEO. She told him that pending a stint in rehab, they’d reconsider – but they both knew that was total bull shit. Getting out of rehab meant coming back to a haunted penthouse and no company in sight. Despite that, Tony agreed; he was only 45 – dying was the last thing he wanted for himself.

It was grueling to begin with – Tony was still on the edge of his detox and felt more irate than ever before. His chest ached from whatever happened to his heart during the course of seizing and having severe palpitations. To top everything off, his mind was still running on overdrive and there wasn’t a bit of relief in sight – they wouldn’t even let him exercise yet, his heart wasn’t ready for it.

About a week into his stay, Tony started attending the group and individual therapy sessions. He didn’t like to talk to people when he felt normal, so small attempts to open up were made during his group time – it took him 3 weeks of sessions before he even felt comfortable enough to introduce himself; everyone knew Tony Stark – but nobody really “knew” him.

The individual sessions were a totally different bag, however – the small female therapist sat in a big chair behind her desk, the width of it dwarfing her even more than her stature already did. If he had any ground to stand on, he’d laugh at the irony of it. Tony didn’t, though – the rock bottom he was laying on at the moment felt worse than the desert, and he’d been there against his will.

She looked at him a lot – Dr. Martin’s eyes were hazel and a little on the beady side – every time her eyes moved, Tony could feel her scrutinizing him. They didn’t talk for 2 solid sessions; the quiet would have been much more appreciated if she didn’t keep running her eyes over him, but beggars really couldn’t be choosers.

It was clear during his 3rd session that he wasn’t going to get away with keeping his mouth shut. Her posture was different when he walked in and her usual file was nowhere to be found. Sitting down, Tony took in a deep breath to prepare himself – it felt like a sweet kind of torture, waiting for the questions to come his way.

“I’ve spent the past couple of weeks trying to connect your file to you and I can’t – so I thought coming right to the source would be a good place to start. Can you tell me a little bit about yourself? Your likes, interests, habits – “

Instead of balking at her, Tony settled back in the chair, his hands knitting behind his head – the position meant to give off ease. “Uh – what don’t you know from the papers? I like to build things with my hands and solve puzzles that other people can’t. I’m interested in not dying because of the habit that I have. I want my brain to shut off for a while, which is what led to the shitty habit to begin with.” Scratching his head, he shrugged, the words more than he’d said to anyone in years.

Dr. Martin tilted her head, her eyes a little brighter than just a moment before. The inquisitive part of her on the scent of something. “You want your brain to shut off. Can you elaborate on that?”

Looking at her, Tony quirked a brow – he’d never been asked to describe the chaos in his head before. It took him a minute to categorize his thoughts, the multitude of details that needed to be included sorting themselves out. “It’s like having a million files open at one time. I get to the end of one train of thought and immediately hop to another. Or I’ll be right in the middle of one and be on the opposite side of the room the very next second. There’s no focus. I fixate on my work and the things I like – everything else, it’s a restless toss-up.”

Tony recognized the light bulb going off in her head when it happened – there were more than enough eureka moments in his lifetime to know exactly what that looked like. Getting up, Dr. Martin went over to her stack of files and dug around until she found Tony’s. “It says that you have a long history with restlessness and an inability to sleep. There’s obviously some traumatic origin to some of the most recent feelings, but have you always experienced things like that?”

In the end, Tony went through a long line of tests to determine whether ADD contributed to all of the issues he experienced outside of the drugs. He met with Dr. Martin and told her his long history of times just like the most recent one – times of long stretches without sleep because a project consumed him, and then even longer times of disorientation because he couldn’t connect to anything. Tony didn’t know what a diagnosis would bring him, other than more stigma, but the prospect of an answer wasn’t the worst thing to be offered, either.

Upon being diagnosed, a certain sort of feeling washed over him. Not contentment, but something that might be like it. On top of the drug counseling and group sessions, Tony had a couple more therapist added to his repertoire. Instead of going through the 90-day program, Tony stuck around and did 180-days instead. Before he left, he wanted to make sure that he could put both feet on the ground and stand up on his own. There were too many ways to get access to the thing that could very easily be his downfall – having self-assurance felt absolutely necessary.

The nerves about the situation manifested in the fact that he’d have way too much time on his hands when he got back into his real life. Without SI, there weren’t a lot of things going on for him. Idle hands were never a good thing for him before – the necessity for a distraction allowed him to fixate and neglect any semblance of a routine. If he could just keep his shit together, maybe the bits of his life could be fit back together.

Happy picked him up with a soft smile on his face at the end of Tony’s stay. He brought the Audi and got out of the driver’s side when he saw Tony walking toward him. When he didn’t hop back in, Tony shot him a grateful smile and sunk into the custom seat he installed himself. The purr of the car during the drive was enough to drown out his anxiety and stop any sort of conversation from happening. One thing Tony always appreciated about Happy was the fact that he didn’t push. Tony needed to be around people that didn’t push.

Parking in the garage, Tony pulled the keys from the car and turned towards Happy – the only person who stuck with him through the 6 months he’d been taking care of himself. “Thanks, Hap. You being here today was really important to me,” Tony said, his eyes flitting from side to side to avoid having to see the look on Happy’s face. He learned that being honest was the best policy, but it didn’t stop it from feeling a little weird. Talking about his feelings wasn’t the easiest thing in the world.

“Glad you’re back, Tony. It’s been too quiet around here.”

----

The process of getting back into society was harder than he figured it would be. Though he went away for a while, the world did not forget the tragic picture of him passed out on the ground, the later news of his overdose painting the picture more fully and discoloring how the public saw him even more. As he predicted, the SI board didn’t have any intention of letting him come back any time soon – the idea that his company stood in the hands of someone else for an undetermined amount of time made him want to punch something; but it was his own fault, the consequences were his to deal with.

In place of working, Tony developed a routine throughout the day that took up his time and allowed him to stay organized and far away from the listless feeling that could so easily take him over. Every morning, he got up at 8 to eat a breakfast that he cooked himself. It took a couple of weeks to master the art of making eggs, but he managed, regardless. After breakfast, he hit the gym in his building and ran out his troubles on the treadmill until he couldn’t feel his legs anymore.

In desperation during his first few days at home, Tony asked Jarvis for good food places around the city to try – ever since, he’d been slowly going down the list. Some of the places were upscale and took lots of money to have a high quality cup of coffee, and some were mom and pop places that cooked love into every bite. In all of his years of being in the city, Tony hadn’t thought to explore the local eateries and highly regretted it – there were so many things he missed out on.

During his food trips, Tony got to see different parts of the city – some that he didn’t know existed before walking through them. One particular adventure led him to a part of Brooklyn that looked newer, despite the older neighborhoods surrounding it. Jarvis told him about a brunch place that was rumored to make the best waffles. The walk there was interesting and filled with many mural covered walls that were incredible. Stopping to take pictures of a couple of them, Tony walked right into the line for Snooze without really meaning to.

The toe of his foot hit the back of the man’s shoe in front of him in his haste to stop before barreling into him completely. Sucking in a breath, Tony let himself be grateful for his fast reflexes before he looked up to apologize to the person he almost took out. Brown eyes that met his were filled with amusement and focused solely on him. “I’m so sorry. I saw a Storm Trooper mural a block over and got caught up looking at the picture I took of it,” Tony babbled. “I got here before I realized.”

A soft smile also belonged to the man with eyes that carried a shine to them, the man’s teeth white and adding to the intensity of his grin. “That’s okay. I stopped and looked at that mural for a bit, too. If you go down a couple of blocks, there’s a Boba Fett one.” The man looked over his shoulder to make sure the line wasn’t moving before turning towards Tony completely. “Are you a big Star Wars fan?”

By the time they got up to the door, Tony found out that the man, who he came to know as Peter, worked as a freelance CPA and jogged around the neighborhood not far from here. He followed the smells to Snooze, his trip there totally unplanned, unlike Tony’s. They talked about the newest trilogy additions to the Skywalker story and decided that Ben Skywalker shouldn’t have died after all. The hostess looked at the two of them and didn’t think to ask if they were together or separate, she simply led them to a small table. And neither man stopped her.

One brunched turned into coffee on the Upper East Side, and then Chicago style pizza in Queens. Peter seemed to enjoy the different food adventures that they went on – the man jumping on every chance that he could to join Tony. Many times, their meet ups to get food turned into walks around the closest park or trips through museums and art galleries. In his life, Peter was the only person that didn’t judge him. He didn’t have the knowledge to do so, but something told him Peter probably wouldn’t, regardless.

In spending all of that time together, Tony inevitably started finding himself falling for the charismatic Peter Parker who talked with his mouth full and could put away an entire pizza all by himself. Tony came to know that Peter was left-handed and enjoyed ketchup on his hamburgers but not mustard. CPAs that made their own business hours got to work whenever they wanted and on off days, they played squash and read to kids at the Brooklyn Public Library. For every bad quality that Tony had, Peter countered it with something so positive, it became more obvious that he was way too good for him.

Baggage like his was hard for him to carry – he couldn’t imagine placing that on someone else’s shoulders, especially someone as good and kind as Peter Parker.

A desperate attempt to save Peter and his goodness from the inevitable way that Tony fucked everything up, he took a couple of steps back from their friendship. Instead of meeting Peter almost every day, he limited himself to once a week and tried to keep it as friendly as possible. A hard feat, it seemed, after 3 weeks of Peter looking at him curiously. More than anything, Tony wanted to run his hand across Peter’s cheek to flatten out the slight frown, but he held back – one touch would send him down a rabbit hole he more than likely shouldn’t explore.

Their latest get together felt a little strained, Tony could feel it from the second he walked up. Peter wasn’t nearly as friendly as usual and left before Tony could even suggest walking to the ice cream place he scoped out on his way to the restaurant. He tried not to feel disappointed – his attempts to create some distance between them were working. The sucky feelings that came along with them, however – they were not.

The very next day, Tony was surprised by the sound of his elevator opening a little after 7PM. There were only 3 people that knew the access code to his elevator and 2 of them were currently out of town getting ready for the Stark Expo. Thinking about that made his skin prickle, so he pushed the thought aside and made it over to the doors. He knew Peter would be there, but the sight of him standing in the foyer of his house hit a little different. The last time he was here, they were excitedly heading out to try Cronuts & Co – smiles on their faces.

Now, Peter looked at him with a mix of hurt and confusion. Tony matched him – after their time together last night, he was surprised that Peter wanted anything to do with him at all.

“Sorry to just show up, Tony. I just – what happened? I need to know. Things were going great. Then an alien overtook you and you left the building. I’m – scared. If nothing else, you’re my friend and the 180 is a little concerning.” The admittance caused the man to stop talking, the red on his cheeks spreading quickly, the color going all the way down his neck and probably further. “Did I do something? I’m sorry if I did – just please, tell me what’s going on.”

Tony took a step back, every word hitting him square in the chest. So wrapped up in his own shit, he didn’t even see the panicked look in Peter’s eyes – the one that was staring back at him so heavily now. Pulling in a deep breath, Tony bucked up, a new sort of determination settling within him. “There’s a lot that you don’t know. Too much for the foyer of my apartment. Come in, I’ll get you a drink.”

Five minutes of reprieve Tony got while he poured them a couple of small shots of bourbon felt like enough time to collect himself. Disclosing the most intimate details of his situation wasn’t how he figured he’d spend the night, but it seemed right – to finally get the pressure off his chest. Tony slugged his drink back, then took a seat on the couch next to Peter.

“I’m sure you know the basics about me. I think the picture of me fainting at that press conference is a meme,” Tony uttered, an uncomfortable chuckle leaving his lips. “I got a little lost after I got back from the desert. I have a thing – where I fixate and get restless and have trouble focusing and after I got things squared away with Obadiah Stane, I just sort of lost the way completely. I fucked up a perfectly good opportunity to make the company my own, Pete. I fucked up so much in my life and the last thing – the absolute last fucking thing I want to do is fuck anything up with you – especially you, Pete.”

He watched Peter suck back the booze in his glass – the bob of the Adam’s apple in his throat almost distracting enough to ignore the anxiety rolling through him. Long fingers pressed the glass into the coffee table, then those very same fingers were grabbing his hand. “You don’t owe me your past, Tony. I knew who you were when I met you. I liked the way you looked so lost the first time we met. You have a great personality and a kind of thirst for life that I’m really excited about.” His fingers tangled with Tony’s, the man using his leverage to pull him closer. “I don’t care how you got here, Tony.”

It was a little overwhelming, hearing Peter speak so candidly. Almost everyone else in his life wrote him off – how a random person could have such faith in him blew him away. There wasn’t a lot of sense in it, but in his journey over the last year, Tony realized most things didn’t.

A soft hand on his face brought him out of his thoughts, the smile Tony came to adore present on Peter’s face when he looked up. “How about we just take it a step at a time? Might be good for the both of us,” Peter suggested, his thumb running over Tony’s cheek as he spoke.

Leaning in, Tony let his lips press against Peter’s lightly, the ghost of a kiss enough for the moment. He gave Peter’s hand a squeeze and gulped in a breath, a genuine smile slipping across his face.

“Sounds okay to me, Pete.”

[artificialqueens]

party chapter ten - shalaska - pureCAMP

A/N - how the fuck did we make it to ten chapters y'all… I’m shook.

Hope you enjoy this, anyhow! <33

Alaska could almost categorise the room full of people according to how they looked – the sallow skin and hooded lids of the alcoholics, the drawn faces and manic eyes of the drug abusers, the nervous glances and shuffling of the first-time rehab attendees, and the disappointed glances and blushing skin of the accompanying family members. It was a relief that Sharon didn’t appear to fit in with any of these people. They looked sick and sad and beyond help. She just looked tired and thin. A little bored, too. It had been almost two hours and her patience seemed to be running out.

“Two more minutes,” She leaned over and whispered in Sharon’s ear. “Then we can get the fuck out.”

Sharon hadn’t spoken to Alaska much since they’d been at Sharon’s home. It wasn’t like Alaska had any expectations on what it would be like to stay with her, but she didn’t expect the strange sensation of being stuck in a limbo. Sharon slept a lot. Alaska would do laundry and organise her drag just to pass some time. Sharon would grumble about the detoxification process. Alaska would crack a joke about Detox, and they’d laugh. Sharon would have peculiar dreams and wake up sweating, but refuse point-blank to talk about them. Alaska would watch TV, her eyes flitting from the screen to the closed bedroom door in case Sharon woke up.

She’d been told already that Sharon wouldn’t display any physical symptoms of withdrawal, but there would be fun little quirks like irritability, agitation, nightmares and possibly depression. A few times Alaska wondered why she’d agreed to do this, to stay with Sharon, but in the rare moments when she talked and cracked jokes with her, those thoughts left her mind. The older queens seemed to be doing her best to control her foul moods and hide her weak moments, even if she was unsuccessful. It was the thought that counted.

“Oh, thank fuck.” Sharon murmured back, her voice low. “I’m about to lose my fucking mind. The amount of self-control I’m using right now is terrifying.”

Alaska snorted appreciatively. “Oh yeah?”

“As in, this place is making me want to do drugs more than I did before I walked in the door.” She joked, her eyebrows knitting together.

Sharon had hated every single activity they’d had to do. First was group sharing; Alaska had an inkling that Sharon wouldn’t bother to censor herself for the sake of the rehab therapists or the patients, and she was entirely correct. When asked to introduce herself, she said, “I may not look like a Sharon but that’s how most people know me. I’m here because I fucked up and did more coke then I intended to.” Alaska had smacked her face into her palm, not missing the raised eyebrows that had been sent the blonde’s way. Sharon didn’t seem to care.

Next was one on one therapy. Whilst Sharon was doing her best not to be rude, to her credit, her old bluntness and unfiltered speech ran amok throughout, which appeared to make the therapist very uncomfortable.

“Is there a reason you decided to take drugs?”

“Yeah. They’re pretty fun.”

“Was it a suicide attempt?”

“No.”

“Was the overdose on purpose?”

“Nope.”

“Were you perhaps crying for help?”

“I just wanted to have a good time.”

“Are you incapable of having a good time without drugs?”

“Nope.”

“Do you have a drug history?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me about that.”

“I’ve used drugs before.”

“For how long?”

“Since I was a teenager. I worked in bars.”

“Was your life difficult?”

“A little.”

“Were drugs a coping method?”

“No, they were just for fun.”

Alaska had to fight back giggles during their exchange, which probably didn’t help. The second they left the room, Sharon burst into laughter and had to clutch the wall, gasping for breath as Alaska cackled along with her. They both started to complain through their laughter about how it seemed like a virtually useless method of healing, even though they knew it helped some. Sharon clearly had enjoyed antagonising the therapist.

The final one was team-building and group work, having to coordinate with the other patients to solve puzzles and problems that they were given. Sharon had spent the whole time sending withering looks in Alaska’s direction every time someone annoyed her, communicating through a series of forced smiles, cocked eyebrows and long sighs. To their relief, the rehab session was coming to a close, and they were arranged in a circle – like fucking preschoolers, Sharon had said – whilst their group efforts were being evaluated.

“You’re dismissed, we will see you all again at the next meeting.”

Sharon practically sprang from her seat, the most active Alaska had seen her in days, and shot out of the door at a speed significantly greater than that of the rest of the attendees. Some slunk away to their rooms in the facility, others filed through the exit on their way home, and Sharon was out of the door like a bullet fired from a gun.

“Fucking hell.” She swore, releasing a deep breath out through her lips as if she were smoking a cigarette. “Alaska, how much do you care about my wellbeing?”

Alaska frowned. “Way too fucking much, why?”

She pulled a face. “Please don’t make me go to this shit again on Thursday. Michelle doesn’t have to know.” Alaska started to laugh. “I was gonna lecture you about taking care of yourself, but I completely understand your thinking.”

“See!” Sharon cackled, pointing. “Of course I wanna recover! Just not by visiting that Westborough Baptist Addicts bullshit twice a week. We can do better than that at home.”

Alaska’s breath hitched at that – hearing the words we and home in the same sentence. It felt familiar. It felt right. She stopped herself before she could reminisce about the days where they did live in a home together. Even if she had promised that someday, somehow, she would make things work between them, they did need some time. Sharon wasn’t as stable as she seemed. It wasn’t like she was going to go out and find as much blow as she could, or drink herself into a state, but the fact remained that she was weakened from the ordeal and needed time to strengthen again. The last thing she needed was the extra stress of love in the mix; even if she was aware of it and had admitted to feeling the same way herself. They just needed time.

“You okay?” Sharon asked, her face creased in concern as they walked. Alaska snapped out of her funk and nodded.

“Sorry, yeah. It should be me asking you that.”

Sharon snorted. “Please. You just look deep in thought, that’s all. I know you and I know you don’t think because your brain was rotted away by makeup and hairspray inhalation through years of being a drag queen. Something up?”

Alaska smiled at that. “Not particularly. It’s just weird, you know? This whole fucked-up situation. But I have to admit you do seem kinda better, after that shit. Maybe you should carry on going to that place after all.”

Sharon shook her head violently, a grin on her face. “No way! Never. I guess I am talking more, you’re right about that. If I’m honest, it’s probably because I wanted to die so much whilst I was in there that my only distraction was to talk to you. I forgot how much fun properly talking to you is. I need to do it more often.”

Her heart fluttered. “I know you do. I might only respond with one word texts but you never answer your goddamn phone!”

Sharon lightly slapped her arm. “Incompatible. You’re a phone talker and I’m a text person. This is why we broke up.”

Any other time, Alaska might have looked away, but the words reminded her of something Sharon had said earlier, and she cracked up upon hearing them.

“When they asked about who had accompanied you, and you said ‘My ex boyfriend!’…Girl. Did you see their faces?”

Sharon grinned a second time. “Wasn’t it hilarious? I’ve never seen anyone look so awkward!”

“Anyway,” Alaska continued, resting her face on her fist as she pretended to think. “Should I let you off from Thursday’s session… should I talk to Michelle… hmm…”

“I’ll cook tonight if you don’t make me go. Fuck, I feel like a kid asking for permission to do something. Considering I never asked for permission as a kid, this is a weird feeling.” Sharon begged, laughing at the end of her ramble.

“For the next two weeks.”

“Five days?”

“One week. Final offer.”

“Deal. I’ll pay for takeout too.”

Alaska nodded. “Damn right you will. Hey, we’re here.”

Sharon pushed the key into the door, fumbling a little from the cold. As she began to busy herself with tidying round, muttering apologies for letting Alaska do it when she volunteered, Alaska took the time to read through the messages she’d been sent, flopping down on the couch.

Willam: we didn’t send this to sharon just in case, have you guys been online? There’s some shit

Alaska: of course there is. I haven’t looked yet, dreading it

Courtney: some of it’s nice

Willam: mixed responses really

Willam: some hate, some love, lots of “IS SHARON DEAD” and “ARE SHALASKA TOGETHER AGAIN”

Alaska: fucking shalaska

Alaska: the dumbest thing i’ve ever heard

Courtney: the couple or the name

Alaska: duh, the couple

Alaska: kidding. The name

Willam: i think we’re too old to get why the kids do this kinda shit. I think court and i take the cake with witney tho.

Courtney: AND IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII WILL ALWAYS LOVE- Bianca del rio.

Willam: don’t even start. I heard they call you two bitney.

Alaska: how original

“There’s some shit online?” Sharon said suddenly. Alaska started, her heart pounding as Sharon somehow managed to creep behind her without her notice. Placing a hand on her heaving chest, she shoved Sharon as she dropped down onto the couch next to Alaska.

“Hmm…” Sharon hummed, as Alaska let her scroll through Courtney and Willam’s texts. “Hate, love, asking if I’m dead and asking if we’re together. Ooh, I wanna go on twitter. My phone’s in my pocket, let’s use yours.”

Alaska giggled uncertainly, half-amused, half-worried. “I don’t trust you with twitter. Were you planning on tweeting?”

“Maybe.” The mischievous glint in Sharon’s eyes gave her away. “Just something dumb like ‘to all the responses: fuck you, thank you, no, maybe.’”

“For fuck’s sake.” Alaska chuckled. “No, I’m not letting you on mine. You’re a terrible person and I do not trust you in the slightest.”

Before Alaska could say anything more, Sharon had opened up twitter on her phone and was scrolling through it. Her eyebrows shot upwards and she let out something like a shocked cough mixed with a laugh.

“Wo-o-ow…” She murmured. “This is… something.”

Alaska cringed. “How bad is it?”

“If the Hiroshima bomb and 9/11 hit twitter at the same time, it looks a little like that.” She admitted.

“Sharon!” Alaska chastised her. “You can’t say that!”

Sharon coughed. “Just did. Seriously, take a look.”

She began to read a few of them, switching between tweets sent to Michelle, Alaska, Sharon herself and even the official Drag Race account.

“Sharon Needles finally took it too far, such a shame… aw, that’s a nice one. She deserved what she got… lovely. Alaska please tell us sharon is doing ok. I’m convinced sharon is dead, no one is talking about her. You can so tell lasky still loves sharon in her tweets. Agreed! I don’t know why they don’t get back together. Unless sharon’s dead.”

Sharon coughed again. “Amongst others. Most of them are along those lines.”

Alaska quivered; whether it was with rage or nervousness or relief she didn’t know. She was thankful that a large number of them were concerned, sending well wishes and hoping that Sharon was okay and would quickly recover. But too many of them were hateful – even one was too many. She didn’t know if it was better or worse, but the amount of tweets speculating about the two of them made her feel some type of way too. Of course she still loved Sharon. Sharon still loved her. It just wasn’t that easy.

“Oh shit, I just forgot that we haven’t told them if you’re alive or not. No wonder they all think you’re dead.” Alaska commented, feeling wan and exhausted. The last thing she wanted was to deal with social media bullshit.

“I’ll tell them.” Sharon said, resting her head on Alaska’s shoulder as she saw the look of turmoil on her face.

Sharon Needles - @SHARON_NEEDLES  - Jan. 6th

If you’re already dead you can’t die again .. dead girls never do blow ..

Sharon Needles - @SHARON_NEEDLES – Jan. 6th

Please don’t harass my friends and family about me . They don’t need any more hassle on my behalf than they’ve already had ..

Sharon Needles  - @SHARON_NEEDLES – Jan. 6th

And no I’m not alone . There is someone here with me and I am safe . Thanks for the love .. cunt wait to be on stage again

Sharon paused suddenly. “Thank you. I’ve been meaning to say that.”

“Huh?” Alaska asked.

“I know I haven’t been the best person to be sharing a house with – I never really was – but especially these days. I’ve been living in my own head, just letting you get on with doing the shit that I should be doing, and it’s kinda unfair. You should be out there doing gigs, you have hundreds of thousands of fans who want to see you doing what you do best, and rightly so… but you’re here. With me. Stuck in this house, watching TV and cleaning up all my shit whilst I lounge about feeling like shit.”

Alaska swallowed, her cheeks heating up. “Think nothing of it. It feels like old days.”

Sharon shook her head. “I was a terrible boyfriend.”

“You were great.” Alaska corrected her. “The only cleaning I had to do was picking up beer cans. You did the rest.”

Sharon smiled weakly. “I guess you’re right. But you should be out there screaming about anus and pussy and nails and instead you’re with me. I’m sorry I dragged you into this mess.”

“You didn’t drag me into it.” Alaska said. “I dived headfirst when I saw you like that. It was scary, Noodles. You were shivering, boiling hot, and completely erratic. I never want to see you like that again.”

Sharon looked down, ashamed, as Alaska’s eyes stung with tears. She had done her best not to think of what Sharon had been like before she passed out, only focusing on the fact that she was alive. Moments later, she felt Sharon’s hand grab at her own, and she clung on tight as she spoke.

“You said some horrible things, too… so horrible. It wasn’t you. You were like a different person.”

Sharon’s eyes glistened. “W-What was I saying…?” She asked uncertainly. “I’m almost afraid that I don’t want to know… I have no recollection whatsoever.”

Alaska tried to laugh, but the sound that came out was mirthless. “I wouldn’t expect you to remember. It was awful, it really was.”

She coughed. “You said that… you said that I didn’t give two fucks about you. That people who care about you should try and help you instead of making jokes about you. That people who say they love you don’t really care what you do to yourself until it hurts us.”

Sharon’s grip on Alaska’s hand went slack, just for a second. The tears she had been fighting so hard to keep back broke forth, flooding silently down her cheeks. A pregnant pause went by, neither of the queens sure of what to say, before Sharon took hold of Alaska’s hand once again and buried her face into the younger queen’s shoulder.

“Why do you…” She started, tongue-tied. “How did…”

Alaska rested her head on top of Sharon’s, her own cheeks growing damp from tears. With her thumb, she gently rubbed circles into Sharon’s hand, not forcing the blonde to speak nor interrupting her.

“Why are you here? I was so awful to you. You should be slandering my name out there, condemning me for taking drugs and saying horrible things to you. Why are you here?”

Her voice cracked, wobbling and pitching as she tried to speak through her tears. Not even needing to think about it, Alaska wrapped her arms around Sharon and pulled her close, holding onto her as though it were the very last time she would. Something told her, however, that it definitely wouldn’t be.

“Because I’m stupid and I love you. I told you so in the hospital.” Alaska murmured.

“It’s been all I’ve thought about.” Sharon admitted. “You said that we could make it work, we could try. I wish it was that easy.”

Alaska nodded. “Aren’t we just the dumbest pair ever? You admitted to me that you love me, I got mad about it, then realized I love you and now we’re just… Here. Doing nothing about it.”

“I think a few… less than helpful obstacles got in the way of us. Mainly the fact that I’m a fucking mess.” Sharon pulled herself upright and laughed. Alaska noticed with a pang in her chest that their hands were still entwined.

“At this point I don’t even know what we’re doing. Feels like we’re gonna be stuck like this forever. So fucking close and yet nothing. I love you and you love me and it doesn’t seem to be going anywhere.”

“Fuck it.” Sharon whispered.

In an instant, Sharon closed the gap between them and a pair of warm, soft lips were pressing against Alaska’s. She relaxed against them, kissing back without bothering to even think about what was happening. Her hands threaded through Sharon’s blonde hair as she pulled her even closer, reclining backwards on the couch with the older queen on top of her.

Finally, she thought numbly. The familiar scent of Sharon; the clichéd cigarettes and beer and boyish musk that hung around her, it all felt like home. It felt like travelling back in time to a boxy apartment in downtown Pittsburgh and kissing because it was the only thing they knew how to do. It felt like coming home and going on vacation and merging their very souls with the stars that were shining up above, unseen in the evening sky. It felt like fire and ice and passion and power. Most importantly, it felt safe. Like home. Like love. Like the first signs of a frosty winter thawing for a warmer, softer spring.

They broke apart for air, their chests heaving as they just stared at one another, pupils blown with lust, lips swollen and red. Alaska watched Sharon, the way that her tongue darted out and wetted her lips, the way that her blonde hair was dishevelled from Alaska’s touch, the way that her skin had flushed red. They had spent time apart, years of wondering and thinking and regretting, but Sharon still kissed like she had the very first time. Sharon still kissed like that drag queen who did weird drag in a shitty downtown bar and had Alaska enthralled. Sharon still kissed like a queen who was entirely jealous of Alaska’s fame and completely enamoured with her look.

Alaska was the one to connect their lips this time, lifting her shoulders up from the couch to reach Sharon before feeling herself getting pushed down again, the weight of Sharon on top of her pinning her down. It was less gentle this time; instead of communicating all of the forgotten words, the tentative whispers that they couldn’t find the words to articulate, it made up for lost time. It was needy and insistent – Sharon’s teeth dragged against her bottom lip as she kissed with bruising force. It compensated for so many years apart, four years of not being able to touch her and kiss her the way she wanted to. Years of pent-up emotions and feelings and love and hate poured out through that kiss, a thousand unsaid I love yous and I miss yous finally breaking free.

“Fuck the articles online,” Sharon breathed. “Fuck the people saying we were better apart.”

“Maybe we were,” Alaska panted back. “But why should we care?”

“They don’t have to know yet,” The older queen decided. “No one does. Michelle, Willam, Courtney, Jinkx, the fans.”

“Agreed,” Alaska said breathlessly. “Keeping it a secret is our fucking prerogative. I’ve waited too long for this.”

“You’re telling me?”

Things had changed. They were older; wiser. Both had bigger lips than they had before, two albums, different lives. Alaska didn’t see the point in waiting. They were only getting older.

“We can take this slow.” Sharon said finally, shifting her position so she was next to Alaska rather than on top of her. Almost instinctively, Alaska leant against her, smiling when Sharon’s arm snaked around her. “We don’t have to jump into this and call it a relationship and tell the whole world. But I love you and I want to kiss you and I don’t want to hold back.”

Alaska’s heart skipped a beat, and then another. She wanted to cry and scream and hug Sharon and kiss her all over again. Her mind was entirely addled and she didn’t mind in the slightest.

“I like that. I like that a lot.”

Sharon grinned. “So articulate. So eloquently worded.”

“I will end this.” Alaska threatened, giggling. “Don’t try me, Noodles.”

Sharon laughed and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You would never. I know you love me. Even with all these needles in my face.”

She prodded at her face, pretending to model as though she were posing for a photograph. Alaska snorted.

“Of course, Miss Lepore.”

“A woman after my own heart.” Sharon joked, her hand hovering over her chest.

“You know it.” Alaska whispered, and leaned forward a third time to kiss her.