#oh the driver? just some uber and totally not the guy i'm going to build my whole goddamn world around from here on out

[ex0rin]

Please please please, no please Hughie Campbell | The Boys S01E01: The Name of the Game

+BONUS: You should fuck off, Hughie.

[artificialqueens]

More Than I'm Supposed To (Witney) - Miss Bianca

Summary:

There was just something about Willam that just begged you to watch her. It was hard to look anywhere else, really, particularly when she smiled. And Courtney did pride herself on being able to make Willam smile more than usual.

A/N: 

I’m so sorry. I’m supposed to be writing my multichap. But Witney would not leave me alone, and so here we are. It’s not really an AU, I mean, this could’ve happened. Please tell me what you think! - Miss Bianca

The plan to go for lunch with Willam today was long-standing. In fact, it was a tradition of sorts, something they tried to do every other week, at least. Courtney counted her blessings every time that neither of them had to cancel, and did her best to make it every time.

She’d even passed up doing gigs before in favor of keeping up the tradition - when given the choice between Willam and another paycheck, Courtney knew she’d choose to spend time with the other queen every time.

In all honesty, there was very little Courtney wouldn’t give up for Willam, money and reputation be damned. But she didn’t like to think too deeply about that.

However, while the plans for the lunch meeting were already set, the  decision to meet up with Willam in drag instead of out was a last minute one.

Courtney wasn’t thrilled about having to go through the process of doing her makeup in the morning, but she did think it would be fun to see if she’d be clocked at the cafe when they went for lunch.

“Probably won’t be,” she said out loud to no one in particular, setting her lashes in place.

Her WeHo apartment wasn’t very lived in - in fact, it felt more like a hotel room sometimes - and Courtney strongly disliked being alone. This resulted in a lot of talking or singing to herself, like a crazy person, often without even thinking about it. It was usually random parts of her trains of thought, phrases that wouldn’t make sense on their own.

She hoped none of her neighbors had ever heard.

“Hopefully they’d just assume I’m talking to my cat, or something,” she murmured. “Wait, is that worse than talking to myself in the mirror? That might be worse. At least it’s less narcissistic.”

Courtney made eye contact with herself, and shrugged, going into her bedroom to pick clothes.

Willam would already be in drag from filming the Beatdown, and Courtney loved the idea of going out to lunch with a female friend. Both of them being in drag was both a pro and a con in this sort of situation, though, depending on which of them people noticed first in public.

The way Courtney saw it, either they’d see Willam first and instantly clock her, then realize Courtney was in drag as well, or they’d see Courtney first and assume Willam was a real woman without bothering to check.

“I’ll wear the red dress, then,” Courtney decided out loud, grabbing the sundress from the back of her closet and pulling it on carefully. “Make them look at me instead.”

Courtney doubted the strategy would actually work, though - there was just something about Willam that just begged you to watch her. It was hard to look anywhere else, really, particularly when she smiled.

And Courtney did pride herself on being able to make Willam smile more than usual.

Buzzing a little with nerves that she couldn’t quite explain, Courtney looked over her makeup again in her mirror. Her wig was simple and blonde, on the shorter side, and she knew that Willam would probably end up teasing her for not being a real drag queen at some point in the course of the afternoon.

She also knew that Willam would be tempted to brush back the few curls that hung around her face in this particular wig, and that was well worth the teasing. She tugged on one of the coils of hair, watching it bounce back into place.

If Willam wasn’t in the mood to be touchy and push the hair behind Courtney’s ear, she’d just end up wheezing and laughing at the strands getting in Courtney’s way as she tried to eat. And if Courtney was honest, that was even better.

“Alright,” Courtney said out loud, checking over her makeup again in the mirror near her front door before slipping on her brand new pair of heels. “Enough being a peacock, Courtney, time to go.”

Calling an Uber, Courtney stepped out the door, stumbling slightly on the stilettos as she hurried to the elevator. It only took her about thirty seconds to realize, with a sinking feeling, that she’d severely underestimated how uncomfortable the heels actually were.

Briefly, she considered popping back into her apartment to change them, but the Uber was a minute away and she didn’t want to make the driver wait.

“This’ll give me an excuse to lean on Willam, anyway,” Courtney muttered as the elevator descended. “She’ll probably call me an idiot, though. And she’ll be right. God, stop talking to yourself, Court.”

It was only another minute or so before she was in the back of an Uber, being driven to Willam’s studio by an abnormally talkative driver named Michael.

Traffic was a bitch, as usual, and by the time they finally pulled up outside, Courtney was twenty minutes late, and feeling terrible about it. She thanked Michael hastily, and wobbled over to the door of the building in the increasingly uncomfortable heels.

It only took her a few seconds of tapping on the buzzer for Willam’s studio before the lock opened, and she was hurrying inside and down the hall.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, Bill,” Courtney said as she stepped into the studio. “I - where is everyone?”

From what Courtney could see, the studio was empty except for a camera guy she didn’t recognize. He looked to be on his way out, finishing packing up his things.

“Court? ‘S that you?”

“Willam?” Courtney frowned, walking further inside and peering around. Willam’s voice sounded different than it should this early in the day, more slurred and higher, and Courtney wondered if someone had given her alcohol. At this hour? What, is she turning into Sharon?

“She’s on the floor,” said the camera guy, sounding bored and nodding towards the backdrop. Courtney stepped around a box, and her eyebrows shot up as she caught sight of the other queen.

Willam was indeed on the floor, lying flat on her back with her multicolored hair haloed messily around her face. Her knees were bent, skirt riding up her thighs, feet balancing precariously on the narrow heels of her louboutins.

She looked totally out of it.

Also, totally adorable, but Courtney pushed that thought away before it could even take root. She had to make sure Willam was at least partially coherent.

“What in the…” Walking over to where Willam lay, Courtney glanced worriedly over her shoulder at the camera guy. He shrugged. “Will, are you okay?”

“Courtney!” Willam exclaimed as Courtney came into her view. She grinned slowly. “You’re late, you dumb bitch.”

Courtney couldn’t help but smile back despite her alarm, crouching down next to Willam.

“I know, I’m sorry,” she apologized. “L.A. traffic.”

“‘S okay,” Willam said, nodding. “I can’t be mad at you. You’re too…pretty.”

She reached up in an attempt to touch Courtney’s face, but missed, hitting her nose instead. Giggling at her mistake, she let her hand fall back to her chest.

“Will, what are you on?” Courtney asked, now even more concerned.

“The good stuff,” Willam joked, smiling lazily. “Can you…”

She waved her hand in the air, making grabby motions until Courtney took it in her own and squeezed comfortingly. Willam sighed contently, blinking slowly as her fingers curled around Courtney’s palm.

Courtney swallowed thickly, distracted both by the gesture and by the undisguised, pure affection in Willam’s eyes as she looked up at her.

Willam wanted Courtney to hold her hand, had asked her to, for no other reason than the contact. And she was holding on, as if Courtney might slip away. It made Courtney’s chest tighten, like she couldn’t quite get in all of the air that she needed.

Then, she remembered how uncharacteristic Willam’s behavior was, and her stomach twisted anxiously.

“They’re pain meds,” the camera guy spoke up again, and Courtney tore her gaze away from Willam’s to look over her shoulder at him. “Her back started hurting, and she couldn’t stay standing, but she wanted to finish filming.”

“How much did she take, exactly?” Courtney tilted her head, frowning. She hadn’t realized Willam’s back was bothering her again, particularly not to that extent. But then again, Willam didn’t like to talk about anything that made her seem vulnerable.

“Dunno,” the guy shrugged. “A bunch, though.”

“Do you happen to know what kind, then?” Courtney asked, a little more bite to her tone.

“They were prescription,” he replied. “I didn’t, like, check the bottle.”

“Did it not occur to you that this might happen?”

“I’m not her chaperone,” the guy said with a frown. “I just got paid to film her for like an hour.”

“So it didn’t occur to you to maybe stop the person paying you from taking a handful of prescription pain pills?” Courtney asked sharply, now thoroughly annoyed and getting increasingly worried. “You just thought, oh, that’s fine, totally normal, not at all risky?”

She was spinning out now, and she knew it. Every time in the past four years that she’d worried about Willam and drugs, which was a lot, seemed to be coming back to her all at once.

“I -”

“Were you just gonna go, and leave her here, lying on the ground, high out of her mind?” Courtney cut him off before he could get a word in, the thought occurring to her suddenly.  

Courtney was aware of how overly fretful her brain was, but she couldn’t seem to help going there anyway, imagining all the horrible endings to Willam being left alone like this, already happily dazed with a bottle of narcotics within arm’s reach. Willam lacked strong self-preservation instincts, and had virtually no self-control, and Courtney felt sick at the totally conceivable thought of losing her to something as preventable as an overdose.

“Court,” Willam said softly.

“She could’ve passed out, or, or even died, if you’d left her like this!” Courtney continued, ignoring her, her stomach twisting uncomfortably. “We don’t even know what the side effects of this could be!”

“Courtney,” Willam tried again, tugging on her hand this time. “It’s okay, I’ve done it before.”

“What do you mean, you’ve done it before?” Courtney said sharply, turning back around to look at her. Willam looked slightly hurt. “What do you mean?” She asked again, more gently this time.

“I didn’t take too many,” Willam said, words slightly slurred, her eyebrows furrowing as she struggled to focus on Courtney’s face. “I’ve done this before, tons, I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Courtney disagreed, fighting to keep her voice gentle. “This is really dangerous.”

“My back hurt,” Willam said with a shrug, as if it was simple as that. She looked up at the ceiling, her gaze empty, giving up on trying to focus her eyes for the time being. “And I had to film.”

“Willam…” Courtney swallowed. The implication that Willam was regularly taking prescription pain meds carelessly like this, probably with no one else around, made her slightly nauseous with worry. She knew better than most that there wasn’t always someone there to make sure Willam didn’t go too far.

“Can you sit up?” She asked, deciding not to push anymore at the moment.

Willam nodded, and pushed herself up on her free hand. Courtney pulled her up the rest of the way, until she could lean against the backdrop.

“Ooh!” Willam exclaimed with a laugh as her bare shoulders hit the wall. Courtney looked at her questioningly. “‘S cold,” Willam said by way of reply. “I like it.”

Courtney smiled helplessly, because it was cute, and she couldn’t not be endeared. Squeezing Willam’s hand one more time before letting go, she stood up with a wince, abruptly reminded of the increasingly uncomfortable heels which seem to have it out for her.

“Alright,” Courtney said, walking over to talk to the camera guy, who was watching them rather nervously. “Listen, I know you’re not solely responsible for this,” she began, trying to be civil. “You don’t even know her. But did anyone else seem worried, watching her get more and more loopy?”

“Her producer was a little worried,” he replied.

“Anthony?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “But her husband seemed chill, so we all figured it was okay.”

“Wait, Bruce was here?” Courtney raised her eyebrows, surprised.

“He brought Warner!” Willam exclaimed behind her, and Courtney glanced over at her to catch the wide grin that Warner often brought to her friend’s face. Sure enough, Willam was smiling, her eyes narrowed affectionately.

“He said that she’d be fine,” the camera guy said, shrugging. “Said she could take care of herself, or something.”

No, she can’t take care of herself! Look at her! Courtney wanted to yell at him. She forced herself to take a deep breath.

“Well, I’m not sure about that,” Courtney said instead, calmly. “But I’m here now, so if you’ve got somewhere else to be, then, by all means.”

The camera guy nodded, picking up his things and heading out the door without another word.

Courtney sighed, and looked over at Willam, who was now humming absentmindedly, her head knocking gently into the wall behind her as she stared at nothing in particular.

She didn’t pretend to understand exactly how Willam’s relationship with her husband worked, but she sometimes doubted that he was really still in touch with who Willam was now. He spent a lot of time working - they both did - which meant that Willam was by herself a lot, handling a ton of pressure as well as her back issues alone. And on top of that, she hated asking for help.

Courtney couldn’t help wondering if she was compensating for the lack of support and companionship by over medicating to the point of losing lucidity. Luckily, she didn’t seem to be quite at that point yet.

“So Bruce didn’t seem worried about you doing this?” Courtney asked her.

“No, he was a little,” Willam said, nodding. “He offered to take me home with Warner before…before he went to work.”

“You said no?”

“I told him he could go, because you were coming to get me for…lunch,” Willam continued slowly. She paused for a long moment, and looked down at her feet, which were out in front of her, her toes tapping together rhythmically. “Can we go? I think I’m hungry.”

“No,” Courtney replied immediately. “We need to get you home. Or to a hospital…”

“No!” Willam said insistently. “I’m fine, Court, I told you. It’ll…it’ll wear off.”

“Home, then,” Courtney decided, walking over to Willam and holding out her hands to help her up. “We can go see Warner.”

“I don’t wanna see Warner,” Willam disagreed, shaking her head.

She stared at Courtney’s outstretched hands for a moment, seeming confused, before taking them and struggling to stand up.

“You don’t?”

“No, I wanna see you, dumbass,” Willam explained. She was now unsteadily on her feet, but still holding onto Courtney’s hands tightly, looking down at the floor as if it might start moving at any second.

“I can come home with you?” Courtney suggested, and Willam frowned.

“Can we go to your apartment instead?” Willam asked.

“Okay,” Courtney said. “I’ll call an Uber.”

“But, I have a car,” Willam protested.

“Yes, you do,” Courtney agreed. “You also have a bloodstream full of narcotics. You can come get it tomorrow.”

Willam sighed, and Courtney freed one of her hands to call the Uber.

A few moments later, Courtney was making her way down the hallway again, this time even less comfortable in her shoes than before, with Willam struggling to walk in a straight line beside her.

So much for having an excuse to lean on her.

“I like my studio,” Willam announced.

“That’s good,” Courtney said indulgently. “Why’d you pick this one?”

“It’s on the, uh, the ground floor,” Willam said, stumbling over her words a little. “So I can wear my heels on the way over, ‘n everyone knows I’m better than them.”

Courtney giggled. Willam was definitely still herself, even like this.

The Uber ride was shorter this time, even though Courtney started wishing for traffic the moment Willam pressed up against her side and started playing with her hand.

“I like your rings,” Willam commented at one point.

“Thanks, Bill.”

“Can I have ‘em?”

Courtney laughed, only to find Willam staring at her, completely serious.

“No, they’re mine,” she said.

“Fuck you,” Willam said good-naturedly, going back to inspecting Courtney’s palm. It didn’t take her long to speak up again.

“I think that’s your life line,” Willam mumbled, her thumb rubbing clumsily over one of the creases. Courtney’s palm tingled under her touch.

“Oh, yeah?”

“…Yeah,” Willam said. “Wait, no, that’s…” she trailed off, squinting. “‘S too short. You’d have to be dead by now. Court, are you dead?”

“Lemme see yours,” Courtney said, taking Willam’s hand instead and turning it over. She peered down at the same line that Willam had inspected on her palm. “Bill, it’s like, the same length.”

“Oh.” Willam blinked. “Court, are we both dead?”

“No, I don’t think Hell would be this comfortable,” Courtney said, her lips twitching as she tried not to smile.

“That’s good, I guess,” Willam said, nodding.

She started to play with Courtney’s rings again, turning them and sliding them around on her fingers.

“You wouldn’t be in Hell anyway,” she said after a moment, thoughtfully. “You’re too…good for that.”

“Then maybe you wouldn’t, either,” Courtney suggested. “You’re a good person, too, you know.”

“Maybe.”

“No, definitely,” Courtney said. “There’s a really good, sweet person underneath all that irony. I know, because I’m friends with him.”

“Yeah, just you,” Willam said. “You ‘n Lasky. And you’re both too good for me, anyways.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Nah, you’ll see,” Willam insisted. “You’ll stop caring, sometime, and then…you’ll go away. But it’s okay. I can take care of myself.”

There it was again, that same phrase - Willam can take care of herself. And just like before, Courtney instinctively wanted to say that she couldn’t. But she held her tongue, thinking for a moment instead.

Even though Willam was speaking simply, she was far more vulnerable than normal right now, and what seemed like her deep-seated beliefs about herself were coming to the surface. And as much as Courtney wanted to tell Willam how wrong was and pepper her with affection until she believed her, she knew it wouldn’t be well received.

“I know you can take care of yourself,” Courtney said instead. “But you don’t have to, not all the time.”

Willam shrugged.

“I’m not going away, Willam,” Courtney said after a moment. “I really do care about you, and I like being your friend.”

There was no response, but after a moment, Willam’s hand slid into hers.

They rode the rest of the way in silence, and Courtney hoped that she’d gotten through to Willam at least a little. Her friend seemed relatively relaxed, just staring into space and occasionally squeezing Courtney’s hand.

As soon as they reached Courtney’s building, Willam was leaning against her again, not balanced enough to stay upright on her own as they walked.

By the they stepped inside her apartment, Courtney was ready to chuck her shoes off and toss them straight out the window. She tugged them off, struggling to balance with Willam still leaning against her, and after a moment, Willam was kicking off hers as well, nearly taking both of them down.

Courtney started to move them away from the door, and Willam grabbed onto both of her hands, still seeming unsteady despite being flat on the ground again.

“I feel like a…what’s that thing with the neck?” Willam frowned.

“Ostritch?”

“No, spots,” Willam said, waving at her own body.

“A giraffe?” Courtney suggested, with a snort of laughter.

“Yeah! That’s it,” Willam nodded enthusiastically, a wide grin on her face. “But like, a baby one.”

“They’re cute.”

“Am I cute?” Willam batted her eyelashes.

“So cute.”

“Can I have a hug?”

The irritatingly familiar butterflies that Courtney often felt when Willam was being adorable were coming back in swarms, now that she was sure her friend wasn’t on the edge of death. Courtney couldn’t help but laugh at the hopeful look on Willam’s face, her wide eyes and barely there smile.

“I’d love to hug you, Bill, but you’re holding my hands too tight,” Courtney replied.

“Oh,” Willam said after a moment.

She blinked a couple times before letting go of Courtney’s hands, carefully steadying herself on her own feet. Her attempt at balancing on her own was successful for about five seconds, during which she smiled at Courtney excitedly, proud of herself.

Then, she took a stumbling step forward and into Courtney’s arms.

Courtney caught her easily, and wrapped her up in a tight hug. She expected Willam to be backing away in a matter of moments, like always, and so she savored the moment as best she could.

But instead, the opposite happened, and Willam’s arms remained firmly around her. After a moment, her head rested gently on Courtney’s shoulder, nose brushing her neck, and the metaphorical dam holding back the slew of feelings Courtney was trying harder and harder not to think about sprung a leak.

I love you.

Courtney almost said it out loud, by habit or accident, but her desire to prolong the moment thankfully kept her quiet. She didn’t want to scare Willam away by making any noise or sudden movements.

Willam smelled like faded perfume, and her breath was warm against Courtney’s neck, and her acrylic nails dug gently into her back, and Courtney was melting like white chocolate in her arms. Everything about it was just so Willam, a perfect combination of unexpected and warm and sweet and prickly all at once.

Courtney never wanted to let her go. She wasn’t sure she could if she tried.

If there was a way to photograph a feeling, Courtney would make this one her lockscreen and her homescreen. She’d tape it to her mirror while she put on makeup, and put an oversized print of it on her bedroom wall.

She wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but it wasn’t long enough. Willam shifted in her arms, and Courtney’s heart sank a little.

There was a brief, soft press of lips against the column of her neck, a kiss gentler than Courtney had ever dreamed Willam was capable of, and her breath caught in her throat.

And then, Willam pulled away, one of her hands still steadying herself on Courtney’s shoulder.

Courtney looked at her, expecting to see that unreadable expression on her face, and was instead confronted with Willam’s eyes already on her.

The other queen was smiling faintly, her eyes flicking almost nervously around Courtney’s face, her thumbnail scratching lightly at Courtney’s collarbone.

“What is it?” Courtney asked, her voice coming out weaker than she intended. There was a pause.

“I got lip gloss on your neck,” Willam said finally, her smile widening.

“I don’t mind,” Courtney said with a soft laugh. That was an understatement.

“I kinda like it,” Willam remarked, reaching up to brush her fingers over the spot she’d kissed. “Makes you look like mine.”

“Maybe I am,” Courtney said softly, before she could stop herself.

Willam only stared at her for a moment, and then smiled, taking her hand again.

Courtney took off her own wig, one handed, and then helped Willam tug off hers. They fell onto her couch side by side, Willam cuddling up against Courtney with her feet tucked under her and a pillow clutched to her chest.

“You can’t keep doing this,” Courtney said quietly. “It’s not safe, Will.”

“I know,” Willam replied. “It just hurts, Court. And I can’t stop working, I just…I can’t.”

“I know.” And she did know. To Willam, there wasn’t a choice in the matter.

It was silent for a little while. There wasn’t any layer of awkwardness in the room, even though Courtney knew that there was a lot of words left unspoken on her part.

��Can you at least tell me?” Courtney asked finally. “When the pain’s starting to get bad again? Or when it hurts, and you’re by yourself?”

After a moment, Willam nodded. Courtney grinned at the small victory, feeling triumphant, and Willam glanced up at her.

“God, chill,” she commented with a snort.

They fell quiet again, the only sound that of Courtney humming softly from time to time. Willam yawned occasionally, and after awhile, her head rested on Courtney’s shoulder.

It wasn’t until Courtney was sure that Willam had drifted off to sleep that she spoke again, unable to help herself.

She’d never been good at keeping her thoughts to herself, and now, cuddled up so close to Willam, she felt like the words were overflowing, and she was helpless to stop them from spilling out.

“I love you,” Courtney whispered, turning her head to press her nose gently against the top of Willam’s head. “More than I’m supposed to.”

“I love you too, idiot,” Willam mumbled back.

Courtney’s heart skipped a beat.