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artificialqueens · 6 years ago

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if we have eachother (Branjie/Scyvie/Everyone) 1/5 - PinkGrapefruit

chapter one. in which family means chaos

A/N - hey guys! i finished this way before i thought i would (but please don’t hold your breath for the next chapter) and i wasn’t expecting to go soooobranjie but ah well - shit happens. Thanks to Frey and Meggie for putting up with my ass (and Saiph for validating me early on) (and Clanjie for the idea) and lets get on with the show!

Vanessa names his kids after ’The Notebook’ characters because ‘well, I want them to be happy and find love and shit’ and they live in a bubble for a few months between the end of August and the season eleven announcements. It’s anything less than calm and a learning curve and a half before he sleeps full nights again (when he does, he’s got Allie under one arm and Noah on his back, but he’s never been happier). He cuts down his drag shows and leans on his sisters a little for support, A’keria talks him through the little things his research didn’t prepare him for - how they don’t like being alone and can’t quite understand when they’re being addressed because their old family wasn’t ideal. He never cries in front of them, only drinks a glass of wine every few nights, alone on his couch. Brooke is around when he can be, all 6’3 of a Canadian man who becomes just so soft around the kids - they don’t know of their Papa’s relationship with Uncle Brooke. It’s for the better as then again, they’re three.

Then season eleven premieres and his world is turned back on its head, moments filtering through his mind like sand particles until everything makes it through the hourglass. He spends more time away from his kids than he would ever want to, but still manages to read them a bedtime story over Facetime. They celebrate their birthday in early March (and Brooke triumphantly reminds Vanessa that his kids are Pisces). It’s a family affair and they - a good handful of season ten and eleven sisters - go to the beach, Noah staying safely in the embrace of Nina while Allie jumps waves with Scarlet and Yvie. Brooke and Vanessa stay under the giant umbrellas, watching the kids as they wonder how they got this lucky. The twins may not be in any relation with Brooke, by relationship or blood, but he takes pride in knowing he was one of their first people, that means more than any crown he could win. The Latino regularly fields questions about how he co-parents with an ex but the answer is more complicated than it might seem, so he keeps his mouth shut and watches his son be spun around on the other man’s back, flying.

It’s a moment of solitude in a time that is far too busy for his liking. He longs for days back in the summer when he would sit in the garden, watch them run around until they fell onto the warm grass. Ice cream and dance parties and the smell of freshly washed baby hair - apple shampoo.

He’s doing okay, he swears, as he juggles Allie and Noah between Alexis and A’keria and anyone else who’s in town at the time. Then he books four straight weeks in California and he’s doing better. It runs all the way up to Drag Con and then they start the tour, something which - against all odds - he can bring the twins on. It’s going to take a village but he’s endlessly excited for the upcoming months.

He makes tiny matching jackets and buys them light up sneakers, takes them to a mini street dance class at the local community centre, and while Allie takes to it like a fish to water, he watches Noah struggle. When they get home, the kids are still singing ‘The Greatest Show’ (who decided that was a good street dance song, he will never know), and he tries on a few outfits for them. Noah’s personal favourite is the strings on his thigh-high lace-up heels. Dressed in the reunion outfit and a random pink wig of Allie’s choice, they spend the early afternoon dancing in the living room to RuPaul songs till the twins are exhausted enough for a nap. He has to carry them upstairs one by one, laying each on their bed and removing the sneakers so that they sleep better. He tucks them in, presses kisses to their foreheads, and returns to his drag studio to tidy up the mess they made.

When he hears clumsy footsteps in the hall, he turns and finds a tiny little brunette staring at him. She’s got eyes that encompass oceans, big and blue and they’re streaming as she sniffles, hugging her ballet bear (a present from Brooke) close to her. He takes two big strides and envelops her fragile frame in his, whispering words of comfort as little hands grip into his vest. “Shhhh Allie-baby,” he coos, hates hearing her cry. “‘C’mon baby girl, it’s okay.” - umber meets cerulean as he pulls her away slightly, facing her. “What happened?”

The girl balls her tiny fist around one of his vest straps, mumbles a soft and muffled “Papa,” into his torso before sniffling.

He sets her down and holds out a hand, walking her back to her bedroom like his mama always taught him to treat women. He sets her on her bed and looks at her softly. “C’mon boo, we gonna have a story?” She perks up a little, relaxes her grip on the teddy bear as she snuggles under the covers. Vanessa is momentarily impressed by how Noah is still asleep.

“Once upon a time, there was a queen called Miss Vanjie -”

Vanessa is endlessly surprised at how people step up if you let them. It’s the second week of the tour and he’s almost run out of easy ways to entertain the twins, has let them watch more YouTube than he is proud of and begins to wonder how anyone thought it was a good idea to bring them on tour (he forgets this every night when he shares a double bed with them and wakes up to them cuddled into him like a giant teddy bear). His silence comes when they are napping in his and Brooke’s respective bus bunks one afternoon, the two men happily drinking their coffees and doing absolutely nothing at all.

“You do know they’ll all help if you let them,” points out Brooke, after a while. He vaguely gestures to their sisters, lounging around the bus in various states of disarray. The shorter man just shrugs and sips his coffee.

“They’re my kids,” he says after a while. “I don’t want to inconvenience anyone.” He states it like it’s fact, like it’s at all a justification - it’s not, as far as Brooke is concerned.

“Yes,” he formulates carefully, “but we’d rather hang out with the tiny humans than be annoyed with them?”

Vanessa sighs - for not the first time in their fractured relationship, the older man is right.

So he lets people help. After their nap, Nina takes the twins into the venue with her - plays ‘Drag Is Magic’ over the loudspeakers while everything is set up around them. The shorter man watches proudly from the balcony as his kids dance to his spelling bee song, yelling the lyrics to the whole album after a couple of shows. It becomes a routine, and then afterwards, Vanessa pulls out some healthy snacks and they sit on their laps as Uncle Nina and their Papa discuss the political state of America.

Michelle walks in on this one day, the adults’ legs dangling off the stage as Allie and Noah shovel watermelon into their mouths. She looks on in pride as she sees a young man she knew could do great things, transform in front of her eyes into someone special.

On the afternoon of the Chicago show, Vanessa comes back from his rehearsal to find Scarlet performing a fashion show with the twins, Noah twirling around in Yvie’s yellow kaftan as the respective queen watch on in hysterics. The small boy is drowning in the floaty material and almost falls twice as Yvie keeps catching him. Allie’s dark hair holds a denim mane (that, in turn, is being held just above her head by Scarlet so that it doesn’t fall off). He pauses at the door for a second or two, takes in the couple as they play around with his kiddos - ‘Sissy that Walk’ blasting through a wireless speaker as they prance like lunatics.

“You two are gonna make great dads,” he teases when the song stops, winking at the men as he hoists Allie onto his hip.

Scarlet holds two fingers up in a suck-it motion and Yvie cackles loudly, as she attempts to remove her outfit from the bouncing little boy. Once she succeeds, she ruffles his hair triumphantly before leading him to the door.

“It’s been a pleasure, Vanj,” she says as Scarlet loops an arm around her waist.

“Yeah, they can bask in my excellence anytime,” adds the other queen, deadpan.

“Yeah, right bitch,” retorts Vanessa, covering Noah’s ears as Allie snuggles further into his hoodie. “Thanks though.”

Noah waves as they leave the dressing room, returning to the safe haven of his and Brooke’s where there are blankets on the chairs, toys on the floor and most importantly, Uncle Brooke.

Brooke promises to teach Noah ballet after Vanessa had a wine-fuelled rant about how ‘that boy is so fucking clumsy I swear he’s gonna give his Papa a heart attack, holy Jesus’. He sits in an empty dressing room with the kid and holds his waist while he gets him to point one foot. He might be four but he’s a quick learner and pretty soon the man has him in a nice first position. Calmer than his sister, Noah has a special place in Brooke’s heart - always considering him as taking after him more so than his Papa. They take a break after ten minutes and the boy snuggles into the Canadian’s side, warm body on cool shirt - his dark hair soft on his arm.

He takes him out for pizza afterwards, his treat (Allie and Vanessa went to a pop-up mini hip hop class so Brooke has free control). He wipes the sauce from the boy’s mouth, cuts up the pizza into smaller pieces for him and, not for the first time, feels like this is his son. It stings a little, knowing he could have had this, but resuming his place as favourite uncle helped clean over the wound a little.

On their way out, Brooke sits Noah on his shoulders, tiny hands curling into his hair. A woman bumps his arm,

“Your son is adorable,” she says and while it’s surely meant kindly it feels like someone poured a glass of ice water down his back. He nods politely, Canadian coolness running over him as he moves past.

“Papa!” calls Noah from atop his shoulders and he stops with a start. He takes a deep breath, followed by a heavy swallow before the boy speaks again.

“BrookeBrooke!” the man swings the boy around so his legs are around his waist.

“Yes, honey?” he responds eyes all warmth and kindness and furlongs of love.

“I can see Papa!”

The man swings Noah back onto his shoulders before looking around curiously. Sure enough, coming towards them from across the street are Vanessa and Allie, smiling like Cheshire cats. He raises an eyebrow but it doesn’t stop the smirk developing on his face.

With practised ease, Vanessa gently pulls Noah off Brooke’s shoulders while Brooke swings Allie onto his back. “Heya, Baby Girl,” he coos as she wraps her short arms around his neck. The warm caramel of her skin a contrast against his own Canadian pale.

He gives a familiar nod to the other man, “Hey, boo,” and they return to the theatre in easy silence. Nothing needs to be said that they both don’t already know - he can’t tell if it’s better that way.

They all go for a cast dinner. Ariel does the kids’ hair so that Vanessa can get ready in quiet for once but he misses the sound of them. He stands in his hotel room bathroom but cannot help the overwhelming emptiness he feels. Every noise he makes feels like it carries on forever - endless within the confines of the small room. He keeps flicking his eyes up to the mirror out of habit, watches the bed in the reflection like it is going to jump at him. He’s so distracted that he cuts himself shaving, feels the blood dripping down his neck before he refocuses enough to look. He moves to Ariel’s bathroom instead.

When he gets there, he hears a familiar Canadian voice through the door.

“I must save you, prince Noah!” comes the enthusiastic cry, followed by squeals of laughter.

“It’s Queen Noah,” his son replies, diving comically onto the double bed as Vanessa opens the door.

Allie and Ariel watch as the queen tries to coerce his daughter’s hair into a braid of some sorts - the look of concentration is comical as Allie keeps laughing at Brooke’s antics. He smiles, a contented smile and moves through to the bathroom, finishes getting ready in something close to peace (but loud and annoying and full of so much joy).

After the meal, Brooke and a couple of the others head to a nearby bar. He flirts recklessly with different men for a few hours, downing whatever shots they buy him and dances till his feet hurt. It doesn’t quite feel right, but it’s okay - he’s content.

Or at least he thinks he is as he turns around from a particularly attractive Puerto Rican man to see Yvie and Scarlet waving frantically at him from the bar. He mutters an apology and leaves a neat kiss on the man’s cheek before wandering over there. He’s three tequilas down and doesn’t particularly care but they’re looking at him and not each other so he assumes something must be wrong.

Something is.

They show him Scarlet’s phone (which he cannot read right now) and shout things at him that he loses the meaning of the second he hears ‘Noah’ and ‘hospital’.

He’s always thought it was a cliché when people in movies say that time stands still. Never really been impressed by the shots of the flashing lights and muffled screams, but this? This feels like a car crash in slow-motion, two trains going off the rails, a hurricane with no preparation, a fireball fired at a wooden house. It is plummeting down a hill with no pedals, no handlebars, just falling - it is too scary to be flying.

Yvie offers to drive - knows that if she doesn’t, Brooke will try and he is infinitely too drunk to do that. She gets them to the ER significantly quicker than their satnav tells them they will - cuts corners, runs a red light or two but Brooke cannot find it within him to care (Scarlet enjoys it way too much).

When they arrive, the Canadian jumps out of the car with a fervour, runs headlong into the building, grabbing onto the reception desk as he stops.

“Hi, sorry,” he heaves, partially nerves, fully out of breath from the cardio. “Noah Mateo?”

The woman sighs with disinterested boredom. “Yes, waiting room.” she says, gesturing vaguely to the open seating behind him. He turns, eyes scanning frantically, trying to locate him.

They lock eyes, Brooke racing over and pulling the shorter man into a hug, warm and long. He pulls away every so slightly before pushing his nose into the other man’s hair and inhaling deeply the smell of his cologne.

“I’m so- I’m sorry, baby,” he mutters, muffled by Vanessa’s hair. He exhales but pulls him in tighter, arms winding around him as his tears wet his white button down. They pull apart so that Vanessa can blow his nose and Brooke immediately turns on his heels to face the little girl. She’s sitting on one of the hard plastic chairs, tear tracks down her face as A’keria runs her hand through the braid Ariel had done so nicely. He kneels in front of her, takes each small hand in his.

“Allie,” he says, long, drawn out and soft. “Baby.”

She surges forwards to hug him, her petite body barely the length of his torso and he holds her close as he stands up,her head tucked into the crook of his neck. Vanessa loops an arm around his waist and leans into him for support - they must look quite like a family, he supposes blankly.

“What happened?” He asks, quiet but serious, as he thumbs Allie’s back.

“Peanuts, apparently - the woman was real mean.”

Brooke tilts his head a little, curious.

“They were on at me ‘cause I should’ve known ‘parently.” He sniffles a bit, head resting on Brooke’s heaving chest. He decides he never wants to let him go.

It’s funny, he later recalls, how emergencies bring you back to the truth. How one awful thing can reset you a little, till you see good things.

“Noah Mateo?” a nurse calls.

The entire cast stands bolt upright as Vanessa steps out of Brooke’s grasp.

“Uhuh,” he says, hoarsely.

“Two people, come with me.”

The shorter man tugs at Brooke’s arm, an invitation of sorts, as Silky unlatches Allie from him. He allows himself to be pulled through the waiting room, not looking at the rest of the families in distress, not wanting to imagine that could’ve been them. Vanessa intertwines their fingers and he squeezes his hand tightly. It’s an “okay”, a “this is going to be alright”, an “I’m here.”

The woman shows them through to a small room where Noah is on a drip; there are not as many tubes as Brooke thought there would be, and he’s so very glad, but even seeing the boy look so small - it hurts in a way he didn’t realise it could. Vanessa’s grip loosens as he breaks away, moving to grip his son’s hand fiercely. He can hear his soft murmurs as Brooke takes the opposite chair, stroking the boy’s arm.

“Por Dios. Por Dios. Por Dios.”

“I’m gonna have to make you some arroz con dulce when we get home, baby.”

The shorter man looks up at him and smiles. It’s tired, like all his energy has been removed and he’s running on coffee for the third day, but he feels the warmth in it nonetheless.

“I’m grateful you came, Brock.”

As he looks into Vanessa’s eyes, wind meeting earth, he knows there is no place he’d rather be.

They don’t discuss it until three days later when they are back in LA and the kids are at A’keria’s with Silky. Vanessa would be lying if he said that that assuaged all of his fears of leaving his kids alone, but it certainly saved some of them.

Brooke comes over and they drink wine on his couch watching ’Pretty Woman’ and discussing nothing and everything all at once. Vanessa cries at the ending (as he had every time he’s made Brooke watch it) and the taller man hands him a tissue before the tears start rolling. He smiles a wet smile and shuffles a little, so his legs touch the other man’s. As the end credits roll, he mutes the TV, facing Brooke head on.

“We, we should talk ‘bout this,” he says, calm and collected.

Brooke sits up straighter, back cracking as he moves to be more comfortable.

“Yeah,” he drawls slightly.

Vanessa nods at him to continue.

“I know we had our issues, but-but I love these kids. And I want to be here for them.”

“I don’t think I’m seeing your point,” responds the Puerto Rican - he is, but he needs him to say it.

“I want this. I want us.”

“How do I know you ‘ain’t just gonna leave again? How, Brock?”

The other man hesitates and Vanessa keeps talking.

“There are kids involved now, I need you to understand this shit.”

“I know,” the Canadian concedes. “You better believe I will protect those kids with my life.”

“That’s not the point though. What’s different now?” This stumps Brooke as the other man gets more and more frustrated. He’s tired and upset and wants this more than anything but there is more on the line than a title and some money. There is life - human life filled with blood and flesh and emotions and love and he can’t just offer that up as collateral.

Brooke reaches out across the invisible canyon that spans the sofa, grabs his hand in an oblivion that he doesn’t quite know how to talk his way through.

“My mama always taught me not to make promises I can’t keep,” and Vanessa’s heart breaks a little.

“But I promise those kids will be my priority until the day I fucking die.”

Vanessa hums a little, his face a mix between unhappy acceptance and overwhelmed. He’s been watching Brooke through this, hopeful but always a little cautious. His heart is telling him to jump this man’s bones run to Brooke, to hold on and never let go. But his head has reservations.

Brooke can sense the apprehension from miles off, smells it like a wolf sniffing out its prey. He wants to hold him and promise the world but he’s already done that - those kids are his world.

“Whatever freedom I have doesn’t compare to how I feel when I’m with you, José, and if I can’t have that, I don’t want anyone.”

It’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back, the boulder that sets off the avalanche, as Vanessa surges forward to wrap his arms around his neck, pushing Brooke’s back into the cushions of the sofa.

“I would have taken you back at the promise,” he mutters, smiling into his neck.

“I would have waffled until the end of time,” replies the other man, a grin adorning his face. It suits him, Vanessa decides as he pulls back.

“FUCK, SHIT, FUCK!” he exclaims suddenly. “WE NEED TO PICK UP THE KIDS.”

The inclusion of ‘we’ doesn’t go unnoticed as Brooke dies laughing on the couch, the man’s sudden change of mood utterly hilarious to him.

“HURRY YOUR ASS UP, BROCK, OR THERE WILL BE NO COOKIES.”

They arrive at A’keria’s stressed and tired, LA traffic still too much for the both of them. When Silky opens the door (with a raised eyebrow at the pair who look on sheepishly), the twins rush out to meet them. It’s late, and Vanessa should be mad that they’re not asleep but as he watches them tackle Brooke to the ground - he realises he doesn’t care.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #nina west #yvie oddly #scarlet envy #ariel versace #branjie #scyvie #s11 #fluff #hurt/comfort #parenting au #if we have eachother #pinkgrapefruit #dad!vanjie #concrit welcome #submission #canon compliant

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drageverywhere · 3 years ago

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#vanessa vanjie mateo #😻#so cute #I love this and I love them #thackery says 🕵🏻‍♂️ just like his dad lol #also V looks hoooot

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bitch-exe · 6 years ago

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finally some good fucking food

#my three dads #miss vanjie #vanessa vanjie mateo #brooke lynn hytes #nina west #rpdr #rpdr s11 #rupauls drag race #drag race #branjie #greatest hits lol

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sohytes · 6 years ago

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“breaking americas heart on television must have done wonders to his pillowtalks with one night stands” omfg. (I laughed very much)

brooke doesn't even try during interviews at this point, she straight up looks like she's thinking this:

so there's no way shit hasn't gotten messy with some rpdr stans. I feel like she laughed about it the first times, while now she directly bought a ball gag.

#oh so you're into breath play? did vanjie use to like that?#im literally going to fuck your dad if you keep talking

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pink-grapefruit-cafe · 6 years ago

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oh yeah i decided i was doing this. if i didnt post a prologue i was never going to write it.

#coming to your screens this summer?#i hope?#also i love dad vanjie

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authenticalt · 3 years ago

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I know litterally noone cares, but I saw atrend on Instagram too show your pet(s), and then what/ who they were named after, and I wanted to do it.

So first we have Kubo

And then there's Miss Vanji

#yes i decided to drop the 'e' in Vanjie #i thought it looked better with just the 'i'#but my dad actually named Vanji bc she was reciting the meme and then the cat ran real fast by after she had been hiding all day #so dad decided her name was Vanjie and then i changed it to Vanji.#and then I named Kubo #we were actually told she was a boy when we got her and I wanted a unique name that was actually cool #and idk i had Kubo and the Two Strings on the mind i guess lol #and so I named her Kubo #dad wanted me to change her name after we found out she was a girl but i didnt want to #i still liked the name Kubo

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mykryncolleague · 4 years ago

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Can you please update beauty in the sheets!!!!!! 🥺 I just started reading it and I can’t wait to see what happens.

Ah anon. I have sad news for you. I’ve decided to not write more on beauty. And I’ve also decided to orphan of The work. So you can still read it, but it’s out of my hands now.

All I Can give you is this:

- spoilers ahead -

My plan for the story was always to have Brooke and V end up together. But it was going to be fucking difficult. It would take ages for Patrick to finally realise that he was a dick and divorce Brooke. Vanjie would spend months making B grovel before she forgave her lying about being married.

As for B’s dad? Well. His conservative butt realised that his actions had affected actual people, and after Brooke told him about Vanessa, they spent a year before they spoke again. By then. Her dad had realised that he sucked and he needed to do better.

As for Brooke and ‘Ness? Well. I’ve always imagined that they got engaged the moment the divorce with Patrick was finalised. I wanted it to be a spur of the moment decision on B’s part. Super fumbly and cute.

But most important? They ended up having a daughter. Named Jasmine. And you know what? I think they ended up being happy. They certainly had lots of sex and grew old together. ✨

#beauty in the sheets #Branjie #rpdr fanfiction

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theartificialdane · 4 years ago

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Vanjie didn’t say much about her dad but at the same time... she said enough 😃

At this point I’m ready to take any scraps of Vanjie saying connected sentences about any of her life 🙈😂

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barbiehytes · 4 years ago

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As a cancer I’m high key offended but I forgive you. And I hope you can forgive yourself for not recognizing the the most caring sign for what we are. Nurturing and amaz-balls

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

babe i would but my dad is a double cancer and my detached aquarius ass HAS HAD IT (also one of my ex boyfriends was and you can imagine how that ended djsjsj rip)

But you do be great sometimes!!!! (apparently not just in my life lmao)

Lana del rey is a cancer ✊💖

Edit: ANON CANCER CAN YOU COME BACK AND TELL ME YOUR FAVORITE VANJIE OUTFIT PLS 💀

#anons being helpful and great #anons being cancer and forgiving

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missjanjie · 3 years ago

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Taste of a Poison Paradise | Chapter 9

Title: Taste of a Poison Paradise Summary: Life at Jackie Cox’s strip club, Poison Paradise, isn’t just lapdances and g-strings. There’s enough drama, lust, and heartache to rival any soap opera. None of the girls know what to expect on any given shift, especially while navigating their torrid, complicated relationships. Word Count: ~2.9k (this chapter) / ~27.2k (total) Relationship(s): Lemyanka (Lemon/Priyanka), Crygi (Crystal Methyd/Gigi Goode), Sportsdoll (Jan Sport/Nicky Doll), Jaidie (Jaida Essence Hall/Jackie Cox), BVK (Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo/Kameron Michaels), Rosnali (Rosé/Denali Foxx) Rating: E TW: mentions of alcoholism

Read on AO3 | Ko-Fi

Chapter Summary: In the wake of Lemon's outburst at the club, those closest to her process the fallout and realize something needs to be done before she spirals to the point of no return.

“Okay, I think that’s the last box,” Juice remarked as she dropped herself down onto the couch. “So, why’d your cousin kick you out again?”

Lemon scoffed and rolled her eyes as she piled up the empty boxes. “She didn’t kick me out, we both decided it was time for me to move.” She decided her college friend-turned-roommate didn’t need to know about the argument she had with Rosé. And she certainly didn’t need to know that she’d rejected her ultimatum of, “if you want to stay here, you can’t keep getting drunk every day.” It had been a week since the incident at the club and she was going to recover from it on her own terms.

“Alright, cool,” she shrugged as she took out her phone and began aimlessly scrolling. “You wanna do something tonight?”

The blonde perched herself on the armrest of the couch, swinging her legs. “We could go to a club and get shitfaced,” she suggested.

Juice shook her head without looking up from her phone. “You can. I mean, I’ll totally go with you and turn shit up, but I don’t drink.”

“More for me.”

Her friend looked her over with a concerned expression, eyes finally pried away from the screen. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked gently. “I mean, I know you’ve been through a lot, have you considered talking to someone about it?”

Lemon shook her head. “I’m fine, I don’t have the emotional capacity for therapy.” She got back up and looked around. “Shit, I guess you don’t have any liquor in here then. I’ll be back,” and after putting her shoes on and grabbing her purse, she was out the door, leaving a concerned new roommate in her wake.

------

Rosé sighed as she passed the joint back to Mik. “This doesn’t make me a bad person, right? I mean the last thing I want to do is make Lemon’s issues about me. But god, that really is what made me realize that I have to do this.”

Mik shook her head as she took a hit. “It’s not your fault, you saw a trainwreck and realized you needed to keep your ass on the tracks.” She finished off the joint and put it out. “Listen, the last thing you wanna do is be that girl who pines over the person she’s sleeping with until it’s too late.”

“You’re right, I know. I’m gonna talk to her,” she exhaled deeply as she pushed herself up. “If Lemon comes around, please don’t have sex with her.”

“Oh fuck off,” she huffed, “that delayed her mental breakdown by at least a week.”

Rosé rolled her eyes as she left. She wasn’t mad at Mik for that, if anything maybe it did help Lemon temporarily by giving her a distraction. But she had so much more on her mind, things that have been brewing since the club incident.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she knocked on Denali’s door, evening out her breathing while she waited for her.

“Hey Rosie,” Denali smiled warmly as she opened the door, leading her inside and shutting it behind them. “What’s up? You usually text me when you’re on your way over.” They sat down on the couch as she spoke, a tinge of concern in her voice.

She swallowed thickly, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. “I know I’ve been distant lately with everything that’s been happening with Lemon. But through all the chaos, I realized something, that keeping your feelings bottled up is dangerous.” Another deep breath, this time she forced herself to look into Denali’s eyes, eyes that she found warmth and comfort in every time she gazed into them. “What I’m trying to say is that I have feelings for you. I don’t just wanna be fuck buddies, it’s not enough. I need all of you.”

Denali blinked, taking her time to process Rosé’s confession. At first it was pure surprise, but once she let it sink in, it clicked that she felt the same way, that she had been falling for her all along without realizing it. “You have all of me,” she told her, cupping her face and pressing a deep kiss to her lips.

In that moment, a weight lifted from Rosé’s chest. If only for the duration of a kiss, she could pretend nothing in the world existed outside of Denali’s apartment. She could stop thinking, stop worrying. It was only them, everything else faded to black. “Are we alone?” she asked against her lips.

“Mhm,” she nodded, a slight smirk tugging at her lips, able to fill in the blanks from there. Her hands traveled down Rosé’s body, tugging off her shirt in one swift motion, her own following suit, though they took their time undressing each other, letting their fingers and lips gently caress each other’s skin.

By the time they were both completely undressed, they had gotten each other thoroughly worked up. Rosé had Denali sit up on the couch, then got on her knees in front of her, pushing her thighs apart. She moved in between them, dragging her tongue along her pussy before circling, then sucking on her clit as she eased a finger into her.

Denali’s head lolled back to rest against the back of the couch, a pleased moan escaping. “Mm, Rosie…” she exhaled, her hips pushing up when Rosé slid in a second finger. “Baby, just like that, feels so good.”

She basked in the praise, continuing her movements, occasionally switching her tongue and her fingers, but never leaving her unattended. She was focused and fervent, bringing Denali to an orgasm as quickly as she could, as if she were setting it as a challenge to herself. Once she’d won her game, she pulled back with a smile, gazing up at her. “God, you’re beautiful.”

“And you’re sappy,” she teased affectionately, leaning down to kiss her. “Come on,” she got up and pulled Rosé to her feet, “we can cuddle until I gotta get ready for my shift.”

------

Nicky watched Jan with a concerned expression. She wished she knew what to do, how to talk to her and help her. Ever since the incident at the club, she had been quiet, withdrawn, two words she would never think to associate with the bubbly woman she loved so dearly. It killed her to see her girlfriend hurting, enough for her to put her aversion to emotional conversations aside as she sat beside her on the couch, gently taking her hand. “Please tell me what’s wrong. You haven’t been the same since what happened with Lemon and I’m worried about you.”

Jan chewed on her lip, her gaze downcast. Logically, she knew she couldn’t avoid this conversation forever, but it didn’t make it any easier. “Lemon is like a sister to me and I’m worried about her. I know what alcoholism looks like… and I know what it can do to someone, it’s not pretty.”

She furrowed her brows, shifting closer to the younger woman. “What do you mean?”

“Well, um…” she swallowed thickly, “my dad’s five years sober now, but it hit a nasty low before it got better. I-I don’t know what that low would be for Lemon, I’m afraid she’s hit it, but I’m even more afraid she hasn’t.”

Nicky nodded as she listened. She had suspected Lemon might have developed a bit of a drinking habit, but not the severity, and certainly not the effect it would have on Jan. “I am so sorry about your father, and about Lemon. Is there anything we can do?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “My dad went to rehab while I was away at college, but I imagine my mom laid down some ultimatums, but I don’t know if Lemon thinks she has anything left to lose.”

“There has to be some way, and I'm going to help you find it,” she promised.

------

“Thank you all for meeting me here,” Juice said as she looked around the two pushed-together tables in the diner. “For those of you who don’t know, my name is Julia - Juice - and Lemon moved in with me about four days ago.”

“What happened?” Rosé immediately asked. “Is she okay?”

The blonde hesitated and looked down at the table. “Technically yes, she’s nursing a hangover at home right now but otherwise fine, unless she’s started day drinking. But there’s a bigger issue, and I’m sure you guys have started to suspect as much. What I’m trying to say is she’s developing an alcohol problem, and if we don’t do something about it now, it could get much worse.”

Everyone else had similar expressions - sadness, concern, anxiety. But none of them were surprised. “What do we do, then?” Rosé asked, breaking a tense moment of silence.

“Listen, I’m not claiming to be an expert. I’m twenty-two, sober for eight months now, so I can relate to how she’s feeling. What she’s going to need is everyone to rally around her, because it won’t be easy to convince her to get help.”

“So can we stage an intervention?” Jaida asked. “Do you have someone we can talk to?”

Juice nodded. “I can talk to my sponsor and have her put us in touch with someone who can get her into a detox, put the whole thing together. It goes so far beyond just telling her to stop drinking, especially in a club environment.”

“Speaking of the club environment,” Gigi chimed in, “we have to address the elephant in the room. What are we gonna do about the Priyanka situation? She told Crystal she’s taking a day job until things cool off, but if Lemon gets help… maybe that’ll expedite the process.”

Jackie sighed, but agreed. “I can open auditions to take on another dancer temporarily, I don’t know how long she’s gonna need, but assuming she chooses to get help, I want her to know she has a place to come back to.” She was quiet for a moment, then added, “I’m going to reach out to Priyanka too, I know she hasn’t been answering most of our calls or texts, but I think I might be able to get through to her.”

“My god, we’ve been so caught up with Lemon, we’ve barely kept up with Pri. Are we bad friends?” Jan asked, feeling a mix of guilt and sadness.

Juice shook her head. “No, of course not. Everyone here is doing their best. You guys reach out to Priyanka and figure out a way to get Lemon to the intervention when the time comes, I’ll do what I can on my part.” From there, they all just had to hope for the best.

------

Jackie took a deep breath, making sure she was calm and collected before knocking on the door. When a woman with black hair and tattoos opened the door, she greeted her politely. “Hi, you must be Scarlett. Um, can you tell Priyanka that Jackie’s here to see her?”

Scarlett nodded, disappearing back into her apartment. There was a solid few minutes of waiting, but Priyanka eventually came to the door. “Hey,” she greeted meekly and led Jackie inside.

Jackie sat at the edge of the bed in the guest room Priyanka had been staying in. “How have you been? You know we’re all worried about you.”

Priyanka’s gaze never left the floor. She picked pieces of lint off of her shorts as she sat down as well, swinging her legs aimlessly. How could she even begin to tackle that question when everything she had ever known had changed overnight? How can anyone process that sort of thing? “Scarlett convinced me to try therapy. I’ve had a couple sessions so far… It helped, I think, but it’s just scratching the surface, you know?”

She listened attentively, nodding along. “I’m proud of you for that. How did your family react when you and Mark broke up?”

“It’s funny, as angry as he was, he didn’t out me. He said it’s clear I have my own problems to work through. My mom was furious that the wedding was called off, so I threw in the ‘I like girls’ news because, well, it couldn’t get any worse,” she sighed. “I don’t think it’s fully hit her yet. She asked me if it was an excuse to get out of the wedding. I haven’t heard back since I told her it was the truth, and I haven’t heard from my dad at all.” She laid back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I couldn’t even say that I’m gay. It’s too much, I can’t just be gay,” she sat back up and grabbed a tissue, quickly dabbing the corners of her eyes. “How do you get past it, Jackie? How do you stop being afraid of yourself?”

Jackie pressed her lips together as she tried to articulate an answer. “There’s no easy solution, but I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now. I don’t think I was ever ready to be gay, one day I just came to terms with the fact that I was miserable trying to avoid my own truth and that the only way I was ever going to be happy was by loving even the scariest parts of myself.”

Priyanka went quiet again, crumpling the tissue in her hand and staring at it as if the answers were there. “So you don’t think I’ll be able to be fully happy until I embrace being gay?”

“That’s for you to decide. But think of it this way; when you think about your future, best case scenario, what is it in your life that’s making you happy?”

The answer for that wasn’t in her hand, it was in her heart. It made its way into her throat, choking her from the inside and making her pulse race. After everything, it nearly made her angry that it felt inevitable. “Lemon.”

------

“Juice just texted me that they’re on the way,” Rosé read off her phone, her free hand squeezing Denali’s tight, her leg bouncing anxiously.

The woman they’d brought in to help Lemon, Widow, nodded calmly. “Remember, at the end of the day we are here to help her. We’re not punishing or lecturing her, but we have to be firm.”

After another review of the plan, they heard the door open and looked up to see the two girls walk in, Lemon’s expression immediately becoming confused as she looked around. “Are you guys fucking intervention-ing me?” she asked as she took the empty seat to the right of Rosé.

“Lemon, your friends and family are here because they care about you and are worried about your health,” Widow explained. “Now, I know what you’re thinking, ‘this bitch wants to send me to some random rehab until I come back sober for good’, but this isn’t like that. We get that you’re twenty-one, fresh out of college, no history of addiction.”

“So why am I here?” Lemon interjected.

Rosé arched her brow. “Well, for starters, you haven’t been sober a full twenty-four hours in nearly three weeks, you’ve been acting completely unhinged every time you get trashed. You’re actively trying to alienate yourself from everyone who cares about you, you-” She stopped short when Denali squeezed her hand, her cue to reel it in. “You’re going down a dangerous path and we don’t want you to get hurt.”

“This isn’t one of those ninety-day programs either,” Jackie chimed in. “It’s only three weeks, and the first five days are just for detoxing. We’re not saying you have to be sober for good, this isn’t AA, it’s a program that’s going to give you the support and help you need to still enjoy things in moderation instead of relying on alcohol as a coping mechanism.”

Lemon nodded and listened as the rest of the group said their pieces to try to convince her to go. And she took it in, but she was also looking around and at the door. After a while, it became clear that she was waiting for - hoping for - another person.

“Priyanka wanted to come,” Jackie told her. “But we weren’t sure how you would react and decided it would be better if she waited at least until after you detox to contact you. You have to know, though, she really does care about you.”

She sunk further into her chair, not angry, but embarrassed. It shouldn’t have had to come to this, she knew that, knew better. And she hated that everything they said was right, that she did need help. “Fine,” she mumbled, “I’ll go.”

There was a collective sigh of relief as the tension dissipated throughout the room. “Rosé and Juice will go back with you to your apartment so you can pack, we’re going to get you checked in tonight,” Widow explained. “The facility is in Westchester, you won’t be more than an hour away and visitation is every Saturday.”

Rosé looked at her younger cousin and could tell she was doing her best to cover her fear and anxiety. She wrapped her arms around her and hugged her tightly. “You’re going to be okay, baby,” she promised, “they’re gonna take good care of you, and you’re gonna be better than ever once you’re done.”

Lemon nodded quietly, wiping her eyes. “I just wanna get this over with,” she mumbled, still unwilling to allow herself to be vulnerable in front of everyone, though the group anticipated that from her and let it be. All any of them could do now was trust the process.

#rosnali #lemyanka #sportsdoll #rpdr rpf

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artificialqueens · 6 years ago

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if we have eachother (Branjie/Ninex/Everyone) 2/5 - PinkGrapefruit

chapter one.

chapter two. in which family means adventure

A/N - I’ve got 10/27 exams left and that’s something to celebrate. I really love this chapter, it’s soft as all hell and I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed Frey and Qtips comments on it (thanks to them it looks like I can use punctuation). Anyway, Enjoy!

When the kids start school Vanessa comes to the startling revelation that he can’t keep doing this (this being travelling non-stop, gigs across the country and long-ass tours) - it’s not a bittersweet farewell, but it’s the end of an era, he supposes. And then he makes himself a set of rules instead. One tour a year, no more than two weeks, must be able to find childcare. Avoid international gigs without another queen. No gigs on school nights. And it works, for three years, it works perfectly, and then the kids are eight and they’re moving house and he realises that,god , he misses touring - just a little bit. Misses the feeling of waking up in a different city than you fell asleep, new crowds every night, the atmosphere of it all. But he wakes up in his king-sized bed curled up around a Canadian hunk, and sometimes there’s still a child on his back if it’s been a really bad night, and he also knows he wouldn’t give it up for the world.

He does a gig at least every week, got a steady hosting job at Micky’s WeHo on a Friday night and Brooke doesn’t work them, so it’s his night with the kids while Vanessa dips and twirls and screams on stage, whipping the crowd up into a frenzy before announcing the latest in a stream of Drag Race girls and up-and-coming queens. Sometimes Silky or A’keria joins him and they have a proper good time of it, but even when he’s alone up there he still feels as at home as he does on the sofa, Allie on his lap, legs on Brooke’s who has an arm around Noah as they watch ‘Clueless' or something else that is definitely not appropriate for eight-year-olds, but ‘our kids are gonna know shit, babe - I didn’t have them for them to be uncultured.’

On his days off, he goes full ‘PTA dad’ as Brooke likes to call that - it better be as affectionate as Brooke’s ‘Dance Mom’ title - stemming from him watching Noah and Allie dance like he himself is doing it - but Vanessa isn’t quite willing to take that chance. He makes the kids packed lunches every day while the rest of the family is asleep. He cuts the sandwiches into little animals and the fruit into stars using cutters Brooke and the twins bought for Fathers’ Day, and usually halfway through, more often than not at this point, his man will traipse down the stairs and wordlessly make them both coffees in their ‘world’s best dad’ mugs, which they’ll sip at the table, holding hands and watching the news until they have to get the kids up for school. Allie is always easier to wake up, so they alternate who wakes up who, and get them dressed for the day before Brooke tries (and fails) to make pancakes, Vanessa sitting at the table with his coffee and dying laughing like it’s not a daily thing.

The kids had been excited when he told them ‘Uncle Brook’ would be living with them all the time, even though they stopped calling him that years ago and he’s basically living at theirs anyway (his flat is more of a glorified drag closet than a flat at this point). They switch between ‘Brock’ for everyday stuff and ‘Dad’ in really tender moments, ever since Allie slipped up at an ice-rink one Christmas and had cried into his arms. Secretly Vanessa can’t wait until they call him ‘Dad’ all the time, but he already has a mug from the last Fathers’ Day so he figures they’re getting pretty close.

They move on a Tuesday, out of the cosy condo they’ve always lived in. It’s only a little across LA, still close enough to go to the same school, but they’ve been saving all the extra money they have to mortgage a little townhouse and it’s everything they could have asked for. Allie squeals as she runs through the door, sprints up the carpeted stairs before Vanessa can call out to her, screaming “PAPA, PAPA, LOOK!” as she counts the bedrooms again and again. There’s four: one for each kid that they can grow into, one for him and Brooke, and one for drag. The drag room might be the second biggest - they’re not ashamed.

They get Monique, Monét and Nina over to paint and decorate, and as Nina and Brooke do the heavy lifting downstairs, Monique and Monét start painting Noah’s room. It’s a periwinkle blue, something he’d been insistent on when they’d been planning, Chinese food and paint swatches littering the table like some sort of fun brainstorming session - it was, but it ended with the adults drinking red wine on the couch and Vanessa bitching about PTA moms. It turns out that Monique doesn’t understand how to use a paint roller and Vanessa leans against the door, watching as she rolls it horizontally. Monét has to sit down - she’s laughing so hard - and it draws the kids upstairs to watch as the queen can’t string together a sentence properly. It’s a hot day, so he goes downstairs to make juice, but when he hears Monét teaching the twins ‘Yo mama’ jokes - he can’t help but tell Nina, “your man is corrupting my babies”. Nina blushes frantically as she tries to put together an Ikea chair, Brooke already having built the other three.

“How’s it going with him by the way?” He asks, nodding his head upstairs with a smile.

“It’s really good,” she replies, handing the chair carcass to the other man who puts it together without even thinking, half paying attention to the conversation, half staring at Vanessa in his painting shorts. Brooke is topless, so Vanessa is only half paying attention too.

“We talked about kids the other night,” She continues, coyly. “We’re thinking of doing what you did.”

“Adoption? That’s amazing, Andrew!”

“Seriously, I can’t think of anyone better,” adds Brooke, beaming at his best friend.

“We’re looking at international, we think, but it’s a little too early to say.”

“I’m really happy for you, mate, we both are,” Brooke says, standing to wrap an arm around his man’s waist, kissing his temple lightly before taking the pitcher and the cups and gesturing upstairs. Vanessa nods slightly, leaning into his body before helping Nina to unpack the table. Neither of them can follow furniture instructions, he goes back to painting Allie’s room yellow in a matter of minutes.

They somehow finish all the painting by Thursday, get to move from all sleeping in the master bedroom (the only one they’d pre-decorated) to finally sleeping in their own rooms, and the first night the two spend alone they just enjoy the amount of space they have. They enjoy it for about 5 minutes, all stretched out, and then they return to their natural state instead, Vanessa curled up into Brooke’s side, head on his shoulder, one leg over his waist like he’s trying to climb the man. He isn’t, but Brooke would argue otherwise.

Noah dances in the school talent show, a feat neither of his parents thought possible until he asked Brooke for help one day after school, citing a show in three or so weeks. Vanessa knows that his boys have spent every night since, hunkered down in the garage blasting something that sounds classical, probably. It’s Brookes expertise, he and Allie have just been baking healthy cookies and watching ’The Office’. Neither of them is complaining.

He knows how much work has gone into the minute-long solo, so when he watches it, he is so proud. So proud that he is crying and the phone he’s holding up to film is removed from his hand by Brooke who takes over, because he is shaking too much to get a good video. If he posts it on Facebook after, he can’t be blamed. He has the best kids, he really does.

“Papa!” Noah calls out to him as he runs from the door next to the stage. “Papa! I won!” And Vanessa swears that if Brooke didn’t film that too, he’s not sleeping in their bed.

“I know baby, I’m so proud of you!” He says as he pulls him in, bear hugs him like he has since the boy was three.

“Do you want to get ice cream, buddy?” Calls Brooke from where he’s got Allie’s hand in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in another. When the pair walk over, he kneels in front of Noah with a smile. “You see, dancers get flowers when they do really well,” and he hands his son them, “So we got you some.”

Vanessa pulls Allie into his side as Brooke and Noah hug, the bouquet held out awkwardly so as not to squish it.

“Ice cream.” Allie declares definitively and they all laugh.

The kids’ ninth birthdays come too quick for Vanessa’s liking. He’s had them for almost six years and that scares him more than he lets on. He always wonders if he’s raising them right, if they can really be well adjusted with two drag queens as parents, but then he remembers that really they’ve got an entire family of drag queens and that makes him feel a little better.

He hosts a traditional Puerto Rican dinner for their birthdays. He sends Brooke around Los Angeles to find the perfect plantains, yelling through the car Bluetooth that, ‘Yes I need green ones’, but also ‘THEY NEED TO BE BROWN AND SQUISHY, WHAT ARE YOU NOT UNDERSTANDING.’ He explains, when he gets home, that there are two ways you use plantains - super ripe or super squishy. He needs both. Brooke just laughs.

The man comes up behind him when he is trying to fry the tostones, wraps his strong arms around his waist and kisses his neck softly, “My little housewife,” before dipping his finger in the mayo-ketchup and leaving before Vanessa can beat his ass with the spoon. He frets around the kitchen all day until he’s made an entire banquet of classic dishes from arroz con habichuelas to pastelón de amarillos and pollo guisado. And then, somehow, he finds the energy to fret about table decorations for a little while longer.

It is the eve of the twins’ birthday and everyone is over, the food is already mostly gone and they’re all sat around the long table Brooke created through the open plan living area, chatting and yelling every-which-way. It’s noisy and ridiculous and there’s no place they’d rather be.

Nina plans for them all to go to Disney for ‘Gotcha Day’ in August and Vanessa pawns his Friday show off on A’keria and Silky the second he can. They pack easily, Brooke and the kids piling into the family ford, and tailing Nina and Monét the whole way there, switching Brooke and Monét out halfway because Brooke ‘has a headache’.

Unbeknownst to Vanessa, Brooke and Nina sit in Nina’s classic beetle planning a proposal. Brooke has the ring in his pocket, has had it in there since they left LA an hour before (the traffic is horrendous), and it feels like it’s burning through the shorts. Like a hot potato, he needs to pass it to someone else. He puts it in Nina’s rucksack instead.

They discuss it at length (although ‘discuss’ implies that it wasn’t just Nina orchestrating the entire thing) and quickly realise that Vanessa has always wanted her fairytale, so maybe it needs to be somewhere truly magical - somewhere from her favourite Disney film… “ARIEL!” Brooke shouts, startling Nina slightly as the Canadian grins at her from the passenger seat. “You know Disney, Nina, where is there an Ariel bit?”

Nina pauses for a second while she changes gear, her eyebrow quirking up as she thinks. “I know a guy,” she says, “There’s a ‘Little Mermaid’ ride and there’s a model where Ariel and Eric are sat in a boat, so maybe, I was thinking, you could go behind the scenes and propose there?”

Brooke lights up as they pull into the carpark. “Could you make that happen?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Papa, do you want the rest of your Dole Whip?”

“Yes, baby.”

“Brookie, do you need the rest of your Dole Whip?”

“Uhuh.”

“Monét, are you going to eat the rest of your Dole Whip?”

“Yup, kiddo, it’s mine.”

“Nini, can I have the rest of you Dole Whip?”

“Sure, here you go, kid.”

“NINA.”

“You sure you’re tall enough to ride, baby?”

“I swear to god , Brock, imma kick you if you make that joke again.”

“Papa? Can we buy Mickey’s ears?”

“I’ll get you them, kiddos.”

“Nina, no. Ugh, fine. Kids, say thank you to Uncle Nina.”

“You know you love it, Vanj.”

“Sure.”

Monét takes the ring out of Nina’s rucksack while she’s on the 'Under the Sea’ ride with Vanessa and the kids. She hands it to Brooke with a pointed stare and a muttered joke about ’forgetting everything, you dumb bitch’ before dutifully returning to the small pile of rucksacks they’ve accumulated as a unit. Brooke smiles down at it as he thumbs the black velvet box, opens it briefly - just to check - before shoving it deep into his cargo shorts. “They’re practical!” He’d defended in response to the ridicule of his soon-to-be fiancé that morning, pairing the offending shorts with a white Mickey Mouse T-Shirt (that matched Noah’s).

When everyone gets off the ride, Nina claps her hands as if to make an announcement before turning to the kids. “So, you know your papa likes Ariel? I may have arranged something, follow me.”

The kids squeal as Nina leads them down a slightly hidden hallway behind the ride, pushes open the doorway like she owns the place. Monét hoists Allie up onto her shoulders and runs ahead, leaves Vanessa and Brooke bringing up the rear, hands entwined.

Brooke giggles as he watches his boyfriend get excited over every little aspect of it, the music playing even though the ride is shut for 'maintenance’. He can feel himself get a little swept up in the magic, letting the kids run ahead as they near the point he’s going to do it.

It’s a model of Ariel and Eric sat in the boat, hands clasped as they face each other. He pulls Vanessa over with a smile, requests Nina take a picture of them re-enacting. They face each other, holding hands and looking into each other’s eyes for a second before Vanessa turns to Nina and gives the cheesiest grin he’s ever seen.

Brooke takes the moment.

He slowly moves down onto one knee as Vanessa whips his head back around, staring at him. His head tilts to the side and his eyes start to water as the Canadian lets go of one hand to reach into his pocket. He knows what’s coming, sees the glint of the ring before the box is even fully open, eyes pouring with tears as he looks to Nina to make sure this is definitely happening. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Monét, knelt with the twins, beaming. He melts a little more.

“José, my love,” Brooke sighs, relaxes his shoulders as he looks back up at the man. “It’s been a long, long road to get here, but I’m so glad we took it.” Vanessa nods, glassy-eyed. “For the record, I asked the kids’ permission to do this,” he chuckles quietly, “Allie only told me she would have to call me Dad. I don’t know about you but that doesn’t seem like a bad price.” Brooke tears up too now, his hand clammy in the other man’s as he squeezes it loosely.

“I love you more than life itself and I really want to share a drag closet with you, a coffee machine, and children, and a last name. I want it all, and I want it with you. ”

“Yes,” Vanessa whispers and Brooke swats at him.

“I haven’t finished yet, bitch.”

“Sorry.” He flushes a subtle red under the set lights - the slight strobing making his tears glitter like diamonds. Only diamonds would be good enough for him, Brooke decides.

“José, will you marry me?”

“No.”

“Baby.” He raises an eyebrow but the contented smile stays, he doesn’t need to worry, knows the real answer and the exact way the man’s mouth will form it, soft consonants and a hard vowel.

“Yes, Brock, always yes.”

They kiss and it feels like victory - crossing the line of a racetrack on an easy win, knowing you earned that crown, that trophy, that kiss. They melt into one for just a second and it’s all Vanessa needs to say everything.

Then the twins are running towards them at an alarming rate. “Dad! Papa!” They shout and it almost brings Brooke to tears again as he picks up Allie, spinning her round and round before pulling her close. She’s getting big and he almost can’t do it anymore butgoddammit he’s going to try. As he holds his fiancé and their kids close, he watches Monét press a kiss to Nina’s temple, thanks God for the family he has.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #nina west #monet x change #monique heart #branjie #ninex #fluff #hurt/comfort #dad!vanjie #if we have eachother #pinkgrapefruit #concrit welcome #submission #canon compliant #parenting au

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