Bambi Eyed || Katya x Reader fic

Chapter 1: Movies

You'd been roommates with Katya for a while now, but friends for far longer, having met through mutual social circles. Because you were a model - though relatively green - she hired you for the promotional shoot of her new album. Then, due to your shared twisted sense of humour, you clicked right off the bat, and as your friendship and working relationship progressed, you eventually decided to share an apartment to split the insane cost of living in this city. You got used to each other's hectic working schedules, both of you working in the entertainment industry meant a lot of patience for late night home comings and barely seeing each other sometimes.

Brian had taken up the master bedroom and the office due to his drag, but you didn't mind; most of your 'work clothes' were provided on set, you seldom kept anything. It meant you were more than happy with the smaller bedroom just off the lounge room. You had left your life behind and kept meagre possessions, so you needed very little space.

On one of your nights off, you were sat on the couch, watching Silence of the Lambs on the television, nursing a chilled glass of wine. Having not even kept track of time and fully immersing yourself in the cinematic experience - lights off, curtains to the balcony drawn, surrounding yourself with just the film - you jolted in surprise when hands landed on your shoulders.

"Have the lambs stopped screaming, Clarice?" Brian - or Katya, as she was still in drag - asked darkly in your ear.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph!" you cried.

"Not likely, Barbara," she replied in her Maureen voice. "Though, maybe that Mary. I heard she was a whore."

Chuckling softly and completely withdrawn from the film now, you turned to see Katya wander to the kitchen light switch, bathing the apartment in light. Her red knee-high boots were clutched in one hand - so that was how she snuck up on you. "I could have killed you, you know?"

She grinned. "Doubtful. I think I would have gotten you first. Though a nice evisceration on a Saturday night does sound quite pleasant." She tossed her boots to the side, fetching a red bull from the fridge.

"At this time of night?" you asked scornfully. "You have a heart murmur."

Wheezing out a giggle, she slapped her thigh. "I do! I do!" A grin leapt to your face; her laughter was so infectious. "But a woman needs at least one vice in her life. More to the point, you dare watch that movie without me, you unvenerated whore?" She was aiming a sharpened red nail at you now, bright blue eyes narrowed.

"In my defence, I didn't even know you'd be home so soon."

"Oh, I see. So you're doing these things behind my back then? We're at that point in our relationship now?" She tsk'd, clicking her tongue. "Heart broken."

You suppressed the niggle in your chest at her words. Though in absolute denial over it, over time you had found yourself developing feelings for Brian, much to your dismay. Whether it was the age gap (you were in your mid-twenties and he in his late thirties) or the more omnipresent issue of his sexuality, you knew it was a pipe dream at best, a heart break at worst, so you ignored it as best you could. Besides, you'd never ruin such a great friendship for a school-girl crush.

"I did send Brenda the divorce papers," you replied, scooping your wine glass from the table, swirling it dramatically. "It's about time we had this conversation."

Her face fell, placing a theatrical hand to her heart. "You're leaving me? You bitch! I can change! I can be a better woman." She approached the couch, dropping to her knees beside you, hands on the arm of the chair.

You sniffed, taking a sip. "I feel it's entirely too late, now. You can have the kids. I'll take the fortune." Looking up to the side, away from her, you held back a giggle. The pair of you often played these little games for fun, it was one your favourite parts of the friendship.

Your smile faltered, however, when two warm hands landed on your thighs, a weight dipping the cushion beside you. Turning, you could see she'd slid up onto the couch beside you, leaning in close. Her eyes burned into yours, and you found yourself swallowing heavily.

"Do I not love you enough?" Her voice was low, sincere. You knew it was part of the charade, but your heart rate had doubled in pace. Katya was close enough that you could feel her breath on your skin.

Before too long she had dissolved into laughter, cackling and flailing. You dissolved with her, relieved that the tension had broken. You took a long swig of your wine before setting it down again, turning back to her.

"How was the show tonight?"

She grimaced briefly. "Fairly low energy, actually. Tips were a bit abysmal this time."

You smiled sympathetically, patting her shoulder. "These things happen when people realise they're watching a deranged old man in a wig rather than a sexy Russian hooker."

She cackled again, standing and heading to the bathroom to de-drag. "You're a cunt, Barbara!"

"But would you have me any other way, darling?" you asked, adopting a trans-Atlantic accent. You stood to put your glass in the sink and the wine bottle away. Due to Brian's sobriety, you kept your alcohol in your room, out of sight, out of mind. You felt guilty having any in the home, but he insisted it was unfair to make you change for him. So, you came to this simple compromise. Besides, he was never much of a drinker.

He peeked out from the doorway to the bathroom, wig in hand and makeup all but gone. "No, actually, I wouldn't. Life would be so boring." He disappeared again to continue the process of turning back into himself, fast enough that he missed you smiling to yourself at his words. With your wine tucked safely into the mini fridge in your room, you moved to turn off the film, yawning.

"Don't you dare!" Brian scolded from behind you. Pulling a plain tank over his chest, he was entirely back in boy mode, makeup gone, slinky leotard replaced with pyjama shorts and the tank. You jumped again, which he grinned at.

Hand to chest, you glared at him. "You're not the only one with a heart murmur, Linda." He snatched the remote out of your hand, flopping down onto the couch and patting the space in front of him. Though you knew with your feelings it was a bad idea, the pair of you often had movie nights with cuddles. Entirely platonic, of course, but you felt guilty all the same. Resigning yourself to it, however, you curled into the L shaped extension of the lounge, head resting in his lap.

"Can we start it again?" he asked, to which you nodded. You loved the movie, almost as much as he loved Contact, so you didn't mind rewatching. "Oh, wait!" he muttered, standing up to flick off the light before rejoining you, pulling you further into his lap.

Whether it was the late hour, glass of wine or just his body heat, you slowly drifted to sleep. When he noticed, he smiled gently and pulled the blanket off the back of the couch to drape over you. Gently stroking your hair, but not wanting to disturb your sleep by getting up, he too fell asleep like that. The film eventually ended with neither of you awake to see it.