Brightside | ✓

25 | what is this feeling?

Maverick was late to the red eye.

In a truly shocking turn of events that nobody could've predicted. But the motherfucker was never late to check in online, so the plane was waiting for him. He came sprinting in about fifteen minutes after the plane was meant to take off and Eddie didn't even have it in her to be that mad at him because he'd sprung for first class for their seats.

Eddie slept for most of the flight—only interrupted when Maverick woke her for snacks. A nap felt like exactly what she needed; it was even extended because of weather concerns. She would've placed money on a nap being medicine for her fatigue. Until they landed and she felt even more tired than she had when they started their flight.

Maverick paid for the cab from the airport to their hotel. (Eddie tried not to think about the headlines when paparazzi figured out she was sharing a room with Maverick.) (That was a shitshow waiting to happen.) He showered while Eddie threw her poorly packed carry on into the room and contemplated for—and she counted—three runtimes of Purple Rain whether she'd thrown enough underwear in the bag for the trip.

After her shower, one that she didn't know she needed that badly until after she'd done it, they headed to the location of the drag show. Maverick also insisted on paying for that cab—he knew Eddie didn't have it in her to argue and she hated that he was right. He'd already put his credit card down for the hotel room before they'd gotten there. All expenses paid because Kingston Maverick was contractually obligated to be somewhere other than his bed.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Eddie asked him as they turned toward the bar. "I don't think they'd blame you if you didn't want to—"

"If I cancel an appearance, especially at something like this." Maverick sighed. He looked tired. No thirty minute shower could fix that. It looked like he hadn't slept in weeks and his curls were on some side of everywhere. The shirt he'd tossed on was stained and Eddie didn't want to ask which end of which of his nieces it came out of. Eddie was pretty sure he was wearing pants that weren't his because they didn't fit him properly anywhere. And then there was the moustache. Enough said. "I can't do that."

Eddie nodded. "I get that. Whatever you need, I got you."

"Thank you for coming," Maverick said. "I know it was short notice."

"Whatever you need," Eddie repeated. "Even a red eye."

"Right back at you, Eds," Maverick said as he pushed the door open. He looked around for a moment. "I cannot believe we're the first ones here."

Eddie didn't really have it in her to say that there was no way in hell he was correct on that assessment, so she let him sit with it. Maverick shook hands with a couple people, hugged a couple others, introduced Eddie to a couple queens—Slaynia Twain and Olive Dixon were her favourites—and they were told to find a table while setup was still happening.

Moxie and Cruella walked in before they decided on one. Maverick gave them a wave.

"How do I say this nicely..." Cruella started. She looked like she regretted the sentence that hadn't even left her mouth yet.

"Maverick looks like shit," Moxie said. There weren't many people in the world who would argue.

"So nice to see you, Moxie," Maverick said. "Even if you're late."

"We were here three hours ago," Moxie said, "but they had to push your call time back because you were so late."

"Our flight got delayed," Eddie said. Maverick shot her and look and Eddie shot one right back at him. "Didn't hear a reason why."