Hello!
Welcome to my first story ever posted here.
I've been a fanfic writer for about 15 years. I've dedicated a decade and a half to another fandom and, literally, out of the blue, this Trixya story started to write itself in my head. I just had to let it out.
Please, help me out by commenting, reviewing, or whatever it is done on this app that my grandma brain is still trying to figure out. I could use all the help I can get.
Enjoy!
Chapter 1
"Hey, Brian," I say in a whisper, my voice almost unrecognizable to my own ears.
As expected, he doesn't even look at me. I only get to stare at the side of his bald head as he looks down. His fingers rapidly tap on the screen of his phone, texting away at an unbelievable speed.
I try it one more time, his name leaves my lips as my hand slightly touches his knee. What comes next is completely unintended. My mouth makes that little buzzing sound that's usually added in the post-production stage of the show. Out of fun, and with a slight smile forming on my lips, I do it again. My finger pokes his thigh accompanied by the buzzing effect, over and over.
Exasperated, he finally lifts his head and looks at me. His hands still holding the phone right in front of him. "What?!"
"Do you think we are getting kidnapped?"
He stares at me for a second, the amused look on my face probably throwing him off.
"You are such an idiot," he finally replies and returns his attention to the device.
This time is the palm of my hand the one that lands fully flat on his thigh. "No, I'm serious. Think about it. It's totally plausible." I try to keep my voice still low as my eyes shift from his face to the driver in the front seat.
His attention is finally on me. The remainings of makeup outline his lips, in the perfect oversized shape he always draws them in. Traces of glitter shine against his cheeks, and dark circles surround his eyes. To some it may not be a very attractive sight, but all I see is beauty. Beauty, and hard work, and dedication.
"What are you even saying?" Disbelief is clear on his features as he ultimately puts the phone down, even if it's just for a second. "Are you really that bored right now?"
I shrug and look out the window, staring at the seemingly moving buildings right besides us. "You know how my mind works." Excitement fills me as I bounce in my seat to look at him again. "And you know how much I love a possibly horrible outcome."
We have played this game before, and he's always in to carry on with my twisted fantasies. Something feels odd this time, though. I can feel he's not really here. His body may be riding this Uber with me, but his mind is somewhere else.
"Come on, indulge me," I practically beg, knowing fully well that he's not going to talk about what's bothering him until he's ready. And, to be honest, I am rather bored. "What would you do if I got kidnapped?"
"Cry," he says in a heartbeat, doesn't even think about it. After a second he adds a small 'probably' to try and make it less obvious.
My laugh sounds a lot louder than I intended but, yet again, it never really asks for my permission to come out. "No, you wouldn't." I push him playfully, trying to discredit his confession, just like he did a moment ago.
He rolls his eyes. "What would you expect me to do? Run the entire investigation as if I were the FBI?"
"At the very least!" My tongue is quicker than my brain and my answer comes without a thought.
So many years sitting next to this beautiful character have synchronized our minds, we are programmed to have a comeback ready for every line that comes out of the other's mouth. It's both a blessing and a curse. Luckily, this time, it worked like a charm, because I hear his high pitch laughter not even a second later.
"Can you picture that?" He asks in disbelief, his mood noticeably lighter. "Me, an FBI director."
"You would look amazing with a badge, though." My index finger points his way as the thought sinks in.
"Oh, honey, and you should see me in handcuffs!"
My hands flail everywhere as fits of uncontrollable laughter take over me, the moves appearing a lot more exaggerated inside the small car. My feet hit the floor rapidly and I can see the driver staring at us through the rearview mirror. I don't care. The dark cloud has been removed from above Brian's head and, honestly, that's all I have been aiming for these last twenty minutes.
He laughs and screams and I can see the wheels inside his head turning as he takes the idea even further.
"Don't worry, citizens, FBI Barbie is on the case." His hands land on his hips as he talks to imaginary cameras.
"You'll be... you could be solving fashion crimes!" I manage to get out between laughs and giggles.
"You are under arrest for wearing..."
His hands go up to form a fake gun and he points it at the air between us. Then he says something about lace fronts, I think I hear something about dirty stockings too but, honestly, the lines he's coming up with for this script are not what matters now. It's the whole act. And what's even funnier is that it is Brian the one doing this whole bit, not Trixie. There is no big wig to support his skit, no makeup to hide behind of, no dress he can hold as he interprets this plastique female cop. It's just a bald man, with an extremely loud voice, dressed in a quilt like shirt, joking around in the back of this modern version of a cab.
Once again, I let the reality of our relationship hit me like a ton of bricks. I love this person. I love him and I love her. All of what this human represents, I love. There's nothing I don't like. And, as many times before, I say it aloud. Just like I've confessed to him time and time again, the words simply express themselves in the most sincere way.
"God, I love you."
As if on cue, the car stops, his laughter stops, my heart stops.
He looks at me with a searching stare, a million questions dancing in those deep brown eyes of his.
The phone vibrates on the couch, he reads the words on the lockscreen before looking out the window. The outline of his house is recognizable in the darkness. The front light goes on and he throws the phone back to the seat.
"Do you mind if I crash at your place for a while?"
Drowning in confusion, I shake my head no. Without hesitation he tells the driver there has been a change of plans and gives him my address as the new destination.
"Thanks," he says as he tries to get a hold of my knee.
"Don't touch me."
The car starts moving again and I still have no fucking clue of what the hell just happened.
