Only One Queen Bee - American Horror Story Fic
Character: Chad, Patrick, and Constance
Genre: Slash
Author: thewatchmaker
Fandom: American Horror Story
Word count: 1430
Rating: R for bitchiness
Notes: A Labor Day Pot Luck gave Chad food poisoning.
I looked like shit. I was pale, and my normally sexy stubble had gone way beyond that. I looked like Grizzly Adams. I let out a heavy sigh as I climbed into the bathtub to take a shower. Three days of puking my guts out had been oh so much fun, and that was the last time I was ever hosting a fucking pot luck. Next time Patrick and I had a party, I’d cook all the food, or I’d get a caterer.
Not that we can afford a caterer, and my ER visit was going to eat up a nice chunk of change on top of everything else. I looked at my razor and for a few moments I thought about gouging it across my wrists - vertically not horizontally of course - but suicide is such a drama queen thing to do. Patrick and I were having problems, but I knew once we got out of this money trap that we’d be fine. I loved him. He loved me. We hated this house. That’s all it was.
We’d sell the house. We’d find someplace smaller with less creepy shadows, and then we’d adopt a baby. Life would be perfect, and Patrick might remember how his zipper works and somehow manage to keep his dick in his pants. Or I’d find a better use for my razor than my wrists.
As I leaned into the water to wash the shampoo from my hair and the remains of my whiskers down the drain, the plumbing made a weird sound. I closed my eyes, so I didn’t see the water turn brown with rust and prayed the plumbing would last until we were free. God knows I just love trying to get clean while being sprayed with toxic waste, but this time the water stayed clean until I shut it off. Wherever the noise came from, was somewhere else in the house probably the kitchen. I’d have to ask Moira if she heard it too. I don’t know what I’d do without Moira. She’s like this little bubble of sanity in my shitty life.
Once I was dressed, and a quick glance in the mirror told me that I looked fashionably adorable, I made my way downstairs for the first time since I came home from the ER. If it hadn’t been for Moira taking care of me while Patrick was at work, I’d have starved, not that I wanted to eat anything. I owed her a raise, and decided to tell Patrick to make sure that she got a huge bonus when we sold the house. She deserved it. Hell, she deserved it more than he did. He hadn’t exactly been waiting on me hand and foot like he should have been. For someone who makes a living taking care of the sick and injured, he had the shittiest bedside manner where I was concerned.
Thank god there was coffee in the kitchen when I got there, and it was still hot. I poured a cup and then I heard voices in the backyard. I caught Constance’s fake Southern Charms. I swear that bitch must have Gone With the Wind on perpetual loop at her house. She probably does it to keep her kid busy or something. I assumed she was chatting it up with Moira if you could call their exchanges chats. There was some bad blood between those two. Too bad there wasn’t enough to keep Constance out of my house.
She was talking to Patrick who wasn’t supposed to be home. What the fuck?
“I’m having some plumbing issues, Pat,” Constance was purring, and I nearly choked on my coffee. “Why don’t you come on over and check out my pipes?”
If it was remotely possible for me to throw up after puking everything I’d swallowed for the past six months over the past few days, I’d have lost it in the kitchen sink. Not only was it the most pathetic pick up line I’ve ever heard, the bitch knows he’s gay. I clutched my mug between my hands and walked out into the yard with a big smile on my face.
“Hey baby,” I said as I stepped over and gave Patrick a kiss on the corner of his mouth. He was covered in sweat, wearing a thin tank top, and if Constance hadn’t been there I might have offered to lick him clean, or hell, I might do it anyway to spray territory. But my knees weren’t up to it anymore than the rest of me. I felt like shit, and it didn’t need this crap from the fucking cougar next door.
“You’re up?” He nearly wrapped his arm around me, but I scooted away.
“I just showered. Why don’t you leave the yard work to the professionals?” I took the rake from his fingers, patted his ass and shoved him lightly toward the back door. “Go get cleaned up, and I’ll show you my appreciation for all you’ve done for me since I got sick.”
Constance was glaring at me from behind her Catwoman sunglasses. I might not be able to see her eyes, but I could see the crows feet tighten. She pursed her wrinkly old lips at Patrick, checking out his ass as he headed inside. “My, don’t you have him trained, and here I thought he was the one who wore the pants in your family.”
“We both wear the pants, Constance, and frequently they’re wrapped around our ankles while we suck each other off. I’ve been looking forward to this for months. The day you crossed the line, and I got to tell you exactly what I think of you. That is my husband. This is my house. You come over here, playing the fucking Queen Bee; well let me tell you something, you skanky old cougar. There is only room for one Queen in this house, and that would be me.”
“Now don’t get your shorts in a bunch, Chad.” She waved her hand at me like I was a gnat. “I’m not tryin’ to take your boy toy away, because if I was, he’d already be next door.”
“Oh please. I know Patrick’s type, Constance, and you aren’t it. I doubt you were it before you had to spend a few grand a year on Oil of Olay to keep the centuries at bay.” I took a step towards her, and I gave her a smile that had been known to reduce twinks to tears. “Now why don’t you straddle your broomstick, since I’m pretty sure it’s the only thing that’s been between your legs in this century, and go home. I’m sure that your kid needs you.”
“I have only ever tried to be a friend to you and yours, Chad,” she snarled as she tossed her still burning cigarette into one of my rose bushes. I had the urge to make her eat it. “Why I even spent all afternoon makin’ those cupcakes for your little party.”
“Yeah, and they’re probably why I spent the last three days wishing that I was dead. God knows what you put in them.” I grabbed her by the elbow and started walking her out of the yard. My anger was keeping me on my feet when my guts were quivering. But I’d be damned if I was going to puke in front of this bitch unless it was on her shoes. “Get out of my yard. Keep away from my husband and my house.”
“If you ever touch me again, I’ll have you fucking arrested, and what are you looking at?” Constance stumbled when her feet hit the sidewalk, and she turned to face me as she caught her balance. I glanced behind me to see Moira on the porch. She was smiling at me, and I could see the approval in her eyes.
“She’s watching me kick you to the curb, Constance.” I turned my back on the bitch and slammed the gate before walking back into the house with Moira at my back.
“You just made yourself an enemy,” Moira said. The second we were inside she handed me a glass of cold water and made me sit down.
“That bitch was my enemy the day we moved in.” I drank the water slowly and gave Moira’s hand a gentle squeeze. “You on the other hand are my angel. Thank you, sweetheart. I don’t know what I’d do around here without you.”
“You won’t have to worry about that,” she said as she went to fuss with cleaning something that was already clean. “I’ll always be here.”
Genre: Slash
Author: thewatchmaker
Fandom: American Horror Story
Word count: 1430
Rating: R for bitchiness
Notes: A Labor Day Pot Luck gave Chad food poisoning.
I looked like shit. I was pale, and my normally sexy stubble had gone way beyond that. I looked like Grizzly Adams. I let out a heavy sigh as I climbed into the bathtub to take a shower. Three days of puking my guts out had been oh so much fun, and that was the last time I was ever hosting a fucking pot luck. Next time Patrick and I had a party, I’d cook all the food, or I’d get a caterer.
Not that we can afford a caterer, and my ER visit was going to eat up a nice chunk of change on top of everything else. I looked at my razor and for a few moments I thought about gouging it across my wrists - vertically not horizontally of course - but suicide is such a drama queen thing to do. Patrick and I were having problems, but I knew once we got out of this money trap that we’d be fine. I loved him. He loved me. We hated this house. That’s all it was.
We’d sell the house. We’d find someplace smaller with less creepy shadows, and then we’d adopt a baby. Life would be perfect, and Patrick might remember how his zipper works and somehow manage to keep his dick in his pants. Or I’d find a better use for my razor than my wrists.
As I leaned into the water to wash the shampoo from my hair and the remains of my whiskers down the drain, the plumbing made a weird sound. I closed my eyes, so I didn’t see the water turn brown with rust and prayed the plumbing would last until we were free. God knows I just love trying to get clean while being sprayed with toxic waste, but this time the water stayed clean until I shut it off. Wherever the noise came from, was somewhere else in the house probably the kitchen. I’d have to ask Moira if she heard it too. I don’t know what I’d do without Moira. She’s like this little bubble of sanity in my shitty life.
Once I was dressed, and a quick glance in the mirror told me that I looked fashionably adorable, I made my way downstairs for the first time since I came home from the ER. If it hadn’t been for Moira taking care of me while Patrick was at work, I’d have starved, not that I wanted to eat anything. I owed her a raise, and decided to tell Patrick to make sure that she got a huge bonus when we sold the house. She deserved it. Hell, she deserved it more than he did. He hadn’t exactly been waiting on me hand and foot like he should have been. For someone who makes a living taking care of the sick and injured, he had the shittiest bedside manner where I was concerned.
Thank god there was coffee in the kitchen when I got there, and it was still hot. I poured a cup and then I heard voices in the backyard. I caught Constance’s fake Southern Charms. I swear that bitch must have Gone With the Wind on perpetual loop at her house. She probably does it to keep her kid busy or something. I assumed she was chatting it up with Moira if you could call their exchanges chats. There was some bad blood between those two. Too bad there wasn’t enough to keep Constance out of my house.
She was talking to Patrick who wasn’t supposed to be home. What the fuck?
“I’m having some plumbing issues, Pat,” Constance was purring, and I nearly choked on my coffee. “Why don’t you come on over and check out my pipes?”
If it was remotely possible for me to throw up after puking everything I’d swallowed for the past six months over the past few days, I’d have lost it in the kitchen sink. Not only was it the most pathetic pick up line I’ve ever heard, the bitch knows he’s gay. I clutched my mug between my hands and walked out into the yard with a big smile on my face.
“Hey baby,” I said as I stepped over and gave Patrick a kiss on the corner of his mouth. He was covered in sweat, wearing a thin tank top, and if Constance hadn’t been there I might have offered to lick him clean, or hell, I might do it anyway to spray territory. But my knees weren’t up to it anymore than the rest of me. I felt like shit, and it didn’t need this crap from the fucking cougar next door.
“You’re up?” He nearly wrapped his arm around me, but I scooted away.
“I just showered. Why don’t you leave the yard work to the professionals?” I took the rake from his fingers, patted his ass and shoved him lightly toward the back door. “Go get cleaned up, and I’ll show you my appreciation for all you’ve done for me since I got sick.”
Constance was glaring at me from behind her Catwoman sunglasses. I might not be able to see her eyes, but I could see the crows feet tighten. She pursed her wrinkly old lips at Patrick, checking out his ass as he headed inside. “My, don’t you have him trained, and here I thought he was the one who wore the pants in your family.”
“We both wear the pants, Constance, and frequently they’re wrapped around our ankles while we suck each other off. I’ve been looking forward to this for months. The day you crossed the line, and I got to tell you exactly what I think of you. That is my husband. This is my house. You come over here, playing the fucking Queen Bee; well let me tell you something, you skanky old cougar. There is only room for one Queen in this house, and that would be me.”
“Now don’t get your shorts in a bunch, Chad.” She waved her hand at me like I was a gnat. “I’m not tryin’ to take your boy toy away, because if I was, he’d already be next door.”
“Oh please. I know Patrick’s type, Constance, and you aren’t it. I doubt you were it before you had to spend a few grand a year on Oil of Olay to keep the centuries at bay.” I took a step towards her, and I gave her a smile that had been known to reduce twinks to tears. “Now why don’t you straddle your broomstick, since I’m pretty sure it’s the only thing that’s been between your legs in this century, and go home. I’m sure that your kid needs you.”
“I have only ever tried to be a friend to you and yours, Chad,” she snarled as she tossed her still burning cigarette into one of my rose bushes. I had the urge to make her eat it. “Why I even spent all afternoon makin’ those cupcakes for your little party.”
“Yeah, and they’re probably why I spent the last three days wishing that I was dead. God knows what you put in them.” I grabbed her by the elbow and started walking her out of the yard. My anger was keeping me on my feet when my guts were quivering. But I’d be damned if I was going to puke in front of this bitch unless it was on her shoes. “Get out of my yard. Keep away from my husband and my house.”
“If you ever touch me again, I’ll have you fucking arrested, and what are you looking at?” Constance stumbled when her feet hit the sidewalk, and she turned to face me as she caught her balance. I glanced behind me to see Moira on the porch. She was smiling at me, and I could see the approval in her eyes.
“She’s watching me kick you to the curb, Constance.” I turned my back on the bitch and slammed the gate before walking back into the house with Moira at my back.
“You just made yourself an enemy,” Moira said. The second we were inside she handed me a glass of cold water and made me sit down.
“That bitch was my enemy the day we moved in.” I drank the water slowly and gave Moira’s hand a gentle squeeze. “You on the other hand are my angel. Thank you, sweetheart. I don’t know what I’d do around here without you.”
“You won’t have to worry about that,” she said as she went to fuss with cleaning something that was already clean. “I’ll always be here.”