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Bianca looked up from her vanity for the upmost since starting her makeup and sighed.


“Queen, can you quit the fucking sniffling so I can think?”


Her only answer was a sharp sneeze. 

“Adore, seriously, look at me,” Bianca said quietly. “Are you feeling well enough to go on tonight?” 


The younger queen uncurled herself delicately from her seat, revealing red rimmed, glassy eyes. She looked worse than she had an hour ago, if that was even possible. The poor thing had clearly been been under the weather the past few days, complaining of a sore throat and head congestion. But Bianca had chalked it up to a lack of sleep and figured a day of extra rest would set the younger queen right. 


Apparently she was wrong. 


“Mmm...yeah. Just kinda tired, I’ll be fine” Adore mumbled, her voice raspy. 


“You take any medicine or anything?” 


“That shit makes me too drowsy...:” 


Bianca sighed, reaching out a hand to Adore’s forehead and frowning. “Did you at least see what your temperature was? Before totally just deciding against taking something?” 


The guilty refusal of eye contact was answer enough. 


The older queen made a show of rummaging through her bags until she fished out a bottle of cough syrup, wordlessly sliding it over to Adore and her growing pile of used tissues. 


“Since when do you keep Sudafed in your makeup stuff?”


“Since you started sounding like Typhoid Mary, you stubborn bitch.” There was no heat behind Bianca’s words, but then again there rarely was with Adore. Especially when she looked so damn pathetic and miserable. 


“Just...take it easy tonight, okay? Nobody will notice if you pull back a bit.” 


Adore rolled her eyes, “B, for real, it’s fine. I’ll feel better after I take some of this and get on stage. Besides, it’s not like one of the runner ups can just...not show up a night of tour.” 


Before Bianca could respond, Adore was up and wandering off--flannel shirt tightly wrapped around her trembling shoulders. 





Tonight’s show had been electric . All of the queens managed to keep their shit together (no easy feat for some of the earliest eliminated…) and the crowd was perhaps one of the best they had gotten so far. 


It was almost surreal enough for Bianca to forget about how ill Adore looked before going onstage tonight. 




As she pushed past some of the other queens and the backstage crew, Bianca felt a clammy hand reach out and pull her back to reality. 


“B? I don’t feel so good.” The younger queen’s voice was so shaky, Bianca found herself putting a comforting hand on her back and the other on her cheek. 


“You’re burning up, love.” 


Adore whimpered in response. 


“Well, this is what happens when we go onstage with a fever, pussyface…” she trailed off as the younger doubled into deep, chesty coughs. 


“How am I supposed to go on tomorrow? Michelle is gonna--” 


“The only place you’re going is back to the hotel and then probably to a doctor, Adore.” 


The younger queen’s fever bright eyes widened, “We don’t have time for me to see a fucking doctor, are you serious? And it’s not like we can cancel tomorrow night, the tickets have already been sold, and I overheard some producers talking about--” 


“Hey, hey, breathe,” Bianca said with a frown. Adore was many things, but panicked and concerned with authority were certainly not usual occurrences. 


She pulled Adore closer, making note of the increased shivers. “What is up with you tonight, hmm? Nobody is going to be angry with you for getting sick.” 


“It’s too much pressure, I-I can’t let anyone down now, B. And I’m sorry that I’m ruining the tour, because it’s really your tour after all--”


Bianca shook her head, “You’re way too fucking wired right now and you need to rest. We’re going back to the hotel.” 


 “But… the meet and greet?” 


The older queen sighed, “Hotel…now.”


Adore’s eyes met Bianca’s with clouded confusion before nodding wearily and allowing herself to be guided off the set. 





“How are you feeling?”


Adore shrugged listlessly in response, curled up tightly in Bianca’s hotel bed. “I’ll be fine tomorrow–”


“Queen, you absolutely will not be ‘fine tomorrow,’ not with that fever.”


Adore looked up suddenly, eyes brimming with tears. “Bianca, I-I really think I’m fucking this all up.” 


The older queen frowned (it seemed like that’s all she had been doing as of late), and sat on the edge of the bed, carding a hand through Adore’s hair.


“...imposter syndrome is a real bitch, huh?” 


Adore sniffled harshly. “That’s fucking easy for you to say, B. I’ve never seen you crack under all this pressure, even now, even with all these people and the crazy fucking schedule.” 


Bianca laughed softly, “I’ve been doing this way longer, bitch. I’ve got plenty of ways to compartmentalize that shit so I can go on with my day….you’re getting famous for drag at twenty three, when I was your age I didn’t even know how to glue on a wig.”


Adore wiped her eyes before falling into another coughing fit. “Ugh…I feel like shit.” 


“You’re seeing a doctor tomorrow morning, just so you know.” 


Bianca could almost see her consider arguing, but thankfully the younger queen simply sighed and nodded before burrowing her head into Bianca’s side. “Thanks for taking care of me, B…I love you.”


“Love you too, bitch. Feel better.”