Rewq

CW again for manipulative behaviour, but as you may have noticed, that behaviour is silly and well intentioned!

“Yes, Okay, I’ve been grumpy, I know and I’m sorry.” Naomi seemed unconvinced, as did I for that matter. Four days and I still hadn’t calmed down. Four days since that useless blonde dolt had ruined an opportunity I had waited weeks for. Ugh, and I’m sure she’d look at it as a learning experience, that she’d do better next time, or that the important part was that no civilians had been hurt. As if meeting just that minimal baseline of accomplishment was enough to somehow effect real change. I’d lodge a complaint with the league, but their aversion to supers going rogue had prompted them long ago to be very hands off regarding disciplinary action, or any action for that matter.

What that meant though was that it would fall to me. I could hope she skipped out on any future stakeouts too, not just last night’s; I could hope she actually did learn something from messing up so badly, either that she wasn’t needed or to at least listen to me, or I would be forced to have words with her and brute force one of those lessons into her thick skull.

Naomi, in reply, gave me a stern look that said all she needed to. “Yeah yeah, I know, just stay calm till she’s back, don’t let my frustration get to me, yada yada yada, thought-through decisions are good decisions, impulsiveness was how I’d end up making stupid mistakes.” Stupid mistakes like those of a particular useless blonde who – who I wasn’t going to dwell on the ineptitude of. Besides, being grumpy really had seeped into my day to day; my friends -- well, my friend and my cat -- had definitely noticed something and had been distant and ignoring me. Which was probably fair enough; I wasn’t exactly worth the effort, but it’d have been nice if he’d at least asked me if I was doing okay. Or smiled at me; that also wouldn’t go unappreciated. Naomi I suppose could get a pass, being a cat and all.

Another judgemental cat glare had me reexamining some of those conclusions, though; maybe Joe was busy? Maybe this crush was making me read too much into things. Maybe I was just pouting because I only had a friend in my least comfy body and because even that friend could never know me beyond the cover I showed him. Ugh, no. Friendship was overrated, a professional liability that I could not afford. What I really needed was another cat! After all, hanging out with Joe was a means to sex and alleviating a dumb crush, obviously, and if I made him smile some more, that was just an added bonus. To that end, could I prod him back towards Sandra? But just be a bit less forward about it this time. And, thinking about it, maybe I could reach out to him, rather than moping around waiting for him to suggest we hang out.

Three texts and an afternoon later, I knocked on Joe’s door, finding him in leggings and a hoodie, which immediately made me regret the already itchy jeans and flannel shirt I’d put on this body. I’d literally made the comfortable, sensible choice on all three of the bodies I’d left at home today but not on the one that had to have my attention. Still I could appreciate the cosy aesthetic on him, even if he looked more nervous than people wearing the clothing equivalent of a soft blanket should.

“Hey, uh, how goes?” he asked, uncharacteristically quietly.

Okay, he’s just a normal friend that happens to be adorable, just open up a bit, it should be easy. “Been okay, just a bit frustrated recently, and I could do with a distraction.” Please do not notice that you’re the distraction.

Still quietly, breathily even, he responded, “This about those roommates of yours you don’t want me to meet?”

“Sort of? About one of their coworkers, who, let me tell you, is the absolute worst.”

At that, he paused and gave an unfairly cute, inquisitive expression. “I mean, I am very curious and absolutely will let you tell me.”

I let him in on my frustration over the matter. “I wish. Sadly, I can’t really go into any detail on it, it’s not something that’s mine to share, sorry.” Having superhero friends to vent to would make this so much easier, if only I’d met a single super who wasn’t either terminally unavailable or just the worst. Eh, they probably wouldn’t be as attractive anyway. Staring at his eyes, definitely not his lips, I asked “How’re things with you?”

Immediately his expression turned even more nervous. “I–I’ve been um, there’s been, y’know, stuff?”

“Wanna try that one again? Gonna need a few more specifics, like, at least one.” Blushing like that was just unfair.

“Right, right, okay, here goes. I just, I’m – well, I’m a girl, like trans, a trans woman.” My mouth opened very wide, my brain shorted. “It’s derailing my whole everything and I don’t know what I’m gonna do with anything, especially if that means we can’t be friends or if it complicates things or – I’m rambling like an arse; please say something?”

A woman.

Trans.

Oh.

Oh!

He, no, she was trans! That could be why she’d been distant and it definitely explained some other weirdness too, like how cute I thought she was! Cause I swear guys I liked were usually handsome, and uh, the one-night stand? Did it explain that? I didn’t exactly know much about trans people. But it definitely covered the weird questions she’d asked me; her being a girl made a fair bit more sense than her having figured out my secret identity. That just raised one question, though; how was it that she qualified as a woman? Not that she didn’t; her womanness, in retrospect, was obvious. Just... what was I missing? How was it that when she smiled, there was just some intrinsic girlness to it that I could never replicate even in the most femme body I could concoct? I’d have agonised for hours over it, but responses, not just awkward gaping were required.

“I’m really happy for you, genuinely. You uh, got a name?” There, simple, supportive, not a baffling torrent of my own confusion.

“Ugh... Annie, and thanks, but happy for me? Why?! This shit sucks. Do you think I have the first god damn clue what I’m doing? Should I just piss off and find a dress? Slather myself in makeup and look like a gremlin? Like I have a single clue how to do any of that! Sure, I get to be a girl, but I’m stuck being the worst girl around, so what even is the point? I can’t go back to not knowing, though; the cat’s out the bag, so fuck me, I guess.” Oh. That sounded pretty miserable, when she put it like that. Meanwhile I, a non-trans person, basically had the ability to circumvent all of those issues and no need to.

“Look, I’m not exactly informed on the matter, but hormones and stuff exist, right? And if I’m honest, you’re already really pretty, so it can’t be too far to go?”

“Thanks, but mainly bullshit; you do not think I’m pretty, I know what I look like.” Did she? She had nice cheekbones, and eyelashes and lips and frankly, she was just obviously pretty. It felt like a weird time to out myself as queer; I’d never even thought to in this body, but she sounded like she needed a confidence boost and my brain was running at about 14% capacity so I didn’t know what else to try..

“Genuinely. I’m pan, okay, and some people I find handsome, some people pretty, you’re definitely more of the latter, which I’ll admit I felt a little confused about right up until about two minutes ago.”

“I, um, oh. Thanks, I think? A bit of a kick in the teeth to hear that I wasn’t even the second person to notice some signs. Wait, fuck, I’m not even third. Sandra, from the one-night stand I fucked up, definitely figured it out too.” Nope. “I had a liiitle bit of a gender panic attack when she got back to mine… but then, why did she leave her number?”

Seeing an opportunity to boost her confidence further, and maybe sort out my crush for good I added, “You could, y’know, ask her?”

“Right. Text the stranger, say ‘Oh, by the way, I’m a girl, still interested?’ Are you kidding, that’s insane. Absolutely not.”

“Hey, I’m just saying, if she apparently worked it out, then gave you her number anyway, that’s not exactly a no. People do date trans people, even ones not yet on hormones.”

“I guess that it can’t exactly go worse than last time, and I really need help with girl stuff; maybe I could ask her?” 

“You’ve got this.” Wait, oh dear, how was I supposed to help with ‘girl stuff.’ What even was that? I had no idea how to help with any of that! Apart from clothes, I guess… and I’d fiddled enough with makeup to know what did what, just not how to actually apply it. And, if I’m honest, I’d practised presenting femininely enough to be successful in my undercover work, so maybe that applied too? Hmm.

“Fine, I’ll text her, and uh, thanks for encouraging me, you're a good friend. At this rate I might actually sort my life out, and who knows what I’ll do then!” A better person would have felt guilty manipulating her like this, but if someone makes you giggle, uh chuckle, as much as she made me, then you can’t really help it if your crush gets worse. And with a crush as bad as mine, I was willing to do quite a lot to have her call me back.

—

A few days later, two days, in fact, after I’d given up hope but felt too embarrassed to suggest it again, she texted me, or uh, texted Sandra.

Hiya, we had a one night stand a few weeks back, nearly. Firstly I wanted to apologise both for ruining that night and for taking so long to get back to you. I was wondering if we could, maybe, meet up so I can explain myself? But I’d completely understand if not

Shortly after, presumably to her disbelief, I’d agreed to meet for coffee and was busily doing my best not to overthink this. I’d only spent a few hours agonising over if I should modify the body I’d labelled as Sandra to make her more comfortable. Was I now a little more muscly? Maybe Sandra had been going to the gym. Was I two inches taller? Who could tell, perhaps Annie just felt smaller now. And I definitely hadn’t spent half the time in the interim coming up with cute things to say to her, cause that would be weird, I presume. Besides, if I seemed overprepared, that might give away that I was prepared at all. And while she might suspect that Sandra had suspicions, it would still be suspicious if – I cut myself off. By the third layer of suspecting things, any suspicion was almost certainly nonsense. Clearly I was overthinking this; just be supportive and a bit flirty, simple.

When I arrived, five minutes early, I spotted her tucked into a corner, looking very cosy in leggings and an oversized jumper. Her hair, slightly longer than I’d thought, instead of seeming shaggy, fell nicely into something my brain was more than happy to code as feminine. Her face was clean, with cheekbones that spoke of something regal, and a nervous smile that spoke of handholding and a cuddle. There really was no putting away the ‘She’s a cute girl’ realisation now that it had percolated to the top of my thoughts.

Doing my best impression of someone who didn’t have a crush on her and who didn’t know she was a cute girl, I waved and gave the classic gender neutral hello of “Hi there, cutie!” Which, okay, maybe not especially gender neutral, but very worth it for her to blush like that.

“Wh-- Um, hi!” she stammered adorably, blushing even more when I sat down in the booth next to her, rather than on the chair opposite like she’d clearly expected.

“It’s been a while, how’ve you been?” That was the best invitation to talk about herself that I had.

“I uh, should probably get this bit out of the way.” Oh, thank god. “I’m really sorry about last time and uh, not messaging you sooner.” I facepalmed a little, inside, how hard could coming out be? “Aaand I might also be a girl. Called Annie.” There we go, easy! Why did she still look so nervous?

“Aww, good for you, it suits you, being a girl.” Her blushing predictably intensified, but I wasn’t nearly done.

“It--it does?”

“Absolutely! Your eyes and your lashes, your lips...” I paused there intentionally. “Yup, and your cute smile and your cheekbones, damn, makes me want to–” I cut myself off, wary of having been too forward last time.

“Makes you want to what?” she asked, eyebrow cocked.

“Well, uh, makes me want to be very good friends?” I finished off teasingly, with my sultriest lilt on the very.

“Oh, friends, right,” she replied, looking crestfallen in the way that only a person who’d totally missed what I meant would.

“No, you adorable idiot, I’m teasing you. If you really must know, I was going to say ‘makes me want to bite and kiss you’ but I didn’t want to be too forward.” That got the desired response, mouth wide, confused excited squeak and blinking thirty-eight times just to confirm I was really there saying all this.

“So--so… you’re still interested? Even though I’m trans?”

“Darling,” I purred, probably laying it on a bit thick, not that she seemed to mind. “Men are fine and all, but women, mmmmh, women are my favourite. Knowing you're a girl has me substantially more interested, don’t you worry.”

After two false starts leading into verbal keysmashes, she managed to wrangle her tongue into compliance and ask, “And you’d be okay that I want to take things a fair bit slower… than uh, last time? This is all still new to me and I need to work it all out.”

Surely she knew that being so cute would warrant more flirting. “Why, that almost sounds like you’re inviting me on several dates, which I will say sounds like a wonderful idea, though I’m slightly sad that you beat me to asking. Now I’m pretty sure this date was supposed to involve coffee; what would you like?”

“Wait, this is a date too?!” That masterclass of lesbian uselessness warranted a full facepalm, although I made sure she saw me smile after. This was going to be a lot of fun.

Rewq

Woohooo! Recommendation time! This time for Odd Inheritance by the delightful BrieBo, it's a delightful read and, candidly, this is the best tool I have to bully my friend in writing more, so go leave some comments!