Chapter Text
The clinic is a strange mixture of sterile and comforting. Fern is at the check-in desk, name card set in front of their computer, pronouns (they/he) included. Across the front of the check-in desk is a banner of what seems to be all pride flags, several of which V has never seen before; they make a mental note to look up the unknowns later. The walls are printer-paper-white, eye-straining as freshly-fallen snow in the sun, but the office is charmingly inundated with house plants and the sheer vitality of it is just enough to take the edge off.
Fern smiles like they're old friends when V approaches, and the pre-appointment process is remarkably painless. They’ve already submitted their insurance and general information via patient portal with the login provided to them with their appointment confirmation. There are a few documents to sign, and a clinic pamphlet provided for them to keep, and the waiting room chairs are surprisingly ergonomic.
But the nerves border on unbearable. V’s tender scalp protests with every anxious twirl of their hair, and Jayce eventually reaches to soothe them, taking their hand in his and tracing designs on their palm. Their braced knees rest against one another as they wait, opposite knees bouncing in tandem.
When their name is finally called, the sound of it in yet another stranger's voice is like an electric shock, sending a wave of nervous euphoria through them. Despite the nerves, a grin pulls at their lips as they stand, Jayce steadfast by their side as they're led back.
*
The anxiety worsens the moment they settle into the examination room. After years of being in and out of medical offices, of specialist after specialist redirecting them elsewhere only for them to inevitably get nebulous answers like ‘maybe it's asthma?’ and ‘have you tried physical therapy?’, they finally have a PCP that listens and works with them, but the damage done by the noncommittal guesswork of countless prior doctors is remarkably difficult to shake.
(It was asthma, turns out, which is finally being appropriately managed. Disc degeneration and femoral anteversion as well, untreated for far too long but now managed with…relative success. At the very least, they're no longer being flagged as ‘drug seeking’ when they ask for medication adjustments.)
The point remains; V’s heart rate is always around twenty beats quicker once they're perched on the examination table, even with Jayce by their side. V occupies their time by reading the medical posters that are plastered across every available wall. There's a diagram showing several different top surgery incision options, a needle stick safety infographic, a ‘What are pronouns and why do they matter’ resource. There's one detailing the long term effects of smoking, and a smaller printout for a queer-friendly suicide hotline.
This tactic, somehow, does not soothe their raw nerves.
*
“Are you regularly active?” Doctor Williams asks, and V cringes inwardly.
This is always the worst part. Like being asked about flossing at the dentist’s office. Shame built into every visit.
They consider how so much of their life has fallen by the wayside over the winter. It's been weeks since their last hydrotherapy session, seasonal listlessness and anxious dysphoria both contributing to the dropoff. They consider briefly how much harder this will get, once their chest starts to develop. What will they wear to their sessions, then? Will they even want to swim anymore…?
–Catastrophizing right now will not get them anywhere.
Jayce squeezes their hand in reassurance, and they do their best to answer as candidly as possible. Being too ashamed for honesty won't resolve the issue, anyway.
“...Usually. The winter makes it hard. For both of us, really. Before, we were doing hydrotherapy sessions a few times a week.”
Proof of the winter’s toll aches in their joints, and they readjust to alleviate some of the pressure on their hip. The doctor’s keen gaze doesn't miss it, but she makes no mention of it, either. Her eyes flit back to the computer as she makes her notation.
“Gotcha. Happens to the best of us, right? At least spring is right around the corner.”
A common lifeline for them all to cling to, it seems. V hums in agreement, silently rejoicing that the season shift is, in fact, just around the corner.
They think of how lovely it will be to open all the windows for a crisp cross breeze, the air infused with vitality, cool and gentle as they sleep. They think of their favorite little creek that runs not far from home, of the wild blackberry bushes growing in thickets nearby, white blossoms preparing to bear fruit.
The image of a private picnic flashes through their mind, their legs bare beneath a floral sundress as they climb into Jayce's lap to be kissed. Daffodils and tulips surround them, the sun and his hands on their skin both so incredibly warm–
They shake the thought from their mind as the doctor continues her line of inquiry, barely able to tamp down on their embarrassment. If the doctor’s discerning eyes catch their blush, she has the grace not to mention it.
“So, V. Tell me a little about what your gender goals are. I can tell you what's achievable, and how we would go about pursuing your goals. I saw on your intake that you’re non-binary, but that can mean something a bit different for everyone.”
V steadies themselves. They've spoken with Jayce about these things, but it's always been…safe. At home, curled up away from the world, surrounded by all that comforts them the most. For every difficult conversation they've had, there's been a warm drink in hand, a cushy sweater to snuggle into, an adoring partner’s chest to hide their flushing face against.
Here the acrid scent of antiseptic cleaner stings in their sinuses. The fluorescent bulbs emit a high pitched buzz. They cross their ankles and the protective paper on their seat crinkles, uncomfortably loud in their ears. V’s knuckles ache, fingers ice-cold and curled up in tight, anxious fists. The skin of their throat prickles from an uneasy flush, their collar suddenly stifling.
Jayce lays a warm hand over one of theirs and squeezes lightly, silently reassuring.
V breathes, focusing on Jayce's grounding touch, and answers.
“Ehm yes–well I–breast tissue development, of course. But some eventual eh, ‘feminine’ fat redistribution might be nice as well. At this point in time I have no desire to have any surgical procedures for gender affirmation. I just…wish to be a bit softer, I suppose.”
Jayce squeezes their hand again, twice, the unspoken ‘I’m proud of you’ loud and clear. V opens their hand to lace their fingers together, glancing at Jayce with a small smile. The smile he returns illuminates the room, and the tightness in V’s chest alleviates, just a little.
Doctor Williams casts them a sidelong glance, lip twitching with a suppressed smile.
“Understood. Okay. Before I write out a script for you, we'll need to get a comprehensive panel done so we can establish a baseline. If everything is normal, I'll call in two milligrams daily of estradiol to your preferred pharmacy. We typically schedule follow-ups within around three months, at which point you'll have another panel done to check your levels and we'll assess where to go from there. Here–have a care guide. It'll give you more extensive details on what to expect timeline-wise, and possible side effects to look out for.”
V takes the pamphlet and flips through it, a cursory glance with unseeing eyes. They won't get their prescription today anyway, so they have time to look it over. (Not that they're completely in the dark to start with–some restless nights have resulted in curious jaunts on reddit, scouring through anecdotal evidence of certain side effects, preferred medication combos, tissue growth timelines, libido changes, etcetera. Sure, they hadn't known what clinics were options prior to following up with Jayce, but they weren't going to go into this with nothing.) They pass the pamphlet to Jayce, who gives it a similarly cursory look before tucking it into a back pocket.
V turns back to Doctor Williams and asks,“So, where will I need to complete my panel?”
“There's a lab that we frequently work with about a block up the road from here,” she says. “I can send a referral directly to them, unless you have a lab you'd prefer?”
V considers for a moment, but they've never had a lab experience be anything better than tolerable. So long as the doctor’s preferred lab isn't horrendous...
“No no, your lab will be fine. I have no phlebotomist friends that I'm aware of.”
“You never know with Vi, she could be moonlighting,” Jayce interjects with a sly grin. It pulls a chuckle from V and the doctor both.
“A fair point,” V concedes fondly, "But–for the sake of simplicity, we'll forgo asking her. What's the address, doctor?”
*
The lab, very luckily, is not horrendous. Just as sterile and uncomfortable as all the labs V has experienced prior, but the phlebotomist that they get has steady hands and a somewhat sunny disposition. His name is Jake, and his demeanour makes the whole experience moderately less miserable. Not a high bar, but one that's rarely cleared nonetheless. Jake even lets V pick out their preferred bandage before getting jabbed. They choose a blue one covered in little stars, and he commends the selection before making quick work of the whole ordeal. A real class act, all in all. Jayce has a protein bar ready to go when all the vials are collected, and a juice in the car to replenish the ridiculous amount of blood V sacrificed to the gender gods.
Their drive home is a bizarre mix of elation and fear. V thinks of all the ways they've felt betrayed by their body over the years, and the chance that it will happen again. The vials are off for testing, and now they just. Wait. And hope, desperately, that their levels allow them to move forward. The doctor didn't even bother to mention what would happen if anything looked out of place in their labs, and V hadn't thought to ask–
“Hey V? Talk to me, love. You've been– you're quiet. I thought the appointment and everything went pretty well, right?”
It had. Nothing went wrong. No one actively gaslit them! Or called them by their birth name, or pestered them about being an ex-smoker. Jake only had to stick them once to get all the vials for labs. Objectively, everything had gone as well as it possibly could.
But their throat is still tight, dread and tears clambering up to spill forth in a panic.
“What if they deny me? What if they look at my labs and decide I'm not a good candidate?”
Jayce looks stricken for a moment before fixing his face into a more neutral expression, and he reaches across the center console to put a reassuring hand on V’s knee.
“That won't happen. I know you're worried, but please try to trust me. What happens typically when labs come back abnormal?” He massages the taut musculature of V’s leg, gently coaxing them back toward rationality. V takes a few steadying breaths, focusing on the way the tension in their leg gradually loosens under Jayce's touch.
“...Guidance is given for how best to regulate whatever issues arise. Sometimes further testing is done to determine where the abnormalities originate.”
“Right. Even in situations of needing a donor organ, the next step is rarely if ever to remove someone from a recipient list. There's no reason they would just…deny you with no further follow up. And if they tried, we would find a different clinic. There are still other options.”
The steady determination in his voice is a boon. It's matter-of-fact, inarguable. If this, then this, on and on until their goals are reached. From Jayce's perspective, there is no world in which this is kept from V. Not so long as he's in it.
V is trying to feel the same, but…
“I–I think–I know this. Logically. But the logic doesn't seem to be…well, it doesn't feel like enough. And I–god, I don't know…”
Jayce waits silently for them to continue, eyes intent on the road but flicking to check V’s face intermittently. He squeezes their knee as gentle encouragement.
V thinks of how terrifying it will be, to return to the pool once their body has started changing. How intimidating it is to want to rebuild their wardrobe almost from scratch. How daunting it is to consider telling all their friends, telling Ximena, the closest thing they have to a mother on this earth. And what of their legal documents? What will it cost to update them? Will they be treated worse by their doctors?
Can someone even change their name to just a letter?
The panic is back with a vengeance, but laced with something even more dreadful:
Anticipatory grief.
V’s voice is terribly small when they ask, “What if I'm making the wrong choice, Jayce?”
A moment later, Jayce pulls into their driveway, takes off his seatbelt, and turns to face them. His eyes are intense, blazing with determination as he takes their face in his hands, thumbs caressing their cheeks.
“Do you think you are, V?” he asks, his brilliant eyes searching theirs.
A pleased shiver runs through them unbidden at the sound of their name in his mouth. They think of how light they feel when they're home, lips sweet with gloss, hair wavy and wild from loosened braids. They think of the twenty-odd tabs open on their phone of flowing skirts, dresses, summery little things left open to be coveted and abandoned and coveted again. Their ache to be softer, fuller, plush.
They think of the terrible pang of Wrongness they feel every miserable time a friend calls them Viktor.
“No,” they say, quiet but resolute. It feels like the truth.
Jayce grins and leans forward to kiss them, thoroughly. When they part, it's only at the mouth, their foreheads still pressed flush. They're both breathless and blushing, parallel pleased smiles tugging at their kiss-bitten lips.
“There you are,” Jayce murmurs, soft as silk, thumbs stroking their cheeks once more, “That's what I thought.”
*
The reassurance helps mitigate the spiraling, but the exhaustion left over from the events of the early afternoon requires a bit of rest and recovery. As soon as V crosses the threshold, they let out a sigh of relief, the weight of the day bearing down on them. They both shed their clothes to crawl into bed, eager to satiate their touch starvation and fatigue with a skin-to-skin cuddle session. V sets an alarm for five pm (just in case) and settles in where they feel safest, nestled against Jayce's furnace-hot chest.
*
The alarm was the right call, of course. It leaves enough time for them to take a much-needed bath with Jayce before readying themselves for dinner. Jayce washes their hair lovingly, and they return the favor in kind.
V tries not to fixate on how unenthusiastically they dress themselves, though: black slacks, white button up, deep red sweater vest. At one point in time, this outfit made them feel dashing and well put together. Now, they feel entirely disconnected from their reflection.
Strange, how context can change everything.
Still, they want to feel lovely somehow. Today will forever be the anniversary of their decision to start HRT. Every year when they are reminded of love, they will be reminded of themselves, too.
The restaurant where they've booked is only ten minutes from home. The lights are always low, and the waitstaff is incredibly polite…
They commit before they can change their mind, lining their waterline and coating their lashes with black. A balm without tint is all they can stomach for now, but it's just enough to make them feel a bit more at home within themselves.
Jayce lights up when V emerges from the bathroom, kisses them and says,
“You look so pretty, V. Can't wait to get you home.”
V flushes, face hot with embarrassment and desire.
“We are home, Jayce,” they say, heart fluttering, collar of their shirt stifling against their blushing throat.
“Ah yes, but I haven't properly wined and dined you yet, beautiful. It doesn't count.”
V scoffs a little, affection and dread warring within them at the prospect of said wining and dining.
“Whatever you say, my love.”
They turn to leave, but Jayce stops them hesitantly, a look of uncertainty in his eyes.
“Wait,” he says, “I have something for you.”
V glances down at their phone to check the time, their reservation quickly approaching, but as soon as they look back up Jayce has appeared by their side with a black gift bag in hand, the metallic gold tinsel paper overflowing the top and glinting in the amber lamplight of their bedroom.
“I was saving this for later but…maybe–I thought maybe you'd want the option, now?”
Jayce looks nervous, chewing on the inside of his cheek, brow furrowed, but beneath that there's a steadfast determination. Whatever this is, Jayce has considered it thoroughly. Whatever this is, it will surely become precious to them.
V tries not to get too self conscious about the puzzle box and sketchbook they got for him, not yet gift-wrapped and stowed inside their bulky work bag.
“Where were you even hiding that?” they ask incredulously, their voice laced with affection. Jayce grins, his canines sharp and lovely as ever, and nods towards their bed.
“Figured you wouldn't go looking under there unless things got really dire,” he says, eyes twinkling with mirth. “C'mon, V. Will you open it?”
V smiles, tucking their phone in their pocket and making their way to the bed, grabbing Jayce's hand to drag him along with them.
There's a card in a scarlet envelope, closed by a golden wax seal that's imprinted with a butterfly. They run their fingers over it reverently, suddenly extremely tactilely aware. The wax is cool and smooth, the paper of the envelope almost velvety to the touch. Their knee brace presses abrasively against their skin, but Jayce's quiet breaths ghost pleasantly over their over warm cheeks.
They smooth their fingers over the seal once more, then slip a finger behind it to pop open the envelope, leaning into Jayce's side as they read–
‘Wasn’t sure which you'd like best. I figured this was a good start. Love you forever, wherever, however. –J’
They can hear their heartbeat.
Jayce presses a kiss against their hair, and they reach beneath the tinsel paper to find–
Something…soft.
Something so soft.
When they pull their gift from the bag, their breath catches in their throat.
It's one of the dresses they've been obsessively daydreaming about. A navy blue infinity dress, with straps that could be arranged at least ten different ways. Tags still intact, just in case. The fabric is a bamboo blend, silky and stretchy, and V holds it to their face to sample how it will feel on their skin.
It's wonderful. Lovelier than they'd hoped.
They don't realize they're crying until Jayce pulls them into an embrace, the dress pinned between them as he shushes them and pets their hair adoringly.
“Oh baby, I didn't want to make you cry. I just–I thought maybe you'd want this, even if it's just for home–”
“God, Jayce, it's perfect. I have wanted this so badly I just–I just–thank you,” they hiccup, nuzzling into Jayce's throat to seek the warmth and comfort of him. They feel the rumble of his laugh against their chest, his lips against their hair.
“Of course, V. Anytime,” he murmurs. “Will you–do you want to try it on?”
V sniffles a little, reaches up to wipe at their eyes before tucking their face into his shoulder.
“...yes. But. Will you do me a favor?”
“Mm?”
“Please get my eyeliner and makeup remover. I would like to eh–give myself a fighting chance at my first impression?”
“On it!”
“And Jayce?”
“Yeah sweetheart?”
“Cancel our reservation, please. Let's order in. Our usual?”
“Oh thank god. This shirt is so uncomfortable.”
V can't help but laugh at that. The relief is palpable for both of them as they strip out of their clothes and designated roles to spend a night in as themselves.
*
*
*
Fuck.
The dress is…it's perfect. The feeling of it against their skin sends shivers up their spine, the slip of it a sensory delight. They arrange the straps in a way that criss-crosses below the base of their throat, loops over their shoulders, then wraps around their waist to cinch at the back. They touch up their makeup, rimming their eyes more sharply in black and gilding the inner corners. Jayce had the good sense to bring a tinted balm with the requested items, and V has put it to good use, lips blushed and glistening. Their hair almost touches their bare shoulders now, curling up at the ends.
The feeling of seeing themself is indescribably wonderful. It takes everything in them not to choke up again, but they manage–just barely.
Jayce returns from his own freshening up as V assesses themself, appearing in the corner of the full-length mirror. He's in his favorite black sleep pants, with something hidden in a hand. When V turns to face him, he smiles sheepishly and opens his fingers to reveal one of V’s celestial barrettes and something…new.
“It's uh. It's blue apatite. One of my favorites. I thought it would look nice with your dress. I just–well, I wanted to make sure you liked the dress first, I guess.”
It's a single stone carved in the shape of a geometric teardrop, hung on a silver chain. Understated, but beautiful.
“Put it on me? Please?”
“Of course.”
Jayce hands the barrette to V and moves behind them to slip the chain around them and fasten it. A jolt of elation runs through them as they realize their hair is long enough now that they have to pull it up from their nape for him to fasten the chain.
Jayce kisses their nape once, twice, thrice, before moving on to pepper their shoulder with kisses, too. He reaches around them as though to embrace them from behind, but moves to take the barrette from their hand instead, then turns them to face him.
His eyes are only a sliver of gold, pupils fat from the dark and desire, but he's terribly gentle as he twists the left side of V’s hair several times over to pin it back behind their ear in a sort of half crown.
“There,” he says, reverent. His eyes are alight with joy and something harder to place. “There you are.”
He moves out of their way so they can see themself again.
The euphoria seems to be…amplified, something about the added touches from their lover making them feel twice as powerful and impossibly beautiful. The devastating hunger in Jayce's eyes beside them in the mirror makes them feel high, giddy with desire and excitement and confidence.
They feel themself getting hard, and there's an inkling of shame for just a moment, but the silk-slip feeling of the dress against their skin is just so incredible. They see that Jayce is hard too, and when he notices their arousal, he groans, fists tightening at his sides in restraint.
They do not want his restraint.
“Do you not want to test out this gift, Jayce?” they ask, injecting as much coyness into their teasing as they can, turning to him and pressing close so their bodies are flush to one another. Jayce lets out a sigh of relief at the contact, grabbing V’s hips to press their lengths together. They both gasp, rutting desperately for a few moments before realizing that the day demands that they get off their feet for this.
Jayce is first to disengage, but pulls V carefully along with him, both of them shuffling to the bed gingerly with only their compression braces in place now. Their caution does nothing to temper their excitement though, and as soon as Jayce is in bed, V crawls into his lap, straddling his thighs and grinding against him. Jayce shudders and wraps his arms tight around their waist, kissing and nipping hungrily at the exposed skin of their collarbones and shoulders. They rock in tandem for some time, sighing and panting, until Jayce is pulled from his aroused stupor to ask,
“Can I–would you let me eat you out?”
A vicious shock of arousal shoots through V’s abdomen at the question, involuntary gasp slipping from their lips. They've done this many times before. It isn't anything new, but Jayce has never…asked in exactly those words. He grins, a sensual, predatory glint to it, his desire restrained but obvious. If V gave him the word, he'd be on them in a heartbeat, mouth intent on unraveling them completely.
Sex has been…trickier, since they became aware of their shifting sense of self. Not bad, but different. So many things that they enjoyed before, have felt uncomfortable or dysphoria-inducing when attempted, now. The last time Jayce had mindlessly asked to ‘suck their dick’, they'd flinched away as though they'd been slapped. Jayce had been terribly apologetic, and when V had calmed enough, they'd discussed at length what terms V might prefer.
Since then there has been some trial and error, but they've been re-learning together.
So to hear this particular phrase in action for the first time tonight, after the pure elation of having their appointment, their luxurious time in the tub, and now as they're wrapped in this gorgeous dress?
They couldn't possibly refuse.
“Fuck, yes. Please Jayce.”
*
God, what a fucking mouth. V has their dress hiked up to their waist, Jayce's hands gripping both thighs desperately as he laps at V’s hole relentlessly. V mindlessly grinds into his ministrations, fingers buried in his hair, achingly hard and dripping. It feels like Jayce has been at this for an eternity, tongue tirelessly wrenching little sobs of pleasure from his overwrought lover.
When Jayce breaks for air, it's only briefly, and he asks, “Can I try something, baby? I really think you'll like it.” His hot breath against V’s rim has all their nerve endings alight, and they squirm, needy and desperate for more contact.
They could ask what it is that Jayce has in mind. But…
Not knowing is thrilling.
“Whatever you want–god, just touch me Jay–”
V sees stars.
Jayce has gone right back to his meal, but one of the hands previously gripping a soft thigh has moved to massage the spot directly above V’s oversensitive hole. It sends a shock of pleasure through their body, ricochets deep in a way that has them sobbing, coming so hard that Jayce has pin their bucking hips back onto the bed. Jayce licks them through it, tongue worshipful and touch careful but firm, rubbing that spot until V is whining and squirming from the overstimulation.
It takes some time for both of them to regain their wits. Jayce opts to catch his breath between V’s thighs, his head pillowed on one as he runs his fingers over the other. His touch is soft, apologetic for the beard-burn he's left in his wake.V makes a mental note to tell him later how much they appreciate the reminder of his affection on their skin.
When Jayce finally crawls up to snuggle beside V, he drowsily takes stock of their state, pupils swelling at the sight. Their makeup must be wrecked, hair mussed and their dress? God. It seems they hadn't rucked it up far enough to escape their release–
Seeming to notice their despair, Jayce curls close, his hard cock pressing against their bare hip as he whispers,
“Machine washable, cold, gentle cycle. I double checked.”
V lets out a shocked bark of laughter.
“That might be the sexiest thing I have heard all day,” they snark, and Jayce chuckles into their sweat-tacky throat, hips rolling lazily, his exhaustion and arousal apparent.
V turns to kiss his crown, then pushes Jayce's sleep pants down his hips. They lick a wet stripe across their palm, reach to press it against Jayce's cock, pinning it between hip and palm. Jayce whimpers, wraps an arm around their waist to curl closer still and gain leverage, fucking into the soft, wet space they've created for him.
It takes so little to shove him over the edge, soft whispered praise and gratitude in his ear and a few more thrusts and it's over. His spend joins V’s, painting their abdomen and dress, and they both shudder at the sight.
As Jayce twitches and pants in the aftermath of his orgasm, he reaches for V, pulling them into a deep, tender kiss, the steady passion of it punctuated by his desperate breaths. V smiles into their kisses, boneless and blissed out, certain they both need to get out of these clothes now but far too content to do so just yet.
Jayce is the one to take initiative, pulling off his sleep pants and carefully wiping up their mess from V's stomach. The pants are tossed unceremoniously from bed.
“We'll need to do the bedding tomorrow anyway, yeah?” Jayce asks, stroking V’s arm.
“I suppose so, yes.”
“Do you want me to get you out of that, or do you want to keep it on?”
It is quite messy by this point. But…the fabric is still soft. And…
They still feel pretty. Thoroughly debauched and undone, hair wild and dress ruined.
“I think–I will keep it on. You will wash this for me tomorrow too, won't you?”
Jayce kisses them again, pulls the duvet over them both and peppers feathery kisses over their bare shoulder.
“Of course, V.”
They lay silently for a while, and it seems sleep is about to overtake them when Jayce lets out a delighted gasp and exclaims,
“Oh my god. It's V day, baby. It's V day! Fuck, that's so perfect!”
V is quiet for only a moment before breaking down into giggles, amused and enamored. Jayce just laughs along, and they fall asleep to the sensation of him murmuring ‘happy V day’ over and over into their skin.