Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

2019 October 15, Tuesday

Stef

Finishing his oatmeal and grabbing his phone, Stef enters his passcode and taps the latest notification; hopefully it's good news.

Donna 
Good news!
I heard back from my mentor's friend
They need more translators ASAP
NOT just on contract
They want to offer you a staff position
Fully remote
Set your own hours
What's your email so I can pass it on and they can send the packet

Well, that is good news, better than he expected; hopefully the offer is as good as Donna is making it sound, but anything would be better than staying at Tesco through the rest of his time at Saints, as long as it pays enough to cover expenses.

Me 
[email protected]
Thank you so much
I need to talk to Jodie again soon
I'll text her soon
But
Did she tell you what we talked about

Donna 
She wouldn't say exactly
Said it was private

Me 
Well
I thought you deserve to know
I'm trans too
Idk when I can do anything about it but
Yeah

Stef immediately turns his phone face down, afraid to face whatever her answer will be. It only takes a few seconds to realise that's foolish though; she's close friends with Jodie, like a big sister almost, even if she's probably cis herself. He picks the phone back up, ready to face the probably-fine consequences of coming out to a second person in as many days.

Donna 
🎉🎊🥳🥂🎑✨🤸🏼‍♀️🎇🤗🫂🫂🫂
I'M SO HAPPY FOR YOU!!!!
Thank you for trusting me with this
Also
That makes three of us
Because me too
🫂🫂🫂
Do you have another name
What about pronouns

Donna's response is overwhelming, and Stef can feel his cheeks flush. He doesn't know what he expected, but this immediate acceptance and celebration is almost too much.

Me 
Stef is fine for now
Gender neutral
Plus Melissa gave it to me
Want to hold on to that
Pronouns though
I want to say she/her but
I don't deserve them looking like this
Don't want to taint them with that

Donna 
Bullshit
You don't have to look any kind of way to deserve your gender
It's just your gender
Get over yourself girl

The embarrassment at her effusiveness is shading into shame now; who is he, no, who is she to tell a trans woman so much further along than Stef that someone's looks determine how they are allowed to present themselves? Surely Donna went through a time when she didn't pass either, early on. To reject her pronouns, this gift of being seen as she wants, is offensive.

Me 
Sorry
You're right
Silly of me
She her then

Donna
🎉💃🏼💃🏼💃🏼🎉
Glad you came to your senses lol
I have a feeling we're going to be good friends

Stef can't believe her luck; new friends, a new job, a new life. Going to that party was the best decision ever.

Christine

After a bit of a lie-in with nothing much to do until an afternoon linguistics tute, Christine gets out of her nightgown and leggings, and equips herself to face the day in her usual shorts and t-shirt; after consulting the weather widget on her phone and seeing the day's high only in the mid teens she adds a cute cropped lavender hoodie, and hopes it will mollify any sponsors or, God forbid, Aunt Bea, she runs into today. She supposes she could've spent the morning pilfering through Dorley's network again or refining her code instead of just lounging and scrolling Consensus, but with nothing much interesting going on around here that's been less of a priority lately; maybe she's growing out of another bad habit.

Somewhat bored and hungry from having lazed about through breakfast, she checks the second floor kitchen and Paige's room, both empty, before heading downstairs in search of food and company. Unfortunately the company she finds upon entering the kitchen includes Aunt Bea, presiding over a few of the second-years who haven't managed to escape her gaze yet.

"Christine dear. I trust you got plenty of sleep?"

Christine freezes in the doorway for a moment before forcing herself to calm and making her way over to fix herself some coffee, and help herself to one of the croissants on a tray on the counter.

"I did, thank you, but I have classes this afternoon so..."

"Your studies are important," Bea says encouragingly; "while you're up, could I have a refill perhaps?"

Christine nods acknowledgement; it's no more trouble to load the cafetière for two cups then for one, after all, and everyone from the second year on up knows how Bea takes hers. Collecting the plain mug the woman who holds her future in her hands is using and giving it a rinse, when she reaches into the cabinet for one of her own she reaches past the chunky grey Round Tuit novelty mug Bea often drinks from herself; why that one is a favourite of hers Christine doesn't know, maybe she'll never understand boomer humour. Instead she grabs the more feminine Once a Princess, Always a Princess before pouring the hot water.

"Hi, all," Pippa says, startling Christine in the middle of spreading blackcurrant jam on her croissant; she looks well-rested and chipper, which might be a result of not having a designated boy to sponsor this year, and of having last night off from her usual security room duty. "Oh, Christine, you're looking well this morning. Nice choice with the hoodie," she beams with cheerful sincerity.

"What's got you so cheerful this morning?" Christine asks with a smile of her own; Pippa may be hell on wheels when she's angry, but she can light up a room when she's in a good mood.

"Unless we get a very late emergency intake or some other catastrophe, I realised this is going to be a good year for me; I get to spend time with my Sisters and earn my way without having to hammer sense into my own personal little creep."

Aunt Bea cuts in at this. "Pippa, you know you'll always have a home here, whether or not you sponsor."

"I know, it's just... I want to pay it forward, but I feel like if I had a boy down there I might break him. More than usual, I mean," Pippa blushes a bit with the admission, and one of the second-years giggles a little while the others go various shades of pale. Pippa plays with the bracelet she always wears, a habit Christine has noticed but never felt comfortable to ask about.

As Christine splits the coffee into Bea's mug and her own, Pippa looks back over to her; "Why don't you let me take over here while you go enjoy your brunch?"

"Thanks," Christine replies before Pippa asks around if anyone else would like a drink; there are enough takers to justify breaking out the drip machine, and Christine mentally kicks herself for not offering something to the newer girls herself.

With both Bea and Pippa being so nice to her this morning for no reason she can tell, she wonders if maybe this is just what happens once you're in third year. Up until now she's mostly stuck with her few friends and her big sister Indira, but thinking back, Vicky's been socialising outside their cohort since they came upstairs; maybe Christine is the reason Christine hasn't connected with many of the others yet.

This is actually really nice, being a woman among women, sharing this moment with no more urgent business than her studies. Maybe she should ask Pippa for eyeliner lessons sometime; not right now though, since Pippa is busy handing around an assortment of atrocious mugs to the growing collection of women who've filtered in for late breakfast or early lunch.

A handful of the older women who've joined them are quietly discussing Programme business, but that's nothing to do with Christine; she'd rather not think of anything happening under the floorboards more than absolutely necessary. Instead she takes the offered refill from Pippa, sips at it until it's almost cool, her body and soul warmed by the hot liquid and the sights and sounds of the women she's with. The way the Sisters all lean in; the way they share chit-chat, Hall gossip, support and advice so freely; the warmth when they say the name Indira gave her; she couldn't have imagined being part of something so fundamentally right before she came here.

As time to leave for her linguistics tutorial approaches she reluctantly excuses herself to grab her things and head across campus. Maybe this will be a good week after all. Maybe even a good year.

Stef

Poring over the documents attached to the email that came in within minutes of Donna's messages, Stef can't believe her luck. The base salary is more than she makes at Tesco, for fewer expected hours, and there's even a bloody signing bonus that'll hit her threadbare bank account within a day if she accepts. When she accepts.

Because for as good as the pay is, the thing that seals it is that this Peckinville Insurance outfit gives every employee free private healthcare. Including transition care. Not just hormones, full transition care: hair removal, voice therapy, all kinds of listed surgeries, the works. Who's running this organisation, that they'd offer something so generous that's tailored to such a small minority? 

Oh well. Not her problem. At this rate she just hopes they're doing well enough she'll never be made redundant, and that she can do a good enough job to never get fired.

No, her problem right now is the "preferred name" blank at the top of the first page of forms. "Stef" isn't a proper name, and she'll walk backwards into hell before she willingly goes by "Stefan" again with anyone she's out to, which she's already certain she will be to this company that seems to be so big on supporting trans employees. Stefanie? Stephanie? She likes the sound of the name Melissa gifted her, but she thinks she likes the latter spelling better; more proper, more sophisticated. She can be Steph with her friends still, but Stephanie is a good name for the woman she hopes she can be.

But then she has an idea. Why stop at just a preferred name? At the café Donna had said that an unenrolled deed poll is just as legal as an enrolled one, and she has until the end of the week before the Peckinville people expect an answer anyway. She does a quick internet search for the proper forms and saves them out to a USB drive to print off at the library. Before getting up to grab a jacket and make the walk across campus, she rides the newfound determination and shoots off a text to Jodie.

Me
I know it's a big ask but
Do you think we can meet up today to witness my deed poll
You're the first person I've come out to
And except for Melissa you're the one I'd most like to share it with

Jodie
I'd be delighted
When and where

Stephanie can't wait to hear Jodie say her new name.

The Boy

Over their plates of veggie lasagna, the boy exchanges sparse small talk with Maria as he sates the hunger he'd been too discombobulated to realise he'd been feeling. As he nears the end of his serving, he figures he's stalled for as long as she'll let him get away with.

"I don't want to be Aaron anymore. I just want to be some random boy, not the new money failson or the posh school punching bag or the amateur photographer or... well, that guy."

"Okay. I can't just call you 'Random Boy' in front of the others though; do you have another name in mind?"

"I hadn't really thought about it. I don't even have a middle name, guess my father wasn't proud enough to give me his, but maybe something else with an 'A' so it won't be too hard to get used to?"

Maria pulls out her phone one-handed and taps around with her thumb; he's noticed she's always careful to keep one hand free for her taser, just in case, or at least make sure not to have anything too breakable in that hand when they're alone together so that she can drop whatever it is and make the sparks fly if he does anything rash. He doesn't blame her, given the average temperament of the residents.

"You were born in ninety-eight; 'Adam' is out on account of your neighbour... 'Andy' was a popular baby name that year. How about it, Andy?"

"I don't know, there are a lot of unsavoury Andrews. There's the royal alleged nonce, that guy from Big Brother who beat up a woman..."

"Given who you're in here with, I doubt anyone would hold it against you."

Her reminder of why they're all here, of how he deserves to be here, makes him want to pull his head into his torso like a turtle; he settles instead for averting his eyes with renewed shame. "No, you're right. It doesn't matter. At least it's not the name I personally dragged through the mud. I could try it out for a while?"

"Of course you can. I know someone who's on her third name, or maybe fourth, depending on how you count. When the name stops fitting you, you'll know, and you can change it again."

"Will the other guys use it? Won't they just still call me the other thing?"

"We'll figure something out. We can tell them it's your middle name; they won't know any different, and if they give you a hard time the sponsors will give them a hard time right back."

Relieved of yet another worry, he stares at nothing and mutters "Andy" to himself a few times before meeting Maria's eyes again. "Could you do it again? Say my name? I want to know what it feels like."

"Of course I can, Andy;" there's a warmth in her voice he's never heard, a tenderness, and Andy begins to think that trusting Maria to get him through whatever is supposed to happen here might be the right call.