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John smoothed out his shirt as he looked at himself in the mirror.
He hated everything about it. He was wearing makeup for the first time in forever, and he noted how long his eyelashes were, how round his cheeks were, how his lips looked full. His hair was shorter now, but still fell over his shoulders and cast his face in waves of soft brown. His chest was prominent without the aid of the binder Laf had bought for him. His shoulders weren’t proud enough, he was too curvy. He hated it.
Suddenly, there were a pair of arms around his waist. Alex stood behind him in the mirror, pulled John close to his chest. Alex was beautiful, of course he was, so effortlessly. He had aged during their time together, and the dark circles under his eyes were more prominent as he worked himself half to death every day, but he was still horribly beautiful. John let his eyes flutter shut, felt his lashes ask against his cheek.
“You look nice,” Alex said. He fixed John’s shirt for him.
John laughed softly, but it was a bitter, angry sound. “Don’t lie to me.”
Alex sighed. He knew how John felt about having to do this. “You don’t have to,” he said softly, and though he didn’t clarify John knew what he was talking about. “You could come out to him.”
John scoffed softly. “You haven’t met my dad.”
Alex frowned at that. “He’s your father,” he said. He pressed a gentle kiss to the back of John’s neck. “He should love you no matter what. You’re his son. If he can’t accept that, then he doesn’t deserve to be your father. Or anyone’s father.”
“Alex,” John sighed. He tried to think of some way to convey what he was feeling, but he knew it was an impossible task. Alex, beautiful, strong, confident Alex had never hidden anything about himself from anyone. John turned to kiss Alex’s cheek. “As far as he’s concerned, I’m his daughter.”
Alex sighed. For a long second, it seemed like he might argue again. Then, “fine.” He took John’s hand and kissed it gently. John gave him a small smile in return. Alex always had the power to woo him. “Come on. Martha called me to tell us she was on her way.”
-
John and Alex were sitting in the kitchen, John with a cup of tea to calm him down and Alex with a cup of coffee to wake him up. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. John turned to it like it was the enemy. Alex stood to answer it, but John stopped him with a gentle hand to his arm. “I got it,” he said softly.
Alex sat back down. John took a deep breath. He got this. He hadn’t seen his father often, but when he did he was a good liar. He could do this.
John pushed the door open. Behind it stood his sister Martha, gorgeous as always, one of the only people in John’s family who knew he was trans. Henry stood next to her, gave John a little fake smile. Out of all of his children, John had always been his least favorite. John thought it probably had something to do with the fact that he was the most out-spoken out of his siblings.
“Hi Jane!” Martha greeted happily. She pulled John into a hug and whispered, “I’m sorry, Jack.” John couldn’t help but smile at that. His sister was always so sweet and accepting.
Henry held his hand out. “Hello, Jane,” he greeted once Martha pulled away.
John shook his hand. “Sir,” he greeted curtly.
Alex, ever the showoff, called, “Who’s that, honey?” John didn’t have time to answer before Alex was by his side, had an arm around his waist. He smiled at Henry. “Mr. Laurens, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Please, come in.”
Martha and Henry walked inside in sync. Martha went to put their bags down as Henry looked Alex over. John closed the door with a nervous smile. Henry and Alex had never met before, and for good reason. However, when Henry had heard of John’s long-term boyfriend, he was determined to meet him. “I’m assuming you’re Jane’s partner?”
“I am!” Alex answered quickly. His eyes met John’s. John gave him a curt little nod to say he was alright. “My name is Alexander Hamilton. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” He shook Henry’s hand.
Henry, for his part, seemed overwhelmed by Alex’s sudden personality. It was usually how people felt when they first met him. “Likewise,” he answered. He looked around and fixed Alex with a glare. “What do you do for a living, son?”
John winced internally. He knew how Alex felt about people calling him son, after his own father had left. Alex, however, had no visible reaction. “I work in a law firm, sir.”
“You’re an attorney?” Henry asked.
“Yessir.”
“So tell me something, Mr. Hamilton,” Henry picked up a picture of Alex and John that was sitting on their coffee table. He inspected it for a second before looking back at Alex. “Couldn’t you afford to put my daughter in an apartment nicer than this dump?”
John was taken aback. “Father, please-”
“It’s alright, Jo-Jane.” Alex gave John a reassuring smile. There was no situation Alexander Hamilton couldn’t talk himself out of. “Jane and I like this apartment. It’s very cozy. It feels like home to us.”
“Mh, sure,” Henry answered.
John felt his face heat. He had been prepared for his father to be passive aggressive towards him, but he hadn’t accounted for how he would feel with his father insulting Alex. His brain whirred to make up for this now. His hand clenched with the effort it took not to punch his father in the face.
“I’m going to make sure that Martha is situated,” John said. He got up quickly and walked to the bedroom, where Martha was sorting through some bags. “Avoiding him too, huh?” he asked.
Martha gave John a gentle smile, “guilty,” she admitted. She sat and pat John’s bed. He sat next to her. Martha looked her brother over and sighed. “I haven’t seen you like this in so long.”
John chuckled softly. He smoothed his skirt before looking back at her. “Do you think I look better?”
“No,” Martha said quickly. She thumbed at the material of his shirt, soft and silky. “You don’t look like yourself.” John scoffed softly at that but said nothing. Martha grabbed his hand, rubbed his thumb gently. “Jack, you should tell him.”
“Martha-” John tried to interrupt.
“No,” Martha said instead. “I know your reasoning, but I think it’s stupid.” John rolled his eyes fondly. Martha’s voice got high as it got defensive, “well I do!” She sighed softly, lowered her voice. “John, he’s your father. I know he might not like the idea now, but he’ll come around to it.”
John looked up at his older sister and felt like a child all over again. “And what if he doesn’t, Mar? What if he never comes around?”
Martha shrugged. “Would you rather live always having to hide this part of yourself, never being able to truly be yourself?”
Suddenly, there was a loud, “Jane Laurens!” from where John had left his father. John and Martha both gave each other a frantic look. John took a deep breath, tried to compose himself as much as possible, before he walked out and over to his father.
Henry was standing in their living room, a photo in his hands. Alex looked about as panicked as John had ever seen him. John had half a mind to pull Alex into a hug and ask him what had happened, except for the fact that he could see for himself. In Henry’s hand, a photo of John, Alex, Herc and Laf at a barbeque. Laf was turned adorably into Herc, a flower in their hair. Herc had an arm around their waist. Alex was in one of his two sweatshirts, and he had an arm around John, who had his hair tied back, a hat on, a baggy sweatshirt, his binder, and a packer. He looked undoubtedly like a guy.
John took a deep breath.
“Sir, I can explain,” John offered lamely.
Henry raised an eyebrow expectedly. All eyes turned to John, who gulped. How was he going to explain this?
Luckily, Alexander jumped in with a gentle hand on John’s back. “Sir, J-”
“No,” Henry cut Alex off quickly. “I don’t want to hear it from you. I want to hear it from my daughter.”
John’s head was spinning with fear. The weight of Alex’s hand on his back was almost too much. John looked up at Alex, who simply nodded back at him. “You can do it, John,” he whispered, not loud enough for Henry to hear.
From the doorway, Martha called, “Jack, he deserves to know.”
“Jack?” Henry repeated. John felt his blood run cold. “Jane, what’s going on?”
John took a deep breath. He grabbed Alex’s hand, laced their fingers together, squeezed his hand. Another deep breath, then, on the exhale, “I’m transgender.”
The words hit the room like a grenade. The air felt hot and thick with the heavy pause. Then, Henry grabbed John’s hand and pulled him away from Alexander. “I knew living with this Hamilton kid was no good for you,” he hissed. John had never heard Alex’s name sound worse in someone’s mouth. “You’re leaving him now, I’m taking you to Charleston.”
John was used to going along with the wishes of his father. However, with one look at Alex, he knew what he had to do. He broke out of Henry’s grip. He looked up at his father, tried to stand as tall as possible. “No.”
“No?” Henry asked. He laughed a little. “What do you mean no?”
“I mean no,” John reiterated. He walked over to Alex, wrapped an arm around his boyfriend’s waist. “I’m an adult. You’re not allowed to control me anymore. I love Alex. I’m staying with him. End of story.”
Henry sighed, “Jane-”
“It’s John.”
Henry and John stared each other down for a long minute. Then, Henry shrugged. “Martha, we’re leaving. Kiss your sister goodbye.”
Martha walked over and kissed John’s head. “I’m proud of you, Jack,” she whispered to him. She squeezed his hand one last time before she left. Henry glanced back at John one last time before closing the door behind himself.
-
When Alex came home from work the next night, John was curled up on the couch. He was wearing a baggy sweatshirt, his hair was up and his head was dropped to his knees. He obviously hadn’t heard Alex come in, but Alex could hear soft sniffles coming from his boyfriend.
“Hey, hey,” Alexander dropped down on the couch next to him and ran a hand up his back. “Come on, love, you’re okay.”
John turned and dropped his head against Alexander’s chest, sobbing with choked off breaths. Alex pressed a little into his back. He could feel the binder under John’s sweatshirt. “Love, you can’t breathe in this thing. Let’s get it off of you.”
With a little bit of coaxing, Alex managed to get John’s sweatshirt and the his binder off. John quickly put the sweatshirt back on, crossed his arms over his chest like he was embarrassed. “Do you just see me as a girl, Alex?”
“What?” Alex asked quickly. “No. Of course not. You’re as much a man to me as any other guy I know. Perhaps even moreso.” John shrugged. Alex’s voice dropped. “Is this about your father?”
When John just shrugged again, Alex sighed. “Darling, he doesn’t know jack shit,” he started. “He’s an asshole. You’re a man because you feel it, not because of what’s in your pants. I wouldn’t care if you were wearing a dress and had hair to your ass and put makeup on daily and stopped taking T. You’d still be a man to me. And if Henry can’t see that, I’m sorry, but he doesn’t deserve to have John Laurens as a son.”
John sighed softly. “Alright,” he said. He stood and reached a hand out to Alex, who took it as he stood too. “I’m going to bed. Come with me?”
Alex kissed John’s neck gently, just held him for a second. “Always,” he answered. “Always.”