Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Larry pulls at the soft fabric of the dress. Around his neck where it clings, on his back where it dips low and exposes more of his bandages, at the sash around his waist.

“Oh, stop fussing, Larry, I just need a few more minutes,” Rita assures him as she walks back in, now holding a pair of scissors and a tape measure. He can’t decide if it’d been a good idea or a bad idea to let himself be subjected to modeling Rita’s new hobby, but he stands there rigid letting her fidget with the dress nonetheless. She hadn’t let him get a look in a mirror yet, so he has no idea how he looks in the thing besides glancing down to see how the dress flares around his body. He probably looks horrible, he thinks to himself.

Rita seems to read his mind. “Whatever you’re thinking in that head of yours, it’s wrong. You look perfect, absolutely perfect. Just have to tighten this bit a little…” She trails off, and Larry smiles a little under his bandages. At least she means well.

The dress is yellow. It’s got little white dots all over it, and he feels like this is something Rita would definitely wear on a special occasion. Even Sheryl, once upon a time. It has white lace adorning the hem, and the sash below his navel is a deep blue. He’s gotta admit it, the dress is pretty. He tells himself he can’t wait to get out of it. That he just wants to put his pants back on. He thinks, this is dumb. This is just dress-up. It’s only pretend. It’s fine.

“Aaaand there! It’s done! Now, for the grand reveal!” Rita exclaims, making elaborate motions with her arms at ‘grand reveal.’ He gently snatches the scissors in her waving hands, afraid she’ll cut something or herself, and starts walking gracelessly to the full-length  mirror in Rita’s room. The scissors drop from his own hand, though, as he reaches it and looks at himself.

He… he looks good.

What began as detachment from the garment on his body under the guise of this being Rita’s idea begins to morph and grow into abashed comfort.

“You like?” Rita asks as she picks up a brown sunhat and places it carefully on Larry’s head. Once she’s done, she locks their arms playfully and runs a hand down the bottom of her own dress, admiring how the fabric looks in the mirror.

A subtle blush runs up Larry’s neck under the bandages. If he weren’t so shell-shocked, he might’ve even started to smile. Slowly, he shifts his weight from side to side. The fabric shifts and he watches the way the creases move. With his free hand, he runs it down his side; starting at his waist, he moves lower until he bends to feel the ruffled hem in his hands. He picks it up and stares at the detail.

He looks pretty. He feels pretty. He finds, somehow, he’s not quite as afraid of looking pretty than before. 

He gently lets go of Rita’s arm to take a hesitant look at the back of the dress. She’s tied the sash in a bow, and that’s when he actually does start to smile. He spins once, then a second time, a little faster. A breathy laugh escapes his mouth as he steps back to Rita’s side and locks their arms again, still entranced.

He looks up to see Rita’s reflection staring at him, a knowing smirk on her lips. It gets wider when he notices, her nose scrunching up cheekily.

“...What?”

“You like it. I knew you would,” she beams.

Larry elbows her in the stomach and she bends at the waist, laughing loudly. He starts laughing too, softly at first, but gets more enthusiastic until both of them are trying to catch their breath sitting on Rita’s bed wearing dresses. 

Larry should really get some different shoes; he’s still wearing his boots, for god’s sake.

“Would you like to show the others?” Rita asks a while later, after a thrilling discussion about Rita’s process of finding the right fabrics. Her tone is light, but Larry can see concern in her eyes. He can tell she’ll trust his decision, no matter what he says. He loves her for that.

He wonders, for a moment, what they’d say. A thorned, mean, and hurt voice in the back of his mind tells him they’d laugh him out of the room. They’d disown him as a part of this family of outcasts, and rip his dress and his heart to shreds. He stops that thinking before it can snowball into anything bigger, though. A family doesn’t do that to you. Hate is learned, he’s come to realize, and if there’s anyone on earth who’s doing their best to un-learn it, it’s his team.

He realizes after a moment that he hasn’t answered yet, and inhales a breath.

“Not yet. But maybe… sometime.” Rita nods at his words, a look of light-hearted understanding crossing her face as she closes her eyes and continues folding various fabrics. She keeps jumping from subject to subject, and by the end of the night Larry’s agreed to keep being her model. His cheeks hurt from smiling; he votes for a purple dress next. 

Chapter Text

The second dress Rita makes is purple, and the sequins decorating the upper half and the hem glint in the light as Larry walks into the living room and directly into the gaze of his team. Of his family.

Rita had asked, gently, “Are you sure? Maybe Jane or Hammer- well, maybe not Hammerhead- would like to model, if you aren’t feeling up to it.” He’d been sure. She’d smiled at him, patted him on the shoulder, and shifted around him to keep zipping the dress up.

She sits in an armchair now, holding a cup of tea and smiling warmly as Larry arrives in the room. She turns to Cliff, Jane and Vic in the seats next to her and gestures in a wide arc at the model before them. “Behold,” she bellows, “ my creation!! ”

Larry snorts, and the rest let out a huffy laugh. Rita looks slightly affronted, which only makes everyone laugh harder. 

“Lookin great, Frankenstein!” Cliff shouts.

“Frankenstein was the scientist. I’m Frankenstein’s monster,” Larry remarks, a fond warmth in his voice. Even Rita has to smile at that one as the laughter continues.

This is going- so incredibly well, Larry thinks, his face pulled in a soft smile instead of the anxious grimace of a few minutes ago. The low undercurrent of nervous energy that had been twisting his insides subsides at seeing all his friends laughing, and not at his expense like he’d been worrying about. He stands now with his hands together, feeling his bandages with his fingers.

“No, but seriously, that dress is amazing, Rita. It looks like you bought it off somewhere,” Vic says, and Rita smiles brightly.

“Oh, well, you know…” she says, and flaps her hand as if to brush off the compliment as a faux attempt at modesty. “One can only practice,” she settles on, and takes a sip of her drink, still smiling into the rim.

“Give us a spin,” Jane pipes up, grinning like a cat. She side-eyes Cliff, her expression changing from nonchalantly content to sly.

Larry spins, first slowly, then faster. He takes a look at Cliff once he stops, and for some reason feels like he’d be grinning like a madman right with Jane, if he could. He curtsies playfully in Cliff’s general direction.

Jane hums. “Not bad. How much money I gotta pay for one?” She looks to Rita, a smirk still on her lips.

Rita flushes slightly, and waves her hand again. “Nonsense, dear, we’re friends. I can whip you one up right away.”

Jane’s grin only grows wider.

“Oh! Also, if you don’t mind, when Hammerhead shows up next, can you tell her I want to show her, too? Of course, only if she’d like to see-” Rita trails off, still looking at Jane. 

Jane’s expression has grown softer, even happier, and she lifts her head to place it in her own hand. “Yeah, I can do that.”

The rest of the night carries on in much the same fashion, laughter pealing off the walls as Larry comes out with the other dress on. Soon, Rita’s had her fun showing off and Larry finds a seat between Cliff and Vic, and comfortable conversation carries as they watch a film. He fidgets with the fabric of the yellow dress between his fingers the whole night, his hand an inch from Cliff’s.

The door creaks as she walks in. 

“Hey,” Hammerhead calls softly.

Rita looks up from fussing over some patterns, and looks stunned at seeing her stand there. Her brows furrow a bit, and it takes Hammerhead a second to realize why.

“It’s not Jane, Rita.” Her iron grip on the doorknob drops to fold her arms across her chest.

“Oh, Hammerhead! You came,” Rita exclaims, beginning to pick up her things scattered across the floor. 

“Yeah, uh. Jane told me you wanted to- to see me…” She’d actually made a vulgar joke as she passed, but Rita doesn’t need to know that. She drops her arms to fidget with her fingers, suddenly uncomfortable and not coming up with a reason why. It frustrates her.

“Yes, yes, come! Sit,” Rita says, patting the ground next to her as she gets up to pull something out of the closet. Hammerhead does, fitting one leg under her body and sitting the other up so she can rest her arm on it. 

“Now, did Jane tell you why I wanted to see you?” At this, Hammerhead shakes her head. If it was a little too quickly, Rita doesn’t comment on it.

“Yeah, no. I thought maybe you needed something in here broken or something.” She gestures to a lamp nearby, and Rita waves her off. 

“Nonsense, nonsense. You’re here becauuuse…” She pauses, sticking out her tongue to reach something inside the closet while also making sure a piece of clothing hanging on her arm stays there. It’s kind of cute, Hammerhead thinks with a little smile. She wipes it off her face as Rita turns back to her. 

Rita huffs, a proud smile on her face. “You’re here because we are going to play dress-up!”

“...What.”

“Oh come on, Hammerhead, don’t look so unhappy. Here.” She lays one of the clothes down on the ground for Hammerhead to see, and she realizes it’s a dress. 

It’s a very pretty dress, actually. The yellow and blue kind of look good together, and the lace at the hem-

She pauses, realizes Rita’s looking down at her with something like concern. Huh.

“Are you... do you want to? I mean of course you don’t have to, I just...” She shifts on her feet, and looks down at the dresses. “I made them, and I wanted to show you. Jane liked them, I thought maybe you would too.”

So maybe Hammerhead likes Rita, a little bit. Big deal.

“Oh, Rita, it’s fine. I think that’d be good... You didn’t actually do too bad of a job,” she says, gesturing to the dress on the floor. Rita lets out a relieved sigh, suddenly beaming.

“Well, I’m glad!” She sits down, cross-legged, beside Hammerhead, and lays out the other dress. Then she looks at Hammerhead, then back at the dresses, then back to her.

“...What?”

“Which one do you want to wear first, dear?”

Hammerhead stops. She thinks. Really hard.

She can’t stop herself from going, roughly, “How about the purple one?”

Rita beams brighter.