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“Hey Book?” Nile shouted from the other end of the hall.
“Hey Nile?” Booker responded in the exact same tone as he rummaged through his bag, looking for the least dirty change of clothes available. He finally found a pair of jeans with no blood and minimal dirt on them and tugged them on over his boxers.
“How do you feel about musicals?”
Booker rolled his eyes as he finished toweling off and grabbed a fresh roll of ace bandage.
“We are not watching Les Miserables for movie night if that’s what you’re getting at,” he called back and shook his head as he started wrapping his chest. He made sure it was snug but mostly breathable because he wasn’t sure if he’d have a chance to adjust it for a couple of days at least. He was just securing the end of it when his door swung open and Nile strolled in.
“I was actually thinking something a bit...more...modern…” Nile trailed off as Booker scrambled to grab a shirt to cover himself. He hugged the t-shirt against his chest and kept his shoulders squarely facing Nile. He forced himself to take a deep breath before making and maintaining eye contact.
“It’s polite to knock, you know,” Booker said calmly, trying to ignore how warm his face was getting.
“What are you doing?” Nile inquired as she slowly shut the door behind her. The furrow of her brow and tightness in her jaw made Booker tense, even though he already knew he wasn’t doing anything wrong.
“Something that is definitely none of your business, hence the closed door and why people usually knock. So if you’ll excuse me,” he explained and gestured toward the door, trying his best to maintain his composure even though he was pretty confident he could puke right about now.
“If you’re hurt and trying to hide it then that is absolutely my business,” Nile replied and crossed her arms over her chest in defiance.
“I’m not hurt. And even if I was, I’d be fine in ten minutes, you know that,” Booker reminded her with a sigh.
“If you aren’t hurt then why else would your ribs be all wrapped up like that?”
Booker stared at her for a long moment and chewed on the inside of his cheek. Fuck it, they’d have to have this talk eventually, might as well be now. So he dropped his shirt onto the edge of his bed and rolled his shoulders as he shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Nile just looked puzzled so he sighed and stepped closer.
“It’s not for my ribs,” he explained quietly, voice a bit rougher and a smidge closer to breaking than he would’ve liked. He kept his eyes locked on the wall to his left, avoiding Nile’s gaze. In this close proximity it was easy to identify the swell of his breasts even as flattened as they were under the bandaging.
“God you’re so stupid.”
Admittedly, out of all the responses he was prepared for, that wasn’t one of them.
“Excuse me?” Booker replied and snapped his eyes back to Nile who looked lost somewhere between being upset and incredibly frustrated.
“You’re stupid,” Nile repeated and frowned at him. “Do you know how bad it is to bind with ace bandages? That could fuck up your body, like, permanently. I don’t even want to think about how long you’ve been doing that because I honestly think I’d break a rib just thinking about it. Do you seriously not have anything better?” Nile looked at him expectantly and Booker floundered for a moment.
“That’s the part you’re mad about…?” He asked slowly and just stared at her.
“Uh, yeah. Binding like this isn’t safe, Book. You’ve been around long enough that you should know that by now. You could deform your rib cage or lower your lung capacity which is the last thing you need considering how much you smoke,” Nile responded and scrunched up her nose at the thought.
“Well I’d rather not get the shit kicked out of me every time I run to the store so forgive me if I don’t want to stop,” Booker muttered with a roll of his eyes before retreating back to his bed and sitting on the edge, running a hand through his hair.
“Do you seriously not have a binder or a compression shirt or anything?”
Booker frowned. Did he hear her right? A binder? What did office supplies have to do with this? He just stared at her blankly, hoping that she’d expand on that, but unfortunately Nile just stared back. When she realized she wasn’t getting an answer, Nile groaned.
“Okay, come on. Take that off and find a shirt then meet me downstairs,” she ordered before turning and leaving, but thankfully closing the door behind her. Booker stared at the now closed door in confusion and hesitated before doing as he was told. He knew better than to argue with Nile; she was the most stubborn person he’d ever met. So he very carefully unwrapped his chest before tugging on a t-shirt and Joe’s old sweatshirt that he’d stolen all those years ago before padding downstairs.
Nile was sitting on the couch in the den with his laptop open in her lap when he found her. Booker hesitated a moment before going to the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee before returning to the den and sitting beside her. He had a feeling he’d need caffeine to get through whatever lecture awaited him.
“Almost three hundred years old and you still don’t know how to take care of yourself,” Nile muttered as she opened what appeared to be a third window on the browser.
“Are you planning on doing any explaining or are you just going to sit here and lecture me? Because if it’s the latter, I’d rather grab a book first,” he griped and ducked when Nile swatted at the back of his head.
“Shut up, I’m trying to help you,” Nile replied and shifted closer to him so Booker could see the screen too. The page she had pulled up showed a variety of what looked almost like the sports bras he had tried at the beginning of the century. He frowned and unconsciously wrapped his arms around himself, but stayed quiet, waiting on Nile’s explanation that he hoped was coming soon.
“These are called binders. You can get ones that look like this or they also have ones that are basically like tank tops,” she began, scrolling down to show the other variations. “They’re made of multiple layers of fabric to help with compression and most importantly, they evenly distribute the pressure so that ideally you don’t destroy your ribs when you wear them.”
Booker was apprehensive. He had no way of knowing if the models in the pictures were already flat-chested without the binders on so he wasn’t quite convinced. As if sensing his hesitation, Nile nudged him gently.
“If it helps, you’re already pretty small chested so you could probably get close to flat with a proper binder. Plus you’d be able to breathe easier, so that’s a bonus,” she pointed out and kept a close eye on him.
He had to admit that it sounded like an improvement over his current strategy. If he got a tank top then maybe it wouldn’t feel too similar to a bra and wouldn’t make him feel as gross inside. Might be worth a shot.
“Yeah, okay,” Booker murmured reluctantly after mulling it over.
“Okay?” Nile asked, looking for confirmation as she broke into a small smile.
“Yes, okay. I’ll try it. Now where do we get one of these things?”
“We can order it online and have it sent to Copley’s then he can send it here?” Nile suggested and Booker shrugged. Seemed as good of a plan as any at this rate.
So they poked around the website for a bit, debating pros and cons of the different styles. After much arguing, they agreed to order one shorter binder and one of the longer tank top ones so Booker could try them both out and figure out from there if he liked either of them. By the time they figured out the sizing and what colors to get, Booker was mentally exhausted. He’d practically never talked to anyone about trans related topics for that long at a time and his mind was reeling. When Nile finally confirmed the order, Booker had rearranged himself on the couch so that he was lying with his head next to Nile’s thigh and his legs draped over the other end of the couch.
“And there we go. They should get here by the end of the week,” Nile smiled down at him.
“Sounds good,” Booker mumbled through a yawn and burrowed a little deeper into his sweatshirt. Nile laughed brightly.
“Take a nap, I’ll wake you up when the others get back with food, alright?”
“Always knew I liked you,” Booker murmured contently and lazily grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Thank you, by the way.”
“Yeah, of course. Anything I can do to help,” Nile replied with a shrug.
“And thanks for not…being weird about this. I appreciate it,” he added softly.
“Sure thing, Book. We’re good as long as I never catch you binding with bandages again.”
Booker let out a small laugh before using his index finger to draw an x over his heart. “Cross my heart, I won’t do it again. Mainly because I don’t want another lecture,” he added with a smirk.
“Maybe if you took care of yourself, I wouldn’t need to lecture you,” Nile replied but her tone and smile were warm and teasing. They both knew he had plenty of lectures left to endure, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.