Work Text:
Pico watched as a man shot his comrade in cold blood, the civilian-turned-murderer muttering
“It was never meant to be,”
The ginger-haired male rolled his eyes, changing the channel as soon as the cheesy line was spouted.
Pico sat on the couch, flipping through the channels mindlessly. Fuck, cable sucked ass, he thought as he went through station after station of shows center-focused on either semi-attractive white couples or food. He could put up with any crappy show when his boyfriend, Boyfriend (don’t even try to say anything, he’d heard it all before) was by his side, but the electric blue-haired goofball had headed off for the store an hour prior. Albeit Pico was offered the opportunity to accompany him, he stupidly declined, a choice he chastised himself for as he lay back on the couch, bored out of his mind.
Pico’s eyes lit up as he heard the telltale click of the front door’s lock; either his house was about to be pillaged or his boyfriend was home. The more likely option was proven as soon as the door swung open, Boyfriend stepping into the apartment with grocery bags in hand. Thank God he arrived when he did, Pico was on the verge of feeling so strapped for entertainment that he’d consider Russian Roulette as a viable source of amusement.
“Bee, you’re back! Did you by any chance pick up Twinkies while you were there?”
No response. Pico's heart sank as he saw Boyfriend’s expressionless face crack, tears flooding down his cheeks like a dam had burst. Immediately recognizing something serious must’ve happened, Pico was at his boyfriend’s side within seconds.
“Hey, hey, I’m here. It’s going to be okay. It’s okay to cry.” He soothed Boyfriend, rubbing small circles into his back as the cyan-haired man let his walls down and granted himself permission to let everything out in front of Pico.
They sat there like that for what felt like hours, but in reality couldn’t have any longer than ten minutes. Pico had worked Boyfriend through the worst of his tears until he was merely whimpering and teary-eyed in the ginger-haired male’s arms.
“...Do you feel okay telling me what happened?” Pico chose his words carefully; as much as he felt like he’d die if he spent any longer in the dark, he didn’t want to make his partner feel obligated to share, especially if it was still too painful to talk about.
Pico wasn’t owed an explanation just because they were dating. While he didn’t want Boyfriend to keep something paining him to himself, Pico wouldn’t be offended if he wasn’t the first person Boyfriend shared it with. Fortunately, Boyfriend nodded gently. He took a deep breath before speaking.
“So... I was in the store and the cashier rang me up. I grabbed my bags and started walking when I heard her say, ‘have a nice day, ma’am!’ I... I panicked. I felt like everyone heard and was staring at me, like I was outed to everyone in the store. I ran out of there, and I felt like that just sealed the deal. Everyone knew.” As he spoke, more tears began to roll down his cheeks. Pico felt like he just took a punch to the gut. Boyfriend had been going through a particularly bad gender dysphoric episode due to his top surgery appointment getting pushed back, and now this? God, he wanted to drive up to the store, find that cashier, and kick her ass. However, Pico took a breath. He had to keep his emotions in check for Boyfriend.
“Boyfriend, getting misgendered doesn’t make you any less of a man. You wanna know a secret? I’ve been misgendered before.” Pico knew he captured Boyfriend’s attention at that point. “I’ll have to dig up some old family albums to show you, but during elementary school, my hair went down to my back. I looked like a total tomboy. And I doubt the name Pico helped my case. Didn’t quite tip off my gender as well as Adam or Tyler would. But I heard everything from ‘Oh, hello, young lady!’ to ‘Your daughter looks precious!’ back then. The look on my mom’s face was priceless, so I’d always just laugh. But did people thinking my third grade ass was a tomboy make me any less of a man? Hell no. They‘re all dumbasses for assuming specific physical traits equals gender. And you’ll be the one to have the last laugh when you correct them and they realize their mistake.” Pico could hear his heart beat with every second that Boyfriend remained silent. Fuck, was that the right thing to say? Did he just make Boyfriend feel worse?
“B-“ before Pico could even say his partner’s name, the man in question grabbed his face and kissed him softly.
Well, that sure answered his question.
When Boyfriend finally pulled away due to air unfortunately being a necessity, Pico felt the need to ask once more,
“So, did you get the Twinkies or not?”
Pico was promptly bonked on the head.