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Shiro’s insecurities are many and numerous, as in he could literally make a list as long as his arm to prove it, but he would probably point to his chest as one of his top insecurities that no one would have ever guessed.
He was already tall when people perceived him as a woman, so that should have leaned to him passing better, and his dedication to fitness has only helped him to cut a more masculine figure now. It’s true, he gets complimented all the time at the gym, it’s just… the wrong way. It could be his hair, or maybe how he lifts, but somehow the guys who get the courage to hit on him are surprised he’s also a guy and, though he’s kind of flattered, the few girls who approach him say that they do so because they think he’s a butch lesbian.
It’s not only an invasion of his private time and space but like, wow, thanks for misgendering the fuck out of him.
The first few times it happened, he had to duck and run for the bathroom to have a quick crying session over being publicly invalidated.
He would stare down at his chest in the compression sports bra he’d searched hours for, after recommendations from sales clerks and online reviews that it was supposed to be best for the job, and hate himself just a little more. Hate this part, specifically, just that much more.
There only had to be a few more incidents before Shiro finally gets up the courage to tell his friends, and he feels like he shouldn’t be as surprised as he is by their collectively disgusted reactions.
Keith and lance both immediately offer to become his gym partners, which leads to a tense staredown and awkward few moments of huffing between them.
“Besides,” Keith suddenly remarks, breaking the staring match first. He completely ignores Lance’s indignant squawks of protest in favor of placing a warm hand on Shiro’s bare forearm and pinning him to this exact spot in the universe, “You’re the most masculine and manliest guy I know, so I’m not really sure how they keep getting it wrong. You’re, like, a real-life He-Man or something.”
Shiro hears Matt, Pidge, and Hunk snickering and Lance yelling increasingly insane compliments about his “virile thighs” and “intrepid eyelashes” at a growing volume, but all of that dims in comparison to the searing heat of Keith’s hand still on his arm and the thrall of his stare.
“Thanks, Keith.” He manages to say.
Shiro’s heart thuds in his chest.
Gods, Keith really is his best friend for a reason.
“I know this won’t solve everything, but Pidge, do you still have that website from a few years ago?” Matt suddenly asks, his voice cutting through the fog in Shiro's mind.
“Yeah, the one with custom binders, right?”
“What’s a binder?” Shiro asks, confused as to why he’d need school supplies in this situation.
“Remember when I was transitioning a few years ago?” Pidge asks, adjusting their glasses just a little and ensuring that Shiro is paying attention before continuing. “Well, before I got surgery, I was buying from this small business online that made custom compression binders for trans and nonbinary folks who didn’t want to have as much on top.”
Shiro’s eyes widen for a moment and shock sets in at how he never considered looking into this - or had even heard of something called a binder until now. Trust Pidge to be such a great resource!
“That’d be great, Pidge!”
—--------
After a few hours of browsing multiple sites and message boards for binder advice and best wear practices, Shiro pulls the trigger on a new cropped binder and a full tank top style one.
It takes a few weeks for his order to arrive, but the day the email shows up in his inbox, he practically breaks his car door handle trying to get in after work and definitely breaks a few local speed laws to get home and rip it open.
It sits on his porch in an unassuming white plastic package, but Shiro feels his heart ready to leap out of his chest as he collects it and throws open his door to run to his room and try it on.
Shiro stabs his house key into an edge of the plastic and rips through with little caution, causing both the inner packages to fall onto his bed. Reverently, Shiro reaches for the full tank binder first, pinching open the clear plastic wrap and unfolding the fabric to study it in the afternoon light, grinning like a loon.
He takes his time unbuttoning his work shirt, laying it down flat on his bed on the other side of the delivery carnage, before turning his attention to the overly tight sports bra he still has on.
His fingers feel weak, almost slippery, as they unclasp the back and it the straps slide down his shoulders. The lines where the band of the bra dug into his side stings painfully as blood flow rushes back and his chest feels heavy as he lets all of the fabric fall from his fingers to the floor.
For a second, Shiro wonders if he should also pick it up and lay it on the bed, nicely folded.
But with any luck, he won't need to wear them much anymore.
Shiro reaches for the binder again, tests the give, and is only mildly surprised by how little there is. He remembers it isn’t supposed to have that much give but is supposed to still be comfortable. The fabric feels soft and breathable. He feels excited to feel it against him.
He pulls the tank over his head and onto his torso, twisting and adjusting himself until it sits comfortably against his body. Then, Shiro stares down at his work shirt and ultimately decides to pull that back over as well to check the real difference in his everyday appearance.
He walks to the hallway bathroom, each step feeling like a mile-long trek.
What if it doesn’t work?
What if it doesn’t make any difference at all?
But when Shiro flips on the light and pulls himself up to this full height, he realizes there’s no need to worry.
The difference is subtle to a stranger, but a world’s difference to him.
His pecs are finally flat. They’re no longer round and breast-shaped, in little cups that sports bras and early bralettes forced him into. He just looks flat and unmistakably male.
And Shiro just folds and cries tears of joy in his bathroom.
(If he sends a snap to the group once he pulls it together just to gas himself up, well, his friends are amazing and no one can blame him.)