Chapter Text
Lawrence knew Adam was trans. At this point in their relationship, it was hard not to. Adam wasn't partial to wearing shirts around the house, and though his scars now appeared a faded pink, they still appeared nonetheless. And when they had eventually ventured into the sexual realm of their relationship, there was just no ignoring it. Fortunately, Larry was plenty accommodating. In fact, he'd remarked he was a bit relieved to remain in 'familiar territory.' Adam wasn't sure exactly how he felt about that comment, but he shrugged it off as Lawrence being somewhat ignorant when it comes to 'the whole trans thing.'
He'd admit that their relationship had been a little rushed. Adam had moved in within a month of knowing each other, Lawrence's divorce hadn't even been finalized yet. He'd admit he didn't know everything there was to know about Lawrence, and vice versa, but their relationship wasn't as hopelessly unhealthy as it had been initially, reeking of trauma bonding and codependency. For the first time in his life, Adam was starting to feel the semblance of stability. The kind he'd pined for after every break up, after every rejection, after every desperate one night stand.
So when Adam began to find a miscellany of pointedly womanly products, clothes, perfumes, jewelry, it threw a wrench, and a very big one, into this balance he so vehemently clung to.
At first, it was only a shirt. And that was ambiguous at best. It definitely wasn't a man's dress shirt, but not necessarily a woman's. Though, in all fairness, Adam had never seen Lawrence in it. Adam had found it strewn haphazardly across the bed, their bed. It was hardly worth getting worked up over, however. Adam wasn't especially confrontational and he didn't see any need for confronting.
So, after hanging it (and noting its smell was pointedly not Lawrence's cologne but instead a fruity perfume), he thought no more of it. He trusted Larry. He trusted Larry. Or at least he could keep telling himself that.
Adam wasn't particularly observant, but when it came to Lawrence's attention, he noticed that very little of it was devoted to him now. He didn't ask all of it, he understood he had a little girl hardly 7 years old, a pending divorce, not to mention the immense responsibility of a doctor, but Lawrence had been so caring, so attentive before. Before what?
Of course, all signs pointed to an affair. Adam could be naive but he wasn't stupid. And it wasn't like Lawrence had been the faithful husband before. But he'd always assumed that was because he was unhappy with Alison, even Lawrence himself had confirmed that. Could it be that Lawrence was no longer happy with Adam?
Adam's heart sunk at the thought, but it wasn't as if he'd never faced similar rejections. He'd ought to have known too, that this relationship was borne merely out of trauma, and as soon as Lawrence had found whatever closure he needed in Adam, he'd be off fucking some orderly and just as soon would've shot Adam again.
He refused to voice these concerns to Lawrence, however. He refused to accept what was laid so clearly before him. It was only a shirt, a shirt that very well could've been Alison’s that had been haphazardly thrown in with Lawrence's things. That happens all the time. No bother that the shirt was far too big for Alison nor did it seem like anything she'd ever wear. And the distance, well, Lawrence was an oncologist, after all. The death of patient can be very upsetting, and he knew Lawrence was hesitant to burden Adam with these troubles, despite Adam's insistence that he could talk to him anytime, and if not him, then surely their therapist.
What hurt Adam especially was that the appearance of that shirt meant that if an affair was occurring (which it most certainly wasn't), it was in the midst of their own home. Well, Lawrence's home. His name was the sole one on the lease, but Lawrence had always affirmed the house was theirs. But that was only sentiment, not anything put in law. The house was still Lawrence's, whether Adam liked it or not, and Lawrence could very fuck whoever he'd like in it.
**
Lawrence came home that night an hour or so later than he'd promised. Perhaps he realized that his (not)affair had grown too obvious. He'd explained it away by saying a meeting had went long. The truth lie in his--her--briefcase (she had a terrible habit of misgendering herself), a red and a pink lipstick and a tube of mascara from the drug store. She could afford better, but she had preferences to be decided first.
5 minutes after the given time and Lawrence had yet to appear, Adam had been reduced to tears. Things had simply gone from bad to worse. He'd fallen asleep in their--Lawrence's--bed, his body grown limp after the rhythmic wracking had ceased. He hadn't even paused to shed his jeans and T-shirt.
Tired herself, she tucked away the lipsticks and the mascara in the medicine cabinet, quick to shut the mirror before she caught sight of herself in it. It was almost unbearable now, now that she had seen what she could look like. And hiding it from Adam was all the worse, but, he needed Lawrence, the man. The big, strong, man that took hold of all his fears and banished them from sight. The man that, hobbling, carried Adam from that dismal little bathroom into the morning light. His savior, essentially.
It was cowardly, sure, unable to come out as trans to your trans partner, but Lawrence had been brave enough for one lifetime.
**
Lawrence had been at work when the lipstick and mascara had been found. She thought herself awful clever rolling them in a handkerchief and stuffing them in the furthermost corner of the medicine cabinet, but nothing escaped Adam. Well, not when the incriminating items were so close to where his testosterone was kept.
Adam had already been somewhat upset that Lawrence had not woken him upon getting home, and then waking up to him already gone. Lawrence was insistent that Adam ought to get his sleep, and seeing as he left so early for work, he had always hated to wake him. It could all be explained away quite well, if he tried hard enough. He wanted to make it make sense, he wanted..well, he wanted Lawrence back. And letting it hang in the air would do no good.
He couldn't yet talk to Lawrence about it, again, he was not confrontational in the slightest. Even in the bathroom, it had been Lawrence ganging up on him.
He needed advice is what he needed.
AFS: mandy
AY: ??
AFS: u free 2day ?
AY: y
AFS: i need 2 talk 2 u stop being thick
AY: ah
AY: trouble in paradise ?
AFS: :/
Amanda had met him at a coffee shop 5 or so minutes from his--Lawrence's--house. Never being too much of a Lawrence sympathizer herself, she was all too happy to hear about any possible misgivings Adam may have with him. However, on a similar note, she hated seeing Adam unhappy, therefore, she kind of needed this to work out.
"So, first a shirt, then lipstick?"
"And mascara."
"And mascara. Yikes."
Adam winced, frowning. He bit his cheek and stared at the blank reflection in his coffee.
"I don't know what to tell you, Adam."
"But the shirt wasn't really a woman's shirt."
"Ah. So he's cheating on you with a man."
"But the lipstick.."
"Multiple people, then."
"Amanda."
Amanda relented. She could tell this was really paining Adam. And she had suffocated him with saran wrap.
"I mean, from what I've seen of him, Adam, he's kind of obsessed with you."
"Yeah, I thought so, too."
"They're not Diana's?"
"She's 7."
Amanda shrugged, but Adam found little humor in the situation. If any humor at all.
It had occurred to Amanda that the lipstick, mascara, and the shirt might all be Lawrence's. She didn't voice it, however. If Larry really was cheating, that'd be a sick theory to install in Adam. If she were to even mention it, his blood might relocate so quick he wouldn't be able to stand.
Amanda sent him off with a hug and a slap on the back and his caramel macchiato on her. She did hate to see Adam like this, and the little pity she could feel was directed toward him. God help him, if Lawrence Gordon was cheating, he'd be waking up in that bathroom again, and his trap would be just as rigged as Adam's was.
**
The last straw had been a bra tucked carelessly beneath Lawrence's bed. It was a pale pink, and although Adam had never really excelled at cup sizes and such, he could tell it was for a bigger woman with smaller breasts.
Lawrence wasn't home until 8, that is if he even bothered showing up on time. That gave Adam plenty of time to stew in his anger and misery.
5 hours passed slowly and painfully. He wasn't even all that angry (though let it be known, he was angry), he was disappointed. Sad, even. This had been the longest relationship he'd ever been in, not to mention the healthiest. It pained him too because Lawrence would always be a part of him, and he too would always be a part of Lawrence. After the bathroom, however far apart they might be physically, there was still a tie that binds. And it hurt him to know that even if he may always be someone to Lawrence, have a part to play in his life, he wouldn't be the someone. And that someone, whoever it was, would never, ever understand Lawrence like he did.
The lock clicked.
He still had the bra in his grasp, and his knuckles clenched as he heard the familiar squeal of the door swinging open. He heard Lawrence enter, hang up his coat, slide his shoes off and pad into the living room. He caught sight of Adam almost immediately, balled up on the couch.
Before he could even open his mouth, Adam stood, white knuckling the bra.
"What the fuck?!"
Lawrence went white. He faced Adam with wide eyes, blue and beautiful against a pale canvas, just as they'd been the day they met. But Adam didn't relent.
"Tell me!"
Adam's voice cracked, tapering out. Tears he'd sworn off initially began to pile in the corners of his eyes, both fists shaking. Larry appeared almost his mirror image, still white-faced, his mouth hanging open, dry. Even his teeth seemed to shiver.
He began to cry. Adam hadn't seen Lawrence cry since the bathroom.
Whimpering, Lawrence took slow, methodic steps to the couch, only a foot or two from where Adam stood. She held her head in her hands, shoulders shaking slightly, hair bouncing. If Adam didn't know any better, he'd think him to be laughing. A cry so loud and similar to the one he heard in the bathroom pierced Adam's heart. He dropped the bra and sat beside his lover.
"Lawrence?"
"I'm so sorry..."
A flare of anger arose in Adam's stomach.
"I was going to tell you--" Lawrence cut herself off, his voice wavering.
"So tell me. Tell me that..that you cheated."
Lawrence grew still. For the first time since she'd begun crying, she looks up to face Adam, glassy eyed and more wrecked than Adam had ever seen him, a side of Lawrence even the bathroom hadn't revealed.
"Adam. Adam, no. I--Adam. I love you. I love you."
Adam had really begun to deteriorate, he was so far gone that he could hardly speak, eyes swarming with tears so that he could hardly see. His tears were no longer silent but instead each was a hacking cough, a wracking sob. He looked to the bra.
"So..so then--"
Lawrence caught the gist. She wasn't mad Adam had thought him to be cheating, she hadn't any room to be. She could see why he thought so, and instead felt ashamed she had let her lover go so long thinking so. It took her a moment to compose herself, to still her shaking hands, with one of which she took Adam's hand, her thumb gently caressing his palm.
"Adam. I.."
A dry chuckle is caught in Lawrence's throat. She'll saw her own foot off, but she'll be damned if she comes out to her longterm boyfriend.
"I'm..transgender." The word feels foreign on her tongue, despite all the times she and Adam have used it. Never before has she used to describe herself. But it feels good. So good. A smile breaks out on her face.
Adam looks up, still hiccuping but with drying tears, with wide eyes. For a moment, she could see a flicker of disbelief, then of shame, but she watched both disappear as he caught sight of her smile.
"Shit, I-I'm sorry."
She uses her spare thumb to wipe the last of the tears from his eyes, cradling his face.
"It's okay, hey--it's okay."
She smiled throughout. Lawrence wondered if Adam had felt this happy coming out. Based on what she knew of his family's response, she doubted it. She hoped he would never feel so alone again.
Their foreheads rested together, and both could see the other's smile out of the corner of their eye.
"Um--" Adam prompts.
Lawrence pulls away, facing a grinning Adam.
"Can I--well, you have the, um, can see you in--?"
He's cute tripping over his words, and Lawrence's smile grows so big it's almost enough to make her cheeks ache. But any discomfort whatsoever it worth it.
"Oh, yeah, just a second."
She disappears into their bedroom. Shutting the door softly behind her, she can't seem to quell her nervousness. She knows Adam will like what he sees no matter what. But she's older, and hasn't even considered hormones yet, and..she just wants to look as good as she feels. For him. For herself.
Her wardrobe isn't especially spacious yet, only the shirt Adam must have found, a tight-fitting pencil skirt, and a blazer. Work clothes. For the working woman. Not that she would ever wear this outfit exactly to work, even after coming out. She's happy enough playing sexy doctor at home and at home only. Speaking of which--
She had never found herself sexy prior to transitioning. Ever. Not with Alison and not the one orderly she did end up going all-the-way with (he was the only one who would her feminization fantasy, which made her realize two things: one, this isn't just a sex thing and two, she would never go to bed with a cis man again. Lucky for her she didn't have to.)
Lawrence--actually, she had been considering the name Laura for quite a while now--came quietly out of their bedroom, only the faint click of her cane against their wooden floors heralding her appearance.
Adam looked up. Amanda was right about two things. Lawrence--Laura, was a trans woman. And that Adam's blood relocated so quickly he wasn't able to stand.
"Holy shit."
She blushed. Several things, she found, gave her gender euphoria but nothing quite like a lover boy wrapped around her finger.
Adam was in awe. He thought he found Lawrence sexy before but the woman that stood in front of him was nothing short of divine. Her hair was long enough it curled around her ears and the nape of her neck, and fell in golden curls from the top of her head. The shirt, a simple gray button down, accentuated her broad shoulders (which Adam had always found particularly attractive on women) and was on button short, revealing a tan strip of skin from her neck to her sternum, where a black bra peaked out. The shirt tapered off into a gray skirt (Adam would have to convince his girlfriend there are other colors on the spectrum) that did two of Adam's favorite things, emphasized her hips and revealed her legs.
"Come here. Please."
Laura sat where she had previously, Adam inching near her.
He looked at her like she'd hung the moon.
"You are not real."
"Adam.."
He was quick to take her face into his hands, like she had his.
"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."
"Liar."
"Truther."
"Prove it."
"Yes, please."
**
The stability Adam had so mourned when he thought he had lost it forever was back and better than before. He had always gotten the feeling that even with the divorce finalized and custody of Diana secured, there was something still eating away at Laura. He had never seen her happier.
Prior to her transition, Adam had never mentioned to her that having a cisgender partner can be incredibly isolating for a trans person. He was glad he didn't feel so alone anymore. That she understood everything, from how his left shoulder ached (from the bathroom) to how his right shoulder ached (from top surgery.)
Laura had been received into a clinic a month or so after coming out to Adam, and had started estrogen shortly after. She wasn't sure what had been harder, coming out to the hospital or to her ex-wife and daughter. Both had accepted her gladly, but the nerves working up to it had nearly killed her.
Alison had been perfectly supportive, albeit taken by surprise. It had taken some explaining to wrap Diana's head around it, but Adam could pick up that Diana could tell that 'Mommy' was a lot happier than she had been, and a lot more willing to play make over.
Adam was quick to let Amanda know, to ensure that Laura wouldn't be waking up in the bathroom anytime soon. Amanda had never admitted that she'd known, or had at least guessed, but she was glad to hear Adam happy. (And she agreed that Laura made a very handsome woman--though she'd never tell Adam that.)
It was shortly after 10pm on a Saturday, Laura had taken the day off, that they themselves in bed, Laura curled up into Adam's side. Prior to transitioning, she would have never have taken such a submissive position. She was--or had thought herself to be--a man, and she couldn't break, or be vulnerable, or allow herself anything at all. She had been Alison's husband, Diana's father, the Dr. Gordon. It wasn't until Adam that she learned to shrug that title off.
Adam had been happy to watch the ceiling fan spin, steadily dozing off, until he heard a quiet huffing over his shoulder. He leaned up to find Laura, face wet with tears, the corners of her mouth quirked up.
"Hey, baby--you okay?"
"Yeah, Adam, I'm..Adam, I'm happy. Lay back down--"
He lay flat against their twin pillows so he could face her, her wet blue eyes warm and inviting, her cheeks tinted red with warmth and happiness. Golden curls, which had since grown quite long, fell lopsided down her forehead and behind her ear.
"I'm so happy." She finished.
Adam looked at her the way he always looked at her, whether had just woken up, or come home from a 12 hour shift, or thrown up or cried, or came, whatever she was doing, he looked at her with a mixture of awe, and love, and even still, disbelief. Disbelief that was she was his. Adam had always dreamed of settling down with a hot babe, but this--this was something else entirely. Laura was witty, intelligent, understanding, attentive--the fact that she was a bombshell was just a plus. He ran a hand through those gold curls of hers. Adam was happy too.
He'd actually taken a page from her book as of recent. The old handkerchief in the medicine cabinet as a matter of fact. Lucky for him though, there's not a lot of room of misinterpretation when it comes to a ring.