Archive of Our Own

Xander hadn’t washed his hair properly since he came to prison. That was about thirteen months.

Sure, he rinsed it when he had the time, but there was only so much cold water could do against hours’ worth of sweating outside whilst doing community service plus your scalp’s natural oils.

Yeah, it was fucking disgusting. The grease had made its way all the way down to the ends of his hair. An impressive feat, considering his hair was literally ass length and extremely thick.

Also, being a “violent criminal” meant he was not granted the courtesy of a hair tie, in case of the off chance he decided to use the elastic band as a murder weapon, apparently, so his hair hung around his face, heavy with grease and dirt. Inmates’ rights his ass. It was a different kind of dehumanising.

He had considered just chopping it all off at one point, but a tiny, childish, defiant part of him didn’t want to.

He had never had freedom from his family in the slightest, but one small act of rebellion he had was his hair. Instead of keeping it in the strict, sensible, close-cut style like the rest of the men in his family, he let it grow long.

It infuriated his father. Xander had a few distinct memories of him trying to hold him down whilst trying to hack his hair off with a pair of kitchen scissors.

No, he had decided. He would keep his hair. For resistance. If his father was looking up at him (yes, up), Xander knew it would grind his gears to no end.

Still, at times like this, the sun beating relentlessly on his back, sweat beading at his hairline and trickling down his temple, and collecting in the most unfortunate places possible, he wondered if he should just buzz it off completely. He swept it back from his face, but it only came swooping back again. He’d always had a tendency to hide behind his hair, but it was extremely irritating at that moment.

He dug his heel into his shovel, trying to get it to work, but only accomplishing almost tripping over it, barely avoiding falling face-first in the dirt. Great. Fucking fantastic.

He kicked the offending shovel, rage suddenly rising up in his chest for whatever reason.

“Hey,” the guard on duty, a round-faced guy with a tan and green eyes, Aaron or Arthur or something, called out, “Lee. Watch it, there.”

“Suck my dick, asshole.” Xander snapped back at him.

So, Xander’s little outburst ended up earning himself the wonderful duty of cleaning all the toilets in the cells. Now, holy shit were they fucking disgusting. Why did no one flush the toilet? Not to mention some bastard had evidently gotten explosive diarrhea or something. The only reason Xander didn’t drown himself in the toilet water is because the water in question was extremely gross.

So, by the time he was waddling back to his cell, now reeking of both body odour and shit, Aaron or Arthur or whatever the fuck his name was, stopped him.

“Good job, Lee.” He said, looking a little bit sheepish about the punishment now. Would’ve been a lot more helpful if he’d felt that way earlier, but whatever.

The cop jerked his head. “Now head off to the showers, okay? You stink. The rest of the inmates who were on your shift are already in there.”

Oh. Xander shifted uncomfortably, his heart’s beating starting to speed up from a steady thud to a nervous flutter. “I’ll… wait.”

Aaron/Arthur raised a thick eyebrow at him dubiously. “Uh. No. Not sure you get this. You reek. You need to shower, we can’t have it like a zoo in here.”

Xander swallowed thickly. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He was so fucked. Perhaps even literally. Oh God.

He was caught off guard by the feeling of his eyes stinging. What the fuck, was he crying? Surely not.

Judging by the alarmed expression on Aaron/Arthur’s face, he was, in fact, crying.

“Oh, no. There’s no need to cry- I- I didn’t know personal hygiene was such a distressing topic-”

“Oh my God, shut up.” Xander said, but his words were muffled by his sobs, thankfully, otherwise he might have earned himself another toilet-cleaning shift.

Aaron/Arthur started backing away slightly, like Xander was a wild animal, something that made even more frustration bubble up in his chest.

“Okay, Lee. Permission for you to just go right back to your cell, okay?” He said nervously.

Xander resisted the urge to scream, and obeyed, storming back to his cell.

Approximately twenty minutes later, he heard the sound of a key turning. He didn’t need to turn around to know it was Ethan Collins.

“Hey, Alex,” he slid shut the door behind him, crouching in front of where Xander was sitting with his knees drawn to his chest, like a child.

Ethan blinked, probably taking in the sorry state of his red-rimmed eyes. “Huh. So you actually were crying. I thought Aaron was just exaggerating. He feels terrible about it, by the way. So I don’t think you’ll be getting the toilet shift again any time soon.”

“Idiot.” Xander sniffed. “What kind of shitty ass cop feels bad for making an inmate cry?”

He was lucky Ethan held massive, ridiculous amounts of favouritism towards him so he could literally say whatever he wanted, otherwise his impudence would have screwed him over multiple times by now.

Ethan merely shrugged. “A good one, actually. Now, why were you crying, hm? I know toilets aren’t enough to bring you to tears.”

Xander sniffled again. “You underestimate how gross they were, Collins.”

Ethan smiled wryly, but it quickly dropped off of his face. “Hey, what the fuck?”

Xander frowned. “What-?”

But Ethan seemed genuinely alarmed. “Are you bleeding?”

Xander squinted at him. “What? No. Of course not-” Ah. He registered the unfortunately familiar feeling of something slick between his thighs, and looked down to see yep, there was a massive red stain blooming on his crotch. That explained his awful temperament and random crying, then.

Oh, for fuck’s sake, he inwardly groaned. Ethan seemed to be… unreasonably panicked, however?

“Oh my God. Fucking hell, no wonder you were crying. I’m going to fucking kill Aaron- no. Not important right now.” He took a deep breath as if he was trying desperately to compose himself.

“Hey, Alex,” his tone softened remarkably there, and he carefully hovered a hand above Xander’s knee, not quite making contact.

“Do you think you can tell me who did this? I’ll fix it, okay? I promise. Then, we’ll just take you off to the nurse-”

Huh? Who did this? God, probably? What kind of question was that?

And that’s when he registered the genuine fear and concern in Ethan’s blue eyes, and remembered that Ethan didn’t know what he was. Oh. Ethan thought he’d been…

“I’m okay.” Xander said.

Ethan frowned. “Now’s really not the time to be tough, Alex-”

“No, Ethan.” Xander shook his head. “I wasn’t… like... That didn’t happen.”

Ethan blinked. “Wait, what?”

His frown deepened, more bemused than upset now. “Then what- oh.”

Xander saw the moment realisation dawned, like a light bulb clicking behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” he swallowed, feeling his face burn, because Ethan didn’t need to know this, no one did, “Oh.”

Confusion flitted across Ethan’s face. “But your… files say you’re biologically male.”

“Yeah.” Xander said, sucking his teeth. “I am. Legally.”

“Christ.” Ethan’s dark eyebrows scrunched together. “But surely during one of the mandatory health check-ups...”

“Sure,” Xander shrugged, hugging his knees to his chest again, “They’re probably aware, but...”

“But, what? Do they not give you anything?” Ethan’s voice raised a couple pitches with barely held-back frustration. “That’s inhumane.”

“Well,” Xander twirled a lock of greasy white hair around his finger, “I haven’t gotten my… uhm… period since I came here, so there was no need.”

“Well, then that’s a whole other issue!” Ethan protested. “They should have checked that out, then!”

Xander blinked, a little taken aback by Ethan’s annoyance. No, not annoyance. Anger. On his behalf. Huh.

Ethan huffed. “You know what? Nevermind. I’ll deal with that later. Just hit the showers, okay? I’ll get you stuff-”

Xander felt nerves start to bubble their way up his throat again. “I can’t.”

Ethan tilted his head to the side. “Why not?”

Xander felt humiliation burning in his face, hot and extremely visible because of how pale he was. “I just… you know. What if the other prisoners come in?”

Realisation dawned on Ethan’s face for the second time that day. “Oh.”

He sighed heavily and dragged a hand down his face. “Fucking hell, Alex. I’m sorry. We’ve totally failed you. I’ve totally failed you.”

Xander stared at him, mildly alarmed. “Uhm. What?”

Ethan shook his head. “I can’t believe I never questioned the fact your hair wasn’t properly washed… God, you’ve been here for over a year.” That made Xander’s face heat up again, but Ethan didn’t seem to notice.

“I was a total idiot. Forgive me. Now, come on.”

Xander squinted at him. “...Where?”

Ethan blinked. “Oh, right. My office. I have a shower in there.”

“You have an office at twenty-one?” Xander asked incredulously. “You have an office big enough to have a shower in it at twenty-one?”

Ethan shrugged modestly. “Yeah. It’s no big deal, really.”

His attempt at being humble left a sour sort of taste in Xander’s mouth. No big deal, his ass. What the fuck.

Ethan paused as they stood up, staring down at Xander’s soiled lower half. “Wait. Here. Cover yourself with this.”

Xander watched in muted horror as he took off his jacket and handed it to him like it was nothing.

“Are you nuts?”

Ethan squinted at him. “It’s hardly a big deal.”

“It kind of is!” Xander’s voice got embarrassingly high-pitched. “What if I get like- blood on it? Then what, huh?”

Ethan arched an eyebrow. “Then I’ll… wash it?”

Xander didn’t actually have a response to that one, so he just scowled at him to get his disapproval across. He was painfully aware of the fact it came out more like a pout than anything, judging from the amused little smile Ethan gave back to him.

“Sshhuttt up.” Xander hissed.

Well, he couldn’t argue with Ethan’s knowledge, so he wrapped the God-forsaken jacket around his waist, most reluctantly.

So, out they went, to sneak into Ethan’s office.

“There’s no way this is allowed, right?” Xander whispered.

Ethan flashed him a smile. “Not in the slightest. But Captain Neil favours me, so it’ll be fine.” He said brightly, unlocking the door to his office, and ushering Xander inside.

Xander paused, taking a moment to look around the room. It was… really nice, actually. Cushy. He caught a glimpse of framed photos of Ethan with two children he presumed were his nephew and niece.

And he really did have an en suite in his office. Nuts. Although Xander couldn’t really complain about favouritism at that moment, considering he was currently actively benefiting from it.

“So,” Ethan opened the door to the bathroom. It was small, barely larger than a closet, but it was still a bathroom in an office.

Ethan gave him a quick guide on how to use the shower. “Just leave your clothes outside, okay? I’ll get you new ones.”

Xander nodded mutely, growing steadily more embarrassed by the moment. “Mhm.”

Ethan paused on his way out, key already halfway in the lock. “Oh, and Alex?”

“Hm?”

“Take as long as you need. Seriously. You deserve it.”

Xander felt his face heat up even further. “Dumbass.” He muttered underneath his breath.

He was pretty sure he died and ascended the second he stepped underneath the stream from the shower. God. When was the last time he’d had hot water? It soothed his sore, aching muscles and he melted, leaning against the shower wall.

For the last thirteen months, he’d had cold, hasty, five-minute showers, sneaking in after the other inmates once they were finished. They had always been rushed and he’d be on edge the entire time, terrified someone would come in and see him.

Best case scenario, he’d get hate crimed for being a freak of nature.

Worst case scenario… well.

Even before he came to prison, his showers had always been short and ice-cold, courtesy of his father’s insistence. Apparently stuff like hot water and long showers weren’t “manly” or whatever.

Xander always knew, in a way, that the reason his father used to always push masculinity on him so much was because he was insecure about the fact that his son wasn’t necessarily biologically male. That his voice was softer, his eyelashes longer, his hips wider. He'd despised it, and had always made that abundantly clear.

Xander’s anatomy had always been a shameful secret, one that wasn’t supposed to be spoken of or acknowledged. He’d wondered if his father thought that if he pretended Xander was normal long and hard enough, it would come true.

It didn’t.

He glanced at the toiletries Ethan had in there. A bar of soap, although not the same as the harsh, chemical-smelling ones they had in prison. Score.

Shampoo, and was that a matching conditioner? He picked up the shampoo bottle to examine it. Cherry blossom and rice scented. The fuck did that mean? What did cherry blossoms and rice even smell like?

He popped open the lid and sniffed it warily. Oh. Nice was the answer. It smelt nice. Funny. He’d never even had conditioner before (another thing his father considered to be “feminine”), and the shampoo he used certainly wasn’t cherry blossom and rice scented, more like… Untamed Gorilla Ass or something like that.

Xander spent an egregiously long time in the shower, by far the longest one he’d had in his life. He’d washed his hair four times (four!) by the time he was finally satisfied that the grease was gone. He scrubbed his body so hard his pale skin flushed pink. Also, the conditioner was really nice (once he’d read the instructions on the back). It made his hair very silky.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so clean.

He stepped out of the shower, cautious not to skid on the slippery bathroom tiles, and wrapped himself up in the thick, fluffy towel Ethan had left him (so much nicer than the thin, coarse ones the inmates got) before he suddenly remembered he was now in a race against time to plug himself up before his body decided to unload his insides onto Ethan’s bathroom floor. He would have no choice but to die if that happened.

He cracked open the door of the en suite, and caught a glimpse of a plastic bag (rejoice) and a new jumpsuit. No Ethan in sight, thankfully. He grabbed the stuff and quickly stepped back into the bathroom.

There was a sticky note hanging on for dear life onto the bag. Ethan Collins had ridiculously nice handwriting. Seriously. It looked like a font. What kind of weirdo had handwriting like that?

Xander read it. Sorry, I didn’t know what you use, so I kind of just grabbed a bunch of whatever. Hope that’s okay. And also, other stuff. The note ended with a poorly-drawn smiley face that gave him a wonky thumbs up. Xander flat-out refused to find it cute.

Fine, it was a little bit cute.

He peered inside the bag. Oh, Ethan was not kidding when he said he had gotten a bunch of stuff. There were about three different types of pads in there and two different kinds of tampons.

How could Ethan just be so casual about this sort of thing, when he was a guy himself? When Xander was younger, his father insisted that “No son of his needed shit like that”, because Xander wasn’t a girl.

Problem was, Xander did need shit like that. Getting stuff for his period was kind of like a spy mission in a movie. His mother didn’t have a job, and therefore no money of her own, but she used to grab random notes she saw lying around and stuff them secretively into Xander’s pockets with a straight face.

It was kind of ridiculous, looking back on it. That they had to do all of that sneaking around.

Oh. There were also new boxers in there. Great. Not embarrassing in the slightest. His embarrassment then increased tenfold when he realised there weren't just boxers in there, but a bra, too.

His face burned up something awful. That bastard. How’d he know he needed one, anyway? Xander had always been able to mostly pass off his chest as muscle.

His annoyance only increased exponentially when he tried it on and it fit. That little freak. How the fuck did he know what Xander’s bra size was? Xander didn’t even know what his bra size was, he’d never even owned one.

(His mother had gotten him one in secret when he was thirteen, and when his father found out she’d gotten a slap across the face for her efforts. The bra was promptly burned, and Xander realised pretty quickly that he’d much rather have no chest support than go through that humiliation again, not to mention his mother potentially just getting more hurt from it.)

The bra, Xander realised begrudgingly, was actually really comfortable, even if he wasn’t used to the feeling of the underwire running across the top of his ribcage.

He got dressed pretty quickly, not fond of the idea of getting blood everywhere, but once he did, he realised the bag had other stuff in it he hadn’t noticed before.

Huh. Weird. He peeked inside and was greeted with… chocolate. A bag of hazelnut whirls.

Oh. Something weird and emotional and unwelcome welled up inside of his chest and burned the back of his eyes. No one had ever...

He slumped against the door, pressing the stupid bag of chocolates against his mouth.

“Fuck,” he exhaled quietly, gravity dragging his body down until he was seated on the bathroom tiles.

It took him an embarrassing amount of time to recollect himself, and when he had, he cracked open the door and, sure enough, Ethan Collins was there, leaning against the wall on the far side of the office.

The cop looked up. “Alright?”

“...Yeah.” Xander mumbled, hoping it wasn’t too obvious that he had been crying. Again. Judging from the way Ethan’s eyes softened slightly, it was.

Xander crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “How’d you know my… bra size, anyway?”

“Uhm.” Ethan smiled a little sheepishly. “Intuition?”

“What kind of intuition is that?” Xander huffed. “You can guess tit size? What do you even accomplish with that?”

“Getting you a bra that fits you?”

Fuck. He got him there. Xander puffed out his cheeks. “...Good comeback.” he admitted reluctantly.

Ethan looked annoyingly pleased with himself. “Thanks.”

Once they were back in his cell, Xander flopped onto the ground. His hair was wet and heavy and tangled and since there was so much of it, it felt like it was weighing him down like a ton of bricks.

Ethan offered him a wry smile. “Want me to help you with that?”

Xander arched an eyebrow at him. “Hm?”

“Your hair. Can I braid it?”

Xander blinked. “You… I’m not allowed hair ties.”

Ethan shrugged. “That’s fine. I can work without one.”

Xander didn’t like having his back to people. Not in the slightest. But it was… fine. Ethan was painstakingly careful, like he was trying his hardest not to pull.

It irritated Xander, in a way. He didn’t like being treated like he was made of glass. Was it because Ethan saw him as a woman now or something?

He frowned, turning around abruptly with no warning. Ethan’s eyebrows raised and he slowly released Xander’s hair.

“Hi?” It was phrased like a question.

Xander narrowed his eyes at him in his best glare. Ethan made the same expression in an extremely exaggerated way. Xander pressed his lips together firmly, deeply agitated at the fact Ethan was clearly trying to make him laugh, and even more agitated by the fact it was almost working.

“You don’t have to be so delicate. I won’t break. I’m not a woman, you know that right?”

Ethan cocked a dark eyebrow. “I’m aware, yeah.”

“So don’t treat me like I’ll shatter and start like- crying if you pull my hair!” Xander snapped.

Ethan sighed. “So, let me get this straight. You’re mad at me because I won’t pull your hair?”

…Well, when he said it like that it sounded stupid. “Yeah.” Xander decided to keep stubbornly bulldozing ahead. He would rather die than admit defeat.

“So you want me to pull your hair?”

“Yup.”

There was a long pause in which they just stared at each other with narrowed eyes and exaggerated glares, before Ethan yanked on the end of Xander’s braid. Not sharp enough to hurt, but strong enough that Xander startled and fell backwards into his chest.

“Oh, you asshole.” He seethed whilst Ethan laughed in his ear. He shoved him backwards, and Ethan went down easily, still laughing.

Xander scowled at him in that way he knew was unfortunately more of a disgruntled pout than anything, whilst Ethan cracked up on the ground.

“It’s not that funny.”

“It kind of is.” He wiped an actual tear of laughter (an actual tear, Xander thought that was a myth) from his eye. “Oh, my God.”

“Shut up.”

Ethan sat up again, lips still twitching. “You’re right. My bad.” He did not sound apologetic in the slightest.

Xander huffed. Ethan resumed braiding his hair.

Xander swallowed. “Hey,”

“Hm?”

“By the way, I’m not like… trans or anything. I’m… intersex or whatever.” The word came out painfully, sticking to the inside of his throat. It wasn’t a nice one. He would have preferred to not tell Ethan at all, but since the guy now had unnecessary information on his genitals (ugh), it might as well be the correct information.

Ethan was silent for a few moments. “You didn’t have to tell me that.”

Xander snorted humourlessly. “Didn’t have much of a choice, did I?”

“...I guess not.”

After a few more minutes of quiet, Xander sighed, shifting a bit. “...You know, when we were younger, Andrew used to let some of the neighbourhood kids pay him a dollar to hold me down and see what was in my pants.”

All the air left Ethan’s lungs in one sharp whoosh. “Jesus Christ, Alex.”

“It happened when we were like… tiny. It’s not that big of a deal.” Xander lied, even though it had been back then. As if his father didn’t already make him feel wrong enough, his own cousin let kids pay him to turn him into some sort of spectacle.

He used to run back home to his mother crying about it. It only got him in more trouble with his father. Boys weren’t supposed to cry.

“And you’re still… in touch with him?” Ethan said flatly. Not said like a question, but a statement.

Xander winced. God, why had he brought that up? He’d had no reason to, Ethan already disliked Andrew, he’d made that abundantly clear. He used to needle Xander about not letting him come around for visitation anymore, only relenting when Xander lost his temper.

Xander was certain there was something more personal fueling Ethan’s obvious dislike for Andrew, but he always denied it when he asked.

“He’s different now.” Xander protested weakly. “He didn’t know any better. That was just kids being kids.”

“That’s not kids being kids, Alex.” Ethan said bluntly. “That’s genuinely twisted, evil shit.”

“I mean, can you blame him?” Xander muttered. “I’m like a total freak of nature.”

“Well, that’s definitely not true.”

“It is, actually. There’s like, what? One percent of people like me?”

“One point seven,” Ethan mumbled.

Xander laughed humourlessly. “One point seven. That’s nothing, that’s-”

“That’s.” Ethan cut him off smoothly. “Still millions of people. You’re not as abnormal as you think, Alex.”

Xander swallowed thickly. “...Okay.”

Silence ensued for a few moments. Then, Ethan sighed heavily.

“I’m gay.”

Xander sat up a little straighter, caught off guard. “Oh.”

“Yeah. I’m not really open about it, so…” he trailed off slowly, voice quiet.

Xander nodded jerkily. “You, uhm. Wow. Why are you telling me this?”

“...Just. Since I kind of found out something personal about you without you wanting to, I figured I’d… tell you something personal about me? Tit for tat, y’know?”

Huh. That was… really nice, actually. Sweet. He could tell Ethan wasn’t delighted about telling him about it. So to do so he wouldn’t feel as alone…

“Thanks.”

“Don’t worry about it man.” Ethan sat back on his heels with finality. “Done.” He drew back a little.

Xander moved his head a little, the long, thick braid swinging behind him. It was loose, not tight or painful. If anything, it just seemed to serve the purpose of being pretty.

Xander didn’t hate it.

“Thanks.” He muttered reluctantly.

“Don’t sweat it.”

***

Xander sighed, rolling his permanently damaged shoulder with a grunt. Why had he woken up again? He rolled over and checked the time on his alarm clock.

Four in the morning. What a joke. He was going back to sleep.

He then had a terrible feeling, peeling back his sheets and… yup. There it was. The crime scene.

He groaned, loud and unrestrained. “Fuck me sideways.”

He got up with a genuinely sad amount of effort, bundling up his now-destroyed sheets in his arms. At least it was early enough that no one else would be awake yet. He could sneak down and wash everything. It would be fine.

It turned out, not everyone was asleep, because of course, of course, he bumped into Ethan fucking Collins in the hall. That insomniac motherfucker.

“Oh.” Ethan said. Oh? Oh? The fuck was he saying oh for? Xander existing in his own house?

“Why the hell are you awake at four o’ clock in the morning?” Xander hissed.

Ethan shrugged, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Couldn’t sleep. Why are you?”

“Why do you think?” Xander snapped, holding out his soiled sheets as an explanation.

“...Right.” Ethan said. “Do you need help with those?”

“What?” Xander recoiled away from him, scandalised.

“What?” Ethan stared at him like he was the crazy one. “It’s not that big of a deal. I used to do it for Madison all the time.”

“Yeah. Used to.” Xander said, which he realised wasn’t actually a good response in the slightest, nor did it make a lot of sense, once it came out of his mouth.

“Yeah.” Ethan said. “Used to. Because she started tracking her period so she knew when she’d get it? Do you not do that?”

Xander shifted a bit awkwardly. Ethan’s jaw dropped. “Do you still not get regular periods? Did you never get that checked out?”

“How do you even remember that I don’t!” Xander retorted, his cheeks flushing.

“I have a good memory! And that’s not the point, you should- ugh.” Ethan cut himself off with a sigh, pinching his nose bridge.

“Me lecturing you won’t change anything, will it.”

“No.”

“...Okay, then. Give me those. And go shower.” Ethan made a grabbing motion in the direction of the sheets.

“No.” Xander said stubbornly.

“Why?”

“Because!” Xander snapped. “It’s like… gross.”

Ethan rolled his eyes. “For fuck’s sake, it’s just blood.”

“Actually, it’s not.” Xander muttered. “There’s… other stuff in it, too.”

Ethan arched a dark eyebrow. “So?”

“So!” Xander gestured vaguely. “You shouldn’t… touch another person’s… fluids.” He finished lamely.

“I’ve cleaned up your vomit before,” Ethan said dryly, “I’ve touched plenty of your fluids.”

“Stop saying fluids!” Xander hissed, his face only heating up further. God, this was humiliating.

“You said it first-… whatever. Just let me deal with them, okay? Shower.”

Xander gnawed on his bottom lip. “I don’t need to shower.” He lied.

Ethan gave his formerly-white sweatpants a pointed look. “Uh huh.”

“Okay, fine.” Xander shoved the bloodied sheets into Ethan’s arms. “Fine, okay? I don’t even know why you insisted on it in the first place. Weirdo.” Then, he stormed back to his room.

He showered quickly (with hot water. He didn’t do that often, but he felt like he needed it in that moment), and when he stepped back into his room, towelling off his hair, he came to the delightful realisation that he didn’t have anything. No pads, tampons, nothing. There were no stores nearby that would be open at - he checked the time - quarter to five in the morning, anyway.

Fuck my life. He trudged reluctantly down the hall after shoving a wad of toilet paper inside his boxers as damage control, knocking reluctantly on Ethan’s door, because he knew that insomniac asshole would still be awake.

Surely enough, he opened the door. “Can I help you?”

Xander puffed out his cheeks. “I don’t have anything. Like… pads, tampons. Nothing. And you’re like, a half-decent uncle I guess, so I know you probably have stuff stashed for Madison in your room, so can I borrow some? I’ll pay you back.”

Ethan nodded. “One second.” He retreated back into his room and came back a few moments later with an armful of stuff.

“Thanks.” Xander muttered, taking them from him.

Ethan shrugged. “No problem.” His blue eyes scanned Xander’s face, probably registering the vaguely constipated expression he had right now.

“Cramps?”

“No.” Xander lied, barely resisting the urge to double over in agony. He hated this.

Ethan looked at him a bit doubtfully. “Really?”

“Yes, really. What makes you think that? How would you even know what cramps look like, anyways? You have balls, not a uterus.” Xander snapped.

They stared at each other for a few moments. “...Yeah, I have cramps.” Xander admitted sulkily.

Ethan let out a quiet breath that sounded almost like a quiet, short laugh. “Thought so.”

“Die.” Xander seethed.

“Madison has a heating pad,” Ethan offered, “I can get it for you.”

Xander scowled, only growing more offended at the offer. “Are you kidding? Absolutely not. I’m not weak, ex-cop. I don’t need your little heating pad.”

“Oh, so being in pain is a masculine trait now?” Ethan asked sarcastically. “For Christ’s sake, Alex, not wanting to be doubled over in pain with cramps doesn’t make you weak. You’re being ridiculous.”

Okay. So, he probably was. But Ethan didn’t get to point that out.

…But it also felt like his uterus had flipped inside out and was trying to eat his stomach, so. Maybe a heating pad was a nice idea.

“Fine. If you insist, I guess.”

Ethan rolled his eyes. “Right. I insist.” He said wryly. “Go back to bed.”

Xander sighed. “Can’t. I need to put new sheets on first.”

Ethan examined his cuticles. “You don’t need to. I already did.”

“What?” Xander hadn’t noticed that. “Why?”

Ethan shrugged. “Why not?”

Xander gritted his teeth, using his height to his advantage to loom over Ethan in a way he hoped was intimidating. “I don’t need you to look after me, ex-cop.”

Ethan did not look intimidated in the slightest, unfortunately, staring back up at him with a bored expression on his face. “Everyone needs someone to look after them sometimes. Now stop being such a stubborn ass and get back to bed. I’ll bring you up the heating pad.”

Xander went back reluctantly, curling up under the duvet. He wrapped his arms around himself protectively, feeling frustration bubble up in his chest. Frustration towards himself, his body, the stupid cramps that were literally killing him.

God, why was he still like this? Why couldn’t he just be fucking normal?

There was a soft knock on the door after a few minutes, once his eyes were just starting to feel a little heavy with sleep. He shook himself to wake up. “Come in.”

Ethan did, walking inside. He crouched down at the bedside. “Here you go.”

Xander stared at the heating pad. “It’s fucking pink?”

Ethan looked extremely exasperated. “Don’t tell me you have a problem with the colour pink now.”

“It’s a feminine colour!” Xander was vaguely aware of how childish he was being at that moment. He was a twenty-nine year old man, for Christ’s sake. He shouldn’t be getting so worked up over a colour.

Except he was. Maybe Ethan recognised that, because his exasperation softened a little. He cleared his throat.

“Actually. Did you know that originally pink was considered to be a masculine colour? It was a paler shade of red, so it was usually a colour worn by young boys.”

Xander blinked at him. “Fucking nerd.” He wasn’t sure what was more stupid, Ethan’s little fun fact, or the fact that he was actually sort of mollified by it.

Ethan nodded. “Yeah. That’s me. Here,” he handed Xander the heating pad.

“You put this under your shirt. On your lower stomach, see?”

Xander rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. Still don’t see how it’ll make much of a difference, though- ohhh, fuck me.” He exhaled, his eyes fluttering. God, that was nice.

Ethan smiled a little. “Feels good, right?”

Xander was pretty sure he melted. He couldn’t even bring himself to lie. “Mhm.”

Ethan’s smile widened, and if Xander didn’t know better, he would’ve said his expression was almost… affectionate. “Sleep, okay?”

“...Okay.”

Xander woke up a few hours later, stretching languidly. He peeked over at his alarm. 11 A.M. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept in that much.

Then, he noticed something else sitting on his bedside table. He looked a little closer, and then stopped.

A lump started to form in his throat.

A small bag of hazelnut whirls.

He exhaled shakily. “...Oh, you little fucker.”

And if he cried a little, that was no one’s business.