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Ethan had no idea that this bathroom even existed. He’d missed it on the floor plan of the hotel. Benji had pulled him in at the last second and they waited with bated breath as they heard their pursuers ran past. Once the sound of footsteps had receded down the hallway, Ethan pulled at his collar, “Jesus, it’s hot in here.”
Benji frowned, “Yeah, it is a bit.”
Hot was an understatement. The bathroom was filled with a suffocating kind of dry heat, making the already small space feel even more claustrophobic. Ethan leaned his head against the wall and breathed deeply, still slightly out of breath from all the running. The dress shirt he was wearing clung, sweaty, to his back and he shifted uncomfortably, the heat of the bathroom only making everything worse. He knew they’d have to stay hidden in here for a while, so he resigned himself to the annoyance. He looked down at Benji, who he was surprised to find crouched, and rummaging through his backpack.
“Benji, what are you looking for?”
“I’ve got a change of clothes for you somewhere in here,” Benji muttered, “God, it’s like I’m Mary bloody Poppins with this bag.”
Ethan shook his head, a smile creeping onto his face, “Don’t worry about it, Benji.”
Benji looked up, “You’re uncomfortable, I can tell.”
Ethan opened his mouth, but Benji got there first, “Ah- Before you say anything. We’re going to be waiting here ages, there’s no reason for you to stay in those clothes when I have spares.”
“Benji, I—”
“Aha!” Benji crowed triumphantly, pulling a black roll of clothing from his back, “Found it.”
Ethan took the clothes from his outstretched hand, “Thanks, Benji. What would I do without you?”
“Sit around in uncomfortably sweaty clothing, I imagine.”
Ethan moved around the corner, where he found a pair of sinks, grubby mirrors standing above them. He peered into one of the cubicles, finding it to be tiny. Upon closer inspection, he found that it had a mysterious liquid on the floor, that he’d rather not step on. He decided that he’d be better off changing outside, in front of the sinks. Benji’s view would only partially be blocked by the corner, but Ethan was sure the other man wouldn’t mind.
Ethan unbuttoned the shirt, shrugging it to the floor and tossing it to the side. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t be wearing it again. He reached out to grab the fresh t-shirt, which he’d left on the counter, and froze as he caught sight of his reflection. He looked short, too short and the dimensions of his body just weren't right. He looked wider and it accentuated all the parts of his body that used to feel so wrong. His hips were too wide and his ass wasn't flat enough and - Ethan’s vision blurred. He couldn't even look at his chest.
As all the feelings of wrong, wrong, wrong came flooding back, Ethan could feel nausea rising inside of him. He fought it, trying to tear his eyes away from his reflection in the vague hope that it would make him feel better, but he felt stuck. The image of his worst insecurities had caught him by surprise and had become imprinted in his mind.
Benji watched as Ethan froze, shirtless, seemingly staring at his own reflection. Then he noticed the other man beginning to tremble. And then, all of sudden, Ethan Hunt was lunging into a bathroom cubicle and throwing up. For a moment, Benji was shocked into stillness. He’d never seen Ethan sick before. Hell, he didn’t even think Ethan could get sick like that. And worst of all, just moments ago, Ethan had seemed fine. Had he just been disguising how bad he felt, so Benji wouldn’t worry?
Finally, Benji managed to get out of his own head, and he approached the cubicle, where Ethan was clutching the toilet seat. The cubicle was cramped for two people, but Benji managed. Ethan was shaking and sweating and Benji frowned as he realised that the other man wasn’t retching, but gasping. Benji reached out a hand, maybe to rub Ethan’s back, or just to offer some tactile comfort. Ethan flinched away from Benji’s touch. Silent tears rolled down his face. His breathing was still far too unsteady for Benji’s liking. He seemed to be panicking more than anything and that made Benji sad. Sad that Ethan was struggling, sad that Benji hadn’t noticed before it was too late.
“Ethan,” Benji tried, softly, “Ethan, can you hear me?”
Ethan nodded jerkily. “Benji,” he gasped.
“Yeah, Benji,” he kept his voice soft, “Let’s get you out of this cubicle, yeah?”
Through some miracle, Ethan managed to follow Benji, eyes stubbornly focused on the floor. Benji still couldn't figure out what was bothering him so much about his reflection. Ethan's back hit the wall and he slid down into a sitting position. He still wasn't breathing right.
Benji knelt down in front of him, “Ethan, can you take some deep breaths for me?”
Ethan whined, shaking his head. Even that sounded painful.
Benji knew it wasn’t usually that easy, but he still thought he’d ask.
Benji, slowly, carefully, reached out to take Ethan’s hand. This time, Ethan didn’t flinch away from his touch. His eyes were wide and watery, but they looked more distant than they had earlier, like he wasn’t really there. Benji could still hear the too-fast wheeze of his breath, as he placed Ethan’s hand on his own chest. Benji modelled deep breathing as best he could, holding Ethan’s hand close to his chest. In for four, out for four. Ethan’s breath stuttered, his chest spasming, before it settled into a slower, safer rhythm.
"So—," Ethan's breath huffed, “So-sorry. 'M Sorry.”
Benji squeezed his hand, “Don't apologise. I was worried.”
Ethan blinked sluggishly, “Sorry.”
Benji smiled fondly, “What did I just say?” Benji watched as the rise and fall of Ethan's chest quickened again.
“Uhhh—”
“It's okay, you don't have to say anything — if it's too hard.”
Ethan’s head drooped. He took several more deep breaths while he stared at the floor. After a while, he attempted to speak again. “I am sorry that I worried you,” he said slowly. It seemed like speaking those few words were causing him a lot of effort. Maybe it was. “But, I’m fine.”
Benji tilted his head, “Are you?”
“I will be.”
“That’s not the same as being fine right now.”
Ethan blinked slowly again, still staring at the ground. Benji wasn’t sure if he didn’t know what to say, or if whatever he wanted to say, he couldn’t say it.
They sat in silence for a while, surrounded by the stuffy heat of the too-warm bathroom. Ethan’s breathing had grown a lot deeper and steadier, but there was a distant look in his eyes. Whatever had spooked him earlier, was clearly still bothering him. Benji felt, as he often did around Ethan, that he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. They couldn’t really risk leaving the bathroom with Ethan in this state, but Benji didn’t particularly like the idea of staying at the scene of the crime for much longer.
“Ethan,” Benji attempted, “Will you tell me what happened?”
“I don’t—” Ethan’s breath hitched. His mouth moved without making any sound, “I’m not— It’s complicated.”
“I’d like for you to tell me,” said Benji slowly, carefully, “But only if you feel comfortable.”
“I—” Ethan’s voice wobbled, “You can’t hate me, though. Please don’t hate me.”
Benji’s mouth hung open in surprise, “Ethan, how could I hate you?”
Ethan was teary-eyed, “Just please promise not to hate me.”
“Okay,” said Benji, unnerved, “I promise.”
“I'm transgender, ” Ethan bit his lip, “Do you know what that means?”
Benji nodded, “I think I have an idea. Will you tell me what it means for you?”
Ethan was shaking. Benji wasn’t sure he’d ever seen him so scared. “I was born in a girl’s body. But I’m a man. I know I am. I’ve had surgeries—” Ethan gestured to his chest, where Benji could see pale, symmetrical, almost-faded, silvery scars, “—and I take hormones. No one ever knows. No one ever has to know. But sometimes—” Ethan stopped abruptly. Benji gave his hand an encouraging squeeze. Ethan sniffled and Benji realised that he was trying very hard not to cry.
Benji let Ethan breathe through it, holding his hand.
“Sorry,” Ethan mumbled.
“Ethan…”
“I am though.”
“You don’t need to be. You shouldn’t have to be.”
“This is pathetic,” Ethan spat derisively.
“It’s human,” Benji reminded him, gently, “I know you tend to forget that you’re allowed to be a real person with real human emotions, but you are.”
Ethan leaned his head back against the wall, eyes closed. When he spoke again, he just sounded exhausted, “But it’s so fucking pathetic that an IMF field agent gets taken down by a mirror that makes his reflection look a little weird.”
“Oh,” said Benji, softly, “Is that what it was?”
Ethan bit his lip, nodded, “Those mirrors made me look so wrong. I started seeing all the problems I had with my body before I transitioned. It’s this feeling of disgust in my own skin that I don’t know how to describe. And it’s so rare now, it just took me completely by surprise. I wasn’t prepared for it at all.”
“That sounds hard,” Benji said awkwardly. He had no idea what to say and felt a little bit useless.
“It is.”
Finally, Benji reached up to the counter, where Ethan’s clean shirt had been lying through this whole thing and handed it to him. Ethan smiled, “Thanks, Benji.” He pulled the shirt on in one clean motion, muscles rippling. Then he grinned at Benji, “All that for a change of clothes. How dramatic.”
Benji shrugged, “We all need to be a little dramatic sometimes,” he paused, “Wanna get ice cream?”
Ethan blinked, “What?”
“Ethan, I don’t care that you’re trans. But I do care about you. I care that your upset. I want to distract you from your brain. Do you like ice cream?” Benji was probably rambling again. Whoops.
“I like sorbet.”
Benji held out his hand to Ethan, “Let’s get sorbet.”
Ethan took his hand, and followed him out of the too-warm bathroom.