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“Fuck.”
Jonny and Tim stumbled back on to the Aurora after a particularly bloody encounter with the cops. Tim had gotten shot at least once, now his elaborate outfit was ruined.
“Why’d you pull out your gun, now I’m gonna have to throw all this out,” Tim grumbled, beginning to pull off his bloodstained coat.
“The hell? Don’t waste perfectly good clothes over a little blood.”
“They aren’t ‘perfectly good’ Jonny, they’re drenched in blood!” He shook his jacket at Jonny, and the excess blood began to drip on the ground at his feet.
“Oh fuck off, just bleach em’, I’m sure we’ve got some ‘round here.”
“Bleach isn’t gonna get all this out, and it’s gonna ruin the color!” Tim whined, throwing his head back and running his hands through his long hair, sticky with blood.
“Then stop whining and go wash em! Before it sets in!”
“Wash them? That’s not gonna get the blood out, idiot!”
Jonny sighed and rested his hand on his forehead. “You gotta put vinegar or baking soda on it and rinse it with cold water before it dries,” he exhaled, as if it was common sense.
“Fuck, how do you even know that?” Tim stared at him, but Jonny didn’t seem to notice.
“So I can get blood out of my clothes, dumbarse.”
“Yeah,” Tim replied, “But you never seem to care about blood on your clothes anyway.”
“Well yeah, not anymore,” Jonny stated as he started to walk further into the Aurora, towards his quarters.
“When have you ever cared about blood on your clothes?”
“...Doesn’t matter. Why are you still here? I thought you had blood to wash out,” Jonny glanced over his shoulder, seeing Tim trail after him like a lost puppy, then turned on his heel and began to walk away.
“Hey!” Tim shouted, “You can’t just leave me like that!” The gunner caught up to Jonny, grabbing the shorter man's shoulder and spinning him around to face him.
“It’s not a big deal, Tim,” He muttered, trying to wrench himself out of Tim’s grasp. “Now, come on, let me go.”
“You’re being weird, and I’m not leaving ‘til I find out why,” Tim demanded, putting both of his hands on Jonny’s shoulders, so that the two men were face to face.
Instead of pulling out his pistol and blowing the taller man’s head off, the way Tim thought he would, Jonny just sighed. “Fine. Y’wanna know why I know how to get blood out of clothing?” Tim nodded eagerly, and Jonny let out another breath. “‘Cuz it can be awkward walking around with blood on your pants, and I was gettin’ tired of throwing them out every month.”
“The fuck kinda answer is that?” Tim responded, looking at Jonny with an eyebrow raised questioningly.
“God dammit, you’re so fucking dense,” Jonny mumbled, “You’re really gonna make me say it?”
“Say what? It’s not my fault you’re being so cagey,” Tim shot back.
“Fine!” Jonny took another breath in, and Tim really thought he was going to be killed this time. But the captain first mate sighed, looked at his dusty boots, and told him, “I have a uterus.”
“Sooo…you’re trans?” Tim inquired, tilting his head. “You know I don’t have a problem with that, but what’s that got to do with blood on your clothes?”
“Stars! You’re so fucking stupid Tim!” Jonny raised his hands in exasperation, pulling away from Tim’s grasp.
“Yes, I’m trans Tim, I have a uterus,” Jonny huffed, “And that also means I have, well, used to have, a period.”
“A period?” Tim still had that clueless look on his face, and Jonny sighed.
“A menstrual cycle. Where I, y’know, bleed.”
“Oh. Oh shit. I kinda forgot those existed actually.”
“Cool. Now will you let me go? I have actual things I need to do, instead of educating your dumbarse."
“Like what?” Tim replied, “Pretend to be captain?”
“Oh shut up,” Jonny countered. “That’s insubordination, I could kill you for that!”
Tim chuckled and patted the shorter man on the shoulder. “Yeah, sure.”