Archive of Our Own

“Now,” Ester smiles, twirling a lock of hair in her finger and revealing a stormy grey eye. “If you would please read over our terms.”

The man in front of her glares at the contract set in front of him. “I’m not reading that.”

Ester doesn't reply. Instead, she carefully tucks the loose piece of hair behind her ear. 

“I said I'm not reading this. Now go back to your boss and tell him to go fuck himself.”

“How unfortunate," she mutters, pulling a phone out of her skirt pocket. “I hate this kind of technology,” she mutters, presses a button and sets it back into her pocket. 

“I told you to leave,” the man shouts, slamming his hands on the desk. 

Ester sighs as screaming begins in the room behind her. 

“I don't think I will be,” she replies. 

The man shoots out of his seat and runs. 

He doesn't get very far before Ester pulls a book out of her waistcoat and opens it. 

The man vanishes in a flash of light. 

Ester snaps the book closed and heaves herself out of the chair. “If he sends me on another mission,” she grumbles, opening the door to the office, "I'll kill him.”

She looks up to see no one else in the room despite the screaming earlier. 

“Gilbert?” She calls. 

A young boy with shoulder-length red hair appears in the room with a large grin on his face. 

“Did you take care of them?” Ester asks. 

The boy nods and blows his hair from his face. “Anne took care of them when they didn't want to leave.”

Ester raises an eyebrow. “When are you going to cut your hair?”

Gilbert glares and clutches his hair in a fist. “When are you going to cut yours!” he retorts. 

Ester hisses. “My hair is just fine!”

“You can’t even see out of it!”

“At least I know how to put mine up!” Ester retorts. 

Gilbert huffs. “I tried,” he whines and stomps his foot. 

Ester sighs and waves him away. “A car will be out front for us and we should go. This bickering is only going to get us caught up in another fight.” 

Gilbert sticks his nose in the air but follows the woman as she leaves the building. 

When they reach the car a butler steps out of the front and opens the door for the two. 

Gilbert hops inside, scrambling to sit against the window.

He flinches when a hand abruptly grabs his hair. “What are-”

“I’m braiding your hair,” Ester replies.

Gilbert blinks. “Really?”

“It’ll get it out of your face. And you are right I do need a haircut,” she mutters pointing up at the large bun on her head. “Unfortunately having it up all the time is giving me headaches.”

Gilbert nods, jostling Ester from her work on his hair. “That sucks.”

“And you don't have to cut your hair if you don't want to.”

“Good, cause I don't.”

“Alright,” Ester says and continues to braid the boy's hair. 

• · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Gilbert kicks his feet under the table, receiving a glare from Nathaniel Hawthorne when he jostles the table too much. Gilbert huffs and tries to still his feet. Meetings with Fitzgerald are always boring. 

“Gilbert!”

The young boy snaps to attention. “Wha?”

Margaret Mitchell huffs. “Are you paying attention?”

“Uh, no?” he answers with a shrug 

Margaret scoffs and crosses her arms. “Ugh boys,” she mutters.

Gilbert wrinkles his nose and glares at her. 

Fitzgerald clears his throat. “It's quite alright Margaret. He meant no harm. Now Gilbert, as I was telling Ester, you two will be going on an undercover mission. You’ll be posing as a father and his daughter.”

Gilbert tilts his head. “Am I the daughter?”

“Yes, I know it may be uncomfortable but we all must make sacrifices. This was supposed to be a mission for Margaret and Herman but Herman is unable to go and I need Margaret elsewhere. Since you two fit around the age descriptions I need you’ll be going in their stead. I’m sure it’ll be much easier for you Ester,” Fitzgerald says with a grin. “You’re always wearing men's clothes anyway.”

Gilbert can’t see under her hair but he’s spent enough time with Ester to know that she’s rolling her eyes. 

“Of course sir,” she mutters.

Fitzgerald clears his throat and turns to Steinbeck. “Where’s Lovecraft?”

“Uh,” Steinbeck trails off, “he, went on a walk?”

Fitzgerald takes a deep breath and rubs the bridge of his nose. “Ester, please accompany Steinbeck in getting him back.”

“Yes sir.”

Gilbert watches her leave and looks at the floor. Fitzgerald continues to speak but Gilbert tunes him out.

He’s never worn a dress before, he wonders how it will feel. 

He wonders what color it’ll be. 

He wonders a lot of things. 

• · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Ester stares at herself in the mirror with wide eyes. She's used to wearing suits, prefers them actually. 

But this is different. 

For one her chest is bound and mostly flat. The pants are looser than she normally wears, so are the shirt and suit jacket. They hide most of her curves she's always been mostly indifferent to. 

She’s applied makeup to give the illusion of sharper cheekbones. Her hair is shorter from a recent haircut and slicked back.

She quickly leaves the room, abandoning the offending mirror. 

She knocks on the door across from hers. “Gilbert, are you well?”

No one replies. 

“Gilbert?” She calls again. 

Something falls inside the room and she can hear the young boy curse. 

The door opens slowly and Gilbert appears. He opens the door just enough for Estar to see his eyes and only his eyes.

“Do you need help?” Ester asks. 

Gilbert huffs. “No.”

“Really?”

Gilbert opens the door fully, the dress he’s supposed to be wearing is half hanging off of him as it's not buttoned properly. He’s somehow wearing the petticoat over the dress and he’s clipped the bow to his shoe. 

Ester sighs, the boy hasn’t ever had to dress himself before, he wore simple pants and shirts throughout his years at the orphanage and now that he lived with the guild servants would dress him. 

“Alright, then allow me,” Ester says, leaning down to pull the bow off of the boy's shoe. 

Soon after she has him straightened out. 

He wears a dark blue dress with a large bow covering his chest, with the petticoat no longer covering the skirt and tucked under, Ester can now see the large number of large gaudy bows on it. 

Speaking of bows, the bow that was on his shoe is now in his hair, resting on the back of his head between the two braids Ester has just finished creating. 

Gilbert leans forward and presses his hand against the mirror. “Is that me?”

“Of course.”

Gilbert blinks and does a small twirl, the skirt swishing as he does so. 

He smiles and feels the bows that are scattered across the skirt. 

“We can get another dress if it's too much,” Ester says, trying to hide her grimace about the dress. 

“No,” Gilbert nearly shouts. He blinks and lowers his head. “Um no, I like it.”

“Alright,” Ester says and takes a step back. “Then can I add some makeup?”

“Alright,” Gilbert says and allows himself to be guided to a chair. 

“Now close your eyes,” Ester says.

Gilbert follows her instructions. “I’m only going to add lipstick and a little eye makeup. You’re still young so that's all that will be expected of you.” She uncaps a vial of lipstick. “You might feel a tickle.”

Gilbert giggles and twitches away. Ester grabs his face with a laugh. “Hold still,” she whispers.

Gilbert manages to be still for the rest, only getting scolded once more when he tries to chew his lip. 

“Now your eyes. Ah,” Ester taps Gilbert's nose as he tries to open his eyes, “keep them closed.”

Ester gently applies some eye shadow and laughs softly as Gilbert wiggles. 

A few minutes later Ester pulls away. “Alright I'm finished, you can open your eyes.”

Gilbert blinks, his eyelashes feel heavier. He turns and faces himself in the mirror. 

His eyes go wide. The eye shadow is a soft pink, almost unnoticeable, and his eyelashes are longer than before and now black. His lips are painted in a similar pink to his eyes. 

He stares at himself, and his reflection stares back at the person who sits in a dark blue dress. 

Ester frowns and reaches forward to poke the boy on the shoulder. 

Gilbert turns away from his reflection and stares at the ground. 

“We should get names,” she whispers.

Gilbert looks up at her. “Can I be Lucy?”

“Lucy?” 

“Yes,” Lucy looks at himself in the mirror. “I like that name.”

Ester blinks. “More than Gilbert?”

“I think so. That name has always seemed so pretty. I knew a girl who had a doll named Lucy. Maybe I can try being Lucy, just for now?”

“That's just fine, Lucy is a beautiful name,” Ester says, running her fingers through their hair. 

“Do you also want a name?”

Ester blinks and looks at herself in the mirror. “I,” they take a deep breath, "I believe Edgar would be a good name for me.”

“Can I call you Ed? Or Eddie?”

“Yes,” they whisper and poke at the redheads' braids. “Do you wish to remain Lucy after the mission ends?"

Lucy nods. She twiddles her fingers. “I think I do? What about you?”

“I don’t know. But I believe I will find out. For now, I shall be Edgar.”

Lucy smiles and smiles at the mirror. “I look really pretty!”

“Of course you do. What about me?”

“Very handsome." 

“Thank you Lucy," Edgar says. 

Lucy grins up at him. “Of course Edgar!”