Archive of Our Own

‘Are you kidding me?’

Rouge’s ears pricked up, and she turned to look behind her. She was sitting on the floor of her bedroom in her apartment above Club Rouge. She was sorting through piles of clothes and accessories. Her tank top was falling off one shoulder, and her fur was still wet from the shower. She hadn’t even had time to put on makeup. Shadow had shown up a while ago with no warning and thrown himself headlong onto her bed. It had become a habit of his… to appear out of thin air and make himself at home. He seemed to want her company more often than he had in the past, and she didn’t mind his. It was a good arrangement.

He was lying on his front, and he’d picked up a pair of stiletto heels with straps that went up to the knees. He was idly kicking his feet behind him.

Rouge arched one eyebrow and grinned at him. ‘What?’

‘Don’t tell me you can actually walk in these.’

‘I wear heels all the time, hon. I can walk in them just fine.’

‘Hmph. Ridiculous.’

Rouge turned back to her clothes, but she glanced back a moment later. He was still holding the shoes, and he had a conflicted look on his face. She tipped her head to one side, weighing him up. Then she shrugged, spreading her hands elegantly. ‘Don’t feel bad, sweetheart. It’s not like you can be good at everything.’

His fur bristled, and she caught a glimpse of his fangs. ‘Who says?’

‘Alright, fine! Prove me wrong!’

Shadow did a double-take and looked down at the shoes in his hands. He stiffened. Then he reached down and loosened his shoes, letting them fall to the floor with heavy thuds. His inhibitor rings remained on his ankles, and he slipped one foot into one of her shoes, holding the straps in one hand.

Rouge’s eyes widened. She thought she’d try using a little reverse psychology on him, but she hadn’t thought it would actually work. He hated frivolity in all its forms, and that included fashion – yet here he was, putting on her shoes. She shifted to kneel beside him and took the straps from him, deftly weaving them through his inhibitor ring and around his calf.

He sat in silence, watching her. She couldn’t help but wonder what was going through his head. He tolerated her teasing, but he normally didn’t act on her suggestions. She looked up at him. He was watching her hands as she criss-crossed the straps.

‘…Shadow? Are you okay?’

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

‘You’ve got that look in your eyes again.’ She folded her arms on his lap, searching his eyes for answers. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Nothing.’ He attempted to get up, but she placed a hand on his knee, stopping him.

‘Hang on, sweetheart. You’ll break a leg at this rate. Let me do the other one first.’

He grudgingly sank back onto the bed, waiting until she’d fastened the straps of the second shoe. Then he abruptly stood up and took a step forward.

‘Wait!’

The heel of his shoe sank into the carpet, and he lost his balance. Rouge grabbed him by the hips, but he was moving too quickly, and he dragged her with him. They both toppled onto a pile of clothes.

Rouge laughed and rolled over to face him. He seemed stunned, and he stared at the ceiling as though it had personally offended him. ‘I could have given you a few pointers if you’d just waited for one minute,’ she said.

‘Hmph.’ He turned onto his side, facing her. The heels of his shoes left soft scuff marks on the carpet. ‘I nearly snapped my ankle. I don’t understand why you would risk wearing something like this.’

‘To look hot. Why else?’ She sprang to her feet and offered him her hand. ‘Come on. Up and at ‘em.’

Shadow grasped her hand and allowed her to pull him upright. She steadied him, holding his hands tightly. The shoes gave him several extra inches, putting him at her height, if not a little taller. He looked like a wobbly, newborn fawn. He looked… vulnerable.

‘Well?’ She stepped back, still holding his hands. ‘What do you think?’

‘What do I think?’ He took a careful step forward, stepping in front of the freestanding mirror in the corner. His grip loosened, and his hands fell back to his sides. His fur shone dully beneath the latticework of straps, and his inhibitor rings glimmered. ‘I…’ He took another step forward and pressed his hand to the mirror. In another lifetime, he had probably pressed his palms against the glass of a containment capsule, staring in horror at the girl on the other side. Now the only person looking back at him was himself.

Rouge padded closer and placed a hand on his waist. His figure was boxy and lean, but in this light, his waist had a faint curve. ‘Come on, love. Talk to me.’

He made a frustrated sound and took a step in the other direction. His movements were awkward and uncertain, like a child learning how to walk. ‘Every time I learn more about my past, it feels like I’m just learning about more choices that were taken away from me.’ He picked his way through the debris and came to a stop, staring down at the contents of her drawers. ‘GUN just found more classified documents about Project Shadow in an abandoned laboratory. I knew most of the information already, but…’ He wrapped his arms around his own waist, as though hugging himself. ‘There were some notes about my creation. GUN and the scientists who created me decided that I should be male so that I could be a physically stronger weapon.’

‘What?’ Rouge sank onto the bed, staring at him. ‘But your abilities don’t correlate to physical strength–‘

‘I know!’ Shadow snapped. When he saw her flinch, his eyes widened, and he held up a hand in apology. ’I-I know. But they wanted me to be a soldier, and it was the 50s.’ His expression tightened, and pain filled his eyes. ‘I know this is a choice that I couldn’t have made in the first place, but why did everyone else have to make all of these choices for me?’ He began to pace, and his tail lashed angrily. ‘My memories, my knowledge, my sex… I’ve never had a say in any of it. Couldn’t they have left a single thing up to chance–’

He tripped suddenly, slamming one hand down on her dressing table to keep his balance. Several tubes of lipstick and mascara fell to the floor and rolled across the carpet.

‘Hey.’ Rouge got up and joined him, placing a hand on his waist again. ‘I’m so sorry, love.’ She looked down at his shoes. ‘… Do you want to try on anything else?’

‘What?’

She gave him a teasing smile. ‘Those look good on you. I think I’ve got some other things you might like –‘

He grimaced and said, ‘I just wanted to prove a point. That’s all.’

‘Don’t give me that. You’ve worn the same shoes for over half a century, and you never take them off. You can’t tell me that you did this on a mere whim… not after everything you just said.’

Shadow fell silent. He crossed his arms, tapping one finger against his upper arm as he hesitated. ‘…I just wanted to know what it would feel like.’ He sounded lost, and it made something in her chest twist.

Rouge turned away and leaned down, rummaging through a pile of clothes from a chest of drawers. She pulled out a pair of high-waisted black denim shorts and held them up. She gave him a hopeful look.

Shadow heaved a sigh. ‘Rouge.’

‘With a waist like that, it’s a crime that you don’t wear clothes. Come on,’ she pleaded. ‘It’ll be fun, I promise.’

His ears pricked up slightly, and he lowered his gaze to the garment in her hands. He hesitated. ‘Fun’ wasn’t a criterion that he normally used to make his decisions, but she had very little else to work with. Then he gave her a reluctant nod. ‘Fine. I’ll be your dress-up doll.’

‘No, you won’t. You can choose what you want to wear.’ She gestured for him to sit on the bed and gave him a half-smile. ‘But I thought you’d like these.’

His eyes softened slightly, and he sat down. ‘They’re all right.’

‘They’re 60 dollars, so you better not rip them.’ She slipped them on over his shoes, then motioned for him to stand.

’60 dollars?’ He stood up again, saying, ‘What are they made out of–’ She pulled the shorts up over his hips, and he abruptly cut himself off.

When she looked up, she saw that he looked uneasy. On second glance, he seemed to be holding his breath. She realised that her hands were resting on either side of the open zipper. She quietly fastened the zip and the button above it, taking care not to touch him more than he had to. She often touched him as a way of flirting, and he usually tolerated it… but she could tell that this wouldn’t be the case this time.

She stepped back and smiled. ‘Well?’

Shadow looked down, and his tail twitched. ‘Why are they so short?’

‘To show off your legs.’

He reddened and rested his hands on his hips, attempting to hook his thumbs into the pockets, only to lift his hands again a moment later. ‘…Why can’t I use the pockets?’

‘They’re women’s shorts. Women’s clothing doesn’t have functional pockets. They’re just decorative.’

‘That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.’ His brow creased, and he said, ‘Aren’t there just… normal shorts? Not men’s or women’s?’

‘Not really. That’s not how the fashion industry works.’

‘Hmph.’

He turned and took several cautious steps, only to be stopped by the sight of himself in the mirror. He didn’t move, and the silence stretched out.

‘Penny for your thoughts?’

‘… It feels strange.’

‘Well, you rarely wear clothes. I wouldn’t expect it to feel natural.’

‘It’s not that, it’s…’ He looked down at himself, and when he spoke, his voice was softer, devoid of its usual harshness. ‘Why does it feel like I have butterflies?’

Rouge raised her eyebrows and batted her lashes at him in the mirror’s reflection. ‘Because I’m making bedroom eyes at you, perhaps?’

He scoffed, but she had a feeling that he wasn’t fully listening. ‘Is it meant to feel like this?’

‘It’s not “meant” to feel like anything.’ She picked up a tube of mascara and tapped him on the hip with it. ‘Those are quite fitted, you know. The physical pressure might be triggering your nervous system.’

‘Hm.’

‘If you don’t like it, you can always take them off.’

‘It’s not bad, it’s just… different.’ He gingerly turned back towards her.

‘You could always wear them unzipped.’

‘I beg your finest pardon?’

‘Some people do it–’

‘And I’m not one of them.’ Shadow stood beside her, leaning against the frame of her bed, and he gave her a wry smile. ‘Well?’

‘Hm.’ Rouge leaned forward, scanning the sprawling contents of her wardrobe. Then she picked up a black silk blouse and held it up to him. ‘I think this will look nice.’

‘…We’ll see.’ As she helped him put his arms through the sleeves, he said, ‘I’m surprised that you have shirts like this. They’re plainer than what you normally wear.’

‘It’s a blouse, not a shirt.’

‘What’s the difference?’

She gave him an affectionate pat on the shoulder and began to do up the buttons. ‘One has more room in the chest. Not that you’ll need it.’ But as she worked, she bit back a smile. ‘On second thought, maybe you will.’

It turned out that the soft white fur on his chest wouldn’t lie flat on its own. Between that and the cut of the blouse, he suddenly looked like he had a figure he didn’t actually have.

Shadow froze. ‘Um.’

‘What’s the matter?’

‘It’s a little…’ He cleared his throat and loosened the topmost button. ‘Ahem.’

Rouge leaned over and pulled open her drawer unit. ‘If you want that fur to lie flat, I’ve got several things that might help —‘

Shadow caught sight of the lingerie inside and hastily slammed the drawer shut. ‘That’s quite all right, thank you.’ The silk that clad his torso gleamed in the mirror, catching his eye. He let go of the drawer unit and stood awkwardly, staring at his reflection.

She couldn’t begin to imagine what it must feel like. To glimpse a future – a body – that could have been, and to wrestle with stereotypes and gender roles that he might not even be fully aware of in the first place.

‘I wonder if it would have been easier.’ Shadow murmured. ‘Being born differently, that is.’ He leaned against the mirror, gazing at the carpet. ‘There was this old comic that Maria liked. It was about a princess knight who had a girl’s heart and a boy’s heart. It helped me begin to make sense of the fact that I had been given Maria’s heart by my creators.’ His shoulders slumped, and he said, ‘I wonder if I would have had an easier time of it if there weren’t such a big disconnect between her heart and my body and mind.’

Rouge leaned forward and took his hands, leading him to sit with her on the bed. ‘I don’t think so, darling. Women aren’t inherently kinder,’ she said with a bitter smile. ‘It’s just a myth.’ She placed one hand on his back and rubbed it. The silk felt like cool mist beneath her fingers. ‘You would have had a far harder time of it if you were born a woman, and I think your life is already hard enough as it is.’

His ears drooped, and he rested one hand on his waist, toying with the silver buttons on his shorts. ‘I just… I get tired of my body sometimes. I wish I didn’t have to wear these rings. I wish my powers didn’t cause me to have chronic pain. I wish things were different somehow…’ He gazed at the feminine clothing scattered across the floor, and he drew his knees up to his chest, hugging his legs. ‘And this is one of the only kinds of “different” I could imagine.’

Rouge placed an arm around him, bringing his head to rest on her shoulder. ‘Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry.’ She took a deep breath and placed a hand on his chest, above his heart. ‘There’s different kinds of “different”, you know. Even if you can’t change your body or leave it behind, there are still things you can do. You can treat yourself well. You can take pride in your appearance. You can love yourself.’

‘You make it sound so easy,’ Shadow murmured.

‘Well, it is.‘ She gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. ‘…You’re beautiful, you know that?’

His face reddened, and he shifted uncomfortably.

‘What? I’ve called you beautiful before.’

‘This isn’t the same, and you know it.’

‘Well, what would you prefer?’ Rouge watched his face to gauge his reaction. ‘Handsome? Gorgeous? Stunning?’ She grinned and said, ‘I quite like ‘stunning’. It reminds me of those tabloid articles.’ She gestured with one hand, underlining an imaginary headline. ‘“Shadow the Hedgehog stuns for 64th birthday.”’

That finally got him to crack a smile, and he said, “I’m not that old.”

‘I hate to break it to you, but you actually are. You’re a silver fox. You just don’t look like it.’ She traced the red markings on his quills and the edges of his eyes with her thumb. ‘I bet you’d look pretty in grey.’

‘Pretty what?’

‘…Just that. Pretty.’

His face reddened, and he turned away. ‘You don’t need to compliment me just to make me feel better.’

‘I’m not, though. Do you think I’m lying?’

‘I think you’re being nicer than you have to be.’ He got off the bed, lifted one hand to his chest, and unfastened several shirt buttons, disrupting the silhouette that the shirt had created and breaking the illusion.

She glanced at his waist and stood, saying, ‘That shirt would probably look even better tucked in.’

‘Tucked in?’

‘Yeah.’ She placed her hands on his waist and looked up at him. It felt odd. She was so used to him being shorter than her, and she’d come to take it for granted. He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t take her up on her suggestion. After a moment, she slipped her hands into his waistband, tucking away the excess fabric.

‘What on earth are you making that face for?’ Shadow asked. ‘It’s not like you haven’t done this before.’

‘Done what?’ Rouge asked, trying not to focus on the fact that her fingers were navigating the topography of his torso.

‘Putting your hands down my pants.’

Rouge coughed and nearly choked. ‘I was trying to be normal about it!’

‘Why?’

His frankness took her aback, and her cheeks burned. ‘I-I don’t know. You seemed bothered. I didn’t think you’d be in the mood for my usual nonsense.’

‘And I didn’t think you’d like me like this.’ Shadow averted his eyes. ‘Not that I’ve had time to give it much thought.’

Rouge’s grip slackened. Then she stood on tiptoe and took him in her arms, kissing him firmly. One hand found its place above his denim shorts, cradling his lower back, and the other slipped beneath his half-open shirt, resting on his chest. ‘Don’t be absurd.’

‘I’m not.’ She felt his muscles tense beneath her palm. ‘If you like me as I am now… then what happens if I don’t stay the same?’

‘What does “now” mean?’

‘I don’t know.’ He grimaced and attempted to shove his hands in his pockets again, to no avail. ‘… Masculine, I guess.’

‘Well, I love you. I don’t care what that looks like. And I don’t care what you look like, for that matter.’

He didn’t respond, and she turned away, picking up a tube of lipstick from the dressing table, examining it. He probably needed some space. He probably needed some time to think, too—

Suddenly, he hugged her from behind and pulled her backwards. She yelped, and they both landed on a nearby pile of clothes. Before she could even protest, he had wrapped his arms around her, and she could feel his heart beating against her back, along with hard buttons and denim belt loops. He buried his face in her neck and kissed her. He made a faint sound, a mix of frustration, affection, and longing.

Rouge turned in his arms and held his waist, encircling it with both hands, and rubbed her face against his cheek. She could feel the straps of his shoes pressing against her leg.

He gave her a fond look. ‘… Those butterflies aren’t going away for some reason. I can’t imagine why.’

‘Well…’ Rouge lowered her hands from his waist to his front, unfastening the silver button on his shorts. His lips twitched, and he made no attempt to stop her. She grasped the zipper pull between thumb and forefinger and pulled gently, parting the zip one notch at a time. ‘Maybe this will help ease the “pressure” a little.’

He watched her in silence, and his face flushed with colour. Before she even made it halfway, he grasped her waist and pushed her down, smothering her with kisses.

Rouge laughed and tangled her fingers in his belt loops, tugging his body closer to hers. ‘You’re making me want to take these clothes off, gorgeous…’

‘I thought we decided on “stunning”?’

‘It doesn’t roll off the tongue quite as well.’

A faint laugh rumbled in his chest, and he leaned over her. His eyes held a warm light, and his shirt was falling open, revealing the sharp definition of his muscles and the curves of his waist. ‘Thank you.’

‘For what?’

‘It’s nice to be wanted. It’s nice to be able to admit something without being torn down for it. This is … nice.’

Rouge reached up and cupped his face in her hands. ‘You should let me put some makeup on you.’

Shadow groaned and turned his head away. ‘Don’t push your luck. I don’t even need it.’

‘People don’t wear makeup just because they need it.’ She held one finger to his lips, shushing him. ‘You’ve already got natural red eyeliner, and your lashes are so good that you don’t even need mascara.’ She rubbed a thumb over his cheekbone. ‘What about highlighter?’

‘A highlighter? Are we taking notes?’

Rouge rolled her eyes and gave him a kiss, leaving faint traces of gloss and glitter behind. ‘Oh, you’re cute. Seriously, though. Let me work my magic on you sometime. I’ll have you looking like one of those K-pop idols by the end of it.’

‘…I don’t know whether to be intrigued or afraid.’

‘Both, perhaps?’

He scoffed and sat up, smoothing back his quills. His shirt had come loose and gathered around his elbows, baring the muscles and scars of his back. She felt a twinge in her chest. She knew he hadn’t been created to be aesthetically pleasing. He’d been created to be a weapon, and aesthetics hadn’t mattered in the face of Maria’s rapidly progressing illness and GUN’s demands. And after you added alien DNA into the mix, it was a miracle that he hadn’t become a monster, literally or figuratively.

But somehow, despite the fact that his memories, his knowledge, and even his sex had been predetermined, he had still managed to defy his creators’ intentions. He was still…

‘Rouge?’

‘… You really are beautiful, sweetheart. I mean it.’

He half smiled. ‘So are you.’

‘Oh, come on.’ Rouge sat up and said, ‘You can’t say that when I’m wearing an old tank top and no makeup–’

‘I’ll say whatever the hell I want.’ He grasped her hand and pulled her upright, allowing her to lean against his shoulder. His voice was gruff but still warm. ‘After all, it’s not like I’m lying.’

Despite the black silk, denim, and leather straps, he was still the same person she’d always known – rough, standoffish, and attractive. A necklace with a butterfly pendant glimmered in the corner of her eye, and she held it up to his neck, wondering if it would suit him. ‘Maybe I can find you some nicer things that you’d be willing to wear out and about. Nothing too extravagant. What do you think?’

‘… Maybe.’ His eyes creased with a faint smile. ‘I’ll consider it.’

The End

Bonus Art by GladYSK