Just Ordinary Boys
Author's Note: A few things here are AU, but you'll understand as you read on. If something doesn't seem in the Glee-verse, it's probably intended. Senior year just ended for Santana and Quinn; disregard the entire senior year in Glee. Love interests will be introduced later on, probably in part 3. Planning on around 5 parts to this nonsensical (?) piece; I'm tired and I'll grammar/spell check it another time. This is an introductory chapter so it has a few time skips here and there. Please leave a review if you've got the time! Enjoy!
Part I: Die a Man
The room was a depressing shade of black, the intricate decals lining the walls barely seen in the dim lighting the lamps had been set to. The bed sheet and pillows were tossed aside on the floor, the bed instead stacked with piles and piles of clothing pulled from the very back of Santana's closet, cleverly hidden by rows of tight skirts, glittery dresses, and revealing tops. The clothes currently resting on the bed, however, were the farthest thing from feminine. The epitome of masculinity, as Santana would point out with a smirk – some slowly taken from Santana's dad's own closet and some carefully purchased under the guise of a present for a make-believe boyfriend or a non-existent brother. Quinn could only smile, hands itching to hold the scratchy and silky suits and dress shirts and v-necks that waited so eagerly to be worn.
This was the routine as they knew it. After a chillingly miserable week of donning skin-tight cheer uniforms and showing off their bodies and generally overcompensating, the two would retreat to Santana's room for a Friday night sleepover. Of course, the time wouldn't be spent talking about boys and school and rumors, but the first order of business would be to lock the doors. Then came rummaging through the closet and pulling out Santana's hidden collection of masculine clothing.
"Pass me my belt?"
"Yeah, here. Toss me the black tie over there?"
"This one?"
"Yeah."
"Alright, catch."
Looking into the mirror after donning the clothes, Quinn and Santana could see two dapper, young gentlemen staring back at them in the mirror, dressed in the finest suits and with hair tied back and hidden under hats.
And that's when Quinn felt as if he – yes, he – could finally smile and that's when Santana felt more like him – yes, him – self.
They tried to stay as silent as possible, careful not to break the fragile illusion; Together, they'd stand, staring into their reflections and believing, if only for the moment, that this was their lives now. This was Santana and Quinn, students of William McKinley Highschool, sons of Mister and Missus Lopez and Fabray, and… just ordinary boys.
The routine today was just like every other week, except for one difference – high school was over. Summer was beginning, and Santana couldn't help but feel disappointed, both in himself and in everything going on.
"God, Quinn. Remember how we promised one day, this wouldn't be just a Friday thing? How we said we'd make this a life thing?"
"What are we supposed to do? Just show up to school dressed like this? We'd be called the biggest dyk-"
"Well, we'd correct them. We're not gay, we're guys."
"Because that'll go over real well with all the ignorant people in our schools, wouldn't it? I mean, since homophobic people are just so understanding of everything not fitting with the social norms that transgendered people won't be a new field of freak to them."
Santana rolled his eyes at his best friend while slowly unbuttoning the dress shirt he had so lovingly put on. The illusion was broken and wearing these clothes only filled him with a painful stab of self-hatred.
"Freak," He'd hear in his head, "Freak. You can't ever be a guy. Look at you trying. It's not working! You might as well give up; you'll never be even half a man."
"Alright, so I'm being a little defensive. You know how our parents are though, Santana! They'd completely kill us!"
"Maybe, but look… I don't know about you, but living like this is killing me slowly, and at this point, a fast death by parent seems like a pretty good deal."
Quinn sighed, pulling at the tie around his neck.
"You're right."
Santana raised an eyebrow; Quinn's stubborn nature, a trait the two shared, usually led to more arguing.
"But it's not like we have a choice, San."
"I can't do this anymore, Quinn. We've been overcompensating all these years, being co-captains of a fucking cheerleading squad, going to bed with all those jocks, and I'm sorry, dude, but I'm not gay! If I see another penis that isn't mine, I'm going snap it in half."
"Idiot, you don't have a penis."
"Fuck you."
"I thought you said you weren't gay."
The two boys glared at each other before breaking out into laughter.
"But seriously, I'm done. I'm done with cheerleading and I'm done with boys. I'm done with breasts too."
Santana, naked except for his briefs and bra, unclasped the back of the complicated support bra and spent a few minutes fiddling it loose and pulling it up and over his head. He almost never took off that bra, opting to flatten it with a binder; his reasoning was simple. His chest was completely flat and clean, except for the scars that ran underneath where his breasts used to be. He held the strange bra in front of himself, raising and eyebrow at the soft, water ballon like pods that rested in the cups of the bra. Whenever he took off the bra completely, with the false breasts included, he felt a bout of dysphoria, unhappy knowing that despite his surgery, he had to live with those fake breasts on.
"It's funny how your mom and everyone at school seriously believes you got a boob job."
"I did have a boob job. Although it was more of a boob job to get rid of them. God knows how hard it was to get that whole plan to work, and I'm shocked it worked as well as it did. Well, breasts are so irritating. I don't understand why girls would ever want huge tits."
"I'm jealous, you know. I wish I could get rid of these stupid… growths."
"Damn, though. I have to wear these fake things every single day. You know how much that sucks? It's like I removed my breasts only to get newer, bigger ones flaunted. Guess what. I'm never going to wear these fake boob things again."
Santana tossed the bra with the pods included to the ground, kicking one of the watery balloons to the other side of the room.
"Good riddance."
Quinn looked down at his chest, the binder he used before discarded on the bed; his breasts were fortunately never too big, but they often frustrated him and made him feel emasculated. He hated it when guys would look at them and the way the cheer uniform would make them stand out.
"You know what Santana? You're right. I'm burning my cheerleading clothes. Every time I put on that uniform, I feel like dying."
"Exactly! Like we need to show off the things we wish would crawl off our bodies and go die somewhere."
The space between the two friends turning silent once again, Santana stared into his reflection. Sure, his chest was flat and his stomach was toned – the one part of his body he felt comfortable about – but the scars reminded him of bad times, his hips jutted out in that feminine way he hated, his ass felt ten times too big for his body, his face felt too soft and pretty, his hair was too long and beautiful, and he wished he didn't sound and look so womanly. Glancing at Quinn, he knew his best friend felt the same way, and he drew the blonde boy in for a tight hug.
"I can't live like this anymore, Quinn. I hate living in these few fleeting moments like this. I hated every single day all through high school and I hate dreaming and wishing and wanting."
"Yeah."
Embracing the sniffing Hispanic boy, Quinn drew his eyebrows in a tight line, almost angry at himself.
"Santana, let's make a vow. From today on, we're done. We're done being so damn scared of our parents, our friends, ourselves. We're done living this fantasy life and we're done making ourselves miserable living it. We're done being the epitome of femininity and we're done not being… well… ourselves."
"Damn straight."
Silence overtook the two, who separated and held their breaths as the minutes ticked on by, thinking. Their minds were fluttering to and fro, bits and pieces of regret and consequences weighing heavily in the back of their heads. Quinn was the first to break the silence.
"I'm scared."
"After that inspiring monologue you just delivered?"
Santana nudged the taller boy and the two broke out into laughter, the tears gathering in the corner of their eyes a compounded sense of agony.
"But seriously, though, Quinn. I'm scared too, but you're completely right. We can't live like that anymore. We let fear take away our whole entire lives until now, and frankly, I'm done with this bullshit. The more time passes, the more I feel besides myself. I seriously can't live like this anymore. I want to give me a chance."
Voice trembling, Santana looked straight into Quinn's eyes, determination etched on his face. Still, doubt lingered at the edge of his words, and Quinn knew that what he replied with would be the deciding factor. Clearing his throat and closing his eyes, Quinn tried to imagine. He tried to imagine the best case scenarios, but they were hard to think of. He tried to imagine years in the future, living as Quinn, beautiful housewife to some successful business man, a caring mother for three children and the definition of woman. And the definition of miserable, she added silently. Then she tried to imagine now, dying as Quinn, a young, lost, lonely boy named Quinn. No, she corrected herself, a young, lost, lonely, happy boy named Quinn.
"Then it's settled. Let's try for happiness."
Quinn was close to hyperventilating as she sat in front of the vanity mirror. Behind her stood Santana's cousin, Rico, a long time friend and confidant of the two boys. Currently wielding a pair of scissors and a razor, he smirked at the fearful blonde. The boy's long, blonde hair was one of the roots that kept him grounded in his false identity as the picture perfect Christian cheerleader. As soon as the scissors got close to his neck, he quickly jerked away from Rico.
"Ah, come on Quinn. I'm in an art college! I'm pretty sure I can use a pair of scissors."
"Just because you go to an art college does not make you a licensed hair dresser." Quinn snarled.
"Continue being rude to the man with the sharp weapon near your neck, Quinnie dear."
Grinning, Rico pulled Quinn straight onto the chair and gently grabbed all of the boy's blonde hair into a ponytail and brought the scissor to the base of it. He waited until Quinn closed his eyes and gave a curt nod of his head, signaling his permission to go through with it. The scissors came down and the hair dropped to the floor in a fell swoop.
"Shit, Rico. Don't get too much hair all over my floor." Santana complained, entering her bedroom with three water bottles in hand. It had been a full day since the two boys' decision and already, they were taking the steps they found necessary to begin living as themselves rather than living as they were expected to live.
"Okay, listen up Quinn. Here's the plan. Since we both decided to start college a bit later in the year, we'll be able to make as best of a transition now. We don't even have to be scared of being outed to our friends, since most of them will be in college or on vacation by the time we have any remarkable changes. Also, we'll stay at Rico's apartment since I'm not planning on coming out to my parents yet, and I'm sure you're not either…?"
"Yeah, talking to them now will probably ruin my chances of ever beginning transition. Go on."
"Since we're both eighteen, we can start taking testosterone, but one problem. We need to see a gender therapist to get the okay go on that, so Rico contacted one for us, since he knows a few people in the community."
"The perks of having a gay cousin, am I right, tigre?"
"Yeah, uh, don't call me that. Also, we have all the clothes we need packed up and ready to go, and you got permission from your mom to leave?"
"Yup. I told her Yale was having an early acceptance summer program or something. Can't believe she bought it."
"I told you it'd work. Rico lives literally two towns over so after we get our haircuts, we're leaving, alright?"
"Alright. Can't we say goodbye?"
"Really, Quinn?" Santana rolled his eyes at the boy.
"So you're just going to leave Brittany in the dust about all this?"
"I… I don't feel like it's in my best interest to."
"Or is fear of rejection getting in the way, hm?" Cocking an eyebrow, Quinn turned his head to smirk at Santana, an action that was received very poorly by Rico.
"Stay still, Quinn, or I swear I will use these scissors to give you more than a haircut."
"Sorry." Quinn quickly apologized, straightening his head for Rico's convenience, "But seriously. Santana's got this big thing for Brittany."
"What? I- I mean, I could say the same about you a-and that Berry girl, couldn't I?"
"Are you really going to go there?"
"Oh, I think I just did."
"So you went there."
"Generally, yes, that is the action which just occurred."
Rico sighed as the two boys began bickering, peeved at their constant fighting, but happy knowing the two had a brotherly bond that would and did help them through the most difficult times of their lives. It was something he lacked when we was still attending his conservative, narrow-minded high school; there were no other openly gay kids in his class and it had been rather hard for him to have to put on his best smile every day and act as if he agreed with all the hateful things he would hear daily.
"So are you guys planning on changing your names?"
"Not really. I feel like gender wise, Quinn can be either or. And I kind of like the name."
"Same with Santana. It's pretty much a guy name, as far as I'm concerned. It's my name."
"You just like that name because Brittany told you the first time she heard your name, the first thing that came to her mind was a hot, Hispanic man."
"What? That's a lie! That never happened! Also, I am a hot, Hispanic man. And you probably want to keep your name because… because Q comes before R in the alphabet and Rach-"
"What the hell? What kind of logic is that?"
"You want to fight me?"
After two hours of bickering and stressful hair cutting, Rico stepped back and examined his work on the two boys. Quinn's hair was short but he made sure to give him bangs; they seemed to suit his face better. He looked every bit the handsome, all-American, pretty boy that girls would immediately fawn over. With Santana's hair, Rico decided to try something more edgy. He cut it into a faux hawk, the sides cut clean and gelled to a tip. Definitely brought out the sexy badass in Santana, he thought to himself. Smiling at his handiwork, he stepped back and let the boys stare into the mirror.
"Damn, Rico! I feel like I should pay you!"
Santana was pleased, running his hand on the short, soft patches of hair on the sides of his head. Quinn was in awe, looking down at the long strands of his blonde hair that were strewn all over the floor.
"I am good. Now let's stop stalling. Grab your bags and we'll head out in a few hours. Make sure to say goodbye to Lima and lady Quinn and girl Santana!"
The following months had been good to Santana and Quinn. Following the move to Rico's apartment came the phone calls verifying the therapy sessions and despite Santana's reluctance to sit in a therapist's office for a few hours a day and Quinn's hesitation to trust a complete stranger with his life secrets, the two made it through the excruciatingly personal sessions without so much as a scratch. The approval letter for testosterone came a week earlier for Quinn than it had for Santana, mostly because Santana refused to talk the first week of therapy, but Quinn was more than willing to wait for Santana to receive his letter. Even though he was eager to get his shots already, Quinn felt compelled to wait for his best friend, the one person he couldn't stand not having besides him each step of the way.
The first shot of testosterone both boys received was about one month after their move to Rico's place and Rico couldn't help but scoff at the two squirming boys as they sat in the doctor's office. When the nurse stepped into the room with two sharp needles in her hands, he was sure that his two favorite boys would faint. Santana eventually bit his lip and let the nurse inject the hormones and Quinn was in a stupor at the sight of the needle so the nurse had no problem with injecting him.
Now, five months and about ten shots later, Rico felt the urge to drop-kick the boys out of his apartment. The boys spent the entire summer bumming around his apartment; the two had a schedule they followed almost religiously. They would wake up around five, run down to the gym across the apartment complex while Rico went to his college classes, return around noon, and proceed to obnoxiously laze around his living room for a good five hours until Rico himself had to physically remove them from his sofa, which was not a pleasant experience for him especially after sitting through three lectures. Then they'd go play in the complex's outdoor basketball court for a few hours until they'd return with food, which Rico could not resist, and again they'd latch onto his couch and play video games until he'd unplug the television out of frustration. Sleep didn't come easily to Rico; the boys would then loudly (and occasionally brutally) banter until they fell asleep.
No matter how hard he tried to get the boys ten yards away from the apartment and gym, Rico could not. He knew they were still self-conscious, having never presented as a man in public, and he knew they were probably still feeling the effects of their bodies' hormone balance shifting. Still, he felt that if he didn't do something soon, they'd refuse to go to their respective colleges, which were only a few months away. The campus was kind enough to allow them ample time to transition once their situation was privately discussed with the head of each college, but taking advantage of said kindness didn't seem like a bright idea to Rico. Every time he tried to talk sense into the two boys, they only scoffed at him and ignored his advice, but even though he wanted to give up on the two, he knew he couldn't. He hated that he was so mature.
"Okay, I've had enough of this!"
Rico unplugged the television for what felt like the millionth time this whole summer.
"Chill, mom."
He felt his eye twitching at Santana's sarcasm, and he resisted the urge to throw the television screen at the snickering boys.
"Look. You've both been living here five months. Five months! I hate to be that parental figure, but seriously, you've both got to get your heads on straight. I've paid for all your therapy sessions, all your testosterone shots, and all your new clothes. I don't need to be paid back in cash. All I'm asking for is for you two to give me some respect, okay?"
He knew he somehow reached them when the boys stiffened up, eyes darting away from the Hispanic man and laughter subsiding.
"We do respect you," Quinn said, his voice soft.
"Yeah. Okay, sorry I was being a prick," Santana muttered, leaning back on the couch, "I mean, we really do appreciate what you've been doing for us."
Rico felt a small smile grace his lips; although he should be feeling mad at Santana and Quinn, he knew the two were being sincere and he couldn't help but feel like the bigger brother to these growing boys.
"I just don't understand why you won't leave the apartment complex. Be honest with me, guys. You two can't just keep being hermits. I've told you boys time and time again, but even if I send you two to the market a few blocks away, you both immediately refuse."
His voice was gentler, calmer, and he saw their tense shoulders relax.
"Because we just like it here," grumbled Santana, looking away from Rico.
"What Santana is trying to say is that we're uncomfortable." Quinn quickly supplied, nudging Santana.
"Uncomfortable about what?" Rico smiled, "Look at you two? Maybe you both don't see it, but seriously, when was the last time you both looked into a mirror? Like really looked?"
"I don't know. I avoid mirrors if I can." Santana mumbled as Quinn nodded along.
"Well, look."
Rico rushed into his room and pulled out a light, body sized mirror. Putting it down in front of the television, he forced the boys to stand up in front of it, and they stared at themselves, grimaces still painted on their faces.
"See, you're doing what I used to do." Rico said tenderly, "Back when I was cornered into the closet, I'd look in the mirror and see only my flaws. I'd look at my reflection and I'd think to myself "Who is this ugly guy? His cheeks are too high, his lips are too pursed, and his eyes are too wide. He looks so gay." Be honest with me. What are you seeing?"
Quinn and Santana were silent as they stared intently into the mirror as Rico waited for them to begin talking.
"That person there… He's got breasts. He's a man but he's got breasts." Quinn whispered, almost ashamed of himself.
"And he doesn't even have a penis. A guy without a penis. What a joke. Ha." Santana added, his laughter weak.
"And his cheeks are so rounded. Feminine."
"And his lips are too plump."
"And his hips. They jut out so much. They're curvy. Everything is just…"
"…just so damn feminine. His eyes."
"His ass."
"His shoulders."
"His nose."
The boys fell silent as Rico nodded his head.
"What are you thinking?" He repeated.
"That the person there is a…" Santana covered his eyes with his hands, trying hard not to cry.
"…a woman." Quinn finished, sniffing as he turned away from the mirror.
"And that's where you're wrong." Rico said, voice determined, "You see what you believe. I looked in the mirror and I told myself I was disgusting, abnormal. And that's what I saw. Everything about me that was beautiful became this atrocious, vile thing. I hated myself so much and I could only see what I hated."
He thought back to those days when his life felt off track; thoughts of suicide were a daily event, and he began doing things he'd later regret. The boys weren't being lazy; he figured as much. They were struggling, suffering, and he had to put an end to it, not only for college, but for the sake of their futures.
"And then I began to realize I wasn't so disgusting. I began to realize that I wasn't some monstrosity. I wasn't this huge, walking sin, and my eyes cleared up. The mirror reflects your image, boys. It's your mind that filters out what's really there and makes it something you despise."
The boys looked up at Rico and waited for him to continue.
"Now you two are boys. Men. And it's not just because the testosterone shots. You were boys since the moment you were born and men once you realized it. A body will not change that fact. You are men. All the testosterone is doing is matching what's inside with what's outside. And it's doing its job really damn well. I'm looking at you two and that's what I see. Men. Look in the mirror again and tell me what you see."
Warily, Quinn and Santana faced their reflections, the frowns on their faces slowly turning upwards.
"Now do you see what I see?"
"You lied to us." Quinn suddenly whispered, frowning again and turning his head towards Rico.
Rico stared back in shock; he was so sure he was finally getting through to them. Did he say something wrong? Were they too far down pity lane to hear him out? Was the shock of suddenly transitioning too much for them? Was the pressures of society getting to them? Was-
"You didn't mention how freaking sexy we were." Santana laughed, relief flooding around Rico as Quinn joined in on the laughter.
"That I did not." He said, grabbing his two favorite boys in the entire world in separate chokeholds, laughing with them as they struggled to escape, "That I did not."
He was content. There were three smiling faces in the room and with the mirror, six.