/AN: Another kinkmeme fill. The prompt is as in the summary, and I could not help but take the chance to fill it. I will add a little disclaimer here that I am not trans and although I have a few trans friends, I may not really fully understand what these people go through, and this fic was only an approximation of what I do know. I hope that things are realistic as possible and that I did the idea justice, but because I understand that gender is still a delicate issue, I am more than open to feedback.
Tucking a strand of that long brown hair everyone called beautiful behind her ear, following it down to the dangling earring, Desirée stared at the reflection that took her years to achieve. She felt so much more at home like this than she did as a teenager, but some days she couldn't help but feel a little strangled by the pressure of bearing her body as a half truth. Sure, the community had started to expand and society was progressing towards acceptance, but some people still bore the ignorance of the past and it still made living in this generation difficult.
"Fake."
"Wannabe."
"Attention whore."
"Liar."
She took a shaky but deep breath, blinking back the dull pain in her chest. She had heard it all before. It was dying down, but it still wasn't uncommon for someone to stop at the simple suffix without regard for what came after. I'm a woman, dammit, she remembered the horrible night too clearly, and I didn't choose to be born this way.
Sometimes she couldn't help but feel a little bitter about herself. "Passing," as they called it, was both a blessing and a terrible curse, and yet another thing she didn't ask for. It sparked jealousy, and it was the butt of too many slurs.
But, through all the tough times, being Trans was just something that Desirée considered a part of herself, for better or for worse. She wouldn't hide, and she wouldn't run. That's why she had to tell him.
A few months ago, the store she worked at had been broken into, and a rather handsome security guard defused the situation. She couldn't help but instantly fall for the man and his bravery, and as they got to know each other, he only kept getting better with that adorable, gentle, soft demeanor, although he was very passionate sometimes. Through a series of stumbling conversations, they started dating a week later.
Ron really was such a sweetheart.
Something about him always struck her as a little fruity, but as far as she knew, he was simply metrosexual. It made her nervous, but she hoped for the best and expected the worst. Somewhere inside, though, she knew a brave man like him couldn't so quickly turn her away. He'd listen, she was almost certain.
Turning away from the mirror, Desirée checked the time. She had a few more minutes to mentally steel herself, but in a last minute decision, she put all of her faith in her boyfriend. How could a relationship work otherwise? A smile tugged at her painted lips and she somehow just knew she made a good decision, humoring herself with the thought of brushing it off as "women's intuition."
Her helmet easily fit her head, and she pulled her goggles down on her face before gunning that gorgeous engine and setting out for her destination. The old bike had been with her through a lot of times, and the purr eased her mind.
Today was their three-month anniversary, and he invited her to a simple but elegant dinner date to celebrate. She couldn't help but smile to herself again when she remembered how softly he asked her. More accurately, she couldn't help but smile to herself over just about everything he did; she loved him, and that's all the motivation she needed for the night, because he loved her too.
"All right, man, you've got this," the ginger sighed to himself, straightening his tie and putting on his most determined face. He had arrived early at the restaurant on purpose. "Tonight's the night," he continued, "You can't afford to mess this up."
Ron thought back to the first date he had with the woman he now considered the love of his life. It was a simple, small coffee shop, but with Desirée in the room, it was the best mocha mint java and cheese danish he'd ever had. That smile, the week before he had saved it, or so she expressed gratitude for, but since he saw it the first time up close, it set his insides on fire in a completely different way than the anxiety and stress he was used to. With her laugh, he wouldn't have had to add sugar to even black coffee, and because of all of that, he swore to continue to protect her…although his sudden announcement of such earned him plenty of strange looks from onlookers. That all melted away with that tender first kiss.
He had to give her credit for being the brazen one; he never could've pulled that off. Yet, for some reason, she always thought of him as brave. For that sake, tonight, he would be as brave as he could again and tell her the truth.
The truth earned him quite a nasty reputation at work, and high school was even more terrible to deal with. He shuddered at the thought and forced himself to stay positive. Dessie certainly didn't think he was a sissy, and she was a very honest woman. She wouldn't turn on that–she couldn't!
As he took a calming breath, his ear twitched as it picked up a familiar sound getting closer. A motorcycle, he was sure. His heart skipped a beat at the sound, although he had no way of proving whether or not it was actually Dessie from the distance. Soon enough, though, his suspicions were confirmed when the gorgeous woman stepped inside the restaurant.
"Hey, Dessie!" he exclaimed, somewhat exasperatedly.
She smiled back and tucked that one traitorous strand of hair back behind her ear. "Hey, Ronnie. I take it our seats are ready?"
The more excitable of the two eagerly nodded and offered his arm out for his date and led the way, grinning in that awkward way that he did.
Both had it in mind to wait until after the meal to tell their side, and the night passed relatively same as usual, still warm and mostly open. It almost made the idea of coming out more difficult and tight, but instead it gave some kind of affirmation to the cause. Completely unaware of the other's intentions, each half decided that it would be best to not make a scene in the restaurant and to wait until they were outside to share the secret, so after the bill came through (Ron sighed internally at the price tag) the atmosphere finally reflected the forming anxiety.
Once outside, it was Ron that kicked up the conversation. "So, uh, Dessie? There's kind of something I have to tell you," he mumbled off in a decrescendo.
Desirée blinked a little in confusion as she put her own confession on hold for a moment. "Yeah, babe?" she ventured softly.
"Well, I love you more than anything, and things are getting deeper and more beautiful, but, uh, I may not be exactly who you thought I was, and I don't want you to be mad at me or anything, but I, uh," he stumbled off, tilting his head to the side nervously.
A pit dropped in the motorcycle enthusiast's stomach. iOh God, what if he's gay?/i the thought crossed her mind, but she quickly brushed it aside. "That's all right. It's the same with me. I mean, I won't shame you for who you are. I know what that's like," she affirmed gently, stepping a little closer.
"Well, I may not actually be, you know, a guy, at least, in the sense most people think. I mean, I'm still a man, at least, I consider myself one, but I don't necessarily," Ron ambled, getting rather flustered with the difficulty of saying it.
Desirée's eyes widened in realization. "Oh my god," she gasped incredulously. What are the chances of this? "Ron, are you saying…you're trans?" she prodded, earning a weak nod from the other and a sigh.
"I'm sor–"
"I am too!" she smiled, almost giggling a bit in a mix of relief, surprise, and joy. "I was going to tell you tonight too, but looks like you beat me to it. Oh, my man is as brave as ever, taking the lead on coming out even!"
Ron flushed scarlet at the compliment and his girlfriend's confession and readily accepting attitude. "I had no idea," he murmured before straightening up proudly. "It must be fate," he declared, "That we found the most understanding partners for each other!"
In a fit of giddiness, Desirée wrapped her arms tightly around her man and let out a long, content sigh. Finally letting go and opening up like this…it was like a breath of fresh air against the secret that had been strangling her. If he could accept her, let alone understand on the same level as her, everything else melted away. "I love you," she beamed, giving him a firm kiss on the cheek.
He wrapped his hands around her back knowingly and gave a little half smile. "I love you too, Dessie, and with that out of the way, there's nothing holding me back anymore." He cleared his throat and pulled away momentarily. His heart pounded in his ears at taking this next step, but he swallowed down his nerves and steeled himself with determination. Things were going too well and he wasn't going to stop now.
"Desirée," he said firmly, clearing his throat.
"Y-yeah?" she replied, taken aback somewhat at his new tone.
As he crouched down onto one knee, she took a deeper breath than before, and if tears didn't threaten to prickle her eyes with joy before, they certainly did now.
"W-will you do me the honor of being Mrs. Ron Delite?" he ventured, pulling a small box from his pocket with the most extravagant ring his paycheck couldn't afford inside, hands trembling ever so slightly as he did so.
"Oh my God," Desirée whispered in awe, putting a hand over her mouth to hide something of a choked sob. She then threw her arms around his neck and held him close. He really was such a sweetheart. "Yes, of course I will."
A man so brazen easily held her heart, and Ron couldn't have been happier with the notion. "I must be the luckiest man in the world then," he laughed nervously, standing up to hold her.
Onlookers who had witnessed the proposal cheered and whistled for the couple, mostly unaware of how powerful the night had truly been for them.
Finally, a breath of fresh air from the strangulation of the closet.