“What the fuck are you wearing?”
Eddie’s voice rang out through Steve’s bedroom.
Steve jumped because, well, he was completely alone in his house less than a minute ago, and now Eddie Munson was standing in his doorway staring at him.
In a skirt.
Not like, a short one. Just one of Robin’s that she let him borrow with no explanation.
She kind of gave him a knowing look, but she didn’t say anything. She probably didn’t want to scare him or make him second guess himself or feel any of the shame he finally buried deep enough to even ask her for it.
It’s just when he first saw it in her closet, he fell in love with it. The way it flowed in just the right spots, how it hit above the hips (or he thought it would if he ever was brave enough to try it on), how the color was the exact shade of blue he always preferred.
And Robin never even wore it.
It was shoved in the back of her closet like a forgotten thing, never to see the light of day because then Robin would have to acknowledge something other than jeans or stupid pleated pants that were apparently “all the rage for lesbians, Steve!”
So he spent months picturing himself in it, touching the soft fabric any time he had to grab something from her closet, practicing asking to borrow it “for a girlfriend.” Practiced telling himself that skirts were only gendered because of society, or whatever bullshit spiel Robin had gone into when they saw a guy getting teased for wearing a dress in Indy.
And he believed it just fine when it came to others. Doesn’t make any man who is a man less of a man and all that.
But for him?
It’s just not allowed.
Until it was.
He was staying the night at Robin’s because they had to close and then open the next morning. She was showing him her new sweater she’d bought for her first date with Nancy that she refused to actually ask Nancy out on. When she opened the closet, he saw the edge of it.
“Can I borrow that?”
Robin looked at him like he’d gained ten heads.
“Borrow what? The sweater? No. This sweater cost more than most of my closet combined. It’s gonna be my magical confidence booster.”
“Not the sweater.” Steve took a deep breath. “The skirt.”
“Uh.”
“I mean. Not for me. Obviously. For someone else.”
Robin raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms.
“Uh. Do I know her?”
“Nope.”
“Does she need clothes or something? I can do a closet clean out to help.”
Steve loved Robin. She wasn’t exactly well-off, but she’d literally give the shirt off her back if it meant someone else would have clothes who needed them.
He only felt a little guilty about lying to her.
“No, no. Uh. Just the skirt. She saw one like it the other day and loved it so much. She couldn’t get that one so I think if she can just wear this one once she’ll get it out of her system, ya know?”
If he was talking about himself, that was only for him to know.
But he saw the way Robin was looking at him. She knew. No amount of coverup was going to make her not know. He could only hope she wouldn’t ask questions.
“Sure. She can try it and see if it gets out of her system. She could also keep it if it doesn’t though.”
Steve gulped.
“Really?”
Robin gave him a small smile, encouraging when he felt like he was going to throw up all over her ugly bedroom carpet.
“Yeah. God knows I won’t ever wear it unless I’m being forced to.”
“Okay.” Steve smiled and walked over to the closet. “I…she’s gonna be really excited about this. Thanks, Robs.”
“Anytime Dingus.”
He turned to look at Eddie standing in his doorway, face flush with embarrassment and shame. He didn’t want this to be the end of whatever was going on between him and Eddie.
They were dancing around each other according to Robin and Will and Dustin and Max.
They were being ridiculous according to Nancy and Jonathan and Wayne.
They were being cautious according to Eddie.
They were just taking it slow.
Steve hated it.
But he knew why Eddie wanted to be cautious; Rushing into a relationship built on shared trauma is probably worth taking a little time on.
And even if they have been basically dating for months, it’s totally fine that they haven’t even kissed.
And now they probably never will because Eddie just walked in while he was wearing the skirt.
He loved this skirt. He felt pretty. He loved that when he turned in a circle, it fluttered out just enough to look cute, but not enough to show a bunch of skin. He loved the way the color made his tanned skin just a bit lighter, and he glowed a little in the mirror.
But now he would always think of Eddie leaving him in the dust because of it.
“I just. I. Sorry.”
Steve looked down at his feet, trying to feel for the zipper along the side of the skirt to take it off before he made things worse. His hands were shaking, adrenaline pouring through him so quickly he couldn’t find where the zipper began.
He felt a hand on top of his, holding it firmly to keep it from moving anymore.
“Stevie. Look at me.”
As hard as it was to do it, Steve looked up at Eddie, tears already forming in his eyes.
“You look beautiful. Keep it on, let me see you.”
And even though the words were so kind and made Steve feel so much better, he let the tears fall from his eyes.
Hearing Eddie say it out loud, that he was beautiful and allowed to wear this if it made him feel beautiful, was almost too much for him to handle. His last set of scars had really done a number on his self-confidence, but this skirt had given him hope for the first time in almost a year that he’d feel good in his skin again. Eddie had the power to tear him back down, but of course he hadn’t. He made it better, like he always did.
Eddie pulled his hand away from the skirt, holding it up and twirling him in a circle.
Steve giggled.
When was the last time he did that?
Never, maybe.
Eddie’s smile was contagious as they looked at each other with matching beaming smiles. He was staring at Steve’s face now.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy, sweetheart.” Eddie reached his unoccupied hand out to touch the waistline of the skirt. “I don’t think you know how incredible you look when you’re happy.”
What does a person even do with a compliment like that?
Pass out? Kiss? Die?
Steve settled on kissing Eddie.
It was time to move beyond whatever they’d been doing. Steve couldn’t wait any more.
If Eddie was going to not only accept this part of Steve that Steve had barely even accepted of himself, but also encourage him to feel beautiful, then Steve was going headfirst into this.
Their lips met harshly at first, Steve being a bit overzealous and misjudging how close they already were.
But within seconds, Eddie was slowing it down, placing both hands on Steve’s cheeks to control the pace better. He was licking along Steve’s bottom lip, silently asking for entrance, but not moving and faster or demanding anything more than what Steve wanted.
When they parted for air, Eddie rested his forehead against Steve’s, eyes blinking open slowly.
“You like the skirt?” Steve asked with a smirk.
“I love the person in it. I like whatever he feels best in.”
Steve sat with that for a moment, but recovered quickly.
“You love me?”
“Can’t imagine how you didn’t know, sweetheart.”
“Just didn’t know it was like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like the real kind. The kind where you love someone enough to love the things they love even if you aren’t sure what to do with it.”
“I love you the real kind.”
Eddie was smiling at him when he pulled away and left a kiss on the corner of his mouth.
“I love you the most kind.”
“I love you the best kind.”
Steve laughed.
“Can we dance?”
“If you want.”
“I wanna take the skirt for a test drive.”
Eddie settled his hands on Steve’s hips and started humming a song that was definitely not usually for a slow dance, but sounded nice enough for them.
When Eddie spun Steve out and twirled him back into his arms, and his skirt moved in just the right ways, he felt more like himself than he ever had before.
And when Eddie bought him his own skirt from a store in Indy the next time they had a date night, he let himself feel pretty in a way he didn’t think was possible.
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gd i get so fucking angry when i see crying about "boys are doing worse in school :(" being pulled up to look like a huge problem. you're not upset about boys doing 'badly' - you're upset about girls doing well. blaming it on the school system is so funny because tell me how the school system is suddenly modelled after the girls when we weren't even allowed in when the basis of the current system was being created lmao.
the difference between average grade by sex is about the same as the regional/geographic difference and it's less than the difference sorted by race/ethnicity (not even to mention the socioeconomic differences), yet these aren't the differences creating headlines every year. why?
because you find girls doing well wrong, like it's upsetting the natural order. you're hanging on to this idea that girls are stupid, yet when you're proved wrong you refuse to accept it, hanging on to an excuse of systematic differences that have to be solved now, because won't somebody please think of the poor boys :(
so we're looking at averages. here's the thing: those are never going to level out. we're always going to see one group being above/below others. you're just upset it's not in the "right" order.
the difference is smaller than you'd think, by the way. when i was in high school (non-us system, meaning voluntary/different kinds of secondary) we were 70 percent women. you know what else? the girls, in general, were working fucking hard. every single grade point they fucking earned. there's this story of girls' grades being inflated due to this and that, but all i've seen is boys getting grades for doing less - because they're outnumbered, the poor things, so it's obviously the teacher's job to support them, right? right??
even in trade school where we were a handful of girls per year, i saw nothing but the girls putting in their all and the boys showing up. sometimes. if they felt like it.
but it's a systemic problem, right? how else would girls be doing well? we've got to solve this, lest the boys get their egoes wounded by not placing in their 'natural' position. gd forbid we end up with an overweight of women professionals.
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