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withacapitalp · 1 year

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Trust Me

Read it on AO3 instead here. Special thanks to @riality-check for betaing for me!!! I love me some genderfluid Steve Harrington, and writing this was so much fun!! TW: internalized homophobia, internalized transphobia, and a couple f slurs

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It started with the long navy skirt that Carol’s mother got her for her thirteenth birthday.

Well, maybe it started a lot earlier. Maybe it started with Steve being both Tommy and Carol’s first kiss, or maybe it started with Steve always wanting to play house, or maybe it never really ‘started’ in the first place. Maybe this was just always who he was.

But Carol thinks it really started with that long navy skirt.

It wasn’t really Carol’s style. It was floor length and just a bit too long. When she tried it on, the bottom pooled around her on the floor like a rushing river. Her mom promised to get it tailored and told her to hang it up in her closet.

Carol, in a hurry to get dressed before Steve and Tommy, left it on her desk instead.

Her thirteenth birthday was perfect. Just her and her boys doing whatever she wanted. They went to Enzo’s for a fancy Italian dinner, watched a romance movie that Tommy pretended to hate, and got two scoops of cotton candy ice cream afterward to split. Her parents even let the boys sleep over in her bedroom as long as they all promised that Tommy and Steve were going to stay on the floor.

They broke that promise pretty much the second the door was shut, but what her mom and dad didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

Carol fell asleep squished between her two favorite people, snuggled in warm and safe.

She woke up half cold.

Tommy was still curled up on her left side, snoring and dead to the world, but her right side was chilly, and when she spread her fingers out searching, only the blankets greeted her.

Steve wasn’t there.

Carol cracked one eye open, looking past the empty bed and towards the clock on her bedside table. 3:48 am.

Way too early to be awake, even for an early bird like their Stevie. If it was Tommy, she would’ve just rolled over and went back to bed, assuming he was just getting up to pee or something. That was probably what Steve was doing. Carol didn’t need to worry.

But…but it was Steve, and Steve had a tendency to get himself into trouble. The little voice in the back of Carol’s head that sounded like her mother was nagging at her, telling her to check on him, telling her to make sure, just make sure.

So, with a heaving sigh, Carol untangled herself from Tommy’s octopus grip and pushed herself out of bed, shivering slightly when her bare feet touched the freezing cold floor. She scurried over to where her slippers were, jamming them on and walking out the door yawning.

She was too busy rubbing at her sleep filled eyes to notice the skirt that had been on her desk was missing.

Light spilled into the hallway from down the stairs, directing Carol to where she would find her missing boy. She decided to slide down the banister to avoid the creaky steps, smothering a giggle and keeping quiet. Steve was probably just getting a midnight snack and watching one of her VHS tapes. Maybe she would join him, and they could watch Robin Hood or Mary Poppins and fall asleep on the couch together like they did sometimes.

But when Carol finally peeked into the living room, she stopped short.

Steve wasn’t sitting on the couch munching on chips or drinking a soda, and the television was dark. He wasn’t sitting at all, actually. Stevie was standing by the big accent mirror her mother put in the corner of the room, looking at his reflection as he idly twirled back and forth.

That wasn’t the part that made Carol freeze in place.

She froze because he was wearing her new skirt.

It looked like it fit him wonderfully, actually. Steve had shot up like a weed last year, growing practically a foot in height, so the maxi length reached almost exactly halfway down his calves. His waist, which had always been tiny, looked positively perfect. If it was another girl trying it on, Carol would already be gushing about how cute it was.

But it wasn’t another girl.

It was Steve.

Her Steve. One of her boys. One of her boys was wearing a skirt, and it was a definitive fact that boys did not wear skirts. She would’ve figured it was just a joke, something stupid to make her and Tommy laugh, but then why would Steve do this in the middle of the night when they wouldn’t be awake to tease him? Why would he come downstairs when everyone else was asleep?

Why did Steve look like he was about to cry?

Any thoughts Carol had about poking fun at him disappeared. Steve never cried. Never ever. She hadn’t even seen him cry when he broke his wrist falling out of the tree in his backyard. The only time she had ever seen Steve cry was the first time his parents had missed one of his basketball games, and she hadn’t even ‘seen’ that, just heard it through his locked bedroom door.

(She didn’t like to remember that day. He had been crying so loudly it carried through his whole house. Carol guessed Steve never learned how to do that quietly, considering there was no need. His parents weren’t there.)

Sure, they liked to mess with each other, and Carol was never afraid of saying something that other people might be too sensitive about because she knew Steve could take it, but something about this just felt…different.

“Stevie?” Carol called, stepping into the room. He immediately stiffened up, the soft slope of his shoulders growing rigid with fear. Steve looked at her from the reflection of the mirror, not turning to face her properly.

He looked completely terrified, and that just wouldn’t do. She didn’t know what to say or think about a boy wearing a skirt, but she did know how to deal with Steve.

“It looks pretty,” Carol said with false lightness, walking into the room and standing behind Steve in the mirror. She tried to catch his eye and give him one of her sweetest smiles, but it fell when Steve avoided her gaze.

“It doesn’t,” Steve muttered, curling in on himself and grabbing at the hem of the old t-shirt he was wearing as pajamas, “I look silly.”

“I think it’s pretty,” she argued back.

Yes, he did look kind of silly, but she couldn’t stand seeing him make himself small like that. Steve did that whenever he was talking to his mom and dad, he would hide himself away and try to take up less space, but he never did that with her and Tommy. Carol wasn’t going to let him start now. Not because of this.

“It is really pretty, Stevie,” Carol added on, reaching out to put her hand on his shoulder, “The cut is nice, and it makes your waist look so small. I wish mine looked like that! Plus the color compliments your-”

“I look ridiculous, Carrie,” Steve interrupted harshly, jerking away from her before she could touch him and squeezing his eyes shut tight, “Like a fag, a sick freak.”

Carol left her hand hovering in the air, her stomach disappearing. Those weren’t Steve’s words. Steve would never say something that mean.

Carol knew she could be mean sometimes, and she knew Tommy could be even meaner other times, but that was only to people who deserved it. Steve was never mean, even to people who deserved it. He was a total sweetheart, soft and gentle, and he needed her and Tommy to protect those soft gentle parts of him.

The parts that would hurt if he heard things like that. The parts that would hold onto words like those, waiting for the perfect moment to turn them inward and hurt himself.

He had gotten those words from somewhere, and Carol was pretty sure she knew where. But no matter who had said them or about what, she knew she needed to make them go away.

Somehow.

“Well, it does look a little weird,” Carol started, quickly continuing when she saw Steve’s lip starting to wobble, “But not because it’s you wearing it! Just… that skirt really doesn’t work with your PJs. Wait, wait right here, I have an idea. Trust me.”

She scampered up the stairs, practically flying into her room and rooting around in her closet, throwing things left and right. When she found what she was looking for she gasped in delight, a sound that was just loud enough to make Tommy snuffle slightly away.

“Go back to sleep,” Carol said in a soft sing-song voice, pausing briefly in her mission to skip over and press a quick kiss to Tommy’s cheek.

She loved Tommy, and she knew Steve loved Tommy, and she knew that Tommy loved both of them, but this still didn’t feel like something that they needed to share with him. At least, not just yet.

Luckily, Tommy hummed happily and turned over, going back to his snoring. She chuckled quietly to herself and began to walk out, grabbing the big jewelry box from the top of her dresser as an afterthought.

Steve was still standing exactly where she had left him, looking out of place and uncomfortable in his body. The words ‘sick freak’ were still burning in her chest, and she could see them written on his features.

The other word was there too, but Carol couldn’t think about that word. She used it, and Tommy used it, but never for real. Steve had said it for real, stamping himself with a label that didn’t fit right.

Yeah, he and Tommy had kissed a couple times, but Steve had also kissed her a few times, and she kissed Tommy all the time. It was just something they had as friends, practice for when they got real boyfriends and girlfriends. That didn’t make them fags. That just…it made her boys her boys. That was all.

No matter what, Steve wasn’t a freak, and he definitely wasn’t sick. He was the coolest boy in school, her very best friend. He was soft and gentle where she and Tommy were hard and biting, and the three of them worked perfectly. Everyone looked up to them, everyone wanted to be them. Anything he wanted to do was right.

So if Steve wanted to wear something pretty, then Carol was going to make sure it was absolutely perfect.

“Here,” Carol said, handing over the sweater she had been looking for.

It was cashmere, soft and buttery to the touch, with a cream and dark blue striped pattern. Her uncle had gotten it for her in Paris, but he always got things way too big. It was ‘so she could grow into it’, but Carol really hoped she would never grow into an extra extra large.

Steve took the sweater from here, but didn’t move to put it on. He just held it, rubbing his thumb along the fabric and staring down at it with a strange longing.

“Go on. It’ll match way better,” Carol urged, nudging his shoulder with her own and stepping back. He stayed still.

“Trust me,” Carol repeated, keeping her face open and honest.

Steve tossed her an unsure look but did as he was told, hesitantly pulling his t-shirt off and slipping into the sweater. Without the pajamas clashing, the skirt looked even better, and Steve was even starting to cautiously admire his reflection again.

“Now let’s tuck it in,” Carol said, pushing away any lingering confusion and moving straight into business mode. She didn't have to think about whether it was right for Steve to want to wear a skirt, she just had to make sure that it looked good.

She pulled Steve so he was back directly in front of the mirror, standing behind him and reaching around. She tucked the bottom of the sweater into his skirt, fussing for a second to make sure it wasn’t bunched up anywhere and smoothing down the creases where his broad shoulders didn’t quite match up to the way the sweater was cut.

“Give me a twirl,” Carol ordered, spinning her finger the way her mother always did when she had Carol try on something new.

“Twirl?” Steve questioned, standing awkwardly.

Carol nodded eagerly, sitting on the coffee table and putting her jewelry box down next to her. She never really liked it when her mom made her do this, but it was enjoyable to watch someone else. Carol had always wanted a sister to play dress up with, and while this wasn’t exactly the same, it was still pretty fun.

Now that she was getting into it, it didn’t really seem all that strange to her, and the longer she looked at Steve in her clothes, the more normal it all seemed. It was just dress up, just something fun to do with her very best friend. Didn’t best friends try on each other’s clothes all the time? Tommy and Steve practically shared one wardrobe.

This wasn’t that weird. Just dress up.

Steve continued to just stand there for a minute before taking a deep breath and spinning in the smallest fastest circle she had ever seen. His face was beet red and he was staring down at his feet, but Carol could see the smile starting to grow on his face.

She made another teasing circle with her finger and Steve twirled around for her again, bigger this time. She giggled, and he answered with his own quiet laugh. The air in the room was growing bright and warm and Carol hopped up from her spot, grabbing Steve’s hand and tugging him over to the couch.

“Time for accessories,” She declared, dragging her box over and opening it. It was stuffed to the bursting with tons of different bits and baubles, and Carol began to root through it, picking out a few things she thought would match.

“Do I need these?” Steve wondered aloud, looking wide eyed at all the different options.

“Accessories make an outfit, Stevie,” Carol said, parroting the words her mother always said to her.

She put a bunch of her silver bangles around one of his wrists, and her favorite blue and white polka dot scrunchie around the other. None of her rings would fit Steve’s fingers, and his hair was too short for his hair was too short for any of her ribbons or to make a braid, but she did find a few star and moon barrettes to clip in that looked nice.

Carol pulled back to look at the whole outfit, tapping her lip with the tip of her finger. There was still something missing, something not quite right.

“Oh!” Carol said, realizing what was wrong. She reached up behind her own head, undoing the clasp and reaching up to put it around Steve’s neck instead.

“Wait, what are you-”

“Trust me,” Carol crooned, continuing to put the necklace around Steve’s neck. When the clasp was locked in place, she fixed the chain, arranging it exactly as she wanted.

“There, that’s better,” She said with a satisfied smile.

The locket was gold, which didn’t exactly match what she was trying to do with his ensemble, but it was the thing that was missing. Steve and Tommy had gotten it for her for her tenth birthday, and both of their pictures were inside, along with one of her baby teeth.

It was cheap, and her mother didn’t like it very much, but they had saved all of their pocket money to get it for her, and it was Carol’s prized possession. She never let anyone else touch it, and the only time she took it off was to take a bath or grab a shower.

She could feel its absence now, the lack of weight that was usually there on her neck, but the sensation didn’t fill her with the usual anxiety it caused. She knew it was in safe hands.

Out of the three of them, Steve was always the gentlest.

Steve looked lost again, reaching up to touch the locket in silent wonder. The bracelets around his wrist jangled against each other, and he almost startled at the sound, unused to wearing any jewelry. She snickered, opening up one of the other drawers in her box.

“Do you want some makeup?” Carol whispered conspiratorially, pulling out her secret eyeshadow and mascara, “My mom doesn’t know I have these, but I swiped them from the department store a couple months ago,”

Steve quickly shook his head, staying uncharacteristically silent. Carol could tell he wanted to say yes, and she really wanted to try and see if she could do a better job on him than she did on herself when she tried to put it on, but she held back. Steve was brand new to pretty clothes, and doing too much at once would probably be overwhelming.

He already looked pretty shocked as it was.

“Okay. Now let’s look properly,” Carol said, clapping her hands and pulling them both out of their thoughts.

She held out her hand and Steve took it, interlocking their fingers. Carol passively thought about different nail polish colors she could try on Steve as she walked them both towards the mirror. He probably wouldn’t like pink, but maybe baby blue? Or white with little stickers. That could look nice.

Or maybe this was a one time thing. Maybe Steve would look at his reflection and totally hate it and never want to try again.

That’s what Carol should want, right? It wasn’t normal for boys to want to put on pretty clothes, and it would be better if Steve decided he didn’t like it.

So why was she so hopeful that Steve would like how he looked as much as she did?

“How do you feel?” Carol asked as they reached the mirror, looking anxiously at their reflections.

Steve looked like himself still, but changed, evolved. It was like those soft parts of him- the gentle ones he kept hidden just for Tommy and Carol- were finally on full display, and the result was gorgeous.

The lean muscles that were starting to develop on Steve’s arms from swimming practice were hidden under cashmere stripes, and the barely there baby fat that was starting to fade made her want to squeeze his cheeks. He had a sweet smile on his face and he kept glancing shyly from the mirror down to his hands and back up to the mirror. It was like he was scared to see himself, but couldn’t look away.

“Pretty,” He whispered, his voice filled with awe, making Carol’s chest brim with light, “I feel pretty.”

“No,” She whispered back, leaning her head against his upper arm and beaming, “Trust me. You’re beautiful.”

“Beautiful,” He repeated, holding the word reverently on his tongue. Carol stood on her tip toes and kissed Steve’s cheek, wrapping her arms around his bicep and going back to looking at their reflections.

Carol’s mom never ended up getting that navy skirt tailored, because she never saw it again. When she asked her daughter, Carol played dumb, telling her it was in the laundry or missing somewhere in the house.

Her mother never found out that the skirt and the sweater that had never fit Carol now lived in the back of Steve Harrington’s closet, hidden inside a fabric bag behind a box of old baby clothes.

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