fifteendozentimes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fifteendozentimes) wrote2010-04-08 11:39 pm
fifteendozentimes) wrote2010-04-08 11:39 pm
WIP Amnesty: Untitled Trans Man!Ryan/Trans Woman!Bill (Bandom)
As told to a friend: "basically ryan is mostly transitioned and totally passing by truckstops and statelines, while william has just barely kind of put words to the general sense of discomfort she's had with her body for years, and she basically looks at this KID who is all Owning It and she kind of uses him as the kickstart motivation to come out and demand people start calling her Billie and she and her. And they date for a while and it's horribly faily and they're friends after that and it's the opposite of horribly faily...i tried so hard to actually write that one but it's one of those fics that just needs to live in my head and influence everything else, i think"
During sex, Ryan does not disclose he's using a strap-on rather than a flesh-and-blood dick; Ryan deliberately intended to make her think it wasn't a strap-on.
The first time Ryan fucks Bill, it's before he knows (before any of them know, except maybe Brendon after all that time he spends with Jon); before Bill knows about Ryan, too, which is probably 90% of the reason it happens at all. There are a certain number of things in his life Ryan takes as challenges, tests to be passed, and the novelty of passing the test where he fucks a girl without her figuring anything out has kind of worn off. Fucking a guy, though, that's a new one, a harder one.
So when Bill scoots too close to Ryan, murmurs in Ryan's ear about his "giant dick", Ryan ignores the way Spencer rolls his eyes, the way Brendon's looking at him like this can only end with a disgraced early exit from the tour, the climax of a Behind the Music special, and lets Bill lead him into bathroom.
Later, Ryan learns why Bill's underwear seemed odd, cut higher on the legs, lower at the waist than any men's underwear he'd ever seen, why Bill kept shoving Ryan's hands away from Bill's dick, why he jerks and comes, violent and sudden, at Ryan's mumbled complaint about his dick slipping out (too much lube, he thinks, "too wet", he says, and Bill goes totally still, cries out like it's being ripped from his throat).
All he knows right then is Bill doesn't say anything when Ryan's still hard after he comes, after he takes a few seconds to rest his forehead against the sweat-soaked cotton of Bill's t-shirt, when he pulls out. That's good enough, right then; better than.
*
Ryan's usually a decent poker player ("Because all your faces are poker faces," Spencer tells him), but he's losing Sisky's high-candy-stakes game spectacularly. He's fairly sure that's because he's sitting next to Brendon and has the unfortunate habit of getting too absorbed in the game to notice Brendon stealing pieces of his candy. Spencer, on Brendon's other side, keeps slapping his hands away, so it's not like Ryan's the only victim.
Either way, he runs out of candy first and opts to go find something else to entertain himself.
"It's fucking ridiculous," Bill's saying, sprawled on the couch so his eighteen feet of limbs take up about thirty-six feet of space. "He's, what, twelve? And he's got his shit all figured out."
Jon's rooting in one of the cabinets, head far enough in Ryan can barely see the movement of his shoulders when he shrugs. "He's been figuring himself out longer, I think, from what Brendon says. And, like, you're plenty figured out, you just don't tell people, so you get reminded all the time."
"But that's the same thing, isn't it? He's together enough to be able to say it."
Jon emerges from the cabinet with a half-empty bag of Twizzlers that had to have been hidden pretty well to escape the pre-poker-game candy hunt; when he turns, he meets Ryan's eye, and his face gets so guilty so fast there's no question who they're talking about (Ryan would've guessed Spencer; Bill claims they're all twelve, but he's the only one who fits the "got his shit figured out" description).
"What's Brendon telling you about me?" Ryan asks, knows he doesn't sound as casual as he wants to. Bill drops his head back over the arm of the couch with a slowness that belies the surprise on his face, looks at Ryan upside-down with this...look...in his eyes.
"Uh," Jon says, but Bill just keeps looking at Ryan; Ryan escapes back to the poker game in the back lounge. Siska's poker face is easier to read than the look in Bill's eyes.
*
*
Ryan's father dies, and Billie goes almost a week without talking to him; he doesn't call, and she doesn't have any idea what to say. "I'm sorry" is the standard, but it doesn't seem to fit, feels like it whitewashes over all the reasons this is complicated.
Her phone rings early on the seventh day of radio silence, with the ringtone that has her picking it up before she's even lifted her head off the pillow.
"I did it," Ryan says, instead of "hello"; Billie blinks a few times, tries to clear the sleep out of her head so she can understand what he means.
"Um?"
"My name, I – my name. I'm Ryan Ross, officially. Legally."
"Holy shit," she says, instead of "I would've been there with you, if the timing was better." "I – wow. Congrats."
"It's. I mean. It's nothing. Everyone calls me Ryan. But, I mean, it's. It feels different."
Once, Mike had disappeared with a reporter a little while before an interview, refused to tell anyone why. When the article was printed, the reporter had referred to her throughout not as William, or Bill, or even Billvy, but Billie, spelled the right way and everything. It was nothing – the reporter didn't understand why it mattered, and still used "he" and "him" for Billie's pronouns, and the only people who would know what it meant had already been calling her Billie for ages. But it was everything.
"It's not nothing, Ryan."
During sex, Ryan does not disclose he's using a strap-on rather than a flesh-and-blood dick; Ryan deliberately intended to make her think it wasn't a strap-on.
The first time Ryan fucks Bill, it's before he knows (before any of them know, except maybe Brendon after all that time he spends with Jon); before Bill knows about Ryan, too, which is probably 90% of the reason it happens at all. There are a certain number of things in his life Ryan takes as challenges, tests to be passed, and the novelty of passing the test where he fucks a girl without her figuring anything out has kind of worn off. Fucking a guy, though, that's a new one, a harder one.
So when Bill scoots too close to Ryan, murmurs in Ryan's ear about his "giant dick", Ryan ignores the way Spencer rolls his eyes, the way Brendon's looking at him like this can only end with a disgraced early exit from the tour, the climax of a Behind the Music special, and lets Bill lead him into bathroom.
Later, Ryan learns why Bill's underwear seemed odd, cut higher on the legs, lower at the waist than any men's underwear he'd ever seen, why Bill kept shoving Ryan's hands away from Bill's dick, why he jerks and comes, violent and sudden, at Ryan's mumbled complaint about his dick slipping out (too much lube, he thinks, "too wet", he says, and Bill goes totally still, cries out like it's being ripped from his throat).
All he knows right then is Bill doesn't say anything when Ryan's still hard after he comes, after he takes a few seconds to rest his forehead against the sweat-soaked cotton of Bill's t-shirt, when he pulls out. That's good enough, right then; better than.
*
Ryan's usually a decent poker player ("Because all your faces are poker faces," Spencer tells him), but he's losing Sisky's high-candy-stakes game spectacularly. He's fairly sure that's because he's sitting next to Brendon and has the unfortunate habit of getting too absorbed in the game to notice Brendon stealing pieces of his candy. Spencer, on Brendon's other side, keeps slapping his hands away, so it's not like Ryan's the only victim.
Either way, he runs out of candy first and opts to go find something else to entertain himself.
"It's fucking ridiculous," Bill's saying, sprawled on the couch so his eighteen feet of limbs take up about thirty-six feet of space. "He's, what, twelve? And he's got his shit all figured out."
Jon's rooting in one of the cabinets, head far enough in Ryan can barely see the movement of his shoulders when he shrugs. "He's been figuring himself out longer, I think, from what Brendon says. And, like, you're plenty figured out, you just don't tell people, so you get reminded all the time."
"But that's the same thing, isn't it? He's together enough to be able to say it."
Jon emerges from the cabinet with a half-empty bag of Twizzlers that had to have been hidden pretty well to escape the pre-poker-game candy hunt; when he turns, he meets Ryan's eye, and his face gets so guilty so fast there's no question who they're talking about (Ryan would've guessed Spencer; Bill claims they're all twelve, but he's the only one who fits the "got his shit figured out" description).
"What's Brendon telling you about me?" Ryan asks, knows he doesn't sound as casual as he wants to. Bill drops his head back over the arm of the couch with a slowness that belies the surprise on his face, looks at Ryan upside-down with this...look...in his eyes.
"Uh," Jon says, but Bill just keeps looking at Ryan; Ryan escapes back to the poker game in the back lounge. Siska's poker face is easier to read than the look in Bill's eyes.
*
*
Ryan's father dies, and Billie goes almost a week without talking to him; he doesn't call, and she doesn't have any idea what to say. "I'm sorry" is the standard, but it doesn't seem to fit, feels like it whitewashes over all the reasons this is complicated.
Her phone rings early on the seventh day of radio silence, with the ringtone that has her picking it up before she's even lifted her head off the pillow.
"I did it," Ryan says, instead of "hello"; Billie blinks a few times, tries to clear the sleep out of her head so she can understand what he means.
"Um?"
"My name, I – my name. I'm Ryan Ross, officially. Legally."
"Holy shit," she says, instead of "I would've been there with you, if the timing was better." "I – wow. Congrats."
"It's. I mean. It's nothing. Everyone calls me Ryan. But, I mean, it's. It feels different."
Once, Mike had disappeared with a reporter a little while before an interview, refused to tell anyone why. When the article was printed, the reporter had referred to her throughout not as William, or Bill, or even Billvy, but Billie, spelled the right way and everything. It was nothing – the reporter didn't understand why it mattered, and still used "he" and "him" for Billie's pronouns, and the only people who would know what it meant had already been calling her Billie for ages. But it was everything.
"It's not nothing, Ryan."