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So, Spencer’s starting to think that maybe people are right about the whole ‘transgenderism is contagious’ thing, because he’s been noticing more and more that whatever cisgender is, his ‘boyfriend’ is very much not… that.
He brings it up for the first time, like with many such sensitive subjects, after sex, when the refractory period on his brain to mouth filter proves too short for him to either fall asleep or get up before it kicks back in. Shit, he hasn’t even taken his dick off yet before he’s saying a cautious “hey, Ryan?” and pulling him in by the waist.
“Hmm?”
“You’re kind of the girl in this relationship.”
Ryan snorts against his neck, and says “that’s homophobic, you know? One of us doesn’t have to be the girl, and it’s not me just because I like to get fucked.”
“Yeah, one of us doesn’t have to be, but you are, and it’s not because you like to get fucked.” Ryan sits up, then, propping himself up on an elbow, searching Spencer’s face for something, and, really, Spencer should probably take the dick off now, because this conversation might be about to turn serious, and having his massive silicone cock sticking up in the air as he lies on his back would be incongruous at best. (And, seriously, this one is massive, almost comically so, because Ryan is the one who picked it out, and he’s a bit of a size queen. He’s always said it’s one of the best perks of Spencer being trans: being able to customize his boyfriend's dick, and, honestly, as long as Ryan’s happy, Spencer’s not complaining.)
“What do you mean,” he asks cautiously as Spencer sits up, taking the harness off hastily and dropping it over the side of the hotel bed. He’ll have to clean it before he packs it up again, anyway, so it’s not like it matters if it touches the floor.
“You like when I call you pretty, and compliment your makeup, and call you babydoll, and I know that time you tried on all my old girl clothes before I donated them moved out of joke territory a couple times.” He tucks some hair behind Ryans ear, and Ryan swallows hard, looking suddenly nervous. “And you get kind of irrationally upset with the term ‘guyliner.’”
“What are you trying to say?”
“I think you know what I’m trying to say.”
Ryan looks at him, all nervous doe eyes, and he really is fucking beautiful, jesus. He blinks up at Spencer, and says a quiet “I don’t want to go there, Spence.”
He wants to say ‘I know you don’t, baby, but you have to. You’re going to have to someday,’ but he doesn't, because he remembers how scary this was at first, how daunting, and that’s a bit much for their first conversation, so instead he just pulls Ryan back to his chest, rubbing over his lower back comfortingly.
He does say “that’s not how cis people respond to that,” into his hair, and Ryan shakes his head gently.
“Not right now.”
“Okay, baby. Not right now.”
----------
The thing about it is, though, once that thought is formed in his head in a concrete way it kind of starts slipping out. When you’re trans, Spencer has learned, you sometimes get this thing where you can get, like, second hand gender euphoria from gendering other trans people correctly, or even from things as small as using subtle little gendered terms here and there. Shit, writing autographs for people with their preferred names practically makes him melt into a puddle of goo, and the way the fans return his beaming grin only makes it more pronounced. So, as he naturally tends to do with anyone that’s questioning their gender around him, he starts switching up his language a little, just testing the waters, seeing if he can get that warm reaction he’s after.
Babydoll is always a winner with Ryan, and has been since the first time he blushed all the way down his neck at hearing Spencer say it, but that’s not the word that finally makes it click for Ryan. That word, unfortunately, is princess.
One day, when they’re all sitting in the lounge, between two midwest cities none of them really even bothered to take stock of, Ryan asks him something completely innocuous, just “hey, Spence? Grab me a Redbull while you’re up?”
“Sure,” Spencer replies automatically, walking clumsily from the lounge to the kitchen on the moving bus. Walking on a bus is a bit like walking on a boat, he thinks, and they’re not far enough into this tour that he has his ‘sea legs,’ so to speak. Still, he makes it back to the couch with little difficulty. He hands Ryan the Redbull as he sits down, pulling out his phone, the thing he actually stood up to get.
“Thanks,” Ryan says casually, cracking the can open.
“‘Course, princess,” Spencer replies, almost automatically. The name kind of just slips out, because Spencer’s been considering trying it out for a while, and it sounds enough like a joke one of them would make that Jon and Brendon don’t bat an eye on the other side of the lounge, but when Spencer looks up at Ryan he finds him blinking down at the can in his hand, his eyes wide. Spencer knows that look. One hundred percent that is the ‘oh fuck, I’m trans, aren’t I?’ look, and when he finally looks up at Spencer, his eyes huge and lost, Spencer just drops an arm around his shoulders, kisses him on the side of his head, and whispers “we’ll talk later.”
This time, Ryan nods, and takes a nervous sip from the Redbull.
----------
“So,” Spencer starts, crossing his legs to sit up against the headboard of their hotel bed.
“So?” Ryan returns, mirroring him.
“You’re a woman,” Spencer tries, watching Ryan’s reaction carefully.
“Yeah,” she whispers, swallowing hard and staring at Spencer with those huge eyes again, her hair falling in her face a little like she’s trying to hide behind it. “Yeah, I think I might be.”
“Okay,” Spencer says, as casually as he can manage, because he remembers what this was like, he really does. It was years ago, now, but he remembers that first admission, that first moment where he fully faced the reality that, yes, this was going to be the rest of his life. From that point on, he would know he was trans, no matter what, even if he had never come out, he would always know.
It’s scary, and it feels like it’s the biggest deal in the whole world in that moment, and Spencer remembers how, when it was him, in that moment, it felt like that would go on forever, like he’d never get to that place he’d seen so many other trans people get to where they’re happy and content and sometimes they hardly think about it.
He’s there now, though, and Ryan can get there, too. Spencer’s going to make sure of it.
“No, not okay, Spencer, fuck! What the fuck am I going to do? I’m going to have to tell people, and go to doctors, and shit, and get questioned, and-”
“Hey, hey, let’s not think that far ahead, okay?” Spencer moves forward, reaching out to pull Ryan to his chest, and she goes easily, falling to the side so she can press her forehead to his neck. Spencer moves a hand to the dip just above her hip bone, spreading it out so the contrast of his large hands on her small waist will feel more pronounced, and strokes his other one through her hair, trying to be soothing. “This is good, okay? Because right now it’s just us, so fuck the rest of the world, alright? They don’t matter to me, all I care about is figuring out how to make you feel better.”
“I don’t even know where to start,” she admits, bringing a hand up to hold onto Spencer's forearm.
“Well,” Spencer starts, running his fingers through her silky hair. (seriously, Spencer swears they use the same hotel shampoo every night, so he has no idea how she keeps it so soft.) “First we start with language, like names and pronouns and gendered shit like that.”
“I think my name is alright,” she says after a beat. “I’ve known girls named Ryan.”
“And it’s she, right?” Spencer clarifies, just making sure.
“Yeah,” Ryan says, tentatively. “It’s she.”
“So, I’ll say things like ‘this is Ryan, she’s my girlfriend,’” Ryan draws in a sharp breath, and Spencer pulls back to look at her, stroking a thumb over her cheekbone. “And I love her very much.”
Ryan looks up at him, all wide brown eyes, and smiles tentatively, like she isn’t sure she’s allowed to like it yet, and Spencer grins at her, kind of weirdly proud. He tucks some hair behind her ear, tilts her face up with a finger under her chin, and says a slow, emphatic “you really are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”
He means it, too, he hopes she can tell that he means it.
----------
One week after their initial conversation, for the first time in over half a decade, Spencer finds himself in a Victoria's Secret. The ladies at the front look at him skeptically, probably worried he’s some pervert coming in here on his own, but they seem to relax at least a little when he says he’s there for his girlfriend, (and, really, calling her that out loud to other people is so nice. There’s that second hand gender euphoria thing, and god, it’s so much better when it’s someone you’re close to.)
The ladies working there are extremely impressed when Spencer can give an exact bra size. (32 A, it’s a guess, but a good one, because Spencer did manage to convince Ryan to try on one of his old bras just that once, and he did take a mental note of how it fit her.) He kind of smirks to himself when they’re impressed with his expertise, actually, because sometimes it’s just funny being trans. It’s hysterical when you know way more about something than anyone is expecting you to, and yet they somehow never suspect the real reason why.
He buys her, admittedly, kind of a lot. Most of it isn’t even lingerie, honestly, which also seems to impress the ladies at the front, proving to them that, no, this isn’t just an excuse to get his girlfriend in sexy underwear, he actually is just trying to buy her some things she can feel confident and comfortable in. Things that are just for her.
He leaves with a huge fucking bag, which he feels kind of awkward about carrying through the mall, but whatever. It’s worth it.
Ryan had been out when he got back, and they hadn’t seen each other all day until sound check, which means that after the show, when they’re taking the elevator up to their room, having opted out of the afterparty tonight, Spencer gets to pull her in by the waist, and say a conspicuous “I got you something,” into her ear.
Ryan puts both hands on his chest, pulling back a little to look at him suspiciously, and Spencer just smiles at her, kissing her on the cheek once just before the doors open.
The bag is sitting on Ryan’s bed when they enter their room, and she stares at it with raised eyebrows for a second, frozen, before turning to look at Spencer.
“Go ahead,” he says with a smirk, gesturing towards the bed with his head. He crosses his arms, leaning sideways against the wall, as Ryan sits gingerly on the bed, peering into the bag cautiously. Her eyes widen again as she sees how much is in there, and she looks back up at Spencer, shocked.
“You didn’t have to,” she says softly, breathlessly.
“I wanted to, and I didn’t know what you’d like, so I kind of got, uh, a little of everything.” He really did, too, got her underwear of every cut, some corset tops, some actual lingerie, and only a couple tiny little lacy things, because, like, he’s only human, so yeah, he’s obviously going to buy his girlfriend a pair or two of lacy underwear. (Also, he’s heard some girls just like to wear it for themselves. The ladies at the shop mentioned something about that, too.)
She pulls everything out slowly, running the fabric over her hands as she lays them out on the bed, just staring. They’re mostly dark reds, because, well, Spencer likes how she looks in dark red, he thinks it brings out her eyes, but there’s some other stuff in there, too. A little off-white lace, to match a lot of the stage accessories she likes, a navy blue set of satin pajamas.
“Spence,” she starts softly, looking up at him again. “This is a lot.”
“Not like we can't afford it,” he shrugs. Once again, he knows that Ryan absolutely cannot feel casual about this, there’s no way she’s going to be able to treat it like it’s no big deal, but he also knows that when he first started wearing boys clothes, when he started binding for the first time, Ryan treating it like it was no big deal was just about the only thing that made him feel like he was keeping his head above water, so he can do the same thing for her. “I wanted to make sure there would be something you like.”
She swallows hard, looking back to the clothes laid out on the bed. “Do you want me to, uh-” she asks after another minute of staring, turning back to meet his gaze again, nervous.
“You don’t have to,” he assures her. “They’re not for me, you know? If you want to you can, but I’m not going to ask you to try them on for me, or anything.”
“I want to,” she says softly, picking up the navy blue satin cami set. Spencer hopes she likes that one, he thought the cut of the shorts would look really good on her. “I need to shave my legs,” she comments as she gingerly feels the lace edge of the top.
“So shave your legs.”
“I don’t know how.” Her voice comes out a bit regretful and it makes something tug at Spencer’s chest. As much as secondhand euphoria is great, secondhand dysphoria is kind of equally painful.
“It’s not hard. I did it at, like, thirteen.”
“Teach me?” she asks, hesitantly, as she shrinks in on herself a little.
“Sure, sugar,” Spencer replies immediately, finally pushing himself off the wall. He offers a hand out to her, and she takes it, letting herself be pulled up. Once she’s standing Spencer wraps an arm around her lower back, holding her firmly, and she smiles at him hesitantly as she drapes her arms over his shoulders. “Whatever you want.”
----------
Spencer knows, without a doubt, that it’s a privilege to be able to see Ryan like this. She doesn’t really do, well, anything, without being completely sure of herself first, so being allowed to watch her try something is definitely not something just anyone gets to do. Spencer tries not to make a big deal out of it, even though he really, really wants to walk over to where she’s sitting and hug her around the shoulders from behind and kiss her everywhere and tell her she looks beautiful, because that’s not super conducive to the whole ‘this is normal and casual’ thing he’s going for. He tries hard to focus on the magazine he’s reading, laying on his stomach on their hotel bed, as Ryan sits in front of the mirror at the hotel desk, carefully putting on lipstick. The shade matches her red slip dress, like, perfectly, and red really is her color, seriously. It’s classic, you know? And that look just fits her. She’s got all this quiet poise, with big brown eyes and long slender legs, moving all slinky and fluid when she does just about anything. And, for someone who spends most of her time sitting around with a bunch of guys playing video games on a bus, she really does have weirdly good posture.
“You’re staring,” she comments flatly, pressing her lips together a few times to even out the color. She has just a hint of mirth in her eyes, though, as she bats her eyelashes a few times in the mirror. She tilts her head to the side, adjusting her hair a bit, and one of the straps slips down on her shoulder. Spencer doesn’t even know what fucking magazine this is.
“Fuck,” Spencer says eloquently.
Ryan snorts at him, breaking out into a full on grin as she makes eye contact with him in the mirror. She stands up gracefully, making her way to the full body mirror across from the bathroom, and Spencer is very aware that he’s still staring, but he kind of can’t help it. She smooths her hands over her hips, turning side to side just a bit, and the cut of that dress really emphasizes her curves in a way Spencer is kind of proud of himself for. Another benefit of having a trans boyfriend, he supposes, is a man who, theoretically, actually knows things about womens clothes.
Spencer walks up behind her slowly, settling his own hands on her waist, and she looks up at him through her eyelashes in the mirror, knowing exactly what she’s doing. Spencer spreads his fingers out, making his hands look and feel absolutely huge on her thin waist, and he sees her staring at them in the mirror, watching the way it makes her look so fucking feminine in comparison to his hands. Spencer pulls her back against him, presses his nose right under her ear in a way that always makes her hair stand on end, and says a completely sincere “I could eat you, seriously.”
Ryan smirks at him in the mirror, and he tightens his grip on her waist once before moving one of his hands down lower, bunching up the hem of her dress. She brings a hand up to his hair, her other one lacing with the fingers on her hip, and he asks a low “can I fuck you?”
This isn’t a fetish thing, it’s really not, it’s just that Spencer’s girlfriend is really hot, and he’d like to have sex with her in the hour they have before they need to leave for soundcheck.
Ryan looks up at him through her eyelashes again, would probably be biting her lip if it wasn’t for the lipstick, and nods.
Spencer fucks her against the wall. At first he was going to go to the bed, he really was, but then she was just fucking standing there, her fingers at the hem of her dress, staring down at his dick, (her favorite, because he loves her,) and he couldn’t really help himself. They both wind up covered in lipstick, which is actually really fucking hot, and Spencer thinks that skirts are awesome, seriously, because they make this entire thing a lot more efficient. Ryan makes a surprised little sound as Spencer picks her up by the back of her thighs, but she also looks distinctly pleased about it as she wraps her arms around his neck, trusting him to support her weight.
Afterwards, when they have to get cleaned up to face the outside world, Ryan grins at the massive lipstick mark on Spencer's neck, but she also dutifully cleans it off with makeup wipes before they leave.
----------
“I want to tell the guys today,” Ryan tells the wall one morning when they’re laying around in her bunk. Spencer was close to falling back asleep when she said it, so all he manages to respond with is a questioning sort of humming noise against the back of her neck. “I’m tired of sleeping in boxers,” she says, like it pains her, and Spencer tightens his arm around her waist sympathetically. He gets it. She doesn’t need to explain it to him.
“You know how you want to do it?”
“I don’t know,” she sighs, still staring at the wall. “It feels weird to be dramatic about it, you know? Especially because they know about you, so it’s not like I’m the first trans person they’ve ever met.”
“That’s true.”
“So I don’t know why I’m still nervous,” she admits, softer.
“The first time is always the hardest,” Spencer tells her, knowingly. “Every time after that it gets a lot less scary, I promise.” He pulls her back against his chest a little further, and she curls in on herself further. “You just have to get this one out of the way, you know? Like ripping the bandaid off.”
She nods, reaching down to lace their fingers together. “Like ripping the bandaid off.”
“You want to practice?” Spencer asks after a pause, sitting up a little so he can prop his head up on her shoulder. She turns to look at him skeptically, and he says “it’s easier once you’ve said it out loud more.”
She rolls fully onto her back, blinking up at him. “I’m trans,” she says, putting a little too much force behind it for it to sound as casual as she’d probably like, and Spencer smiles down at her as he moves a hand to her side. She brings her hands to the back of his neck, fidgeting with the hairs there like she often does when she’s nervous, and repeats “I’m trans,” with a lot more honest conviction this time.
Spencer leans down to kiss her, and she makes kind of a surprised noise, but he can feel her smiling against his mouth after a second. He pulls back just a little, still smiling, and she asks a soft “what was that for?” as she leans further into him, bringing both her knees up in the tiny space of the bunk so that they knock against his side.
“Cause I love you,” he shrugs, dipping his hand down under her back so he can pull her in by the waist. She loves it when he holds her like that, he can tell. “I’m so lucky. You’re like the prettiest girl ever.” It sounds silly and juvenile, but Spencer kind of loves saying things like that to her for that reason. It sort of feels like they’re starting their relationship over in some ways, because they get to do a bunch of stupid stereotypical ‘boyfriend/girlfriend’ shit for the first time, and, fuck it, Spencer loves that shit. He loves opening the door for her, and pulling her chair out and giving her his jacket when she gets cold. It’s not like he’s never done any of that before, obviously, because they’ve been together since they actually were stupid teenagers doing awkward courting rituals, but it feels different now. It’s different when he’s doing it because he’s expected to, as the man. Fuck the patriarchy and everything, and heteronormativity, but Spencer thinks using it to the effect of making him and his transgender girlfriend feel gender euphoria cancels out any problematic undertones.
Ryan says “shut up,” as she grins up at him, laughing, and he raises his eyebrows suggestively.
“Make me.”
Once they manage to make themselves look presentable after some rather acrobatic bunk sex, (although, all bunk sex is acrobatic, really, since there’s not enough room in there for it to be anything else,) they make their way out to the lounge. Ryan still looks nervous, but probably less than she would have had she not just gotten off, because that always tends to relax her. (And, alright, maybe that was kind of part of Spencer's plan all along, because he’s the best boyfriend ever.)
Ryan shifts on her feet, twisting her fingers together in that way she always does when she’s nervous, as she looks between Jon and Brendon, sitting at the table eating breakfast. They both turn to look at her, raising their eyebrows expectantly, and she blurts out “I’m a woman,” so quickly that all the words run together and it’s barely comprehensible. They both blink at her for a second, mostly trying to process what the fuck she even said.
“Uh, alright. Do you want poptarts?” Brendon holds the box up, shaking it a little for emphasis, and Ryan nods. She sits down on the very end of the weird L-shaped bench at the table, hunching over a little and scratching at the side of her face uncomfortably. Brendon passes her the box.
“Do you want us to call you something else?” Jon asks around a mouthful of food.
“No, Ryan is still fine, just… Ryan, who is a girl.”
“Alright, ‘Ryan, who is a girl,’” Brendon says, looking pleased with himself. “Are you coming out with the academy boys tonight?”
“Uh, I don’t know. Spence? Are we going?”
“You can go out on your own, you know. Despite all outward appearances, we’re actually not physically tied together,” Spencer jokes as he sits down next to Ryan, nudging her with his hip until she shoves over. She still seems a little uncomfortable, but not very. Spencer thinks it’s probably just the threat of an emotional conversation that’s worrying her at this point, not the idea that either of their friends will react badly. She's a girl, sure, but she’s got that eldest/only daughter stoicism thing going on, so she’s still not great at talking about feelings or being emotionally vulnerable.
“You’re the worst boyfriend ever,” she deadpans, playfully before stealing his Redbull.
“Am not!” he scoffs.
“Yikes, Spence.” Jon grins at him across the table. “You should try buying her flowers. Chicks like flowers.”
Ryan smiles as she looks down, her hair falling in her face, and the Redbull can makes a metallic sort of clinking sound as she fiddles with the tab. Spencer grins at Jon across the table, trying to convey his approval. Jon’s always been good with this stuff. He nods like he knows he’s the best. He fucking is, he can have that.
She looks up at Spencer when he drapes an arm over her shoulders, and says “I like roses.” She keeps batting her eyelashes at him, because he’s got a thing for her eyes and she knows it, and Spencer kisses her quickly, not trying to get wolf-whistled by Brendon, (again.)
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
----------
Pete comes to see them at the next show, and Ryan, in her usual strange, matter-of-fact way, decides to come out to him backstage afterwards. They’re all sitting around backstage after showers, just hanging out, basically. Ryan is perched on the armrest of the couch, her legs crossed at the knee, and Spencer’s hand on her waist, when Pete says something offhand to Brendon, somewhere along the lines of “Ryan isn’t the easiest to share a bathroom with, is he?”
“It’s ‘she,’” Ryan says simply, flipping some hair out of her eyes. “Still Ryan, but ‘she.’”
Pete, to his credit, only looks confused for about three seconds as he looks Ryan up and down, before saying “yeah, that makes sense.” Spencer snorts, because it does make sense, and it has for a long ass time. Pete has kind of hinted at thinking that Ryan is a girl for a while, and much less delicately than Spencer, so it’s not an unexpected reaction from him.
“What?” Ryan asks, elbowing him in the side.
“I just think it’s funny how everyone knew before you,” Spencer shrugs, and Ryan scoffs, offended. She also squeaks as Spencer grabs her by the waist, pulling her down to sit on his lap.
“Oh, fuck off,” she says, hiding her face in his neck. “I knew before you, too.”
“You did?” Spencer asks, pulling back to stare at her. The conversation in the rest of the room seems to have moved on without them, which is just as well, because Ryan being a girl is old news for everyone there, so there’s really no point in dwelling on it.
“You’ve been my boy best friend forever, Spence,” she tells him. “Ever since I traded you my trucks for your barbies.”
“Oh, god, we are such a stereotype, aren’t we?” Spencer laughs, tightening his arms around her waist.
“Maybe a little,” She admits, smoothing down his collar with careful fingers. Spencer grins up at her, all dumb and sappy like always, and she rolls her eyes before leaning down to kiss him.
“Uh, guys?” Pete asks. They both turn back to him. “You’re, like, straight, which means I get to call you gross now without getting accused of homophobia, so… gross,” he says, clearly trying not to grin.
“Transphobia, Pete,” Ryan argues, wrapping her arms around Spencer’s neck and leaning her head on his shoulder to look at Pete. “This actually means you get to call us gross even less.”
“Nuh, uh,” Brendon says with his own shit-eating grin. “This so makes you more gross. Girls have cooties.”
Ryan flips them off, but she doesn’t manage to suppress a grin when Spencer kisses her on the cheek. He doesn’t give a fuck if she has cooties.