Let it Flow

Stiles didn't wake up every morning wondering what kind of day it would be. People didn't work that way. Some days he just liked to put on that shirt that showed off his broad shoulders, other days she reached for the mascara and put on a light lipstick before she left for work but those days were rare. Most of the time they just threw on a hoodie, slipped into their well-worn Converse, and only cared about getting a huge cup of coffee on their way to work.

Thankfully, working as a game developer meant that they were working with the same handful of people every day so their co-workers had gotten used to them coming in more masculine or feminine on occasion. The first time she'd come in in a dress, though, Stiles had almost turned around at the door, not ready to face the looks she would get. But she'd straightened up and had walked in with the summer dress swinging around her legs. It had been a warm day and damn, the light breeze down there had felt good.

Erica had given her the thumbs up and Finstock, her boss, had muttered to himself, something about his pants sticking to his one remaining testicle and that he didn't have the legs to pull off a skirt. Stiles wasn't sure if Boyd and Isaac had even noticed that first time but they hadn't really commented on it later either.

But game developers were a different bunch anyway, especially a small indie company like theirs. Erica had several visible tattoos and had hinted that there were some not visible ones. Stiles really didn't want to think about where those might be because the hot pants and tops Erica liked to wear in the summer didn't leave many possibilities.

Boyd most likely knew where those tattoos were but he didn't kiss and tell. He didn't speak much anyway, he was more the stoic one, but when he'd shown up as Teal'c for Halloween, he'd outed himself as a nerd.

Isaac was the only other openly queer person at work. He hadn't stated his sexuality but Stiles' money was on pansexual because Isaac mentioned partners of different genders quite often. Most of the time he was complaining about their sense of fashion, though. Or the lack of said sense.

So Stiles in a dress was big news for about five seconds and then everybody went back to work. Stiles should have known because everybody had been good with the pronouns right from the beginning.

Stiles didn't have a she day that often but there were days when she just wanted to go full femme fatale.

Today was one of those days. And lucky her, it was a Saturday so she could just roll with it and didn't have to think about work tomorrow.

She dressed with care, making sure that the bra with the inlays was sitting right, she didn't want an askew cleavage. Usually, she didn't bother with tucking but today she put on the nice gaff that gave her a smooth crotch and would still look sexy if things went that far.

Then she put on that short black dress that showed off her long legs. The high heels made her legs even longer and the wig that didn't look like a wig, and had cost a fortune but was worth every cent, framed her face and enhanced the curve of her neck quite nicely.

Stiles had spent an hour in the bathroom to dress up to the nines and now she was here in the club all femme fatale, dancing with a handsome man. There was grinding involved and wandering hands and if this proceeded farther in this direction she would have to explain a thing or two but this was a queer club and chances were high that her partner was not a cis heterosexual man either. There might not be much explaining required after all.

The music was too loud for a conversation but Stiles wasn't here to talk. She let herself enjoy the music and the heat of the body pressed against hers.

She already had a few drinks, had danced with different people and there had been the offer to find a quiet corner. Apparently, her lips would look amazing wrapped around a cock but so far she had declined. Maybe if her dancing partner asked nicely. Dark hair, a nice scruff, and strong arms currently wrapped around her hip, fingertips ghosting over the swell of her butt without groping her like some kind of neanderthal. She wouldn't mind blowing him in the restroom or maybe even go home with him.

Stiles leaned in for a kiss and found the wet heat of his mouth opening up for her willingly. He slipped a knee between Stiles' legs and Stiles rolled her hips against him.

Something felt off. It took a moment for Stiles to notice but now the make-up felt like it was caking their face, they were sweating under their fake boobs, and the short hem of their dress, showing off their legs, felt too short. Too exposing.

They stopped dancing and brought as much distance between themselves and their partner as possible with his arms still wrapped around their hips. The man didn't even notice that something had changed for a long moment, he tried to close the gap between them and chased their mouth for another kiss but then he gave them a questioning look.

"Restroom!" Stiles yelled over the loud music and then they were fighting their way through the crowd to the back of the club. They felt kind of guilty for leaving him like that, a minute ago everything had pointed at a quickie in the restroom at least, maybe even more, and now Stiles just left him standing there with no intention to come back to him.

"He'll find somebody else," Stiles muttered and barged into the restroom. The man was already fading to the back of their mind, they had other problems right now. That there wasn't a stall free and that there were already three other people waiting in line for example.

Stiles let out a groan but using a stall was not what they needed to do first anyway. Mumbling excuses under their breath, Stiles made their way over to the sinks. They needed to get that make-up off their face. Now.

Stiles wetted some paper towels and started to rub their face.

"Here." The woman next to them got something out of her purse.

With water and runny mascara in their eyes, Stiles squinted at what the woman was offering. Makeup remover pads.

"You're a lifesaver." Stiles took one gratefully and wiped their eye. Most of the mascara and eye-shadow came off with that one wipe and Stiles breathed easier. "Thank you."

"No problem." She used the chance to touch up her lipstick but Stiles noticed the glance she threw them through the mirror. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Stiles rubbed the back of their head but stopped when they remembered the wig. They needed to take that off soon as well but it wasn't bothering them enough to do it now. Besides, the wig had been too expensive to just stuff it into their purse.

"I just …," Stiles started but stopped with a glance at the other people. By now the line had moved, only one other person was waiting for an open stall but another woman was on Stiles' other side, washing her hands. Everybody was glancing at them but Stiles got that they weren't judging, they were concerned.

"Usually, I don't crash this quickly," Stiles said lamely. They weren't in the mood to explain themselves but the others had been waiting for them to say something about assault so even if they didn't understand what Stiles was talking about, everybody nodded in relief.

"I'm just not in the mood for this any longer." Stiles felt the need to explain nevertheless.

Their lifesaver stayed until she was sure that Stiles was okay before she left and the second Stiles had the chance, they escaped into a stall.

They would have loved to get rid of the wig and the dress right now but that had to wait until they got home. What they did get rid of was the gaff. They didn't have another kind of underwear with them but going commando was better than tucking. Stiles already felt better with their dick hanging free.

Sitting on the closed lid of the toilet Stiles took a deep breath. They just wanted to go home. And they really didn't want to be seen like this. With the make-up gone and the wig most likely askew they must be a sight to see. Not that anybody would care about that, not at a club like this, but they still feared the looks and glances they would get. And they were still showing off more leg than they were currently comfortable with. The last thing they wanted right now was for somebody to get handsy.

Stiles used the app to get a ride home and only left the stall once they got the message that the driver had arrived at the club.

Stiles didn't want to run into their dancing partner by accident so carrying their shoes in their hand, they sneaked out the back door, passing several couples busy with doing the fast and dirty but at least that way nobody paid attention to them.

When Stiles spotted the car, they made a dash for it, scrambled into the backseat, and slammed the door shut behind them. They peered out of the window but nobody was even looking in their direction. Paranoia had gotten the better of them again but Stiles didn't care. All they wanted was to get home, get out of the dress, and slip into something comfy.

"Where to?" The driver asked.

Stiles whipped around, they'd totally forgotten that there was somebody else in the car. Stiles shifted in their seat to sit properly. As discreetly as possible they tried to tuck the hem of their dress down their legs as far as it would go.

Stiles named a corner not far from their apartment to which the driver nodded and started the car.

Their shoulders were also too bare for their liking so Stiles slung their arms around their torso and slumped deeper into their seat. The driver was glancing at them through the mirror and Stiles didn't want to know what was going on in his head. The club was frequented by queer people, the people they'd met in the restroom were a good example of how accepting the party-goes there were. But outside that community? Stiles watched the driver out of the corner of their eye and made themself even smaller.

The driver didn't say a word and he mostly kept his eyes on the street. However, Stiles couldn't shake off the feeling that the man was hyper-aware of them and was somehow analyzing them. Damn, paranoia.

At a red light, the driver twisted around. Out of reflex Stiles shied away from him. It got him another look from the man, his eyebrows drawn together in anger or concern, it was hard to tell. His jaw was working under the neat scruff, something Stiles would be able to appreciate more if they weren't currently freaking out. Their brain was still screaming wrong at their whole appearance and the fact that this stranger was studying them from under thick eyebrows was not helping.

Without breaking eye-contact the man reached for something on the passenger's seat.

"Put this on," the man said and dropped something in Stiles' lap.

A leather jacket.

For a long second Stiles just looked at the jacket in their lap but then they put it on. It covered their shoulders and their cleavage. Stiles wrapped it tight around their torso and let out a shaky breath. Not being on display any longer felt good but what also helped was the fact that the jacket was clearly not a woman's.

"I can drive you to the hospital." The man broke the silence. The car was moving again and he kept his eyes ahead. "If you need it."

"What?" Stiles scrambled into a more upright position. "Why would I …?"

But then it occurred to them how they must look like to this man.

"I'm fine," Stiles hurried to say. They were not fine, not before they had gotten out of this damn dress, but they were getting there. And for sure they were not not fine in the way the man was implying.

The man let out a grunt, not convinced.

"I swear, I'm fine." Stiles tried again, they didn't want this stranger to worry over nothing. "I just want to get home."

The man gave them another skeptical look through the mirror but in the end, he nodded and dropped Stiles off at the corner they had named.

"You going to be okay from here?" The man asked when Stiles got out of the car.

"Don't worry about me, big guy." Stiles managed a smile and it even came naturally to their lips. "It's just been a long day."

Stiles waved him off with their high heels dangling from their fingers and once the car had disappeared around the corner, they slowly walked the short distance to their apartment.

"I need a shower," Stiles decided once they were home.

Only when they started to undress, Stiles noticed that they were still wearing the leather jacket.