Follows Sly 3. Ignores Thieves in Time. Starts pretty canon-compliant, but then, well...you'll see.

Carmelita slammed her apartment door behind her, thrust the key into the lock and twisted it so violently it almost broke, threw the package she'd been carrying onto one of her armchairs so hard the latter jolted back a full foot, then slumped into the other, hands clutching her face as she fought to hold in hot, angry tears.

When, little more than a minute later, a soft thump sounded from her balcony, her anger flared further, her teeth gritting, her hand going for her shock pistol. At the sight of the all-too-familiar silhouette standing behind the gently rustling curtains that covered the open balcony door, no trace of its normal cocksure swagger visible, she faltered.

Then sighed, sagging. "Probably not a good time, Ringtail."

"I know you've had a rough day, Inspector." Sly's voice was markedly softer than usual, with an edge of something hard to define. "I'm just here to lend an ear, if you want one."

Carmelita lilted her head, then beckoned him gently. "You know, that actually sounds quite good, right now."

The curtains parted as Cooper stepped inside, wearing his usual outfit but not his usual demeanour. Quiet and focused, he drew to a halt half a dozen feet from her, hands tidily behind his back, eyes regarding her with open concern. "When you're ready, Inspector."

Carmelita pointed out the package. "I've had a gift. From one of my colleagues. Clothing."

Sly's gaze hardened. "I'm assuming it's not a trouser suit?"

"Take a look."

The raccoon moved to the package, and opened it. Inside he found a dark blue bra top that looked uncomfortably small, a tight miniskirt of the same hue, and tiny red thong underwear. His tail flared. "This has to be a bad joke. Who would ever...?"

Carmelita's gaze fell, expression darkening. "The kind of person who thinks it acceptable to try and grab me every chance he gets. The kind of person who keeps trying to kiss me no matter how many times I tell him no. The kind of person who believes he can have me wearing that getup by the end of the week."

Sly turned to her, muzzle writhing. "How, exactly?"

"He has the ear of the Chief, and I'm...not exactly in their favour right now, not after...well..."

Sly nodded slowly, ears wilting. "I know." Then pulled himself up. "So, we need to think of a way to persuade the chief not to make you wear that cliché street walker costume..."

The vixen regarded him curiously. "We?"

"If you think I'm not going to do all I can to help..."

"Why?" Carmelita persisted.

Sly's gaze faltered, briefly, then returned to her as he slipped his mask off. "I have a lot to make up for, and this seems a good place to start."

Carmelita regarded him in expressionless silence for quite some time, then a small, faintly wry smile grew. "What does it say that a low-down dirty thief is showing me more respect than two of my colleagues?"

"That you should get new colleagues?" Sly allowed himself a flash of humour. "And I'm really not sure I'm that much better."

The vixen softened. "You're trying. That counts for a lot." She took a breath, then straightened up in her chair. "I have a few ideas. I could threaten to resign, but that's risky; the Chief might actually let me. Or, I could insist I won't wear the outfit unless the creep does, too."

Sly let out a bark of a laugh. "I'd like to see that!"

"It'd certainly make my day," the vixen chuckled. "The other idea that comes to mind is compromising: find an outfit that's similar enough to satisfy my colleagues, but more wearable; more comfortable."

Sly nodded. "That sounds like the best one to start with. If it doesn't work out, try one or both of the others." His eyes sparked. "Or...I could sneak into the creep's home, clear out all of his clothes, and leave that outfit in their place."

Carmelita laughed, loud and long. "Tempting," she finally responded, wiping her eyes, "but no." She got to her feet. "Let's see what I have..."

Sly stood too. "Tell me when you're ready to change and..." He trailed off at the sight of her casually disrobing, eyes growing, ears stiffening.

In the few steps to her chest of drawers, the vixen was unclothed bar her choker. She looked over a shoulder at the raccoon, her expression softly teasing. "You know I'm not body-shy."

"I know, but..." Sly looked away, flustered. "It still doesn't feel right for me to see you like this. Not after..."

Carmelita opened a drawer and riffled through its contents, raising an eyebrow as her tail waved gently. "Not after what?"

"Not after how I treated you."

The vixen cocked her head. "I'm to blame too, you know. I lied to you, and to my Chief, and even, a little, to myself. When you told me your amnesia was fake, and left, I was just as angry at myself as you."

"That's only a small part of it," the raccoon responded, quietly. "I was awful to you for a very long time. All I saw was a sexy fox-girl that was fun to tease and trick and...and dream about having. Like you were a prize." His lip curled. "I stole a kiss from you, thinking myself so funny, so clever, but never once considering what you thought, what it might have done to you. I mean, what if that was your first kiss?"

"It wasn't," Carmelita answered, simply. "But it did hurt me, made me angry, though again some of it was aimed at myself. How could I ever like being kissed by a thief?"

Sly's ears coloured lightly. "You liked it?" Then he shook his head. "It doesn't matter. It was still wrong. My conscience did start to niggle at me afterwards, but I was younger and stupider, and tried my utmost to ignore it. It didn't go away, though, instead getting louder after I joked with Neyla about your dress falling off, and louder still after I used you, as a distraction and as a game, and stole a dance from you."

"Neyla told me about the dress joke," Carmelita put in. "Said it was all you, leering about me. With hindsight, it's easy to see she was playing us both, but at the time..." She turned to look at him, a small bundle of clothes in her hands. "I was ready to zap you into a cell and never let you out, but then...then you saved me."

"I was hardly going to leave you to the Contessa's tender mercies. I'd seen what she did to people." He shuddered.

"But, that wasn't the first time." The vixen started to move toward the raccoon. "Or the last. In fact, the last time, you were willing to give up your life for mine."

"Because, by that point," Sly admitted, a catch in his voice, "I'd finally realised just how much I cared for you, and had cared all along in spite of myself. That's when the guilt really kicked in."

Carmelita set her new clothes on her chair, then took up the raccoon's hand, squeezing it lightly. "I think you're being far too hard on yourself, Ringtail. Yes, you could be arrogant, and selfish, and thoughtless, but I wouldn't care for you as much as I do if that's all you were."

Sly froze, eyes wide, muzzle working but nothing coming out. Then a laugh bubbled free, his eyes lighting up. "You have no idea how much I want to kiss you right now."

She chuckled, a fond smile curling her lips, and touched a finger softly to his. "Save it. I suggest we let the past be the past, just be ourselves for a while, and see how things go."

The raccoon grinned and nodded, if nervously, closed his eyes, took a very deep breath, then rapidly shed all his clothes, setting them by the balcony. Finally, he moved to stand close to the fox again, arms across his chest. "Not a thief tonight."

Carmelita's smile widened as she removed her choker and set it to one side. "And not a cop." She cocked her head playfully. "Why so shy, Sly? I'm the one with the 'unspeakable' bits, after all." She rocked her upper torso slightly, setting her pert, shapely breasts to gently swaying from side to side in mischievous emphasis. "And I don't feel even the slightest bit ashamed."

The raccoon's anxiety only grew. "A-actually..." Their arms fell to their sides, revealing two modest, rounded swells of their own.

The vixen's dumbfounded gaze switched back and forth between the breasts and the face of their owner...then she laughed. "Now it makes sense! All of it! The never-quite-feeling-right, and the guilt and shame and nerves tonight, and the birth certificates..."

The raccoon started. "You saw the original?"

Carmelita nodded. "Once, then when I went to look at it again it had changed. Couldn't make sense of it – was one a fake, or the other, or both – but now..." She laughed again, catching up and squeezing both of the raccoon's paws. "I know this must be hard, but I promise you I'm not upset. When you're ready, I'll listen."

Cooper sighed, something of a smile twitching onto their face. "C-can we sit down, first? This'll take a while."

"Of course." The vixen relocated her clothes, settled in her chair, then guided the raccoon into sitting sideways on her lap, wrapping her arms around their hips and waist and nosing their cheek. "Take your time."

Cooper stared at her, eyes watery, then settled in. They took further breaths, then started to talk, their voice softer and higher. "I was born Selina Cooper. A girl. The thing was, I looked like a boy, all unruly fur and tomboy face, to the point my dad used to joke, despite my mom's disapproval, that I was his son, and call me Sly.

"He took particular amusement in doing it around visitors, and many never cottoned on to the truth." A wan chuckle slipped out. "Ironically enough, there was a truth I didn't cotton onto until pretty recently: dad wasn't just joking around. He'd keenly wanted a boy, to better ensure the continuation of the Cooper legacy, and was pretty disappointed to get a girl, instead. When that girl turned out to look like a boy, he just couldn't resist pretending she was one."

Carmelita gave them a light, supportive squeeze. "I can't imagine that was easy, though I doubt he meant any harm."

"Oh, he didn't. He was a wonderful father, just...carrying the weight of centuries of Coopers on his shoulders. You see, in all that time only a very few females made entries in the Thievius Raccoonus, which led him to believe a male stood a far greater chance of keeping the legacy alive. In turn, inadvertently, as he taught me all about our heritage, he made me believe it, too.

"That's why I didn't correct the orphanage owner when she assumed I was a boy. Also, I honestly enjoyed being one; it was more fun, and it felt like I could do and be a lot more." They chuckled again, more life in it this time. "Couldn't fool Bentley and Murray, though, and honestly, I was glad, as they didn't care. To them I was simply their friend Sly."

"No wonder you're so close," the vixen smiled.

"They became a new family." The raccoon's smile was warm. "Helped my confidence greatly, helped build my thieving skills, even helped me hide the changes my body went through" – they brushed their breasts, then ran a hand down their flank, smoothing the fur to reveal gentle curves – "when puberty set in."

"I think I noticed when we danced." Carmelita gave a slow, wry shake of the head. "An example of the never-quite-feeling-right I mentioned earlier. But, when most everything is screaming 'male', it's all too easy to dismiss the little details that whisper to the contrary."

Something close to a classic Cooper grin grew. "That we managed to fool someone as capable as you can only be taken as a compliment. It started with keeping my fur long, and wearing baggy clothes, and not letting anyone other than Bentley and Murray touch me, which worked well enough in the orphanage.

"When we left, though, and I decided to fully become Sly Cooper, son of Conner Cooper, the latest in a long line of master Cooper thieves, I had to up my game. I adopted the more masculine style of no pants, wore a cleverly-padded shirt, made use of the deeper voice I'd spent a long time perfecting, and played up the cockiness I already had, and it fooled everyone." They sighed, quieting. "Except me."

Carmelita softly stroked their hip, but said nothing.

"Hard as I tried, no matter what I did, up to and including binding my breasts, Selina Cooper simply wouldn't go away. Every doubting, guilty thought seemed to be in her voice, like she was my conscience. More and more I felt like I was living a lie, and that I hadn't actually earned a single thing because I'd taken the easy route."

"I'm not sure," the vixen ventured, "I'd describe all the things you've been through as 'the easy route'."

The raccoon nodded with a small, wry chuckle. "Didn't say I was being entirely rational, but it is true that Selina would have had more things to cope with than Sly did. In particular, the same kinds of things you've had to cope with, the things...the things I'm sure I made harder. That's why I'm so guilty about it all; I feel like the worst kind of hypocrite.

"What really drove it all home, though, was the Vault, specifically the section made by Henriette Cooper. She was the only female Cooper to make a Vault section – not Karin Coopergiwa, not Suzanne Cooper, not Sally Cooper, just her – and had to endure so much, including losing a hand and an eye, to earn that honour.

"So." They sat up a little more, and gazed steadily at the vixen. "Right then and there, staring at Henriette's painting, I came to a decision. If I got out of the Vault alive, I'd do better by you – faking amnesia to see what you did then running with it was a spur of the moment and failed attempt at that – and then myself. Finally be myself."

Carmelita levelled a strong gaze back. "And you know, without doubt, who that is? Identity's far more than just one thing or the other."

"I know." The raccoon, ears starting to perk and a smile beginning to spread, gave a firm, clear nod. "After I left you, and rejoined the gang, I spent a long time thinking, exploring, and talking. They were all really supportive, but Penelope in particular was fantastic; Bentley's a lucky turtle. I know exactly who I am."

"And that is?" the vixen prompted, fully attentive.

"Selina 'Sly' Cooper, daughter of Conner and Caroline Cooper, latest in a long line of master Cooper thieves, a girl who likes girls, and one girl in particular, and a passable pole-dancer." By the end she was grinning broadly, eyes shining and just a little damp. "And you have no idea how good it feels to say that."

Carmelita kissed their cheek. "Great to finally meet you, Sly."

The raccoon blushed. "Can't believe how well you're taking this."

The vixen laughed and gave them a squeeze. "You're not the only one who's been re-evaluating themselves, Ringtail. I don't think I've given you a fair chance, and right now seems like the ideal time to try." She nudged noses playfully. "So...pole-dancing?"

"My mother taught me a little," Sly explained, with an affectionately reminiscent smile. "She loved to do it and passed that passion on to me. She was also really, really good, and I'm...not. Yet."

"Sounds like me and belly-dancing; just haven't had the time to really practice."

"You belly-dance? I'd love to see that!"

Carmelita chuckled. "I think I can give you a little demonstration, but I want you to promise me some pole-dancing in return."

"Fair enough!" Sly grabbed and shook their hand, then sprang to her feet. "Give me a few days and I'll sort something out."

The vixen rose, as well. "I think I'll try out those clothes, too." She put on a dark blue sports top, a miniskirt of the same shade that was a bit shorter than the other one, but of a thin, loose fabric that rippled with her movements, and a pair of simple white scoop briefs. "I don't have any red panties, so these will have to do. How do I look?"

It took Sly a moment to find words. "Mesmerising. That skirt is..."

"The difference a little freedom makes, hm?" Fair grinning, Carmelita shimmied her hips, the fabric dancing around them.

Sly smirked. "I'm starting to think you're understating your ability."

Grin widening, the vixen began to roll and sway and flick her hips and stomach in a rhythm the raccoon found quite hypnotic. Quick and light steps carried her all the way around them, and she finally stopped with her nose less than an inch from theirs, her body elegantly curled, her arms held high, her sparkling hazel eyes staring right into their wide, lighter brown ones.

Sly's fingers twitched as her hands lifted towards the vixen, then she shook her head sharply, took a breath, and gathered up their hand to kiss the back of it. "Definitely understating your ability, mi señora."

Carmelita giggled, flapping her hand, ears reddening. "Flatterer!" Her smile turned a little impish. "I wonder if I should try another outfit...?"

The raccoon cocked her head. "What outfit?"

Carmelita grinned, then shed her skirt and briefs, setting them aside, and cocked her hips. "Yours! Think it suits me?"

Sly gazed at her, smile softening considerably. "A whole lot more than it does me."

The vixen shook her head. "Wrong there, Ringtail! You own that look, and if you were to tame that unruly fur..."

"I was seriously considering it," the raccoon admitted.

"Would you like me to help?" Carmelita offered. "I have the kit."

"What, now?"

"Got somewhere else to be?"

Sly laughed. "No. Where do we start?"

The vixen quickly dug up a clipper with multiple attachments, several brushes and combs, and a mid-sized towel. She laid the latter out on the floor, got the raccoon to stand with their legs lightly spread in the middle of it, then set to work. She started carefully, with the longest of the trimmer attachments, but, encouraged by Sly, soon swapped it for a mid-length one, running it over almost all of their body.

She left tufts at the tip of their tail and the tips of their ears, and ruffs on their cheeks, clipped the fur immediately around their mouth, eyes and nose just a little shorter, combed, brushed and hand-stroked their fur smooth, finding it impossible not to smile at the contented noises they made, then finally stepped back to take them in.

The Sly Cooper that now stood before her was sleeker, their trimmer coat flowing with their athletic curves, their face softer with sparkling eyes and warm, playful smile highlighted. Suddenly struggling to form words, Carmelita simply stared as they performed a slow, elegant twirl so she could see all of them.

When Selina fell still again, facing the vixen, she cocked her head. "Is this a good inability to speak? Or a bad inability to speak?"

Carmelita started, then bundled the raccoon to a full-length standing mirror. "See for yourself!"

Sly's jaw fell loose. Her hands felt across her face, then slid down her flanks, to rest on her hips. "I'm...I'm..." Her eyes began to water, then she span around to hug the vixen tightly. "Thank you. So much."

Carmelita returned the embrace. "Happy to help."

Selina eased back, hands on the vixen's waist, nose touching theirs, a fervour in her eyes. "Now can I kiss you?"

Carmelita, a coyly mischievous smile growing, took them by the hand and led them to her generous, plush bed. She slid on, lying back, and beckoned languorously. "I'm all yours, Ringtail."

Sly followed like she was magnetised, settling atop the vixen, her ears perked, her eyes bright. "I'm the luckiest girl alive."

The vixen laughed, then softened, caressing their cheek and the small of their back, and nuzzling their muzzle. "No. You've earned this."

"We both have." The raccoon pressed a warm kiss to the fox's lips, as her hands stroked their sides to their hips. "Is it too much to hope this is the start of something?"

"No." Carmelita dabbed small, soft kisses along their muzzle, and one of her hands drifted over their rear. "This is the start of us." She tapped their nose in playful reproach. "Now stop talking, and kiss me already."

Selina 'Sly' Cooper chuckled, grinned, covered their open muzzle with hers, and pretty soon, nothing else mattered.