Leon Orcot (under_arrest) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2015-10-09 12:31:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !complete, leon orcot, revy |
Who: Leon and Revy
What: Dude looks like a lady.
When: During the genderswap plot
Where: Very briefly a bra, then Revy's place.
Warnings/Status: Language. Leon checks himself out in the bathroom?
Status: Complete.
The one consolidation with waking up as a girl the day before was the knowledge that it was probably temporary. A week as a woman was maybe not ideal, but at least he could hole up in his apartment and pretend to be sick. He was capable of that. He’d probably go a little stir crazy, but there was no reason he couldn’t tough it out.
The last person Leon had wanted to find out was Revy. And of course she had because he apparently had an uncanny ability to dig whatever hole he was standing in deeper. He definitely didn’t want Revy to see him as a woman, but part of him suspected that it would only be worse if he didn’t let her. Maybe she’d track him down and show up at his doorstep or something. Besides, even holing up for most of the day before had managed to make him feel a little antsy. He didn’t do well with just sitting in his apartment reading or watching kids shows on Netflix. And he was almost out of booze, and it wasn’t like he could send Chris down to the corner store to pick that up for him.
He wasn’t lying when he said that his clothes mostly still fit him. His jeans were a little too small, though he managed to button them up and that was all that mattered. And his shirts were maybe a little too big, but he didn’t exactly want to wear something form fitting right now anyway. Besides, his t-shirt was covered up by a heavy, brown, canvas outback jacket, the collar pulled up to his ears. To complete his very fashionable ensemble, he wore a Dodgers baseball cap pulled low over his eyes and a pair of thick, black shades.
“Well, here I am,” Leon muttered as he approached Revy. “Happy?”
Woooooooooooooooooow.
Well, Revy didn’t actually think he (or, technically, she) would come out in public with the new body. That giant stick lodged up his ass made the fucker particularly stubborn, so when he she claimed she was going to stay at her place, with the ‘flu,’ then that’s where ex-con would expect Leon to stay until everything went back to normal.
Really, though, she hadn’t recognized her buddy right away - but she blinked at the sight of the overly-clothed lady that stepped through the doors, then bliiiiiiiiiiiiiinked when she was approached, greeted with a voice a couple notches much to feminine.
Appropriately, Revy cackled.
“LET ME SEE!” was her screech, all while she had a cigarette burning between her fingers and tried to pry the hat from Leona’s head.
“No! No, fuck off!” Leon cried, attempting to fight her off, although his hat was knocked off in the struggle. Once he lost the hat, he spared a glance around and saw that they were drawing attention to themselves. “Okay! Okay! You win, fuck,” Leon said, and he took off his sunglasses, blushing crimson. He scowled, wishing that he wasn’t so damn baby faced as a woman. He’d spent a lot of time trying to make faces in the mirror, and while he was certainly capable of looking mean and fierce, he always kind of looked a little bit cute as he was doing it.
Babyfaced was definitely one way of describing Leona here - all cute and dainty with clothes swallowing her up, dare Revy call her almost precious? Shit-eating grin in tow, she patted the empty stool next to her. “Oh my fuuuuuuuuck, come and sit. Did they card you at the fuckin’ door? They shoulda, you look like you could pass off as some cute little sorority airhead.”
Officially the best day ever. So far she had a lucky streak of avoiding all the OC clusterfuck aside from that one time her apartment disappeared into thin air - because that sucked - but Revy wouldn’t have been all that upset if she woke up with a dick to wave around. She’d pee on everything to claim territory, like a cat or something.
Leon pulled the collar of his jacket up a little more half hoping the whole thing would swallow him. “Gee, thanks,” he deadpanned, and tried to pretend that she wasn’t exactly right. What if someone did try to card him? What was he supposed to do, give them his actual ID? Was his driver’s license even valid anymore? He sat down and quickly ordered a whiskey. At least the bartender didn’t seem to recognize him.
“This is like my worst nightmare, except instead of giving some oral presentation in my underwear I’m awake and walking around with a pair of tits.” So, nothing at all like his worst nightmare, but they both kind of invoked the same feelings of ‘everyone stop staring at me.’
“Oh, please,” Revy scoffed. Cue the dramatic eyeroll once she got all comfy again, knees crossed, the undone laces of her boots dangling. “You’re looking at this all wrong. Honestly, if I woke up with man parts I’d be whacking it off out of curiosity.” Crude, but true - why not experiment, see what it was like to be as someone of the opposite sex? “Most men-turned-women are probably groping themselves or flicking their bean - maybe you should try it. Would keep you from being so uptight.”
It could be worse. The world could almost end again, or another spider could come and crash their homes. Waking up a bit different with what she assumed would be a temporary affliction wasn’t a big deal. It was actually pretty fuckin’ funny.
“I’m not uptight,” Leon snapped, as if he wasn’t wound tighter than a two dollar watch. “Anyway, there’s only so long you can play with your own tits before it starts to get old.” Which had actually come as a bit of a surprise to Leon. There was a part of Leon that knew that if this had happened to someone else and not him, he’d find it hilarious, but as things stood now it was awful.
“You’re uptight,” she insisted, her words laced with amusement and not a bit of grump - not like Leona here, who looked like she’d rather chug on rat poison. “It ain’t the worst thing though, so quitcherbitchin’. Do you need clothes? Seriously, I’m offering as a friend, so if you sass me about my booty shorts that your flat ass can’t fill, I will shove my foot so far up your ass my toes will be wiggling out of your mouth.”
Because was Leon really going to parade around in manly clothing? Really?
“I’m not-” Leon snapped his mouth shut. He was not going to get into some back and forth ‘yes you are’ ‘no you’re not’ argument with Revy. “Fine, okay, you win.” On both counts. “I guess I could do with some jeans that actually fit around these stupid hips.” Getting the button done up had been an accomplishment, but his jeans were far too tight to be comfortable walking around, and especially to be sitting in. At home he’d taken to just wearing his boxers, but that wasn’t exactly something he could get away with in public. “I’m drawing the line at booty shorts. And crop tops. I wear enough of those in my dreams as is.” He was… probably going to regret the fact that he just admitted to wearing crop tops in his dreams. Did she know he had a mullet in them? God he hoped not.
Just to be a pesky bitch, she exhaled smoke in his (her, technically) face then shoved. Playfully. “Men wearing crop tops,” she mused, a devilish glint in golden-brown eyes. “Your dreamself has issues, y’know that?” Especially with the, ah, hard on for the villain in them but heeeey, she wouldn’t give him too much shit about it like usual. Leon had a cooch and rack and was going through a feminine meltdown, she’d cut her (TEE HEE) some slack.
Anyway, she paid her tab with crumpled cash and grabbed the blonde by the arm. “C’moooon, let’s get you out of the public eye. We’ll have a girl’s night or the fuck ever, and I’ve got free beer at home.” And that’s where her clothing was anyway; she’d let Leona here pick whatever tickled her fancy, maybe a bra or two because those chest puppies were going to need some support.
“Just occasionally awful fashion sense,” Leon sighed, because obviously his large collection of t-shirts with weird designs on them was the epitome of fashionable. “I think that was a fad in like, the 80s, but I dream of the 90s. I think my dream self is just perpetually stuck in the fucking 80s.”
“Oh goodie,” Leon deadpanned. “We can paint each other’s fucking nails and everything.” That’s what happened on girl’s nights, right? Nail painting and gossiping about boys and underwear clad pillow fights. Still, he’d be glad to get out of the public eye. He pulled his cap back over his head and his sunglasses over his eyes before he allowed Revy to drag him out of the bar. “Beer sounds like a fucking godsend though. You’d better have a lot of it.”
Revy’s vehicle was a shitty mustang falling apart from the seams, but was still driveable - everything was technically solid beneath the hood, but it lacked the aesthetics. Beat up, dented with a couple parts hanging, and there was a set of fuzzy handcuffs and an air freshener in the shape of the middle finger hanging from the rearview mirror. “I’ll paint the everloving shit out of your nails, Leona, don’t you worry,” she cackled, unlocking the doors so both of them could slide in. Cramped space, low to the ground. “And of fucking course I have a lot of it, have you met me? Put your seatbelt on, ya bitch, before one of your buddies pulls us over.”
Really, Revy didn’t have nail polish anyway. Her apartment was set up more like a bachelor pad and lacked the obvious feminine touch - it was riddled with weapons carried from the dreams, the bloodied pillow was stuffed in a bag under her bed, and Steve’s tank was by the window. Regularly cleaned too because rat piss stunk, and she had to give the furry little guy a bath because he’d been all scabby and matted.
“I don’t know how chicks wear fucking seatbelts,” Leon muttered, though he agreed to her request, just making sure to put the shoulder strap behind him. He’d probably still get in shit if they got pulled over for improper seat belt use, but he’d cross that bridge if they came to it.
“You have a permit for these weapons?” Leon asked as he looked around. Obviously not, since he suspected a number of them came from the dreams, and he wasn’t going to arrest her for something like unintentionally getting metaphysical weaponry, but the question was out before he could stop it. It wasn’t a bad place really, and it was a helluva lot cleaner than Leon’s apartment. “Steve’s sure looking better than the last time I saw him.”
“Do you ever stop thinking like a cop?” Really? Was that the first thing this douchebag asked? Because the answer was no, she didn’t have a fucking permit for ‘these weapons.’ “I came here to hang out as a friends with pairs of tits, jerkoff, not to have my place examined by someone who’s still clearly dying to put his goddamn cuffs on me.”
Steve made squeaky noises, little pink digits clawing at the glass. It was a studio apartment - everything was basically One Big Room with a couple things that divided it. Old brick, chipped paint, it wasn’t the most luxurious place but it was function and the bitch could afford it - ‘nuff said. “Anyway.” A motion over to her closet right before she fished in the fridge for the beers. “Clothes are right over there. You, uh, need a bra? Wait, no, of course you’re going to need a bra, lookit that rack. You might even be bigger than me.”
“No,” Leon answered honestly. His entire life before Chris had shown up had revolved around being a cop. Now that he was making an effort to make friends that weren’t cops (even if the resounding majority of his friends were either currently cops or former cops) he was realizing that was a bit of a problem. “I’m not trying to arrest you, Revy. If I was, you’d know.” He told D nearly every day about how he’d eventually cuff him. “You already did your time.”
Leon blushed deeply at her asking if he needed a bra, and then went to self consciously cross his arms across his chest. “Bras aren’t necessary, are they?” he asked, doing a remarkably good job at not yelling. He headed over to the closet to look through Revy’s clothes, feeling more than a little awkward about the whole thing, and especially awkward at the possibility of digging through Revy’s undergarments for a bra. “Lots of girls don’t wear bras. Wet t-shirt contests wouldn’t be nearly as much fun if they did.”
He probably didn’t mean it as a slight, but the words ‘you already did your time’ somehow sounded like condescending garbled shit. Revy squinted at Leon’s newly changed self, middle finger so tempting to rise, but she behaved. Handed him, her, whatever, a beer, too.
“You have no fuckin’ clue what it’s like to live life with tits, do you,” she smirked. More of a statement, not a question, because he obviously didn’t. “Those puppies are gonna need support, you don’t want them to start sagging while you got ‘em, do you?” Now, Leona didn’t have to dig around her undergarment drawer - Revy would do it for him, shamelessly, and she pulled the the drawer in question out to sift through it. Her collection was surprisingly of good taste; most of them silky, dark-colored, occasionally with patterned lace, strapped and strapless. She pulled one out, a deep shimmery indigo, and tossed it on his head. “Go on. Try it.”
Leon really hadn’t meant anything as a slight, and since, for once, he hadn’t meant to be insulting he took a beer and didn’t think anything about the squint before taking a long pull from the bottle, chugging back nearly half of it. He pulled a pair of jeans from her closet, hoping they’d fit because he doubted she had multiple sizes of pants. Leon had to believe in the system, because if he didn’t his job was more or less useless. Criminals went into con college, and came out productive members of society. Just because he kept arresting the same people over and over again didn’t mean that the system was broken, just that there was something else broken in their lives. Revy’d done her time and there was no reason for Leon to think she was going to break the law again.
Leon pulled the bra off his head, face a little red, and held it daintily, a strap pinched between his index finger and his thumb in both hands. He’d obviously touched bras before, he’d even taken a few off in his time, but he’d never had to put one on. Let alone on himself. “It’s uh… a very nice bra,” Leon said, clearing his throat a little uncomfortably. A lot nicer than what he’d expect Revy’s bras to look. He wondered if what she was wearing now was this nice, and quickly attempted to banish the thought, somehow managing to turn even redder. “Where’s the uh… bathroom?”
His discomfort didn’t go unnoticed, and Revy was practically feeding off it - too fucking funny, for real. She huffed a laugh, chugged down a couple gulps of trusty crisp Heineken and motioned over towards the bathroom - the door between the ‘kitchen’ and what was supposed to the bedroom/living room area. “Knock yourself out, princess,” she grinned, wolfishly, and reached to scoop Steve from his tank. The rodent was lazy, and seemed to like to drape around her neck.
Probably because it meant he got full view of cleavage, but Revy wasn’t the one exposed to conversing with a rat while shitfaced.
Leon didn’t say anything to her princess comment, but he did shoot her a venomous glare and flipped her off as he went into the bathroom. It was a perfectly reasonable request to get changed out of the sight of other people.
He was in there for longer than it should take anyone to change. The jeans actually fit surprisingly well, and he’d managed to put on the bra after a few minutes of fumbling with the damn thing and cursing under his breath (he’d almost considered calling in Revy for help, but there was no way he was going to get defeated by a piece of fabric and some little metal clasps). Then he’d checked himself out in the mirror for a little while because huh, he was kind of hot wearing the bra. He’d definitely tap that. If it wasn’t him. And if he had his normal body. And if he could get over how damn weird it was. He … probably wouldn’t be able to get over how weird it was, and thinking about it was making his head spin a little, so he stopped thinking about it and instead entertained himself for a moment by squishing his breasts together for cleavage and making sultry faces at himself. Then he slipped on his shirt and headed back out.
“I’m kind of hot, you know,” he said, and then noticed Steve perched on Revy’s shoulder. Thankfully, he looked like a rat which Leon was definitely glad about. “Hey Steve. How’ve you been enjoying the company?” he asked Revy, since Steve probably wasn’t going to give him any answers just yet that weren’t squeaks.
Steve’s pink little nose and flimsy whiskers wiggled, sniffing at his general direction - which could mean possible recognition, who the fuck knew. He’d been her new buddy. Made the place feel less lonely, and pets (even rats) were oddly therapeutic. Having the damn thing as company helped when the dreams were getting weird on her, though she didn’t know if that was a good thing or depressing as fuck.
Revy was cross-legged on her papasan chair and she looked surprised at Leon. Blink. Bliiiiiiiiiiink. Blinkblink. “Damn.” Another sip of her beer before sizing Leona up. “You can almost make me bat for the other team. Almost. Take that as a compliment,” she snickered. “You can borrow those, by the way. Obviously I want ‘em back when you magically grow your dick again, unless you think bras and chick jeans are a nice way of life for you.”
Leon practically preened under the compliment, standing up straighter and holding his head a little higher. “I don’t know how else someone would take that if not a compliment,” Leon said. Maybe, maybe this wasn’t so bad after all. He still would be mortified if he ran into anyone from work, but Revy finding out wasn’t nearly as humiliating as he thought it would be. He soured a little at her next comments though. “Yeah, crossdressing doesn’t really float my boat.”
It occurred to him, maybe a little belatedly, that Revy probably deserved a thank you, and so, a little grudgingly, he said, “Thanks.” And then realized that didn’t sound entirely genuine. “I mean it. For the clothes, and the beer.”
Oh my fuck, she noticed the bit of pride when it came to those newly discovered (and, well, temporary) feminine wiles, and Revy did not suppress that shit-eating grin. Really, he had a good body as a woman - might as well embrace it while he had it, walk a mile in their shoes (lucky him if he did need shoes, she didn’t own heels). She raised her beer. “Looking after my fuckin’ people, is all.”
Whether she meant it as ‘you’re a woman now and one of us’ or ‘you’re actually someone I sort of like so I guess I’ll have your back,’ who the fuck knew, but she was good with vague for now.