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Stupid, Jax thinks to himself.
This is stupid. This is terrible . Why did this even cross his mind? Why did Gangle have to put him in that fucking maid outfit? Damn pile of ribbons, she must’ve been conspiring against him. She knew this was gonna lead to him locking himself in the bathroom at God knows what hour in the morning, adjusting the spiked belt keeping his pleated leather skirt up to just the right tightness. Squeezing his pawed feet into a pair of shiny high-heeled boots. Fixing the collar of his jacket in the mirror, unzipped and unbuttoned, displaying a brilliant scarlet tube top underneath with his chest fluff poking out from the hem. A showcase of himself, for himself. Absolutely no one else. He’d rather die than let that repeat.
It had been humiliating, emasculating, terrible, needing to strut around in that goddamn maid dress for well over an hour, on display for the other players, his stupid clone, turned into a total laughingstock. Because what man wears a dress, right? Fuck. Whatever cursed him into thinking the dress actually felt nice? The frilly skirt, the tight stockings, he wore that thing damn well if he did say so himself. So why did it have to be ruined by people actually seeing him in it? It’s been a week and the incident still hasn’t left his mind. The others don’t talk about it in front of him, but he’s sure they still gossip amongst themselves at every opportunity he isn’t around. Haha, remember when Gangle made Jax wear a maid outfit and he got super pissy over it?
Because what man wears a dress, right?
He does a spin around to admire his handwork - not a girly spin one or anything, he’s not taking this that far - and his cheeks grow red. Both in embarrassment, and contentment. It…it feels good. It’s been a while since he ever did something like this, the last instances he can recall are sneaking into his sister’s wardrobe to try on her prom outfit. It was a simple thing, a loose-fitting azure dress that stopped just above the knees, embroidered with sequins that made the frills sparkle with his movement. It had been a habit he had long since eased into by that point, in complete secret of course - his sister would obviously flip on him if she discovered he’d been trying on her things, and the area they lived in was never too kind to people who…swing that way, so to speak. Both him and his sister moved out shortly after that, and there’s no way in hell he would be caught dead shopping for women’s clothes by himself, so his gateway to indulge in his filthy little secret all but disappeared. And it was probably for the best.
Because what man wears a dress, right?
He poses for himself, leather and soft fabric constricting around his faux-fur. He accidentally smudges a bit of his mascara as he raises his arm up, but it’s a small error. He still looks damn good. Scratch that, he looks fucking fantastic. He should pat himself on the back for this, he outdoes Ragatha in leaps and bounds with this. He’d rub it in her face, but - no, no, absolutely not. No one is seeing him like this. This is for him and him alone.
And it’s a damn good present to himself.
“Well, who’s this handsome devil?” Jax says to his mirror self in sing-song, throwing a smirk at himself as he props his chin up on the back of his hand. “Oh, me~? Aw, I’m flattered. You’re right, I do look great in this thing.”
Maybe he’s emotionally repressed.
…Nah.
Jax brings his other hand up to his face, pretending to examine nails that aren’t there. “Oh, if only the others could see me now. Dolled up and eating every bit of it. ” He snickers, eyeing himself in the mirror again. “They’d be s—ing bricks, wouldn’t they, hot stuff? The look on Ribbons’ face would be priceless , I’d love to see her whole world shatter when she realizes it turned out she did me a favor - ”
The door swings open.
Pomni stands dead still in the doorframe, eyes widened to the size of sauce plates.
Jax stares.
“Am I interrupting someth - ”
“HOLY S—T GET THE F—K OUT NOW OUT OUT OUT OUT - ”
Pomni can only react with a surprised grunt as Jax starts shoving her back into the hallway, a string of curses and threats following him as he does so. Pomni resists, trying to push Jax away, and despite how much he’s swarming her she’s able to put up a good fight. “Okay, okay, Jesus, the door was unlocked, I didn’t think anyone was - ”
“OUT. OF THE F—KING BATHROOM,” Jax hisses, giving Pomni a final push into the hallway before slamming the door shut. He neglects to even lock it, just falling against it back-first and slumping to the ground. His hands cup his face and he groans - in exhaustion, in embarrassment, in fear, he doesn’t know.
She’s gonna tell the others. What’s he gonna do when she tells the others?
There’s a pause, before Pomni’s muffled voice passes through the door again. “I still need to get in there.”
Jax tosses his head back in frustration. “ Why?! We don’t even need to use the bathroom, Caine just put these here for the aesthetic!”
“I need a towel. I went to get a drink in the kitchen and the pipes burst. Somehow,” Pomni explains.
“So go use the paper towels in the kitchen and leave! ”
“Those are set dressing! They don’t even work!”
“THEN GO TO ANOTHER BATHROOM!”
“THIS IS THE ONLY BATHROOM WE HAVE!”
Jax swears under his breath and presses himself up against the door further. No way in hell Pomni’s coming into this bathroom.
“I swear to God if you tell anyone this…”
He trails off, because truthfully, he can’t think of a significant threat he would actually carry out on Pomni. Because she’s not worth the time, is all. She’s just a pathetic little crybaby. Not because he cares, not in the least.
…Maybe a little.
There’s a beat of silence, before Jax can hear footsteps, heading away from the door and down the hallway until they’re completely inaudible. This is it. She’s gonna tell anyone. He’s gonna be the Circus laughingstock for the rest of all their pathetic existences. Maybe he should drown her. Or get a hammer and slam her over the head with it, maybe that’ll induce short-term amnesia? The dorms are a bit away from the bathroom, he still has time.
He doesn’t budge. For minutes on end.
He was probably bound to get found out eventually. Everyone hates him enough as is, what’s one more thing to add to the pile?
The footsteps return some - five, ten, fifteen minutes later? He lost track of time - only one pair, that’s unmistakably Pomni’s. There’s a knock at the door. He doesn’t flinch. Another knock. Still nothing. Jax hears the creak of the door and a pressure at his back as Pomni tries prying it open - he plants himself as firm as he can on the ground, tries to push back as hard as he can ( why didn’t he just lock the damn door? ), but goddammit, why is this nervous wreck who worked as an accountant before she was dragged into this mess so damn strong?
Pomni wedges herself between the door and its frame, keeping it forced open as she begins squirming her way inside. Jax keeps his eyes locked on his folded-up knees, a deathly scowl on his face, until he catches Pomni out of the corner of his eye. Her leg, specifically - now clad in deep blue dress pants and matching slacks. His eyes narrow. That’s her president uniform. She kept it? Why the hell did she change into it?
“Uh…hey, dude.”
Jax looks up to shoot her a glare, faltering slightly when his suspicions are confirmed - she has, honest to God, for some reason, decked herself out in a full suit.
“…Why the hell are you wearing that,” Jax questions, completely deadpan.
Pomni’s lips purse into a frown. “You’re, uh, really not as good at hiding your emotions as you think you are.” She scans him up and down, and Jax feels like he’s stripped bare and undergoing a medical examination. He curls himself up, trying not to give Pomni an ounce of satisfaction in gawking at his outfit. “You don’t look half bad in that thing.”
“P—s off.”
Pomni scowls. “I’m serious. I mean, I’m not an expert or anything, but you put that outfit together pretty well.” Her face softens, eyebrow quirked up in puzzlement. “I mean, I am surprised. With how you reacted with the whole maid dress thing I kinda thought - ”
Jax snaps, whipping his head up to glare daggers into her as he grits his teeth. “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realize being forced into a dress against your will for people to mock you is the same thing as doing it willingly for nobody else but you to see, you’re right, I did overreact!” He snarls, turning away from her again. He can’t stand to look at those giant, pitying eyes of hers.
“Th-that’s not what I - ” she stops herself, glancing to the floor as she squeezes her arm in discomfort. “Okay, well - yeah, I guess it could’ve come across that way. Sorry about that. I just figured that, y’know…it wasn’t just the humiliation thing.”
Jax grimaces, tucking his knees under his chin. “It was humiliating, Pomni. F—king horrible. ”
“I never said that it wasn’t.”
He snaps his head back up at her, gesturing down the length of his body. “I mean, f—king look at this! What self-respecting guy ever dresses up like this?! It ruins the aura! It’s emasculating! How do people actually go around like this in public?! It’s horrible, I feel sick even with just you looking at me right now - ”
Pomni furrows her brow. “You do know cross-dressing isn’t, like…some irredeemable sin or something, right?”
Jax scoffs. “Real classy telling that to the guy who grew up in the Bible Belt.”
Pomni crosses her arms, sighing defeatedly. “Well, we’re not exactly in the Bible Belt right now. Pretty sure the majority of us here are kinda emotionally repressed gaya—es. I’m not saying you need to become, like, our resident drag performer or anything, or even tell anyone else, if you don’t want to, but you’re not alone here.”
“Then explain why everyone thought it was oh so hilarious I was forced into a maid dress.”
“Because it was a maid dress, and everyone thinks you suck, and thought it would be funny if you had to wear something embarrassing. I think you’d’ve gotten the same reaction if you were put into, like, a clown outfit or something,” Pomni states flatly. “If you came out wearing this, something you put on yourself, something you enjoy wearing, I doubt anyone would think twice. I mean, I’m sure you’d get some surprised reactions at first, but I don’t think anyone has the energy to care about what you choose to wear for yourself.”
Jax narrows his eyes at her. “Again. You have some balls to be saying that to the guy who grew up having a fanatical ‘all gays will burn in hell for eternity’ preacher for an uncle.”
“I worked as an accountant for a supermarket in Georgia! ” Pomni rebuttals, pulling on the hems of her jacket to better show the button-up and business tie underneath. She wears it well, admittedly. Is this what she sees with him? Was she telling the truth? That he looks good in this? “Do you know how many looks I got for dressing like this? How much I was told I was weird for liking dress pants and suits over skirts and a short-sleeve button-up? That my bosses were mad they couldn’t ogle me because I ‘ looked too much like a man ’? I mean, nobody in my family was crazy, but you can’t go claiming I don’t know anything about how you’re feeling. Because I do . And…”
She pauses, taking in a deep breath. Sympathy sparkles in her eyes. God, Jax hates that look. A reminder of human connection, one that he wants to bask in. “I know how much it hurts.”
Jax squeezes his knees, tension rising in his rig. “Why are you doing this? Stop trying to turn this into some feel-good bonding session.”
“Never said that’s what I was trying to do,” Pomni says, sitting on the floor in front of him, legs crossed and arms lazily draped over her lap. “I’m here because I don’t like seeing people in pain, not even you. You don’t need to tell anyone this, if you don’t want to. If you’re only comfortable keeping this as a private thing, I get that, and I swear my lips are sealed.” She punctuates her sentence with a sigh. “But I’m also sick of you thinking everyone’s out to get you. Because the only reason you even think that is because you like stirring s—t up and take retaliation as a personal offense. So I need you to get a f—king grip.”
Jax is about to retort, but can’t, for whatever reason. His frustration still bubbles within him, but he can’t help but feel his shoulders grow lighter at Pomni’s words. It’s more than Ragatha’s relentless positivity ever did for him, at the very least.
Having someone who relates to him is a terrifying feeling, but…not necessarily a bad one.
Pomni keeps it real. He likes that about her.
“No promises,” Jax insists, trailing off for a moment in contemplation. “But…thanks.”
Pomni smiles a little. “I did mean what I said. That outfit really suits you.”
Jax’s lips grow thin, before he brings himself to smirk, ever so slightly.
“It does, doesn’t it?” he says, unfurling his legs so Pomni can get a better look at his top half. He tugs at the hem of his skirt, metal spikes clinking with the movement. “Found these stashed in an old closet earlier. Dunno if they’re just assets Caine forgot about or what but I wasn’t gonna let ‘em go to waste. This thing f—ks.”
“Better than those overalls, at the very least.”
“Oh, God, don't even bring that up,” Jax rolls his eyes. “I dunno what decides what our avatars look like but whatever it was had it out for me, got plunked in this thing and now I’m reminded every waking hour of dying of heat stroke while shoveling cow s—t.”
Pomni’s nonexistent nose crinkles, partially in disgust and partially in amusement. “ Ugh. Jeez, your life was f—ked before you even got here.”
“Don’t even get me started.”
He got started anyway.
So there they were, two losers decked out in drag venting to each other about their shitty human lives on the bathroom floor at two-something in the morning.
All things considered? Not that bad a way to spend time.
By the time Pomni finally leaves with the towel, the kitchen’s completely flooded.