Work Text:
In Which Spot Conlon is the Best Fucking Husband to Ever Grace the Earth
"Morning, beautiful."
Race jumped as a strong pair of arms wrapped around his waist. "M-morning," he replied shakily.
"You're real jumpy lately. Everything okay, love?" Race sighed and tried to relax into his husband's arms.
Everything was okay! He was married to the love of his life, he adored his job as a dance teacher at a local studio, they had a cat that they spoiled rotten (affectionately named Mr. Whiskers by Race's niece), his family lived close by, they were starting to think about adopting...Yes, everything was perfect.
Except for one teeny tiny little detail...
He'd known he was trans for a while, to be honest. But he hadn't really considered coming out - or even thought about the possibility - until around a year ago.
It had taken way longer to actually decide that he was going to come out to Spot. Because he had no idea what he'd do if Spot rejected him. He didn't know if he was willing to risk it.
But here he was, about to anyway.
Race spun around in his husband's arms and pressed his face into Spot's neck.
"Can I talk to you?" he mumbled. Spot chuckled lightly.
"I can't hear ya, hon."
That was another problem. Some of the pet names were fine, like "love", but others were horribly dysphoria inducing, like "beautiful".
Race pulled away from his husband slightly. "Can I talk to you?" Here, Spot's light smile fell, replaced by a look of concern.
"Of course, always. What is it, Lar?" Race sucked in a breath. Now or never...
"I'm...not a girl?" He cringed at the way it came out like a question and looked down, avoiding Spot's gaze.
The kitchen went dead silent. Race took another step back and wrapped his arms around his stomach, shivering as he felt tears building in his eyes.
Then, Race was enveloped by his husband's arms once more. He froze at first, before relaxing into Spot's hold and breathing in his warm scent.
"Hey, hey. Okay, that's okay. I love you so much. Nothing's gonna change that. Pronouns? What should I call you?" Spot asked, pressing a light kiss to Race's shoulder and gently rocking him side to side.
To say Race was surprised would be a huge understatement. Never in a million years had he imagined coming out to Spot would be so simple. He took a second to gather his thoughts before replying.
"He/him and, uh, Anthony? But you can still call me Race, too." He wiped at his cheeks and sniffled.
"Okay, Tony," Spot said with a smile, already coming up with nicknames. Race returned it tentatively, and they just stood like that, soaking in each other's presence until another thought crossed Race's mind.
"You...You meant what you said about still loving me, right? Even though I'm a guy?"
This was one of the things he'd been most worried about. To his knowledge, Spot was straight. Race sincerely hoped that everything they'd been through was enough to override that. He didn't want to spend his life with anyone else.
He was shaken from his thoughts by a rough hand gently cupping his face and wiping away the remaining tears and snot. "Of course I do," Spot whispered fiercely. "And I don't know what you're talking about with this 'because I'm a guy' bullshit. I'm bi as fuck. It's you I was worried about!"
Race was taken aback by all of this. "Me?! I'm about as straight as a rainbow! And you're bi?! I thought you were straight!"
"Oh, please. Does your gaydar even exist?" Spot teased.
"You're one to talk!"
They bickered on like that until eventually they were clinging to each other for support as they cracked up.
"I love you," Race whispered.
"Love you too, sweetheart," Spot replied. "What's next in terms of all this?" Race paused. He'd been so focused on coming out that he hadn't actually thought about what he'd do if it went well.
"I...don't really know. I mean, I've done a shit ton of research, but I never really imagined getting to this point myself," he admitted, shrugging lightly.
Spot nodded slowly before pulling back. "Okay. How about this? You tell me about all of your research while I make breakfast, and then we can call the doctor and make an appointment as soon as we can to talk with her about transitioning, yeah?" Race nodded and hopped up on the counter while Spot started grabbing ingredients for pancakes from the pantry.
"So, from what I've read, it's a really fucking long process to get on T because there's all of these roadblocks where I have to see a gender therapist and basically prove to them that I'm actually trans and then once I get them to allow me to start HRT, it's also a really fucking long time before I can actually start getting stabbed because of long waiting lists and shit," Race began.
As he continued to explain what he knew about transitioning and how it would impact their lives, Spot listened carefully to every word. How Race had ended up with such an amazing man as his husband, he had no idea.
Twenty minutes later, they were sitting at their tiny kitchen table laughing and scarfing down Spot's amazing cinnamon pancakes.
Oh, yeah. His husband could cook, too.
For an hour, Race didn't have to worry about coming out to his family, co-workers, students, and a billion other people. He didn't have to worry about the long uphill battle that was transitioning. He didn't have to do anything other than just enjoy this moment and bask in the feeling of loving and being loved.
And if he teared up a little the next day when he was greeted with, "Morning, handsome," no one needed to know.