Chapter Text
Another two fake $100 bills were collected by Rick as he passed go the fifth time this game. The group had only been playing monopoly for twenty minutes yet all of them already wanted to flip the table and retreat to their rooms.
“Alright Vyvyan, your turn” Rick said enthusiastically with a smile.
“Right” Vyvyan agreed, picking up the dice and practically throwing them at the game board landing two sixes.
“Hah! See Mike? I am better at rolling dice than you! I’ve landed two twelves in a row!”
He picked up his silver cannon and moved the piece twelve spaces which, unfortunately for him, landed him right on top of Neils power plant.
“RIGHT THATS IT IM SICK OF THIS STUPID BLOODY GAME”
Without warning the table was lifted off the ground and smashed down onto Neils head with great force.
“Take that as payment Neil!” Vyvyan shouted to him before storming off up the stairs of their two storey apartment.
“Well that was a good game huh Mike?” Rick said, trying to make conversation with a somewhat uninterested Mike.
Mike didn't answer, instead he just grabbed the paper off the kitchen counter and scampered off to his room.
“Bollocks!” Rick shouted to himself before ascending the stairs after Mike not caring about the unconscious Neil still laying in the living room.
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Finally, some alone time. Rick's favourite time. Flopping onto his bed he reached under the floorboards and pulled out his copy of “Bella” a british magazine for women.
Rick had never really considered himself a cis man, he had always thought of himself as a bit queer in regards to gender. He had never wanted to be a woman yet he wanted to stand and talk and dress like one on occasion. Of course he would never let any of the others find out about this, the insults they could come up with would be less than kind.
He flipped to a page about how to improve your figure in a dress, the information in the magazine was all bullshit, something about standing to show your breasts not your stomach, sucking in and holding your breath… bullshit.
He stood up quickly and looked at himself in the mirror, his figure wasn’t too bad, kind of thin and tall, curves in the right places. He put the magazine down and reached into his closet, the only other article of clothing inside of it besides blazers, gray and black dress shirts and black trousers, being a light blue dress, Rick pulled that out.
The dress wasn’t the prettiest thing ever and it was nothing compared to the intricate and beautiful styles in the magazine he had but it made him feel like himself some days. He pulled it on over his head.
Rick adjusted the dress, smoothing the fabric with shaky hands as he caught another glance at himself in the mirror. The soft, pastel blue clung to his frame in an oddly comforting way, and for a moment, he almost didn’t care about the impending disaster of what would happen if anyone saw him like this.
But then, of course, a loud crash echoed from the kitchen, followed by Vyvyan’s voice, high-pitched and shrill.
“Oi, Rick! You better not be wearing one of my shirts again, or I’ll—”
Rick yanked the dress off in a panic, stuffing it back into the closet. His heart hammered as he kicked the magazine under his bed, trying to act like nothing had happened. He ran his fingers through his hair, breathing deeply. Nothing to see here, he told himself. Just another day of absolute normality.
He pulled his blazer from the closet, slinging it over his shoulders like a shield. As he stepped out into the living room, Neil was sitting on the couch, reading a book about environmentalism or whatever new nonsense he was into today. Vyvyan was at the counter, clearly trying to set fire to something in the microwave.
“Rick,” Neil said without looking up, his voice annoyingly calm. “What’s with the look? You, uh, look... kinda... different.”
Rick froze, his throat tight. He could feel the heat creeping up his neck. “Different?” he repeated, his voice cracking. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Vyvyan turned, having noticed the awkwardness in the room. “Yeah, Rick, you look like someone who just realized they’re not going to get elected president of the 'I hate myself' club.”
Rick straightened his back, adjusting his tie with a flourish. “What, you two have nothing better to do than talk about my impeccable sense of style?” He gave them both a pointed look, trying to cover his nervousness with his usual brand of sarcasm.
Neil squinted at him. “You sure you’re okay, mate?”
“Of course, I’m bloody well okay,” Rick snapped, but the uncertainty lingered in his voice. “In fact, I’m so bloody well okay, I’m about to go out for a walk—alone, because I’m the only one in this flat who’s got any sense of decorum.”
Vyvyan gave a derisive snort. “Yeah, sure, mate. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
As Rick stalked toward the door, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being caught in some strange balancing act—between who he was, who he pretended to be, and who he might want to be, if only the others would stop poking holes in his fragile, carefully constructed image.
Outside, in the cold, he finally took a deep breath, the weight of the dress still pressing on his chest, even though it was back hidden in the closet. Maybe tomorrow, he thought. Maybe tomorrow, he’d figure it out.