greatamazingfeelingsboy

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early Jan

Being in a feminine body is... different, but not bad. Now that he's been assured that, yes, this is a thing Darrow does, and, yes, he's going to change back, Caleb's taken the time to sort of... get used to the idea. He's still pretty tall, though not over six feet anymore. Rosie had helped him get his hair into a ponytail so it's not in his face, and then she'd blessedly helped him buy clothes so he didn't feel totally weird.

He doesn't really want to talk about the bra experience.

But it's Saturday, so now he has to face Michael. He hadn't been anticipating that. He'd ended up trying to call him, but, of course, it went to voicemail. He was the worst. So, dressed in his new, much better fitting clothes, Caleb makes his way to the shop.

Tim greets him like always, with a smile and a "Hey, Kid," and doesn't seem to think there's anything weird about Caleb being girl-shaped. That's... kinda weird.

"Hey," he greets, still a little thrown off by the sound of his new voice. Then he makes his way back to the car he and Michael have been working on.

He braces himself for Michael's feelings, squares his shoulders, and calls out another "Hey," loud enough for Michael to hear him.

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Michael smirks at him, and it's not that he doesn't want to share it, but he also thinks it'd be better if he and Alex got to tell Caleb together, just the way that they're going to be for the rest of their lives. "And hey, I'm okay for advice!" he protests defensively.

"I mean, I guess I'm not the worst person in the universe of advice," he maybe clarifies, and shrugs. "It's...yeah," he says, and okay, yup, maybe he is. "And yeah, it's car day, but clearly things are uh...different for you," he quips. "You can take the day off."

Caleb tries not to look as disappointed as he feels, but it probably doesn't work. "Are you sure?" It's not like he has anything else to do, and he is not going to try to hang out with any of his classmates today, not looking like this.

Michael feels a little bad, but it's not like he wants Caleb to just go away. He rubs his hands off on the towel. "I'm just saying we don't have to stick around here, if you wanted to go somewhere else," he offers. "We can head out anywhere you want, or I can hand you an elastic band for the hair and we can do this."

"Up to you, kid."

Caleb takes a breath and pulls all of his hair over one shoulder, doing a quick, messy braid. It's awkward, because he's never braided hair from this angle, but he manages, and makes a grabbing gesture for an elastic.

"I want to do car day," he says.

"Okay," he says, and smirks. "But before we do car day," he says, and gestures for Caleb to wander over. "I had a sister-type person who made me braid her hair and let her practice makeup on me," he says, and yanks Caleb's hair out of that messy braid, shifting behind to start doing one of Isobel's complicated fish-tail braids that she'd made Michael learn.

He has to ignore a few fingers to do it, but he has his powers to help keep it in place where necessary.

"Unless you're going for the messy aesthetic, in which case I can give it a few yanks, put it back."

"A sister-type person," he echoes with am amused snort. He reaches back to touch the braid when Michael's done. It's way more out of his face than before, and feels kinda cool, actually. "You'll have to teach me how to do this so I can braid my sister's hair."

"I don't know if she's my sister, she just acts like an annoying older sister would," he says, though deep down, he knows that Isobel is the most precious person to him in the world outside of Alex, and if he and Max hadn't had a falling out, then he would be the next person on that list.

"It's a fishtail. Iz made me do all sorts of complicated hit to her hair when we were growing up, because Max refused."

Caleb's quiet as he turns around to face Michael, now that his hair is properly tended to. "You really love her," he notes, eyes going a little soft. "Sorry, I, I don't want to make you sad, I just. It's nice."

"I'd do anything for Isobel," Michael admits, because he knows that he's already gone further than most people would (after all, not everyone takes the brunt of blame for three murders, not unless you really love someone).

He shrugs, because that's just his life. He's not sure that she'd do anything for him, because he's not Max, but it doesn't matter. "You wanna work on the tires today? Get them on the rims?"

"Yeah, yes," he answers with a nod. He sheds his jacket at last, dropping it into the back seat of the car so he doesn't have to worry about it. It's still his usual jacket — no point in buying a new one — and it'd done a pretty good job of hiding his changed body shape.

He's wearing a long sleeved shirt that's a little more fitted than he would have liked, especially now that Michael's teased him about pleasuring himself in this different body. It shows off his new figure, and he quickly focuses on the car instead of on what Michael's reaction is going to be.

Michael gives Caleb an amused look, pieces clicking together. First, there'd been the bra thing, and now there's the clothes. "So, I take it that you went shopping at some point today?" is his guess, which he feels like is the pretty normal thing to be judging.

"Seriously, I definitely would've thrown on sweats. It's a teen thing, right?" he asks curiously, popping the hood. "Caring about all that?"

"None of my clothes fit," he argues, hugging himself again. "And... these were way bigger than I expected. Heavier, I mean." He blushes and looks away. "It kinda hurt to, like. Do... anything."

"So, your tits are too big and that gave you the chance to go on a shopping spree," he deadpans. "You should ask Alex if he wants to go out. He's got opinions about fashion," he says with a knowing nod, even if he's proud.

"Don't worry, I don't care. I'm in a committed thing, remember? I'm all about the responsible adult life now," he says, waving his hand as he grabs some tools, getting the lift in place. "Come on, crank this baby up, we're getting new tires and rims on."

Caleb steps over to the lift control to hold the button. He gives Michael a look. "Even if you weren't in a committed relationship, ew, you're, like, ten years older than me." There's no blush this time, because Michael isn't an ugly guy, but he's definitely got an older brother vibe to him, and Caleb likes his feelings, but he isn't drawn to them the way he is to Adam's.

"Oh, fuck off, I'm not coming on to you," Michael protests, wrinkling his nose, because yeah, he is a lot older, and that's the point. He doesn't want this to suddenly get weird, and it's starting to verge close.

He nods towards the tires. "Come on, you wanna be helpful, drag these over. We're installing the rims I got, cuz they're way cooler," he says, because the ones he found have a great design that'll show off while spinning.

Caleb makes a face. He hadn't been trying to make it weird, but he's glad to learn that Michael feels the same way about it that he does. They're friends first, and unless Michael were suddenly a teenager, Caleb doubts he'd really be interested in him that way.

He grabs a tire off the stack—

And yelps, nearly dropping it onto his own foot. Either it's much heavier than he'd thought, or this frame is a lot weaker than he'd expected. His arms are slenderer, but he'd still seen muscle when he'd flexed, so he'd thought it would be the same.

Michael glances over in time to see the tire slipping, towards Caleb's foot. The yelp had given him enough warning that he can use his powers to steady it before the whole thing slams down on him, rushing over to grab it and set it down.

"Hey, easy," he warns, giving him a concerned look. "Look, just shove them over," he says, not wanting to say that Caleb can't, but he doesn't want them being dropped either.

He can feel the weird, slightly bubbly way the tire slows in the air, and then he's looking up at Michael, trying not to frown at him. The traffic cone orange of his concern is a surprise. It's been awhile since he felt that.

"I got it," Caleb insists. "It just— caught me off guard, or whatever."

Michael doesn't want to tell Caleb that he can't do anything, but he also feels like he's allowed to be concerned, especially seeing as it's not like he could lift around tires when he'd first gotten started, and he'd just had the excuse of lanky arms.

"You sure?" he checks. "Because you don't have to lift them around, there's other ways to get them here."

Caleb isn't sure why he's so annoyed by this. Michael's not annoyed. He's concerned, yes, and he can feel that it's because he doesn't want Caleb to hurt himself. But it doesn't feel like Michael thinks he's weak. It feels like Michael's just... being a big brother, or whatever. Like the way he worries about Alice when she's in a bad mood.

He huffs a breath and tilts the tire up onto its treads so he can roll it over to the car.

"I used to lift heavier than this back home," he complains.

"Yeah, and you just nearly dropped it on your foot," Michael feels like he should point out, glad that Caleb's rolling it now. "You don't gotta try and prove you can still swing a dick around, when you can use your brain," is his point, and seeing as Caleb's doing that now, he's pretty glad.

"You're not at home, and this place did some weird shit to you, so yeah, you'll have to adapt," he admits.

Caleb wants to argue, but Michael's only saying this because he cares, he can feel that. So why does he feel like he wants to cry? He's still annoyed — angry, almost, but it feels big, and it doesn't make him want to punch something like it usually does. It just burns behind his eyes, making him narrow them.

...It's not because he's girl-shaped, is it? He keeps his back to Michael has he grabs another tire, tilting it onto its tread the same as before. He does not want to deal with this right now. This is supposed to be Car Day, and he just wants to feel normal for thirty fucking seconds.

Michael sees the way Caleb is reacting and he sighs, throwing his hands up in frustration before settling back, staring at him pointedly. "Just say it," he encourages, because he hates the silent treatment, always has. Nothing good ever comes of it, so if Caleb has something to say, he'd rather just hear it.

Talk to me talk to me talk to me. It plays on a refrain in Caleb's ribs, beating a gentle tattoo in time with his heart. He huffs harder.

"Stop it!" he insists, leaning the third tire against his leg. "I'm not mad at you, I-I'm just mad, okay? I hate this stupid city, and I hate this stupid, wrong body, and I hate that you're so worried about me!"

Michael's not insulted or hurt by anything he says until the last part. He recoils, and every part of him says that he needs to save face. His nostrils flare slightly, and he hears it. The little voice in his head that says, fine, then I'll stop caring at all.

It's so easy to do, and he doesn't spit it out, but he wants to.

"It's temporary," he snaps instead. "In a week, you'll be back to normal, and you're allowed to be mad, but if you don't want me being worried about you, then don't fucking come to car day and expect anything else."