Rated: PG. Warnings: Gender dysphoria

The last time Garrett said "We need to talk," it had only led to terrible things. So when he texted Morgan an all lowercase when you come home, can we talk about something?, Morgan cut out of the movie with Josephine with profuse apologies and promises of cake in the future to make up for leaving her alone, and he raced home.

His and Garrett's room shared a bathroom with Danny and Akasha, one room on either side, and Garrett was in there when he got home. Morgan knocked on the door, as gently as he could, and said, "Garrett? You in there?"

There was a shuffling and a mumbled, "Yes."

"You said you wanted to talk?"

"Yeah, I – yeah." Garrett's voice caught and he sniffled. Had he been crying?

"Garrett? What's wrong?"

"Promise you won't laugh, okay?"

"Why would I laugh?"

"Promise?"

"Okay," Morgan said. He leaned against the doorframe, one hand still on the door. "I won't laugh." Normally when Garrett said something like that, he was just being a goof and actually going for a laugh. But he sounded really upset. "What's going on?"

The doorknob turned and Morgan took a step back. Garrett stepped out, blushing bright red from his forehead and down to his shoulders, almost drowning out his freckles. His hands were clasped tightly in front of him at waist level, shaking. And he was wearing a green dress with white polka dots that tied behind the neck.

"I just... feel better like this sometimes," Garrett whispered. He loosened his hands and wiped at his face. His eyes were firmly at Morgan's feet. "Not all the time. But some days I feel more comfortable, with dresses, and makeup, and –" He realized he was rambling and trailed of. "And... stuff."

Morgan finally took a step forward and gently rested his hand on Garrett's cheek. Garrett leaned into it like he'd been starved for human touch, and maybe in a way, he had.

"Have you told anyone else?" Morgan asked gently.

"Akasha," Garrett said. "She helped me pick out the dress. She's known since we were kids."

"You've felt like this since you were a kid?" Morgan whispered. They kept moving closer to each other until Morgan had his arms wrapped around Garrett's waist and Garrett's face was buried in Morgan's chest.

"Yeah," Garrett mumbled. "But my dad would have literally killed me if he saw me like this. And Akasha didn't wear dresses, really. Sometimes she got them from friends who had outgrown them and she kept them in her closet for me."

Morgan gently leaned to the side, pressing his hands against Garrett's back. They swayed back and forth as they talked. Garrett's hands were tight in the back of Morgan's shirt, stretching the fabric, but that was okay. Garrett's comfort was more important that an old band t-shirt.

"So," Morgan said softly, trying to figure out an inoffensive way to phrase it. "Are you a woman? Like, are you trans?"

"I'm trans," Garrett whispered, pushing closer. "But I'm not a woman. Akasha calls it genderfluid. Basically sometimes I'm a man and other times I'm a woman. It changes. It flows. Sometimes I'm not really either. I don't understand it fully, even though it's my own head, so I can't really explain it. Sorry."

"No, I think I understand," Morgan said. "I think I get it. Do you want me to call you something different?"

"Garrett is fine."

"What about pronouns?"

"I don't know yet. He is fine for now." Garrett's hands tightened even more on Morgan's shirt. "You're not leaving, are you?"

Morgan pressed closer, burying his nose in Garrett's hair and pressing a soft kiss there. "I'm not leaving," he whispered. "I love you. That hasn't changed."

Garrett sobbed, once, thick and heavy, and he shuddered, once, twice, and collapsed against Morgan's chest.

"I love you," he whispered back.