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satansdarlin · 15 days ago

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Ace in the hole

Apparently I can't write anything small (lol), this is technically a continuation of royal flush and pa's little Spade. I hope you enjoy this nonny! I based a bit of this on my own experience coming out as non-binary (technically I'm genderfluid but I use non-binary and fem terms more than masc)

Rating: T

Word count: 8.4k

Warnings: anxiety about coming out, transphobia (immediately shut down), overly excited boy dad remy

If you liked this check of my masterlist or put in a request if they are open

Spade, your eldest, had moved out and was living in an apartment with her fiancée Alex, but that didn't mean the house was empty. Chip, the youngest, was only turning ten this autumn, while Alice was now sixteen. On this particular afternoon, Chip was out with friends when your second oldest asked to speak with you and Remy.

"What's goin' on, poupée?" Remy asked, his accent thickening with concern. "Remy doesn't like seeing you so nervous.”

"I want to talk to you both about something serious... about me," they finally spoke. You placed your hand over Remy's. While it couldn't be as dramatic as finding seventeen-year-old Spade with a suppression collar or discovering she'd hidden a boyfriend for three months, something in your second oldest's tone made you worry.

"You can tell us anything, sweetheart."

"Could be about a boy or somethin'?" Remy chuckled teasingly, but when you squeezed his hand, he tried to compose himself. "Remy will be serious now, promise."

"You could say that," they murmured before clearing their throat. "I'm just going to say it, and you can ask questions after I'm done. I... I don't think I'm a girl. I feel like a boy. And I don't want to be a girl. I don't... want to be Alice anymore." Their voice grew quiet, nervous about their parents' reaction.

"Oh," you said softly before clearing your throat. "Well, what would you like us to call you before we proceed?"

"I... I like the name Ace."

"Sticking with the theme, huh?" Ace nodded slightly.

Remy was clearly taken aback but not angry or upset—just surprised. This wasn't a scenario he'd ever imagined. "Ace... that's a good name." You could tell your husband was searching for words. "You really feel like a boy?"

"I do, Pa. I don't think I've ever felt like a girl." He scuffed his foot against the ground, unable to meet his parents' eyes, expecting disappointment that wasn't there. You could feel your husband practically vibrating with excitement at the prospect of having a son old enough to share traditionally masculine activities with.

"Remy," you spoke in a warning tone. "Give him a moment before you start trying to teach him football." Remy deflated slightly, catching himself before his smile grew too bright. He took a deep breath, nodding as he refocused on the conversation.

"So, what does this mean for you, son? Should we start calling you Ace full time? You wanna see about a new wardrobe? And are you... are you planning on doing anything like surgery or somethin'?"

Ace was about to answer, but you caught his nervous look first.

"It's up to you, darling. Your father and I aren't upset at all. I can promise your father is thrilled about having another boy under his roof. We just want you to be comfortable."

Ace looked stunned by how well you were both taking it. While he hadn't expected a negative reaction, he'd worried about disappointing you somehow.

"You're both so cool with it..." he said, voice uncertain as he looked between you. "I just feel like a boy, honestly... I thought maybe a shorter haircut would be a good place to start."

"Remy could cut it!" your husband offered eagerly.

"You are not cutting his hair," you spoke firmly. "We will take you to get it done professionally."

"Aww, come on! Remy knows what he's doing!" he tried to protest, but your stern tone left no room for argument. He sighed before nodding. "Yeah, yeah, okay... Remy will let the professionals handle it."

Ace's shoulders visibly relaxed, tension melting away as he realized this conversation was going better than any scenario he'd imagined. "I've been looking at some clothes online too," he admitted, finally settling into the armchair across from you both. "Nothing expensive, just... different styles."

"We can go shopping this weekend if you'd like," you offered, already mentally cataloging stores that might have what he needed. "Maybe get that haircut too?"

"Oh! And Remy could—" your husband started excitedly.

"After the haircut and clothes shopping," you interrupted, knowing he was about to suggest a dozen different father-son activities. "Let's take this one step at a time, okay?"

"Actually..." Ace fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. "Could we maybe tell Spade first? Before we go shopping? I don't want her to find out from someone else, and..." He trailed off, but you understood. Spade had always been protective of her younger siblings.

"Of course, mon fils," Remy said, testing out the words. His accent wrapped warmly around the French. "Remy thinks we should invite her over for dinner tomorrow. Your choice of takeout."

"Pizza?" Ace asked hopefully, a hint of his usual mischievous smile returning.

"With extra cheese," you agreed, then added, "And what about Chip? Do you want to tell him right away?"

Ace considered this for a moment. "Maybe... maybe after Spade? He's only ten, but he's pretty smart for his age. I just don't want him accidentally telling everyone at school before I'm ready."

"That's very thoughtful of you," you said. "We can help you figure out the timing for telling others too. There's no rush."

"Speaking of school..." Remy scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Does Remy need to talk to your teachers? Or the administration?"

"Not yet," Ace said quickly, then more slowly added, "I think I want to try the other stuff first. You know, hair and clothes and... seeing how it feels at home. Is that okay?"

"More than okay," you assured him. "This is your journey, sweetheart. We're just here to support you."

"Though," Remy added with a growing grin, "Remy may have some old baseball cards in the attic that need sorting..."

You rolled your eyes fondly as Ace laughed, the sound more relaxed than you'd heard in months. "Pa, you've been trying to get someone to help you with those cards for years!"

"And now Remy has two sons to pass them down to!" he declared triumphantly, before catching himself. "That is, if you're interested in that sort of thing. No pressure."

"Maybe," Ace said, smiling. "But first... could I have a hug?"

You both moved at the same time, enveloping your son in a warm embrace. As you held him, you could feel the slight trembling in his shoulders, the release of fears he'd been carrying for who knew how long.

"We love you so much," you whispered into his hair – hair that would soon be shorter, marking the first step in his new journey. "Nothing could ever change that."

"Remy loves you too, mon fils," your husband added softly, his voice thick with emotion.

When you finally pulled apart, Ace wiped at his eyes quickly. "I love you guys too." He paused, then added with a hint of humor, "Even if Pa's going to try to teach me every sport known to man now."

"Hey! Remy is an excellent teacher!" he protested, but his eyes were twinkling.

"You taught Spade basketball and she broke a window," you reminded him dryly.

"That was one time! Remy cannot be held responsible for that!"

Ace laughed again, and you treasured the sound. There would be challenges ahead, you knew – telling family and friends, navigating school, dealing with the wider world. But right now, in this moment, your son was happy and loved, and that was what mattered most.

"So," Ace said, looking more confident than he had all afternoon. "Pizza tomorrow with Spade?"

"Pizza tomorrow," you confirmed. "And maybe this weekend we can look into that haircut."

"And the baseball cards!" Remy added hopefully.

"And maybe the baseball cards," you conceded, watching your husband and son share identical grins.

Some changes happened slowly, and others happened all at once. But as you watched Ace settle more comfortably into the conversation, already planning what style of haircut he wanted, you knew that this change – this truth – had been there all along, just waiting for the right moment to be shared.

The next evening came faster than expected. You'd barely finished setting out the pizza when Spade arrived, her keys jingling as she let herself in.

"Remy's oldest is here!" your husband called out excitedly, already heading for the door. "Come give your papa a hug!"

Spade rolled her eyes fondly as she was enveloped in a bear hug. "I was here last week, Pa." But she squeezed him back just as tight before making her way to you for another hug. "Where's the troublemaker squad?"

"Chip's at a sleepover," you explained, watching Ace hover nervously in the doorway to the living room. "And... Ace wanted to talk to you about something."

Spade raised an eyebrow at the unfamiliar name, but her expression softened when she saw her sibling's anxious stance. "Everything okay?"

"Maybe we should sit down," Ace suggested quietly.

You and Remy shared a look as you all settled into the living room, pizza momentarily forgotten. Ace took a deep breath, fingers twisting in his lap.

"So... you know how you always said I could tell you anything?"

"Course," Spade replied immediately. "That's what big sisters are for."

Ace winced slightly at the word 'sisters,' and Spade caught it, her brow furrowing in concentration.

"I'm... I'm your brother, actually," Ace managed, voice barely above a whisper. "I'm a boy. And my name is Ace now, not... not the old one."

Spade was quiet for exactly three seconds before "Oh! Oh shit, that makes so much sense!"

"Language," you corrected automatically, but you were smiling.

"No, but seriously," Spade continued, leaning forward. "Remember when we were kids and you kept stealing my baseball cap? And how you always wanted to be the male lead when we played pretend? And—"

"Remy feels very called out right now," your husband interrupted with a chuckle. "Because Remy didn't notice any of that."

"That's because you're oblivious, Pa," Spade said affectionately before turning back to Ace. "So, little brother, huh? Does this mean I can finally give you all those hand-me-downs Pa bought me that I never wore?"

The tension in Ace's shoulders melted away. "You're... you're okay with it?"

"Are you kidding? This is great! Now I'm not outnumbered by sisters anymore!" She paused. "Wait, have you told Chip yet?"

"Not yet," you answered. "We're taking it one step at a time. Haircut and clothes shopping this weekend."

"Remy has many plans!" your husband added excitedly. "Baseball cards, football, Remy can teach you to shave even though you don't need it yet—"

"Remy," you warned, but Spade was already laughing.

"Oh god, Pa's going to try to cram eighteen years of 'father-son bonding' into like, a week."

"Remy will pace himself!" he protested. "But also, son, if you want to learn how to throw a perfect spiral—"

"After the haircut," you and Spade said in unison.

The next week proved Spade's prediction eerily accurate. While you took Ace shopping for new clothes and to get his hair cut into a stylish short style that made his whole face light up, Remy was making lists.

"Remy found his old comic books!" he announced one morning, dragging a box from the attic. "Every boy should read these classics!"

The next day: "Does Remy's son want to learn how to change a tire? Very important skill!"

And the day after: "Remy thinks it's time for some man-to-man talks about—"

"If you try to give him The Talk right now, you're sleeping on the couch," you threatened, watching Ace turn bright red.

"Remy was just going to discuss sports statistics!"

But for all his enthusiasm, you noticed how careful Remy was too. How he always checked if Ace was interested before launching into something new. How he'd caught himself almost saying "Alice" once and had spent the rest of the day practically showering Ace with "mon fils" to make up for it.

The baseball cards turned out to be a hit, though. You found them one afternoon sprawled across the living room floor, cards arranged in careful piles as Remy explained the different statistics and players.

"And this one," Remy was saying, holding up a well-worn card, "This one was Remy's favorite when he was your age."

"Because he was a good player?"

"Non, because Remy thought his mustache was magnificent! Look at it!"

Ace's laughter echoed through the house, and you paused in the doorway just to watch them. Your husband caught your eye and smiled, and you knew he was thinking the same thing: your son had always been your son, even before you knew it. You were just finally seeing him clearly.

"Hey Pa?" Ace asked, carefully setting down a card. "Think we could try that spiral throw now?"

Remy's entire face lit up. "Remy thought you'd never ask! Let Remy get his old football—"

"In the backyard!" you called after them as they scrambled up. "If you break anything, you're both grounded!"

"Remy makes no promises!" came the cheerful reply, followed by Ace's giggling.

You shook your head fondly as you watched them through the window, Remy positioning Ace's arms just so, demonstrating the proper grip on the ball. There would be broken windows in your future, you were certain, but watching your son and husband together, you couldn't bring yourself to mind.

Some things were worth a few repair bills.

A few weeks later, after Ace had settled into his new haircut and wardrobe, and after Remy had only broken one flower pot with their football practices, it was time to tell Chip. The ten-year-old was sprawled on the living room floor doing homework when Ace decided it was time.

"Hey squirt," Ace said, settling cross-legged on the floor near his little brother. "Can we talk for a minute?"

"Is this about the cookies missing from the jar? Because that wasn't me, it was Pa. Remy did it," Chip said without looking up from his math worksheet.

"Remy would never!" came the indignant call from the kitchen, followed by your knowing snort.

"Actually," Ace continued, fighting back a smile, "it's about something else. Something important."

That got Chip's attention. He set down his pencil and sat up, looking between you, Remy, and Ace with growing curiosity. "Are we getting a dog?"

"Non, but Remy likes where your head's at," your husband grinned, earning an elbow from you.

"Focus, please," you reminded them gently. "Ace has something he wants to tell you."

Chip's brow furrowed. "Who's Ace?"

"I am," Ace said softly. "That's... that's what I wanted to talk to you about. You know how you've always called me your big sister?"

"Yeah?" Chip drew the word out uncertainly.

"Well, I'm actually your big brother. I'm a boy, like you. And my name is Ace now, not the old name."

Chip stared at him for a long moment, his face scrunched up in that way it did when he was processing new information. "But you were a girl yesterday."

"Non, mon petit," Remy interjected gently. "Ace has always been a boy, we just didn't know it yet. Like when you got your glasses and suddenly realized the trees had individual leaves instead of being big green blobs."

"Oh." Chip considered this. "Is that why you got your hair cut? And why Pa keeps trying to teach you football even though he's really bad at it?"

"Remy resents that accusation!"

"You hit Mrs. Peterson's cat with the ball last week, Pa."

"The cat ran into the ball's path! Remy maintains his innocence!"

You cleared your throat loudly, bringing the focus back to the matter at hand. Ace was watching his little brother anxiously, waiting for more questions or maybe rejection.

"So..." Chip said slowly, "you're my brother now?"

"Yeah," Ace nodded. "If... if that's okay?"

Chip shrugged. "Okay. Can you still help me with my math homework? You're way better at it than Spade."

"Don't let your sister hear you say that," you warned, but your heart warmed at how easily Chip was taking this.

"Wait," Chip's head snapped up suddenly. "Does this mean I have to share my video games with you now? Because Pa always says brothers have to share, and when I visit Tommy's house his big brother never shares the good controller, and—"

"Remy thinks we can figure out a fair system," your husband chuckled. "But maybe we should let Ace answer your other questions first?"

"Oh, right." Chip turned back to Ace. "Does it hurt?"

"Does what hurt?"

"Turning into a boy."

Ace smiled gently. "I didn't turn into a boy, buddy. I always was one, inside. I just... didn't have the words to tell you before."

"Like when I knew the answer in class but couldn't remember how to say it?"

"Something like that, yeah."

Chip nodded sagely. "Cool. Can we have pizza for dinner?"

You laughed. "We had pizza last night."

"Yeah, but Ace is my brother now! We should celebrate!" Chip paused thoughtfully. "Unless you were already my brother yesterday when we had pizza. Were you?"

"I was," Ace confirmed, looking more relaxed now.

"Oh. Well, we should still have pizza. Just to make sure it counts."

"Remy seconds this motion!" your husband called out.

"Remy is not helping," you said dryly, but you were already reaching for your phone to order. Some battles weren't worth fighting, especially when your youngest was being so wonderfully accepting.

"Hey Ace?" Chip asked while you were ordering. "If you're my brother now, does that mean you'll teach me how to climb the big tree in the backyard? Pa says I'm not allowed to learn from Spade anymore after she fell through Mrs. Peterson's fence."

"Absolutely not," you called out, covering the phone.

"Remy will teach you both!" your husband declared proudly.

"Absolutely NOT," you repeated more firmly.

"Remy was just kidding, poupée!" But he winked at the boys when you turned back to your call.

You watched as Chip scooted closer to Ace, shoving his math homework between them. "This problem's really hard," he said. "But maybe my big brother can help?"

The smile that spread across Ace's face at those words could have lit up the whole house. "Yeah," he said, voice slightly thick with emotion. "Your big brother can definitely help."

"Remy is not crying," your husband announced, wiping his eyes. "Remy just has allergies."

"To math?" Chip asked innocently.

"Oui, exactly! Remy is very allergic to math!"

As you finished ordering the pizza, you couldn't help but smile at your family. Sometimes the biggest changes were met with the simplest acceptance, especially when seen through the eyes of a child who just wanted pizza and help with his homework.

And maybe, you thought as you watched Ace patiently explain fractions to his little brother, that's exactly how it should be.

"Hey Ace?" Chip asked suddenly. "Do I have to give you my dessert now? Because Tommy says his big brother always takes his dessert and—"

"Remy thinks that's enough questions about Tommy's brother!"

The sound of your children's laughter filled the room, and you knew that everything was going to be just fine.

A year had passed, and the changes in Ace were remarkable. Not just the physical ones – though the hormone therapy he'd started six months ago had begun to deepen his voice and reshape his face – but the confidence. Gone was the nervous teenager who'd paced in front of you and Remy that first day. Your son now walked with his head high, laughed freely, and had even started a GSA at his school.

The mall was crowded that Saturday afternoon. Chip had outgrown his shoes again ("Remy swears he grows overnight!"), and Ace needed new binders since he'd been working out with Remy in the garage gym.

"Remy thinks we should look at sports equipment while we're here," your husband suggested hopefully, making both boys perk up.

"After shoes and binders," you reminded them, steering the group toward the athletic store. "One thing at a—"

"Did you see that?" A loud whisper cut through the mall chatter. "That girl's trying to be a boy. It's disgusting what parents let their kids do these days."

You felt Ace stiffen beside you, his shoulders hunching slightly. Remy's face darkened, and you could see him starting to turn, his protective papa bear instincts flaring.

But you were faster.

"Excuse me?" Your voice carried across the walkway, sharp as steel. The middle-aged couple who'd been whispering jumped, not expecting confrontation. "Would you care to repeat what you just said about my son?"

"Your son?" The woman sneered, doubling down. "That's clearly a confused young lady who—"

"The only confused person here," you cut in, stepping forward, "is you, if you think I'm going to stand here and let you talk about my child like that. My son is braver than you'll ever be, living his truth despite people like you who think they have any right to comment on his life."

"Now see here—" the woman's husband started to interject.

"Non, you see here," Remy growled, moving to stand beside you, but you held up a hand.

"I'm not finished," you said, your voice deadly calm. "My son has more courage in his little finger than you have in your entire body. He gets up every day and faces a world full of small, narrow-minded people like you, and he does it with grace and strength that you couldn't begin to understand."

"Parents like you are what's wrong with—" the woman tried again.

"Parents like me?" Now you laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Parents like me who love their children unconditionally? Who support them and protect them and celebrate who they are? You're right, that must be terrible compared to parents who teach their children to be judgmental, hateful, and to make cruel comments about strangers in public places."

You felt Chip slip his hand into yours, squeezing tight. Ace stood frozen, watching with wide eyes.

"If you're so concerned about parenting," you continued, your voice rising slightly, "maybe worry about the example you're setting right now, teaching that it's okay to bully teenagers in shopping malls. Is that the legacy you want to leave? Is that the kind of person you want to be?"

The couple seemed to shrink under your words, finally seeming to notice the small crowd that had gathered.

"My son is kind, intelligent, and brave. He has a family who loves him and friends who support him. What he doesn't have is time for your ignorance or any obligation to justify his existence to you. So I suggest you take your outdated prejudices and remove yourself from our presence before I decide to speak with mall security about harassment."

"Remy suggests you listen to his wife," your husband added, his accent thick with barely contained anger. "Remy is not as diplomatic as she is."

The couple retreated, red-faced and muttering, but you weren't done. You turned to address the onlookers directly.

"And that goes for anyone else who thinks they have the right to comment on my son's life. You don't. End of discussion."

A smattering of applause broke out from the crowd, making the couple hurry away faster. You turned back to your family, your hands shaking slightly with leftover adrenaline.

"Mom," Ace whispered, his eyes suspiciously bright. "That was... you didn't have to..."

"Yes, I did," you said firmly, pulling him into a hug. "I absolutely did."

"Remy is so proud right now," your husband declared, wrapping his arms around both of you. "Though Remy thinks he should point out that he was about to say something too."

"You were too slow, Pa," Chip piped up, squeezing into the group hug. "Mom was like a superhero! Like Wonder Woman, but scarier!"

A laugh bubbled up from Ace's throat, slightly watery but genuine. "Yeah, she kind of was."

"Nobody," you said firmly, pulling back to look your son in the eyes, "and I mean nobody, gets to make you feel less than who you are. You're my son, and I will fight anyone who tries to hurt you."

"Even though you tell us fighting isn't the answer?" Chip asked innocently.

"Remy thinks your maman just proved that words can be the strongest weapons," your husband said wisely, then ruined it by adding, "But also, Remy knows how to throw a mean right hook if needed."

"Nobody is throwing any hooks," you said firmly, but you squeezed Remy's hand in gratitude. "Now, let's go get what we came for. And maybe ice cream after."

"Before sports equipment?" Chip gasped dramatically.

"Remy thinks this calls for both ice cream AND sports equipment."

As you walked through the mall, you noticed Ace's posture had straightened again, his head held high. A few people who'd witnessed the confrontation smiled at him supportively, and one elderly woman actually stopped to tell him she had a transgender grandson and was so happy to see supportive parents.

"Hey Mom?" Ace said quietly as you waited in line for ice cream. "Thank you. For... for everything."

"Always," you promised, pulling him close again. "Always and forever, no matter what."

"And if anyone else wants to start something," Chip announced, trying to make his voice deep and intimidating, "they'll have to deal with all of us!"

"Remy's money is still on your maman," your husband stage-whispered. "Did you see how fast those people ran? Now you two know why remy fell in love with your maman."

You rolled your eyes fondly at your family's antics, but your heart was full. Let anyone try to hurt your children – they'd learn quickly that a mama bear's love was fiercer than any prejudice.

"So," you said, changing the subject as you reached the counter. "Who wants extra sprinkles?"

"Remy does!" three voices chorused in unison, and just like that, the afternoon was back on track. Because that's what family did – they stood up for each other, protected each other, and then got ice cream with extra sprinkles.

And sometimes, that was all the victory you needed.

The house was unusually quiet with Remy taking Chip to his soccer tournament for the weekend. You were just finishing up the breakfast dishes when Ace wandered into the kitchen, still in his pajamas despite it being nearly noon.

"Did Pa text yet about Chip's game?" he asked, sliding onto one of the barstools at the counter.

"Mhm. Apparently 'Remy's youngest is a star in the making!'" you mimicked your husband's enthusiastic tone. "Though he also admitted Chip spent the first half waving at a dog on the sidelines."

Ace snorted, reaching for the coffee pot. You slid it away from his grasp.

"Ah-ah. If you're going to have coffee, you have to have breakfast first. I know for a fact you haven't eaten yet."

"I'm seventeen, Maman," he protested, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. "Nearly eighteen."

"And I'm your mother who knows you skip breakfast when you're anxious about things," you countered, already pulling eggs from the fridge. "Want to tell me what's on your mind while I make you an omelet?"

Ace fidgeted with the sleeve of his sleep shirt. "It's stupid."

"I doubt that very much." You cracked the eggs into a bowl, adding a splash of milk. "Is it about the college applications?"

"Kind of?" He sighed, slumping forward onto the counter. "It's just... all the applications ask for gender, and some of them want to know about name changes, and I know it's illegal for them to discriminate but..."

"But it's still scary," you finished softly, understanding flooding through you. "Oh, mon cœur."

"Told you it was stupid."

"It's not stupid at all," you assured him, pouring the egg mixture into the pan. "It's a big step, and it's okay to be nervous about it. Have you looked at the LGBTQ+ resources for any of the schools you're interested in?"

"A little," he admitted. "The one in Boston seems really good. They have gender-neutral housing options and everything."

You hummed thoughtfully as you added cheese to the omelet. "That's the one with the strong engineering program, right?"

"Yeah." He perked up slightly. "They have this really cool robotics lab, and their website showed some of the projects students have worked on—" He cut himself off, blushing. "Sorry, I know I've talked about it before."

"Hey." You slid the finished omelet onto a plate and placed it in front of him. "I love hearing you talk about things you're passionate about. Never apologize for that."

He poked at the omelet with his fork. "Even if it means moving across the country?"

Ah. There it was.

"Even then," you said firmly, starting another omelet for yourself. "Though I won't pretend I won't miss you terribly. But that's what parents do – we raise you to chase your dreams, even when those dreams take you far away."

"Pa's going to cry so much at graduation."

"Oh, absolutely. Remy's already gone through three packages of tissues just thinking about it." You settled across from him with your own plate. "But you know what?"

"What?"

"We're all going to be so proud watching you walk across that stage. Every tear will be worth it."

Ace ducked his head, but you caught his smile. "Thanks, Maman."

"Now eat your breakfast so we can start our day properly."

He looked up, curious. "Start our day?"

"Well," you said casually, "I thought since the boys are away, we could have a mother-son day. Unless you're too grown up for that now?"

"Never," he said quickly, making you laugh. "What did you have in mind?"

"I was thinking we could start with that new bookstore downtown – the one with the engineering section you've been wanting to check out. Then maybe lunch at that café you like, the one with the good hot chocolate? And after..." you paused dramatically, "I may have gotten us appointments at that salon you mentioned. The one that specializes in masculine haircuts?"

Ace's whole face lit up. "Really? But I thought you said my last haircut would last a while..."

"That was before you showed me the picture of that undercut style you like," you smiled. "Besides, every boy needs to treat himself sometimes."

"Even with college coming up? I know it's expensive..."

"Ace," you reached across the counter to squeeze his hand. "Let me spoil my son a little, okay? You've worked so hard this year – with school, with transitioning, with everything. You deserve nice things."

He squeezed your hand back. "Okay. But can we maybe... can we also stop by that tea shop you like? The one with all the fancy blends? Since we're spoiling people today?"

Your heart melted a little. "That sounds perfect."

An hour later, you were strolling down the main street, window shopping and talking about everything and nothing. Ace had inherited your love of people-watching, and you spent a good twenty minutes making up stories about passersby while sharing a bag of roasted nuts from a street vendor.

In the bookstore, you watched proudly as he confidently asked the clerk about their engineering section, no trace of the shy uncertainty that used to color his interactions with strangers. He ended up with two new books on robotics and, at your insistence, a novel he'd been eyeing.

"For fun reading," you insisted when he protested. "Life can't be all textbooks and college applications."

The café was busy, but you managed to snag your favorite corner table. Ace wrapped his hands around his hot chocolate, looking thoughtful.

"Remember when we used to do this when I was little?" he asked suddenly. "Before... before I knew? You'd take me here when I was sad, and we'd make up stories about the other customers."

"I remember," you said softly. "You always ordered the same thing – hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings."

"Still do," he grinned, taking a sip that left a whipped cream mustache on his upper lip.

"Some things never change," you laughed, passing him a napkin. "Though some things do. All good changes."

He wiped his mouth, expression turning serious. "Do you ever... do you ever miss how things were? Before?"

"No," you said without hesitation. "Because we didn't have you then – not really. We had a child who was hurting and hiding. Now we have our son, who smiles more, laughs more, and orders the same ridiculously sweet hot chocolate he always has." You reached across the table to touch his cheek. "The only thing I miss is that I didn't know sooner, so you didn't have to hurt for so long."

"Maman," he whispered, eyes suspiciously bright.

"Now drink your chocolate before it gets cold," you said briskly, pretending not to wipe at your own eyes. "We have a haircut appointment to get to."

The salon was everything Ace had hoped for. The stylist, a young man with bright blue hair, took one look at the reference photo and launched into an excited discussion about face shapes and styling options. You sat back and watched as your son animated discussing what he wanted, how he styled his hair, what products he used.

"Your son has great bone structure," the stylist told you as he worked. "This cut's going to look amazing on him."

You didn't miss how Ace's face lit up at the casual use of 'son,' or how he sat a little straighter in the chair.

When it was done, the undercut was perfect – professional enough for college interviews but with enough edge to make Ace grin at his reflection.

"What do you think?" he asked, running his hands through the longer top section.

"I think you look very handsome," you said honestly. "Very you."

The tea shop was your last stop, where Ace insisted on buying you three new blends ("One for each acceptance letter I'm going to get," he declared confidently).

As you walked back to the car, shopping bags swinging between you, Ace bumped his shoulder against yours.

"Thanks, Maman. For today. For everything."

"Thank you for being you," you replied simply. "For trusting us with who you are. For letting us walk this journey with you."

"Even when I'm in Boston?"

"Especially then." You linked your arm through his. "Though you better believe I'm making your father set up video chat on every device we own."

"Oh god," he groaned. "Pa's going to try to teach me football through the computer, isn't he?"

"Probably," you laughed. "But that's what family is for – loving you and embarrassing you, no matter how far away you go."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," he said softly.

Neither would you, you thought as you drove home, your son singing along to the radio beside you. Neither would you.

"Pa?" Ace lingered in the garage doorway, watching as Remy adjusted the weights on the bench press. "Can I... can I talk to you about something?"

Remy sat up, wiping his brow with a towel. "Of course, mon fils. Remy is always here to listen."

Ace shifted from foot to foot, a gesture that reminded Remy so much of when his son had first come out. "There's this person at school... in my GSA group..."

"Ah," Remy's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Remy understands. Come, sit." He patted the weight bench beside him.

"Their name is Sky," Ace said, settling next to his father. "They're non-binary, and they're just... they're amazing, Pa. They do these incredible pencil sketches, and they're so passionate about environmental justice, and..." He trailed off, blushing.

"And they make your heart do that funny little flip, non?" Remy gently nudged his son's shoulder.

"Yeah," Ace admitted, ducking his head. "But I don't know how to... I mean, I've never... and what if they don't..."

"Would you like to hear how Remy won your maman's heart?" Remy asked, his eyes twinkling.

"Mom says you knocked over an entire display of books trying to ask her out," Ace laughed.

"Ah, but did she tell you why?" Remy leaned back, grinning at the memory. "Remy was so nervous, you see. Your maman was – is – the most incredible person Remy had ever met. Remy thought surely someone so amazing would never look twice at him."

"But Mom loves you more than anything," Ace protested.

"Oui, and you know why? Because Remy finally stopped trying to be perfect and just showed her his heart." Remy's voice softened. "Love isn't about being smooth or having all the right words. It's about being brave enough to be yourself."

Ace absorbed this, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "Sky asked if I wanted to get coffee after GSA meeting tomorrow."

"And?"

"I panicked and said I had to help Mom organize the pantry." Ace groaned, covering his face. "Our pantry is already organized!"

Remy chuckled warmly. "Then perhaps you should text Sky, tell them you've had a miraculous breakthrough in time management, and ask if the offer still stands?"

"But what if..." Ace took a deep breath. "What if they don't like me once they really know me? What if being trans is too complicated for them?"

"Mon fils," Remy turned serious, placing a gentle hand on Ace's shoulder. "The right person will love you for exactly who you are. Being trans is part of your story, but it's not all of who you are. You are also kind, funny, smart, and have your maman's fierce heart."

"Sky makes these little paper cranes during meetings," Ace confided, a soft smile playing at his lips. "They leave them all over school with positive messages inside. Last week, I found one that said 'You are exactly who you're meant to be.'"

"They sound très special," Remy observed. "And very wise."

"Yeah," Ace pulled out his phone, staring at it thoughtfully. "They really are."

"You know," Remy said casually, standing up. "Remy thinks the pantry could survive without reorganization for one afternoon."

Ace's fingers flew over his phone keyboard before he could lose his nerve. The response came almost immediately, making his face light up.

"They said yes! Coffee tomorrow!" His excitement quickly shifted to panic. "Oh god, coffee tomorrow. What do I wear? What do I say? Pa, help!"

"First," Remy laughed, pulling his son into a hug, "you breathe. Then, perhaps we ask your maman to help with the outfit? She always says Remy would still be wearing cargo shorts if she hadn't intervened."

"Hey Pa?" Ace mumbled into Remy's shoulder. "Thanks. For... you know."

"Remy knows," he pressed a kiss to the top of his son's head. "And Remy is always here. Now, let's go raid your closet before your maman gets home and vetoes everything."

As they headed inside, Remy watched his son practically bouncing with nervous excitement. He remembered that feeling – still felt it sometimes when your smile caught him off guard – and sent up a quiet prayer that Sky would see the treasure that Ace was.

"Pa?" Ace called from halfway up the stairs. "Do you think it's too much if I learn to make paper cranes before tomorrow?"

Remy's heart swelled with love for this wonderful boy who had taught him so much about courage and being true to oneself. "Remy thinks that sounds parfait."

And if Remy spent the next hour watching origami tutorials with his son, well, that's what fathers were for.

The coffee shop buzzed with afternoon energy as Ace fidgeted with the small paper crane hidden in his jacket pocket. After hours of practice (and a small mountain of crumpled attempts), he'd managed to fold one that didn't look completely terrible. Inside, in his neatest handwriting, he'd written: "Thank you for making the world a little brighter."

He'd arrived fifteen minutes early, partly because Mom had insisted it was polite, and partly because his nerves wouldn't let him wait at home any longer. Chip had tried to tag along ("I'll be your wingman!"), but thankfully Pa had intervened, distracting him with the promise of teaching him to make gumbo.

The bell above the door chimed, and Ace's heart did a somersault. Sky walked in, their azure hair catching the sunlight, wearing a oversized sweater decorated with tiny embroidered stars. They'd added a new pin to their collection – a sparkly rainbow telescope that read "See the Universe Differently."

"Hi," Sky said, sliding into the seat across from him. Their smile was soft and slightly nervous, making Ace feel better about his own butterflies. "You look nice."

Ace silently thanked Mom for helping him pick out the dark blue button-down that brought out his eyes. "So do you. I like your new pin."

"Thanks!" Sky touched it reflexively. "I got it at the science museum last weekend. They had this amazing exhibit about perspective and how different cultures see the same constellations..."

They launched into an enthusiastic explanation about Indigenous star stories versus Greek mythology, their hands dancing as they spoke. Ace found himself leaning forward, captivated not just by the subject but by Sky's infectious passion.

"Oh gosh," Sky caught themselves, blushing. "I'm rambling. We should probably order?"

"No, it's fascinating!" Ace insisted. "I had no idea the Big Dipper had so many different stories. Though, uh, coffee would be good too."

They approached the counter together, shoulders brushing. Sky ordered a lavender latte with oat milk, while Ace got his usual iced mocha. When he reached for his wallet, Sky gently touched his arm.

"Let me? You can get the next one... if you want there to be a next one?"

Ace's cheeks warmed. "I'd like that."

Back at their table, they fell into easy conversation. Sky asked about the GSA's upcoming projects, and Ace shared his ideas for an art showcase featuring LGBTQ+ student work.

"That's brilliant!" Sky's eyes lit up. "Art can say things that words sometimes can't. Like those paper cranes you keep finding."

Ace's hand instinctively touched his pocket. "About those..." He took a deep breath, channeling his Pa's advice about being brave enough to be himself. "I actually... here."

He pulled out the crane, slightly squished but still recognizable, and placed it in Sky's palm.

Sky's expression softened as they carefully unfolded it, reading the message inside. For a moment, they were quiet, and Ace's heart thundered in his chest.

"You know," Sky said finally, their voice gentle, "I've been leaving those cranes hoping you'd find them. Most of them were meant for you."

"Really?"

Sky nodded, pulling their backpack onto their lap. From a side pocket, they retrieved a small tin. Inside were dozens of tiny, perfectly folded cranes in various patterns – stars, rainbows, galaxies. "I've been practicing for months, but I never had the courage to give you one directly."

Ace laughed, relief and joy bubbling up. "I spent all night learning to make just one!"

"It's perfect," Sky declared, carefully refolding Ace's crane and tucking it into their tin. "My first crane looked like it had been stepped on by an elephant."

"You should have seen my first attempts. My little brother made one into a paper airplane and launched it at my Pa."

They shared stories about their families – Sky's two moms who ran an art gallery, Ace's amazing parents and hurricane of a little brother. The afternoon slipped away, punctuated by laughter and shared smiles.

As the sun began to set, painting the coffee shop in warm gold, Sky reached across the table and tentatively took Ace's hand.

"Thank you," they said softly. "For being brave enough to make me a crane."

Ace interlaced their fingers, marveling at how natural it felt. "Thank you for making me want to be brave."

Later, when Mom picked him up (because of course she had parked around the corner "just in case"), her knowing smile said everything.

"Good date?" she asked, though his glowing face surely gave it away.

"The best," Ace sighed happily, pulling out his phone where Sky had already texted:

*Next time, let me teach you how to make galaxy-patterned ones? 🌌🦋*

He quickly replied: *Only if you let me buy the coffee 🌟*

"You know," Mom said as they drove home, "when your Pa first asked me out, he knocked over an entire bookshelf trying to impress me with his knowledge of French literature."

"Pa told me," Ace grinned. "But did he tell you I almost knocked over the creamer display trying to help Sky with their coffee?"

Mom laughed, reaching over to squeeze his hand. "Like father, like son."

And somehow, that felt exactly right.

Three months into dating Sky, and Ace still couldn't believe how perfect everything felt. They'd fallen into a comfortable rhythm – study dates at the library, GSA meetings, afternoons in the park where Sky would sketch while Ace read to them from whatever book he was currently devouring. Each day brought new paper cranes, now exchanged between them like secret messages, carrying words of affection and support.

But there was one secret Ace hadn't shared yet, one that made him increasingly anxious as their relationship deepened. It wasn't just about being trans anymore – Sky had proven wonderfully supportive of that part of him. No, this secret was about the way electronics seemed to malfunction around him when his emotions ran high, about the strange calm that radiated from him when he was centered, about the way he could sometimes feel the energy flowing through everything and everyone around him.

The revelation came unexpectedly, as such things often do.

They were all in the backyard – Mom tending her garden, Pa grilling (and occasionally making the flames dance for his own amusement), and Chip practicing his newly discovered ability to create small force fields by bouncing energy off Ace's passive energy field. Sky was supposed to come over for dinner in an hour, giving Ace plenty of time to help Mom finish setting up the patio for their meal.

"Ace!" Chip called out, his face scrunched in concentration. "Watch this! I figured out how to make them bigger!"

Before anyone could stop him, Chip channeled a massive burst of energy toward Ace's natural field. Normally, Ace could absorb and redirect such energy – it was why he and Chip made such good training partners. But this time, the sheer magnitude caught him off guard.

The resulting explosion of energy sent a wave of pure calm radiating outward, strong enough to make every electronic device in a two-block radius temporarily shut down. The garden lights flickered, Pa's phone died, and the neighbor's wind chimes suddenly went still.

And there, standing at the garden gate with wide eyes and a handful of paper cranes, was Sky.

"I can explain," Ace said quickly, his heart racing as the energy around him pulsed with his anxiety. The garden lights began to strobe in response to his distress.

"Mon fils, breathe," Pa called from the grill, his own powers keeping the flames steady despite the energy fluctuations. "Remember what we practiced."

Sky hadn't moved, their eyes taking in everything – the dying lights, Chip's guilty face, the strange stillness in the air around Ace.

"I'm sorry," Ace whispered, trying to rein in his powers. "I should have told you sooner. I just... I was scared. Being trans was one thing, but being a mutant too... I didn't want it to be too much."

"Too much?" Sky's voice was soft as they stepped through the gate. The paper cranes in their hand rustled gently in the energy field still radiating from Ace. "Ace, you make the world calmer just by existing in it. How could that ever be too much?"

Mom and Pa exchanged knowing looks as Sky moved closer to Ace, reaching out to take his trembling hand. The moment they touched, the energy field stabilized, the lights stopped flickering, and a profound sense of peace settled over the yard.

"Oh," Sky breathed, feeling the gentle wave of tranquility that always emanated from Ace when he was content. "Is this what you feel all the time?"

"Kind of," Ace admitted. "I can sense and manipulate passive energy. Usually, I can control it better, but when Chip gets excited..."

"Sorry!" Chip called out, not sounding sorry at all. "But hey, at least now Sky knows why their phone always has full battery when they're around you!"

Sky's eyes widened. "Is that why? I thought I just had really good battery life lately!"

"Yeah," Ace ducked his head, embarrassed. "I kind of... subconsciously share calm energy with people I care about. It can affect electronics too."

"That's amazing," Sky squeezed his hand. "Though it does explain why my laptop never gets the spinning wheel of death when we study together."

"You're... really okay with this?" Ace asked hesitantly.

Sky pulled out one of their paper cranes – this one made from galaxy-patterned paper – and handed it to him. "Open it."

With slightly shaky fingers, Ace unfolded the crane. Inside, in Sky's flowing handwriting, were the words: "You make my world more magical just by being in it."

"I wrote that before I knew about your powers," Sky said softly. "And it's still true. Maybe even more true now."

The garden lights suddenly blazed brilliantly before settling into a warm, steady glow – a physical manifestation of the joy surging through Ace.

"Remy thinks this calls for a celebration!" Pa declared, flipping a burger with a unnecessarily dramatic flame flourish. "Sky, you like your burger medium-rare, non?"

"And now you know why we never have to worry about Pa's grilling getting out of control," Mom laughed, coming over to hug both Ace and Sky. "Welcome to our peculiar little family."

"Does this mean you can teach me how to make glowing paper cranes?" Sky asked Ace excitedly. "Because I have so many ideas..."

"After dinner," Mom insisted. "And after we explain the house rules about powers. Rule one being no using Ace as an energy battery for art projects without supervision."

"That was one time," Chip protested. "And the scorch marks mostly came out of the ceiling!"

As his family began sharing increasingly embarrassing stories about power-related mishaps, Ace felt the last of his anxiety melt away. Sky hadn't run. They were still here, still holding his hand, still looking at him like he was something wonderful.

"Hey," Sky whispered, bumping their shoulder against his. "Think you could teach me how to make those galaxy-pattern cranes actually sparkle?"

Ace smiled, letting a tiny pulse of energy make the paper crane in Sky's hand glow softly. "I think we can figure something out."

And as his family gathered around the patio table, powers on casual display – Pa making the candles dance, Mom using her enhanced strength to effortlessly move furniture, Chip creating tiny force field bubbles to catch falling napkins – Ace realized that sometimes the best secrets were the ones you got to share with the people you loved.

Even if those secrets occasionally caused neighborhood-wide power fluctuations.

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