#i added the dialouge prompt from my own list bc i needed. more inspo ^^;

[companionwolf]

pride month drabble challenge fill #1

prompts: 15. Transmasc + 9. Moonlight + 7. "Do you ever get afraid?" (prompts)

fandom: XCOM 2 (gen verse)

TWs/CWs: none

---

They're standing on the flight deck with Central, the cold moonlight turning them both silver black blue. Beside them, their XO stares out over the railing toward the distant glittering night shine of a city center.

His breath fogs in the air, and the Commander wishes they had those stupid sweaters still. They itched but they were warm, and the wind that rushes over the deck is frigid enough that they'd be willing to wear the damn thing again.

The Commander studies Central's face. He looks like they've always wished, no longer the clean and proper young man he was, more rugged and just--

Their stomach twists.

Masculine. Almost stereotypically so. He has it so effortlessly. They never will-- they don't know the state of gender affirming health care now and frankly? They'd rather not; it'd make them cry more than everything already does.

But they look at Central and they're envious. They look at him and they want to wear his skin. They look at him and mourn what they can't be.

Their capture did nothing to help. They guess it's nice that they didn't age, but... that's time they've lost. They'll never get it back. Time they could have--

Could have what? No time for transitioning when the world's on fire, they think bitterly.

Central looks over at them.

"You're looking awfully pensive," he says. "Something eating you, Commander?"

"Do you ever get afraid?" they ask.

Their central officer's mouth drops a bit in a frown. "Not sure I'm following," he says. "Of the aliens? The war? The Chosen? What's next? You're gonna need to be--"

"Of -- of not getting --"

Their voice trails off. What does their dysphoria matter, in this time? So meaningless admist the horrors. They shove their hands in their pockets and look at their feet.

Central's eyes are on them. "Ohhh," he says as they try not to meet his gaze. "Ohh, you think you don't deserve to talk about whatever it is, I see."

He scoffs. "Well, I think you do," he says, looking back out at the city center. "Even if it seems small to you, it still means something. You should get to talk about it."

"Thanks, Central," they say.

"So what is it?"

They take a long breath of the crisp cold air, feel it burn in their chest. "I'm not who I'm supposed to be," they say, hesitantly. "And I probably won't ever get to be."

Central's looking at them again.

Their stomach churns under his soft gaze. "Stop," they say. "Stop, you're pitying me."

"I am not," he retorts. "I still don't even really get it but maybe I don't have to. This is a trans thing, right?"

They nod.

"I won't ever know what that's like," Central continues. "I won't claim that I would or will, but..." He pauses. "I don't know, if I can help somehow, I'd like to."

The Commander shifts weight from foot to foot, is still avoiding eye contact. "I don't know what you could even do," they say. "I mean, besides what you do already, with pronouns and..."

"Yeah, but that's just being a decent human," Central says.

"Maybe that's all I can really ask, all you can really do," the Commander says. "Not like you can just manifest a surgeon or HRT or whatever."

"If I could I would," he says. "I could... someone has to be helping folks in the resistance transition. I'll look around."

The Commander smiles a little, shuffles a little closer to Central.

"You're right," they say. "There has to be somebody, something." They hesitate. "I just...sometimes I feel like I'm alone, and that it'll never happen, and that I have to settle. That's what I mean."

"You shouldn't ever have to settle," Central says. "Not on something like this-- when it's about yourself and your life and..." He struggles a second. "You should get to be happy."

The Commander wants to reach for his hand. They don't. Instead they say, "You should too."

He looks away, back toward the cityscape and its neon lights. "I've got mine," he says. "Your turn now, Commander."

The Commander closes the distance between them, leans on him. "What if we both got ours? Got to be happy?" they say. "What about that, Central?"

Central stiffens under their weight, and then relaxes a bit. "I'd like that," he says, his voice quiet, slow. The Commander can feel his body rising and falling with each breath under their ear.

"Me too," they say. "Me too."