Chapter Text
Sitting and reflecting on good times was never a thing Jean had the pleasure of doing. The only good time he could come to think of most days was when all the misery had already been washed away by that nights pick out of the large aray of expensive wines and alcohols hidden away in the closet.
That isn't exactly to say there wasn't anything good in spys life, quite the contrary, He had a beautiful fiance who he was to marry and a lovley baby boy who he had gotten to name. Jeremy was his proudest accomplishment, he wanted to be the best parent to him to make up for what he didn't have.
Despite having the two things most men want in life, a lovely fiance and a kid, he still felt as if something was missing. Jean had been with Rosalie for four years and engaged for two. He had proposed soon after finding out Rosalie was pregnant with their son. He had the life most would die for, the life he almost died for and yet he still was unsatisfied.
He always pushed it aside and decided it was just something everyone felt. That night when he sat down to dinner wasn't much different than the rest. They were having steak and garlic potatoes for dinner. He ate slowly while listening to his fiance talk about her day. He hummed and nodded in agreement every once in a while showing he was paying attention till she asked a question.
"I was down at the thrift today and I found a lovely pink nightgown, the only problem is I found a rip in the seams in the back and was wondering if you could hem them, I was going to tonight but I have to get Jeremy up early, can you please?"
He looked at her and nodded taking in what she said "of course mon amor" he said kindly before getting up and putting his plate in the sink. He stood and watched as she finished feeding Jeremy his potato's then stood taking his plate into the kitchen aswell.
"Thank you for this" she said as she kissed his cheek before grabbing Jeremy to put him to bed. He smiled as he watched them then walked over to the den where the sewing kit and night gown were already laid out.
He poured himself a glass of red wine and sat inspecting the night gown. It was a nice shade of light pink and made of a decently soft nylon. He flipped it and looked at the rips, the stitches were torn down the shoulder strap making the back hang off on one side. Swiftly he picked up a sewing needle and got to work, he carefully patched the gown trying not to make the stitches too big or too noticable. As he worked he polished off his glass and turned on the radio for some quiet music.
Once he had finished the sewing he pulled on it softly to make sure everything was secure, when satisfied with his work he set it down and put the sewing kit away. For a while he just sat looking at the garment before grabbing it to put in the hamper. After dropping the night gown in the hamper he started the shower and closed the door locking it to not wake up Rosalie or Jeremy.
He slowly undressed then stepped into the shower grabbing the body wash. Truth be told as slow as he was going he was not a fan of showers or getting undressed at all, even if he did it twice a day. Something always felt off about seeing his body. He was skinny with very little extra fat and very scarce muscle. That's not what bothered him though, he couldn't quite put his finger on it but he had always felt he looked wrong, that something was missing.
He ran the soap over his body trying not to pay much attention and get the task done quickly. After washing the smokey scent from his hair and body from the many cigarettes he'd smoked that day, he stood in the warm water letting it run down his body. Moments like these were the few where he allowed himself to get caught up in his mind. He thought about his wife, his son, and himself. He thought about how he felt wrong, he couldn't place his finger on it but something about him didn't fit. He had looked at other father's, playing ball, leading the family, being what it meant to be a man.
He never liked that idea, how certain things define you're a man. He never liked to play ball, he never lead the family. Instead he liked to cook, plan romantic dinners, listen to music, and read. He felt the roles of mother and father didn't make sense. He was nurturing, kind, and loved his family more than anything. He always brushed off those thoughts, they didn't explain why he felt the way he did. Jean never liked the idea of being a strong family leading man, he more so found the idea of motherhood appealing. But any man can feel that way.
As he turned off the water jean grabbed his towel and stepped out of the tub. These thoughts would bring him nowhere and there was no point in dwindling on them. He looked in the mirror, slicking his wet hair back to get a better look at his face. His cheekbones we're sharp and high, framing his strong nose and long gap between his lips and nose. His face was rather pale other than the five o'clock shadow he adorned and his thick dark eyebrows. Grabbing the razor he quickly shaved the stubble blooming on his face. He had always liked the look of his face more when it was smooth and soft. He thought it looked more pleasing, more pretty.
Swiftly he dried off and placed his robe on looking in the mirror once more. His hair was black and getting rather long, the top, kept slicked back, was long enough to reach his jaw, as the back had just reached to kiss his shoulders. He dried his hair and let it down. For a moment he just stared, he never left it down but it looked..better. Jean ran his hands through his hair and let if fall again. It framed his face nicely and hid his cheekbones making his face look rounder, less jagged. Looking at himself like this something felt different, it felt familiar yet so new. Like something he had always known yet just found.
Soon he found himself making different faces, trying to see how to hold his face to make it look smoothest, how to make his face look soft and not sharp, not strong. As he looked he put his hand on the counter knocking something off into the sink. The loud clink knocked him out of his trance and he looked down to see what it was. He picked it up and looked at the object, it was a tube of lipstick. It was the lipstick he had gotten for his fiance on their first anniversary, it was a deep red, almost like blood or a berry wine. He had chosen it because he adored the color, he swatched it on his hand and saw how it made his skin glow.
Cautiously he opened the tube and looked at it, it was well worn with only a small amount remaining. He looked in the mirror then at the tube again. Slowly he brought the tube up to his lips applying a messy layer on the top and bottom. When he was done he set the tube down and glanced at himself. He stepped back to take it in. The hair and the lipstick creating a new person a more...fitting...person.
Soon his eyes blurred and his breathing sped.
This is not right. None of it. He should feel disgusted. He should be mainly, strong, rough. Not as he is. He shouldn't look in the mirror like this and feel pretty, he shouldn't have ever even gone this far. Shakily he turns on the water and throws his hands in using the back of his hand to wipe the lipstick off. Tears stream down his face as he looks in the mirror again. His face is red, hair tossed, lipstick smeared down his cheek. All this and he still can't help but feel pretty.
Grabbing the hand towel he wiped his face getting the last of the lipstick off before throwing it in the hamper. Only this time he can't bring himself to look in the mirror before leaving the bathroom. Slowly and quietly he makes his way to his bedroom finding his fiance in bed. He breaths deeply before climbing in bed behind her and holding her close.
He had heard of these people before. These people who one day start dressing and acting like the opposite gender. Before he could never fathom why people should do this. He would always hear Rosalie or others talk bad about them, how they are creeps or pedophiles. How they are running the body god gave them and how if they will always be how they were born. He steadied his breathing before holding onto his fiance tighter.
It would all be okay, he had to be wrong, there is no way he could be one of them. He had never even questioned being a man before and putting on a little lipstick wasn't going to change that. As he laid there only one thing could pass though his mind. He wanted to be beautiful again.