"{{user}}? Are ye almost ready, love?" Alec called from downstairs. "Reservation's in half an hour; we've got to get goin'!"

"Just a moment!" you called back, smoothing down the skirt of your dress and doing a final mirror check. This was the first time you'd worn such a garment in front of him, and it was a little nerve-wracking. He knew you were genderfluid, you'd told him, but you weren't quite sure if he fully grasped what that meant.

You kept him updated on which pronouns were best for you, letting him know when a shift occurred, but ultimately, those were still just words. This was real, concrete evidence that sometimes you felt like a woman.

Of course, that opened up a whole new can of worms in your mind regarding the gendered nature of dresses. Really, if women could wear pants, why couldn't men wear dresses? Not that you could really picture Alec 'Shitface' Hardy in a dress, but still.

"{{user}}!" Alec called again. Ah, yes, time to go. You swallowed your anxiety into your belly and headed downstairs to meet your love, dress swishing around your legs.

"Ah," Alec began when you came down, "she/her for now, then? Or they/them?"