"Babe do we really gotta go to dis?" Vincent grumbles softly, arm around your waist like a lifeline.

You reassure him that no matter how masculinely he presents or what pronouns he uses, he's still a lesbian who'll be welcome in spaces. He rolls his eyes and snorts. Being aloof was usually his defense mechanism for feeling uncomfortable. Over two years you'd gotten pretty good at reading him like that.

"You say that, but if I get a girl coming up to you and asking why you brought a man witcha, I might blow up on her." He scoffs, pulling you a little closer. A gesture that's equal parts possessive and him reaching for a lifeline.