33. Wallace
Wallace
“Hey, guys!” Ben called into the living room where Wallace could already hear a murmur of voices. “I got Wallace!”
Wallace would have hung back, but Ben continued to tug at his arm.
He hated being the center of attention.
Especially around people he didn’t know.
And… shit. He was still wearing his leggings and oversized sweater, the last thing he’d ever, ever want to wear when he met anyone new.
His gender presentation was still private. It was only an accident that Ben and Oliver had seen him dressed like this.
Maybe he could just hang back in a corner. He could hear Oliver talking to a slender man by the door from a speaker across the room.
“Hello, Wallace!” A tall android bounded up to Wallace and accosted him with a hug. “I’m so excited to meet you!”
Wallace didn’t even try to return the hug, though it went on several seconds too long.
Because his brain was broken.
First, because of the hug. A generous, snuggly hug that made him just want to collapse and enjoy it, like this stranger was his long-lost best friend.
And second, because the android was definitely a man—broad shoulders, Adam’s apple, and rugged brows—but he was wearing a purple dress with a tiny yellow half-jacket over it, and his eyes were painted to match.
Ben snorted beside them. “Down, boy. Consent, remember?”
“Oh, yes.” The spark drew back from the hug, properly chastened, but still grinning like his birthday present had arrived early.
This had to be Quincy, the bot from the trial. The garbagebot. He looked mostly human, but there were enough rough edges, just a slight sense of blockiness to his features, that declared him to be inhuman from the very first moment.
He, frankly, looked much more attractive than Wallace would have expected for a trashbot, though he had nothing on the expensive materials and algorithms that had gone into crafting Volt’s superhuman body.
His mascara made his eyes big and bright, and rouge kissed his cheeks and softened the angles. His chin came to a gentle point that didn’t quite match the width of his forehead, but all together, with his joyous personality, he was stunning.
“I apologize, Wallace.” Quincy squeezed his shoulder. “I was too enthusiastic. Would you prefer to shake hands?”
“Uh, sure.” Wallace was still reeling.
“I’m Quincy!” the spark said, holding out his hand, and shaking rapidly once Wallace took it. “And you’re Wallace and we’re going to be friends. And we’re all going to be friends. Because you’re human, and you’re dating a spark, just like me and Evan, and Ben and Oliver!”
Wallace looked around. Was this… exuberant puppy in a sparkly purple dress for real? Nobody wanted to be Wallace’s friend this much.
Except… maybe Oliver had. Maybe a lot of people had, over the past few years, and he’d been too caught up in his childhood fears and father’s conditioning to notice it.
“Okay?” he answered. If it was true, he wasn’t going to turn the offer down.
Especially not from a guy wearing makeup. Or… a transwoman? A non-binary, fem-presenting person? He shouldn’t assume.
But either way, someone who was kind of like him. Someone who had the courage to walk around outside like that. Someone who he could, maybe, ask some of the questions that had been burning in his mind.
“And we’re also all kinky!” Quincy announced proudly. “I’m Evan’s Dom.”
Wait, what?
Ben snickered. “Yes, sparklefarts here is a Dom.”
Quincy looked over at Ben quizzically, still holding Wallace’s hand since he’d never dropped it after they shook. “Ben, I don’t have sparklefarts because I cannot fart. I don’t have the equipment for that.” He looked concerned, like maybe he should get a mod to meet that need.
Wallace found himself giggling. Quincy was like Oliver times ten. Like Oliver, if he’d grown up in a room full of puppies and rainbows, and never watched a movie or interacted with the outside world.
Wallace gently extricated his hand. “I think it’s a nickname.” He was watching Ben closely, but there didn’t seem to be any malice behind it.
“Oh! I like nicknames,” Quincy confided. “Quincy used to be my nickname, but now it’s my real name.”
Wallace nodded, charmed by the oversharing. When he overshared it was awkward and depressing, but Quincy was just so bouncy and earnest that it was more like watching a show.
“Excuse me,” Wallace asked, “but can you tell me your pronouns?” He was burning to know.
“Oh, yes! I use he/him. And so does Evan. How about you?”
Wallace froze. He hadn’t expected the question to be turned around, though of course he should have. He was wearing leggings and a sweater-dress.
It was just that no one had ever looked at him before and thought to ask.
He sucked in a breath. If he was ever going to change his pronouns, now was the chance. Quincy, with his dramatic purple and yellow eye shadow and ruby lips was beaming at him, while Ben listened nearby without any sense of judgment.
But that was going too fast. “I… uh, he/him?”
The words had been feeling more itchy every time he heard them. Especially when he’d been at work, stuffed into a suit.
He still liked his suspenders and bow ties—he knew Daddy thought they were cute—but every day that he wore his boring, boxy business suits felt more like putting on a costume.
Like shoving himself into the too-tight skin of a Wollencroft son, when with it pinched and chafed more with each passing hour.
But he’d quit his job, hadn’t he?
It seemed like a thousand years ago but he realized it was only yesterday. In fact, he should have gone into work today, since he’d committed to staying through Friday.
By the look of the sunset out the dramatic living room windows, that ship had sailed. And there was no way he was going into Orbit for the rest of the week while Volt was injured. What could they do—fire him?
Which meant that he was truly, honestly done with Orbit. And the last people who knew his given pronouns were out of his life.
He was starting fresh. Clean.
“Is that a question?” Quincy asked. “Sometimes I’m not sure about what pronouns I want.”
“Uh… maybe?” It felt crazy admitting it. Exhilarating and scary at the same time. He loved being Daddy’s sweet boy and baby girl, but he’d been thinking so much recently about wearing these clothes outside…
“I was thinking about trying they/them pronouns,” Quincy told him. “Do you want to try it together? You could give me your number and we’ll talk about how it goes. Ooh! Or you could come over, and I’ll do your makeup!”
Wallace’s eyes stung, and he blinked them rapidly. How had thirty-two years of his life gone by with him thinking that no one could possibly want or understand him, and now he’d found it all in the home of the man who he’d thought was his enemy?
It was almost too much. He wanted to flee. He wanted to curl up in Daddy’s arms and just… hyperventilate for an hour or two until he could believe it was all real.
Instead, he made himself whisper, “Okay.” Then he added, “But not yet.” He needed time to prepare. A lot of time.
Quincy beamed.
A man came up behind Quincy and wrapped an arm around his waist, extending the other hand to Wallace for a shake. “Hey, I’m Evan. Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” Wallace replied automatically.
“Wallace uses he/him pronouns right now,” Quincy explained, like it wasn’t tipping Wallace’s world on its axis. “But we might switch to they/them or she/her together pretty soon.”
Evan seemed to be repressing a laugh. Probably because Quincy was so unbelievably guileless and exuberant. “That sounds like a good plan.” He made it sound like it wasn’t a big deal. Like people just did this every day.
If Wallace was fascinated by Quincy, he was almost as interested in Evan. By this human man who was dating a nonbinary spark and was also… submissive? Because he had to be, if Quincy was his Dom, right?
Evan looked so normal. He was a couple inches shorter than Quincy and his frame a bit more narrow, but only because Quincy’s shoulders were so wide.
His hair was a messy brown, and his belly was soft.
He definitely wasn’t a twink. Just… normal.
Though his shirt said Always be yourself.
Unless you can be a narwhal. Then, be a narwhal.
There was a picture of a chubby, smiling cartoon narwhal on a rainbow background.
He clearly wasn’t shy about people knowing that he was gay. Straight men didn’t wear shirts with rainbow narwhals.
“I like your shirt,” Ben commented, clearly noticing it when Wallace did.
Wallace stepped back, glad to have someone, anyone, pick up the conversation so he could have a moment to breathe.
“Thanks!” Evan lit up. “Quincy got it for me.” He kissed his partner’s cheek, like this very queer casual affection was just an everyday occurrence, too.
Like maybe it was something Wallace could have. All the time. With friends.
“I got him a narwhal cup, too!” Quincy added, oblivious to any faux pas he might have committed by crowing about his own gift-giving prowess.
“Yes, you did,” Evan agreed as they grinned at each other. “And I love it.” They pressed their lips together in a sweet, loving kiss, and Wallace couldn’t look away.
Was that what he looked like with Volt? Well, not quite the same, but was that how they looked at each other? How people would see them? As a happy couple in… love?
Ben pretended to gag. “Okay, enough with the mushy, kissy stuff. Break it up!”
Evan just laughed, yanking Ben in for a hug. “What, my bestie doesn’t want to hang out with his two BFFs? But we love you!” He tried to press a smoochy kiss to Ben’s cheek.
Ben yowled like a wet cat, pushing Evan away. “Eww! You’re going to get your love cooties on me.”
“And speaking of love,” Oliver’s voice joined in from somewhere above their heads. “Ben has an announcement to make.”
Ben looked around wildly. “I do not! I have absolutely no announcements to make.” He looked murderously at the coffee table, which Wallace could now see held a 360-degree camera on a short tripod.