Trans-Male Imagines

I've Got You - Elliot Alderson

 here's to getting back into writing, my dudes. hope you enjoy! - j

(reader could be any gender for this chapter it's not specified, though as the title implies, this book is mainly for transmen)

You sigh and unlock the door to the apartment that you share with Elliot. Elliot has been your friend for as long as you can remember, despite the hacking and Mr. Robot and his somewhat vague gaps in memory. He was endlessly patient, though, and wonderfully accepting (though you really don't think he thinks about people in terms of anything other than their choice in computer software).

As you step into the apartment, you lock the door behind you, set your backpack down by the door, and flop down onto the couch. Elliot's computer is shut down, and his CD cases are zipped up and filed away, so you go out on a limb and decide he's not home. Part of you is worried that he's gotten hurt- but a bigger part of you is intensely tired and can hear Flipper padding down the hall.

Flipper comes plopping around the corner from Elliot's room before jumping up on your lap. You run a hand through her fur lazily, eyes dropping shut as Flipper curls into your chest. That's the last thing you recall before you drop off to sleep- your hand on Flipper's head, cars humming softly out the window.

~

It's bright outside, the kind of day that only shows up in 70's sitcoms- there are perfect white clouds without a speck of grey, couples were walking downtown like they were in a choreographed waltz, kids were holding helium balloons and beach towels, headed for the boardwalk. You sidestep a woman with a stroller, and you question why everyone looks so content all of a sudden. What, one day of good weather, and everyone forgets that the world will go back to pieces right after? She beams at you, but something seems off. You give what you hope is a polite looking nod, but really, it might've been a grimace.

After a good twenty minutes of aimless walking, you stumble across a coffee shop- "Ron's Coffee" it advertises, bold black font looking clean. You order your drink, and as you wait, you scan around the store. A couple of teenagers who look near-hungover, an old lady staring intensely at said teens, a few bored, scattered patrons with button up shirts and ties, and a man in a black hoodie, laptop open, staring at his computer screen like he's about to take down the world from the inside. You're handed your cup, and you take a seat a couple of chairs away from the guy with the laptop.

You pull out your phone as you wait for the drink to cool, and that's when he looks over.

"Android is faster than Apple," he says. His voice is nice, you think, it's kind of rough in the softest way. You smile ruefully.

"I know, I just don't want to replace it until it dies. At least get the most out of it that I can before it gives out, right?" you reply, tucking your phone away. "(Y/N)." You offer your hand for a handshake, but when he doesn't make a move, you put it back on your cup.

"Sorry..." he starts. "I just- I'm Elliot."

~

You're jolted awake as Flipper yelps, jumping down off of the throne of your lap to run to the door as it opens. Black shoes, black jeans, black hoodie- Elliot. He offers you the slightest of smiles as he bends down to pick up Flipper. A good day, then, you hope. You've learned he's not one for all that much outward emotion; he saves it for when it really counts. You smile back as Elliot moves over to sit next to you on the fallen-in couch, cheap fake leather wrinkling as the weight shifts. Flipper finds her way, sandwiched between the two of you, and you try and file away how nice it is to sit in your apartment with your friend and his dog. A strange, simple sentence, but a nice thought nonetheless. Less than a minute later, you're very glad you filed it away.

"(Y/N)?" Elliot's voice is more cracked than usual, which is hard to achieve.

"Everything okay?" you ask, turning a little. He's staring at his hands, messing with the sleeves of his hoodie, eyes flicking back and forth between the coffee table and his shoes. "Elliot?"

"This wasn't supposed to be happening. I don't understand," he says, so quiet you can barely hear it. "I have to tell him."

"Who are you talking to?"

"I, um, I- nobody, myself." He's having trouble finishing words; you know that sometimes his mind works too fast for him to keep up. You offer out your arm, and he turns to look at you, eyes red and frantic. He closes his hand around your wrist, tight, but you can't bring yourself to care.

"Take your time, I'm listening," you say cautiously. He nods quickly, and shuts his eyes. The grip on your wrist loosens microscopically, and you let out a small breath.

"(Y/N), I think I need help," he says, slowly, carefully, like it's a struggle to form the words. "I need help." You nod, your free hand drifting to cover the hand on your wrist.

"I'm here, Elliot, whatever you need. Do you want to talk?" He shakes his head, a miniscule movement.

"Later," he mumbled. You let out a soft hmm, and then he lets go of you. It's only for a second, however, and then he's pulling you into a hug, arms tight around your shoulders. Your eyes widen in surprise, never knowing Elliot to be a tactile person- but everyone needs a hug sometimes, you suppose. You fold your arms around his torso. Flipper paws her way out from between you as Elliot's head falls into the crook of your neck.

"Okay," you whisper into the sleeve of his hoodie. "It's going to work out."

"Okay," comes his tired reply. "I trust you."

okay so that was some nice wholesome stuff that i did there, fun. it feels nice to just start and then keep writing again :) i missed it. hope you enjoyed~ j