Work Text:
How they were perceived never really mattered to the both of them. When at restaurants, the waiter asked, what the ladies would like for drinks, and Jon had his hair untied, falling on his back and wore a skirt, or if the gentlemen would like the dessert card if Georgie had forgone shaving this morning out of tiredness or a sense of not caring. They had a laugh at their flat afterwards, mimicking the voices in exaggerated fashion.
It never came as surprise to either of them.
Except when it did, when it hurt like a burn, a punch in the gut.
And Jon would excuse himself to go to the men’s bathroom to have a little cry till Georgie knocked, hugged him and went with her fingers through his hair; and Georgie would shut down until Jon took her hand, kissed it and said that his girlfriend would like a piece of their apple pie.
Some waiters, attendants, officers apologised, others only gave an annoyed huff, rolled their eyes and did the bare minimum of interaction with them.
Gender was deeply important to them, and their grandmothers played a significant part in how Jon and Georgie matured.
The first holidays after the Michaelmas term when Jon told his grandmother why he cut his hair short, was one of the most memorable days of his life. She had looked at him with a sense of loss. Not hate or disappointment, just a loss of her granddaughter, whom she had taught how to braid his hair, and explained the social norms that he should adhere to as a girl. She accepted him, called him Jonathan, and used the correct pronouns, but their contact dwindled with time. At her funeral in his last year of uni, none of her friends recognised him, since his grandmother never told anyone else. Jon called Georgie outside of the cemetery, cigarette shaking in his hand, and she didn’t console him; didn’t tell him it was because she was from a different generation or out of a sense of shame. Just told him that he should leave and get his ass back here so they could eat ice cream and study.
When Georgie took her grandmother’s name, long after she had died, a part of her became alive again. She was the one who critiqued her parents when they wouldn’t let Georgie grow her hair out, gifted her dolls and prepared her for a hard life standing up for herself. When friends of her nan came around, they were friendly to her, haven been told of her lovely granddaughter before, even if they knew her by a nickname of her deadname, rather than Georgina. It was a shock when she died, but since it happened long before she got to uni, no one knew the meaning of her name. Jon did, but he had helped her through many phases where she felt as if she didn’t deserve her grandmothers name. He helped her sort through the clutter in her nan’s attic, in which they found a diary where she wrote how she hoped Georgie would find happiness with herself. Jon reminded her that she had basically given Georgie her blessing, and got out the ice cream.
So maybe the only constant in their freezer was ice cream, way more than a students allowance would usually spare. It was a ritual for the both of them, standing up against bigots, crying, and eating desserts that hurt their teeth while watching shitty romcoms. Jon would sit in her lap, wear Georgie’s skirts, while she braided his hair and scratch his neck with her stubble.