Keep 'em guessing

[gwenchan]

Fandom: Hetalia

Characters: HWS Hungary/Erzsebet Hedervary; HWS Poland/Feliks Lukiasewidz; HWS Prussia/Gilbert Beilshmidt

Rating: Teen

Additional Tag: Alternate Universe_Humans; Nonbinary Hungary; Genderfluid Hungary; Cross-dressing Poland; Gender not-conformity; Slice of Life

Promtp: Dio Benedica chi è

The purple lipstick will go perfectly with the shade of Erzsi's shirt, a linen button-down of a matte pale green, with straight lines that do wonders to hide whatever curve their body might have.

They have stripped the jacket for the moment, pursuing their lips while examining critically to decide if applying another layer of lip balm. They flick a lip liner the same shade of lipstick, wondering for what type of lips they're going tonight.

Behind them, someone cackles.

"I thought you said you weren't a girl today," a raucous, unpleasant voice calls from across the room. Slouched onto Erzsi's love seat Gilbert Beilshmidt is a homicide waiting to happen.

"Wow, your ignorance and superficiality are only matched by your ego." Erzsi makes a face, though mostly for themselves. From where he is, Gilbert can't much see past their back.

"You are wearing makeup," Gilbert points out, his voice as if carrying the truth of the universe. Worse, he sounds like something Erzsi has learnt to recognise all too well, a dude about to mansplain.

They take a deep breath. They are not going to have their mood ruined because Gilbert Beilshmidt decided to stick around after having popped in to borrow some sugar.

"Men wore make up for centuries. And this is not a girl lipstick. It's my lipstick."

"Actually, it's, like, mine."

Fresh from the shower, Feliks is leaving a trail of wet prints onto the carpeted floor. He marches toward a drawer, rummaging. When he emerges, he's holding a shining bundle of fabric Erzsi knows well. That sparkling dress has been their last Christmas gift.

Feliks throws it onto the bed and continues his search. Lace padded bra, panties and pantyhose flies across the room.

Busy drawing a cupid bow on their upper lip, Erzsi chuckles. Then checks the lipstick. "Yes, it's yours," they admit. "Now let's hope our friend's brain here doesn't explode."

"Why? Does he, like, have a brain?" Feliks asks, with fake innocence, wiggling into his panties.

"Listen, it's already difficult keeping track. Like are you a boy or a girl?" Gilbert exclaims, making Erzsi reconsider their patience. Some people just don't get it. Unfortunately for them, Gilbert Beilshmidt is some people.

"Wow, indiscreet much."

"Just answer. Cut it with the SJW crap."

Uncapping the lipstick, Erzsi thinks they could explain it easy and cis-friendly. They could. But Gilbert doesn't deserve that.

"Most of the time neither. And sometimes I feel like a girl. And sometimes like a boy," they say, bending toward the mirror to see better.

"It doesn't make sense."

"Not my problem. If it makes sense to me, I'm good."

"Yes. Fine, but what are you tonight?"

"First of all, who. I'm not a thing, Beilshmidt. Second, right now I'm someone who will kick your ass if you don't tone down the bigotry. Also, someone who thinks this lipstick will slap with this outfit.

Gilbert groans in frustration, music for Erzsi's ears. "And you," he turns to Feliks, busy adjusting his bra. "Now don't tell me you are cis."

"I could, like. But I don't like lying," Feliks answers as he checks the dress to find the front and the back.

"Said the one wearing a mini-dress and women lingerie."

There's a momentary pause when Gilbert has to duck last minute to avoid a lipstick Erzsi throws right at his head. "Next time I won't be so kind," they warn. They grab a handful of their locks, critically, unsure what look they are going for tonight and how mysterious and confusing they want to be.

"I could be wearing a cat-suit. But, like, I still wouldn't be a cat. Also, don't tie it," Feliks comments, while Erzsi wraps her hair around her wrist, experimentally, to try for a bun. "We, like, don't owe them anything."

"Yes, you are perfectly right," Erzsi confirms, as they let their hair cascading past their shoulders. The more they can confuse the cis and their precious, oh so precious, boxes, the better.

Keep 'em guessing, isn't it?

They do not owe them any explanations. They do not owe them clarity or easy answers; to Gilbert or any other cis-dude crying for the world to answer their self-established rules.

"Of course I am," Feliks says, taking their cosmetic bag without asking permission. Erzsi doesn't mind. Feliks always borrow some of their make-up, just as much as they do with Feliks', so in the end, they are even. Tapping their fingers on the vanity, they tilted their head to the mirror to examine their lips in search of a spot they missed and traces of lipstick on their teeth.

"You have a smudge on your cheek," Feliks inform them, with a single glance. Erzsi scoots a little to the side to make room for him at the mirror. He applies the mascara - waterproof, max volume - with practised gestures and peruses his collection of lipstick to choose the right shade of red to go with the dress.

"Do you want it?" he asks after a moment though, offering Erzsi the mascara. They accept without a word. "Need help with the lipstick?"

"Yes, please."

Not that Feliks needs help with his make-up - he's surely more practised than her. But Erzsi has found there's something nice in doing each other make-up, even more, when they do it to spite Gilbert. Since he doesn't seem likely to get the hell up and leave them alone.

But here's a truth Erzsi discovered some months ago since Gilbert began gravitating into their personal life. Gender non-conformity fascinates him more than he claims it confuses him and Erzsi knows his obnoxious masculinity is just as much as a performance.

So, it has become a routine. Each time they and Feliks decide to have a night out, their neighbour from two flats above find an excuse to visit them, to put his ass on their loveseat and act as a third wheel while they get ready. And Erzsi knows he does it because, behind the mask, in truth, he's a poor loner with no friends.

Erzsi helps Feliks to fix his lipstick and he does their contour, little touches to make their jaw a bit squarer.

"So?" They turn to Gilbert to show the final result, challenge in their eyes. "How do I look?"

"Like a sad drag. You both look like sad, messy drags."

With anyone else - and in any other time - Erzsi wouldn't let it slide, but somehow Gilbert managed to describe exactly what they were going for. Except for the sad part. But it's Gilbert. they can't pretend too much.

"Wonderful!," they clap their hands, winking at Feliks, now standing proud and gorgeous in his custom made stilettos. "Well, I'd say, we're ready."