I wish you would write a girl alex sequel fic ššš u know what it should be about
"Absolutely not," Lando says when George walks out of the bedroom in a frilly top, an a-line blue miniskirt and grey compression shorts long enough that they stick out well past the hem. Alex, who has seen George leave the house in worse than this, keeps her mouth closed and stretches on the couch, acknowledging that it's going to be a while before they can leave for the bar.
"Why not?" George asks, offended.
"It looks stupid," Lando says.
"If I don't wear them, then I'm going to stick to the barstools," George says, crossing her arms.
"And the layer of skin is the price you pay."
"Well, that's stupid," George says. Alex reassures herself that 'looks stupid' and 'is stupid' is still a slightly more mature argument than 'you're stupid - no you.' They're adults.
"I hate you," Lando says. Alex takes it back, they're at primary school level. "I can't believe you're making me enforce the rules of girliness. We're supposed to be enforcing them together, that's also one of the rules."
"You don't have to," George says and Alex stirs. They are now in the danger zone of a George rapture on the gender prison and it's just as annoying as her previous feminist rants, with less space for Alex to push back.
"I do, I won't be seen with you like that. Go change," Lando says. George puffs up. "And put some stickers on your nipples jesus christ."
George tries to look down like she can see them. Which maybe she could, she's got quite a pair of headlights on her. Her breasts haven't grown much, per se, probably the fault of their diet, but there have been some enhanced visibilities, as it were.
"What if you wore a longer skirt," Alex decides to get involved because she's tired and ready to go, and because she's all of those things she uses her power move. "That black one you have that's just like Susie's would go well."
It seems to work because George turns around peaceably and goes back into the bedroom.
Lando throws herself down on the couch, her own patterned skirt attempting to turn into a belt. "I'm going to kill her."
Alex pats her thigh. She hadn't anticipated how much George's experiences would bump and scrape her against all of the parts of her own experience of feminity that most made her feel trapped. It's like she's been living in a box with knives and had found a couple of positions where they didn't poke her and then George would get super frustrated trying to make her eyeliner match and whining to Alex; she wants it to look good and she wants it to be easy and she wants to do it herself and that's one of those time-money-quality triangles that George doesn't seem to have the patience for. She literally stomped her foot like a toddler and Alex imagined the 5 red lights in her mind until her brain went quiet. Attachment is the root of suffering. Like Lando said, she doesn't want to be the enforcer of all these stupid rules, just because she knows them. It's not like they were easy for her to learn; everything George is trying took Alex three times as long to master. George doesn't know she isn't supposed to complain about it.
Alex changes the subject, she's tired of running that hamster wheel. "You know what's worse? George was right about me." Lando hums an agreeing noise, hears the second clause and switches to a hiss. Alex barrels on. "I am a lesbian." She's dating a woman; she's been fixated on her for years, George had her number and she didn't even know.
Lando cackles. "Actually, yes, that's incredible, I'm going to tell Max." She pulls out her phone, and she's still typing when George comes out, barely sparing her a glance at her more reasonable outfit. She only puts her phone away to bend over to clip her feet into her shoes, at which point she sees the trainers George has put on. "Absolutely not. Change. Your. Fucking. Shoes."
Alex sighs and loads the lights into her head. It's going to be a long night.