Chapter Text
Ed nearly lost it when the phone nurse gave him his appointment information.
“Sorry, didn’t quite get the doctor’s name. Could you repeat that?” Ed asked, pen poised and ready to write.
“Of course. Your doctor will be Dr.Samba Roach. R-O-A-C-H. And again, your consultation is on the 21st of November, 9 AM. Call us if you have any more questions.” The nurse spoke calmly as if they got this question often.
“Awesome. Great. I’ll be there.” Ed confirmed before hanging up, writing down the doctor’s name with a giggle.
Fucking Roach. That had to be an unfortunate name to get through med school with.
~~~~~
Ed walked into Roach’s office, and smiled wide when he noticed the walls were filled with pride flags of all kinds, rainbows adorned practically every corner, and his receptionist wore a pronoun pin proudly on their name badge.
He breathed a sigh of relief. He had chosen correctly. His research had done him well.
“Hey.” Ed said, walking up to the counter, eyes meeting with a bored-looking young man (Lucius, he/him/his, his nametag read).
“Oh, great, you’re early.” Lucius said, turning in his seat to face the rest of the office.
“Hey Roach, your 9 AM’s here!” He yelled, turning back around to shove some paperwork over the counter.
“He should be out in a few. For now, just fill out this questionnaire and help yourself to the pastry of the day.” Lucius gestured towards a box that sat on an ornate table in the corner.
“Pastry of the day?” Ed asked, already making his way over to the box.
“The doctor spends his free time baking. He brings his extras here.” Lucius shrugged, taking a bite out of his own goody.
Ed grabbed what appeared to be some kind of danish, letting out a quiet moan as he bit into the sweet orange-flavored pastry.
“Is this even sanitary?” Ed asked between bites, watching as the receptionist rolled his eyes.
“It’s not like the surgery happens in this very room. And they’re in a box for a reason. You’re fine. They’re fine. Just don’t go reporting us or anything.” Lucius drawled.
And with that, Ed promptly decided to shut his mouth and sit down, finishing his pastry so he could get through his paperwork.
“Teach, Edward?” A familiar voice rang from the door.
“Edward Teach, born on a beach.” Ed responded, grabbing his bag and his paperwork as he made his way to the door.
“Pleasure to see you, we spoke-”
“-On the phone a while back. Yeah mate, I remember. Though I don’t think I ever caught your name?” Ed asked.
“You can call me Frenchie!” Frenchie beamed at him, Ed took note of the he/they pronouns they wore on their scrubs.
“If you don’t mind Edward-”
“-Call me Ed.”
“-Ed then, could you step on the scale real quick?” Frenchie asked. Ed quickly complied.
After a second a few numbers flashed on the screen.
“One sixty-nine…” Frenchie muttered, scratching it down with his pen.
“Nice.” The pair muttered at the same time, before breaking out into laughter.
Frenchie clapped a hand on his back,
“I like you Ed. Roach will too. Come on, let’s get you to your room.”
If Ed was impressed with the lobby, he wasn’t even sure how to describe his reaction to the clinic’s actual patient rooms.
Diagrams littered the walls, many of them hand-drawn, and none of them labeled “male” or “female”. A trans flag curtain hung against the wall and Ed smiled.
“Yeah, it’s a bit much but the guy we brought in to decorate the place was really happy with it. Roach wanted folks to feel welcome here, so did the designer. And I certainly can’t complain about all the colors. ‘S definitely better than my old workplace.” Frenchie said with a small shudder.
Ed shot a grin his way while he settled on the exam chair,
“Nah man, ‘s amazing. Best place I’ve ever been.”
They went over the basics, Ed’s health history, his personal journey, how much he knew about the surgery, etc. Frenchie took his vitals and gave him a dressing gown, telling him that the doctor would be in soon before they left the room.
This had been what Ed had dreaded the most about the consultation. He took a deep breath as he shimmied out of his pants, leaving his boxers on underneath. That was fine. That was normal.
His heart rate sped up as he peeled off his jacket, his arms began to shake as he took off his shirt.
It wasn’t that he hadn’t been like this in front of others before! He had been!
Granted, it had been a few years. And Ed’s underwear was often off. But one important part of him always stayed on.
Ed closed his eyes as he took off his binder, well worn and like a second skin to him at this point. He’d been binding his chest for nearly thirty years now. No one. No one had ever seen him without it.
But this had to be done if he wanted to be rid of them for good.
A knock sounded at the door and Ed hurriedly threw his binder to the floor, pushing his arms through the sleeves of the paper gown as he shouted for the doctor to come in. It was time he get out of his own head. He needed to get this done.
He hunched forward as the doctor came in, making sure none of his chest showed through the flimsy gown. It was dumb, he knew, cause he was about to be bare in mere seconds.
A tall, dark-skinned man (he/him/his) with an impressively braided beard stepped in with a large smile on his face, followed on his heels by Frenchie, who gave Ed a small smile and a wave.
“Mr.Teach! What a pleasure to have you here today. I understand you’re here for a consultation for a double mastectomy?” Roach beamed, sitting down on the chair across from Ed as Frenchie closed the door to give them privacy.
“Yep.” Ed said, reaching his hand out to greet the doctor’s outstretched one.
They shook quickly before Roach was gliding his chair over to the computer, typing rapidly as Frenchie watched over his shoulder.
“I won’t bother with the typical ‘are you sure you want this’, ‘do you understand what this means’, ‘are you aware this is permanent’ questions that surgeons typically ask. It gets annoying and quite frankly can be insulting. I know it was for me.” Roach said with a chuckle.
Ed’s eyes widened in recognition. Roach was like him.
“Frenchie here tells me you’ve been out since you were sixteen. And you’ve been binding your chest even longer. You’re lucky your spine appears to be in good condition. A lot of folks have fucked them up pretty badly. You’ve also been on testosterone since age twenty. He says you’ve been wanting this for a while now but that you haven’t able to afford it, correct?”
Ed nodded,
“Yeah. Finally got enough commissions this past year that I was able to set enough aside to do so. Did my research and you seemed like the most trans-friendly clinic that wouldn’t make me broke. I also noticed you didn’t mind workin’ with immigrants.”
“Of course we don’t mind. I’m one myself.” Roach said with a grin.
“As am I!” Frenchie piped up.
Ed bit his tongue, stopping himself from making a Hamilton reference.
“I understand that you haven’t yet procured any insurance here, if you don’t mind, I had Frenchie gather up some local resources and included them in your folder to take home today. Unfortunately, I doubt you’ll be able to be enrolled by the time your surgery comes around, but I hope it’ll still be useful.” Roach explained, handing Ed a thick folder, sprouting with papers and pamphlets of all kinds.
“I don’t know what to say.” Ed choked up a bit.
He had only been in America for a year, having recently moved from Aotearoa to try out the art opportunities overseas. It had been rough to put it lightly. He lived in a studio apartment, working gig to gig, commission to commission in hopes of being able to keep his place. Over the summer, he had been beyond lucky that a few richer clients had spread the word of his work, earning himself a summer full of jobs, but also a bank full of more cash than Ed had ever had in his life. His career was finally looking up.
“Don’t bother. We do this shit all the time. ‘S a bitch getting health care here. Anyway we can make it easier, that’s what we do. That’s why we do free consultations and shit. You won’t find any extra charges for your surgery as well. We only do the essentials.” Frenchie explained.
“How do you keep this place running?” Ed asked.
“Donations.” Roach explained,
“We have some very generous donors that help keep us going. Helps us make a living wage and helps us keep the lights on. Also helps us keep your cost to a minimum. Speaking of cost…”
They talked business, so to say. Ed was shocked to hear that his surgery would likely end up way less than he had first thought.
Thank the fucking gods.
Not that it really mattered. He was going to spend the money anyways. Anything he had set aside that was leftover? He already knew it was going straight back into this place.
When Roach eventually asked him to slip his gown off it wasn’t even that big of a deal. Ed felt comfortable with him and Frenchie and while his heart rate did go up, he didn’t have the panic attack he had been expecting.
Roach explained what would be done. Ed would have two incisions and nipple grafts as well as surgical drains for the first week afterward. He was larger-breasted (ugh) so there was a chance that the two incisions would become one large one. That was fine. Ed just wanted them gone.
The obnoxiously adorable flag curtain was drawn and Ed threw his binder back on in record time, getting dressed in less than a minute. He stepped out from behind the curtain, drawing surprised gasps from the doctor and the nurse as he flashed them a grin.
“You’re a fast one.” Roach said, adjusting his coat as he stood up.
“Always prided myself in it.” Ed smiled.
“That might change a bit after surgery, your mobility will be affected for a few weeks afterward. It might take months for it to fully recover.” Roach explained, eyes turning serious.
“I’ll be fine. I’ve been through worse.” Ed brushed it off.
“Really man, it’s no joke. I was in bed for like, two weeks straight. Make sure you clear two weeks of your schedule to be safe. And definitely have someone there to take care of you.” Frenchie said.
Ed froze in his tracks as he walked out the door.
“I’ll need someone to take care of me?” Ed asked.
They both nodded.
Fuck.
Ed’s mom was gone. And his dad was…who even knew. It’s not like he would come to help anyways. His only friends were still back home. He hadn’t met anyone while in California, only acquaintances. Certainly not anyone he’d trust to see him in the state that Frenchie had described.
“I guess I’ll uh…I’ll get on that.” Ed laughed nervously, making his way to the lobby.
“If you don’t find someone, we always have our Caretaker program!” Frenchie shouted from down the hall.
“Good to know!” Ed shouted back.
He made his way to the desk, shoving the folder into his messenger bag as Lucius grinned at him.
“I take that it went well? Heard lots of chatter.” Lucius said, fingers flying across the keyboard.
“Oh yeah. Went great. Fucking love this place.” Ed replied, drumming his fingers on the counter.
“Well isn’t that great to hear.” The receptionist smiled, handing Ed a small business card,
“Your follow-up is next week. You’re lucky. It’s been real quiet around here lately for us. Typically we have a lot more clients but there’s a chance we could get you in the hospital as soon as next month. Best of luck to you. Feel free to grab another pastry on the way out.” Lucius said with a nod toward the pastry table.
Ed grabbed two. In celebration.
Everything had gone fucking fantastic. Except for the caretaker thing. But that was fine. It’s not like he was actually going to have surgery next month or anything. Lucius had just said that to get his hopes up.
~~~~~
“Excellent news, Ed. We have an opening next week on December 6th. If you feel ready for it, we can schedule your surgery that day.” Frenchie and Roach beamed at Ed as he sat down for his follow-up.
“ Shit. ” Ed breathed out.
“Fuck. I told you it would be too soon.” Frenchie turned to Roach, eyes widened in fear.
“No!” Ed shouted, throwing his arms out.
They turned back to him.
“No. It’s not. I’ll do it.” Ed said.
“Fan-fucking-tastic.” Frenchie said.
“Make sure you get everything cleared for the following two weeks. We can cover the rideshare to drop you off at the hospital. And your caretaker can pick you up-”
“Fuck. Wait. I don’t have one of those.” Ed cursed.
Roach turned away, huddling with Frenchie to whisper frantically.
“ He’s available right? ” Roach asked.
“ -Think so-I know he has-but I’m sure he can reschedule- ” Ed caught snippets of Frenchie’s hushed whispers.
“Everything okay?” Ed asked.
“Everything’s great! Our caretaker should be free. We’ll have to contact him to confirm but I imagine there’ll be no complications.” Roach smiled.
“Hold up, your ‘Caretaker Program’ is only one man?” Ed asked skeptically.
Roach shrugged,
“What can I say? We’re a small clinic. We’re lucky he can volunteer his time at all.”
“You’ll love him.” Frenchie grinned,
“He’s somewhat of an artist himself. He’s the one who decorated this place for us. Queer as a fucking rainbow. He helped me through my recovery-”
“-And me.” Roach interrupted.
“-And one of our mutual friends as well. So he knows his shit.” Frenchie finished.
“Sounds like a great guy.” Ed muttered, still hesitant to the idea of a stranger taking care of him.
Roach took him through a summary of what his surgery and recovery would look like and sent him off with a thumbs up, leaving Frenchie to set his appointment in stone.
After everything was scheduled (Scheduled! Ed could hardly believe it), Frenchie turned to him with a secretive grin.
“Technically I’m not supposed to tell you this, but Stede, the caretaker…He’s our top donor. He keeps this place open. Man has the biggest heart I’ve ever seen. He’s cis. 100%. Doesn’t even fully understand us folks but tries his damned best. Found us at the old clinic we all used to work at, when his son first has his surgery, most supportive dad I’ve ever seen. He stood in the waiting room the whole damn time, nearly biting his nails off until we told him the news. He helped Roach found the new place, helping us help others like we did his son.” Frenchie whispered, eyes getting misty.
Ed felt himself wiping at his own eyes. Fucking supportive dads. That shit always got to him.
“Can’t wait to meet him.” Ed found himself saying. And he meant it.
~~~~~
Ed slowly forced his eyes open, his entire body aching as he tried to sit up in bed. Voices buzzed around him as he took in his surroundings.
“Hey Eddie, looks like you’re finally up!” Frenchie said, smiling wide as he took his hand.
“Where am I?” Ed asked, blinking his eyes against the harsh light.
“You’re in recovery. You fucking did it man! You’re done. Took it like a champ too.” Frenchie squeezed his hand.
Suddenly Ed remembered. December 6th. Going to the hospital. Roach marking his chest with a sharpie. The IV.
He tilted his head down and saw the wraps, he felt a noticeable absence. Wetness filled his face.
“Fuck man, you okay?” Frenchie asked, patting his arm.
Ed swallowed a sob as the tears continued to fall, he smiled wider than he had in years, he felt fucking happy,
“Never better.”
“I’ll never get tired of seeing that.” A foreign voice spoke from the edge of his hospital bed.
Ed looked up and was met with the face of an angel.
His blonde curls fucking glowed with the white light of the ceiling behind him, soft hazel eyes grinned down at Ed. He wore plain (well, not plain , but also not scrubs or a labcoat) clothing and fidgeted with the edge of Ed’s blanket.
“Ed! Let me introduce you. This is your caretaker, Stede.” Frenchie said, throwing an arm around the man so he could pull him closer.
Frenchie adjusted Ed’s bed, putting him in a sitting position. Stede took Ed’s hand in a weak handshake, Ed felt embarrassed, he’d never had this little control of his body before.
“ Frenchie. ” Ed whispered, moving his finger in a ‘ get the fuck over here’ gesture.
“What’s up boss?”
“You didn’t tell me he was hot! ” Ed loudly slurred.
Stede giggled.
“Fuck. You weren’t supposed to hear that.” Ed mumbled.
“You’ll be like this for the next day or so. Roach gave you some really strong shit. Kind of removes your filter.” Frenchie chuckles.
“ Fuckkkkk me. That shit’s dangerous. I always have like, five filters in place.” Ed groaned.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Stede smiled.
Why does this man have the most gorgeous fucking smile I’ve ever seen?
Stede flushed a deep shade of red, turning sheepishly towards Frenchie.
“He’s worse off than Jim was.” Stede commented, eliciting a giggle from Frenchie.
“Who’s Jim?” Ed asked, eyes already heavy.
Ed closed them, his body already rebelling against him. He didn’t get to find out who Jim was, because as soon as his eyes shut, he was out like a fucking light.
~~~~~
The next time he was awake and aware, he was gently being prodded into his clothing, sweatpants, and a flannel button-down. He mumbled thanks to whoever had helped him and let himself be guided to the wheelchair that sat by his bed.
He stumbled as his ass left the bed, arms tightening around the body of whoever was helping him.
“I’ve got you. Just one step at a time.” A comforting voice whispered.
A distant memory came to mind, though logically Ed knew it had taken place only minutes ago.
“ Stede. ” Ed whispered, watching the man smile as he was carefully set into the wheelchair.
“That would be me.” He chuckled.
“Thanks man.” Ed said, smiling as he yet again looked down at the wrappings on his chest.
A hand clapped on his shoulder.
“Ed! Congrats on a job well done.” Roach said, crouching down so he was eye level with him.
“Roach!” Ed cried out, reaching his arms out for a hug and shouting in pain when he wasn’t able to lift them past his ribs.
“Woah. Don’t do that. Don’t want your stitches tearing already. Stede?” Roach looked behind him, Stede hummed in response.
“Don’t let him do anything stupid.”
“Of course.”
“What are you talkin’ about? Course I won’t do anythin’ stupid.” Ed muttered. Insulted that the doctor would even suggest such a thing.
“Sure you won’t. Be safe okay Ed? I’ll see you in a week to remove your drains and take off your wrappings. I’m sending you home with one of my signature 40 orange cakes. Don’t let Stede eat it all-”
“That was one time-”
“-Have a safe drive home.” Roach finished, giving Ed’s hand a firm squeeze before he walked out of sight.
“Thank you!” Ed shouted after him. Or at least, he thought he shouted. In all honesty, he had no fucking clue what the volume of his voice was.
Ed laughed his ass off as Stede wheeled him out of the hospital and to his car, making comments about how “a weight had finally been lifted off his chest” and giggling at his own shitty puns. At least Stede laughed with him. Fuck, was he a comedic genius? Maybe he should try stand-up sometime.
The car ride went great. Stede had one of those fancy cars with seatwarmers and had even gotten Ed this fancy pillow so the seatbelt wouldn’t rub up against his wrappings.
Ed sang along loudly to ABBA as it played through the car speakers, staring pointedly at Stede whenever a song mentioned an attractive-looking man. Stede kept flushing. Ed kept giggling.
Finally, they got to his apartment. Stede kept two steady (strong, muscled ) arms around Ed as they made their way to the elevator and down the hall. Somehow, he had Ed’s keys. Ed’s eyes narrowed.
“Frenchie gave them to me. You gave them to him before you went under.” Stede explained when he saw Ed’s suspicion.
“Rightttt.” Ed said. Still not convinced.
Stede gasped as he ushered Ed in, his head swiveling to look at all the art lining the walls.
“Ed, your apartment is absolutely lovely. ” Stede commented.
“Thanks, did all the art m’self.” Ed slurred.
“Wow.”
They stumbled their way to Ed’s bed, sitting him down on the edge as Stede set up a mountain of pillows for him.
“Okay. Now you’re good to lie down.” Stede said after an appropriate mound had been formed.
“Thanks man, don’t know how I could ever repay you-” Ed said as Stede maneuvered him underneath the covers.
“It’s truly no problem at all. I look forward to getting to know you after the drugs wear off of course.” Stede chuckled.
“Dunno. I can think of a few ways I can repay you.” Ed snickered, ignoring what Stede had just said in favor of finishing his innuendo.
Stede flushed red yet again as he stepped away from the bed.
The last thing Ed thought of before slipping off into nothingness was the beautiful smile of the man who was stuck with him.
~~~~~
Ed woke up just once. In the middle of the night.
He stared at his chest for what seemed to be hours, silent tears of happiness falling down his face as it dawned on him that he had done it. They were gone. He finally had the body he had dreamed of his entire life.
He hugged himself, sniffling as he smiled so hard his face hurt. He giggled until he ran out of breath, stopping when he remembered that he had a guest.
He hoped he hadn’t woken up Stede. Wherever he was.
Ed was too high still to remember that he didn’t own a spare bed or a spare couch.