M'gann was still at cheer practice when Conner crept into her bedroom.

She always shifted her cheer uniform for ease and comfort, so the uniform she'd been given by the coach sat unworn in the mostly-empty closet.

Despite knowing that he was the only one there-- except Tornado, who was unlikely to come down from his own room-- Conner found himself triple-checking for any sound in the echoing chasms of the mountain. He only heard Wolf's breathing in the kitchen, and his own heartbeat, so carefully, Conner took out the cheer uniform.

It was in the Bumblebees' colours, and the skirt was so short it was more decorative; laying in minuscule pleats over the leotard bottom. The material was stretchy and decently forgiving, giving the girls on the team room for growth spurts and weight changes. Though he doubted it was designed for what he had in mind.

On one of their thrift-hunting trips at the charity shops in town, M'gann had found a slightly-cracked floor-length mirror going for only eight dollars. This mirror now lay opposite the bed so she could do at least most of her morning grooming without leaving her room.

He checked again for any noise, and when he didn't hear any, he began unzipping the fly of his trousers, dropping them around his ankles and kicking them off so that he was left in just his shirt and boxers.

The stretchy blended fabric of the leotard legs brushed the inside of his thighs as Conner pulled the dress up. His hips were slim enough to slip the skirt up over them, and if he tightened his stomach then that fit too. His rib cage is where the issues really started, as even though the uniforms had room for breasts, they didn't have enough room for his broad shoulders.

He'd never really worn anything outside his daily outfit and uniform, and the feeling was strange and unfamiliar, his bare legs made him feel exposed and vulnerable, but the drafts, the delicate swish of the skirt, the snug waist and the way the pleats fell over the dimples of his chiselled hips... it felt so freeing, so new and exciting, and he found himself turning around before the mirror, examining the skirt. He was taller and bigger than M'gann, and the skirt looked particularly short on him, but he didn't mind.

Suddenly a jolt of shame shot through him. Superman never wore a dress. He tried to shake it off, reminding himself he was allowed to not be exactly the same, but the weight on his chest stayed the same.

Conner ran his fingers down the side seems. He couldn't get the zipper up, but it wasn't a big deal.

Cautiously Conner slipped out of M'gann's room, holding the top half of the dress up over his tee shirt, and scittered halfway down the hall to the bathroom. He closed the door and latched it. M'gann would be back in fifteen minutes and he wanted to be able to return the uniform before she noticed it missing.

Something shiny caught the corner of his eyes and turning around, he found a little metallic cylinder on the counter.

M'gann didn't need makeup-- honestly she didn't, she could just shape shift-- but she and Robin liked to play around with applying it anyways. Conner didn't understand it, but maybe he could.

Unsurely he unscrewed and uncapped the tube, revealing a sort of thin stick with bristles at the end. He recognized it as something that went on the eyelashes. Trying to control his wide fingers, Conner raised the wand to his eyes and tried hard not to blink.

The product went on messily, and on the second eye he missed the lashes entirely, blinking instinctively.

He put the wand down and grabbed some hand soap, scrubbing around his eyes and then rinsing. It didn't help much, and black smudges stayed in rings around his eyes. He decided to try something easier. There was a tube of lipstick next to the toothbrushes.

He smeared on the pinkish cream stick over his lips, smacking them once or twice like he saw M'gann do when she applied a lip product.

Somewhere he heard a door slam shut, and the computer announce M'gann's arrival.

4:30 already? He reached to check his phone, only to remember it left in his trouser pocket.

"I'M HOME!" He heard his roommate shout. Conner smeared the lipstick off on his hand, grabbing more soap. He scrubbed his face viciously, watching as the water ran clear but the makeup clung to his face. He grabbed one of the towels on the back of the door and began dry-scrubbing the stains. "Hey boy," M'gann's voice came from across the mountain, "where's Conner?"

Finally the product started coming off on the towel. Without bothering to check if it was all off, Conner fumbled with the latch and whipped out of the bathroom, sprinting back to M'gann's room.

He couldn't hear footsteps, but could faintly make out the sound of Wolf's nails on the floor.

He sprinted into M'gann's room, and tried to yank the skirt off.

There was a ripping sound and, to Conner's horror, he saw that he'd completely ripped the skirt up the front.

Conner's stomach dropped. The dress was now so tightly pulled around him that he couldn't get the damn thing off.

He straightened up, compacting his stomach muscles, and desperately, but delicately, tried to extract himself.

Wolf's footsteps were getting closer, but he still couldn't hear M'gann's.

"Come on..." He hissed, eyebrows knitting together desperately as he shimmied the fabric around him.

The light from the hallway blotted out, and whipping around he saw the silhouette of his friend hovering just off the floor in the doorway.

His boxers were bunched up and half exposed by the leotard bottom; the top of the dress that he hadn't been able to fit on was hanging around his hips. His trousers lay in a crumpled heap beside him on the floor and messy stains smeared his pallid face.

M'gann's hand had flown to her mouth.

The two teens stared at each other, punctuated only by the sound of Wolf panting in the hallway.

"Are you trying on my dress?"

Suddenly the blood that had drained from Conner's face flooded back like a tsunami. He broke eye contact, his vision blurring, and hurried towards the corridor, pushing past his friend. His nose and eyes stung, and he felt lightheaded as he swayed down the hallway-- unsure of where he was going, but desperate to escape.

He'd never been so humiliated in his short life. He was supposed to be like Superman...but then, Superman never wore lipstick; Superman never dressed up in girly clothes and twirled in the mirror. Superman never lay up at night wondering if he was more than just Superman.

Why had he let himself be caught?

M'gann would tell everyone.

He slammed his closet door shut behind him, sinking to the floor. He prayed M'gann wouldn't try to mindlink, he just couldn't take it right now.

He couldn't believe he'd willingly made such a fool of himself, still desperately tugging at the skirt in attempts to get it off. He couldn't believe he thought he could look and feel the way he'd naively hoped he could. A hot tear shot down his cheek. He felt so pathetic; hiding, crying in his closet because he got caught trying on his friend's dress.

What if the League heard about this?

Just the thought made his blood run cold.

He could stand when they looked at him like that. The look that says 'we know you're wrong', 'we've all read your life records and we know you're wrong'. He knew his privacy was a myth; everyone told their higher ups almost everything, his medical records were League property, there were even cameras placed throughout the mountain.

He took in a breath so sharp it could've slit his throat.

The cameras.

He'd been so busy worrying about M'gann.

He let out a shaky breath, hiding his face in his hands. He was doomed. They'd all look at him like he was dirty, something to be the punchline of gossip.

Something Superman would want to stay far, far away from.

Why had he let his jealousy of M'gann's androgyny drive him to do something so stupid?

There were a couple gentle knocks at the door, which banged around his eardrums.  Then there was a shuffling sound and Conner felt something hit his hand.

Looking down, he saw a slip of torn-off lined paper had been slipped under the door.

With trembling hands, Conner held the paper up to his face.

'Are you okay?

YES or NO'

Conner, not having anything to write with, carefully ripped the word 'No' from the rest of the message, and slipping the word back under the door.

He heard M'gann's heartbeat again, and scratching of pencil on paper.

Another note slipped under the door:

'I'll take Wolf on his walk. Come out when you're ready.'