Joey POV, Joey/Lance, AU

And is it true that devils end up like you
Something safe for the picture frame

Joey adjusts his bra and then slips on the dress Lance had picked out for him. He studies himself in the big mirror in one corner of the room, turning around so he can see himself from all possible angles. The dress is simple, no fancy pattern or extravagant design, just black with a little bit of a shine to it. It falls down just below his knees and it fits his frame perfectly.

He likes what he sees in the mirror. He doesn't think he has the kind of body that makes wearing a dress look attractive or sexy and finding clothes has become a challenge. If it hadn't been for Lance he would have given up hope, but for some reason Lance knows exactly what is perfect for Joey.

He runs his hands over his fake breasts and his belly, down his hips. It's different than touching a woman's body, and not only because it's his own – transformed – body. It's difficult to explain, even to himself. He loves the curves, the way they make him feel softer somehow.

Smoothing out a few wrinkles of the soft fabric, he sits down in front of the desk where his supplies are scattered and smiles at his mirror image.

Joey loves this part of the transformation, where he still looks mostly like the old Joey, but with Josephine already peaking through. It's the slow build up that makes the in-between so exciting, the anticipation clear in his eyes and finally settling in the pit of his stomach, while he leaves Joey behind and welcomes Josephine.

Feeling giddy and light-headed, Joey leans forward and uncaps the moisturizing cream. He squeezes out a generous amount on his fingers and methodically massages it into his skin, long strokes over his nose and cheeks, his chin and forehead. His skin feels smooth beneath his fingertips after carefully shaving his face earlier in the evening.

Joey doesn't shave that often, so he tries to savor the feeling of Josephine's soft skin, the stubble will be back soon enough and he wants to remember as much as he can, even though he knows it will not be the last time he's going to feel it. He still can't help running his fingers over his face.

He takes the little sponge and carefully applies the cream make up to his face. When he's satisfied, he grabs the eye liner and draws a thin line on first his right then left eyelid. His hand is steady and the line is perfectly straight. With horror he remembers his first attempts, though. It took him quite a while to perfect his skills with the liquid eye liner.

The eye shadow is next, nothing too flashy, just a soft color to compliment his dark eyes. Lance picked out the eye shadow as well, he realizes, and isn't really surprised. He decides on black mascara for his eyelashes and a rose colored lip gloss, making his lips shine and sparkle. A little bit of blush, because Lance likes it so much, and he's almost ready.

He takes his favorite wig, the one with the long, dark, and straight hair, and puts it on with sure hands. After combing through it several times, he looks himself over. He looks good, Joey decides finally and straightens a few stray strands of hair.

"You're beautiful."

Lance's voice startles him; he'd been too absorbed to hear anything other than the excitement thrumming through his body. He turns around in his chair and his heart skips a beat when he sees Lance standing in the doorway, looking so fucking gorgeous in his black suit.

Joey doesn't know what to say; he doesn't feel beautiful. He looks nice, yes, and being Josephine makes him more comfortable in a lot of ways. It's freeing and exciting and he feels alive in a whole different way. It's like waking up and seeing the magic of the world around you for the first time.

But sometimes he wonders what Lance sees in him… in her.

"Ready?" Lance asks and Josephine nods, smiling.

She stands up and takes Lance's offered arm.

***

Hours later, after the party and Josephine's successful performance, he's the old Joey again. He sits in his chair, the make up scrubbed off his face, wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt. He has his feet propped up on the desk, very unladylike, and feels hollow and numb.

Without Lance he would have never had the courage to do something about this longing that was consuming him for so long. Lance supported him every step of the way, still supports him. He comes to every single one of Joey's shows and is always the first to clap and cheer. Lance encourages him to be Josephine whenever he needs her; whenever the pressure gets too much.

Sometimes, though, he wonders what would happen should he ever decide to not go back to being Joey. At first glance they seem to be the same person, but they are not. The life of Josephine seems so appealing, beyond the mere excitement of dressing up as a woman. It's more than that.

He tried to explain it to Chris once, but finding the words that could convey the yearning inside him was hard. He just knows. He needs Josephine. But he also needs Joey. Joey's life and his friends.

And Lance.

He looks up and sees Lance standing in the doorway. Their eyes meet and Lance smiles, walking forward until he stands right in front of Joey.

"Beautiful," Lance whispers, running his fingertips over Joey's cheek.

And this time, Joey believes him, because Lance likes Josephine, but he loves Joey.