The shirt, at least, is familiar, and he makes short work of it. He slides it off Neil's shoulders just like always, down his arms so it pools on his knees behind Neil's butt. His eyes trail down Neil's face, familiar but so different, then to his collarbones, to his breasts.

"Dude," he says softly. "My tits were so much smaller than this when I was a girl."

He slides his hands back up, fingers grazing over the cups. Having been a girl for a whole week, he totally gets the concept of comfort over appearance. He lets his thumbs brush over the seam where skin meets cotton, then leans forward to press a kiss to his sternum.