turps

Mikey stared at Gerard when Gerard came in to record vocals for Untitled Track (12) which Gerard insisted on calling the lawnmower song even though it didn't have a single thing in it about lawnmowers and might have actually been about politics. Or zombies. "Is that. You're wearing my jacket."

Gerard looked down at the jacket and blinked like he'd forgotten he was wearing one. Maybe he had. "It fits," he said mildly. "It looks good with the hair."

"Nothing looks good with the hair," Frank put in helpfully from behind his own microphone, and Gerard flipped him off without even looking.

Mikey rolled his eyes. "You broke into the house. Alicia's going to kill you."

Gerard looked smug. "*I* didn't sleep with Pete Wentz and then steal his jacket and keep it hidden in my closet for five years," he pointed out logically.

"I didn't steal it!" Frank was laughing now. "He gave it to me!"

Gerard snickered. "I don't think that helps your argument, Mikes."

"Guys, come on," Ray said patiently, checking levels on the mixing board next to his own microphone. "If we don't get this album done sometime this year, I think our fans might actually set the studio on fire."

Mikey glared, and glared, and Gerard grinned at him, and Mikey stomped off to get coffee.

Gerard stole my jacket, he texted Alicia. He must have taken it out of the Goodwill bag. He didn't say, "before I could."

Who do you think let him into the house? Alicia texted back.