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Mar. 30th, 2011 09:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
turpsMy LJ account expired this morning -- something I'm going to change as soon as I post this -- but I had to laugh when I saw the 6 icons I was left with. My heart icon, my default, one of Kobra Kid, Mikey showing off his neck and two waycest'ey ones. What are you trying to tell me LJ!?
Remember![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
piratesunk's Mike Pedicone meme? Yesterday I went there and committed fic. A very short, tame Mike/Mikey cross-dressing ficlet, because apparently that's how I roll. With thanks to greedy_dancer for checking it over ♥
In yet another effort to be organised.
Mike’s standing close to the doors, his bag at his feet and a scarf wrapped loose around his neck. Rolling his shoulders, he listens to the fans that are gathered outside, grinning as they launch into Na Na Na yet again.
Close by, Mikey’s fastening the buttons of his coat and then pulls on his hat. He tugs at the ear flaps, fake fur brushing against the side of his face as he tucks in a lock of blond hair. Then looks over at Mike and says, “I saw what you wrote.”
“Which was?” Mike asks, unsure what Mikey’s actually seen.
“The model thing,” Mikey says, and his hand is against his coat pocket, and Mike assumes, over his phone. “In your tweet.”
“Well you do,” Mike says easily, and he pictures Mikey on stage -- bright hair and long limbs, the way he tilts his head and gets lost in the music, the moments when he turns and plays only to Mike. “I’d go to your show.”
“Yeah?” Mikey looks over his shoulder, where security guards are gathering, taking up their positions. “If I ever model I’ll get you front row.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Mike says, and steps to the side, hanging back with James as the door is opened and the fans sing louder, their words changing to screams as Gerard steps into view, Mikey, Frank and Ray close behind.
Mike follows, noise and cold hitting together as he wanders outside, stands with his hands pushed into his pockets and watches the group of fans crowd close, masks and skeleton gloves, home-made signs against elaborate costumes.
Mike takes it all in and loves every moment, steps forward himself when he’s spotted and the fans start to yell out his name.
~*~*~*~
Truthfully, Mike’s forgotten about the model thing when Gerard sits next to him, shoves a small sketchbook into his hands and says, “Don’t fuck this up.”
“Okay,” Mike says slowly, and he looks from Gerard to the sketchbook, unsure what he’s actually supposed to do, because Gerard’s staring, and it feels like Mike’s been thrust into some test where the rules are unstated. “You want me to look?”
“I don’t know,” Gerard says, and he runs his hand through his hair. “I mean, yeah, I do, you’re fucking awesome and he said you’ll be good with it, and I know you will, but if it goes wrong....”
Mike cuts Gerard off by opening the book. He’s expecting some kind of new concept, space suits maybe, or being shown he’ll have to play dressed as a robot. Which would be fine, Mike fucking loves this band and robots are cool. What he doesn’t expect is seeing a sketch of Mikey.
Which no, that’s not true. Mike’s seen plenty of sketches of Mikey, that’s what Gerard does, except those sketches have been of super heroes or warriors, Mikey as a zombie or just Mikey himself, laughing or frowning or sleeping, curled up on a small couch.
But not this.
This is undoubtedly Mikey, except he’s wearing a dress, the skirt short and bodice scooped, the tops of his stockings exposed as he crosses his legs. He’s also smiling, and obviously at ease as he looks forward, his gaze direct, as if he’s perfectly aware of being sketched.
Mike looks for a long time, torn between taking in every detail and needing to see if there’s more. He turns the page, and in this next sketch Mikey’s looking into a mirror, the zip of his dress unfastened and exposing his back. It makes Mike want to touch, and he moves his thumb against the base of Mikey’s drawn spine, imagining dark lines and shaded shadows swapped for bone and warm skin.
“He looks beautiful,” Mike says, and Gerard lets out an audible breath.
“He looks even better in reality.” Gerard leans in closer, pressed against Mike’s side as they look at the drawing together. “If you laughed, I was going to to tell you I made that shit up.”
Mike looks away from the drawing, says, “Because me thinking you were some kind of creepy incestuous pervert is better than thinking Mikey cross dresses?”
“If you thought that was a bad thing, yeah,” Gerard says simply, and then adds, “Keep going, the next one’s my favourite.”
Mike does, turning the page carefully, and then has to say on an out breath, “Fuck.”
Because this sketch is pure Mikey, his neck exposed and head tilted, his back arched and eyes closed. He’s lost in the music, hands on his bass and mouth slightly open, except this is a Mikey Mike hasn’t seen. This Mikey is wearing a mini skirt that’s frayed at the hem, dark strands against one thigh and the material pulled taut. He’s also wearing a white shirt, damp patches under his arms and the top buttons unfastened, his chest hidden by shadow.
This is Mikey comfortable in his own skin, hot and sweaty, his hair tangled and pushed back, exposing his face. It’s Mikey needing no embellishments and Mike wants to see more. But he doesn’t know if he can. Taking a risk, that there’s a reason Gerard’s showing these now, Mike says, “Does he dress like that often?”
“Depends who’s around,” Gerard says, and he looks at Mike with a smile. “Probably more often now.”
Mike hopes that it’s true.
~*~*~*~
Mike’s been left alone when it happens.
Sprawled on the bed, he’s watching the end of a movie, some gore fest which has blood splattering the screen when Mikey steps out of the bathroom and says, “Can you fasten this?”
Mike looks from the TV, and it feels like his heart stutters when he sees that Mikey’s changed out of his usual clothes and into a dress, one that’s still open, exposing the line of his back. Chip packets crumpling under his body, Mike sits, his legs off the side of the bed as he says, “That explains it.”
“Explains what?” Mikey asks, and he’s remained close to the door, tension apparent in the way that he’s standing, shoulders pushed back and gripping his arm, his fingers wrapped tight.
“Why Ray needed three other people to get a bucket of ice, and why Frank threatened to kill me before he left,” Mike says, and he wants to laugh as he remembers how they left as a mass group. “They’re kind of obvious.”
“Frank threatened to kill you?” Mikey says, sounding confused.
“Not verbally,” Mike says, but even if the words weren’t there the message was all too apparent. Not that it’s needed, because yeah, seeing Mikey like this is different, but it’s not wrong, and Mike’s standing, needing to get close. “You wanted help?”
Mikey nods, and turns, says, “I can never fasten this fucking thing.”
“I can do that,” Mike says, and he swallows as he moves close, his heart racing as he reaches out, fumbling the tiny zipper.
Mikey stands frozen, looking toward the main door. When Mike misses the zipper again, he says blankly, “It’s okay, one of the others will do it.”
“No,” Mike says, because Mikey doesn’t understand. “I’ll get it. Just. Fuck, Mikey. You look....”
“Like me?” Mikey suggests.
“Exactly like you,” Mike says. Giving up on the zipper, he rests his hand against Mikey’s lower back, running his thumb over the bumps of his spine. “You look fucking hot.”
And Mikey does, his shoulders exposed where the straps of his dress have slipped down, his feet bare and turned in, an orange band-aid stuck to his right knee. He’s the man Mike knows and yet not, confidence returning as Mikey’s mouth curls into a smile.
“Still think I’d make a good model?”
“Yeah,” Mike says, and he’s taking a chance as he slides his hand to Mikey’s side, the zip of the dress dragging over Mike’s arm as he pulls Mikey close. “The best.”
“Good,” Mikey says, and he finishes the move, their bodies pressed together, offering this first kiss.
Now go read other fantastic Pedicone fic over at the meme
ETA: Now with added Mike/Mikey/Gerard comment fic over in LJ comments if you're into such a thing.
Remember
piratesunk's Mike Pedicone meme? Yesterday I went there and committed fic. A very short, tame Mike/Mikey cross-dressing ficlet, because apparently that's how I roll. With thanks to greedy_dancer for checking it over ♥In yet another effort to be organised.
Mike’s standing close to the doors, his bag at his feet and a scarf wrapped loose around his neck. Rolling his shoulders, he listens to the fans that are gathered outside, grinning as they launch into Na Na Na yet again.
Close by, Mikey’s fastening the buttons of his coat and then pulls on his hat. He tugs at the ear flaps, fake fur brushing against the side of his face as he tucks in a lock of blond hair. Then looks over at Mike and says, “I saw what you wrote.”
“Which was?” Mike asks, unsure what Mikey’s actually seen.
“The model thing,” Mikey says, and his hand is against his coat pocket, and Mike assumes, over his phone. “In your tweet.”
“Well you do,” Mike says easily, and he pictures Mikey on stage -- bright hair and long limbs, the way he tilts his head and gets lost in the music, the moments when he turns and plays only to Mike. “I’d go to your show.”
“Yeah?” Mikey looks over his shoulder, where security guards are gathering, taking up their positions. “If I ever model I’ll get you front row.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Mike says, and steps to the side, hanging back with James as the door is opened and the fans sing louder, their words changing to screams as Gerard steps into view, Mikey, Frank and Ray close behind.
Mike follows, noise and cold hitting together as he wanders outside, stands with his hands pushed into his pockets and watches the group of fans crowd close, masks and skeleton gloves, home-made signs against elaborate costumes.
Mike takes it all in and loves every moment, steps forward himself when he’s spotted and the fans start to yell out his name.
~*~*~*~
Truthfully, Mike’s forgotten about the model thing when Gerard sits next to him, shoves a small sketchbook into his hands and says, “Don’t fuck this up.”
“Okay,” Mike says slowly, and he looks from Gerard to the sketchbook, unsure what he’s actually supposed to do, because Gerard’s staring, and it feels like Mike’s been thrust into some test where the rules are unstated. “You want me to look?”
“I don’t know,” Gerard says, and he runs his hand through his hair. “I mean, yeah, I do, you’re fucking awesome and he said you’ll be good with it, and I know you will, but if it goes wrong....”
Mike cuts Gerard off by opening the book. He’s expecting some kind of new concept, space suits maybe, or being shown he’ll have to play dressed as a robot. Which would be fine, Mike fucking loves this band and robots are cool. What he doesn’t expect is seeing a sketch of Mikey.
Which no, that’s not true. Mike’s seen plenty of sketches of Mikey, that’s what Gerard does, except those sketches have been of super heroes or warriors, Mikey as a zombie or just Mikey himself, laughing or frowning or sleeping, curled up on a small couch.
But not this.
This is undoubtedly Mikey, except he’s wearing a dress, the skirt short and bodice scooped, the tops of his stockings exposed as he crosses his legs. He’s also smiling, and obviously at ease as he looks forward, his gaze direct, as if he’s perfectly aware of being sketched.
Mike looks for a long time, torn between taking in every detail and needing to see if there’s more. He turns the page, and in this next sketch Mikey’s looking into a mirror, the zip of his dress unfastened and exposing his back. It makes Mike want to touch, and he moves his thumb against the base of Mikey’s drawn spine, imagining dark lines and shaded shadows swapped for bone and warm skin.
“He looks beautiful,” Mike says, and Gerard lets out an audible breath.
“He looks even better in reality.” Gerard leans in closer, pressed against Mike’s side as they look at the drawing together. “If you laughed, I was going to to tell you I made that shit up.”
Mike looks away from the drawing, says, “Because me thinking you were some kind of creepy incestuous pervert is better than thinking Mikey cross dresses?”
“If you thought that was a bad thing, yeah,” Gerard says simply, and then adds, “Keep going, the next one’s my favourite.”
Mike does, turning the page carefully, and then has to say on an out breath, “Fuck.”
Because this sketch is pure Mikey, his neck exposed and head tilted, his back arched and eyes closed. He’s lost in the music, hands on his bass and mouth slightly open, except this is a Mikey Mike hasn’t seen. This Mikey is wearing a mini skirt that’s frayed at the hem, dark strands against one thigh and the material pulled taut. He’s also wearing a white shirt, damp patches under his arms and the top buttons unfastened, his chest hidden by shadow.
This is Mikey comfortable in his own skin, hot and sweaty, his hair tangled and pushed back, exposing his face. It’s Mikey needing no embellishments and Mike wants to see more. But he doesn’t know if he can. Taking a risk, that there’s a reason Gerard’s showing these now, Mike says, “Does he dress like that often?”
“Depends who’s around,” Gerard says, and he looks at Mike with a smile. “Probably more often now.”
Mike hopes that it’s true.
~*~*~*~
Mike’s been left alone when it happens.
Sprawled on the bed, he’s watching the end of a movie, some gore fest which has blood splattering the screen when Mikey steps out of the bathroom and says, “Can you fasten this?”
Mike looks from the TV, and it feels like his heart stutters when he sees that Mikey’s changed out of his usual clothes and into a dress, one that’s still open, exposing the line of his back. Chip packets crumpling under his body, Mike sits, his legs off the side of the bed as he says, “That explains it.”
“Explains what?” Mikey asks, and he’s remained close to the door, tension apparent in the way that he’s standing, shoulders pushed back and gripping his arm, his fingers wrapped tight.
“Why Ray needed three other people to get a bucket of ice, and why Frank threatened to kill me before he left,” Mike says, and he wants to laugh as he remembers how they left as a mass group. “They’re kind of obvious.”
“Frank threatened to kill you?” Mikey says, sounding confused.
“Not verbally,” Mike says, but even if the words weren’t there the message was all too apparent. Not that it’s needed, because yeah, seeing Mikey like this is different, but it’s not wrong, and Mike’s standing, needing to get close. “You wanted help?”
Mikey nods, and turns, says, “I can never fasten this fucking thing.”
“I can do that,” Mike says, and he swallows as he moves close, his heart racing as he reaches out, fumbling the tiny zipper.
Mikey stands frozen, looking toward the main door. When Mike misses the zipper again, he says blankly, “It’s okay, one of the others will do it.”
“No,” Mike says, because Mikey doesn’t understand. “I’ll get it. Just. Fuck, Mikey. You look....”
“Like me?” Mikey suggests.
“Exactly like you,” Mike says. Giving up on the zipper, he rests his hand against Mikey’s lower back, running his thumb over the bumps of his spine. “You look fucking hot.”
And Mikey does, his shoulders exposed where the straps of his dress have slipped down, his feet bare and turned in, an orange band-aid stuck to his right knee. He’s the man Mike knows and yet not, confidence returning as Mikey’s mouth curls into a smile.
“Still think I’d make a good model?”
“Yeah,” Mike says, and he’s taking a chance as he slides his hand to Mikey’s side, the zip of the dress dragging over Mike’s arm as he pulls Mikey close. “The best.”
“Good,” Mikey says, and he finishes the move, their bodies pressed together, offering this first kiss.
Now go read other fantastic Pedicone fic over at the meme
ETA: Now with added Mike/Mikey/Gerard comment fic over in LJ comments if you're into such a thing.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-03-30 09:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-31 02:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-31 09:46 am (UTC)Thank you ♥
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Date: 2011-03-31 09:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-02 08:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-02 08:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-30 08:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-30 09:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-30 09:09 am (UTC)In other news, Pippin woke me up again. Silly cat. She's now off to bed and I know I will be struggling to make it through the day.
no subject
Date: 2011-03-30 09:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-30 09:13 am (UTC)Go and wake her up! Be stern!
I'll entertain you during the day. Maybe I'll give you a blow by blow account of my BBB writing process. You'll be the first to know when something tragic happens *g*
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Date: 2011-03-30 09:18 am (UTC)Ahahaha! But then she'll bug *me* some more and make me even more cranky.
Heh. I'd get to hear about Mikey's first time hooking and Ryan getting beat up. It would be an odd contrast to work, that's for sure. *g*
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Date: 2011-03-30 10:19 am (UTC)...next you need to write me Mike/Mikey/Gerard. (Because really.) /bossy
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Date: 2011-03-30 10:29 am (UTC)it's awesome and hmmmmmm *.*
also i love how
<33333333
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Date: 2011-03-30 10:48 am (UTC)Cats. They're evil sometimes.
Basically like every email I send you really *g*
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Date: 2011-03-30 11:17 am (UTC)My personal canon for Gerard is he likes to watch, and that includes watching Mikey with other people. Not so much in this one, but I can easily see him getting off on details. Skin against skin, how someone looks and the way they move. And he knows Mikey so well that seeing him with someone new would open a world of new things to see. Mike's hand against Mikey's hip, Mikey so confident as he shows Mike what he likes.
Basically, Gerard is a big old voyeur.
Thank you ♥
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Date: 2011-03-30 01:03 pm (UTC)Also, I think LJ is only telling you what your most frequently used icons are ;) That's how it determines what five beyond your default to keep. So what does THAT tell you, that those are your most frequently used icons?? ...perv ;)
Ugh, why is LJ lagging so badly today!?
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Date: 2011-03-30 01:07 pm (UTC)Sometimes, Mike wonders how this is his life.
Paper bag held in his arms, he shuts the door with his hip, turns to announce that he's back -- and the words dry in his throat.
"Hey," Gerard says, and his hand is against Mikey's stomach, pushing up his white shirt and exposing pale skin. "Did you get the sodas?"
Mike nods. He can feel the cans, cold against his chest, but he makes no attempt to move them away. All he can do is stare at Mikey and Gerard, taking in how Mikey's sitting on Gerard's lap, is wearing a short skirt that's hitched up high on his thighs.
"Did they have Zero?" Mikey asks, and he's got his head back, resting against Gerard's, blond and red hair mixed together.
Again Mike nods, and he swallows as both Gerard and Mikey stare back, expressions identical as, one-handed, Gerard starts to unbutton Mikey's shirt.
Mike can't help but watch, seeing how Gerard's fingers are stained with crimson blotches, the colour standing out bright against white. The shirt opens, and Gerard runs his thumb over the curve of Mikey's ribs and then lowers his hand, pushing his fingers under the waistband of Mikey's skirt.
It's the smallest of movements, but the intimacy is striking, enough that Mike's debating slipping away, unsure what he's walked into, when Mikey says, "Come here."
Mike drops the bag and is there within seconds.
Kneeling, he's desperate to touch, but this isn't his show. Instead Mike rubs his hands over his thighs and takes in the details from up close. How Mikey's wearing stockings, the tops dark lace and a mended run at one ankle. The flash of dark underwear as Mikey lifts his leg and rests his foot on Mike's lap, the heel of his shoe digging in as Mikey says, "Unfasten these and you can fuck up my stockings."
Mike looks down, at the straps wrapped tight around Mikey's ankle, the buckles that gleam in the low light. They're shoes that scream Mikey, and Mike decides to add his request to this show, says, "Or you could leave them on."
"I could," Mikey says, and he pulls back his foot, arranging himself so he's sitting sprawled out, his knees spread and skirt pushed up high, his feet angled and high heels placed either side of Gerard's ugly green sneakers.
"Yeah. That's. Fuck." Mike looks up, past the arch of Mikey's foot, the curve of his calf, his thigh circled by the dark lace. Keeps going, his heart racing as he sees he's still being watched, assessed by them both.
Which is almost too much, and Mike can barely breathe, can do nothing but stare as Mikey turns his head, his fingers tangled in Gerard's hair, holding on as they kiss.
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Date: 2011-03-30 01:41 pm (UTC)Loved the original ficlet and this bonus ficlet was just like icing on the cake. Cake... *shakes head* ADD much :P Ah the randomness of cross-dressing and cake thoughts XD
But yeah gorgeous! And loved the scene with Gee's drawings of Mikey and how Mike was introduced to idea. And of course the whole Mikey&Mike-bit :)
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Date: 2011-03-30 04:02 pm (UTC)yes! oh god now that makes me want to write another waycest ficlet about how all of this started....
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Date: 2011-03-30 05:28 pm (UTC)And now for the comment!fic Outi mentioned on Twitter... :D
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Date: 2011-03-30 07:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-31 11:36 am (UTC)Thank you ♥
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Date: 2011-03-31 06:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-31 10:09 pm (UTC)It has such a lovely atmosphere to it, and I adore protective!Gerard and his sketches.
♥
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Date: 2011-03-31 10:12 pm (UTC)(btw, you know you're going to have to stop with this saying you can't write porn thing soon, yeah? Because the evidence suggests you CAN)
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Date: 2011-04-01 08:53 am (UTC)Thank you!
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Date: 2011-04-01 09:35 am (UTC)They're two different things! At least to me *g*
Thank you ♥
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Date: 2011-04-05 03:23 am (UTC)Mikey inna dress, man. Does it every time.
(No, seriously, this was really good ♥ And the bonus ficlet! Mmm.)
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Date: 2011-06-02 04:23 pm (UTC)I'm glad you liked, and Mikey in a dress, hell yeah!
Thank you!
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Date: 2011-06-03 05:03 pm (UTC)I don't know where this love of crossdressing suddenly came from, but it seems it's going nowhere.
I'm glad you enjoyed ♥
no subject
Date: 2011-06-03 05:04 pm (UTC)Thank you so much!
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Date: 2011-06-03 05:06 pm (UTC)I really do love crossdressing fic. Though I'm sure everyone knows that by now *g*
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Date: 2011-06-03 05:26 pm (UTC)I've found that I like it when the dressing up is just part of the person, and not used because they want to be seen as female. Like in this, Mikey wears a skirt because he likes to, that's all.
And yeah, Gerard will do anything for Mikey. Anything! And yeah, that makes my mind scurry again.
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Date: 2011-07-31 12:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-07-31 03:47 pm (UTC)