Requested
Word count: 865
A/N: I forgot who I wanted to write this for, so I'm just randomly going with Mikey since it was his birthday this week. Hope that's alright. Since I don't know what it's like not to see colours, I hope this is written okay. Also for the Anti-Flag heavy conversation, I just love them.
"What about this one?"
You turned back to the bathroom door through which Mikey stepped back into the room. He was trying out outfits for tonight's show, and as his partner it was your 'job', as he liked to call it, to make sure he looked presentable. He always claimed it was because he was terrible in deciding on clothes, but you knew that was not true. In fact you suspected he just wanted you to compliment him. So you did.
"I love it," you exclaimed, "it looks so much better with the jacket. And you can still take it off later on in the show."
Mikey nodded happily, and looked down his body.
"Shoes?"
He stretched out his leg to you, presenting the boots he was wearing.
You nodded in approval.
"Looks great," you agreed. "A little bit reminiscent of Danger Days!"
Gerard sat up from where he had been laying on the bed of the hotel room. Since you were staying with a friend who lived in this city, he and Mikey shared a room. Now that he looked over his brother's outfit he frowned.
"Dude, if you wear the aubergine top with the red boots I'll kill you," he sighed and dropped back into his pillow.
"Aubergine and red," you asked, looking at Mikey's clothing. "Man, I may have an eye for textures and cuts, but you need to do the colour work."
"I like the combi, though," Mikey complained with a pout directed at his brother.
"You can't go on stage like that," Gerard disagreed, "And since (y/n) can't see the colours, you need to be responsible. We did talk about that."
You giggled at Mikey's annoyed face, and reached over to his suitcase that was thrown open on the bed next to you.
"What colour is this," you asked pulling another tank top out of the mess.
"Dark green," Mikey answered.
"Olive," Gerard corrected.
"Green shirt and red boots... not perfect, is it," you shook your head remembering the colour wheel. Even if you could not see the colours, you knew which colours theoretically should match each other.
"Why don't you just wear the black boots, and the black jeans as always, and then you can wear which ever shirt you like and I get to nap before the show," Gerard groaned.
"Because I want to wear the red boots," Mikey argued, shrugging of the leather jacket.
"You sound like an angry toddler," you laughed, and searched for a shirt which you were pretty sure was completely black. "Alternatively you could wear all black and the red boots, a Chris Dos homage so to speak." You held up the black shirt.
"Bassist solidarity," Mikey laughed and took the shirt from your hands, showing it to Gerard.
"But for that you'd need a button up, wouldn't you," Gerard asked, giving the shirt a thumbs up.
Quickly Mikey pulled of the aubergine shirt he was still wearing, and slipped into the black one.
"Nah, he'd definitely need that one for Justin, but Chris sometimes wears t-shirts too, I think," you shrugged, "and I mean... it's not like anyone would notice. None of the fans realised Frank and Chris had the same haircut in 2004 either."
"Oh shit, right," Mikey laughed, "I'm still not over that."
Pulling around on the shirt a little he spread his arms and presented himself.
"Perfect," you grinned and got up to kiss him.
"Wonderful cosplay," Gerard laughed, "wait, is that even considered cosplay?"
"Crappy cosplay at best," you giggled. "Chris wears sneakers, not boots, I think."
"How do you know so much about his outfit," Gerard wondered, draping himself dramatically across the bed.
"Because I happen to be friends with him and I regularly see their shows," you answered, poking your tongue out at him.
"I kinda find it doubtful that you know more about your friend's stage outfit than about mine," Mikey pouted, linking your hands with his.
"That's just because you change it up all the time, darling," you leant up and kissed him on the lips, causing him to drop the pouty façade, and break into a smile instead. "But whenever you feel like it, you really should wear the 'Art is the Weapon' or the 'Mikey Fucking Way' shirt again."
"Cool, cool, now that we managed to dress Mikey into something presentable, would you two love birds minding to go out or something, I still wanna nap," Gerard whined.
"Oh dear, he's just like a toddler too," you whispered to Mikey making him laugh.
"Hey, I heard that," Gerard complained, and wrapped himself in one of the blankets.
"Yeah, let's give this grumpy three years old some space," Mikey agreed, "I saw an ice cream parlour down the street. What do you think?"
"That I really love ice cream," you grinned.
"Perfect. Ice cream it is."
Mikey grabbed his jacket and slipped it on, taking hold of yours with the other. And while Gerard was still mumbling how awfully cute you two were together, and how much he sometimes regretted setting you two up, because you were just disgustingly sweet together, Mikey and you left the room to go for an ice cream.