Cinderella, she seems so easy ~waycest~

I don't know what to call this :>>

The first time is a complete accident. Then again, a lot of good things in Mikey's life have begun that way – accidentally – so who's he to knock it?

Mikey is shopping in a hurry, which he doesn't like. Oh, he likes shopping and doesn't have any particular hatred toward being in a hurry (because sometimes you just need to get to places quickly and it's a fact of life), but the two together are not a good combination.

Well, not usually.

The thing is, Mikey is late for a date (not a serious one, but you know, he doesn't like being late) and then he spills coffee all over his shirt exactly half-way between their house and the bar where he's supposed to meet the girl and it's just easier to swing by the mall and buy a new shirt than it is to turn the car around and go back home.

So he walks into the first likely looking store, grabs a short-sleeved button down with funky stripes and throws money at the cashier.

It's not until he goes to the men's room to change that he realises that despite being his size (he checked the label) the shirt is unaccountably tight. And a little on the short side. And there appear to be tiny rainbow coloured love hearts scattered around the black and grey stripes (although, okay, the hearts are sort of awesome) and the sleeves are turned up with neat button flaps, leaving a lot more arm exposed than he's used to showing.

Mikey regards himself in the mirror, ineffectually trying to tug the hem down to cover his hipbones. There's about an inch of bare flesh between the shirt and low-riding waist of his jeans.

It's pretty obvious that he's wearing a girl's shirt.

Mikey blinks a couple of times before shrugging and walking out of the restroom. He's never been particularly concerned about the traditional gender roles (though he's never felt the urge to deliberately defy them either, unlike some other people he could name) and doesn't see the need to start now.

His date likes the shirt. She likes it even better when they get maybe a little tipsy and she pushes him down on to the chair and straddles him, painting his mouth a delicate candy pink with her lipstick.

Hours later, when Mikey gets home, it's still there, smeared and tasting faintly of spun sugar.

He unlocks the door carefully in case Gerard is asleep (unlikely but Mikey lives in hope that one of these days his brother manages to get a full night's sleep) and drops his keys onto the small table.

There's a flicker of TV coming from the living room. Mikey sighs, heading over to say hello and good night and you should go to bed and have you eaten?

Gerard is stretched on the sofa, hair falling over his face in messy clumps. The fairy lights draped over the bookcase make everything glow faintly, Gerard's eyelashes casting long shadows across his cheekbones. He looks tired. Mikey stands in the doorway for a long time, cataloguing the slope of shoulders, the careless abandon of limbs at rest, the familiar shape of Gerard's mouth and the soft curve of jawline, and god god, he wants.

There and gone. The feeling is an old enemy that Mikey suppresses with practiced ease, shoving its raw sharp edges to the back of his mind where all of his what-ifs live like bats in a cave.

He raps his knuckles against the wall, stepping into the room. Gerard will see the smile Mikey is thinking about even if it never reaches his face.

"Hey," he says. "You're up late. Again."

Gerard tips his head back over the armrest, regarding Mikey upside down. "Yeah well. I could say the same about—" His eyes widen comically, lips moving around words that don't quite make it out. "Uh."

Mikey watches with alarm as Gerard tries to roll off and sit up at the same time, flailing impressively until he manages to stand up.

"Is that?" Gerard asks. "Are you?" His eyes are travelling up and down Mikey's torso, coming to rest somewhere between the hollow of his throat and the sticky pink of his lips.

"Oh," Mikey rubs at his mouth a little self-consciously, but doesn't really see what the big deal is. Gerard thinks gender dichotomy is a dirty word and wears a red feather boa to the corner shop when he feels like it. "Needed a new shirt," he shrugs. "Guess I picked the wrong pile."

Gerard takes a step closer, though he doesn't seem aware of doing so. His gaze is now burning a hole into the line of exposed skin under Mikey's belly button. Mikey has a strange urge to cover himself up, the peaks of hipbone visible above his belt suddenly feeling naked and fragile. His hands travel downwards without his permission, hovering around his middle, nervously playing with the buttons of his shirt. "Gee?" he asks. "What's—?"

"Fuck," Gerard breathes, and stalks out without another word.

"—the matter?" Mikey finishes, staring after his brother. There's no answer and he's left alone, standing in the middle of an empty room, wearing a girl's shirt and too much lipstick.

A/N

~864 words

~I'm lazy

~I'm going to upload the next chapter tomorrow

XOXO