The Cab (A Brendon Urie FanFiction)

Chapter 2

Chapter 2-

"Does my makeup make me look older than I am?" Mickey asks, pouting her ruby red lips in my direction. Mickey was a full five months older than me, but as she stood in the fluorescent lighting of my bathroom she looked every bit of twenty-five, and her outfit certainly didn't help her case.

"You know it does. And are you really going to wear that top?" I ask her, glancing down at the deep plunge of her neckline. "I fully understand the need to show 'em if you've got 'em, but this particular shirt leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. And to be honest you kind of look like a slut."

"That's twice in 48 hours that you've called me slutty." Mickey pouts, turning to admire her reflection, and fixing her breasts to present themselves furthermore.

"All I'm saying is that you're showing way too much cleavage for a concert."

"Oh hush and go put on what I've laid out for you. Don't worry you'll look cute too." I leave her to her vanity, and anxiously move over to my bed where she's laid out her pick of the contents of my closet. To my great relief she's assembled a very cute and flattering outfit, that's both rock concert appropriate and warm enough for the lingering winter chill.

"If you don't hurry, we'll be late!" Mickey calls from the bathroom.

"There's not enough room for me to get ready in there with both you and your ego hogging my mirror." I call back.

"So when's Lexi getting here?" Mickey asks, blatantly ignoring me. I roll my eyes and begin to get dressed.

"She can't come. Her mom has this charity benefit to prep for and insisted Alexis help her." The poor girl never gets to do anything fun anymore.

"Well then. I guess we can go whenever you're done then." She finally exits my bathroom, and considers me from head to toe. "Damn, I make you look good. Can I do your hair and makeup? I promise I'll go for a more natural look and not 7/11 hooker."

Rather reluctantly I allow her to drag me into the bathroom, wondering to myself what a 7/11 hooker is and what one would look like. A little over half an hour later, and I'm the poster child for Punk Pop. If Mickey wasn't determined to become a doctor, I might encourage her to pursue cosmetology. She's a force to reckon with when she's brandishing a curling wand and makeup brush.

"Are you sure it's cool if I stay the night after?" Mickey asks as we're heading out the door of my townhouse, and step out into the hustle and bustle.

"Yeah, of course. Maybe Alexis can still come over later too. I figure we can binge watch Gossip Girls until we pass out and Serena picked up a bunch of snacks."

"Tonight's gonna rock!" She says with a grin as we hail a taxi.

***

"Who the hell is this cover band? They totally suck!" Mickey often wears a look of disdain, but the one she wears now takes the crown. Currently on the stage performing is the opening act that apparently has no original songs whatsoever. They had just finished butchering Green Day's American Idiot and are now launching into what will be the worst rendition of Sugar We're Going Down.

"They sound better than you do when you sing in the shower." I tease her, but I flinch suddenly at the loud screech of their guitarist's poor attempt at an improvised solo.

Deciding suddenly that I need to put as much space between me and this horrible band I turn to her again, "god I can't listen to another minute of this. I'm going to get something to drink, do you want anything?"

"Agua por favor." She says with a wink, but we both know the only reason she's taking Spanish is so she can cuss people out without them understanding what she said.