swagger down pat

my grayson skirt issue has gotten out of hand lolllllll

“Why can’t I be the badass motorcycler? You always get to be the cool characters.”

“Jesus, Gray, stop whining like a little bitch. I’m always the cool characters because I’m cooler. Obviously.” Ethan gestured towards the door. “Now let’s go film.”

Grayson knew that, in theory, this bit was supposed to make their fans’ collective panties drop. Ethan looked like a true James Dean-esque bad boy with his slicked back hair, Ray-Bans, and worn leather jacket. He had the swagger and smirk down pat. Even without an actual motorcycle, he still managed to achieve an impressive level of sexiness.

Grayson, however, only found him extremely annoying, and he filmed Ethan’s ridiculously macho performance with a healthy amount of eye-rolling. They spent at least fifteen minutes filming Ethan walking around like a douche bag in his heavy boots, posing and generally making an ass out of himself. Then he sped around around on his stupid little bike, and while that part wasn’t exactly supposed to be sexy, Ethan thought he had made it so.

“And that’s how you do it,” Ethan said, hopping off the mini-bike. He winked at Grayson in such a smarmy way that Gray wanted to slap the shit out of him. Ethan cupped his cheek in his hand and brushed his thumb over his lip. “But don’t worry baby, you can ride in my bitch seat anytime.”

Grayson smacked his hand away and Ethan laughed heartily. Gray watched him strut back inside the house with narrowed eyes.

The thing was, Ethan had been convinced- probably since conception- that he was cooler than Grayson, and probably nothing Grayson could ever do in his entire life would change his mind. 

And it had gotten worse since they’d started fucking. Now Ethan thought he was some sort of sex god on top of everything else, and frankly, it had just gotten insufferable. If Gray didn’t knock him down a few notches- and soon- Ethan’s ego would get so big he’d float off forever into fuckboy purgatory.

The seed for the plan was planted a few days later. He’d left Ethan in the warehouse to edit and jerk off over himself in his stupid Ray-Bans, and escaped to a part of the city he hadn’t visited before. It was one of those neighborhoods with a tattoo shop on every corner and gangs of pierced, smoking teenagers loitering on the sidewalk. It wasn’t exactly Grayson’s scene, but he wasn’t opposed to it. On the contrary, he was kind of digging it.

He walked past a storefront and did a double-take. On a headless- but obviously male- mannequin was a pair of black leather boots. They were shined to perfection, but had no zippers, buckles, or any sort of metal to give any visual interest except a small clasp at the top, on the sides. What had caught Grayson’s eye was that they went all the way to mid-thigh- higher than he’d ever seen a pair of men’s boots go in his life.

Before he knew it he was in the shop, and a woman with purple hair and very large gauges in her ears- “Aurora”- had disappeared into the back to find his size in the boots.

While he was unarguably the more fashionable of the two of them, this was outside of his comfort zone. Aurora helped him slide into them when she came back, and he stood in front of the mirror, totally amazed. There was no high heel, but he felt taller, for some reason. His legs looked amazing. His ass looked amazing.

“I was skeptical when you came in, but they look fucking dope on you,” Aurora said, nodding her head. “But not with those jeans.”

Gray shook his head. “No.” He hadn’t really thought that until she’d said it, but he knew for sure she was right. 

She started to speak, but then stopped. She looked at him in the mirror thoughtfully. Her own boots were studded from toe to knee and about six inches high, and he stared at them until she cleared her throat.

“Look, you seem like one of those J Crew, all-American types, and that’s fine. But if you really want to pull off those boots, you’ll need a whole outfit. One that doesn’t consist of a v-neck and a sweatshirt.”

He was 100% committed to the boots- he’d known that as soon as he had slid his foot in. He was a bit wary, though, of anything else- the clothes on the racks around him were pretty…edgy.

“Don’t be scared, college boy. They’re just clothes.” She winked and pushed him towards a dressing room. “Just leave it to me.”


When Gray had seen himself in the outfit, Aurora smirking behind him, he knew that knocking Ethan down a few inches involved him wearing it.

Ethan’s biggest weakness was his love for Grayson- and more recently, his lust for Grayson. No matter how cool Ethan thought he was, it still only took Grayson throwing one smoldering glance over his shoulder for Ethan to be panting like a dog. Gray didn’t use his powers that often, but when Ethan got like this, he had no choice.

The hardest part was finding an excuse to wear the outfit and work his magic. It was so outside his usual wardrobe that it was almost laughable- although the clothes themselves weren’t. He couldn’t just throw it on one day and waltz into the living room.

Fortunately, opportunity struck- literally. They were walking down Hollywood Boulevard when someone smashed a flyer into Grayson’s stomach and breezed past into the crowd.

“What the fuck was that?” Ethan turned behind him and gave a dirty look to humanity in general. “I don’t know why we still come to this fuckin’ place.”

Grayson looked at the flyer. PUNK NITE AT THE VIPER ROOM! 18+. BANDS TIL 3AM. 

Gray didn’t recognize any of the bands listed or the screaming guys in the photo below them, but that wasn’t the point. He had his excuse.

“We should go to this,” Grayson suggested casually. Ethan took the flyer from him and snorted.

“We don’t listen to this shit.”

“Well, we don’t now. Maybe we should expand our horizons. Do something more interesting with our Saturday night than Netflix and chill.” Grayson attempted an air of disinterest, hoping that Ethan wouldn’t call his bluff. 

“You weren’t complaining about Netflix and chill last Saturday,” Ethan said, crossing his arms. “In fact, I distinctly recall the words ‘oh God,’ ‘yes,’ and ‘more,’ being repeated frequently and loudly.”

“Well, Ethan, sex is like pizza- even when it’s bad, it’s good. And in any case, we can always do that after we check this out.” Grayson took the flyer and folded it before putting it in his back pocket and strolling down the street ahead of Ethan.

“Wait! What did you say about sex and pizza?” Ethan called, chasing behind him. Grayson grinned. In. the. bag.


It was 11pm on Saturday and Gray was standing in front of his mirror. He looked just as good as he did in the store, but now it was show time and he was nervous.

He had fought with Ethan for an hour over his outfit, before they finally reached a compromise. Black pants, black shirt. Boots. No Vans.

“It’s not like it even matters. You’re gonna want to leave after five minutes anyway,” Ethan huffed, running a hand through his hair. 

Honestly, Gray hoped they wouldn’t even make it out of the apartment complex, but he kept that to himself and only glared.

Ethan had gone off to the convenience store down the street and was going to call them an Uber. Gray was supposed to meet him outside, and he was wavering when his phone buzzed in the pocket of his jacket. 


Grayson fixed his hair one more time and took one final look. The boots were still incredible, and paired with one of his favorite leather jackets, a blank tank Aurora had chosen, and a new plaid shirt wrapped around his waist that Aurora had insisted on, he looked alternative, but not like he was trying too hard. He’d avoided Aurora’s hair and make up suggestions, at least.

He looked good. Damn good.

But the biggest risk was the skirt.

It was not unheard of for punk guys to wear skirts, but it wasn’t common, and they weren’t usually this short.

“This is a joke, right?” Gray had asked Aurora incredulously. She was holding up a black leather skirt that looked like it would barely fit her, and she was about a third of his size. 

“Trust me. Try it on. And yes, it is a men’s item. So don’t bitch about it.”

Well, he guessed he didn’t have to come out if he looked like a total moron. And she hadn’t led him astray so far. He reluctantly stepped into it and pulled it over the boots, buttoning it at the waist.


“What were you saying about a joke?” Aurora had asked innocently.

Ethan was going to die.

It didn’t look ridiculous at all. It was definitely made for a man’s body- there was no curve to it. And it clung to his thighs and ass in a strangely masculine way- like he was a gladiator or something. The expanse of skin showing between the top of the boots and the bottom of the skirt was a bit too large for his comfort, but he could take a risk. He had a score to settle, after all.

Aurora had bagged up his purchases and handed it over the counter with a smile- a naughty one. “He’ll love it. Thank me later.”

Grayson’s eyes had widened comically, but she only winked again and disappeared into the back of the store.

He took a deep breath and turned off the lights, locking the apartment door behind him.

He didn’t pass many people on his way out of the complex to the sidewalk in front, but the people he did pass barely glanced at him. He guessed they were used to weird kids walking around in God knows what.

Ethan was engrossed in his phone by their usual Uber pick up spot, and Gray stopped five feet behind him before calling his name.


Ethan pivoted towards him without looking up from his phone. “Hey, if we get bored at this thing we can head over to West Hollywood for…”

Ethan’s words died on his lips when he finally tore his eyes away from his phone and looked at Grayson.

The poor kid was such a visual person that his synapses were probably shorting out. He stared at the boots and slowly worked his way up, lingering on the bare skin beneath the skirt, before sliding up Grayson’s torso and making eye contact.

He was shook.

Grayson could tell that the shock- and any lingering old-fashioned views about men in skirts- had totally ceded control to his caveman brain. 

Now, to seal the deal. Gray fixed Ethan with that look- the kill shot. 

He glanced down at the ground briefly, and then looked up at Ethan through his lashes. It was Grayson’s patented mixture of submission and desire, conveyed through the heavy-lidded expression known as “bedroom eyes.”

“We can head to West Hollywood for what?” Grayson asked softly.

Before Ethan could remember how to speak, the Uber pulled up to the curb and honked the horn. Ethan was momentarily startled out of his daze, and he looked from Grayson to the car, and then back to Grayson.

“You Ethan Dolan?” a gruff voice called from the window.

Ethan finally tore his eyes away from Grayson and strode to the car with purpose. He pulled out his wallet and took a $50 from the pocket. “Hey, it turns out we aren’t going to need you after all. Here’s something for the inconvenience. Sorry, have a good night!”

Ethan tossed the bill through the window and walked back to Grayson, grabbing his hand before breaking into a run.

When the apartment door was locked behind them, Ethan pushed Grayson against it, crowding into his space.

“Bedroom, now,” he ordered in a growl. “Everything off except the skirt and the boots. You understand?”

Grayson nodded, and Ethan kissed him hard before pushing him towards the bedroom.

Grayson made his way down the hallway, internally pumping his fist. Ethan may be cooler, but he had the power. All of it.