if you're doing that soft prompts meme, i ask for some gerrymichael for 4 and 9 ((:
4. neck kisses & 9. shoulder kisses
“Alright Gerry, its time.”
Gerry’s head flew up, startled by Michael’s surprisingly firm tone. “What?” he asked, ready to expect the worst before Michael deposited a plastic bag on the table before him. Inside were refreshingly familiar boxes of his usual brand of hair dye, in his usual black, but also one of a medium brown, a packet of gloves, and a stiff-looking brush. “Wha-”
“We’re coloring your hair today,” Michael announced, planting his hands on his hips. “We’re going to do this properly, and it’ll look great, I promise.”
“My hair is fine,” Gerry protested, grabbing the box of brown and eying it critically. As terrible as he looked as a blonde, brunette was much worse on him.
“My love, you clearly can’t reach the back of your own head,” Michael told him, circling around the table to stand behind him, pulling Gerry’s hair back and fanning it out. “You’ve got banding, and patchiness, and it’s uneven all over.” Despite his criticism, his hands were gentle as they carded through the strands. “Bit like a big cat in the shadows, you know?”
Gerry frowned, feeling the tiniest twinge of shame. “Is it that bad?” he asked uncertainly. It wasn’t like he cared overmuch about his hair, except for when the roots got too blond, but apparently he’d been missing more than he knew.
“Of course not,” Michael said at once. Gerry felt him bunch up his hair in one hand, then felt his lips brushing over his neck, soft and light and sending shivers all over him. “I only notice because I notice every single thing about you.” His lips moved over his skin with his words, ending in a deliberate kiss to his neck. “In fact, I think it’s charming. It’s very…you.” One of his hands dropped to wrap around his middle, giving him a squeeze. “I’m not…demanding you do you hair better, or that it needs to be fixed. I just want to do this for you.”
Gerry relaxed, leaning back to give Michael more access to his neck. “Are you sure you want to get your hands dirty?” he goaded with a laugh that broke into a moan when Michael sunk his teeth in a bit. “Have you ever dyed hair before?”
“I have a good enough idea,” Michael assured him, pushing aside the loose collar of his shirt to kiss the crest of his shoulder. “At least I can help. Four hands are better than two, and I can see the back of your head.”
Gerry laughed. “That’s true,” he agreed. Michael’s kisses continued, from his shoulder and back up his neck, sweet and tender and full of affection. Gerry knew that Michael’s fussy attention was borne of love, wanting only the best for him. And if Michael wanted to try his hand at making his hair look better than he ever could, he was welcome to try. “You can’t do any worse than me, at least.”
“Just you wait.” Michael teasingly tugged on his hair before he released it, coming back for one last kiss on his shoulder. “I might do it wrong and it’ll come out green.”
“You know,” Gerry shrugged as he grabbed the supplies. “That might not be a bad look.” It might also look terrible, but it couldn’t be as bad as what he’d done to himself. No matter what, he’d appreciate anything Michael would do to him.