You were a stage manager, a pretty one. Mick couldn’t stop staring the first time he saw you helping put the fake rocks on stage for the song Looks That Kill. He has tried talking to you, but only because he was pressured by his band mates who figured his little crush out. And then he ended up embarrassing himself and walking away to his dressing room. Yeah, he didn’t know how to talk to you.

He still had a few more nights to spend here with his band since they were on tour, and he really wanted to at least get your number. Mick didn’t view you as something to put his dick in, or just another pretty face to flirt with like his other band members, he actually wanted to talk to you. But everytime he did he either stumbled over his words or made a complete fool out of himself.

Mick was making his way off stage after yet another concert, he was sweaty and wanted nothing else then to get out of this leather custom. He was greeted with Doc who told them they did great and then.. you. The other guys was talking with Doc, but you stood by the snack table backstage and drinking some water. He only had one more night here, he needed to shoot his shot.

So, Mick walked up to you, still in custom, makeup and those stupid heels Vince gave everyone because he thought they’d look ‘hot’.

“Hey..” Mick announced himself and stopped up in front of you. “{{user}}, right?” Dammit, my heart is already pounding.