the hair dye diaries (part 1)
Winger (Crackfic) Fanfic
a/n: image for this fic is curtsey of Lynne (@electric--love) I combined two ideas onto this crackfic, the hair dye & the weed and hot lasagna part.... Enjoy the chaos 💖
tags: @electric--love @slavet0thegrind @slashscowboyboots @lost-in-the-80s @shelickedthebeater
warnings: teeniest bit of profanity, Kip says hell, Reb being a prankster (?), Use of the ol wacky tobaccy, Hot Lasagna & The Meatballs
In his right and sober mind Kip would’ve never thought about dying his hair. His hair was as gorgeous as a lion’s mane (at least, looking in the mirror, he thought so). His hair was the money maker (again, he thought so), and why would he try to fix what ain’t broken? Alter the color to his hair? Then who would come to Winger’s concerts? Besides, if any other bands found out he had dyed his hair they would’ve had a field day with him. Hell, he could name several bands right now that would try to mop the floor with him.
He’s no Vince Neil, bleach wasn’t getting anywhere near his hair. He couldn’t pull off blond.
You’ve heard the term, “Don’t knock it till you try it” well…. Kip’s definitely knocking it without trying it.
“C’mon, Kip, it wouldn’t look that bad.” Reb insisted.
“No, I’m not dying my hair,” The singer refused, “Why are you so insistent that I dye my hair anyway?”
“No reason…” Reb shrugged. He actually had many reasons, the current one was seeing what his friend would look like with neon orange hair. Sounds ridiculous, but Reb thought it’d be funny.
He knew there was no way he’d be able to talk Kip into experimenting with dyeing his hair. Kip was too stubborn to budge. Well, sober anyway. And that’s when Reb began to plan how to make his dream come to life.
Lighting the blunt Reb had saved, he took a puff before passing it to the singer, “C’mon, touring’s been stressful on all of us. Let’s de-stress.”
They had a small venue show in half an hour, but might as well, right? What’s the worst that could happen? Kip figured not much. And so he took the blunt from Reb.
Yeah, get Kip baked out of his gourd then dye his hair, a perfect plan, but they had to attend the show first.
“Are you sure Kip is cool to sing?” Paul looked over his shoulder at the singer who had two different colored shoes on and was wearing his shirt inside out.
“Of course, he is,” Reb nodded his head, “He’s fine.”
If only that were true, but ‘Kip I-will-not-dye-my-hair Winger’ was FRIED. Annnddddd he wasn’t handling the weed as well as Reb was.
The crowd cheered as the boys took the stage & Kip staggered up to the front as if he wasn’t fighting off his assistant who tried to help him put his mic on. “Hi, uh, I’m Hot Lasagna Winger.”
Paul looked over at Reb with wide eyes, Reb shrugged. Kip could’ve been joking… right?
“And this is my band…”
Winger
Winger
C’mon, Kip, you know this. It’s Winger. Rod said to himself.
“This is my band, Hot Lasagna and The Meatballs.”
NO.
Reb what have you done???
It’d been ages since Kip had smoked a blunt and he was longgg gone.
Once the show was finally over, the four of them headed back to Reb and Kip’s shared apartment. Kip couldn’t get into too much trouble at home. If only Rod and Paul knew the plans Reb had for the singer.
“Pauuuul? Where are Pink Floyd records? I gotta listen to The Wall right now!” Kip’s voice carried throughout the house, Kip had been frantically flipping through vinyls in a desperate attempt to find “The Wall”. Rod had taken all the Fleetwood Mac albums after Kip burst into tears five seconds into “Landslide”. His Fleetwood Mac privileges had been revoked until he could hold his composure, (who could blame Kip though? Doesn’t Landslide bring everyone to tears?).
Reb only had the little details figured out, and shrugged off the big details. He can always ask for forgiveness later, but as of now? He was gonna have some fun. Besides? Hair dye can’t do too much harm… little did he know he’d soon regret that thought.
Reb figured this was as good of time as any to get the ball rolling. “Hey, dude, you’d look so cool with neon orange hair.” Reb spoke up, taking Kip’s attention away from the box of vinyl records.
“You think so?” Kip asked, running a finger through his hair, “I’ve been wanting to change up my look for a while now but never thought about changing my hair color.”
“Oh, dude, it’d be so epic! I think I have some dye if you wanna—”
“Yes.”
“A-are you sure—”
“YES”
“Well, if you insist.” Reb shrugged, holding back the smirk that wanted so desperately to spread across his face, “Neon orange it is.”
It’s a wonder why Rod and Paul never stopped Reb when they finally noticed him adding the first round of bleach to Kip’s hair. Maybe they wanted to see it too, or maybe they figured it wasn’t their place to get involved. Regardless, by the time Kip woke up in the morning and hopped in the shower, his hair was gonna be the brightest orange he had ever seen. Maybe Reb had a death wish, maybe the fans would love it. There’s a lot of maybes…
“Thanks a lot for doing this, man, you’re a good friend,” Kip spoke as Reb rinsed the dye out of Kip’s hair.
“Anytime, Kip.”
The two had crashed on the couch while they waited for the singer's hair to dry. It was past three in the morning after all.
“WHAT THE HELL?” Kip’s loud shout woke the guitarist from his slumber, for a brief moment Reb had forgotten the events of last night, “REB WHAT DID YOU DO?!”
Stepping out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, Kip looked pissed off, but it was hard for Reb to take him seriously with the orange hair. Reb bursted into laughter, hunching over to hold his stomach as tears rolled down his cheeks. “This is the best gift I’ve given to myself, ever!” Reb laughed.
“You’re dead,” Kip glared at his friend, “You hear me? DEAD!”