Dead Mall Dare [The Golden Years]
The boys get each other made up for the day's events! (With some good ol' fashioned bickering and bonding on the side, of course)
Sun and Moon adjacent // Wordcount: 1200
“Hold still.”
“I’m trying!”
“Well try harder,” Moon tuts, “you’re going to mess me up.” He wields the eyeshadow palette in one hand and a small biba brush in the other, dutifully painting the space over Sun’s eye - a deep, shimmering blue that mirrors the other side.
Smiling, he taps away the excess and sits back to admire his work.
“Let me see let me see!”
“We aren’t done–” He gently bats Sun’s hand away before it can reach the mirror, “–you can see when it’s all finished.”
“But I wanna see now!”
“Hush,” Moon tsks through a persistent smile, “You’re so impatient. Lay down again and let me get back to work.” He reaches for the eyeliner, next, waiting patiently for Sun to do as told before uncapping the bottle. “I’m going to do the liner, now, so you need to hold still. I mean it.”
“I will, I will.”
The brush is wetted, then drawn from its bottle. Moon readjusts his balance to his knees again and leans forward to hover an inch above the other. He smiles and, fondly so, Sun smiles back.
He adjusts their head by a gentle grip on the chin, angling Sun to get a better look at his face beneath the lights, then holds him there as the brush paints smooth lines on either side of his eye.
“You’re really good at this,” Coos Sun, “you should do the customer’s makeup sometime.”
“No talking,” Moon tightens his grip with a whisper, pointedly sharpening the angle with which he holds the other’s face, “don’t distract me or you’ll end up looking like you got dumped on prom night.”
Sun barely stifles a giggle - especially when he sees the beginnings of a violet hue cross Moon’s cheeks, “I mean it, though–”
“Quiet, please.” He sets the bottle to the side in favor of slapping a finger over Sun’s lips, an action that only proves to further rile the giggle in their throat. But he’s got a soft spot for Sun - and that dopey grin on his face, too - so it’s only a matter of seconds before he, too, is drawing the brush a safe distance away, snickering. “You’re a sap.” He says with a roll of his eyes, “Now seriously, shut up before we run out of time.”
“The mall doesn’t open for another hour,” he begins to sit up again, “we have plenty of time. Besides, there’s still your makeup to do after this.”
Moon presses a hand soundly against the other’s chest, forcing him back down against the couch again, and Sun doesn’t fight it beyond a quiet ‘oof’. He keeps the hand there to finish lining the other eye. “At this rate I’ll just do my own makeup,” he says - then he laughs, catching the way Sun pouts beneath him, “What? With how you’re squirming, I’m afraid you’ll poke my eye out with the brush.”
“I’d never!” Sun insists with a scoff, feigning offence, “I’ll have you know I’m a professional when it comes to this stuff. I’ll make you look like you belong on the red carpet, or your money back, guaranteed!”
“A pro, huh?”
“Mhm!”
Moon caps the eyeliner and replaces it on the table, taking a small package beside that and opening it with a hushed click, “Those are some big words coming from the guy who caused the Great Blush Disaster–”
“Oh, one time!” Sun throws his arms into the air, “I drop some Maybelline into the fountain once and nobody ever lets me forget about it.”
“Sun,” A laugh bursts from his throat, “you turned the whole fountain pink, it’s a little hard to forget.”
Crossing his arms, he fits Moon with an eyeroll and a narrow-eyed stare, sticking his tongue out between teeth. This only has Moon laughing harder.
“Put that thing away!” He gawks through fits of giggles, “Come on, if you want to do my makeup before the store opens you have to behave, or I’ll never finish.”
“Fine, fine,” Sun resigns his attitude, the returning smile stretching from ray-to-ray, “but if you bring up the blush disaster even one more time, so help me–”
“Zip it,” he taps Sun on the forehead, quieting him up with little more than a snicker. Satisfied, he goes back to the task at hand and retrieves a pair of luscious eyelashes from their box. Once the seal is removed his hand returns to Sun’s lower ray, keeping him still, and the two lashes are carefully smoothed into place.
“Now?” Sun asks impatiently.
“Almost,” he answers, reaching, now, for the mascara, “honestly, how do you get anything done without losing your head about it? Have some self control.”
“I’m just excited!” He’s careful not to stir too much as Moon closes the distance between them, “I think you’re the weird one for being able to sit so still. Who even does that? I’ll tell you - a mannequin! A mannequin does that!”
“Watch it,” Warns Moon, “this is the last step, if you must know, but if you rush me now I am not fixing whatever becomes of your face,” he clicks his tongue, “Look up for me.”
Another scoff, but he does well to silence himself after this and looks up as asked. Their ceiling is a rather boring scene to focus on, but he forces himself to hold out even after the mascara is capped and set to the side. It isn’t until Moon clears his throat that he moves, his expression asking the question on his lips.
Moon is ready for it and already has a hand-mirror prepared. “Go on,” he sighs, handing the item over with a smile, “I’m all finished.”
He can’t bring the mirror into place fast enough, and when he does it’s with a dramatic gasp, “Oh, wow!” He turns his face this way and that to properly admire every angle, then pauses, lowering at the chin to better see the eyeshadow specifically. He lowers the mirror. “You used colors from your own palette…?”
“I thought you’d look good in deep blue,” Moon answers with a shrug, “I know it goes against the rules, but I’m already in deep with Management after yesterday’s stunt, so I figure one more streak of defiance won’t make a difference.”
Sun nods, slow at first, then quick with delight, a small and innocent tear escaping his eye.
“Whoa, whoa, hey,” Moon grabs for a tissue, “you’re going to ruin all my hard work if you do that–”
But Sun doesn’t let him get any farther, eagerly wrapping his arms around Moon and bringing him in chest-to-chest with a squeal, “It’s perfect, Moon, just perfect,” he sniffles. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
A groan escapes him - mostly in tease - but he doesn’t deny the smile that appears at Sun’s words. “I’m glad you like it,” he says, “even if you did whine the whole time.” He pokes a finger at the center of Sun’s face, then, and smirks down at him. “Maybe I’ll let you use my cologne tomorrow - if you promise to have some patience.”
“You mean it?”
“Mhm,” Moon promises, “Now let me go, you big sap. It’s my turn to feel pretty.”
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