Work Text:
“Stay still, idiot!”
“Sorry, Kacchan,” Izuku murmurs, trying not to move. Kacchan is very distracting, though, and the eyeliner pen so close to his eye makes it hard not to flinch. The pressure almost makes Izuku blink, but he manages to force his eye to stay at least partially still.
Kacchan scowls a bit, but doesn’t say anything. Izuku counts it as a win.
Sure enough, Kacchan’s face relaxes into mere concentration again, the tip of his tongue edging out between his lips. He looks cute like this, focused but not fierce. Not that Kacchan isn’t always attractive, but this is a side Izuku rarely sees.
It’s probably a side very few people see. Izuku flushes, the heat pooling under his cheeks.
If Kacchan wasn't trying to put make-up on him right now, Izuku would lean forward and kiss him. The impulse is hard to fight and some expression must drift over his face, because Kacchan scowls again.
“Stop thinking so hard, it’s messing me up,” he chides, leaning forward more. The eye pen trails against the corner of Izuku’s eye, cool and creamy.
Izuku stiffens, whispering another sorry.
Kacchan grabs something else, unscrewing it. Izuku is pretty sure it’s mascara. It’s also much, much worse than the eyeliner and Izuku flinches hard, blinking. Kacchan grumbles. “Don’t be such a baby. Millions of people do this every day, you know.”
“I know,” Izuku says sheepishly, “It just startled me. I’m not used to things coming at my eyes!”
He shifts on the bed. Kacchan’s sheets are a little softer than his, which isn’t helping Izuku sit still when his knees keep wanting to slide out from under him. Digging his palms into sheets he tenses.
“Ready,” he says, though his eyes are starting to dry out already . Kacchan is quick though, diving in with a few swipes up.
A bit of paper towel is shoved under his eye. “Blink,” Kacchan commands.
Izuku does so with amusement, the extra mascara smearing onto the towel.
“Is that it?” He asks. They’ve already done his foundation and blush, though Kacchan had been hesitant to put more on. Kacchan said it was because his stupid freckles were hard to cover, but Izuku hadn’t missed the way his jaw clenched when he said it.
Liar.
Kacchan totally liked his stupid freckles.
“Just lipstick,” Kacchan says, tapping Izuku’s chin, “Up.”
He follows, staring at Kacchan’s forehead. He has a nice one, when it isn’t covered up with his bangs. The All Might spa headband was also a nice touch. Izuku really wanted his own. The one he was wearing was just a blue spare.
Another pencil. Kacchan presses harder than with the eyeliner, but it’s ignorable. The powder is less so, as it makes him want to spit. Kacchan pokes his kneecap and Izuku stills.
Pity that his water bottle is so far away.
Kacchan uncaps the lipstick, leaning forward.
“Purple?” Izuku asks, because the lipstick is a dark plum shade. He’s only ever seen Jirou with that kind of color. Most of the girls stick to nudes or pale pinks, though Ashido likes to wear blue and green on occasion.
Kacchan’s eyebrows furrow. “It’ll suit you,” he says, sliding the tip of the lipstick across Izuku’s lips.
Well.
It isn’t as though Izuku knows much about makeup. His mom doesn’t wear it and he wasn’t close to anyone who did until UA. The feel of it is waxy, slightly unpleasant.
Another paper towel gets shoved at him.
“Again?”
“Yeah? Just dab some of it off, idiot.”
Izuku rolls his eyes, but does so. The shade left on the napkin is lighter than he’d expected, considering the shade of the tube.
He glances up.
Kacchan stares at him, unblinking.
“What?” Izuku asks.
The make-up on his face itches slightly, probably because he isn’t used to it. Izuku almost bites his lip, pausing when the waxy taste of lipstick hits his tongue. Self-consciousness rises in a wave, because what if he does look stupid-
“You look...good,” Kacchan says, finally. His eyes dart to the side, a faint hint of red at the tips of his ears.
“Oh,” Izuku exhales. His mouth is ten times drier than before. Kacchan scoots forward, one hand sliding on top of Izuku’s knee. His palm is sweaty, but Izuku’s hands aren’t fairing any better. He presses them against Kacchan’s chest, looking up into his eyes.
Kacchan leans close to him and Izuku lets loose a shuddery breath, eyes slipping close. The faint ticking of Kacchan’s clock sounds in the background, close in tune with the beat of Izuku’s heart. A hand slides against his cheek and Izuku nearly startles, stilling when a puff of hot breath caresses his lips.
Lips press against his, the hand on his cheek sliding up through his hair, nudging the edge of the headband. Izuku knots his fists in Kacchan’s shirt, pressing forward. He can hear Kacchan groan lowly, his grip tightening.
They part, noses brushing against each other.
There’s purple on Kacchan’s lips. Just a faint smear, but the sight of it sends heat to Izuku’s already flushed face.
Izuku does bite his lip this time and yelps when Kacchan pinches his thigh for it.
“Hey!”
“Don’t mess up my work, then.”
“You messed it up plenty on your own!”
Kacchan dives in, lips pressing against Izuku's own. This time it's harsher, messier. The waxy feel of lipstick moves to his upper lip when Kacchan pulls it up with his own.
Panting, he pulls away again.
“There, now I ‘messed it up’.” Kacchan smirks, and there’s even more purple smeared across his lips.
Izuku shoves him.