Work Text:
This was the first time Ingo has invited you to his home, you thought as you gently wrung your hands out of a nervous habit. It wasn't that you were scared, or that you didn't want to, it was just… new. Most of your romantic relationships ended in flames, always being "complicated" or "we're just friends".
But things are different now! You and Ingo were going strong, and it was a pleasant surprise for both of you. You weren't one to rush headfirst into a relationship, opting for a more slow-paced romantic life with fewer partners overall. You had a taste of quick and dirty relationships and decided never to do that again, you just wanted someone to snuggle up with on the couch while you binged your favorite anime for the fifteenth time!
Ingo was in the exact same boat as you, maybe minus the anime part. You've known each other for a while, specifically through Nimbasa's gym leader, Elesa. She was your best friend who you met at work, and (being the lovely human being that she is) desperately tried to set you up with Ingo. She'd always say something like "you have a lot more in common than you realize!" or "what's the worst that can happen?"
Well, the worst that can happen would be another messy breakup, and losing not only your boyfriend but your best friend as well, but you took Elesa's advice and asked him to dinner one night. It's been smooth sailing since then, but you quickly learned that Ingo had the tendency to overwork himself, apparent by his absent gaze when you two went out for breakfast a few weeks ago. After that, you've been inviting him out for early dinners, essentially giving the subway boss a reason to slow down and relax for once.
Today you convinced Ingo to get off early, (which was your normal clock out time) hoping to take a day to relax and spend some quality time with him. You didn't have any ideas in mind, until Ingo suggested that he could make dinner for the two of you, in which you graciously accepted his hospitality.
So there you sat, mulling over whatever worries you had from work on the train ride home, sandwiched between the two Subway Bosses. It was definitely crowded today, although maybe it was always this crowded? You've never taken this route during the rush hour, so you didn't have much when it came to expectations.
Ingo's hand gingerly intertwined with yours, his cheeks dusted pink as he tilted his hat down to cover his eyes. He was never one for PDA, but he did sprinkle in lighthearted hand holding and quick (as in lighting fast) pecks on the cheek, always accompanied by a flushed face and averted eyes.
You tilted your head to smile up at Ingo, curling your fingers around his knuckles and softly caressing his gloved hand with your thumb. The fluorescent lights flickered as the car hit a mild bump, Emmet groaning and going off on a tangent about the exact wire that was loose.
"Riiiight there." Emmet pointed, finger flicking happily towards the not-so-obvious electrical outlet hidden in the corner of the car. "Y'know, I could probably fix it for them!"
"No." Ingo replied instantly with his perpetual frown and furrowed brows, almost like he was prepared for Emmet to say something like that. His features softened when he met your gaze, but Ingo still needed to stop this horrible idea before it got off the rails. "Electricians exist for a reason."
"You're right, you're right." Emmet huffed, slamming his back to the seat like an impatient child. "I bet I could use Eelektross to make the lights brighter!"
"Please don't."
-
After a train ride filled with lots of electrical talk you didn't have a clue about, you heard the robotic voice name you station as Ingo and Emmet instinctively shot up to leave, you following at a much more discombobulated pace. As the train abruptly came to a stop, (you were glad you gripped one of the handrails or you would've crashed headfirst into Emmet) Ingo led you and Emmet through the herds of people and to the terminal, gently telling you to mind the gap as you alighted.
You barely noticed the way he still grasped your hand, the contagious upturn of his lips soon infecting your own.
Emmet picked up the pace and was at his brother's side, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he leaned forward to meet your gaze. "I am Emmet. I would like a hand to hold, too." His voice was almost void of all emotion, simply stating the facts with his perpetual smile.
Shit. That was Emmet's way of telling you to cut it out, wasn't it?
You physically felt your face flush at the realization, quick to uncouple your hand from Ingo's and leave it stiffly at your side. "'M sorry," You stutter out, stuffing your fists in your pockets and keeping your eyes self-consciously glued to the floor.
"No, no, it's fine." Ingo reassured you with an all-knowing sigh, naturally looping his hand in his brothers. "Emmet likes to hold hands on the way home. We did it when we were kids, but now it's a habit."
That made you feel a little bit better as you eased up, your gaze flicking back to Ingo. He cautiously extended his hand, if you were willing to take it. After shooting a glance at Emmet, who seemed completely unaware of your existence, you softly accepted Ingo's hand into your own, the subway boss giving a satisfied head-nod as your walk continued.
Emerging from the subway station was always a pleasant experience, it tends to get stuffy down there and reaching the top of the steps to breathe in the cool dusk air just felt right. There were far more people here than in that train car, some darting through crowds, others traveling in herds and obviously had too much to drink; regardless of the youth of the night. The bright neon lights illuminated the streets, making it as if the sun was always up on this strip.
"That's my hand that you're holding." Emmet continued their conversation from earlier, his tone dripping with an unusual jealousy for the naturally cheery man. "I always take Ingo's right hand."
"Emmet!" Ingo scolded him, shooting his twin a dangerous glare before completely flip-flopping in an attempt to ease your worries. "M-My apologies, (Y/N)."
You opened your mouth, hoping some sort of answer would form to justify your actions, or really anything, but nothing came out. Luckily Emmet wasn't one to wait around, quick to drop the tension with a coy smirk.
"Don't worry, I'll let you borrow it. Today only."
Why was he being so territorial all of a sudden? You didn't know Emmet that much, but he definitely hasn't acted like this before.
A short and sweet "Mkay, thank you," escaped your lips, the only thing your brain could output during this odd moment. You instinctively drew closer to Ingo in the large crowds, choosing to cling onto his sleeved arm rather than hold his hand. You didn't even know this section of Nimbasa, if this was even Nimbasa anymore! Getting lost would only make things worse, especially since the train home stopped running past 8. Wait.
"Ingo?" You quietly called for help, your sudden quick and panicked tone making his heart rate skyrocket.
"Yes?"
You squeezed his arm, looking out among the crowds as you walked, both twins turning the corner as your feet fumbled to follow.
"How am I going to get home?"
"By the subway, of course!" Emmet chimed in, his sing-song tone not making your anxiety any better.
"Yeah, why-?" Ingo began, voice drifting off as he mentally drew a map of the entire subway system in his head. Okay, to get to that sector you take 5th Avenue Station, hop on train F…
shit.
Emmet had no clue where you lived and brushed off your comment, as eccentric as always in his wide steps. Ingo needed to confirm his worries before panic could truly set in. "Hey Emmet," the Subway Boss in black began, pulling Emmet from his childlike daze with a sweet "mhm?"
"Let's say you needed to get to 51st street. What's the most optimal route, considering the night shift?"
"Oh! Hmm…" Emmet put on his thinking cap, his smile thinning out to a straight line as he stroked his chin in thought. "It depends on where you are, but no one travels there late at night. The closest you could get is 35th Avenue's station, but it'd be a lot of train hopping."
You knew that station, it's around where you worked. Walking back home would easily be a half-hour walk, and although the weather was gorgeous, you didn't want to be roaming the streets that late by yourself. Your clutch on Ingo's arm tightened as you pressed more of yourself into his side, silently scolding yourself for being this forgetful. Checking the train schedule should have been the first thing you did, you dumbass!
"It's okay," Ingo was quick to soothe you, his hands were a bit preoccupied, the best he could do was a gentle kiss on the top of your head. "We'll just call a cab."
"Cabs are lame! Cars are stupid!" Emmet pouted, sticking out his tongue in disgust. You and Ingo could only laugh, unanimously agreeing with that statement. A train ride would have been much better, but cabs work too.
Your group approached a well-kept and tall building, Emmet holding the door open for both of you with his classic grin. Thanking him, you and Ingo navigated to the elevator, making sure the door didn't close before Emmet rushed in.
-
"Welcome to my castle!" Emmet exclaimed, having opened the door in a grand motion after trying every key on his keychain. Ingo all the while shooting you a look that clearly stated 'he does this every time'.
It was a meek apartment, surprisingly spotless and modern. Cool hanging lights led you into the open kitchen, featuring marble countertops and sleek black cabinets. Past that was the living room, a large window spanned the entirety of the wall displaying the beauty of the city, the skyline was still visible and illuminated the room with a golden glow. To the right of the scenic view, a large TV was mounted on the wall surrounded by shelves with items ranging from Pokemon documentaries to model trains. Directly across from that wall was a large black leather couch, Emmet promptly flinging himself upon the squishy cushions with an overly dramatic groan.
"Don't mind him." Ingo dismissed Emmet's behaviors with a flick of his hand, a short and sweet giggle escaping your lips. There were two rooms, each with closed doors, presumably the bedrooms.
Ingo led you to one of the doors, effortlessly pushing it open to reveal absolute darkness. Flipping on the light switch, you rapidly blinked a few times to adjust to the new lighting. Ingo's room.
He had a large bed, probably a queen, draped in a horizontally striped monochrome bed sheet that matched the accents of the room. The walls were a dark muted gray, his furniture matching the monochromatic theme. Everything was neat and tidy, exactly as you'd expect in Ingo's room. Every item had a home, and even his large black desk didn't have a speck of dust, the swivel chair neatly pushed in to conserve space. The more you thought about it, the more his room looked like one of those IKEA display rooms, precise and well put together.
"We've got all sorts of stuff to do," Ingo began, shrugging his jacket off on his shoulders as you looked around. "Movies, board games, heck, I have Jenga if you want." He listed, opening his closet that extended for most of one of the walls. "Don't be surprised if I defeat you, though. If there was a Jenga champion, it'd be me. Emmet doesn't cheat, but man does he try. At least he's crafty with it." A well-mannered grin grew on Ingo's features, his tone light and cheery as he continued to undress himself. He loosened his tie around his neck, taking a hanger to store his signature Subway Boss coat, and that's when you saw it.
"Ingo oh my Arceus."
"Hm?" His head swiveled around to find your eyes trained on one article of clothing. It took a minute for his brain to compute, but once he followed your gaze the Subway Boss practically combust with embarrassment.
At the end of your gaze was a Slipknot t-shirt, well-worn and hanging proudly at the front of his wardrobe. Similar shirts peeked out from behind the grungy band tee, just begging for you to see them before Ingo obscured your vision.
"You'll have to excuse my carelessness," Ingo insisted, an octave too loud, quick to slam shut the flimsy doors of his closet. His cheeks flushed a deep crimson that was prominent all the way to his ears, his usual composure gone in mere seconds. "I should have conducted more cleaning about my living space."
"No, no," You teased him with a coy smirk, gently tapping him to move aside, "Let me see your beautiful fashion tastes."
Ingo could have shriveled up in humiliation, his hands tensing up nervously as he witnessed you sliding the doors wide open, picking up exactly where your eyes left off.
"Hmm, we got Slipknot, we got Korn, Linkin Park, Three Days Grace… mhm, even My Chemical Romance!" You listed, pulling out the graphic tees as you named them, grin growing as Ingo shrank away, more and more abashed by the minute.
"I… I went through a phase in high school." Ingo gulped, trying to save face the best he could. You couldn't help but giggle, looking further to find other items like studded metal belts, thick chained necklaces, spiked wristbands, baggy tattered jeans, and was that a hint of demonias back there?! Man, you didn't even know Ingo had this side to him.
"It's cool." You noted, beaming as you turned back to Ingo. His tone did a complete 360, going from flustered to heartening, almost in disbelief, in mere seconds.
"R-really?" Ingo stuttered out in awe, his face not losing any of its vigor as his hands clutched themselves nervously.
"Of course!" You praised, holding all of the hangers in one hand to cup his heated cheek with the other. "Did you do your makeup too?"
The subway boss didn't directly answer you, his eyes shooting away faster than light said more than words could.
"Do you still have the products?"
"...no."
A blatant lie.
"I know what we're doing tonight."
-
As insignificant as it may have sounded, that's exactly what you wanted to do. Ingo never even hinted that he was into this kind of stuff, not to mention the thought never crossed your mind. Rummaging through his wardrobe and making an outfit on the fly, you threw a stack of clothes at the flustered subway boss who could only watch in awe. He tried to reason with you, but reluctantly agreed after you started giddily cheering "Fashion show! Fashion show! Fashion show!"
Prodding you to leave, you were quick to hop into the open living room and wait for Ingo to complete his edgy transformation. Emmet was exactly where you left him, plopped on the couch, head craned to face the TV to watch late-night cartoons. Even though you were only gone for a short time, the sky had quickly dissolved into a deep purple, the only light now being from the TV and the lights leading into the kitchen. Somehow, Emmet's Galvantula snuck out of its Pokeball, curled up on his back and snuggled further into the folds of his jacket.
"Emmet," you whisper-spoke, attempting to get his attention but not wanting to disrupt too much. He actually didn't wear his iconic smile for once, his lips pursed into a frown that looked nearly identical to Ingo's.
Emmet's heavy eyes flicked to you, his mouth involuntarily turning itself upwards as he replied with a gentle "What?"
"Where is your makeup?"
"Makeup?" Emmet wracked his brain, taking his only free hand to comb his hair back with his fingers. Why would…
oh.
Emmet would have burst out laughing if it wasn't for the 30 pound tarantula sleeping soundly on his back, instead opting for a choked cackle. "You can't be serious."
"Hell yeah I am." You affirmed, a crooked grin plastered on your features.
"Alright, In the bathroom, bottom right drawer." He instructed, rubbing his brow in exhaustion with a smile matching your own. "Have fun."
-
"Alright, come in." You heard Ingo call from you inside, his tone meek and disappointed; most likely in himself more than you.
You creaked open the door, a small makeup bag in hand and audibly gasped when you saw the transformation. Ingo went from the uptight battle-loving subway boss to an angsty teen with only an outfit change, his lips still tilted downwards with a pink shade to his cheeks. He stood awkwardly, hands stuffed in the pockets of his scraggly baggy jeans as his eyes cautiously met yours. You still couldn't believe you convinced him to do this.
With a wide giddy smile you crashed into him, wrapping your arms around the small of his back (he was wearing demonias, after all) and breathing in his musky cologne. "You're the best." You admitted lovingly as you nuzzled your face into his tight slipknot tee, your words coming out muffled against his skin.
Ingo released some of the tension building in his thin frame, contently sighing while he brushed the hair behind your face, trying his best not to harm you with his thick spiked wristbands. "Anything for you, my love."
"Anything?" You tilted your head up to give a devious look at the subway boss, jingling the bag that was still in your hand.
With a soft chuckle, he carefully pushed away your hair to plant a soft kiss on your exposed forehead. "Anything."
Although you wanted to stay wrapped in his spiny embrace for the entire night, there was work to do! Things to accomplish! You broke away from his warm embrace to set the beauty supplies on his desk, making quick work of the zipper and laying all of the contents out so you could plan your masterpiece. Ingo was your canvas tonight and you were about to become Picasso, of course with the canvas' consent.
Ingo still felt that being around his romantic partner, who was currently wearing a very business-casual outfit, in attire he never wanted you to see just felt odd. He'd never tell you that he actually did wear this exact outfit recently, although that was because he was reuniting with some of his old friends who wouldn't judge him for his tastes. So although he did peer over your shoulder (quite literally peer, his shoes gave him an extra 5 ½ inches) curiously to see what caught your eye, there was still a twinge of self-consciousness in his gut that he just couldn't shake.
"Aha!" You cried excitedly, whirling around with all sorts of products in your hands. "I've got it!"
You prodded Ingo to sit in his swivel chair, plucking his hat off of his head and throwing it like a frisbee onto his bed. Flipping out your phone, you quickly opened Spotify to play quiet 2000s rock for background noise, placing it on the desk so you could get to work. You were expecting to need another seat, but surprisingly Ingo didn't grow much shorter when sitting. He adjusted the chair to make it easier for you, his eyes about the height of your chest, hands clenching the arms of the chair.
"Alright, do you have any preferences? Or just whatever comes to my mind?" You prodded, squeezing moisturizer onto the tips of your fingers and lathering your finger's pads with lotion quickly, making an audible squelching noise.
"Mm, Anything works." Ingo admitted, cursing himself for getting so worked up as your cool fingers met his sweltering skin. He contently and oh-so-quietly hummed into your touch as you massaged his facial muscles, pushing his hair away while you worked to thoroughly moisturize his skin. "This was your idea, after all."
"Mhm, mhm!" You affirmed, bouncing happily to the dark music. "Just relax, let the emo boy flow through you." You joked, giggling as you searched around for primer (if he even had any), finding a small lightweight bottle and squirting some onto your soft fingers.
Ingo gave a lighthearted, short and sweet chuckle, but you could still sense his tension; the subway boss' eyes trained on the quick and fluttering movements of your hands. It felt like he was conflicted, like half of him actually enjoyed this, while the other half was restraining himself and not allowing him to release his tense muscles.
"We can do something else if you really don't like this." You stated simply, your movements never waning as you gingerly primered Ingo's face, making sure to outline his delicate features.
"No! No-" He exclaimed an octave too loud, reeling himself back with a deep breath. "I enjoy this. Maybe too much." Ingo muttered the last remark like it was a pain to admit it, locking eyes with you as you continued your ministrations. He looked so helpless at this angle, looking up at you as if you were a saint.
"Well, you'd probably like it more if you weren't so tense." You quipped harmlessly, tracing his cheekbones with your slicked thumbs.
"But… But I-"
"No buts." You commanded, deeming Ingo ready enough and pulling your hands away from his perpetual flushed cheeks. "Relax. I'm literally doing your goth makeup, I think we're beyond judging each other."
With an audible gulp, Ingo steadied himself for the time being, his hands neatly folded in his lap as his gaze followed your every move. Collecting a small beauty blender and tube of foundation from the table, you quickly put a dot of the product on the beauty blender. Ingo's face was relatively blemish-free, unless you counted eye bags. But that only added to the aesthetics!
Lightly patting the foundation onto his moisturized skin, you blotted out any scars or discolorations you could find, being very conservative with your strokes.
Alright, now onto the fun stuff.
Ingo definitely caught onto your playful lips as you excitedly hunted for your next tool. I guess this wasn't too bad? "So," He began, urging his normal confident nature to reveal itself. "I assume you don't do this often." The subway boss joked, a soft smile growing on his features.
"Oh, actually, I did this a lot." You confided, eyes never leaving your task as your hand shot to a dark eyebrow pencil, fingers fumbling to grip its smooth surface. "Man, this really makes me miss high school. College too."
"College too?" Ingo's brows furrowed in astonishment, his gaze now flicking from your concentrated features to the pencil you were testing on the back of your hand.
"Yep. Every morning, probably until senior year of college. I'm pretty sure work would kill me if I walked in looking like a Homestuck character though."
"That's pretty impressive!" Ingo chimed, his vigor returning as you pushed some of his stray hairs from his face to get a better look at his angular eyebrows. "What if you could be goth every day though? Would you?"
"That's the million dollar question, hm?" You hummed, currently preoccupied; one hand holding his skin taut while the other used the pencil to darken his silver eyebrows. "I guess it depends." Your words were drawn out as you concentrated, doing a large arc tracing the natural line of his brow in order to clean up any errors in your work.
"Like, I would not want to do heavy makeup when giving a presentation to higher-ups. It's not very business-y, y'know?" You chattered on, deeming that side good and moving onto the next. "I tend to be a perfectionist though, so I'd only do something extravagant for a big gettogether. Like a concert or something!" You continued, finishing faster than the first eyebrow, using a thumb to clean up the bridge of his brow. Drawing away, you double-checked that it looked perfect, swerving your head about to view him at different angles. Yep, looking good!
"Mhm, I guess I'm in the same car as you." Ingo bobbed his head quickly in agreement, "Arriving home late every night doesn't allow for many post-work activities."
"Maybe that means you should take a day off," You hinted, still perky as ever as you went back to the pile of beauty supplies.
"Oh shit! Sorry-" You exclaimed, only to quickly back up and excuse yourself for the foul language. Ingo was never one to curse, and not knowing his stance on it, you ultimately decided to try and not do it around him. Of course, you weren't perfect. The subway boss' stature never wavered, though, his gaze curiously trained on you in an attempt to find the source of your surprise.
Your hand shot to the chapstick, quickly unsheathing it from its plastic casing. "This is what I forgot!" You knew something was missing, but it slipped your mind just as fast as it popped in.
It was a weird sensation applying lip balm to another person's lips, especially chapped lips. His weren't bad, not horrifyingly cracked, but not silky smooth in any regards. Ingo always put the needs of others above his own, though, so knowing him and his work schedule, having soft lips wasn't top priority. Usually you applied lip balm very liberally, feeling for the edges of your lips and barely tracing them. With Ingo, though, you couldn't feel the chapstick on his skin, so you just prayed it worked out as you went.
I guess Ingo could've done this himself, you absently thought as you moved to his down curved lower lip. It was nice pampering him though, and although the subway boss couldn't speak right now, he probably thought it was nice too! He deserves a good makeover, even if this was only temporary.
"Alright, good! Crisis averted." You declared, pulling away with your hands resting ambitiously on your hips. "Now, onto the eyeshadow!"
Next, you took one of the mid-sized makeup brushes (which was, quite literally, one of those cheap dollar store paint brushes) and found a small eyeshadow palette, very obviously from Hot Topic. You would say it was a 'blast from the past', but realistically you went there the other day with a stack of Hot Cash and left with all sorts of neat jewelry.
"Don't worry, I won't botch you. This is my favorite part." You explained with a little happy dance, running your hands through his messy hat hair to look into his luminescent silver eyes.
"I hope so." He playfully teased, his resting frown replaced with a lax smile as his eyes fluttered closed.
An idea swirled into your consciousness when you studied the colors of the palette, starting with a deep crimson for the initial coat. Lightly dotting some color onto the brush, you tilted Ingo's head to get a better angle, your movements feather-like on his sensitive eyelids.
You initially thought this was going to be easy, but you severely underestimated how gentle you had to be. Ingo flinched at the slightest of motions, and even when you held his lid down he still (unconsciously) struggled against you.
"I-I'm sorry (Y/N)." He apologized sincerely, hands intertwining themselves nervously in his lap. "I forgot how twitchy I can be."
"No, no, I understand." You reassured, retracting your hands, brows furrowing in thought. You were only able to messily fill in the hoods of his eyes, lines that should have been smooth and clean-cut were ragged and uneven. "I think it's just the angle, it's difficult to control my hand." You noted, absentmindedly twirling the brush between your fingers.
Ingo replied with a soft "Hmm…", thinking just as hard as you on a way to detour off this blocked path. The lightbulb went off, equally illuminating his brain and facial features. No, no that wouldn't work. But…
"U-Um," Ingo gulped, his skittish nature returning as fast as Johto's Magnet Train. Arceus, why was speaking so difficult? It had always been his strong suit, yet now his throat fell dry like his vocal cords had been ripped out. "Emmet had a… a method. If you want to try." His words were drawn out, hesitant because he knew your response would be -
"As long as it doesn't involve using a Galvantula to hang you from the ceiling, I'm down." You teased ludicrously, a smirk growing on your features as you spoke.
Besides the Galvantula part, Ingo was pretty spot-on with his prediction. The worst part was Emmet was absolutely the type of person to suggest that sort of thing, something bizarre that no one should ever try. He was sensible when it counted, but Ingo couldn't begin to recount the times he returned to a smoke-filled home, Emmet screaming at his Eelektross to douse the flames conjuring up in the oven.
Even as high-strung and tense as he was, Ingo still snorted in laughter from your comment, pushing off of the arm chairs to lift his unnaturally high form. "I promise, no Pokemon are involved." He chuckled, mentally soothing himself as he slid onto his bed, head resting just below the pillows.
Your brows furrowed in confusion, nevertheless taking your cue to join him, sticking tubes of products between your fingers and shuffling to the edge of the bed.
"It- it may be a little unconventional," Ingo's momentary confidence was shattered once again, and at this point it almost pained you how jittery he was.
"You're fine, Ingo. Again, I'm not one to judge, I'm truly having a good time right now." You hoped your genuine words reached him, the weak upturn of his lips portraying his emotions for him.
"I know, I guess it's just… a learning curve." He admitted gently, taking a deep breath in hopes of calming his raging heart. "Come, sit." Ingo motioned to the space vacant above his head, and you wordlessly did as he asked, situating yourself and sitting criss-cross just above his head.
Ingo used his elbows to prop his neck up, scooting back to cautiously resting his head in your lap, stray strands of hair falling perfectly against your thighs. "Is this satisfactory?" He asked meekly, eyes flicking from your seemingly intense gaze to anywhere else in the room self-consciously.
"Oh Ingo, you sweetie," You cooed, your hands tracing his heated face, his blush reaching his ears and even down his neck some. "Of course. Now relax yourself, for real this time."
With a humble "okay", Ingo shifted in his spot to get comfortable, eyes flicking open when they could to watch you work from this new angle. It felt like when Emmet would do his makeup, but better. Ingo was the early riser in the household, and often asked Emmet (who was very much a night-owl) to help him in the mornings. It became a morning ritual, Emmet groggily waking hours before school just to help his older brother, crashing back asleep seconds later. When Emmet did his twin's eyes, it was sloppy and it truly felt like he was only doing this so he could go back to bed.
With you however, you actually cared about the final look, very deliberate in your strokes and blending colors in the corners of his eyelids. Emmet just slapped black on and called it a day.
After gradually shading from deep red to black, you took a flat brush and gingerly ran it along Ingo's lower eyelid a millimeter below his eyelashes, holding his skin taut with your ring finger and humming along to the song playing.
"Have I ever told you how pretty your eyes are?" You absently inquired, your pinky finger gently swiping below his lower lash towards the side of his face to create a more natural fade.
The sudden flattery caused Ingo's train of thought to slam the breaks, his mind temporarily shutting down. He knew he had to respond, but his brain wasn't giving his mouth any input, leaving him to stare up at you like a Magikarp, words leaving his lips without his permission. "I-... Erm-"
"Well, they're very nice. I like them." You stated simply, your soft smile reaching your eyes as you took another moment to define his scorching jaw with your hands. It was too easy! Not to mention Ingo was absolutely adorable when he was putty in your hands.
"Oh. Thanks." Ingo's response was curt, unnatural for the older subway boss, his scarlet cheeks and imperfect grin saying more than words ever could. "I… I like yours too."
"Mhm?" You hummed in curiosity, your other pinky doing the same motion as the first on Ingo's other eye, and after a thorough examination you deemed the eyeshadow good. Now, onto the most scary part. Eyeliner.
Eyeliner could make or break a look, and there were multiple occasions when half an hour's worth of eyeshadow went down the drain due to an elbow being hit or hand slipping. You weren't really sure if doing it on another person would be easier or not, but you'd see soon enough.
"Y-yeah! I mean, I like a lot of things about you, but your eyes are so… unique." Ingo swooned, his body further melting into your own as he lovingly gazed up at you; even though you shuffled through the many bottles on the bed to find any form of eyeliner. "In a good way!" He clarified, subconsciously realizing that 'unique' could mean hundreds of things.
"Like, even if I lost you in a crowd of people, I'd be able to find you just from your eyes."
You snorted from his unrealistic yet affectionate monologue, adoring the effort. "What about my face? You recognize my eyes more than my face?"
"N-No! Your complexion is great too!" Ingo mentally backed up, the sheepish tint of his cheeks still prominent as he held his hands out in defense. "I just meant-"
"I know what you meant, you dummy." You giggled, peering down at him with that mischievous gaze of yours. "It's just fun to tease you. Thank you." You confessed, pushing his hair out of his face dotingly with your thumb.
"Close your beautiful, amazing eyes for a second, I gotta do eyeliner." You gushed amusingly, attempting to contain your giggles with a snort as you shook the pen of gel eyeliner.
Ingo did exactly as you asked, a wide, relaxed smile still on his lips. You never saw him smile this much, he probably secretly enjoyed the teasing and how odd this situation was. It only reflected how different your and Ingo's relationship was compared to other romantic relationships, and you both were having a blast.
"I kind of suck at this part, so don't move around a lot, okay?" You confessed, uncapping the gel pen with a plastic pop, your torso towering over him as you leaned forward to get a steadier hand. "Don't expect any cat eyes or something fancy."
"No need to fret," Ingo chuckled, his shut eyes flinching from the initial feeling of the eyeliner but soon growing used to its drag on his upper eyelid. "Emmet only did my eyeliner on rare occasions, but he was always quick and sloppy with it. Don't tell him I said that." The subway boss added quickly at the end, not ready to get into a verbal fight with his younger brother over his quick and dirty beauty routines.
And Ingo understood why he was like that, too! Emmet never volunteered, and Ingo was grateful for the bare minimum. Even if Ingo was grateful, Emmet knew just where that bare minimum line was and carefully hit it every time.
"I won't." You drawled, still listening but definitely concentrated on the task at hand. With the dark color around his eyes, it was actually a lot easier to do your simple eyeliner. Even if you messed up a little, it wasn't visible from more than a few feet away.
"Did Emmet do this often?" You questioned, now only going back to clean up the places your hands shook, creating a neat arc.
"I always required his assistance, so yes." Ingo confided, eyes still closed as he felt your body lean to the other side, attempting to recreate whatever magic you did on the first eyelid. "His lady friends taught him how to do some really advanced techniques, but he despised my sense of style. He was very… flamboyant. With his fashion choices."
"Ah, I see. The gay kid."
"Erm… yes." Ingo's response was meek, mentally criticizing himself for letting the cat out of the bag. Maybe Emmet didn't want you to know that, being gay tended to be frowned upon in their highschool, and even though Emmet smiled through the harsh comments Ingo knew he was hurting.
"Man, that's cool! Good for him!" You chimed, finishing the other eye with a few gentle strokes under his lower eyelid to give the illusion of eyebags. "I could never have the confidence to do that in high school."
"Absolutely! I'm proud of him." Ingo's voice swelled with pride, eyes flipping open when he felt your hand retract. "How do I look?"
Ingo's silver eyes peered up at you innocently, his natural downturned lips returning to his features. Arceus, why did he have to be so cute?! Even with all of his grunge-y attire and menacing makeup you could still see the kind gentleman beneath.
"So far, so good!" You beamed, setting down the eyeliner where it once was. "I'll just do your lips really fast and call it a day, unless you want mascara or anything extra."
"That… won't be necessary. I don't even think we have mascara." Ingo thought, brows furrowing as he tried to recall where it would be. Both Ingo and Emmet never really used mascara with their naturally long lashes, but if they did have it, the poor bottle probably expired years ago.
"Okie-dokie," You sang cheerily, popping the lid off of the dark lipstick. You kindly asked Ingo to maneuver around so it'd be easier for you, the subway boss sitting up and turning around to sit criss-cross; his chunky boots making it much more difficult than normal.
"Almost done," You drawled as you scooted closer, the bed swaying with your movements as you tried to extend your torso to comfortably reach his lips. One hand rested on his cheek to keep his face straight, while the other dove in and began outlining his downturned lips with a deep shade of red.
Pulling away and making a motion for Ingo to roll his lips together, (which he promptly did) you wiped a smudge off the corner of his mouth and finally completed your masterpiece.
"Alright, that's it then!" You beamed, clicking the lipstick shut and setting it among the pile of beauty products. Grabbing the handheld mirror off his nightstand, you quickly adjusted Ingo's hair so it still remained relatively slicked back, spare a few strands that you meticulously picked to drape down his forehead just above his eyebrows.
"What do ya think?" You asked, a bit more shy than you would have liked, holding up the mirror so it perfectly hid his face from yours. It's not that you were embarrassed, it was just a bit nerve-wracking. What if Ingo hated it? He said he was on board with this idea, but he might have been just wanting to appease you. You weren't some perfect makeup artist either, or even an artist in general! Maybe-
"I love it!"
You peeked your eye around the mirror to find Ingo genuinely smiling, he almost looked like Emmet from how wide his features were, so childlike and pure. Not even his hands, which were held up in front of his mouth in shock, couldn't hide the strength of his grin. Ingo let out a giddy giggle, lightly prying the mirror from your hands to get a better look.
"You do?" You hesitated, even though you knew your question was rhetorical. Your lips curled upwards just watching Ingo admire your work, being sure to turn his head in every direction to view every angle.
You did your best, and Ingo could definitely see the love and devotion currently painted all about his face. Everything was done with such care, even if there were spots that would normally be deemed mistakes. He only saw it as a more 'homemade' look, like how his grandmother's apple pie wasn't technically perfect, yet the time and effort she put into somehow made it better than any baker could.
And the eyes! You spent so long on his eyes, attempting to pull off the 90s smoky eye look and you definitely delivered. It almost looked like Ingo was the star in some makeup tutorial online, and man was he basking in it.
"Of course! This is amazing!" He praised you, putting the mirror down in his lap to shine the full light of his angelic smile upon you, looking completely out of place on his currently grungy/teen angst form.
"You truly are something else, (Y/N)." Ingo swooned, eyes filled with such gentle love as he leaned in to press his lips on your cheek, making a cute "mwah!" as he pulled away.
"Oh. Erm…" Ingo's lax mentality from seconds ago fizzled out, leaving him in a sheepish state as his gaze remained glued to the dark smudged kiss mark on your cheek. "I apologize for overstepping my boundaries."
"You goof," Now it was your turn to grin, his perfect lipstick sent into disarray in seconds. Well, that's how it usually goes, anyways. "We can always put more lipstick on. That's the easy part." You kept your easygoing attitude as you shuffled off of the bed, beginning to reorganize the bag of products.
"No, I mean-"
"I know, I know." You cut him off, turning back to Ingo's form with an impish smile, a sly finger reaching up to tap your cheek, right where Ingo had mistakenly marked you. "I'm leaving it there and there's nothing you can do to stop me."
If steam could blow out of a human's ears like a choo choo train, that's quite literally what Ingo just did. You really had to stop yourself, but he got so flustered by the smallest of things! It was so much fun to be a tease, more fun than you thought it would be, and it was all in good fun.
Quickly flipping everything back into the quaint makeup bag, you pulled the metallic zipper closed and took it with you, along with the dirty brushes in a spare hand.
"Let's go show Emmet now, hm?"
"Sh-Show Emmet?!" Ingo practically jumped off the bed, grabbing the frame to steady himself before he flopped to the ground clumsily in his five inch platforms.
"Yep! What, you thought we weren't going to show you off? Didn't you just say that you liked it so much?"
"I…" Ingo hesitated, hating how clever you were with your fox-like grin. Next you were going to ask him to parade around Nimbasa or something absurd like that, he could just sense it. Of course, he'd be willing to do whatever you asked, albeit he may not enjoy every second. "I guess that's okay. Emmet has known me my whole life, so this shouldn't be too out of the ordinary."
"Exactly!" You beamed, quick to shuffle to the door. "C'mon, it's fashion show time!"