Work Text:
It was a normal night in Mexico City. The sound of the cars below was a calming lullaby for Lito as he stretched out on the bed, wrapping his arm around Hernando’s waist with Daniela on the other side, Hernando still reading the latest book for his review column. Daniela was playing a game on her phone while Lito was trying to catch some sleep, even with the light on. He had grown up listening to the telenovelas on the television as he slept, so this was hardly a hard thing for him. At least, until he heard Daniela’s question.
“You know, I don’t think I ever asked you. How did you two meet?” Lito’s eyes flickered open as he glanced up from his place on Hernando’s chest. Hernando gave an indulgent smile down at Lito as he thought back to that day, almost two and a half years before. Daniela settled in with a grin on her face, the sight of Hernando putting his book away telling her that this was going to be a good story.
“Well, it was back when I was still a make-up artist. I believe we were in the dredges of the vampire craze and I was the only one who knew how to do the proper make-up for such a plot…”
“We’re on in thirty minutes, people! Horatio, you need to get to Rodriguez’s trailer yesterday!” Hernando rolled his eyes as he made his way to the trailer, clutching his box of tricks just a bit tighter. He hated it when people purposefully got his name wrong, as though that would keep him from doing his job. They liked to pretend that they knew him with his thick cut glasses and the make-up box, but he’d show them one day he was so much more.
He found the trailer after a bit of searching, the sign on the side of the trailer finally revealing to him his next client in block lettering. “Mr. Rodriguez, I am Hernando, I’ll be your make-up artist today.” Hernando told them as he opened the door, watching as they turned in their chair and he was face-to-face with utter perfection.
“Mr. Rodriguez is my father, you can call me Lito.” Hernando blinked, his stomach flipping over as he tried to comprehend what was happening. He cleared his throat after standing there like a complete imbecile and nodded as he made his way to the swiveling chair. The trailer was just slightly larger than the ones he had been in the past, with plenty of room on the vanity for Hernando to open his box and start taking out what he needed. Brush, a few sets of foundation, a whitening solution to add to the ethereal glow that was already coming off of this man like he had just stepped down from the pearly gates to grace the world with his presence.
Lito closed his eyes and tilted his chin up, giving Hernando a better view of his long slim neck and the skin that his undershirt put on display. He quickly crossed himself, praying for whichever god that was listening to give him strength. It was hard enough to focus on this job whenever he had to deal with very particular clients, but when a very attractive man was practically exposing himself to him, he knew it would be so much harder.
He focused on one section at a time, starting on the base foundation, then to contouring. He just had to accent those already perfect cheekbones just a bit more, add some whitening solution here and there. Once that was finished, he moved onto the eye make-up, forcing him slightly closer. Lito looked completely relaxed, perhaps even asleep. That was hardly far, especially since Hernando was fairly certain that he hadn’t taken a full breath since he walked in. “How long have you been doing this, Hernando?” Lito asked, finally breaking the silence.
“Hmm?” Hernando hadn’t fully understood the question, caught on the lilt in Lito’s voice. A small smile graced his face as he repeated his question.
“Male make-up artists aren’t exactly an expansive breed. How long have you been doing make-up?” Hernando nodded in agreement.
“Oh, about six months or so. Make-up has always fascinated me in the way that it can completely capture someone’s true self with only a few flicks of the brush.” He spread the eyeshadow over Lito’s lids, darkening them to capture the red of the contacts that would be put in once he was finished. “It can accent someone’s beauty that not only they are wanting to achieve, but what they want others to see. It is an art that few people appreciate.”
“It’s a true shame.” Lito agreed, “Do you talk like that about everything?” His eyes opened and an expressive brown met his.
“Like what?” Hernando asked as he went back to his bag of tricks and pulled out a black eyeliner to darken the corners. “Eyes closed.”
“Like you are speaking about the Lord’s truth.” Hernando hummed as he carefully spread the eyeliner, wiping away the accidental wing that he had created with a tissue.
“I suppose so. There are so many things that deserve adoration, things that not everyone can enjoy.” He explained. “I can stop if it annoys you.” He’d rather not be kicked off the set because of a frustrated client who didn’t want to hear him ramble on like he often did. Lito’s eyes blew wide, making Hernando jerk back so that he didn’t spread the eyeliner over the eyeshadow.
“No! I mean, it’s nice. Beautiful.” Hernando gave a soft smile, motioning for him to close his eyes again. Lito obliged, relaxing once that had been settled. “I don’t suppose you follow wrestling that much. A bit too worldly?”
“No, actually I was watching one of Absimo Negro’s old videos and I was thinking to myself, how did someone once so great become so underwhelming?” Lito grinned, making Hernando have to pull away so that he wouldn’t smudge the make-up again.
“That is exactly how I’ve felt lately. Of course, I recognize that the shift to WWE was a necessary one, but where is the finesse that was so vital?”
“Yes! And of course there are those who say that the way that we wrestle is more a ballet act, but what is wrong with that? We do not merely slam ourselves onto the mat and be done, we create a different kind of atmosphere. It is not merely a competition, it is a conversation, a story that is told in albeit a violent way.” Hernando touched up the sides of Lito’s neck with more contouring, accenting his jugular. Once he was finished, he told him, “That should be it for today. The girls on set will touch you up as needed.” Hernando hadn’t realized how close he was leaning until he took a breath and saw that his shirt was brushing across Lito’s chin. Lito glanced up at him from his seat, blinking owlishly.
He didn’t want to make assumptions, but there was something in Lito’s gaze, a kind of hunger that almost overwhelmed him that very few straight men had towards other men.
“Rodriguez on set!” The knock on the door forced Hernando away, breathing as though he had just run a marathon. Lito stood, carefully pulling on his flowing peasant shirt and inserting the blood red contacts. He glanced over at Hernando in the mirror, making Hernando feel as though he were the one that was moments away from being devoured.
It continued like this for almost a week, discussion flowing from wrestling to drama on set to drama on screen and then somehow to art.
“Art is something that deserves to be shared, not only with the higher class but also with the common people, those who need that inspiration more than those above them could begin to understand.” Hernando told him, finishing off the contouring on Lito’s neck and realizing that he had missed a part on Lito’s eyelid. “Close your eyes for me.” Hernando steadied himself on the chair with his knee as Lito tilted his head back, feeling the heat radiating off of Lito’s thigh like an open flame. As he brushed the eyeshadow over Lito’s eyelid, Lito spoke,
“You speak with such passion. I almost have to wonder if your girlfriend is this lucky in other areas.” Hernando glanced down at Lito as he opened his eyes, looking up at him in question.
“Girlfriend? Oh… I, well, I don’t swing that way.” He was always wary who he told this to, but there was something in the way that Lito had said that. It felt less like an off-hand comment but more of a probe. A light entered Lito’s eye when he realized what Hernando meant and that hunger returned full force. If Hernando had been a lesser man, he would have squeaked.
“Really? Boyfriend, then?” Another probe, Hernando was sure of it this time. Hernando shifted slightly in his position, realizing that they had gotten much closer over the course of this line of questioning.
“No, not at the moment.” He could practically taste the peppermint of Lito’s breath spray that he was so very fond of. They were sharing the same breath nearly, if he dared he could just lean just a hair down, brush against those soft lips just to test the water, he could always say that it was an accident, but it was heady and he wanted it more than he wanted air itself and if he dared, he could do it.
“Rodriguez on set!” Hernando flew back, accidentally sending Lito spinning the other way as he tried to put as much room between them as possible. Lito skid to a stop as his supervisor walked in, checking on the two of them. “Get into costume, we need to finish this scene today, Lito.” Hernando was trying to get his breath back, feeling as though he had just done something indecent although nothing had actually happened. Lito stood, a small flush there that Hernando almost couldn’t have dared to be there if it weren’t for the fact it was clear on his face.
Once Lito left, Hernando made a rash decision. He pulled out a piece of scrap paper from his box of tricks and scribbled on it the following message:
If you want to see how passionate I can be, Diego de Rivera Musuem, Sunday, 1300. 55-460-2049 –H
~*~
“…And now here we are two and a half years later.” Daniela cooed as Lito pulled Hernando down into a kiss, grinning in delight.
“I still have that note.”