Work Text:
“You almost ready?” Jordan called out from behind the bathroom door, tapping on it lightly with a single knuckle. “There’s no rush, obviously. We’ve got like.. an hour, I think.”
“Just finishing up my make-up, you can come in.” Marie replies, focused on her mascara application through Jordan’s (very dirty) bathroom mirror.
Jordan accepts the invitation and leans against the doorframe, intensly watching her brush the wand up through her eyelashes. Out of the corner of her eye, Marie catches on to their persistent gaze through their reflection behind her.
“You want some?” Marie asks genuinely. And then she smiles sweetly, that tooth-rottingly sweet smile that makes Jordan just melt every single time.
This offer catches Jordan off-guard, like a curiosity that’s been buried deep inside them from years of repression, never meant to be touched or thought of. They switch almost out of instinct, or rather trauma, as if now being physically invulnerable meant mentally, too.
“Oh, no, uh- that’s. It’s fine.” Jordan waves their hands around defensively and brushes off the topic immediately, putting up a wall in the form of their male appearance.
Marie notices. She always does. And she never pushes. But–
“You sure? I can do it for you, If you like.” She now turns to face Jordan for real, instead of looking at them through the mirror. “But ‘no’ is also a perfectly acceptable answer, too.”
Jordan has a million thoughts running through their mind, but can really only pinpoint “How did I get so lucky?” , which manages to drown out any other worry or concern. Sure, Jordan had played with make-up before. Cate had leant them an eye-shadow palette for Halloween the year before, and god did they look good with a dramatic smokey eye, but outside of Halloween, or any sort of big event, everything about the idea of touching brush to cheek, liner to eyelid, felt very wrong to Jordan. They had really only started presenting with their female form since they’d arrived at God U and Professor Brink took them under his wing, slowly luring them out of their comfort zone and showering them with the kind of support they could only dream their parents would show them. But even then, Brink was an old white dude. What the hell did he know about make-up? This was all uncharted territory for Jordan, to say the least.
They consider their options, gaze still locked onto Marie’s. Her expression is soft and welcoming, a door opened for Jordan – but she’d close it just as fast as she’d opened it and never open it again, if that’s what Jordan had asked of her. Which makes them really wonder again what they did to deserve her.
“So, how do I…?” Jordan trails off, clearing their throat. Marie puts her mascara down, pushing past Jordan to wheel in their office chair. She pats it gently.
Jordan takes a deep breath, and as they sit down, they switch back to their female form. They weren’t really sure what they were doing.
Marie attempts to ease their nerves, offering “You can switch back if you like. Doesn’t matter– whatever you feel comfortable with.”
Jordan nods, but retains the same form. They knew that this was a judgment-free zone, or even beyond it (if that was even possible), however they had already lived most of their years forcibly suffocated and all-consumed by the evil that is gender dysphoria and honestly just wanted to feel euphoric and pretty .
Marie rummages through her makeup bag, pulling out a small, fluffy brush, eyeliner, and a tiny eye-shadow compact.
“Everything else I have is in my shade, but I think we have time to make a pit-stop at a cosmetics store while we’re out.” She’s still grinning ear-to-ear, carefully setting out the products on the counter.
Jordan watches her silently as she holds up the palette, explaining to Jordan everything she’s about to do before she does it. She knows that this is a carefully guarded subject for them, and is doing her best to tiptoe around it without revealing her true excitement that Jordan had let their walls come down this much .
The brush touches their eyelid, and Marie lets them take a look at what’s happening every couple of seconds to make sure it’s up-to-par with their expectations of the experience.
After a few minutes, Jordan breaks the silence with “How do you know so much about make-up?”
Marie sets down the brush, now showing them the eyeliner pen.
“We weren’t allowed to own any at Red River, some “germ spreading” bullshit,” She starts, “but it was definitely just a weird regulation set by the geriatric misogynistic directors who didn’t want us to be ‘material’, or ‘vain’, or, like, have fun. But a few of the girls used to sneak some in, and we’d all sit around the computer and watch tutorials in the day, and after lights-out was called, we’d hide under a blanket with a flashlight and a compact mirror and try it out on each other.”
She caps the liner and puts it back in her bag, turning Jordan’s head towards the mirror.
Jordan swallows deep, staring back at themself. They felt so, so pretty. They would definitely be thanking Marie in about a million different wordless ways tonight.
“Just have to put on the mascara, and we’re done.” She pulls out the wand, instructing Jordan to blink as the brush hits their lashes. In the moments between, dark brown eyes are staring back at each other, full of true unconditional trust. Emotions hit Jordan like a ton of bricks, and they can feel their eyes welling up.
“Oh, baby.” Marie chuckles softly. “Don’t cry please – You’ll fuck up your mascara!” She bends down to Jordan’s eye-level, their lip quivering in an attempt to stifle tears from spilling out. Marie ever-so-gently wipes a stray tear from their cheek, tucking their jet-black hair behind their ear. Jordan whispers a shaky, but genuine “Thank-you”. Had they said anything else, the dam would have surely burst.
“You don’t have to thank me, baby. Just promise you’ll let me pick out the shade of polish when we paint your nails.” Marie had hoped for a laugh, and a laugh she received. Jordan sniffed through their giggles. “You have a deal.”
Marie rises back up again, but not completely without placing a chaste kiss to Jordan’s forehead. She finishes the application on their lower lashes, and spins the chair to the mirror for them to have a look at the finished product. They stand slowly, leaning closer to the mirror to get a better look at their appearance. Marie waits for a sign of approval before being pulled in for a long and sweet kiss. They pull apart, and their eyes search each other’s again.
“Thank you. Thank you so fucking much.” Jordan clenched their jaw. Marie knew they struggled with verbal gratitude, and so she didn’t hold them to any standards in that regard. More often than not, favours were returned with ridiculously good sex. Not that Marie was complaining. Like, at all.
“Of course.” Marie smiles, tidying up their workspace and hauling on her coat. Jordan spends a few more minutes looking at their reflection, fixing their hair meticulously and taking a few deep breaths before also grabbing their coat.
“Ready to go?” They ask Marie, but really it’s a question of self-assurance meant for themself.
She also takes a few deep breaths of her own, before responding with a;
“Yup. Let’s go meet your parents.”