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It wasn’t a big deal to Joan, really. It was just a shade of lipstick. A deep, satin red, that suited George’s sharp face. Sometimes she would wear a clear lip gloss over it too, which was not a big deal. Occasionally, when her hair was a bit longer, she would style it in a way that so perfectly framed her face. It drew Joan’s eyes right to her dark lips.
Often, she thought about kissing her, some of the color transferring from her lips to her own. George was wearing that color yesterday, actually. And Joan could not seem to focus on practice.
“Joan, you missed the entrance,” Paul said, her lips pursed together.
Joan shook her head, looking back at the guitar in her lap, “Sorry, I’m off it today.”
George was wearing the same lipstick again today, the gloss too. Joan, ever so smart, took off her glasses. During lunch, most of the color had smudged off, so Joan assumed it would be safe to put her glasses back on. As she did, she noticed George pulling a small folding mirror out of her purse. Fuck. She tried not to watch George apply the lipstick across her smooth mouth. And then she tried not to watch her put the pretty clear lip gloss on top of it. And, really she did try, to not watch her rub her lips together, and open them with a cute pop!
Joan blushed, looking down at her sandwich. She didn’t wear makeup when she didn’t have to, and when she did it was only for television. It’s a good day in hell when she wears it on stage. That’s because you don’t do it right. You never use enough powder. Paul would say, patting under her eyes with a puff.
Joan wouldn’t mind if someone did it for her, to be honest. But it was too much of a hassle to do herself, especially when it never looked good. That night, the girls decided to stay at Paul’s place, due to an early morning.
Paul’s alarm wakes everyone up with a start, and while Paul trudges to the kitchen to get everyone a cup of tea, Joan’s eyes drift to George on the floor next to her. She’s sat up, her hands slapping her face lightly to wake herself up. She didn’t take her makeup off before she fell asleep, so her lipstick was smudged across her cheek. Oh. Joan sat up beside her and poked her cheek.
George looked over groggily, “Mornin’,” she grumbled, standing up. She stumbled into the kitchen where Joan heard Paul laugh at the sight of her.
“If you need a wipe, you know I have a thousand.”
“What’re you on about, Macca?”
“Look at your face.”
A second of silence before, “Fuck.”
George walked out of the kitchen with her cup and grabbed her makeup bag, “You weren’t gonna tell me?” She asks Joan and Ringo who still laid in her pile of blankets.
Joan shrugged, and George rolled her eyes, turning for the bathroom. Joan could see the light emanating from the room, the door wasn’t closed. So she stood up, going to lean on the doorframe. George looked at her from the corner of her eyes as she wiped the color from her cheeks, “Yeah, Len?”
Joan froze, she hadn’t thought about what she would say, and her wit was not coming to her this early in the morning. She settled on, “I like your makeup.”
George furrowed her brows, “Okay.”
“Would you do mine today?” she asked, tugging at the bottom of her shirt, a bit of nerves making it hard to sound confident.
Luckily, George didn’t seem to notice the nervousness, “Why don’t you ask Paul? She does it better than I do,” she hums, throwing the wipe away.
Joan shrugged, “I like the way you do it better, Paul’s makes her look too girly.”
George nodded in understanding. “Mhm, I can do yours after mine,” she said, pulling her hair back. Joan nodded and stood there, observing as she put on her moisturizer, “I’ll be a minute,” George hummed, shooting another side-eye her way. Joan swallowed quickly and walked to the kitchen.
In there, Ringo and Paul leaned against the counter, drinking from their cups lazily. She grabs the lone cup beside them and stands next to Paul. She turns to her, “Do you think I would look good in a lipstick like George’s?”
Paul tilts her head to the side, taking in Joan’s features. After a moment she hums, “No, you’d be better in a neutral color. Maybe a soft pink?” she said, contemplating, “Ooh, or peach.”
Ringo nodded, “Peach would be nice, I think I have some if you want to use it.”
Joan nodded, going back to her tea. George came out of the bathroom about twenty minutes later. She looked at Joan, “Ready now?” she asked. Joan bit back a smile as she followed George into the bathroom, her lipstick fresh on her mouth. No gloss today, which would help Joan keep her focus better.
George instructed her to sit on the counter, which Joan obeyed, her legs kicking slightly as George rummaged through her makeup bag. “Do you want to learn how to do your own makeup, or do you just want me to do it?”
Joan smirked, “You know the answer to that.”
George nodded and went to stand in front of her, she took a generous amount of moisturizer on her fingers and dotted it across her forehead, cheeks, nose, and chin. When she started gently rubbing it in, Joan could feel her cheeks burn pink. This close, she didn’t need her glasses to see George clearly. She exaggerated her cupid’s bow with the beautiful color. And her full bottom lip seemed to be even poutier. She also noticed the soft shimmery purple eyeshadow and mascara. The purple made her brown eyes look larger, more like a doe. She hadn’t done her hair yet, but it was let out of the ponytail it was once in, and the soft waves of her bangs fell in her eyes.
George had moved onto blush by now, dusting a sweet rose color across her cheeks. “I think you’d look good with an eyeliner,” George notes, absentmindedly.
Joan blushed at the thought of George putting eyeliner on her, “Go for it, then.”
George grinned excitedly, her shoulders coming up quickly. She reached for her bag again and pulled out an eyeshadow palette, mascara, and the previously mentioned eyeliner.
“Eyes closed,” she said. She dusted a light taupe on her outer crease. Then a darker brown in the deeper parts of her eyes. She used a flesh pink for her inner eyes. “Okay, hold still,” George cupped Joan’s face with her hand to steady her, and Joan could not breathe. She opened her eyes and George tsked, “Eyes closed. ”
Joan glanced at her lips again before doing as told. She leaned in close enough that Joan could feel her breath hit her face gently, the breaths coming out steadily as she focused on the task at hand. When George pulled away after several excruciating minutes, Joan opened her eyes again.
“Look up,” she hums, and Joan obeys as told. George carefully puts mascara on her top and bottom lashes, “There, gorgeous,” She said proudly, putting the makeup back in her bag.
“Don’t I need lipstick?” Joan asked.
“‘M not sure if I have a color that fits you,” she said, rummaging through her bag again. When she looked back at Joan again, Joan leaned in and kissed her softly. George’s eyebrows raise in surprise, a blush creeping to her cheeks, “What was that for?” She asked once Joan pulled away.
“Did I get any on me?” she asked, turning to the mirror, a little bit of her lipstick had transferred to her, a bit of the satin sheen shining on her lips.
“You could use a bit more,” George said softly, a smile playing at her lips.
Joan grinned and kissed her again, hopefully getting the pink color Paul talked about.