Work Text:
'ryan dont come over you know my parents dont like you'
'...ryan seriously'
'RYAAAAAAANN'
Ryan ignored his phone going off as he walked to his friend's house, makeup bag in hand. Brendon had joked with Ryan about Ryan's makeup, saying he wanted Ryan to do his someday. Well, that someday was today.
Brendon's family didn't like Ryan. He was too 'out there' for them. Ryan thought they were afraid he'd make their son gay or something, even though Brendon does that all by himself.
Ryan hopped up the front porch steps, ringing the doorbell. Brendon lived in a boring, plain house. Brendon lived with boring, plain people. Ryan lived with his father who only cared about Ryan when he was sober, which wasn't often. Ryan loved his father, but he also hated his father. It was a rough relationship.
The door opened, Brendon looking irritated. "Dude," He said, frowning. "I told you not to come over-"
Ryan smiled. "Excuse me sir, do you have time to talk about our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ?" He interrupted jokingly, letting himself in. "Where's your family?" He asked. Brendon's house was oddly empty.
Brendon shut the door. "Everybody's at church. I said I was sick." He answered, looking up at Ryan.
Ryan has a sweet face, like he was eternally thirteen or something. He was actually seventeen now, and it showed in his awkward lankiness. "Ooh, then why'd you not want me over?" He asked, eyes meeting Brendon's. "Don't wanna be my friend anymore?"
Brendon shoved his hands into his pockets, bouncing on his heels. "No, that's not it. It's because if they come home and you're here, I'm getting killed."
Ryan rolled his eyes. "Oh well. You know, after being friends with you for four years, you think they'd like me by now."
Brendon's parents weren't mean to Ryan. Just sort of passive-aggressive. And every time he left, Brendon had to hear his parents talk shit about Ryan, about how weird he was, about how he was influencing Brendon too much. But Ryan had never been a bad friend, persay, so they hadn't banned Brendon from seeing him or anything. Not yet, at least.
Brendon thought Ryan was really cute. He had big brown doe eyes and pretty pink lips and boyish brunet hair. Brendon liked when Ryan wore makeup, too. It made him look older and his eyes seemed more intense. Ryan had none on today. He'd wanted to tell Ryan for awhile now, tell him how pretty he was and how much Brendon wanted to kiss him and anything else Ryan would let him do.
Ryan held up his makeup bag. "Today's the day, m'love." He grinned, gauging Brendon's reaction.
It wasn't entirely positive. "I can't, not today. Family's coming home in like an hour." He reminded Ryan, putting his hands on his hips.
Ryan made a face. "Fuck, Bren. We can take it off. I'm not gonna do anything crazy, okay? Eyeshadow, eyeliner, maybe blush for those pale cheeks of yours. Wouldn't want you too washed out..." Ryan's eyes were searching Brendon's face, his lower lip in between his teeth. "All easy to take off."
Brendon knew he'd give in. Ryan could tell him to jump off a bridge and he probably would. He wished he had that kind of control over Ryan. "Okay," Brendon sighed.
Ryan's face lit up. "I'm so excited. I think I'll do your eyes in gold, with black eyeliner." He nodded, putting his thumb on Brendon's chin, turning his face this way and that. "Definitely blush. Let's go to the kitchen, better lighting."
Brendon sat on the counter at Ryan's request, Ryan standing between Brendon's legs. He spread his makeup palettes and brushes and tubes all over the space next to Brendon. He selected a metallic eyeshadow palette and a small brush. "Shut your eyes," He instructed, and Brendon did it, because he sort of trusted Ryan with this stuff.
"Stop- ugh, Brendon. Don't flinch. Don't squinch your eye. Sit still. Raise your eyebrows-" Ryan was doing the best he could, but Brendon wasn't the greatest at this whole thing.
The eyeshadow felt heavy and unnatural on Brendon's lids. He wasn't sure how Ryan wore this stuff all the time. "Okay, eyes open. I'm only gonna do liner on your lower lid because you're not very good at this." Ryan said, but it had a kind tone.
"I'm sorry," Brendon apologised, watching Ryan as he picked up a literal pencil up. "Uh, is that eyeliner?"
"Mm," Ryan nodded, uncapping it. He noticed Brendon's apprehension, and smiled. "Relax, it doesn't hurt. I know how to do it really well, okay?"
Brendon wanted to protest, but it was too late. Ryan's hands were all over Brendon's face, drawing far too close to his eyes. Ryan's fingers were cold but soft, except for his fingertips. He managed both eyes sufficiently, moving onto blush. It was far softer than the eyeliner, and Brendon didn't have to have his eyes shut.
Ryan used his ring finger to wipe away excess powder beow Brendon's eyes, then stepped back to admire his work, hands on his hips. Brendon looked just like himself, just with makeup on. "Not bad," He smiled.
"I don't look as good as you, I'm sure." Brendon said before he could even stop the flow of words.
Luckily, Ryan just laughed. "Yeah, you're right. Wanna see it?" He asked, holding his hands out.
Brendon took them, allowing Ryan to pull him off the counter. "We'll just go to the bathroom, in case I need to take it off." He suggested.
Ryan nodded, walking through Brendon's familiar house, still holding one of his hands. Once in the bathroom, Brendon flipped the light on and he looked in the mirror. "Huh," He said, turning his face. "It's more sparkly than I thought it'd be." It wasn't bad, though. Brendon kinda liked it.
Ryan was beaming, his entire face lighting up. "Yeah, I thought it suited you. Do you like it?"
"I do, actually. Thanks." Brendon turned to face Ryan, looking up slightly.
Ryan's eyes dropped, but he still smiled. "I should go home." He said. If Brendon didn't know better, he would've thought Ryan was actually blushing.
Brendon nodded. "Okay, uh, I'll text you later. Thanks, man." He said, pulling Ryan into a hug. His arms were around Ryan's waist, and he became acutely aware of how small Ryan really was. Ryan hugged back tightly, but was first to step away.
"See you soon, Bren." Ryan said, going back to the kitchen to gather his things.
Brendon stayed still in the bathroom. He could hear Ryan shuffling around the kitchen. He could do it, finally tell Ryan how he felt...
The front door slammed.
Maybe next time.