Work Text:
Is your Lightning annoyed? Would you like us to assign a Fang to annoy your Lightning?
Honestly, Lightning is always annoyed. She’s so easily annoyed. But there is a kind of annoyance that’s traffic or a strand of hair that keeps falling loose.
And then there’s that damn dirty mug on the dining table. When Lightning enters the kitchen, she sees it instantly, and she sure knows that Fang knows that she hates it when she does that.
There are two ways to assess the situation.
One, make a scene. Lightning loves a good scene when she makes it. Not the other way around, and it’s not that Fang makes scenes often. They blow off steam, slam fists on the table, sometimes throw pillows, but what is good about it all is the sex after. Oh, this exactly is what Lightning calls making love.
Two, silently wash the mug, because Lightning knows that Fang probably overslept and was late to work, so she forgot. She always has to leave so early for her morning shift. And she will probably come back while Lightning is still gone and wash the mug.
Perhaps Lightning will silently wash the mug, because they’re adults and she can find another way to annoy Fang back. But when she picks it up, she sees the paper note underneath. It’s just an imprint of Fang’s lips with her dark lipstick on the paper.
So the whole thing is entirely to annoy her. Fang could’ve left the note in some other way, but she chose one that will surely get Lightning’s attention. Huh.
Lightning silently washes the mug.
--
Another day, they’re getting ready to go to work together, and Fang is putting on her lipstick. Lightning loves this lipstick, a lot. It’s dark enough to look good on Fang’s tan skin, then it’s like dark purple and resonates really well with the cold tone of Fang’s clothes.
But the worst thing about this lipstick is, while freshly applied, it stains like crazy and washes off only with oil-based makeup remover.
“You look exceptionally good today, dear,” Lightning says with a smile. She fixes the collar of Fang’s shirt and her hair, that don’t really need fixing, and Fang grins, then leans in and kisses her on the cheek.
It takes Lightning a second to go from delighted to horrified. When Fang leans away, she pauses. Stands frozen for a little moment. Then bursts out laughing. Her expression is holding such adoration that Lightning can’t even bring herself to be genuinely mad.
“Sorry, holy shit.”
Lightning pinches her side as a comeback, and Fang yelps, so Lightning grabs her shoulder and pulls her to the bathroom for taking responsibility.
“Repent,” Lightning says.
And Fang (this is not even the first time this happens!) dutifully takes the cotton pads and makeup remover and starts fixing the mess. She’s so pretty when concentrated, especially so close, but Lightning knows not to kiss her for the very same reason.
Fuck it, actually.
Lightning grabs Fang by the chin and pulls her in until their lips collide, the tart taste of the lipstick is now very much on Lightning’s teeth. But Fang only deepens the kiss, holding Lightning’s face in her hands, and then starts peppering kisses all over Lightning’s face, staining not only her mouth, but eyes and forehead until Lightning swats her off.
“You bitch,” she scolds with a beam, “Now I have to redo my makeup.”
“Oh! Will you let me do it?”
The way they do makeup is very different, but Fang is very good at it.
“Okay, you better.”
On Lightning’s pale face, smokey eyes looks striking.
--
At work, one of her colleagues gapes at her.
“Wow, did your wife do your makeup today? You never wear blush or smokey eyes.”
Lightning smirks at the thought that Fang made her look hers. She didn’t just leave a smile on her face with all the kissing, but also her vision of how Lightning’s makeup looks best in her eyes.
“Yeah. I actually like it better.”
“You look very good.”
She always looks very good lately. Or feels so, that is.