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Cassandra Cain hated makeup, and she knew that.
It wasn’t contempt. She never thought of it as shallow or frivolous. She respected the people who wore it, the patience it took, the skill, the history. Makeup was an art form that rarely got the credit it deserved.
It just wasn’t for her.
Anything on her face set her nerves on edge. The weight, the texture, the way it demanded awareness. It dragged memories up from places she kept locked for a reason. Sensory overload hit fast and hard, made her skin crawl, made her chest tighten until screaming felt like a reasonable response.
She barely tolerated sunscreen and face creams, and only because Bruce and Alfred insisted. She thanked the universe daily for Gotham’s eternal gloom. No sun meant fewer excuses to smear things on her skin.
So makeup had never been an option.
Which begged the obvious question.
Why was she here?
Cass sat stiffly in a dressing room chair, hands folded in her lap, eyes tracking the room out of habit. Stephanie darted around in front of her, laying out brushes, palettes, wipes, gloves. Too many objects. Too many colors. Too many unfamiliar shapes.
Steph was glowing. Thriving. This was her element.
“You ready?” Steph asked, already halfway through snapping on gloves.
Cass hesitated. She’d agreed too fast. Steph had asked with that hopeful, crooked grin, like it was nothing, like Cass wasn’t about to volunteer for her personal nightmare.
She nodded anyway.
Because Steph asked.
And Cass was, tragically, extremely weak to Stephanie Brown’s whims.
Cass knew, intellectually, that this was how she died. Not by assassin or explosion or some dramatic, Bat branded tragedy. But by saying yes to Stephanie Brown with the same doomed calm of someone signing a waiver they did not read.
Steph caught the tension immediately. Of course she did. She paused, her movements gentling. “Hey. We can stop anytime. You say the word and we stop.”
Cass nodded again, firmer this time. Boundaries mattered. Being seen mattered. “I’m okay.”
Steph hummed softly and continued. She didn’t ask again, trusting that Cass meant it, that if it became too much she would say so.
Cass focused on Steph’s gloved hands, even as her instincts screamed for escape, mapping out at least twenty possible routes without her meaning to. Old habits were hard to kill. Steph poured a bit of clear liquid onto her palms and gently patted it onto Cass’s face.
It stung, just slightly, sharp enough to make Cass flinch before she could stop herself.
Steph noticed instantly but didn’t pull away, only slowed. “This is micellar water.” She explained quietly. “It cleans and hydrates before makeup. I know it stings a bit, but please bear with me, Cassie.”
Cass exhaled and stayed still.
Then came the real thing.
Steph opened a small tin and brushed Cass’s brows back with careful strokes. Cass felt the faint thickness, something between gel and glue, enough to register without being heavy. Not pleasant, but manageable. She catalogued the sensation and set it aside.
A pencil followed, soft pressure, precise. Cass kept her eyes unfocused, breathing steady. When Steph dabbed a bit of moisturizer beneath her brows, the cold, wet touch made her shiver despite herself.
Steph hummed. “Good?”
“Yeah…” Cass said, quiet but honest.
Steph trusted that answer. She always did. She reached for concealer next, lifting another brush and sweeping it lightly beneath Cass’s eyebrows, blending, refining, careful not to linger longer than necessary.
Cass stayed still.
Steph made a small face, like she was arguing with herself, then carefully moisturized the rest of Cass’s face. The cream was thicker here, tacky in a way Cass didn’t like. She hummed softly, grounding herself in the sensation of Steph’s fingers instead. Warm. Gentle. Intentional.
Steph stopped.
Just for a second, but Cass felt it immediately. The hesitation. The doubt.
“It’s okay, Steph,” Cass said quietly, meeting her eyes. A reassurance, steady and real.
Steph paused, then nodded to herself. She reached for two serums, explaining nothing but Cass preferred it like that, and applied them with practiced care. Slow. Controlled. Respectful of the space Cass needed.
Cass focused on Steph. Her hands. Her breathing. The care in every movement. The fact that she was choosing to trust Cass’s limits.
“Cass.” Steph said softly, pausing. “This is the primer, foundation, and concealer. I know you’re going to hate it.” A beat. “Tell me to stop and we leave it like this.”
Cass shook her head.
That was all Steph needed.
The primer went on first. Cass hated it immediately. The drag. The way it clung. When Steph reached for the foundation, Cass was seconds from tapping out, muscles coiling, breath tightening.
But Steph was close. Close enough that Cass caught the faint scent of vanilla, warm and familiar, grounding in a way nothing else was. Steph’s presence outweighed the sensation.
Cass ignored the brush. Then the sponge. Ignored the weight on her skin, the smell of makeup, the way her body protested.
Steph was here.
And that was what Cass held onto.
Steph sighed softly. “Cassie… next is blush and contour. After that it’s powders. Setting powder, bronzer, then blush again.”
Cass frowned. “Why is blush twice?”
“Because…” Steph said immediately, then paused. “Okay, personally it defines better and-” She drifted into a ramble, words tumbling over each other, half-explanations and makeup logic Cass didn’t need to understand.
That was exactly what Cass needed.
She let the words wash over her as Steph worked. Different brushes. Soft taps. Light sweeps. Powders settling where creams had been. Cass didn’t track the sensations anymore, not individually.
Steph’s voice cut through it all, steady and familiar, a lighthouse in a storm Cass had learned how to survive.
Steph hummed. “Just two things and we’re almost done!”
Cass sighed, relief loosening something in her chest.
The liquid eyeliner felt strange but not evil. The setting spray was… tolerable. Barely. But honestly, none of it had been good. Just survivable.
Which felt like a victory.
Cass started to stand, already planning the sweet relief of washing everything off, when Steph stopped her, hands gentle as she guided Cass back down. Lipstick sat uncapped in her hand.
“Sorry.” Steph murmured. “Almost forgot.”
She leaned in, stupidly close.
Cass’s breath hitched, and for the first time all evening it had nothing to do with overstimulation. Steph’s eyes were locked on her, focused in a way that made Cass uncomfortably aware of herself. She could see her own reflection in them.
That, somehow, made her nervous.
Cass liked being the only thing Steph saw.
Her gaze drifted, traitorous, to Steph’s lips. Soft. A little chapped. Fine. More than fine.
When Cass looked back up, Steph had caught her staring.
They froze. Just for a second.
Cass leaned in and kissed her.
Steph laughed against her mouth, light and breathless. “Well…” She said, pulling back. “That’s one way to get rid of excess lipstick.”
Cass met her eyes, utterly serious. “Steph, I love you with my entire heart and soul. But I am never doing this again.”
Steph burst out laughing. Cass followed, tension finally breaking.
There were a few pictures taken. Evidence, apparently.
Then Cass finally was able to wash her face.
The things she would do for Stephanie Brown.