Work Text:
Rimbaud rarely had downtime to himself. After all, working for the french government was a high tight rope walk on an active live wire. Every mission was a death sentence if he and his partner were any less competent than they are now.
But between stealing government secrets and carefully neutralizing foes, he enjoys a bit of a break, giving them a taste of normalcy before being thrown to the next suicide mission.
He dropped the bag of his latest purchase from the department store onto the coffee table in the living room, kicking off his cozy winter boots (Ah. Chilly.) as he made himself comfortable on the weathered couch.
“You're back?” His partner's voice sounded from the small kitchen, before his head peaked out from the adjacent wall. “What did you get?”
“A quick trip to the department store,” Rimbaud explained, reaching into the bag to produce his purchases. “Are the eclairs done?”
Verlaine, who did not mention anything about spending time to make eclairs, shook his head as he settled beside him. Arthur was a highly intelligent spy with incredible inference and extrapolation skills, so it was no surprise he was able to deduce that much with ease.
“Here! I know you're running out of your cologne, so I got this,” Rimbaud tossed him the glass bottle of eau de cologne something.
“And these,” he took out a comically large number of lipsticks, "are my babies.”
Verlaine blinked. There were at least 3 dozen different lipstick shades, though they were all from the same producer— he squinted and, oh. Dior. His partner had expensive taste.
“Just because most of our expenses are funded doesn't mean you should blow it all on… Makeup…” He trailed off, slightly (word), which just earned a chuckle from Rimbaud.
“It's precisely because our lives are mostly funded that we rarely spend our actual paycheck.” He waved his hand, unconcerned. “Besides, these were all on sale.”
(The blonde was already in the process of helping him unwrap the packaging, still skeptical. “Because it's expired?”
“Very funny.”)
After Verlaine had carefully lined up the purchases according to the shade’s corresponding number.
“You're not going to ask me why I bought so much?”
“I assumed you either had no goal when walking into the department store and bought the first thing on sale,” Verlaine murmured, watching Rimbaud's expression. “Or you have a very detailed plan on how to torture me.”
“Torture? That's a strong word.” Rimbaud said with faux sadness, also pulling out the little compact mirror he had in his purse. He picked up a lipstick and popped it open, revealing a very saturated maroon colour, applying it carefully on his lips.
Verlaine looked away, decidedly trying not to stare at his partner's lips. “If you're not planning to torture me, what's this?”
“Experimentation,” he stated with a sly little smile, turning the blonde's face towards him again. And before Verlaine could react, Rimbaud leaned in for a kiss. It was a firm kiss, not forceful, but certainly one that left a mark. As well as leaving Verlaine a little dizzy, of course.
The gravity ability user blinked, a little dazed as Rimbaud pulled back with an imperceptible giggle. “Arthur,” he said, obviously trying not to stare at his partner's smudged lipstick which was very pretty, “what was that?”
Rimbaud carefully wiped away the remaining stain from his mouth, slightly more jovial thabn before. “Experimentation, like I said. I'm going to try on as many colors as possible to find out what shade looks best on you when we kiss.”
“... You're a monster.” Verlaine grumbled, pulling his partner closer and resting his head lightly on Rimbaud's shoulder. “Is this your ridiculous plan to get back at me because I made a mango filled dessert last week even though you wanted apples?”
“Of course not, that was already settled when I made you sleep on the couch,” Rimbaud answered without missing a beat. “This is because I was bored.”
He picked up the second color in the set, applying it onto his lips. “Chin up, dear. We have 35 colours left to try.”