You and Calum were going out to a nice dinner tonight after spending your day cooped up in his house, cuddling with each other and Duke on the sofa, watching TV and telling each other stories from when you were younger. You kept a small amount of clothes at his place so you could spend the night on whim and not worry about a lack of fresh underwear and jeans the next day.
He puts on one of your favorite button ups and a pair of black pants, his favorite boots on his feet. He picked out his favorite of your dressy tops you had at his place, a flowy lace tank top with an open back, which you pair with your comfiest skinny jeans and intend to wear a pair of platform sandals after you did your hair and makeup.
You sit down on the floor in front of his floor length mirror he has in his closet, plugging in your straightener and unzipping your makeup bag. Rubbing your primer into your skin, you realize you forgot to wet your makeup sponge.
“Babe!” You call out.
“Where are you?” Calum asks in response. He’s throwing a toy around the living room for Duke while he waits for you.
“Closet!”
Cal’s footsteps echo throughout the apartment, his face appearing in the mirror behind you a few moments later. “Yes?” He smiles at you, amused at the fact that you only have one eyebrow filled in.
“Will you dampen my beauty blender, pretty please?” You hold out the pink sponge over your head.
He takes the foam egg from your hand, eyeing it confusedly. “I’m sorry, what?”
You giggle, both at his expression and his actual question. “Turn on the water, let it run over it for a few seconds, turn the water off, and squeeze out as much water as you can.”
Calum nods and continues to stare at the tool in his fingertips as if it were the Sorcerer’s Stone. “Got it.” He nods to you before slowly retreating from the closet, holding the sponge out in front of him cautiously like a baby bird.
“Don’t rip it!” You add, realizing that he could squeeze it too hard when going to wring the excess water out of it, meaning you’d lose $20 because you asked your boyfriend to dampen your beauty blender.
While he’s doing his best to fulfill your request, you finish filling in your eyebrows, adding a coat of brow gel on top to keep things fluffy. Duke comes in to the closet, a taco-shaped chew toy hanging from his mouth. He drops it in your lap and looks up at you with his large brown eyes, cocking his head to the side, waiting for you to toss the taco across the room. You smile at the little furball, doing as he wants and tossing the taco underneath the clothes hanger that holds Cal’s pants and a few hoodies. Duke pokes his head back out from under the curtain of jeans and slacks, the taco back in his mouth.
“What’re you doin’, buddy?” You ask him as he continues to stare at you. “C’mere, let me have the taco.”
“Okay, I think I did it right,” Calum says as he reenters the closet, tearing your attention away from the sweet pup who stole your heart the first time you met him. He holds the sponge out to you, his eyes gauging your response as you squish it in your hands.
“You did it just right. Thanks, bub.”
He smiles with relief.
You pump out some foundation onto the back of your hand, get some on the larger end of your sponge, and then start to bounce the liquid into your skin. You apply your concealer and powder, grabbing the eyeshadow palette you have in the bag and putting a color into your crease. You don’t realize that Calum didn’t leave the closet again, but instead he’s staring at you in awe as you blend out your eyeshadow.
“You’re really good at that,” he says.
His voice makes you jump, realizing that you’re not alone like you thought. “Jesus fuck, Cal, scare the shit outta me, why don’t you?”
Calum giggles as he leans against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest and his rings flashing as the light hits the different facets on the jewelry. “Sorry, I just never realized how much effort went into that, and how good you are at it.”
You scoff, roll your eyes, and just continue doing your makeup. “Shut up, I’m not even that good.”
“You’re way better at it than anyone else I hang out with,” Calum insists. “Like, seriously, some of those girls wear black eyeshadow and there’s like a line between it and the rest of their face and it’s not cute...”
Though you may agree, and you’ve always wished you could teach those very girls about transition shades and blending brushes, you shake your head. “Makeup doesn’t have rules. If they like how it looks, that’s all that matters.”
He smiles at you, loving and admiring your nature to put a kind heart above all else. “Whatever, all I’m saying is, you’re really good at that.”
You continue to finish your makeup, topping off the eyeshadow with mascara and throwing on your favorite bronzer, blush, highlight, and lipgloss. Calum watches you with childlike wonder with each brush stroke. His expression, to be fair, is nearly identical to yours when you watch him on stage. The way he’s so content and plays the notes like it’s second nature, how he’s a totally different person when he sets foot on the stage or picks up his bass, and the way he so artistically sings each line of his songs.
“Will you teach me?” He asks, referring to the makeup.
You’re starting on your hair now, quickly ironing out the strands that weren’t too ‘un-straight’ to begin with. “Sure, love. That way next time you guys wear glitter on stage you’ll put it in the right places.”
