A/N: I haven't written in forever, this is kind a warm up?? I use Gamzee as a barbie doll apparently, my first instinct is to use him for dribbles. This isn't particularly good but its something, anyways. Here's slop
Gamzee finds joy in everything he does, never too fussed. Just happy to be there.
Specifically, one of his joys is watching you put on your makeup of the day.
Wouldn't be the first time he's sought you out, it's the only routine that you can rely on. Gamzee comes to look for you always. Be hell or shine.
You don't pay him any mind, assuming he's simply resting and looking for a soft refuge from Equius' incessant nagging for him to act his blood color. Or Karkat yelling at him for some small grievance he has.
Gamzee enjoys being in your space, the walls littered with personality, posters, figures, shelves lined with things that make you, you.
It feels like he's surrounded by you at all angles, and it makes him pleased in ways almost similar to sopor.
You don't allow most into your space, it's only his, his privilege.
The small greedy, possessive part of him purrs at it, wanting to take and take. But he forces it down, repressing it for later, there's no one around. No need to think about that.
Half lidded eyes trail towards you from his place on your bed.
The clown is much too large for it, fingers barely coming off of the floor by few inches, can feel his feet brush the floor.
Shoes long thrown off into a pile, joined by some horns he felt jabbing him through his pockets.
You're always a treat to watch when you're like this, music playing outloud as you meticulously apply different products to your skin, names long forgotten by him. He gets the gist though, your routine isn't too different than his greasepaint.
Gamzee watches you as blend and blend, lining your eyebrows and lids with black. So much thought and precision he guesses nobody else realizes. It's a stark contrast to how he does his, slapping and smearing it into a rough shape and hoping for the best.
You finally get to the eyeshadow portion, and you stare down at the palettes in consideration, brows a bit furrowed, hand rhythmically tapping the end of the shadow brush against the table.
"sO wHaT fUcKiN cOlOr ArE yOu GoInG wItH tOdAy SwEeT tHiNg?"
"Hmmm, I don't know honestly."
"mAy A gOoD bRoThEr HuMbLy ReQuEsT mAyBe SoMe PaInT lIkE mInE?"
"I don't think I can pull that off like you big guy, but that gives me an idea."
"rIgHt On, LeT's HeAr It."
"Gimme a bit, close your eyes."
Gamzee enjoys a surprise, so he let's his head fall back against your pillow, black curls obscuring his vision as he listens to you hum.
The sprits of a bottle tunes him in that you're finally done. Something used to fix your face in place or some shit, something humans do.
The creak of the chair, and then you're near him, peering at his face.
"Gamz, all done!"
Yellow eyes open to meet your own, and he feels something in his chest skip, and clench hard.
You went with different shades of purple, his color. A smile on your lips as you anxiously wait for his reaction.
It's only a miracle that you can't see how flushed his cheeks are underneath.
