This is not what I was going to do, but Felps was playing drum games last night and two people were sharing screenshots of Felps in make-up so...
That being said, small-town band AU where Felps is part of a band (idk who else) that plays in local bars and clubs, and Pac is his "makeup artist" (read: mechanic boyfriend with a love of body glitter and sexy eyeliner)
They sit in the bathrooms around the back of the club. Here is cleaner than average, smelling more like chemicals than piss, though Pac had sprayed down and cleaned the counter around the sinks. He sits up on the counter, make-up bag in his lap, while Felps sits in a discount store camping chair and allows him to work.
He spins a drumstick around his fingers, but otherwise keeps his eyes shut and allows his boyfriend to work. It isn't really needed - the rest of the band wear something styled but just slap on some hairspray and simple makeup - but Felps likes it. Pac likes it, too, and so whenever there is time they always get ready the same.
The brush on Felps' cheek is pulled away, and he can feel how Pac moves back as well.
"Okay... Okay!" Pac passes judgement on his own work. "Just keep your eyes shut a minute. I've still got to do them."
"You're sure you don't want me to open them?"
"No!"
There's the dab of a clean-seeming sponge against his nose; Felps laughs as he waits for the last little bit.
"And now."
He does his best to stay very still, first as eye shadow is gently pressed into place, and then the eyeliner brush takes to his skin. Using touch alone Felps follows the lines of the brush, as it thickens and thins and twists around. There are a couple of little dabs to the side, and then the other eye.
Pac's fingers brush slightly over his cheek. Felps resists the urge to try and kiss at them.
Eyeliner, then mascara, and then a few dabs of something, and then...
"You can look now!"
Felps looks first to Pac, shimmering dust all over the old cooking apron he uses to protect his shirt. It did not seem to help this time, with smears of orange on his sleeves.
"Very pretty!" he tells Pac.
Pac laughs too, "I meant your makeup!"
As if Felps did not already know that. Still, he grins, and looks to the decaying glass. The mirror has not been cleaned in a while, but still...
Careful not to unbalance the chair, Felps leans forwards. He tilts from side to side, watching how the light catches on the glitter dappled on his cheeks. The eye-shadow - pink and orange, shaded like a sunset - also catches like it shines, while the eye liner makes pretty patterns across his face.
The lines wobble and the eye-shadow is slightly smeared, and there is definitely too much glitter, some of it even getting into his hair.
"It's perfect," Felps tells Pac, the flaws only making it more so.
The people at the club will not care, so long as the music is good enough. The band will not care, thinking Felps a little dramatic for going to all this effort for barely a paycheck. The manager, the cleaners... None of them care either.
Felps, though? He cares. And so does Pac.
If it is orange though...
He takes out a pencil case, and opens it up. Inside are many of his earrings and spacers. The purple he removes, swapping it out for a hoop rather than attempt to colour-match under burnt-out fluorescent lights.
"You should probably get going, then."
Pac offers him his other drumstick, a blue ribbon tied around the end to match the other in pink.
"I'll see you after?" Felps asks.
"Probably," Pac yawns into his hand. "I'll be out in the car, though. This place is... sticky."
He knows exactly what he means.
Still, music is music.
With fresh makeup Felps dares not kiss Pac, but he still salutes him as he carefully gets up. Pac salutes back with a laugh, and sets about putting his tools away.
"Good luck!"
Felps doesn't need the wishes - the sparkles on his face are luck enough for him.
