Quick before I leave

[maculategiraffe]

Written quite specifically to wickhouse2005's request, off the general talk of makeup in the last story, here: How about Lisa gifting Bran with some makeup, Jer helping Bran apply it and then Holden's reaction. I'll send virtual sand dollars and star fish your way for this story. ^.^

I never turn down virtual starfish. Takes place (as does so much!) between "Bran" and "Jesse."












"Master, may I go to bed?"

Holden glanced up from his desk to Bran, and then at the clock. "Already?"

"If it please you," said Bran, as Holden examined him minutely for signs of illness, overtiring, or something on his mind. Bran looked fine, though. Happy, even.

"You may," he said. "I'll be up later to join you."

"Yes, master," said Bran, with the sudden joyful smile that always transfigured him at the news-- or the reminder-- that Holden was planning to spend time with him. It couldn't be healthy for Holden to be worshipped like this. At least there were the four others to help him keep his perspective.

"I'll head up too, if you don't mind, master," said Jer, and Holden assented, unsurprised; Jer, appreciative of the privacy of his own room, often retired early.

Holden found it hard to keep his mind on his paperwork when he was sharply, deliciously aware that Bran would be waiting for him in bed, so it was less than an hour later that he said good night to Alix, Yves, and Greta, and hurried up the stairs to Bran's room.

Bran was lying in bed, his eyes closed, the small lamp by his bed shedding a soft, oblique light on his face, and there was something strange about his eyes, which opened as Holden approached the bed. Had the boy been crying, or-- no, it wasn't that. But there was something--

"Hi, sweetheart," he said, and sat down on the edge of the bed. Bran smiled shyly at him as Holden took in what was wrong with his eyes: they were painted. Heavily outlined, the lids tinted with violet, the fair, dusty lashes darkened and thickened with mascara around the luminescent gray that grew troubled under Holden's incredulous stare.

Holden reached out and touched Bran's cheek, making sure his voice was gentle when he asked, "What's with the makeup, kiddo?"

"Lady Lisa gave it to me, master," said Bran, rather anxiously. Holden could see now that his lips were painted, too, a soft matte pink shade. It wasn't garish; in fact, it was a skillful and tasteful makeup job. But it made Holden angry, and he wasn't even sure why. "She-- sometimes she likes me to wear it, when we're-- together."

"So she gave you some to keep?" Holden asked, keeping his tone light, and still stroking Bran's cheek. "When was this?"

"Last time she and Miss Valor were here, master," said Bran, a little more relaxed now. "She used to just bring it and put it on me and then take it away again, but last time she said-- well, she said I could keep it."

"And who put it on you this time?" Holden asked curiously, because if Bran had done it himself, he'd had far more practice than Holden had been remotely aware of.

"Jer," said Bran.

Holden nodded. "You asked him to help you?"

"I thought you might like it, master." Bran bit his lower lip, chewing off some of the lipstick so that his own pale mouth showed through underneath. "You don't, do you? I'm sorry. I should have realized-- when you'd never given me any--"

Holden leaned down and tenderly kissed Bran's forehead; somehow he couldn't quite bring himself to press his lips to the made-up mouth.

"It's okay, sweetheart," he said. "You didn't do anything wrong. I'm just not a big fan of makeup. What did Jer say when you asked him to do it?"

"He said you'd never been much for wearing it, but you might like it on me," said Bran, his eyes downcast. "He said-- he thought I looked good, when he was finished."

"Well, of course you look good," said Holden, grinning. "He didn't put a bag over your head or anything."

He watched thoughtfully as Bran's cheeks acquired a light flush, matching the pink of the lipstick. Bran was still beautiful, of course, and the makeup wasn't making him less beautiful, but he looked strangely arch and coquettish, and when he smiled, Bran's own sweet smile, Holden couldn't figure out exactly what he found so unnerving about the expertly painted curve of the lips.

"It's just different," he added, and brushed a fingertip across one violet eyelid, trying to understand what there was to attract Lisa and Jer in the artificial colors and strange bold outlines, the coated and lengthened eyelashes that no longer caught the light. "What do you think of it?"

"I-- don't know." Bran seemed ill at ease. "Her ladyship likes it. I just thought you might."

"Have you ever worn it before?" Holden asked, and Bran shook his head. "But you don't mind wearing it for Lisa?"

"No, master, it doesn't bother me," said Bran. "But I don't want to wear it if it doesn't please you. Please, I'll just go scrub it off."

He was starting to sound urgent, and Holden reached out and gathered him up, kissing him on his warm, curly hair. At least Lisa hadn't brought over any wigs.

"You don't scrub off eye makeup, sweetheart," he said. "Didn't Lisa show you how to take it off?"

Bran shook his head, puzzled. "I've just been scrubbing with soap, master. Is that wrong?"

"Doesn't it hurt?" Holden asked. "Come with me."

In the bathroom, he poured oil on a soft, clean cloth.

"Close your eyes," he directed, and when Bran obeyed, he wiped carefully over one eyelid, leaving behind a smear of purple and brown, and then wiped again with a dry cloth, removing the last traces, before he started on the other eye. He wetted the cloth with warm water and wiped the oil away, gently and thoroughly, and then the lipstick.

"There," he said, and Bran's eyes blinked open, slightly unfocused, mercifully naked. "Now I can see you better."

Bran laughed. "Can you, master?"

"I can," said Holden, leaning in to snatch a kiss from Bran's smiling lips, now flushed with a color all their own. "Come back to bed, darling."