Theresa "Tess" Servopoulos (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dog_eat_dog) wrote2013-10-05 03:48 pm
dog_eat_dog) wrote2013-10-05 03:48 pm
Entry tags:
FICLET 017
"You're wearing make-up these days," Joel remarks.
Tess knows he doesn't mean much by it, but it bothers her a twinge anyway. She lowers her mascara wand to look at him through the mirror, where he's reclined in bed with a book. He's clad in only jeans, hair still wet from his shower.
"Yeah?" she replies. What of it?
Joel shrugs.
"It looks nice," he replies.
Tess lets silence hang for a moment as she carefully applies mascara to her lashes. She blinks too fast and a couple little black daubs end up on her skin where the mascara hadn't dried fast enough.
"Do you like me better this way?" she asks. It's strange to feel so self conscious about it, but she does.
"It's just different," he says. "I don't care either way, Tess."
Tess caps the mascara and sets it down. She steps back a tiny bit, just to scrutinize herself –– christ, even a little bit of mascara, her brows cleaned up, some cover-up and chap-stick feels like it's been caked on, and a dog's age ago this would have been considered basically nothing.
"I just feel fucked up here," she says. A touch of frustration works its way in, under the skin and out through her voice. "Like, I know you don't give a shit, and I've seen the way Ellie looks at women here, like they're not even real, but I just feel like a slob next to them."
Tess picks at her make-up bag. She's wished up everything she had back as a teenager, all that overpriced Sephora shit she used to blow all her spending money on, but now she doesn't know how to work it. Maybe there's something she can use to look more natural. (Whatever that means anymore.)
"Tess," Joel says. "If anyone even looks at you funny, you ignore 'em." He's right behind her, suddenly, and he puts a hand to her lower back, right above her panties. "You look fine, Freckles."
Tess makes a face at him through the mirror, which he ignores in favour of pressing a kiss to the side of her neck. That gets an involuntary laugh out of her, needlessly ticklish, and she reaches to swat at him.
"You can't even see my freckles with this shit on," she says.
Joel gives a low hum at the back of his throat, and he reaches for her. Tess turns in his arms with a sigh, but when he cups her cheek with a hand she feels her annoyance fade a bit.
"I'm serious," he says. Tess gives him an unimpressed look, and he presses on: "Yeah, it's cute when you go the extra mile to look nice, but I know what you look like, and I know you don't give a shit what everyone else thinks."
He reaches with a thumb to scrub at the spot where her beauty mark is hidden by a daub of concealer, and he adds: "And for the record, I like your freckles. I love 'em."
Tess pokes him in the ribs, gently, but she looks up at him with a kittenish look. The corner of Joel's mouth turns up, and the hand on her hip squeezes gently. It is about what everyone else thinks, really, but what can Tess argue? When has she ever begged for approval? Why the fuck does she even care?
"Yeah?" she says, staying in his arms as she reaches for a tube of lipstick. She puts it on blind, loosely.
"Yeah," he replies, as she rubs her lips together.
"Knew it," she smirks, and then lifts her chin to press a hard kiss to his lips.
Tess knows he doesn't mean much by it, but it bothers her a twinge anyway. She lowers her mascara wand to look at him through the mirror, where he's reclined in bed with a book. He's clad in only jeans, hair still wet from his shower.
"Yeah?" she replies. What of it?
Joel shrugs.
"It looks nice," he replies.
Tess lets silence hang for a moment as she carefully applies mascara to her lashes. She blinks too fast and a couple little black daubs end up on her skin where the mascara hadn't dried fast enough.
"Do you like me better this way?" she asks. It's strange to feel so self conscious about it, but she does.
"It's just different," he says. "I don't care either way, Tess."
Tess caps the mascara and sets it down. She steps back a tiny bit, just to scrutinize herself –– christ, even a little bit of mascara, her brows cleaned up, some cover-up and chap-stick feels like it's been caked on, and a dog's age ago this would have been considered basically nothing.
"I just feel fucked up here," she says. A touch of frustration works its way in, under the skin and out through her voice. "Like, I know you don't give a shit, and I've seen the way Ellie looks at women here, like they're not even real, but I just feel like a slob next to them."
Tess picks at her make-up bag. She's wished up everything she had back as a teenager, all that overpriced Sephora shit she used to blow all her spending money on, but now she doesn't know how to work it. Maybe there's something she can use to look more natural. (Whatever that means anymore.)
"Tess," Joel says. "If anyone even looks at you funny, you ignore 'em." He's right behind her, suddenly, and he puts a hand to her lower back, right above her panties. "You look fine, Freckles."
Tess makes a face at him through the mirror, which he ignores in favour of pressing a kiss to the side of her neck. That gets an involuntary laugh out of her, needlessly ticklish, and she reaches to swat at him.
"You can't even see my freckles with this shit on," she says.
Joel gives a low hum at the back of his throat, and he reaches for her. Tess turns in his arms with a sigh, but when he cups her cheek with a hand she feels her annoyance fade a bit.
"I'm serious," he says. Tess gives him an unimpressed look, and he presses on: "Yeah, it's cute when you go the extra mile to look nice, but I know what you look like, and I know you don't give a shit what everyone else thinks."
He reaches with a thumb to scrub at the spot where her beauty mark is hidden by a daub of concealer, and he adds: "And for the record, I like your freckles. I love 'em."
Tess pokes him in the ribs, gently, but she looks up at him with a kittenish look. The corner of Joel's mouth turns up, and the hand on her hip squeezes gently. It is about what everyone else thinks, really, but what can Tess argue? When has she ever begged for approval? Why the fuck does she even care?
"Yeah?" she says, staying in his arms as she reaches for a tube of lipstick. She puts it on blind, loosely.
"Yeah," he replies, as she rubs her lips together.
"Knew it," she smirks, and then lifts her chin to press a hard kiss to his lips.