Work Text:
The clock ticked by slowly throughout the afternoon, to Ben’s impatience. Ricky was scheduled to come over later that day, and he couldn’t keep his mind off of it.
Ben sat in his desk chair, occasionally swiveling around the room, bored yet full of anticipation. He didn't know how his nerves could be on fire with his brain being a wasteland of underwhelmingness at the same time. He wasn’t anxious in a bad way, but an excited smile would appear on his face every time he thought he heard the sound of a notification from his phone or a knock on the window—only to be met with disappointment.
Ricky never had to use the window, as Ben’s parents had grown quite used to having him around, and his mother didn’t think of him as some troublemaker at that point (sometimes his dad was more excited than Ben was about Ricky’s visits). Yet the window was always familiar to him, so that was where he was always expected. Where he had first made himself comfortable in their home, Ben’s bedroom.
The first time he had been over, Ben was reluctantly nice to him, which even confused himself. He didn’t consider them to be friends, but closer to that than enemies, and close enough to feel bad when Ricky mentioned through a hushed tone that he had been kicked out. He hardly talked about his home life even now, but Ben knew enough to not push it. The bruises on Ricky’s face from when Ben first found him said enough.
He let people sleep over once in a lifetime, with only Stuart being the possible candidate, and even then, they didn’t typically sleep in the same bed. Somehow, Ricky had gotten himself comfortable almost immediately, and by the second week of Ben’s enabling, he was sleeping there pantsless in Minecraft boxers nearly more than twice a week. Ben told himself it would only be a few times over and over again, that he was just being nice, that Ricky wouldn’t be able to do anything to win him over, and there would be no chance of him catching feelings in the ordeal.
Ben sighed to himself, spinning to see the drawings and photographs of his ‘shitbird’ up on the wall; an effortless reminder of what he was currently missing. His room had practically turned into a Ricky shrine over the past few months. Printed pictures from the ones Emily insisted on taking because the area had good lighting, random notes Ricky had passed him in class—and a special corner of his desk was a dedicated home for every trinket Ricky had either won or stolen for him.
He sighed in irritation, dragging his hands dramatically down his face like he could wish Ricky’s presence into the space with his mind.
The sudden sound of Donna’s yell came through the wall.
“Hey, Ben? Could you come here for a sec?” She called, without any clear urgency. He perked up from his mindless spinning, grabbing onto the edge of his desk to halt. Ricky wouldn’t be there for another few minutes, maybe even longer. Whatever Donna wanted wouldn’t take long.
He lingered in the open doorway of Donna’s excessively decorated bedroom, with posters of a variety of bands or TV shows covering almost all of the wall space. Ben’s eyes always darted over to the haunted looking ‘Labubu’—if that's even what it was—that sat in the corner of the room amongst other stuffed animals, stowed away. Donna had assumed it was cursed when she first got it.
“What’d you need?” He asked, eyeing her as she sat in the middle of the floor. An open bag of makeup was in front of her, with several piles of tubes and palettes spread out.
“So, I’m finally cleaning my room since Mom is sick of me losing my things,” she explained, poking through the pile, “I was thinking about giving some of this to Lola or Skeeter—“
“Can I have some of it?” Ben interrupted, the words sputtering out before he really thought about the question. His mouth had moved faster than his brain as soon as the idea struck.
Donna’s gaze slowly turned to him, her eyebrows knitting together. “I mean, sure, but why?” She questioned, her tone lacking judgment but holding curiosity.
“No, no— not for me. Ricky’s gonna be coming over in a little, and I feel like he might want some, or I could… do his makeup. For him.” What the fuck am I talking about?
“I don’t think you’re the most experienced person to be doing that, but alright.” Donna scoffed playfully, sorting through some of the makeup to find what she would think was ideal for him to use. Ben joined her on the floor, eyes scanning the various products.
“I can learn,” he muttered. Besides, he had watched Donna do hers in the kitchen enough to get the gist of it.
He didn’t even know where the idea of doing Ricky’s makeup came from, but it was intriguing nonetheless. Sure, Ben had zero experience, and would probably make him look like a fool, but it would’ve been fun to try. “Don’t use anything waterproof…” Donna muttered. Ben rolled his eyes in ignorant fashion.
He could totally get the hang of it.
After what only took a minute or two of convincing once he came through the window, Ricky had allowed Ben to attempt to do his makeup. He had already come over with eyeliner on, but obliged to take it off for Ben’s sake. Now, they sat across from each other on Ben’s bedspread, with a tube of lipstick, a palette of dark eyeshadow, an eyeliner pencil beside them, and a brush being held steady by Ben.
As it turned out, Donna had been right. Ben wasn’t at all experienced in the art of makeup—but he had the smallest bit of skill with his hands. Being an artist came in handy. His expression was intent with focus, one hand held Ricky’s jaw firmly, the other carefully applying eyeshadow to his left side. It had only been five minutes, and Ben was sure it’d end up in some kind of disaster, yet somehow things were going smoothly so far. He had already applied the cool-toned red lipstick with perfect precision, even if it didn’t suit Ricky exactly. Ben was comfortably familiar with the strawberry-flavored lipgloss that he stole from Bath & Body Works once.
Ricky gazed at him, with his regular, loving stare, and an odd quietness. Ben couldn’t tell if he was only imagining the tension, but the faintest feel of Ricky’s breath caused the slight nervousness in Ben’s hands that he couldn’t seem to control. He always seemed to have that effect on him—how Ben always got so nervous at the way he said his name, the way he looked at him so casually yet so lovingly at once. Every time he did it before they were dating, Ben felt like he would have a heart attack, and his condition hadn’t seemed to improve as he could clearly see Ricky eyeing him.
“What are you looking at me like that for?” He mumbled accusingly, voice lacking confidence. It was impossible to focus on the task at hand combatted with flirting.
“Like what?” Ricky asked, not trying to hide his smile as he knew what Ben was referring to.
“You know what.”
Ricky stifled a laugh, causing Ben to have to tighten his grip on his chin. “Quit moving, dork,” he demanded, his tone sweet nonetheless, switching to Ricky’s right eye, “I don’t want to mess it up more.”
“I just think you should come a little bit closer.” Ricky scooted towards him, ignoring what had just been said, bumping their knees together—incidentally making Ben twitch out of focus too quickly. An out of place splotch of blue eyeshadow came from the flinch of his hand.
Ben cursed under his breath, glaring as he heard Ricky giggle in front of him. “You really can’t handle any personal space?”
“Not with you,” Ricky shot back.
“Clearly…” Ben muttered, not being able to beat the grin tugging at his lips. He didn’t bother fixing the smudged eyeshadow, setting the brush down. His hand drifted towards the eyeliner pencil littered amongst the pile of makeup beside him, but he had a better thought first.
“Actually, I might have to get closer for this,” he said, a sly smile spreading across his face. Ricky returned it, but his expression quickly changed to surprise as Ben shifted quickly onto his lap, thighs bracketing his hips.
Ricky looked him up and down, caught off guard with a pink tint rising to his cheeks. He blinked. Once, twice, processing it. Ben paid no mind to it, though mentally thoroughly enjoying the surprised look on his face, and grabbed the eyeliner pencil beside him.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? No more personal space,” he teased, surprised by his uncommon ability to get Ricky flustered on purpose. It was typically the other way around with him knowing exactly how to sweet-talk Ben, but he knew exactly how to catch Ricky off guard as well. He was just bad with his words.
Ricky snickered under his breath, “yeah, you’re right.”
Ben hummed as he etched with the pencil onto Ricky’s waterline, the moment having grown quiet. Ricky’s expression lacked teasing at that point—only adoration, and slight nervousness. Ben couldn't say that he hated the proximity.
His hand trembled slightly, trying his best to focus, but he had a gut feeling that things wouldn’t end with what they had in mind.
“What are you looking at?” Ricky repeated, but with a voice laced with interest, not accusing.
Ben’s eyes made contact with his. He opened his mouth, wondering if any quip could spill out—yet nothing. He could only stare and internally marvel at how distracting Ricky could be.
Even looking at him with makeup on, trying his best to hold still while laughing, he still looked like his Ricky. It didn’t cross his mind that it would be better if he were a girl, something that he might’ve thought of months back. He could only think of how the eyeshadow brought his eyes out even more, how the lipstick drew him in and made him feel the desperate racing in his chest, that magnetic feeling that Ricky’s lips gave him.
Ricky’s expression shifted, his sly smirk melting into a softer smile as his arms looped around Ben’s waist, pulling him closer. Ben couldn’t take the anxiety-inducing continuance of the tension. The eyeliner pencil dropped from his grasp, still open, landing on the bedsheets with a light thump. He leaned in, slowly, his hand resting as it cupped Ricky’s jaw.
His lips met Ricky’s halfway, his focus completely drained. Ben’s hands moved with a mind of their own, to the back of Ricky’s neck and threading slowly through the hair as if it were silk. As he leaned in deeper, he could feel the red stain of the lipstick seeping onto his own lips, but he didn’t care. He hadn’t realized how badly he missed Ricky before this, how badly every second with his lips on his was one gone to waste. Ricky’s hands moved up his back, kissing him with identical passion. His arms tightened around Ben as he tumbled backwards onto the bedsheets in an instant from the force. Ben pulled back, his breath fanning against Ricky’s face.
“Sorry,” he stuttered, his mouth still close to Ricky’s. He simply looked up at him, grinning like the idiot he was. “Can’t focus anymore, pretty boy?”
Ben giggled, catching his breath from the intensity, “I think I should be calling you that.”
Ricky hummed a small mhm, pressing a kiss to Ben’s cheek softly from underneath him. His hands clutched onto his back, he rolled both of them over onto their sides with a content expression. “I should let you do this more often,” he whispered, pressing another kiss to Ben’s forehead, “you should make me look like Gerard Way next time,” Ricky said, seemingly abandoning any chance at being mysterious as he peppered small kisses all over Ben’s face. “Sure— I’ll try,” Ben said, chuckling when he spoke.
Ben gathered the makeup left on his bed, a wide grin etched onto his face from reminiscing that afternoon. Ricky had left only a few minutes ago, but Ben still felt the exhilaration of his heart-rate slowly wearing off. He figured that he should give the makeup back to Donna, since Ricky told him afterwards that he had enough himself, and she could find someone more useful to give it to.
He knocked once, always knowing it was a good idea to ask before entering when it came to Donna. She swung up the door in a second, and her expression shifted as soon as Ben fully came into view. Ben didn’t pay any mind to the fact her mouth was hanging half-open, her eyes puzzled. He held out the makeup to her, “you can have these back, if you want, I can just throw them away if they’re no good.”
A beat of silence passed between them before Donna spoke.
“Ben, you… uh…” She gestured at her own face without much explanation.
“I what?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow.
“You might wanna wipe that off before dinner,” she said, looking him up and down cautiously. She took the makeup from him, shutting the door without another word. Before Ben could ask what could possibly be wrong, he heard her burst into laughter through the wall.
Out of clear confusion, Ben sprinted towards the bathroom. His brain ran through the possibilities, but his mind ended up with nothing until he came face to face with the mirror.
Ben’s eyes widened as he immediately noticed what Donna was referring to—and why he could hear her laughing from there with the bathroom door still open. Several lipstick smears had been imprinted onto his skin, trailing down from his cheek and faded around his neck. He saw his own face turn a bright red, blending in with the marks.
Ricky must’ve noticed, but hadn’t said anything. The vague remembrance of Ricky trying not to laugh before leaving, and Ben not understanding why, popped in his head. He was incredibly lucky that Donna was the only one to see them.
“Shitbird…” he grumbled quietly, grabbing a paper towel from underneath the sink to wipe them off. But he couldn’t help smiling just a bit when he remembered Ricky’s lips pressed into his skin.