#and the final quarter was written tonight. on october fifth at 3am HJDSFKGMHJG

[clumsyclifford]

“ok you’ve been trying to put on that eyeliner almost the entire bus ride and you’re strugglin, so i’ma help you out” can you please maybe do this as a malum au?

anon this is. genuinely this is four months late and i am so sorry for that NFKDJGMKGLJ but on the bright side i didn’t forget !!!!!! 

anyway i would like to add that this fic is sneakily (heavily) inspired by Influencer by littleficlets on ao3 yes i’ve talked about it a hundred times before no i will never stop anyway. please enjoy this silliness and keep in mind that when i started writing it it WAS pride month so it made a little bit more sense. just. pretend it’s still june. and like. that there’s no virus adfgjfkgjkgjdf

-

“You’re going to blind people,” Michael tells Luke as he dabs glitter on his cheekbones.

Luke frowns briefly at him before returning to his reflection. “You’re just jealous.”

“I’m serious. There are lights on you, like, for most of the show. You’re going to blind all of our fans.”

“With your beauty,” Ashton (un)helpfully contributes from his bunk, where he’s doing something that’s probably makeup, but Michael’s not sure. “And overall sexiness.”

“Thank you,” Luke says.

“No,” Michael says. “With your fucking glitter. We already know you’re gay, Luke.”

“It’s pride month,” Luke says, pouting. “I’ll be as gay as I want.”

Michael rolls his eyes. Like Luke needs to keep telegraphing that he likes guys. But if that’s how he wants to express himself, fine. He can glitter it up all he likes.

Michael doesn’t feel like he needs to go all out with the pride makeup, but Luke had kind of insisted that they do a pride makeup night at least one night of June, so here they all are, in various states of undress as the tour bus chugs along, and occupying every mirror or iPhone front-facing camera in a desperate attempt to put on makeup on a moving bus. It’s not easy.

On the bright side, Michael had had the foresight to do most of his own makeup before they hit the terrible roads. Now the bus keeps jerking, and every so often they’ll hear Ashton cry out “Ow! Fuck!” after the bus jolts one way or the other. His own fault for trying to do makeup in his bunk. Michael is pretty sure he’s trying to, like, save his look so he can stun Luke, but more power to him.

Luke will drool over him no matter what anyway, so it’s a pretty futile effort, but whatever.

Anyway, Michael’s more invested in what Calum is up to. Calum, sweet, beautiful Calum, who has been staring at his own reflection in his phone screen for about ten minutes, trying again and again to put on his eyeliner. They learned early on in the process of experimenting with makeup that you should do your eyeliner last, but thankfully Calum hadn’t heeded that warning, because whatever other makeup he might have put on would have been wiped away with Calum’s first failed attempt at eyeliner.

In the beginning it’s kind of hilarious, watching Calum struggle. Michael loves him — honest — but the sounds of increasing frustration as he keeps fucking up are hysterical. It doesn’t help that he looks kind of silly every time his hand jerks from a sudden bus movement that draws a long black line next to his eye. But now it’s going on ten, maybe twelve minutes, and at least Luke’s made progress with his glitter. Calum is still sitting there on the couch, looking more determined and fed up than ever, eyeliner pencil poised next to his face.

Michael takes pity. He’s not a monster.

“Hey,” he says, sitting next to Calum. 

“Not now,” Calum says.

“Don’t be rude,” Michael says. “Let me help you.”

“Absolutely not.” Calum briefly lifts his eyes from his phone screen to glare at Michael. “You’ll just draw a dick on my face.”

“Well, that can’t look worse than what you’ve got going on.”

Calum turns the glare up.

“I’m joking,” Michael says. “Look, you’ve already got raccoon eyes from all your failed attempts. Let me just do it for you. I’ve been doing eyeliner for, like, six years. I’m a pro.”

Calum gives him a skeptical look. “Your eyeliner in 2014 was awful.”

“Yeah, but I’ve improved,” Michael wheedles. “Please. I’m begging you. It’s agony watching you fail this much.”

“You love watching me fail,” Calum grumbles, but he drops his phone into his lap and caps the eyeliner pen, and Michael knows he’s gaining ground.

“Yeah, but I also love proving that I’m so much better at something than you are.” Michael holds out a hand. “Gimme.”

Calum looks cross, but he hands over the eyeliner pen. Victorious, Michael sets it aside and says, “Let me take off all this leftover smudgy stuff first,” and pulls a makeup wipe from the open pack between Calum’s knees. Calum sighs, as if Michael’s not doing him an immense favor, and looks up at the roof of the tour bus so Michael can get at the black smudges under his eyes. 

“Cute,” Michael says when he’s finished. Calum blinks a bunch and then looks at the makeup wipe, streaked in black. “Can I blow on your face?”

“Keep it PG!” Luke chides over his shoulder. Michael flips him off.

“Don’t blow on my face,” Calum says.

“The makeup wipe stuff needs to dry before I can put your eyeliner on.”

“So let it air dry.”

“That’ll take too long.”

“Patience is a virtue, Mikey.”

“You would know,” Michael says sagely. “You did try for almost fifteen minutes to put on this eyeliner, after all.”

If looks could kill, Michael would be a goner.

"I'm breaking up with you and suing for emotional damages," Calum says.

"You don't mean that," Michael says, leaning in to sweep a fluttering kiss on the tip of Calum's nose.

"Try me," Calum mutters.

Michael decides to let him be bitter for the moment, because priorities. "At least dry your face off."

Calum pulls his t-shirt over his face and wipes aggressively at it. "Good?"

Michael grins. "Aw, baby's learning to follow orders."

"Shut the fuck up."

"You love me," Michael says, and then, "Don't speak, you'll mess me up." Calum rolls his eyes. "And don't move or I'll stab your eye."

Calum huffs. Michael waits for him to still before leaning in with the eyeliner pencil. It's true he'd been pretty bad at eyeliner back in 2014, but Michael hadn't been lying when he'd said he's improved. That's mostly thanks to Lou teaching him the proper way to put it on, during the Where We Are Tour, but Michael has also practiced enough times to feel confident as he puts the pencil to Calum's face. It's also easier because it's not liquid eyeliner; that's a whole different boss battle.

Calum stays dutifully quiet as Michael works, breathing hot against Michael's wrist but saying nothing. Michael can't help but feel like this is weirdly intimate, which is strange since they've literally fucked, but somehow this feels deeper. The fact that Calum trusts him with a semi-sharp object near his face is pretty profound. Luke would never.

Finally, Michael pulls back, admiring his own handiwork. "Damn," he says. "You look hot."

Calum's lips pull into a smile, although he's obviously trying not to. "Thanks," he says. "I'll take it from here."

"You do kinda look hot," Luke puts in. Apparently he's finally finished his glitter and is now standing next to the couch. 

"Don't call Calum hot, I wanna see!" Ashton calls out.

"Then come out here, asshole!" 

"You come here!"

"Nope, sorry," Calum replies, grinning. "Just have to wait and see."

“I’m done anyway,” Ashton grumbles, and a moment later there’s a clattering noise. Ashton clumsily slips out of the bunk and straightens up, stretching his arms above his head. Michael’s pretty sure he hears something crack.

Luke whistles lowly. “Shit.”

Finally Ashton’s gaze lands on Luke, and he smiles bashfully. “You look good.”

“You look amazing for someone who did all of his makeup in an unlit bunk on a moving tour bus,” Luke returns, tripping over himself to pull Ashton into a kiss. Michael rolls his eyes. At least Ashton’s efforts have been rewarded. 

Michael, on the other hand. 

He brings his eyes back to Calum’s, still kind of floored by how good he looks with eyeliner, with the way it makes his eyes even more intense. “Are you gonna kiss me?”

“Not if you’re a little bitch about it,” Calum says, but he’s already leaning in, one hand warm against the back of Michael’s neck.

“Hey,” comes Ashton’s voice a moment later. “Let me see Calum.”

Michael breaks away irritably. “Can you not? We’re trying to make out here.”

“Hey, you do look hot,” Ashton tells Calum, ignoring Michael. Michael hits his leg. 

“Go away, asshole,” he says. “Leave us alone.”

Ashton grins. “Don’t worry, Mike, you look hot too.”

“I know that,” Michael says, although he takes the compliment to heart anyway, because he likes when people think he looks good, and he values Ashton’s opinion more than most.

(His own boyfriend excepted, obviously.)

“I need to finish doing my eyes anyway,” Calum says, giving Michael a quick kiss on the cheek. “Or you can do it, if you’re so inclined.”

“I am,” Michael decides. He smiles and reaches for the glittery eyeshadow pot balanced on Calum’s thigh. “You’re so pretty, you know.”

Calum blushes, deep red. “Stop it.”

“You’re absolutely gorgeous,” Michael says quietly, “with or without makeup. I’m the luckiest guy on the planet.”

Calum exhales, smiling as Michael reaches for his face. His eyes flutter shut and Michael sweeps the shiny eyeshadow over his eyelids. “Love you,” is all he says, and Michael smiles, too, because that’s really what he’d been getting at.