#parental remile

[pieofdeath]

I need tired parental remile taking care of six small children immediately

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

Heeeeeyyyyy Lia how about some parental boyos with kid Virgil and "learning how to do make up"?

Ooooooh yes I do like this one.Warnings: Some light angst/worry in the beginning, food mention, fire mention, eye-poking, a lot of stupid mushiness from the gay dads 

“Virgil?” Remy knocked on the bathroom door again. “Virgil, honey, I know you teenagers love to take forever with your morning routines and complicated skin care creams but we’re going to be late if you don’t come out soon.”

Emile fondly scoffed from the end of the hall. “Teenagers? Rem, you take an hour just to do your hair.”

“Yes, but I have the time to do that.” Remy turned back towards the bathroom door. “Virge, on the other hand...”

“I don’t want to go to school.” Virgil finally spoke up, voice sounding strained.

Remy shot Emile a concerned look before responding, “When does anybody?”

“This is... different.” Virgil responded. “I-I wanna use a mental health day.”

Remy frowned as Emile actually came over to the door and said softly, “Alright, Virgil. I’ll call the school and tell them you’re sick. Do you need me or Dad to pick anything up?”

“No.”

Emile nodded. “Okay. Just let us now if you need anything.” He said before taking Remy’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze as he pulled him away from the bathroom and into the kitchen.

“Do you think he’s okay?” Remy asked the minute they were far enough away that Virgil wouldn’t hear. He glanced back in the direction of the hall. “The last time he used a mental health day he had a panic attack, Em, and now he’s hiding in the bathroom-”

“I’m sure he’s okay.” Emile cut off Remy, squeezing his hand again. “He knows to ask for help.”

Remy nodded. “I know. I just... I’m just worried.”

“Me too.” Emile agreed, glancing at his Mickey Mouse watch. “But I have to go. Call me if anything happens?”

“Of course.” Remy kissed Emile. “Have a good day.”

“You too.” Emile returned before heading for the door, stopping to glance down the hall before he left. Remy sighed as he heard the front door lock, the only sounds left in the house coming in the form of quiet shuffling in the bathroom.

He spent most of the morning listlessly roaming the house, unable to focus on housework or anything else. Virgil remained in the bathroom.

Remy gave up on the passive ‘let him come to you’ approach around one, when Virgil still hadn’t left the bathroom, even after Remy reminded him at noon that it was lunchtime.

“Virgillllllllllllllll.”

Remy heard a sigh. “What do you want, Dad?”

“For you to eat my mac and cheese. I made too much of it under the apparently false pretense you’re mortal and require food.”

Virgil didn’t reply, but the door opened by a crack a moment later. When Virgil didn’t look out the gap, Remy tutted. “I’m not going to slide the mac and cheese into you.”

“Why not?”

“The bathroom is a no-food zone.” Remy responded. “Also I miss my child’s beautiful, sunshiny face.”

“Dadddddddd.” Virgil grumbled. Remy smiled. Cheesy dad compliments never failed.

“I think you’re required to glare at me now.”

For a moment, nothing happened, and Remy feared he would actually have to push food into the bathroom like Virgil was some sort of prisoner. The crack widened, however, and a sulking, glaring, perfectly normal Virgil appeared. The only difference between this Virgil and any other day’s Virgil was the artificial, darkened bags under his eyes. Seeing the confusion in his Dad’s eyes, Virgil shifted his glare to the floor.

“I wanted to put on some eyeshadow... but I think I messed it up, and I didn’t want to stain a towel to clean it up, and I didn’t want you and Papa to see how stupid it looked.” Virgil mumbled, shuffling his feet. “All of which are stupid reasons to wimp out of school but I felt stupid so...”

“You were stupid.”

Virgil’s head jerked up to looked bewilderedly at Remy. “Dad?!”

“For not telling me you wanted to wear make-up!!” Remy said excitedly. “That’s, like, a crime against common sense!”

“I thought you’d just think it was weird or something...”

Remy gasped in mock offense. “Have you met me?! I am the walking definition of weird! Oh this is to perfect- wait I have to call your Papa before we do anything he’d kill me if we did make-up lessons without him-”

“You sound like you’ve been preparing for this for a while.”

“If you didn’t have a make-up stage I was going to disown you.” Remy said, hurrying off towards his and Emile’s bedroom. “Go eat some mac and cheese! If Papa gets here and learns you’ve just been sulking in the bathroom all day he’ll get stressed and probably hug you.”

“Oh no a hug my biggest fear.” Virgil deadpanned as he headed off towards the kitchen. Remy ignored him, taking his phone off the charger as he barreled into the bedroom’s bathroom, pulling open his make-up drawer and sorting through all the colours and tools while the ring-tone played.

“This is Emile Picani, how may I he-”

“Em! Virgil came out of the bathroom with make-up bags under his eyes and it turns out he just wanted to try on eyeshadow but when he messed up he felt bad which is why he wouldn’t come out but I used my magical annoying powers to get him to and I need you to come home right now so we can teach him how to put on make-up properly and I’m so proud of him-”

“Woah!” Emile stopped Remy. “Slow down, Rem. What’s going on with Virgil?”

“He’s finally entering his make-up phase!!!”

“So he’s alright?”

“Aside from the fact he briefly turned off his brain when he forgot to ask me for help considering I am the make-up queen, yes.”

“Then you’re frantically calling me because...?”

“You can pretend to be above this all but I know you want to help me teach him how to actually put on make-up.” Remy answered, pulling out his brightest eyeshadow palette. “That or you may leave his education up to me and we’ll see how many shades of purple I can fit onto his eyelid.”

Emile sighed, though Remy doubted he was actually annoyed. “You’re lucky I just finished my last appointment of the day.”

“I’m lucky to have married you.”

“You’re shameless.”

“It’s my entire personality, babes.” Remy replied. “So you comin’ home early?”

“Yes. But only because I don’t trust you to teach our son actual make-up basics if I don’t.”

“Come now, Em, you know I give only the best advice in everything!”

“Love, we both know you’ve only ever given good advice one day in your life.”

“Oh, yeah? When’s that?”

Remy didn’t have to be in the same room with him to know Emile smirked before he responded, “The day you said I should marry you.”

He hung up before Remy had a chance to respond. Remy glared at the phone. Damnit, he was supposed to have the last word in these sorts of things. Now he’d have to hide in the bathroom until Emile got home- otherwise his much too nosy son would call him out on being, in fact, able to be flustered.

No child of his could know of such weakness.

“Papa said something cute and gross didn’t he.” Virgil commented the moment Remy stepped into the kitchen twenty minutes later, not even looking up from where he was eating mac and cheese on the counter. “You’ve been hiding for like half an hour and you only do that when you’re pretending you’re not blushing.”

Every child of his knew of his weakness.

Remy was saved from having to reply by the front door opening, Emile appearing next to him a moment later. He smiled when he saw Virgil. “Nice to see you out of the bathroom, Eeyore.”

“Dad bribed me with mac and cheese.”

“And then didn’t get you any make-up wipes?”

Virgil wiped lazily at his eyes, looking at the residue dust on his fingers. “It appears he did not.”

Emile chuckled. “I’m going to do a burn check, and then we can responsibly paint with all the colours of your Dad’s many, many make-up palettes.”

“Y’know, just because me and Virgil have set things on fire five times we’ve been left alone doesn’t mean you have to search the entire house for trace evidence of those fires.”

“I wouldn’t if you two didn’t think you could hide them from me.” Emile replied before he headed off to preform his burn check.

Virgil ate another forkful of mac. “Did you burn anything?”

“For once, no.” Remy answered. “But he may find the gummy bear army. They were in the middle of losing the battle of Chess Board to the assorted cheese and nut squad.”

“Why does anyone trust you alone ever?”

“They normally don’t have a choice.”

Fifteen minutes later and one rather passionate debate between Remy and Emile as to whether or not gummy bears stood a chance against the assorted cheese and nut squad, the three of them were sitting in the house’s biggest bathroom. Virgil’s face was cleaned up, and an assortment of make-up supplies were scattered on the counter.

“So, uh... what do we start with?” Virgil asked, looking slightly overwhelmed. “More importantly, how many of these can be legally classified as torture tools? I have a teacher who gives extra credit for those.”

“Which teacher is that?”

“Surprisingly enough, my geometry teacher.”

“Has she read her own textbook?” Remy laughed when Emile lightly swatted the back of his head. “Just try and tell me I’m wrong.”

“This is not the point of make-up lessons.” Emile said, avoiding the question.

“You do agree.”

“Shhh.” Emile turned to Virgil. “We can start with whatever you want.”

Virgil shrugged. “I don’t know, eyeshadow, I guess? Just so I don’t screw up with it again?”

Remy rearranged the make-up so that the brushes and eyeshadow palettes were at the center of it all.

“Do we start with boring shades, or exciting, fiery, eye-catching, wonderful shades?” Remy asked, already picking up one of the glitter palettes. Virgil frowned.

“Boring shades.” Virgil said. “Glitter will just mess with my aesthetic.”

“Change your aesthetic.”

“Never.”

Emile shook his head while he picked out a simpler palette, this one composed of beiges and browns, and a rounded, stubby brush. He put them on the counter nearest to him. “Starting simple is better anyways.” He said, taking Remy’s glitter eyeshadow away from him. “First, we start with primer.”

“What’s primer?”

“It helps the eyeshadow stay on.” Emile answered, grabbing a small squeeze bottle and a Q-tip. He turned to face Remy while he dabbed a bit of the primer onto the tip. “We’re using Dad as our model because he likes make-up and it gives me an excuse to stare at his face.”

“It’s worth it to be worked on by an angel.”

“You guys are gross.”

“Just wait until you’ve got your own disgusting partner.” Emile replied before saying to Remy, “Now close your eyes.”

“But then I won’t be able to see your perfect face, sweetie.”

Virgil leaned over and pulled on Remy’s eyelids, forcing them shut. “I refuse to sit through this.”

“You’re an ungrateful child.” Remy replied, but he kept his eyes shut while Emile started to apply the primer.

“Next, we apply a neutral colour. That is, if you’re smart.” Emile grabbed his chosen brush and looked at the colours in his chosen palette. “A friendly reminder that, for all his many, many gifts, your Dad is not known for being incredibly wise.”

“My method of layering every colour in the palette in a random order is ingenious.”

“There’s a reason I’m giving this tutorial and not you.”

“Hmph.” Remy crossed his arms. “You better be using glitter eyeshadow.”

“I am.” Emile easily lied.

“I find that doubtful.”

“Too bad your eyes are closed and you can’t prove anything.”

“But what if they were OPEN.” Remy opened his eyes on the last word, an action he immediately regretted when Emile, mid-brush with the neutral shade, poked his now open eye.

“I’ve been blinded!”

“It’s a little poke.”

“Forever blind in the name of beauty!”

“You just need to blink a few times.”

“And to have been hurt by the love of my life!”

“I swear you’re as dramatic as your brother.”

Remy, one hand still gripping his ‘grievously injured’ eye, smirked. “Bold of you to assume I wasn’t the one who taught Roman everything he knows.”

Emile shook his head. “At least you admit you’re just being overly dramatic. Can you also admit your eye is fine?”

“Nope.” Remy replied petulantly. “I’m forever blind.”

“That’s a shame.”

“There is one cure to forever blindness, though it’s incredibly rare.”

“I don’t think I like where this is going.” Virgil spoke up. Virgil was ignored.

“It’s the kiss of the most pure angel in the world.” Remy answered his own question.

Emile smiled and poked Remy’s nose with the make-up brush. “Too bad you can’t kiss your own eye.”

“Says the literal walking ray of sunshine.”

Virgil, recognizing that the situation was getting mushy, grabbed a make-up palette consisting mostly of shades of black and the closest brush before slinking away to his room. Considering it seemed the make-up session was quickly turning into a make-out one, he doubted he was going to learn anything else.

Besides, thinking about it, he rather liked the smudged, baggy eyes look.