Canon

It was almost midnight, and the quiet of their home was only broken by the occasional creak of floorboards and the soft hum of the heater. The night air carried a slight chill, making the warmth of the dimly lit living room feel all the more inviting. Cynthia was curled up on the couch, a plush blanket draped over her lap, her Kindle balanced on her knees. A half-empty glass of chamomile tea sat cooling on the coffee table, untouched for the last twenty minutes.

She had been savoring this rare moment of peace—a night without calls, without events, without anything demanding her attention. Just her, the soft glow of her e-reader, and the quiet comfort of home.

That peace lasted precisely until Ariana stumbled into the room.

“Cyn!” Ariana sang, her voice high-pitched and full of mischief.

Cynthia barely had time to process what was happening before Ariana appeared in the doorway, backlit by the warm light of the hall. She was wearing one of Cynthia’s oversized sweatshirts, the neckline hanging off one shoulder, revealing smooth skin and the thin strap of a tank top underneath. In one hand, she held a makeup bag, swinging it triumphantly like a prize. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes slightly unfocused, and the moment she took a step forward, she wobbled—just enough to give herself away.

Cynthia sighed, already bracing herself. “Ari… are you drunk?”

Ariana scoffed, placing a hand on her hip—though it took her a second to find her balance. “No. I’m… pleasantly wine-kissed.”

Cynthia fought back a smile, lowering her Kindle. “That’s just a fancy way of saying you’re tipsy.”

Ariana ignored her, grinning as she plopped down on the couch beside Cynthia. “I had a brilliant idea,” she announced, dramatically holding up the makeup bag.

Cynthia eyed it warily. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” Ariana countered, nudging Cynthia’s knee with her own. “I want to do your makeup.”

Cynthia blinked. “You want to do my makeup?”

“Yes! Joanna always gets to do it, and she makes you look so pretty, but I wanna make you even prettier.” Ariana’s words came out in a rush, her excitement bubbling over.

Cynthia chuckled, shaking her head. “Ari, that’s literally Joanna’s job.”

“I know that,” Ariana said, waving a dismissive hand. “But it’s my turn now.” She clasped her hands together, eyes wide with exaggerated pleading. “Please? Pretty please?”

Cynthia exhaled, running a hand through Ari’s hair. “I don’t know…”

Ariana gasped dramatically. “You don’t trust me!”

“Oh, I trust you,” Cynthia said, arching an eyebrow. “I just don’t trust your motor skills right now.”

Ariana pouted, scooting closer until their knees were touching. “Pleeeease?”

Cynthia hesitated. She was enjoying her quiet night, and she knew exactly how this would go—Ariana would get carried away, they’d end up laughing too hard, and there was a solid chance Cynthia would walk away looking ridiculous.

But then Ariana tilted her head, her lower lip jutting out in a way that should have been illegal.

Cynthia groaned, already feeling herself give in. “Fine.”

Ariana gasped, clapping her hands in excitement. “Yes! You won’t regret this. I’m gonna make you look soooo good.”

Cynthia shook her head, setting her Kindle aside. “I already regret it.”

Ariana giggled, ignoring her as she unzipped the makeup bag and dumped its contents onto the coffee table. Brushes, compacts, lipsticks, and a few products Cynthia wasn’t entirely sure Ariana even knew how to use spilled out in a colorful mess.

Cynthia pulled her legs up and sat cross-legged on the floor, facing Ariana. She sighed dramatically. “Alright, Picasso. Do your worst.”

Ariana beamed, grabbing a foundation brush and holding it up like a weapon. “Okay, let’s start with this!”

Cynthia narrowed her eyes. “Do you even know how to use that on someone else?”

Ariana gasped. “Excuse me, I own R.E.M. Beauty. I think I know a thing or two.”

Cynthia smirked. “Owning a brand doesn’t mean you can apply makeup drunk perfectly, babe.”

Ariana scoffed. “Rude.” But then she hesitated, looking at the brush as if maybe Cynthia had a point.

Cynthia chuckled, leaning back slightly. “Go ahead, though. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Ariana straightened up, determination flashing across her face. She dipped the brush into the foundation—way too much foundation—and dabbed it onto Cynthia’s cheek with a little too much enthusiasm.

“Hmm.” Ariana tilted her head, inspecting her work.

Cynthia raised an eyebrow. “Good ‘hmm’ or bad ‘hmm’?”

Ariana didn’t answer, instead murmuring, “So smooth…” under her breath as she blended.

Cynthia sighed, letting her do whatever she wanted. It wasn’t like she was going anywhere anytime soon.

As the minutes passed, Ariana got more and more into it, muttering to herself as she worked. Cynthia had to fight the urge to laugh when Ariana squinted in concentration, her tongue poking out slightly as she applied eyeshadow.

“Shh,” Ariana whispered when Cynthia snickered. “Don’t distract the artist.”

Cynthia rolled her eyes but let her continue. By the time Ariana got to blush, things were already getting out of hand. One side was definitely heavier than the other, and the eyeshadow was unevenly blended, but the joy on Ariana’s face made it impossible to complain.

Finally, Ariana picked up a lipstick—a deep red shade Cynthia had worn on stage before. She uncapped it, twisting it up with exaggerated focus.

“Lips next,” Ariana murmured.

Cynthia hummed, tilting her head slightly. “Just don’t make me look like a clown.”

Ariana scoffed. “As if I’d do that.”

She leaned in, her face mere inches from Cynthia’s. The room suddenly felt smaller, quieter. Ariana’s fingers were delicate as they traced Cynthia’s lower lip, applying the lipstick with surprising precision.

Cynthia’s breath hitched.

There was something intimate about it—the way Ariana was so focused, the warmth of her breath against Cynthia’s skin, the way her fingertips lingered just a little too long.

Ariana, oblivious, leaned back slightly to admire her work. “Perfect.”

Cynthia swallowed, forcing herself to speak. “Is it?”

Ariana studied her for a moment, a small, soft smile playing on her lips. “You’re beautiful.”

Cynthia felt warmth spread across her cheeks—whether from the makeup or something else entirely, she wasn’t sure.

“Do you liiiiiike it?” Ariana teased, her voice light, but her eyes searching.

Cynthia nodded, her voice quieter than she intended. “I do.”

Ariana’s grin widened, pleased with herself. “See? Told you I’d make you look stunning.”

Cynthia turned toward the mirror and—

Burst out laughing.

The mismatched eyeshadow, the far too much blush, the slightly smudged lipstick—it was a disaster.

“Stunning, huh?” Cynthia said, raising an eyebrow.

Ariana blinked, then dissolved into giggles. “Okay, maybe I got a little carried away.”

Cynthia shook her head, pulling Ariana into a hug. “You’re ridiculous.”

Ariana buried her face in Cynthia’s shoulder, her giggles muffled against her skin. “But you love me anyway.”

Cynthia smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of Ariana’s head. “Yeah. I do.”

Ariana sighed happily. “Best makeup artist ever.”

Cynthia chuckled. “Sure, babe. Whatever you say.”

Cynthia thought the night was over. She had assumed that once Ariana had finished her chaotic attempt at makeup artistry, they would wash everything off and crawl into bed like they usually did.

She was wrong.

Because Ariana, still giggling from their earlier antics, had suddenly gasped as if she had just discovered the meaning of life.

“Oh my God,” Ariana whispered dramatically, eyes wide. “You look so hot.”

Cynthia, who had just picked up a makeup wipe, raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “I look like a clown.”

“A hot clown,” Ariana corrected, propping her chin on her hand as she gazed at Cynthia.

Cynthia rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t fight the amused smile tugging at her lips. “Uh-huh.”

Ariana scooted closer, resting her hand on Cynthia’s thigh. “No, I mean it. The lipstick…” She traced a finger along Cynthia’s jawline, smudging the already uneven makeup. “It’s kinda sexy.”

Cynthia stilled.

Ariana, for all her teasing, was looking at her differently now. Less playful, more… something else.

Cynthia cleared her throat. “You really are tipsy, huh?”

Ariana smiled lazily. “Maybe. But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

Cynthia huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “Okay, enough of this. I’m taking this mess off.”

She turned, reaching for the makeup wipes again, but Ariana grabbed her wrist.

“Wait,” Ariana murmured.

Cynthia turned back, her eyebrow raised in question—

And then Ariana kissed her.

Softly, but not hesitantly.

It was the kind of kiss that sent a slow, warm ache through Cynthia’s chest. The kind that made her forget she had just spent twenty minutes being attacked by foundation brushes. The kind that made her forget about everything except the feel of Ariana’s lips against hers.

She felt Ariana smile against her mouth before pulling back, her eyes flickering down to Cynthia’s lips.

Cynthia swallowed, trying to steady her voice. “What was that for?”

Ariana grinned, tapping Cynthia’s lower lip with her finger. “Wanted to see if the lipstick was smudge-proof.”

Cynthia exhaled a laugh. “And?”

Ariana tilted her head, pretending to inspect Cynthia’s lips like she was analyzing important scientific data. “Mmm… nope. Definitely not smudge-proof.”

Cynthia chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

Ariana beamed. “You love it.”

Cynthia didn’t answer, but she also didn’t deny it.

Instead, she leaned in, her hand slipping into Ariana’s hair as she kissed her again—

Just to see if the lipstick would smudge a little more.