Work Text:
There's a girl in the makeup trailer.
Not a girl, that's rude, she seems to be around his age. She's just a surprise is all. The man and woman he'd met when handing over sketches and talking concepts were who he was expecting, hell, maybe even the guy that had taken the impression of his face and seemed to not care that it was a cold, terrifying experience. Not her.
She stands amongst a sea of products he doesn't really have names for, a beautifully laid out work station sitting in front of the chair he's supposed to sit in for however long. The girl looks like she'd be more at home in a Macy's, not about to make him look like he's been killed by vampires.
Before Eddie can stop staring (is that a bow in her ponytail?) And introduce himself she marches forward and sticks out her hand.
"Hi. I'm Chrissy Cunningham, I'm going to be your makeup artist today." Almost like a reflex she smiles too big and laughs a little. She's nervous, Eddie realizes after a second, like shit-your-pants nervous.
"Sounds good, I am at your mercy." What a tool, he doesn't even say his own name, like he's expecting her to recognize him on sight. But she just laughs that weird nervous laugh and ushers him into the chair. She narrates her first steps mechanically and he shuts it out and lets her do whatever to his skin, trying to figure out a way he can help put her at ease, settling on: being on his best behavior. Right. Totally doable.
"You usually do all your own makeup for videos, right? Is this your first time with–" She looks at a loss for words, gesturing first to herself and then towards her kit. "This sort of thing?"
"I had some chick help me out a couple times back when I did some theater type shit for Ren faires but nah, nothing like this."
She half smiles, like she's listening but her focus is mostly on the sketch she's pinning to the mirror. He says, "First time splurging on a video. We're not so small anymore, go big or go home, right?"
"Right. Well, I'm glad you found us, it was great getting to work on these." Carefully, carefully, she starts setting out prosthetic pieces, each with their own label in small neat writing. Some are pre-painted, some are an odd off white and they stink . Chrissy notices his face and laughs, and– wow, the difference between her polite chuckles and the real thing is breathtaking. "Sorry, it takes a minute to get used to it, I should have warned you."
"No no, it was a very, well not pleasant, but a funny surprise. So people have like, full suits of this shit made and have to just sit in the rancid-ness?"
"Well, yeah," she gets defensive before he lifts his hands in surrender, "but it smells worse when it's baking, I get the worst of it if we're being fair."
"Alright, you win." He grins at her, "how do we start?"
Immediately she rattles off a step by step plan that he loses track of very quickly, she's passionate about her work and it strikes him that she's just as devoted as he is to his own art and he can feel his respect for this tiny thing grow.
"I'm going to have to be in your personal space a lot, are you okay with that?" She asks sincerely and he can't help the slow smile spreading across his face, don't be creepy, man.
"You betcha. I'm all yours, Sunshine." She hesitates at the name but then shrugs, rolling with it.
She gets to work and the chatter dies out almost completely, there's on set music playing and since he can't exactly jump around to hype himself up for the shoot he resorts to tapping along to the beat, miming guitar chords with his other hand. Chrissy has gone full artist-mode and she wasn't joking about personal space; she tilts his chin firmly but gently to the angle she wants and Eddie is really trying hard not to think about her confidence and any other scenario where he wouldn't mind her quiet voice ordering him around.
It's uncomfortable, the sensation of the glue and the suffocating feeling of the latex over it, especially wrapped around his neck but he doesn't want to disturb her by complaining, especially when she designed it for his vision.
Trying not to move too much, in a strained voice when the silence between them gets too loud he asks, "so, is this everything you expected from us?"
"I don't really know, I guess I didn't know exactly what to expect. Your music and image is kind of–"
"Mean and scary?"
She nods, "yeah. Sort of."
"Is this," he gestures to himself, "what you expected?"
"Uhm, well, I've been staring at a stone cast of your face for a couple weeks so it's weird to see you, you know, alive and talking and stuff." It's blunt and it's funny and he can't exactly laugh right now, so all that comes out is a weird high pitched sort-of-laughter noise in the back of his throat.
When she taps the glue to check that it's dried enough to move she gives him the okay and he relaxes. exhaling in a rush, "Cunningham, you're stealth funny, you know that?"
"... should I be offended or flattered?" When he lightly shrugs he gets another brief flash of her own private smile and he'll take that win.
"I gotta be that self important musician for a minute, forgive me. Did you know about us before agreeing to the job?"
"Well, our studio accepted, not me specifically, that's why I wasn't there for your lifecast. But no, not really. Sorry." She winces but he waves it off. "I looked up some stuff while I was sculpting, I wanted to get a feel for what my pieces were going to be helping with, aura wise."
"Find anything you liked?"
"Yeah, actually, I know that this music video is for one of your–" She tilts her head, " louder songs, but I loved Painkillers. I ended up putting it on loop when I was working."
Fuck does Eddie want to know what a girl like Chrissy Cunningham sees in one of their few ballads, something he wrote when in a dark, dark moment. It's a sweet melody though, with soft vocals so maybe she just clicked with the music and not the words.
"So: here is where the rest of the hose for the bladder will go, thankfully you've got a lot of hair we can cover it with, and the costuming really helps."
She gently traces a line from the edge of the prosthetic down across his shoulder and back and the slight pressure of her nail sends a pleasant shiver down his spine. "Uhm–" real smooth, he coughs once, trying not to be so weird, "so, what the fuck is a bladder doing being involved in all this?"
"Not like a bladder- bladder, it's really just something we keep the blood in and then put pressure on it until the blood comes out the hose. It's hard to explain, but it looks really really good, I promise. I tested this one myself, I have some really gnarly videos of it." And oh man would he like to see those.
When he asks she shyly pulls free her phone from her back pocket and flips it open. The one she picks to show him has her slumped in a raggedy chair, pretending to be dead as blood slowly oozes from the fake wound in her neck, it's seeping down the deep v-neck of her shirt and normally that's not some shit he's into but the slow slide along her body is, well, something. The video ends with her adorably jumping out of her seat and rushing towards the camera person with a big smile. "See, does that look sort of like what you were going for?"
"Chrissy Cunningham," he says her name real slow, "that is one of the most metal things I have ever seen and you have got to be the coolest person here by ten fucking miles."
Chrissy beams, full on beams at him and if he didn't currently have latex drying on his arms he'd be clutching his chest to check that he's not dying from a heart attack.
"Okay. Cool! Wow, thanks, I'm so so nervous about it but I'm glad I got what you were looking for." Eddie wants to make several jokes that involve her seeming to be everything he's looking for but he holds off– hitting on the makeup artist? (Even if she seems to be flirting back) Not the best look and he's trying to behave himself. "This is my first job I've done entirely on my own, but I promise it'll go well. I'll be right behind you while you're in the chair controlling the blood myself, I'll make it look fantastic, trust me."
"Oh, I trust you Sunshine." And though she looks unsure what to do with the repeated pet name, she smiles a real smile at him. Suddenly he wants to know more, keep her talking, make her laugh again, "tell me more, what's your story you funky little makeup genius?"
"It's not that interesting." Without thinking he taps Chrissy's hip in encouragement, realizing too late that he doesn't actually know her as well as it feels he does, but before he can panic and profusely apologize she keeps talking. "Okay. Well, I guess I got started when I went to a haunted house for the first time."
She talks slowly, probably feeling uncomfortable talking about herself and he completely gets the feeling. He loves the fame and the recognition and the music but people prying into his life has never been a favorite of his. If it weren't for the small smile playing around her mouth that implies she doesn't quite mind he would tell her it's okay to drop it, but… he wants to hear her talk and he's never claimed not to be a greedy bastard when he wants something. She's so cute with her palate and the way she's looking over her work as if he's an art piece and he is perfectly content to be her canvas. Tiny brush in hand she's focusing very carefully on the edges of the piece on his neck, the soft bristles and the occasional puff of her breath on his skin is distracting. Later he'll laugh at himself about the whole thing with Dustin and the rest of the band and let them tease him; for now he'll just bask in this unexpectedly enjoyable ray of sunshine.
"It was right out of high-school, I had a boyfriend back then who was kind of a jerk sometimes and he brought me there to scare me. Probably hoping I'd– I don't know, run into his arms or whatever."
"Let me guess, ex-cheerleader?" She starts, pulling back the brush before she can smear something on accident.
"Yeah, how'd you know?"
"Ponytail." Eddie says then tries to hide his smirk when she instinctively reaches back to touch it. "Don't worry, I won't tell. Where were we, douchey boys and haunted houses?"
Chrissy leans out of his space and stretches her back, laughing, "his plan, right. It didn't work. I ended up finding out I loved getting scared."
Satisfied with his neck she moves on, sitting on her rolling case she holds his hand to work on the bites along his wrists. She has to look up now when she talks to him and he wants to laugh at how cute she is. "From there I started watching some old horror movies, and then new stuff. Realized people get paid to make all the cool gorey stuff and wound up here. I'm so lucky I got my apprenticeship with Kelley Studios."
"And now you're here, with me."
"Yup! Ended up here with you." Her smile could light up amphitheaters and he has got to get himself in check.
"Okay, I'm done with all the special effects, did you want to do your normal makeup routine over it, or do you want me to do it?"
Normally his look is sacred, a routine of his that he defends religiously but the thought of her careful attention being involved has got a lot of appeal.
"Lets see your spin on it." And even though his tone is playful she's deadly serious when she nods.
Chrissy washes her hands free of the reds and purples of her paints before picking up things he actually recognizes, she even has his brand of eyeliner he notices before she tells him to close his eyes. She's standing between his spread knees and he can feel her presence there– even with him sitting she's barely at his eye level. goddamn– he has to restrain himself from resting his hands on her hips even though it feels like the most natural thing to do. Clasping his hands together to handcuff them into place he swallows hard and tries not to think at all.
Unfortunately (fortunately?) Before he can blow it with her by being a freak the director makes his way over to them and then it's go time and there's no more time to try and get to know this talented mystery girl. Briefly while in wardrobe he gets a good look at his face and she's done a perfect job, copying his style down to the last brush stroke. Then it really is truly go-time and he has to try and put the tiny strawberry blonde out of his mind and focus on performing.
Every time they call cut she rushes in, small bottle and brush in hand, adding to the effect before dashing back out of the way, leaving the faint trace of her perfume and the corn syrup blood behind. When it finally comes down to the final shot, the do-or-die-one-shot-money-shot she's crouching behind the ornate arm chair that is about to meet its doom.
A gentle hand on his wrist startles him but when he glances over his shoulder he could melt. She's small enough to be completely hidden, air pump and other various things he doesn't have a name for in her hand and around her. She whispers and then gives him a thumbs up, "you've got this!"
And man, when that director calls action as much as he wants to smile like an idiot he acts his heart out. The effect goes off without a hitch and as the cold syrup seeps into his clothes he knows he made her work shine as best he possibly could.
While the DP goes over the footage and wardrobe towels the fake blood off of him Eddie spots her at crafts nervously picking over the available food. As he walks up he watches her take tiny pieces of food, like she's worried she's not supposed to be eating anything here.
"Cast only." He says in a gruff voice, wincing when she almost jumps out of her skin. "Shit, I'm sorry Chrissy. I'm joking, go ahead."
"I'm– I'm good with just this." He glances doubtfully down at her pitiful plate but decides not to comment.
Instead he asks, "Favorite movie?" Holding his hand out like it's a microphone. She blinks at him before giggling ( good lord ) and playing along.
"Overall or good makeup?"
"Makeup."
"A Nightmare on Elm Street, hands down. They made a lot of bold choices in it but I loved it. I would give anything to have been on that set." Chrissy looks longingly at nothing for a second, lost in thought before she laughs self-consciously and smiles at him. "Do I get to ask a question now?"
"In a bit, in a bit. Tattoos?"
"Two." When it doesn't look like she's going to elaborate Eddie pretends to be wounded, holding his chest and reeling backwards.
"Oh come on! Princess, don't leave me in the dark!"
"Okay okay!" She laughs, covering her mouth with her free hand. "I have a sunflower on my hip and… God, this one is so stupid I should just make something up!"
Eddie just lifts his eyebrows in encouragement, delighted.
"I have a sheet ghost on the bottom of my right foot." Giving up on looking him in the eyes she sets her plate down to cover her face while she laughs.
Before he can keep interrogating her, Dustin, that punctual little twerp rolls up with a confused smile, pointing between Eddie and Chrissy.
"Hey, Eddie." He says, drawing out the 'hey' obnoxiously. "I can see you're having a good time here but we gotta wrap up."
His mouthed sorry seems genuine enough, or at least enough not to warrant a noogie so Eddie lets him saunter away un-harassed.
"Damn." He looks down at her, still flushed with embarrassment and laughter, looking (or at least he hopes) a little crestfallen when he has to turn and say goodbye. "Curtain calls are like a noose sometimes. That's the life, though. It was wonderful getting to work with you, I will definitely be calling you."
"I'd love to work with you again." She says sincerely, extending her hand again. "Uhm."
He waits but she shakes her head after a minute, "nevermind. Thanks for sitting for me, you looked great. See you next time!"
He's about to let her go, watching that cheer ponytail swing its way out of his life before he stumbles forward, "hey, wait. Chrissy.
"Feel free to tell me I'm a creep and to fuck off– can I have your number?" And damn if her smile couldn't light an amphitheater.
-
[To: Sunshine @ 9:15PM]
What were you going to say today? Before I had to leave?
[From: Sunshine @ 9:17PM]
It's funny, I was going to ask for your number.
[To: Sunshine @ 9:17PM]
Damn, Cunningham, that's bold.
[From: Sunshine @ 9:20PM]
I thought it might make me seem desperate :/
[To: Sunshine @ 9:21PM]
Good thing I don't mind seeming a little desperate.
[From: Sunshine @ 9:22 PM]
Don't worry, I thought it was very smooth.