Fic: Air-whipped
Title: Air-whipped
Fandom: Breakfast with Scot
Pairing/Characters: Scot, Eric/Sam
Rating/Category: G
Prompt: I would do anything for love, but I won't do that!
Spoilers: the end of the movie, but it's nothing earth-shattering, really
Word count: 1725
Summary: Eric loves Scot just the way he is, even if it drives him crazy
Disclaimer: Don't own what doesn't belong to me
Written for
“Oooh!” Scot shouted. He dove off through the crowd of shoppers, making a B-line for the makeup counter of the department store.
Eric tried to stop him and caught a handful of pink turtleneck before Scot slipped away again.
“They have that new makeup line, the air-whipped one!”
“Scot!” Eric resorted to a stern parental tone of voice. “We’re supposed to be getting a gift for Joan. And we are not getting her makeup. That is just . . . way to weird for me to get for her.”
“Not for Joan, silly,” Scot threw over his shoulder. “The foundation and blush are supposed to be completely weightless. It smooths everything out so you look flawless, but it doesn’t even seem like you’re wearing any makeup.”
“You know what else looks like you’re not wearing makeup? Not wearing makeup,” Eric grumbled. “Now focus. We’re here for Joan.”
“Please, Eric? Can’t I just get a quick session with the saleslady and see how it looks on me? I mean, I know it’s probably expensive but I’d just like to see if it really is as nice as they say it is.”
“What? No. No way. Are you nuts?” Eric let the words escape before he had a chance to censor them with the understanding parent filter.
Scot paused to turn around and give him a little pout. “Why not?”
“Because . . . we’re here for Joan.”
“It’ll only be a few minutes. Besides, we stopped in the electronics department when you wanted to see the new flat screen TVs, and that wasn’t for Joan.”
“You don’t know. It could have been,” Eric muttered. “Maybe we should look for a purse or something?”
“Sure, I can help you pick out a handbag when I’m done.”
“Scot,” Eric sighed. “No. You can’t . . . you can’t put on makeup here in front of all these people.”
Scot frowned. “Why can’t I? You said that I could do anything I wanted that wasn’t dangerous or detrimental to my health.”
“Within reason, Scot.”
“But, you said I should always be myself. You told me you love me just the way I am and that I should never change for anyone.”
Eric brought both hands up to rub at his face. Scot had an uncanny memory. “I know I said that . . . but do you have to be you in makeup?”
“The rules for who can and can’t wear makeup are completely arbitrary. Why shouldn’t I get to have flawless-looking skin too?”
“You can wear makeup at home,” Eric pleaded, lowering his voice as he suddenly felt like scrutinizing eyes were already upon them. “You don’t need to put on a public display here. People don’t like it when you shove differences in their faces.”
“People don’t like it, or you don’t like it?” Scot put a hand on his hip and stared Eric down.
“Fine. I don’t like it. There, you win. I love you just the way you are, but I don’t want to have to sit here and watch you put on makeup at a department store counter in front of a hundred other shoppers.”
Once the words were out Eric squeezed his eyes shut in regret, and he knew he had just lost the argument.
Scot said nothing, but blinked at him disappointedly.
“Fine, Scot.” Eric sighed. “Go put on your makeup.”
With a little squeal and a clap of his hands Scot ran up to the startled lady behind the counter. “Could I try the new air-whipped blush line? The sign here says you’re giving free trials.”
The woman blushed a bit herself and looked over at Eric, who gave her a shrug while steadfastly avoiding direct eye contact.
“Well . . . alright. Have a seat right here and I’ll bring out my samples.”
She pulled out a little tray of pinks and roses and leaned over Scot, who beamed with excitement. “I think I’m partial to a peachy-pink myself,” he informed her.
Eric scanned the crowd, and sure enough, eyes were on them. And why wouldn’t they be-there he was, a grown man permitting his almost thirteen-year-old sort-of son to put on makeup in the middle of a crowded department store. The only thing that could make the scene more complete would be Sam standing by his side, holding his hand . . . perhaps in a matching sweater. Then the three of them could be the poster family for living out and proud.
As if on cue, Sam popped up from behind a rack of gaudy necklaces with a few new shirt-and-tie combos in his hands-some in various pastel shades, for him, and others in blues and reds, for Eric. He took one look at Scot in the makeup chair and Eric sulking behind him and his face lit up with an all-knowing smile, a captivating mixture of amusement and love.
Eric scowled back at him. “I couldn’t stop him.”
“But I’m sure you tried,” Sam said, stepping to his side.
“Of course I tried. He’s putting on makeup, Sam. Makeup. In front of everyone. And I have to watch.”
“Mhm.” Sam nodded. “Sounds like a special form of torture, invented just for you.”
“There, what do you think?” the saleslady asked, adjusting a mirror so Scot could examine himself.
“Looks nice,” Scot said, peering at his reflection. “Feels nice too. Not heavy like some other stuff.”
“Well, yes,” she agreed. “That’s what makes this line so great.”
“You’re done now, right?” Eric interjected. “We can go?”
Scot continued to study his face. His eyes flitted up for a second. “Oh, hi, Sam. What do you think?”
“Looks nice, Scot,” Sam replied cheerily.
Scot nodded thoughtfully. “Actually, I was wondering if maybe it might look better if I had some of the foundation on first.”
The saleslady jumped in. “Of course, I agree. It just evens everything out, so the blush can be all the more eye-catching.” She ducked behind her counter and came out with a whole new set of tiny tester-sized makeup containers.
Eric stared heavenwards and silently begged for a quicker end to his nightmare.
“Hey.” Sam nudged him with an elbow. “It’s okay. You can go, if you want. I’ll stay with him.”
“Really?” Eric asked skeptically. “You’d let me off the hook so easily?”
“Actually, I’m pretty impressed you made it this far.” Sam laughed. “So I guess I’m giving you points for that.”
Eric scowled again, annoyed by Sam’s casual attitude. “So you’re telling me you don’t mind at all, having people stare at us right now? Because you know they are. And now that you’re here they’ve probably figured out we’re together and assume we’re running a queer factory at home."
Sam eyed him with a bemused expression. “Sure, I’d rather not be stared at, but in the end people are gonna do what they’re gonna do. Scot’s going to put on makeup. People are going to stare. I guess we’ll all just have to learn to live with that. And as for people figuring out you and I are together . . . I wasn’t aware that was still a problem.”
“It’s not, Sam.” Eric shuffled his feet with a sigh. “Nevermind. You’re right. I guess I’ll stick it out. As you pointed out, I’ve come this far.”
Sam smiled approvingly and looked away, a little bit of laughter bouncing around in his blue eyes.
“All done,” the saleslady announced. “You have lovely skin, by the way.”
“Thanks!” Scot chirped happily, smiling at his reflection. “You’re a lovely makeup artist. It looks great.”
“Would you and your . . . partner like to try anything?” the saleslady asked Eric innocently.
“Uh...” Eric waved his hands with a nervous laugh. “No. No thank you. We don’t . . . we don’t, uh . . . we’re . . . we’re not that kind of . . . I mean, we are gay, but we’re not the kind that . . ."
“Better quit while you’re behind,” Sam mumbled in his ear, his voice rippling with laughter.
“But you wear makeup whenever you’re on TV,” Scot countered with his brilliant powers of logical debate. He seemed destined to follow in Sam’s lawyerly footsteps. “What’s the difference? You look good on TV, so why not try some here?”
“Yeah, Eric,” Sam suddenly chimed in. “I never get to see you wearing makeup in person. Why not give it a try?"
“Oh, no you don’t.” Eric began backing up with his hands thrown out defensively. “No. Absolutely not. Scot, you can wear makeup to your heart’s content. And Sam, you can announce to everyone here that I’m your partner if you like. But there is no way in hell you are getting me in that chair. I love you both, but no.”
He turned on his heels and sped away, fuming as the sounds of Sam’s and Scot’s laughter trailed after him.
“Come back, Eric!” Scot shouted. “You’ll never be able to get a good gift for Joan without us!”
“Then she’ll get a lousy gift,” he yelled over his shoulder. “She’s been my sister for a long time, so she’s used to that.”
Scot ducked through a maze of clothing racks and caught up to him, grabbing at his hand. He grinned up at Eric with his peachy-pink cheeks and mouthful of braces. “Nah, we can get her a nice gift this year,” he said sweetly. “And Eric, I was just teasing. You don’t have to try on any makeup. I know you’d hate it . . . and I love you just the way you are, too.”
Eric smiled at him ruefully, then reached out to tousle his hair. “Alright, Scot.”
Still hand-in-hand, they backtracked to the purses and Eric grabbed the first one that was at eye-level. “How about this one?’
“Eric.” Scot shook his head with disdain, grabbing the bag and putting it back on the shelf. “That one is terrible. Honestly, what would you do without me?”
“Not sure.” Eric shrugged, but he was sure of a few things. He’d get stared at less, and he’d be a lot less prone to caving to the demands of suspiciously sweet children.
And he’d also be much less experienced in the field of unconditional love.
***