Above The Line

Chapter Four

At long last, Arthur shook himself out of his daze and clasped his hands together, rolling back his shoulders and stretching his neck.

"Okay," he announced, now that he had finally decided where to begin. "Close your eyes and lean back."

Alfred complied wordlessly, settling into his comfortable leather chair. He was curious as to what Arthur would do, considering each makeup artist had his or her own methods and opinions. Some were better than others, though at the end of the day, it mainly fell to who expressed best what Alfred had to offer. Artists were only as good as how much their own ideas agreed with that of their acting charge, and sometimes, they just naturally didn't mesh.

Of course, Alfred was hoping for the opposite this time around. That firm ass wrapped in that perfectly fitting pair of dark skinny jeans could stay right where it was, thank you very much.

Arthur picked up a cotton pad and some cleansing water and began. He swabbed gently at that skin, cleaning away whatever vestiges the former makeup artist had applied. He'd start fresh, ensuring that whatever greatness came from this-and whatever mistakes, as well-would be purely his own.

The artist then rubbed moisturizer into the skin (which he noted was practically unnecessary, considering how soft it already was, but, as was many things, it was again a force of habit). His gentle but firm hands traveled from the forehead all the way down behind the ears, lingering slightly longer than necessary upon those gorgeous cheeks before moving down to the neck.

That last bit surprised Alfred, who laughed a bit as he shifted in his seat. It tickled for the first few seconds that it took for the actor to get used to those massaging motions smoothing over his taut neck muscles, and then he fell into pure bliss. Arthur could work wonders with those hands-hands which Alfred was sure would be surprisingly soft underneath those gloves. Most artists had rough fingers, hardened by overexposure to a variety of chemicals and surfaces, but Alfred could tell that Arthur's were different-much like the artist himself was different.

Arthur Kirkland just went about things in a unique way, seeming to put his whole being into his work, even with such a simple thing as the initial moisturizing step. Most other artists would have been done in five minutes, but Alfred swore this massage had been going on for at least fifteen already. And that's what it was! A massage! The movements were firm, each press into the skin filled with purpose and almost a desire to infuse Alfred's very skin with Arthur's vision and ideas.

It was incredibly relaxing yet exhilarating. Alfred knew he had been right to force his manager into getting down this ever-elusive Arthur Kirkland once and for all. That's right. It was he who had made the move to request this artist by name, he who had thrown his money around, he who had watched the proceedings to personally ensure that Arthur Kirkland, artist extraordinaire, was captur-err, hired.

And it was worth every single penny.

Alfred let his shoulders droop as he relaxed even further into bliss. Arthur didn't speak whatsoever as he worked, which was welcome, actually. Artists had this tendency to talk excessively, which either quickly bored Alfred or annoyed him to no end, since he had enough of people talking at him during the rest of his waking hours already.

This peace and quiet, broken only by the soothing softness of Arthur's breathing, was something the actor knew he could easily and quickly get used to.

Arthur was glad that Alfred's eyes were closed, since he was sure that the actor would have been scared off by just how often Arthur had stopped to stare. His fingers still worked, but his eyes and mind were far removed from the present task, opting instead to take a sort of guilty pleasure scan of this famous actor's face instead. There was simply so much to look at, so much to think about. Each subsequent glance-over revealed something new, and Arthur's brain was greedily taking it all in.

There were so many avenues down which he could go, so many options from which he could pick. It was difficult for him to disguise his excitement, actually, despite his initial misgivings regarding working with Alfred F. Jones. With such a good foundation already there, Arthur could devote much more of his time to details and experimentation. He had time to erase, start over, try and try again. It was like his personal playground, and he very much felt like a kid again, ready to embark on his first adventure.

Thus, Arthur wasted no time and no breath upon idle chit-chat as he quickly decided between brands of foundation (and a tiny bit of concealer) and began into laying down the basic necessities. He had to undo his moves a few times as he tried different shades and brand names, even referencing the script once or twice to remind himself of the blocking.

However, Arthur was not only a professional, but he was also the best of the lot, and that meant he had a good memory for details and a good eye for what worked and what didn't. Thus, it was only a short time before the preliminaries were through and Arthur could clear aside that child's play for the real fun, the actual nitty-gritty work of makeup artistry.

Colors, definition, and focus.

It only took Arthur a moment of indecision and one last glance at the script before he sized up his shoulders and squared away his mind. Alfred's eyes were spectacular, stunning and indescribable, and they were undoubtedly the focus of each shot. They had to be, for it'd be the greatest crime of cinematography otherwise. Arthur didn't care if Director Väinämöinen or anyone else disagreed. He'd make them see the truth.

"Open your eyes," Arthur requested, needing the reference so he could highlight the correct colors. Plus, he couldn't lie to himself and say that he wasn't looking forward to seeing that gem-like beauty once again.

"Please," the artist added as an afterthought, his dark and serious mood already softening up a bit to the sweet character that was Alfred F. Jones. How could he resist those dimpled cheeks?

Alfred took a deep breath and slowly let his eyes flutter open, his eyelashes catching the light in a way that made Arthur pause. The artist wasn't swooning. He really wasn't. Really.

Yeah, sure.

Arthur shook his head and pressed onward, past that stupid cloud in his mind and temporary lapse of judgment. He leaned in a bit once again to observe the smaller flecks of color he could draw out... and he promptly leaned back, shooting Alfred the most disbelieving look.

What sort of winter blue eyes had the audacity to have flecks of gold in them? And silver, too, with a small hint of olive-and was that purple?

The artist wanted to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it all, seeing as this situation only got crazier and crazier. Just when he thought his options were limited to the insane amount he already possessed, Alfred's face had new ways of surprising him ever more.

"Your eyes are unlike any I have ever seen before," Arthur commented quietly, almost to himself. He shook his head incredulously as he turned around to rummage in yet another bag, this one full of only eye makeup supplies.

Alfred smirked, crossing his legs. "Careful, tiger," the actor murmured very softly, his eyes hungrily ghosting over that firm behind that was presented to him once again. "Some might take that as the prologue to a romantic declaration..."

"Pardon?" Arthur asked, whirling back around, his thick eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly. "What did you say?" The air rushing through the vents and the loud cacophony of his own jumbled thoughts had prevented the artist from hearing fully what the actor had uttered.

With lightning speed, Alfred's expression was back to a full and beaming grin as he shook his head, shrugging harmlessly.

"It was nothing," he assured, taking another sip of water. "Just rehearsing my lines."

"Oh," Arthur spoke, resuming his search for the correct supplies. Alfred was so convincing with that smile that the artist thought no more of the matter. He had to admire the kid for his hard work, actually, sitting there and running through his script even in this opportunity for relaxation. Maybe his climb to stardom and his good reputation was completely legitimate after all.

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It's almost New Years! I'm a bit hyped, but the time is begrudgingly slow, ugh. Anyways, this is part two, there's one more part that should be up soon!

- NZ