Title: "Cosmetic"

Author: Mintycoffee

Rating: PG-13 (Possibly R in later chapters)

Disclaimer: I don't own True Blood or any of it's characters.

Summary: This is just a silly "drabble" sort of story. I got the idea for it upon seeing some of the new True Blood promotional photos for season 3. I took inspiration from the photo of Pam applying make-up with Jessica watching her in the background. So obviously, this is a Pam/Jessica story. =P

Author's Note:

This is also kind of an experiment of sorts. lol I raaaarely write, so this could be horrible. =P But if I happen to get positive feedback... I'll continue it. It kind of ends abruptly, sorry about that. =\ There may also be a few spelling errors.

"Cosmetic"

I'm certain that I've been annoying her all day, but it's not my fault. If she wants to stare at someone with that icy glare of hers, it should be directed at Bill, not me. He's the one that left me here. And I don't much appreciate her patronizing remarks toward me, but at least she is rather nice to look at, as I watch her apply make-up in the bathroom mirror.

I've been following her around for the past hour or so, partly out of boredom and partly because I know it bugs her (and she's very easily bugged) and I find that amuses me. Plus, there's nothing better to do around here and no one will let me do anything worth while.

She's so careful with applying her lip liner. I don't think I've ever owned lip liner before. Glosses look nice enough on me, so I never really understood the point of liner, but I think I'm starting to see it. It brings out the curves of Pams lips, I've noticed, making them look much fuller. I like it. I want to try it on myself.

I've been quiet for the past few minutes, too invested in watching. I'm surprised Pam hasn't arched an eyebrow at me. Perhaps she's happy to finally have silence and doesn't want to risk screwing that up for herself by asking why I'm just staring at her with a look of curiosity etched across my face.

I see Pam re-apply her lipstick, as carefully as she had done with the lip liner. It's a nice, dark pink shade. She mashes her lips together, smoothing the lipstick and liner out across the surface of them.

"You've been awfully quiet. I don't know whether to be thankful or... something similar to scared." Pam says to me, pausing before mentioning feeling fearful, for I know fear isn't something she feels often. If ever. The only emotion I'm certain that she feels is annoyance, and I'm happy to supply it.

She starts to place her utensils back in her little black make-up bag, carefully, one at a time. I catch her as she reaches for the lip liner with her well manicured hands, intending to place it in it's designated corner of the bag.

"Would you mind if I tried that on?" I ask her simply. Now there's that eyebrow raise I'd been expecting since I first followed her in here. I find my words again, wanting to explain myself before she rejects me without a second thought. "You just... made it look so good on you. I was wondering if it'd look nice on me too."

Pam pauses for a moment. She turns to look at her finished lips in the mirror, admiring her skill as a small grin begins to form there.

I'm watching her stare at her reflection, rolling my eyes at her obvious self-absorbed nature and becoming fed up with waiting. If only that myth about vampires not having a reflection was true. Then maybe I wouldn't have to wait 10 minutes for her to realize I asked her a question that she has yet to answer.

I finally see her pull her eyes from the mirror and move them to the liner she still holds in her hands below, then direct them at me. I give her a look that expresses something a long the lines of, "for christs sake, are you going to let me use that thing or not?" I'm thinking for the first time today our roles have switched. A look of amusement is playing on Pams features and I'm the one who is quickly losing patience.

Pam takes a breath and without a word, pats one of her hands on the counter, indicating that she wants me to sit there next to her.

I furrow my brow at her, confused by the proposition she's making. I wanted to try it on myself, not have her apply it for me. And I certainly don't need to be treated like a 8 year old girl who has asked her mommy to do her make-up for her. Again, with the patronizing.

"Well, do you want to try it or not?" Pam asks me when I fail to move. While I don't trust that calm yet mischievous grin of hers, I roll my eyes and go with it. I'm starting to wonder why I even asked to try on her lip liner. It's become way more of a hassel than fun.

I hop up on the counter ledge as Pam moves in front of me with her liner in hand, waiting for me to steady myself. I suddenly feel nervous, thinking she's going to just draw on my face with it or make me look stupid somehow. I've been a constant pain in the ass to her all day, so why she'd be nice to me all of a sudden, I'm not so sure.

Her face is expressionless as I see her lift my chin upward with her left hand. I feel awkward looking into her face at this moment, so I quickly dart my eyes to the side of the room. I feel the soft pencil touch the edge of my top lip and start to trace around it's curves. It feels nice, I admit. I glance back at Pam to make sure she isn't trying to hide any laughter in case she's doing it all wrong at my expense, and instead I see that she's in fact paying close attention to the task at hand. Possibly too close. Her face has inched closer to mine than I remember it being before. Her eyes are heavy lidded and her lips are parted as she carefully starts on my bottom lip with the pencil.

"How does it look so far?" I ask trying to seem curious, wanting to break the awkward feeling I can't seem to shake. As I say this, Pams pencil skewers out of line and onto my skin, just beside my mouth. I see her make an almost disgusted look at the mistake I so obviously caused her to create, as she then lifts her hand to my face and starts to wipe the unwanted line away with her thumb.

"Sorry." I mumble out quietly, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"No more talking." Pam tells me in a flat tone, as she keeps a steady gaze on my mouth, making sure she's gotten the the last of the scribble off the corner of my face. I'm more than willing to obey her this time. Having her so close is actually rather scary. Scary and... some other emotion that I'm not quite certain of yet. I almost feel as if I'm meaning to be anticipating something.

To possibly be continued...