#this forced me to actually consider what elmax dynamics would be and its come to my attention that I get aro vibes from both of them

[givehimthemedicine]

Do you take requests? If so, would you be willing to do headcanons (or maybe a full fic idk) of poly!elmax and poly!lumax getting ready for a school dance (like prom) and going to the dance?

(sorry idrk how to deliver on the poly part so here's an elmax ficlet I hope that's close enough)

"Ready for the unveiling?"

A muffled "Yes" comes through the bathroom door.

"Ok, let's see it."

And the knob turns and "OHgeez-" Max's eyes go wide at the sight.

Her mind races while El waits for her reaction.

Responses do come to mind, lots of them, just not the kind she can say to El. She goes easier on her than anyone else, because she isn't like anyone else. There's just no way to put a gentle spin on girl, your face looks like an entire circus.

She's big on El making her own choices, but letting her do her own makeup for the dance was a huge mistake.

Hopeful doe eyes look at her through lashes so heavy with mascara that they're sticking together when she blinks. And the rouge. It's just... two red circles. Like from a Twister mat.

"Uhh." Briefly, Max considers slapping on a fake grin and a thumbs up and finding one positive thing to say. Which would be what? That... she guesses the hair is.... potentially salvageable...

No. There'll be plenty of bold looks at the dance, but this is something else, and she can easily picture it getting El a kind of attention that might ruin her fun tonight.

No answer is answer enough.

"Not good?"

"It's just..." Max follows her back into the bathroom, where she coughs at the smell of 1,000 gallons of perfume and burnt hair, "a lot."

The counter is littered with bottles and brushes and rouges and eyeshadows and magazines open to photos that have contributed parts to the fashion Frankenstein in the mirror. El's fingertips touch the glossy title on a page of pictures of Julia Roberts for that new movie Pretty Woman, frowning like what could have gone wrong.

Max fails to hold back a snort, and El looks up.

"What?" she asks, looking confused throughout the momentary giggling hug that Max can't help giving her.

"You're cute," she answers. "El, you're pretty, I just can't even see you through all that stuff."

She could keep going. It'd be some real romantic shit to tell El she's already the most beautiful girl on the planet, but that isn't the issue. Max knows that any concern she has about the way she looks tonight has more to do with fitting in as a normal high school girl than whether anybody finds her attractive.

Looks don't seem to have much to do with El's interest in anyone; compliments on that subject do nothing for her, and she basically never gives them out. It doesn't bother Max. And she gets it. It's not like El being pretty is the main thing she likes about her, either.

"Look, dressing up is fun but you're supposed to still look like you. And this," Max plops the magazine aside, "might not reeeally be the look you want to go for, like... in public."

"It is kind of.. different." El considers her reflection, left eye stuck half-shut. "Do over?"

"Maybe so." Max 's eyes catch a paintbrush on the counter, and she frowns, picking it up. Like, a full-on big art brush, with paint flecks on the handle and everything, its bristles loaded with makeup. "Is.... is this Will's?"

"Yes. He has lots."

Max smirks, picturing him in the bedroom across the hall, searching the floor around his easel. She rubs a thumb over the makeup caking the other girl's cheek. "Wonder if he has some turpentine, too."

"What are those?"

"It's..." Max sighs, grabbing her a scrunchie, "nothing. Here."

"El," Will's voice comes down the hall, like they've conjured him. "You didn't put the iron somewhere weird, did you?" he leans in the doorway. "Mom can't find it. Hey, Max."

"Hey."

"I didn't move it," El answers.

"'Kay." He slides out of the doorway, but his hand shoots back to grab the door frame and he pulls himself abruptly back in, looking aghast from El's face, to Max, to the brush in Max's hand.

"What'd you do to her?" he gapes.

"No, no-"

"Oh, Will," El asks, gathering back her hair, "Do you have turp and tine?"

His face grows one notch more bewildered. "Girls use turpen-"

"No," Max interrupts, shoving the paintbrush into his hand and making get out eyes. "We don't. Here. Don't worry about it."

Will grabs Max's wrist and pulls her one step beyond the doorway, whispering, "You know she has trouble fitting in, do you know what people are gonna-"

"I! Didn't! Do that!" she hisses, pointing. "I'm working on it."

He grimaces, sniffing the air, "Are you sure about the iron?" and she gives him a shove.

El is buried in the sink, scrubbing away. The eventual sight of her actual face makes Max smile. "Take two?"

"You do it."

Max clears a space on the counter with her forearm, sending a lipstick tube rolling into the sink, and pats it for El to sit.

A soft knock on the door frame and Will is back.

"I have... finer ones," he steps forward and lays an assorted handful of paintbrushes on the counter like an uncertain offering. "I thought.. like, for details..." he shrugs.

"Thanks, Will," El smiles cheerfully at him as he backs out again.

"Don't know what I'm gonna do with either one of you," Max mutters, smirking. "Okay. So. The eyeshadow. Maybe let's narrow it down to one color?"

"You will be looking at me. I won't." El shrugs. "Make me look how you like to look at."

She knows what El means, but she still has to pause.

"This is how I like to look at you," she gestures at all of her - bare face, comfy t-shirt, fraying cutoffs.

"But." El gestures at the makeup and the dresses hanging on the closet door. "We bought all this stuff."

"We'll wear the stuff. I'm just saying. I like you however. Just, you looking like you. You know that, right?"

El smiles softly, nodding.

Max gets to work. And while she works, her canvas is staring back at her, wheels clearly turning.

"What're you thinking about?" she finally has to ask.

"Trying to think how you would look if you looked different." El squints slightly. "But then.. you would look like someone else. And I would miss your face."

"No you wouldn't, 'cause then I never woulda had this face," Max answers, choosing a pinky gloss and starting to apply it to El's lips.

"Ohh.. yeah.." she whispers thoughtfully. "Then. I -"

"Hold still."

"Max."

"Shut up," she laughs, "you're making me mess it up. Don't smile."

But she is, all teeth, and now Max can't keep her hand steady, and it's impossible.

El reaches up and runs a finger along Max's eyebrow, and Max's laugh fades.

"I would like whatever face had you in it," El says, looking at each of her features and then the whole. "But I'm glad you are in my favorite one."

Max smiles, and El smiles at her smile and stretches up, wanting to kiss it.

"Wait, you're gonna-" Max holds up the gloss.

El twists around to look in the mirror. "You already messed it up."

"I??"

"You," she tugs on Max's shirt, bringing a laughing little kiss into reach.

"Oh, hey," Max looks at her lips, "strawberry."

#they'd be seniors in 89 and that movie came out in 90 so this is almost not an anachronism #sorry this took so long i had to stop in the middle of it and do a dissertation on what pretty means to el #elmax #ficlet #this forced me to actually consider what elmax dynamics would be and its come to my attention that I get aro vibes from both of them #so I can only picture them as like BFFs with one drop too much romance #fic #mine