Long overdue bit of straight-up Hartemis. They're going to a posh LEP dinner or summat... who cares?

This was inspired by my house mate TRYING to teach me how to do 'smokey eyes'. Emphasis on SHE TRIED. I know sod all about make up and less about dress alteration - I'll just put that out there and apologise now. Yeah, anyway, there's nowt going on between my house mate and me but I did realise just how... intimate it is to have someone applying your make up - and yeah, this was born!

Enjoy folks :)

Disclaimer - I don't own Artemis Fowl! (haven't said it in a while - felt I should reiterate)

WARNING - THERE'S A SINGLE USE OF AN EXPLETIVE IN THIS! WON'T GIVE TOO MUCH AWAY, BUT IT INVOLVES THE LETTERS 'U', 'C', 'F' AND 'K'.

Made Up

"So… what do you think?"

Artemis laid his tablet down on his lap. Holly Short was stood in the door of her bedroom holding sheepishly to the skirts of a full-length, sleeveless, sky-blue evening gown.

"Well?" she prompted, swishing the material slightly. "Lily Frond leant it to me. It's a little… baggy about the bust area but I've padded it out a bit and I think it's fine… I think. What do you think?"

The teenager tapped a finger ponderingly against his lips. "It's good," he said eventually. "It is… Yes, it is quite adequate."

"Adequate?" repeated Holly. She let the skirt fall. "I'm not looking for a major ego stroke here Artemis but quite adequate?"

"For a dress that clearly doesn't fit you, in a colour that is far too summer for the autumn of your skin tone, it is… yes. Adequate."

The elf glared at him, turned tail, and strode back into her room. The sound of wardrobe doors banging open soon followed.

"Well I don't have anything else!"

Artemis sighed and got up from the sofa.

"I don't do formal occasions," she ranted riffling through her closet just as he was ducking through the doorway. "I just work. And occasionally I'll go for a coffee with friends. And sometimes I'll go dancing in which case I'll just wear what I would wear to go for coffee just with more eyeliner–"

"Did you do your own make up?"

She turned on him. "Have you seen anyone sneak in here? Yes, I did my own make up."

"Sit down."

"What?"

"Come. Sit down."

She banged the wardrobe doors closed. He stepped graciously aside to let her pass before taking her place at the closet.

"What about this?" he asked as she flumped down onto the bed, reaching into the wardrobe and holding out a burnt-orange number that sparkled slightly in the light from the bedside lamp.

"I wore that twenty years ago at the last awards thingy," she said grumpily. "Everyone's seen it already but… I guess that doesn't really matter. It's only a stupid –"

But Artemis had already thrust it back. "No. There are no repeats when it comes to public fashion."

Holly cocked an eyebrow. He pulled out a second dress, purple with streaks of green winding about the corset.

"And what is this?" he demanded, half-laughing.

She folded her arms. "It was the eighties. Everyone dressed like that…"

He shook his head and dropped it to the floor.

"Hey!" she protested.

"Leave it."

This is typical, she thought, sitting back up on the bed as he continued to flick through her clothes. There's a twenty-year-old human going through my closet deciding which dress would look best on me. Artemis Fowl is going through my closet deciding which dress would look best on me… How did this become normality?

You know how you got to this, said a stern voice from the back of her head.

Yeah, I got kidnapped, friendship blossomed, blah blah blah…

Friendship? repeated the voice.

"A-ha!" cried Artemis suddenly, diverting her attention. "What about this?"

Holly's nose wrinkled. He was holding up a long-sleeved, scoop-necked, knee-length black dress.

"It's just a little… boring," she said. "I wore it as a teenager for college. It's decades old."

The teenager closed the wardrobe. "Put it on."

"Artemis, really–"

But he had already tossed it towards her, sweeping out of the room and closing the door behind him.

"Artemis!" she shouted after him. "This isn't formal enough! Lily's dress will be fine! Stuff my autumn skin tone, I'll just–"

"Trust me, Holly!"

The elf glared after him for a moment more before huffing and standing to unzip the side of her gown.

"Stupid Mud Boy," she seethed, pulling at the silk. "You were fine. You looked fine. So he said you looked adequate? So what? He'd call the Elgin Marbles 'adequate'. Why should it matter…?"

Friendship? said the voice again.

Alright!" she snapped. "I'm in it."

The door opened slowly. Artemis scanned her from the doorway, his hawk-like gaze roving from bare toes to neckline. Holly was unimpressed.

"You see?" she said, flapping at the fading skirt. "Dowdy. Boring. Can I get back in Lily's dress now?"

He twirled a finger.

"Face the other way."

Holly felt his hand touch lightly to her back and she was swizzled gently but forcefully towards the mirror set into her closet door. She could see him stood over her shoulder, tall and perfectly turned-out in his crisp tuxedo. She could feel him too, the subtle heat causing the hairs to rise up on the back of her neck.

"Do you hold any sentiment for this dress?" he asked softly.

Holly frowned. "Well, not–" she started before he had gripped the material at her shoulder and yanked down.

The seams snapped easily beneath the sudden pressure and he stripped the whole sleeve down and quickly away from her arm. Holly's jaw dropped.

"Artemis!" she semi-screamed.

He dropped the material to the ground.

"What–? What–?" Her mouth was opening and closing, staring wide eyed at her now bare arm.

"Do not move."

Of course she did the opposite. But not before he had slipped the blade of a pair of scissors, her kitchen scissors, beneath the seam at her right shoulder and cut.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, her back slamming into her bedroom wall, hands rushing up to secure the falling front of her dress.

Artemis surveyed her coolly. "Making adjustments."

"With scissors? "

"I would not have hurt you. I have not hurt you."

Holly just stared at him.

"Get out," she said, striding towards the bed. "Leave so I can put on Lily's dress and I can go to the ceremony. You can make your own way there."

"Holly–"

"I mean it."

Artemis sighed. "I shall put down the scissors."

She snatched the handle out of his hand. "Artemis, leave."

"I am sorry. Alright? I should have told you what I was planning to do."

She spun him, put both her palms flat to the small of his back and drove him from the room.

"Holly–"

The bedroom door slammed behind him. He turned, sighed and rested his forehead against it.

"Holly?"

There were scuffles from inside the room. Angry scuffles. The twenty-year-old rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

How many times must we do this?

"Holly, please..."

He heard only more bangs and the unmistakable sound of muttering. Artemis closed his eyes and knocked his head once against the faux wood. Then the door opened and he nearly fell onto the elf stood, fuming, in the frame.

"Get in here," she growled, "before I change my mind."

And he was yanked inside by the front of his shirt. He was just straightening it again as she shut the door. She was dressed only in her underwear now; a black basque and dark tights.

Holly put her hands on her hips. "You've got it in my head now," she said.

Artemis looked at her. "Got what in your head?"

"The autumn of my skin tone. How Lily's dress patently doesn't fit me."

"Well, it doesn't."

She pursed her lips and grabbed the old, newly ripped, college dress up from the bed.

"What were you going to do with this?"

He tried not to smile. "Do you trust me?"

She held out the dress and without another word he took it. Her dressing chair squeaked a little as he pulled it out to sit at her dresser. He picked up the scissors again and she took her place on the bed. Artemis held the ripped sleeve up to the lamp light for a moment, scrutinizing it…then the dress was thrust back down and the blades flashed. Holly clasped her knees.

"So. Is dressmaking just another one of your many talents?"

Artemis flipped the material over.

"Quantum physics, computer hacking… and tailoring?"

He cut up the side of the skirt.

"I have many talents you are yet to discover," he said. "This is merely one of them."

He glanced at her in the mirror.

Holly frowned.

He stood swiftly from the dresser.

"Here, put it back on."

She slid from the bed and raised her arms. He dropped the dress over them and allowed gravity to pull the rest into place. Holly helped a little at the hips, yanking at the shortened skirt until it came to rest mid-way up her thighs. The shoulder was still falling free.

"Artemis–"

"I have the solution."

He had shot one of his cuffs and twisted a silver, studded cufflink from its home.

"Turn around."

She put her back to him, facing the wardrobe mirror, and felt his heat once more as he pulled the dress into place across her chest and up to her left shoulder. Pinching the thin material at the front and the back he pierced the sheets with his cufflink and secured them.

"There," he said, laying his hands briefly on her shoulders.

Holly met the eyes of his reflection.

"Make up," he said, staring into the brown and blue. "Where do you keep it?"

She pointed wordlessly to a dresser drawer. He moved away to open it and Holly released a quiet breath.

"You're being very domestic tonight," she said, pulling consciously at her altered dress.

Artemis was snapping open various tubes and tubs, checking to see what they contained.

"I just like things to look their best."

"Things?"

"Close your eyes."

"Why?"

"I'm going to help you."

She stared at him, wary.

"Holly…"

She released another quiet breath and did as he had requested. The bed shifted beneath her, rocked slightly, and she knew he had mounted it with his knee. Then something wet and paste-like was pressed into the inside corner of her left eye taking her by surprise. She flinched.

"Have you done this before?" she asked, disgruntled, her heart slowly calming.

He re-stocked the brush and moved to her right eye, stroking away the shadows. Carefully. Gently.

"I have."

He flicked once, twice at the edges of her eyelashes before Holly heard something being snapped shut. She opened one eye.

"Where? When?"

"Boarding school. Close your eyes."

"But didn't you go to an all-boys school?"

"Close your eyes."

She acquiesced. And something unmistakably powdery was dusted over the whole of her face. She fought the urge to cough. Soft bristles swept briefly across her cheekbones, under her jaw, brushed over her chest… Something was snapped shut again.

"Did you use to do the other boys' makeup?"

"Only the ones I liked."

Holly did open her mouth then, when she felt something small press over her left eyelid.

"Did you do shows for each other?" she asked as he stroked, caressed.

"On special Sundays."

"Special Sundays?"

"Don't smile, your eyes are clenching."

She released a low breath and forced her face to relax. She could felt the human's heat again, hear his own steadying breaths just inches from her… Her hands tightened slightly in her lap.

"You need some new cosmetics," he said softly, moving to her right eye. "Some of these are decades old."

"I hardly use them. I can't wear makeup on duty, remember?"

"Off duty?"

"Too much effort."

He sighed. "You don't have the appropriate brushes for this part so I am going to have to use my finger."

"As long as it's a clean one."

He didn't dignify that with an answer. And Holly's smile faltered as she felt his touch at the corner of her left eye. He was applying something soft and satiny, drawing it inside the curve of her eye-socket, following the bone with the edge of what must be his smallest finger.

"Tell me if I am hurting you," he said quietly.

"You're not," she replied.

He stopped half-way along the bone, his hand just grazing her eyelashes, before brushing the powder gently outwards towards her brow bone with the pad of a different finger. Holly was frozen in her seat. Every nerve in her body seemed to have migrated to where his fingers were working. His touch had turned electric, charged…

"So these shows," she said. "Did you enjoy them?"

He hand stroked briefly against her cheek, whether by accident she couldn't know.

"Immensely."

"What… what did they involve?"

She heard him withdraw; one cap was closed and another was opened.

"Oh, the usual. Cabaret. A little light burlesque."

"Burlesque?"

"You're clenching again."

"Sorry."

Another finger swept just below her right eyebrow. It seemed he had decided to abandon brushes completely now.

"And what role did you play? Or were you only on costume and make up?"

His finger skimmed beneath her left brow.

"I would tread the boards occasionally."

"On the very special Sundays?"

"How did you guess?"

She laughed before forcing her face straight again. He was dabbing at the corners of her eyes now, quickly, expertly. Something else was snapped shut.

"What was your stage name?"

"Patricia."

"That's boring."

"You haven't seen the act."

"Will you show me? Next very special Sunday?"

"Perhaps." Her chair creaked as she felt him lean his hand on the arm. "I'm going to do your eyeliner. You have to stay very still or else I shall just draw up your face."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Is that a threat?"

"A promise. Now remain… very still."

She did as she was bid, returning to a slightly-amused statue in her chair.

Then his heat leaned over her. She felt the heel of his hand stroke against her dry lips. The brush was miniscule, but he seemed to be handling it, beginning topaint agonisingly slowly along the very lip of her eyelid. Holly could feel the slight tremor in his hand; it was advancing along with the wetness, the coolness of it clashing with the rising heat in her cheeks.

The brush flicked slightly at the edge of her eye.

"I'm sorry," said Artemis quietly. "I know this must be uncomfortable for you. I am almost done…"

She wanted to say something but that would mean moving. The brush stroked at the edge of her other eye…

Her hands gripped the chair rests, her knees pressed tightly together.

Focus on the weird. Focus on the weird.

"Done," he said, standing straight again, "but do not open your eyes."

She relaxed. "Why?"

"It needs to dry. Now, open your mouth."

Holly almost choked on thin air.

"Your lipstick," he said quickly.

Now Holly could definitely do her own lipstick. All this 'precision' eye work perhaps not… but lipstick? She knew it and he knew and yet… she said nothing.

His index finger crooked under her chin, drawing her face upwards.

"Open your mouth," he said again.

She did as she was told and felt another brush against lips, slick and glossy this time. She tried to keep her breathing shallow as he painted but it was nigh impossible. He traced the edge of her mouth, his finger still pressed to her chin, keeping her face steady. She could feel the eyeliner drying, tightening the skin of her eyelid. She breathed out…

The fingers retreated.

"Alright," he said softly.

She opened her eyes and was met with the smooth back of his tuxedo. He was putting her things back away in the dresser drawer. Holly got out of her chair.

Whoa, was her first thought. She leant closer to the glass of the mirror, raising both her eyebrows.

"Here." He pressed a small tube into her hand from behind. "Zig zag the brush," he advised, walking back towards the bed. "It makes for better lash coverage."

Holly snorted. "You sound like an advert."

"I helped write some of them. Cosmetics are a highly lucrative market."

She closed the tube with a snap.

"There," he murmured. "Perfect."

Their eyes met once more in the mirror.

"We'll be late," said Holly, "if we don't set out soon."

Artemis agreed. "We shall."

Neither made an effort to move.

D'arvit.

Holly finally looked away, her expression tight, strained. She walked to her dresser and slammed the mascara back into its drawer.

"What about blusher?" she demanded to the fake wood. "Won't I need that?"

"The room will be warm," he said from the bed, "and your face has enough definition as it is."

"Lip coat?"

"Take the lipstick with you and reapply when you need to."

"Right. Right, okay."

He stood up.

"Holly–"

"I'll call a taxi," she said, stooping to grab her heels from just under the wardrobe. "I'm not taking The Stick in these things."

"Holly–"

"Have you seen my bag? Did I leave it in the living room?"

"It's on the armchair."

"Right."

She brushed past him on the way out. Artemis's frown deepened.

He walked in on her just as she was fishing out her keys.

"You ready?" she asked briskly, closing her bag. "We'll have a load of traffic to get through to the temple."

"Holly, stop."

"I've got the fare, so don't worry about cash. Not that you ever do–"

Then she noticed the unravelled bow tie in the human's hand.

"What are you doing?"

He stepped forward.

"Artemis–" She held up her hands, her key chain still looped over her ring finger.

"Turn around."

"Artemis–"

His mouth had twisted, his brow creased as if he were somehow disappointed with her.

"Please," he said curtly.

Holly relented. He stepped up behind her and for one, stupid moment she thought he was going to blindfold her... but then the silk passed over and below her arms, looping as a belt just above her hips. He fastened it at her spine.

"Now you have a waist," he said in her ear.

She turned back to him. He was wearing that same look again.

"Artemis–"

"What?"

Her eyes narrowed witheringly.

"Don't talk to me like that. You're not a child anymore; you don't have an excuse."

"No, I don't. And thus neither do you."

There was a silence.

"Right," said Holly flatly. "Right. Of course."

"What?"

"Fuck's sake, Artemis," she said with a sigh. "You have, as usual, decided to breach things at precisely the wrong–"

"Why are you angry?"

She tucked her clutch beneath her arm. "We're going to be late, okay? Can we just leave here and go?"

"Don't you think we have something to discuss?"

She stared at him for a second. Then she dropped her bag to the sofa.

"Okay. I'm here." She folded her arms. "What do you want to discuss?"

He simply looked at her for a second, seemingly confused. It was a strange sight, a strange moment, and Holly waited patiently for it to end.

"You… you love me," he said.

Holly nodded as if she were a professor acknowledging a student's point.

"Well…" He threw up a hand. "Well shouldn't that just be it, Holly?"

"No," she said sharply, actually jabbing her finger in her direction. "No, it shouldn't be. You don't have the first clue about what this should be."

The human's expression darkened.

"You've never been in love before, Artemis. I have. I've been in love, I've had affairs. I've loved someone, I've shared a bed, shared my life."

She looked at him.

"And what?" he blurted. "Your objection is because I am not… not experienced–?"

"You are my best friend."

"I am more than that."

She actually laughed.

"For Frond's sake, Artemis. I helped bring you back from the dead. I've saved your hide more times than you've had tins of Almas."

"My point exactly!"

"I just don't want to do this with you. Okay? End of."

Her words soured between them. She walked to the kitchen, pushed the heel of her palm into her forehead.

"I'm going to call the taxi," she called, overly loudly, trying to ignore the blaze of both fronts of emotion: hers and his. "Be ready to leave in ten."

She took her time placing the order before glancing once over her shoulder. He was still glaring at her. She was level with him for once; he stood in the dip in the room that constituted for her 'formal living space'. She could see he wasn't a child anymore. He was fully grown, a man. His blue eyes burned bright.

"You…" She searched for a subject, any subject. "You haven't done anything with my hair."

"I think it is a lost cause," he said flatly.

"Is it? Seriously?"

She raised her hands to do… something, trying to catch a glimpse of it in the polished steel of her toaster.

Do not look at him.

"It is far too late, Holly."

She fidgeted with a stray, cropped strand. "You think I can't do anything?"

"It is… it is beautiful as it is. It has always been beautiful."

She froze. She could just see the blob of him reflected back in the toaster.

"Are you sure?" she whispered.

"Trust me; I'm an ex cross-dresser."

She straightened with a snort with laughter. "Shut up, Artemis."

"Make me."

Her smile faltered.

She knew that she had arrived at one of those moments she was going to think about a lot in the future regardless of what her next move was going to be. If she said what was sensible, what her often-muted sense of propriety was telling her to say, then she would think about it most probably with pain… definitely with pain. If she said what had scuttered on the tip of her tongue a hundred times an adventure already then she would probably look back and cringe… but he would be there with her as her cheeks burnt… probably just making her feel worse...

"Are you sure?" she repeated quietly, forcefully. "Because this… this is the point of no return for me. If we do this… everything is going to change for us."

He stepped up towards her, his expression calm, contemplative.

She held up a hand. "Artemis, I mean it. This… this can't be a game. Not this time. You can't… you cannot play with this... with something this..."

He pressed his palm against hers.

"Artemis…."

"Your lipstick has smudged," he said lightly.

She frowned suddenly. "No, it–"

Yes, it had.

That ending is atrocious but... it's getting late now.

Review, please? :)

AND BY THE WAY - 202 REVIEWS FOR 13 CHAPTERS? WTF GUYS? Amazing - every single one of you. Thanks so much for all the lovely comments and encouragement - thanks so so much.

Holi

P.S. Artemis wasn't actually being serious when he was talking about being a cross-dresser as a teenager :P He was just flirting - making banter (from recent reviews, I think I haven't perhaps made that clear enough in the story...). The real reason he knows how to do make up is because he takes an active, supportive role in his oldest friend's alternative, weekend lifestyle as a drag queen. (Wolfy, you know it's true).