somewhatclear | Lipstick Stains

Rating: SAFE
Fandom: Overwatch
Relationship: Genji/McCree
Tags: Models/Makeup Artist AU, Genderfluid/Trans Genji Shimada, Makeup, Flirting, Resolved Sexual Tension, mentions of UST Gabe/Genji
Wordcount: 4796
Notes: written for the mcgenji au week

Summary:
Jesse McCree is a model, Genji is a makeup artist and photographer who picked him as his muse for his new collection of lipsticks.

Excerpt:

Jesse chuckled when those ridiculous pics started showing up on the screen. He agreed though, they were fun and eye-catching. The red pop of lipstick was still a shock every time he saw it, but there was something really nice about it. It made the pictures interesting, even though they were just different takes of his face. Also, for some reason how he looked in it was really starting to grow on him. “I can’t wait to see a six feet tall picture of me going cross eyed in the middle of Time Square. That oughta stop someone in their tracks.”

{ read on AO3 | read here }

It all started with a phone call.

Well, not really. But it had been a phone call that made it relevant.

“’scuse me, what?” Jesse asked groggily, rubbing his eyes, a migraine pulsing somewhere behind his brain. He wasn’t that old, but apparently he got to that point where he couldn’t get shitfaced without regretting being alive the next morning.

“I said,” Fareeha repeated with a huff, her voice slightly distorted through the speaker, “I don’t know what you said to Genji Shimada last night, but he wants you for his new advertisement campaign!”

Jesse, who was rummaging through the drawer in his bedside table, desperately looking for an aspirin, suddenly stopped, the name familiar. “Genji Shimada?”

He remembered a flash of green hair, a luminous smile and a sultry wink framed in warm eyeliner from the night before.

Did anyone ever tell you you have a pretty face?

A cough to clear his voice and his mind. “Advertisement campaign?”

“Yes! Gabriel just called me- apparently Genji reached him on his personal number, he’s that desperate.” There was a noise of nails tapping lightly against a hard light surface. “I was thinking, we could either move Rutledge’s thing in Montana to next week and see him on Friday, try and squeeze him between those two shoots on Thursday-” Jesse’s hand closed around the aspirin container and he sighed, shaking a pill on the palm of his hand and swallowing it dry as Fareeha kept rambling. “-of course, there’s also Wednesday. I’m pretty sure Gabriel intended for you to use his studio anywa-”

“No,” Jesse interrupted her, picking up the phone and bringing it to the kitchen. “I’m booking out on Wednesday.”

“I know but-”

“We have that event at Vishkar on Tuesday night, and I ain’t going on set hangover.”

Fareeha huffed. “You know, you could not drink for once-”

Jesse snorted. “Would you be able to get through that kinda thing sober?”

“…Okay, fair,” she conceded. Jesse barked a laughter while he poured himself a cup of water. “I could send a raincheck to Satya, I’m sure she will understand.”

Uh. That gave Jesse pause. ‘Fashionable but accessible’ was supposed to be part of his brand, so the agency usually insisted that he showed up for events to mingle as much as it booked him for photoshoots and catwalks- it was really out of character of them, to cancel on Vishkar like that. “I know Shimada’s a big deal but- that big a deal?”

“… I hope you’re kidding. This is the Genji Shimada we’re talking about. This could be your only chance to work with him, with the amount of shit he’s being booked for.” She sighed. “I know you and mom talked about this already, but-”

“Yeah, I don’t need to hear that shit again,” Jesse muttered, chugging the whole glass, wishing that it were something stronger than just water.

Since Gabriel ‘discovered’ him, he had been in high demand; something about his ruggedy looks had clicked with a certain big name fashion photographer, and suddenly everybody knew who he was, Jesse McCree, the hottest male model on the market. Every single photographer he had worked with had nothing but high praise for him; they told him that he had a talent for it, that he was a natural, that he looked so comfortable in his own skin that it made it all the easier to take gorgeous pictures; but nobody knew how long it was going to last. Ana had never beat around the bush: the fact that he wasn’t conventionally attractive, that he didn’t look like most of fashion model did these days, was his strength, but it could become his downfall any minute.

So he couldn’t afford to turn down a job. Especially if the client was Genji Shimada, the model-slash-make up artist-slash-photographer whose name was quickly becoming synonymous with fame and glory, and whose work people were starting to consider, together with his brother’s, the threshold between commonplace and artistic editorial modeling (nevermind the fact that, as far as Jesse was concerned, modeling was an art form in itself, qualifiers be damned).

He sighed, feeling his migraine coming back. “Book me for Wednesday.”

“You’ve worked with Shimada before, right?”

Gabriel snapped a couple pictures and frowned down at something on the camera’s screen, before glancing up at Jesse. “Sure. Which Shimada were we talking about, again?”

Jesse rolled his eyes, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt and rolling the sleeves up for the next pose. It was just a bunch of catalogue pictures, but Gabe liked capturing that kind of details. “Don’t be cute. I’ve got a shoot with Genji tomorrow, I want to know what to expect.”

“Genji, huh?” Gabriel asked, absently. He fiddled a little with the camera before pointing it back at him “Mmm, don’t sprawl like that. Can you give me- ah there we go,” Gabriel murmured, taking a few more pics. This time he squinted only briefly at the screen before a satisfied little grin touched his mouth. “And you’re asking me because...?”

“Well,” Jesse started, running a hand through his hair. “Ana told me you modeled for him once upon a time, so-”

Gabriel lowered the camera, shock on his face, rapidly turning to resignation. “Ana needs to learn to shut the fuck up,” he muttered. “Let’s take a break, everyone. Stretch your legs, get some coffee, whatever. Be back in ten,” he called out, putting down his equipment with a huff.

Jesse stood up and worked the kinks out of his knees before approaching Gabriel, who was refilling both their coffee mugs out of a slightly battered thermos he had pulled out of his bag.

“What did Ana tell you, exactly?” Gabriel asked.

Jesse shrugged and took a sip, grimacing at the taste. He always forgot that Gabriel’s tastes were exactly opposite his: bitter cold tea, sickeningly sweet coffee. “She just said you worked together, years ago. Why, is it a secret?”

Gabriel snorted. “There is no such thing as a ‘secret’ in this industry.” He sighed. “It’s not a secret, but it’s something that I don’t exactly advertise. People tend to forget I used to model, before the agency, and that’s how I like it.” He stopped to take a sip, eyes unfocusing briefly. “Genji... He borrowed some equipment, rented out the studio, asked me if I was up to model for a test shoot. It was a few years ago. We were just starting out with the agency- we weren’t desperate but the money looked really good, so I took the job.” He smiled at the memory. “I basically had to teach him how to do everything from the ground up, but he got the hang of it pretty quickly.”

Jesse made a surprised noise. “He’d never done a shoot before?”

“I don’t think so.” Gabriel drained his coffee and put his mug down. "As much as I like saying that having talent doesn’t mean shit, if you don’t work for it- sometimes people are just that special. Genji is charming, but he isn’t insincere. He effortlessly convinced me that he knew what he was doing, and he pulled it off. That shoot- it was supposed to be amateur work, but sure as shit doesn't look it. I’d like to take the credit for it, because I know how much easier it is to do a shoot with a model who can do their job but-” he shook his head. “That was all Genji. Seeing those pics almost made me want to quit before I even started building my career as a photographer. I knew it was only matter of time before he became a big name in the industry.”

"Well, shit,” Jesse commented, a little speechless. Who the hell was this guy?

“Relax.” Gabriel grabbed his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “I know he sounds like a big deal, but you can take him. You're one of the best models I've ever worked with, you’ll be fine. I can’t wait to see the prints, I bet it's gonna be great.”

“If you say so,” Jesse muttered.

“I know so. Anyway, time's up. Let’s go back to work.”

II.

Falling asleep that night had been a struggle, and even the little sleep Jesse had managed to get had been restless and filled with vague half dreams, leaving him exhausted and groggy; but Jesse was a professional, so on Wednesday morning he was climbing the stairs that took to Gabriel’s studio, phone in one hand and the biggest cup of coffee that money could buy in the other.

The caffeine was probably a bad idea - the restlessness from the night had dragged on into the morning, and he felt fidgety and nervous as it was, even if he hadn't taken even a sip yet - but he didn’t care; Wednesday was supposed to be his day off, and if he wanted to treat himself to a giant cup of coffee there was no force in the universe that could stop him from getting one.

Fareeha, the picture of professionalism and fashion in her blue tailleur with gold accents, was a few steps ahead of him, her heels clicking loudly on the polished wood. “Gabriel just texted me,” she called out, tapping at her phone while she switched ramps.

“What does he want?”

“He says, and I quote, ‘We’re ready for you. Tell McCree not to piss his pants, Genji doesn’t bite.’ What, are you scared? This is news to me.” She sounded intrigued.

Jesse didn’t have the energy to deal with her; he cut the chase very quickly as they reached the studio’s door. “I almost picked him up at that party before I knew who the hell he was, an’ since ya told me about the job I've been gettin’ cold feet about the whole thing, you happy now?” he rambled, the half-lie heavy on his tongue. Fareeha didn’t need to know about his insecurities, about his fear that one day someone was going to look at his book, wonder how someone like him could become an editorial model, and point out that Gabriel had made a mistake.

“Jesse, you dog!” Fareeha gasped, a glint in her eyes, swatting at him.

“I said almost,” Jesse defended himself with a grin. “He probably didn’t realize I was coming onto him.” Suddenly he realized how much of a mess that could’ve been, and frowned. “Hell, I hope he didn’t realize I was coming onto him- talk about awkward first impressions.”

“Well, whatever you told him, it caught his attention all right,” she laughed. She gently punched him in the shoulder, friendly and encouraging. “Come on, Jesse! I’m sure you’ll be great.”

He was a fraud. “Sure,” he muttered, while she pushed open the door.

Gabriel’s studio was a huge open plan ex-apartment that used to be a ballet studio, with large arching windows, exposed brick walls and beautiful hardwood floors. Heavy dark curtains covered the mirrors mounted on the wall, but they were still there from the studio’s ballet days. Gabriel usually liked to work with natural light, but today more curtains were pulled over the windows and a bunch of lights were set around a black and dull red ottoman pushed in a corner.

“Where is everyone?” Jesse muttered, stepping further in the room.

In his experience, fashion shoots could become really messy affairs. He expected multiple photographers, stylists, makeup artists, tech guys, more models milling around, giant piles of clothes scattered around the designed dressing-room corner from which only a handful of outfits were destined to be picked, a bunch of vague directions, a non-existent lunch break and weird bruises on his legs and on his back- but aside from Fareeha and himself, only five more people were present in the room: he spotted Gabriel and his assistant Lena in a corner next to the coffee machine, talking to a short, stocky man with a undercut and a topknot; Genji, absolutely unmistakeable with his bright green hair, was half sprawled on the ottoman and gesturing about something to a thin man in a tangerine and rich red outfit.

“Hanzo told me they like to work on a small scale,” Fareeha stage-whispered while Topknot walked closer. “They’re shooting for a single product today so you’re the only model on set- didn’t you read the file I sent you?” she hissed with a frown before turning on her press smile. “Mr. Shimada! Thank you so much for having us.”

Jesse tuned out Mr. Shimada’s answer when he noticed Genji and his tangerine-clad companion coming towards them, a big, excited smile on his face.

Somehow, Jesse had missed the memo that he was going to advertise a tube of lipstick.

He did his best not the let the surprise show on his face while Genji walked him to the makeup corner. He apparently had been wanted to work with him since Gabriel had showed him some pics of Jesse’s first shoot, but then he met him at that party and couldn’t wait anymore.

Genji was exactly as distracting as Jesse remembered him; he was wearing a cropped pale green sweatshirt with a wide neckline, frayed at the edges, which left his collarbones and midsection bare, and a pair of tight black jeans that clung to his legs like a second skin. His hands were gentle but very present, as he combed through Jesse’s hair to tie them back, as he brushed against his beard checking the trim, as he touched his face to feel his bone structure with his fingers. His grey eyes were framed in black and a dull green ink this time, strangely understated and all the more intense for it.

They chatted about coffee and New York’s weather while Genji worked. "You don’t really need anything more than a bit of primer to smooth everything out, a little foundation and a concealer for those dark circles, and maybe a touch of eyeshadow,” he told Jesse, smoothing out products over his skin. The touch was almost comforting in its lightness, and Jesse felt himself imperceptibly relax under Genji’s ministrations.

He almost forgot about the lipstick until Genji presented the small tube with a flourish. “Here it is,” he told him, uncapping it. “The main event.”

Jesse wasn’t an expert, but he could appreciate its nice, rich color. It seemed pink at a first glance, but it was actually a dense, almost dull red. The same color as the ottoman in the corner.

“Open your mouth just a little.”

The glide of the stick on his lips felt nice, buttery soft and moisturizing. He watched Genji bite his lip just slightly as he applied the make up, eyes focused on his mouth with an intensity that made Jesse want to squirm. It was so difficult to keep still under that gaze.

When he was done, Genji took a step back, and sighed, satisfied. “It’s a difficult shade, but I knew you would look so pretty in it,” he said.

Pretty wasn't a word he was used to hear. Jesse never was a vain man, and even now that he literally sold his looks for money he didn’t actually care much for them. He knew he wasn't ugly- he’d been called handsome before, although in a rugged, rough way, but pretty? Ana had gotten him a whole new routine to keep his skin nice and in shape, but...

“Here, look for yourself,” Genji said, turning his chair so that Jesse was facing the mirror.

For a split second, Jesse was irrationally afraid, but then the moment passed. Jesse looked, and he saw himself. He didn't know what he had been expecting; his hair was still tied in a messy bun to keep it out of the way, he was wearing the same grey v-neck he had picked out that morning, but his skin looked smoother, healthier, nearly glowing with almost invisible specks of gold, and-

He licked his lips, and the vivid color stayed in place. Pretty.

“Well,” he said, watching his own mouth form the words. “I certainly didn't think I would've rocked this kind of look, but I can't say I mind.”

Genji beamed at him in the mirror, and Jesse smiled back.

The shoot turned out to be a lot of fun. Jesse's growing crush for Genji probably played a role in his enjoyment, but mostly he was genuinely interesting and fun to work with.

They only managed a couple of normal glamour shots, before Genji started goofing off, asking Jesse to make faces at the camera and trying to get him to laugh while he was trying to make a serious expression. Used to be treated like a glorified mannequin to showcase this and that collection of clothing, Jesse found the whole thing refreshing; he generally liked his job, because every photographer had its own method and its own vision, and he enjoyed being part of that process, but he rarely had fun while he was in the middle of it.

A few hours later they still needed to take the mid-figure and full figure shots, but Zenyatta, Genji’s tangerine-clad set designer, with the excuse of needing room to straighten up the set for the next shots, encouraged everyone to take a break and eat something. So now Jesse and Genji were sitting on Gabriel's ratty leather couch in the corner, scrolling through the pictures that had been taken that morning and sharing a plate of tiny ham sandwiches.

"I really don’t know how we’re going to choose, we only need a couple for the ad,” Genji sighed. “These are all great! I originally thought about- you know, some high fashion glamour shot... but I always forget how boring those are- you see them everywhere!”

“Simplicity sometimes is good,” Zenyatta reminded him, sitting next to Genji on the other side, apparently already done with fixing the set.

“I know,” Genji conceded. “But you know I like doing things differently. Oh, these looked really great too-” he turned a little the laptop so that Jesse could see the screen properly. In the picture, Jesse was giving an intense look to the camera, mouth slightly open and tongue peeking at the corner. It was sexier than he imagined, considering that Genji was full on goading him into laughter at the time. The pictures following were all of the same kind. “I love the hint of playful there- but again. Sexy look that stares right into your soul? It’s already been done.” He pulled the laptop back and kept scrolling. “I’d definitely pick among the more fun ones, don’t you agree?”

Jesse chuckled when those ridiculous pics started showing up on the screen. He agreed though, they were fun and eye-catching. The red pop of lipstick was still a shock every time he saw it, but there was something really nice about it. It made the pictures interesting, even though they were just different takes of his face. Also, for some reason how he looked in it was really starting to grow on him. “I can’t wait to see a six feet tall picture of me going cross eyed in the middle of Time Square. That oughta stop someone in their tracks.”

Genji laughed. “I know you’re joking but, really! What about this one, I literally caught you mid-sneeze...” he pulled it up on the screen, and all three dissolved in chuckles. “Okay, maybe this one is a bit too much- but we’re in the right direction, I think.”

"The shoot isn’t over yet,” Zenyatta reminded Genji. “We still have time.”

“I know, and you know I already have ideas for that.” Genji huffed, mock-offended. “Are you having doubts about my artistic vision, Zenyatta?”

“Oh dear, I would never,” Zenyatta answered, deadpan, taking a sip from his mug without even looking up at Genji. The whole display looked like an old injoke between them. They looked so comfortable around each other; Jesse wondered how long they’d been working together.

“Speaking of ‘artistic vision’... Can I ask you a question?”

Genji glanced at him, and smiled. “Of course. What is it?”

Jesse licked his lips, the waxy, buttery and at this point very familiar taste of lipstick briefly coating his tongue. “This is fun and all but, uh,” he interrupted himself, unsure on how to phrase it. He rubbed a hand through his beard, through his hair, nervous. Why him? “I’ve never seen anybody who wasn't a pretty lady do an ad for a lipstick.”

Something unreadable flashed in Genji's expression, but then he just smiled at him, early and bright as before. “Sometimes there are more interesting options than pretty ladies... like pretty gentlemen,” he said with a wink. “Don’t you agree?”

Jesse couldn’t help but laugh, feeling himself flush a little. Was Genji flirting? Jesse was quite a smooth talker but he wasn’t used to being called pretty- though he found he didn’t mind. There was an odd power to the word, a liquid confidence that filled his limbs every time it rolled off Genji’s tongue. Jesse didn't know what to make of it. “That's flattering,” he admitted. Despite catching the strange shadow in Genji’s eyes, he decided to keep going. “But what I meant is-”

“You're wondering why I picked an extremely popular, extremely masculine, unconventionally attractive male model to advertise a new line of make up of all things,” Genji finished for him. He was still smiling but his voice sounded a little duller, f a lot less teasing than before. Bitter, like someone had come up with that argument before, over and over, and he was tired of having it.

“Genji,” Zenyatta said, the single word spoken with a quiet, careful tone. “You didn't explain anything to Jesse before the shoot?”

An embarrassed cough. “Well-”

“I do not need to hear that bullshit about spontaneity again, Genji,” Zenyatta interrupted him, flatly, grabbing the thermos that rested on the small table before them and refilling their mugs.

Genji flushed red, sheepish like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and Jesse laughed at him even as his heart made flips in his chest.

“So, how was working with Genji?” Gabriel wanted to know later that night, in front of a pint of beer. They had closed shop pretty late, and someone had proposed to go out for drinks afterwards, so now they were all piled in the pub in front of the studio, getting politely sloshed.

Jesse glanced at Genji, who was ordering something at the bar and laughing at something his brother had said, safely out of hearing range. “It was... personal.”

Especially the afternoon takes. After Genji had told him what he had envisioned for the shoot. Jesse had been right about it being purposefully controversial - a masculine man wearing makeup wasn’t something you usually saw on a Vogue magazine - but when he had asked about it, he hadn’t expected Genji to tell him about his journey through transition and gender expression.

Gabriel smiled, and it was the softest expression Jesse had ever seen on his face. “I knew you were going to say that. Genji does that- he pours himself into his work. It’s not immediately apparent now - I guess practice helped him getting more subtle about it - but when I worked with him- did I ever tell you what kind of shoot that was?”

Jesse shook his head, sipping at his beer.

“It was a nude photoshoot. Mind you-” he said quickly, noticing Jesse’s surprised expression. “It was not supposed to be a nude photoshoot. If I had been working with my old agency it would've never happened- I had a veto on nudes. But anyway, that’s not the point.” He waved it off. “The point is- there is nothing sexual about those pictures, Jesse. Absolutely nothing. But they're absolutely dripping with this feeling, this desire.” Again that smile. “He had just started T back then, he was an awkward, gangly kid. When you have all the pieces it’s easy to put it together.”

Jesse nodded, and slipped his hand in his pocket, wrapping his fingers around the tube of lipstick that Genji had insisted he kept, small and unassuming. “A beauty that is not about gender but about being comfortable in your own skin,” he murmured, quoting what Genji had told him earlier, a shine in his eyes, hands flying as he talked. He had taken Jesse’s brand and he had made it something else entirely. “Wearing lipstick like a weapon, because it leaves a mark in people's mind and on people’s things.” A stain of coral pink on white porcelain. The lip of the mug, in reality. The expanse of Genji’s white neck, in Jesse’s mind.

"I initially had the idea of ‘lipstick as war paint’, striping a bunch of models’ cheeks with it- but I’m really glad I went with the other thing, instead,” Genji's voice said suddenly from behind Jesse, pulling him from his thoughts. He squeezed himself between their seats, briefly squeezing Jesse’s thigh under the table with a smile. “So, what did I miss?”

III.

He doesn’t even remember what he said to make him laugh, but it worked. The guy is cute, flirty, and he’s been leaning in Jesse’s space for a while now. He hides his smirk behind his glass and looks at him with heat in his eyes. Jesse thought they were black, but they actually shift in the light to a warm, strange grey, like his eyeshadow goes from purple to green with every wink. Jesse is carefully not drunk, but he would ask him to go back to his hotel, if his tongue didn't stick to the roof of his mouth every time he tries to say the words-

“You’re really pretty, you know?” he says, and kinda regrets it. Pretty is a weird word to say to a guy, isn’t it? “I mean, you’re really interesting.” Jesse is not that drunk, but he's touching his face and his lips, and the easy confidence with which the guy just smiles and lets him is driving him mad.

“Jesse!” Fareeha's voice trills behind him, and he drops his hand like he’s been burned. She quickly walks up to him, champagne sloshing dangerously in the half empty flute she's holding in her hand and gesturing with. “I see you met mr. Shimada!”

“Genji Shimada?” Jesse croaks, and takes in the green hair, the purple/green wink, the heated grey looks.

“Very nice to meet you,” Genji says, and takes another sip from his glass.

Jesse’s stomach flips.

Nobody was looking at him, which was a relief.

Jesse licked his lips and grimaced at the familiar, waxy taste of the lipstick. It had seemed like a good idea while he was getting dressed to go out- it had seemed like a good idea while Genji was telling him on the phone that he had received a few prints and they looked amazing and he wanted Jesse to come over and see them. He’d needed a little courage - a little confidence. He couldn't stop thinking about Genji's words about confidence and power. But now that he was out in the streets he didn’t know what to do of it.

He briskly walked to Genji's address, hat low on his brow, collar pulled up high against the wind and the stray looks, feeling a little ashamed and also a little dangerous- what a stupid thought. It was just lipstick. Harmless and barely noticeable, especially in New York.

He got buzzed in Genji’s place and the doorman didn't even look at him. The elevator was empty and his own reflection stared at him nervously. Maybe Jesse had read him wrong. Maybe the prints weren’t an excuse, and Genji was actually doing him a favour and show them to him in advance because he was nice like that. The lipstick tasted like expectations.

He checked the time on his phone, afraid of being too early (too eager, too nervous) and while he did the elevator pinged, and Genji's was right outside, the door of his apartment open and welcoming. He was wearing a pale, soft-looking knitted sweatshirt, black shorts and nothing else, barefoot on the dark doormat, lime green nail polish winking in contrast on his toes.

As he stepped in the apartment, Jesse watched Genji's face morph into delighted surprise while he took him in, a breathless gasp escaping his mouth. “You wore it again!”

Jesse bit his lip. “I did. How does it look?”

“Delectable,” Genji said, and he sounded utterly sincere. A wolfish grin appeared on his mouth, as he said, “I can’t wait to mess it up.”

Jesse smiled and closed the door behind him.