Painting Forever
re-written by Indigo
original story by Rebekah
***
Maybe it's just the little part of him that knows why he paints. Mostly, on the surface, it's because he thinks painting makes him more of an intellectual. He hates being branded as the inarticulate, the dumb one, he HATES it, so aside from his sudden interest in wine, he's developed a thing for painting.
It's only the little part, the tiny part right inside him that knows WHY he paints. It's because of Lance. He just knows that it's because of Lance. The greens, the blondes, the pinks in his skin and the pale gold that's spread over his cheeks like stardust. The light in his eyes, the shifting sea-green and the rainy grey that cloud his vision; it's those colors that JC's trying to capture, every time, in every painting. He never feels like he's doing a good enough job of it, but he does it anyway.
It's because of Lance.
So now he's out on the porch on a sparkly Saturday morning, with Lance upstairs sleeping the morning away, and JC's feeling crazy-happy. This is the first time he's asked Lance to stay. When they agreed to take it slow, when Lance said he didn't want to be intimate with him till they were fully committed, he was okay with that. But he asked Lance to stay last night, and it was nice because they both got through it with all their clothes on, and all they did was hold each other. It was...nice.
Lance is feeling sort of heavy, like he always does when he wakes up in the morning. But he wakes all the way up and he remembers, he REMEMBERS, and suddenly he's not so heavy. He's the lightest he's ever been, like JC's done something to make his senses fly...
Nice. This is...nice. He's wearing an old shirt of JC's that has a screenprint of Boy George on the cover. Ah yes, the Culture Club phase was not to be missed in JC-Land. It's comfortable at least, if not altogether up to JC's usual flashy standards. The boxers are his, too. Normal blue plaid, thank whatever gods may be.
Lance finds himself at the bottom of the stairs, trying to find JC in the impossible labyrinth of sleepy wakefulness. He finds him out on the porch, squinting in the sunlight at a 2x5 canvas that's been propped up on his old wooden easel. His messy palette and his ridiculously expensive painter's beret are close at hand, and for the moment Lance can't get over how cute the whole picture is. It would make a good painting, he thinks.
JC looks up from his colors. "Lance," he says, startled. "You're up. Yey." And he walks over, and they kiss. Passionately.
"I'm up," Lance says. "And I'm hungry. You want anything?"
"No, just, you know, go on in without me. I'm gonna finish up here."
Lance shrugs, runs a hand through JC's hair and makes a face as he observes the weird bluish-silver streaks of paint on his fingers. "Uhh, Josh?"
"Hmm?"
"How the heck did you get paint in your HAIR?" He gives JC a look between amused and curious.
JC grins. "Sorry. I guess I get a little carried away when I paint. Your fault, you know."
Lance stops and stares for a moment. "MY fault? Why?"
"Because." JC tries not to look at Lance as he pretends to be looking at his painting. "I paint because...well, you make me want to create something beautiful."
Lance doesn't think anyone's ever said something as sweet as that to him before. He comes a little closer to JC and tilts his head, smiling. "That's sweet."
JC just shrugs, grins again, and goes back to painting. Lance tries to look over his shoulder, but JC hides the canvas with his thin body. "Nope, not yet."
"What? Why not??"
"You can't see it till it's done." JC has a defiant look about him.
Lance sighs. "Fiinne." He goes into the kitchen, and he's sipping his orange juice when JC comes inside.
"Wanna help me wash my hair?"
"Excuse me? I thought you said you wanted me to wash your hair."
"I did!" JC's bouncing cheerfully up and down, up and down. Lance hesitates for just a second before getting up and saying, "Let's go."
So now they're in the bathroom, and JC's got just his boxers on, and it's hard for Lance to concentrate on washing JC's hair when he's half-naked like that. "You want, uhm, you want me to condition it also?"
JC smiles. "Uh-huh." So Lance smoothes the conditioner in, and to get JC to leave it in for a while (which he always forgets to do) he kisses him...gently.
When they're done, JC leaves Lance to take a morning shower, and he goes back to his painting. It's almost noon by the time he's finished. Lance is inside, watching TV in the living room. JC peeks his head in and says, simply, "You can see it now."
Lance turns the TV off as he stands up, excited, nervous, wondering what this masterpiece is going to be like.
JC's turned it towards the swing door so that it's the first thing Lance sees when he gets outside. It's... beautiful. And JC, standing next to it, is even more so.
"What's it called?" he says softly, quietly.
"Forever." And somehow, Lance knows. He knows, just like that little part of JC knows...he paints because of HIM.
***
fiction