Short of a few marbles

    “Well, what the flying fuck am I supposed to do here?” Lambert mumbled under his breath, rubbing his forehead as he stared at the keyboard and the blank document on his screen. He had his quiet music playing, the lights weren’t too bright, he could just barely hear his partner bustling around in the kitchen preparing dinner, and yet-

    “Bah-shite!” Lambert huffed and pushed his rolling chair away from the desk. He had the time, the energy, the everything. Everything except the words. Nothing would come out, no matter how aggressively he squinted at his laptop. He put his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his palms. No one to blame but himself, he supposed. Why had he even taken this writing contract in the first place? Well, you see-

    A warm weight rested on his shoulder and a spiced-honey voice murmured low in Lambert’s ear. “Usually, you can’t just will the keyboard to type by itself, you know.”

    Lambert rolled his eyes and huffed as he sat up. “Yeah, Eskel, thanks. Hadn’t realized that I forgot to invest in the computer that writes the damned novel for me.”

    He spun around to face Eskel, mourning the loss of Eskel’s hand on his shoulder as soon as it fell back to his side. “Besides, not like the first draft is due in six weeks. No, no. No rush, not at all. Oh, no wait, I’ve gotten mixed up. The first draft is due in six weeks and I’ve got diddly-shit to show for it. So, if you’ll kindly leave me to wallow in my own self-pity, that’d be grand. Thanks, love ya. Toodaloo-”

    “Oh, no you don’t-” Eskel caught Lambert’s chair as he started spinning back around and handled him around from the back. He wheeled him briskly down the hall, away from the computer looming in the lamplight. “You’re going to sit and have a nice dinner with me and not think about your book. I made tomato soup and grilled cheese-”

    “Esk, it’s the middle of a fucking heat wave, why soup?”

    “And you’re not gonna bitch about how hot it is ‘cause we have a lovely aircon unit that makes it feel like a penguin’s paradise in here.” They’d arrived in the kitchen just as the timer over the stove gave a happy ding, and Eskel stopped at the table right next to Lambert’s usual chair. “Go on, budge over.”

    Lambert grumbled but obliged, scooching over onto the dark wooden chair with the ornate back that Geralt had made as part of their wedding present. Eskel sent his rolling chair careening back down the hallway where it unceremoniously bonked into the hall closet door. “Oi, gentle there-”

    “That chair has been to hell and back, one more ding against a door won’t kill it,” Eskel smirked as he ladled two hearty bowls of rich red soup before switching off the stove. He dropped off the two steaming bowls, spun back to the kitchen where he fumbled in a drawer for spoons that they both knew would go unused, and grabbed the plate of grilled cheese. Lambert’s mouth watered as the plate hit the table, piled high with already-cut triangles that oozed yellow and white rivers of molten gooeyness. Eskel sat in the chair next to Lambert and gently bumped his shoulder with his own. “Go on, you’ve got first pick.”

    Lambert sighed and tried to push the nagging thoughts of failure from his head. Easier said than done. He reached for the triangle right beneath the one on top, that had caught all of the melted cheese from the one above it. He messily dipped it into his bowl, scooping a generous bite into his mouth. “AHh-fuhdashawt-” 

    “Careful,” Eskel shook his head with a smile, blowing on his own grilled cheese-spoon hybrid, “‘s hot.”

    Lambert gasped and swallowed, taking a long gulp of ice water. “Yeah, yup. Got it. Gonna let it cool a bit.”

    “Mhm,” Eskel chuckled around the bite in his mouth, dabbing his chin with a napkin on the side where his scar cut a notch in his lip. Soup tended to escape quite easily. 

    They ate in relative silence for a while, just as normal. Neither of them cared much for small talk, especially when they both knew that bigger things were on their minds. As Eskel dragged the last bite of his sandwich through the dregs left in the bottom of his bowl, he cleared his throat. “So, why’re you stuck?”

    Lambert rolled his eyes at himself and stuck his own last bite into his mouth, licking the stray soup that was on his thumb. “I’ve only got six weeks left and-”

    “Nuh-uh,” Eskel shook his head and sat back, resting his hand on Lambert’s thigh. “I asked why you’re stuck, not why you’re psyching yourself out about it.”

    Rolling his neck, Lambert pushed his bowl away from the edge of the table and rested his arms at the edge. “I just…I dunno. I feel…out of practice? If that makes sense?”

    Eskel nodded his head, gently squeezing his hand on Lambert’s thigh. “I think it does, but tell me more.”

    “Like, it’s too big of a project to try right out of the gate. And my stupid brain is like ‘But, if we never start it at all, we don’t have to worry about finishing it!’ Which, as it turns out, is not helpful.”

    “First of all,” Eskel raised an eyebrow and sat up, “your brain’s not stupid. Your brain is tired and overwhelmed. And that’s okay. You beating yourself up about it isn’t going to be helpful either.”

    “Yeah, I know,” Lambert murmured, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand. “Sometimes I don’t even realize I’m doing it until it’s too late and I’m losing it.”

    “And that’s what I’m here for,” Eskel whispered gently, leaning closer to Lambert. “I can see when it’s too much and when you’re getting caught up in your own head, and I make soup and grilled cheese and forcibly remove you from your office ‘cause you’ll drive yourself bonkers in there. And then you can go back when you have your head clear. Right?”

    Lambert laughed. “Yeah, you do. You’re a godsend, Eskel, you know that?”

    Eskel shrugged. “Nah, Lamb. I just love you. That’s all.”

Eskel sat back and sighed. On the table before him sat his canvas, blank, atop the easel that Geralt had made for him. It had been a birthday present, and even had a little cup holder attached so that Eskel could stick his paint water there (and not accidentally drink it…again.)

It was peaceful, painting. Eskel liked looking up photos of places that he longed to visit and paint them. It occupied his mind and allowed it to be quiet for a bit at a time.

Some days though, he just couldn’t find the inspiration.

Lambert, on the other hand, was…conflicted. He knew that Eskel had been struggling with separating his work from his personal life, and painting had helped. A lot. But fuck was it boring. He could only look at so many grassy pastures before he’d start seeing them in his dreams.

And then it hit him.

With a cup of coffee.

Well, kinda. He’d been at the little coffee shop down the street from his tattoo parlor when a man ran into him and dropped his iced mocha extra espresso drip whatever-the-fuck directly onto the center of Lambert’s crotch.

The mostly empty cup hit the floor, along with the armful of flyers and a stapler that the man had been trying (and, apparently, failing) to juggle in his grasp. Lambert huffed and took a deep breath. Not his fault. Not his fault. In for four, out for seven. His therapist would be proud. “You alright?”

“Oh, gods be damned. I’m so so sorry, fuck-” He scrambled across the table that Lambert had been enjoying his smoothie at, pawing at napkins and dropping them into Lambert’s lap. He almost reached out to start patting him down, though his eyes widened as he thought better of that.

“Really, ‘s fine,” Lambert forced a smile and made his voice just a bit nicer than a grumble. “Here, let me buy you a new one.”

The younger man had laughed, bringing Lambert to pause. He took him in. Late twenties. Artsy. Clearly not heterosexual. Pretty blue eyes to go with that pretty voice. Fuck. “You know, you don’t look like the type to apologize for someone else spilling soup in your lap.”

Lambert shrugged. “Therapy. I’m trying.”

The man smiled. Fuck, he even has a nice smile. “Aren’t we all? Don’t worry about the coffee, I think I’m jittery enough as it is. I have to be off anyways, I have three more blocks’ worth of places to hang these.”

“Suit yourself,” Lambert dabbed at his pants with the napkins. Luckily they were already black jeans. “Careful going into that knife shop on 3rd. Don’t want to drop any more merchandise.”

And that was how Lambert ended up grabbing one of the tear-off tabs from the flyer the man left behind and going to the website listed. It was an art studio a few blocks over, and they offered a whole variety of classes. The one that caught Lambert’s eye, though, was called ‘Painting Outside Of The Canvas.’

A few clicks later and Eskel was all signed up. Then, all Lambert had to do was convince him to actually go.

It didn’t take much. Lambert had already paid the fee (which was going straight to the local youth arts center, all of the class teachers were volunteers,) and had agreed to take Eskel to that fancy craft beer bar that charged way too much for a pretzel with beer cheese.

“Oh, c’mon. The pretzel’s bigger than your head.”

“But it’s a pretzel, it shouldn’t cost as much as a cat sweater on Etsy.”

Eskel rolled his eyes good-naturedly, though he felt his stomach roll with nerves. He’d never actually shared any of his work outside of his family, and this was just a bit outside of his comfort zone.

Ah, fuck it.

Eskel quit his staring at the empty canvas and pushed himself up out of his chair. He stretched tall, elongating his arms high above his head and leaning backwards. His back popped, just once, and he sighed with a smile and slowly relaxed his arms back down. He padded into his bedroom and debated on what to wear. It would be a room full of strangers, and he really didn’t want to draw more attention to himself. The scars on his face already brought too many stares.

He crossed his arms. If he was being honest, Eskel didn’t have the faintest idea of what to wear to something like this. Shit, he usually just painted in his underwear and then washed any paint that had gotten on his skin off in the shower. But he figured it would be poor form to show up to an art class in just his undies.

He found an old pair of jeans that were only a tad bit too tight shoved in the back corner of his closet, and a t-shirt that, again, was just a little snug. Eskel ran his hands through his hair and looked in the mirror as he toed his boots on. He looked put together, and hopefully he wouldn’t ruin his clothes too badly with paint.

As he walked the few blocks to the art studio, he pondered. The evening breeze danced through his hair and he sighed. It had been a while since Eskel had allowed himself the comfort of a peaceful night out and the class seemed like the perfect opportunity to let loose for a few hours.

So why did he feel so anxious?

Nestled between the public library and another kitschy coffee shop, the art studio was obvious. There was a modern art sculpture in the middle of the sidewalk, and the pillars by the entrance had been carved with likenesses of people of all shapes and sizes. Eskel pushed open the door and smiled gently at the receptionist behind the desk up front.

She was young, maybe in her mid-twenties. She had long, wavy blond hair that was messily tied in a low bun at the nape of her neck. She had a charcoal pencil tucked behind her ear and a small paintbrush through the middle of her bun. Her eyes were the blue of the middle of the sea, and they were wide with curiosity. Somehow, Eskel didn’t feel uncomfortable with her gaze. It was as if she were observing him without seeing merely what was on the surface.

“Here for the painting class?” Her name tag read ‘Essi’ in loopy blue letters, and she pushed a sign in sheet towards him when he nodded.

“‘S there a lot of people in there?” Eskel asked, scribbling hastily.

Essi shook her head. “Limited class. Only ten spots for students. You got lucky!”

“Mhm. Right. Real lucky.” After signing in at the front desk, Eskel strolled down the hallway and found the classroom that he was looking for. There was already a handful of other people in there, milling about the table in the rear with snacks and tea.

Eskel grabbed a chocolate chip cookie and a cup of tea and looked around the workspace. There were a bunch of chairs with small tables set up next to them around the room. None were directly facing any of the others. Eskel meandered over to one close to the corner and set his paper cup down. The cookie was warm and gooey, and Eskel had to force himself not to inhale it.

The table had an array of acrylic paint tubes and a palette, a cup on the side with a handful of brushes of different shapes and sizes. There was also a water cup and a stack of paper towels. No easel, no canvas.

A few more people strolled in while Eskel polished off his cookie, and soon enough the instructor walked in and tipped the door shut. The light conversation stopped as she walked to the center of the room.

“Hello,” she smiled kindly. She was a bit older, maybe in her mid-fifties, with gray hair threading her soft brown ponytail. “My name is Kona, and I’ll be helping out today. Thank you all so much for joining us. It’s a free-for-all, so whatever inspiration you find, paint. Go ahead and grab a spot, I’ll bring in your canvases.”

The chair creaked as Eskel sat in it, though the cushion was comfortable and well-worn. He flicked his phone to vibrate and couldn’t help his leg bouncing. Eskel had already found his reference image and he was looking forward to zoning out for a bit while he painted,glad that his canvas wouldn’t easily be seen by the other artists.

He glanced up as Kona strode back into the room, and then did a double-take at the ‘canvases’ she was bringing in. Ten more people walked in behind her, all with soft smiles and an ethereal sort of grace in their step. Essi, the woman from the front, was one of them, though she’d taken the pencil and brush from her hair.

“Go ahead, disperse,” Kona waved her hand to the group and they all strode confidently towards an artist of their choosing. Eskel’s heart raced as a man, probably only a handful of years younger than he was, stopped before him.

“Hi there.” The man held out his hand, and Eskel’s breath was stolen from his lungs. He was beautiful, with soft chestnut hair in waves that framed his soft cheeks and strong jaw. His eyes were the clearest blue he’d ever seen, like the glimpse of sky between storm clouds. “I’m Jaskier.”

Eskel swallowed thickly and took Jaskier’s hand, giving it a gentle shake. “‘Lo. my name’s Eskel, but uh…I didn’t know that this was gonna be…this sort of thing-”

“Oh, no no no, this isn’t a sex thing,” Jaskier grabbed another chair and sat across from Eskel. Dressed in a button-down shirt with the collar open to the bottom of his sternum and an effortlessly disheveled pair of jeans, Jaskier looked every bit the muse that the ancient Greeks would imagine in their stars. “It’s just a way to get your mind thinking outside of the confines of a traditional canvas. I don’t even have to get undressed or anything, it’s all up to us.”

Eskel peered around to see the different canvases in all sorts of different states of dress. A few had rolled their sleeves up or were wearing a tank top to expose their arms for their artist, one had taken off their pants to give access to their legs, and the rest had taken off their shirts and trousers. Essi was one of those, and Eskel overheard her giggle with the man in front of her.

“So,” the man grinned coyly, one of the dark curls of hair on his head bouncing down over his eye, “shall I get to finger painting?”

Essi crossed her arms with an exaggerated gasp, though her lips were still turned in a giddy sort of smile. “Aiden! Not here! Why must you always be such a cheeky bastard?”

Eskel cast his eyes back at Jaskier. “Fuck, I’m sorry. My brother signed me up for this class, I doubt he even really knew what it was. I’m just having to…readjust my expectations a bit.”

Jaskier grinned softly. “Not a worry, I promise. Just tell me how you’d like me, and I’ll make it happen.”

Eskel thought about it for a moment. Jaskier seemed kind, and it seemed like the sort of unique experience that he wouldn’t be likely to get again. Besides, how could he just walk away from those stunning blue eyes? He nodded decisively, feeling his cheeks burn a bit as he smiled. “Alright. So, what do we do?”

“Well,” Jaskier looked around the room to the other artists and canvases, “you decide where you want to paint me, and I’ll adjust to make that happen. Do you have any ideas for what you want to do?”

Eskel pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened the photos app. “It’s the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland. I…I like to find places that I want to visit and use those as reference.”

Jaskier nodded and smiled, his eyes crinkling endearingly. “I think that’s a really wonderful way to create. Use the inspiration around you to guide what’s inside. Poetic, really.”

Eskel hummed. “Never really thought about it like that.”

“What can I say? I’m a romantic.”

Eskel looked Jaskier over with a grin. “So, what would you be comfortable with for me to paint on? I’ve never really done this, but-”

“Honestly? Anything goes. Class rules dictate that I keep my underwear on, but I’m fine with whatever you’ve got in mind.” Jaskier gesticulated as he spoke, waving his hands around and Eskel couldn’t help but follow the path of his fingers through the air.

“Could I paint your back? I think that would be easiest for what I have in mind-”

Jaskier let out a breath of relief and smiled. “Oh, yes yes yes of course. Gods, I was hoping you’d say that. I brought a razor just in case you’d wanted to do my chest, but I was not looking forward to a quick trim in the closest bathroom, you know?”

Eskel’s mind ground to a halt as Jaskier babbled for a moment. His eyes flicked down to Jaskier’s chest, following the tracks of dark fuzz that escaped past the low v of his neckline. Jaskier’s hands moved to start unbuttoning and suddenly the room was quite warm, but Eskel couldn’t tear his eyes away. Jaskier looked soft and warm, with broad shoulders and a slim waist padded by a comfortable layer of cushion, the hair over his chest trailing in a strong line beneath his waistband.

“-mind if I take off my trousers too? I just don’t really fancy getting paint on them if I don’t have to.” Jaskier chucked his shirt aside and waited on Eskel’s answer.

Eskel blinked a few times and shook himself back to reality. He’s just a guy volunteering to get painted. A gorgeous guy with a smile that makes my stomach do a backflip, but still. “Y-yeah, sure. ‘S fine.”

Jaskier stood and started shimmying out of his pants. Eskel was going to look away, he really was. But, alas, he didn’t. He just watched while Jaskier’s light colored jeans fell down his thighs and pooled on the floor before being kicked off along with his shoes. His legs were strong, with muscular thighs and calves dusted with that same dark hair. Oh, fuck me. His boxer briefs didn’t hide much either, clinging to him tightly and accentuating the soft bulge resting between his legs.

Eskel cleared his throat and tried to control himself. Gods above, you’d think I’d never seen a man before. “You, uh-I like the hair. On…on your chest. ‘S good. You shouldn’t shave it.”

“You’re sweet,” Jaskier smiled and set his hand on the back of his chair. “Now, one last thing before we get started.”

Eskel nodded, keeping his gaze pointedly above Jaskier’s collarbone.

“Are you alright with chatting while you paint, or do you want quiet? If you’ve not noticed, I can run my mouth like a marathon. But I can shut up if you’d like, I know some people think my voice is annoying, which, rude. But anyway, either way’s perfectly fine with me.”

Eskel scrunched his brow. “Your voice isn’t annoying. It’s nice, soft. Soothing. We can chat, I don’t mind.”

Jaskier’s cheeks flushed a faint rosy pink. “Alright then.” He turned around and straddled his chair, lowering himself to sit with his chest resting forward on the backrest. He brought his arms up and crossed them over the edge of the back, resting his chin on his wrist.

Eskel allowed himself a brief moment to recenter. Even Jaskier’s back was pretty, with strong shoulder blades and defined lines of his musculature down his sides, smatterings of freckles traversing over the skin. Focus, Eskel. He busied himself with preparing his paints, using a few brushes to make some light grays and blues. As he set up his reference image on his phone, propped up against a tube of orange paint that he knew he wouldn’t need, he took a deep breath and scooted closer to Jaskier, close enough to feel the heat from his skin.

His voice was quiet, almost a rumble. “Ready?”

Jaskier nodded as goosebumps erupted across his shoulders. “Mhm. What are you starting with?”

“I think I’ll start with the sky…” Eskel grabbed a flat brush and grabbed some of his most saturated blue that he’d mixed. As he went to make his first stroke, he couldn’t figure out the best position that he was comfortable in. “Jaskier?”

“Hmm?”

“Would it be rude of me to ask if I could touch you? Not trying anything, I swear. I just can’t quite figure out what to do with my other hand.”

Jaskier glanced over his shoulder with a smile. “Not rude at all. In fact, I’ll go ahead and offer. Eskel, you may touch me while you paint if you’d so like, I don’t mind.”

Eskel chuckled. “You know, Jaskier? That’s a really good idea. Thank you for offering.”

“I’m nothing if not incredibly generous.”

“Oh? And he’s humble?” Eskel teased.

Jaskier winked back at him. “It’s my best quality.”

Eskel shook his head and laughed. “Go on, I’ll get started.”

He carefully set his free hand on Jaskier’s hip as he resettled himself. He heard Jaskier just barely suck in a sharp breath as their skin met, breaking the tense bubble of separation that they’d kept so far. Eskel took a deep breath and brought his other hand with the paintbrush to just beneath Jaskier’s shoulder blade. He dragged the brush slowly straight across Jaskier’s back, leaving a crease of blue as his horizon. “This alright?”

Jaskier swallowed thickly and cleared his throat. “Y-yeah. Quite, in fact.”

“Good.” Eskel mixed some of his gray in with the blue and began blending the color up in messy strokes. As he got to the edge of Jaskier’s shoulder, he added white and brought it back down. It was a quiet few minutes while Eskel got into his mindset for creating, and it felt so nice once he was there. Actually, more than nice. It was wonderful, and he couldn’t help but think that the man in front of him was the reason.

“So…” Jaskier spoke quietly, being careful not to move, “what got you into painting?”

Eskel shrugged and mixed another blue, this one for the water. He cut the skyline again and shaped the curves of where the shore would meet the base of the cliffs. Jaskier’s skin grounded him, the warmth bleeding into the tips of his fingers. “My therapist suggested it. I…I don’t take enough time for myself, and she said I needed to find something that didn’t carry pressure, but I still cared about. I tried knitting, but my fingers are too clumsy. So this was the next thing I tried.”

Jaskier sighed, though Eskel could hear the smile on his lips. “I love a man who’s in therapy. Too many people, especially men, don’t think that they need it. I think everyone needs it.”

“I agree,” Eskel hummed and started filling in the base of his ocean. Very light saturation at the horizon, falling deeper as he brought the color down Jaskier’s back. As he reached the base of his spine, the color was a dark greenish-blue. Jaskier giggled as Eskel’s brush just barely went around his hip.

“Sorry,” Jaskier breathed, “A bit ticklish there.”

Eskel bit the inside of his cheek and stifled a groan. “Noted.”

“I trust you won’t use that against me…” Jaskier glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes glinting with mirth.

“I would never abuse such information,” Eskel rinsed his brush and patted it dry with one of the paper towels, “today, at least.”

Jaskier hummed and narrowed his eyes with a smirk before turning back around. They were quiet once more while Eskel mixed his next few colors, glancing over to his reference image every so often. He decided to do the cliff walls next, so he made a few shades of browns and grays.

The paintbrush dragged in long strokes down Jaskier’s back in the shape of the ciffs, getting shorter as he moved up to create perspective. The colors blended sloppily, but Eskel wasn’t terribly concerned with that. He’d come back and touch up the details once the base layers were finished.

“You said your brother signed you up for the class?” Jaskier asked.

Eskel hummed as he made short strokes of different colors over the still-wet layer. “Mhm, he owns a tattoo shop a few blocks over.”

“That was really nice of him,” Jaskier smiled and bit the inside of his cheek. “So…is there a Mrs. Eskel?”

Eskel laughed. “Coming right out with it then?”

“I don’t know the meaning of the word ‘subtle.’”

“Fair enough,” Eskel mixed some various shades of green for his last base layer. “No, I’m not married. Nor am I in the dating scene, shit stresses me out. And…” Eskel paused before starting to fill in the remainder of Jaskier’s back with the green paint, “if I were, my partner wouldn’t necessarily be a Mrs. I’m not picky about gender.”

The younger man hummed and Eskel saw the back of his neck flush pink. He smiled and finished blending light and dark shades of green to form the top of the cliff.

Jaskier carefully cleared his throat. “Isn’t that lucky? Nor am I, as it were.”

Eskel hummed, hoping to all hopes that Jaskier would take the bait. “Here, you can relax for a minute, I want to let those layers dry a bit before the next part.”

Jaskier spun his chair around and met Eskel’s eyes. “So, hypothetically, if I were to ask you out to say, a cup of coffee, what would you say?”

Eskel smiled and shook his head, chucking his brush into the now-cloudy water cup. “Well, hypothetically, I’d suggest ice cream instead…not many coffee places are open this late around here.”

Jaskier quirked his brow and he bit his lip. “I think that would be a great idea…hypothetically.”

Eskel nodded. “I, for one, don’t especially like thinking in hypotheticals.”

“Oh?”

“So, go ahead. Ask.”

Eskel would swear it forever, but in that moment, he felt the warmth of the sun beaming from Jaskier’s smile. Those bright blue eyes peered at him, searching for whatever depths he kept buried within. “Eskel, would you like to get ice cream with me? As a date?”

“Gladly,” Eskel grinned, “How’s tonight sound?”

“Well,” Jaskier pursed his lips and looked at his bare wrist as though checking the time on a non-existent watch, “I’m getting painted on for about another hour. But I’m free after that?”

“Perfect, that’s right when my schedule opens up too.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

They sat there for a moment, just looking at each other, not really knowing where to go next. Jaskier broke the bubble of silence, chuckling a bit and reaching up to ruffle the soft chestnut waves of his hair. “Well. Why don’t we make good use of this last hour?”

Eskel nodded and smiled softly, ignoring the awkward pull of the scars on his cheek. “You’re probably dry enough now for me to do the details.”

Jaskier spun his chair back around and settled, wiggling around a bit before falling still. “Alright, Eskel. Do your worst.”

Eskel’s mind had scattered since he’d last held the brush, so he took a long, deep breath. He fought for control in the small of his belly, willing his mind to focus on the paint, the art, the canvas. Though, it seemed that his canvas was the cause of his distraction.

He sighed to himself, shaking his mind sane. Using his picture as his guide, he mixed a light and a dark gray on his palette. He grabbed a fluffy brush and loaded it with both tones on either side. Resting his free hand once more on Jaskier’s hip, Eskel began gently dabbing the brush to create soft, fluffy clouds over the expanse of the sky between Jaskier’s shoulder blades. It was only a few minutes before Eskel was happy with how it looked, and his mind had reentered that creative zone that he had come to so happily seek out.

“So,” Eskel hummed as he set the fluffy brush into the water and began mixing some blue tones and making sure that he had some white ready, “you know why I got into painting. What got you doing this?”

As Eskel began blending the blues over the ocean water, adding dainty white crests of waves where it met the face of the cliff, Jaskier smiled over his shoulder. “Well, I came here all the time when I was young. I had a hard time finding my niche, and this place helped me figure it out. So, now, when I can, I like to volunteer here. Maybe I can help someone else find their place too.”

Soft shades of green started getting applied to Jaskier’s back, forming the gentle rolls of the valleys of the top of the cliff. “That’s really admirable, Jaskier. I know you’ve helped at least one person, and probably many more, just by being here.”

Eskel watched the back of Jaskier’s neck flush a soft rosy pink. They sat quietly while Eskel continued on, highlighting the crests of the waves and tops of clouds, deepening the ocean and the valleys atop the cliff. Just as he was adding his last few details, Kona strode to his side.

“Impressive, Eskel,” she mused, her eyes meandering slowly over Jaskier’s back. “You’ve chosen a beautiful scene, and your color blending is sublime. I know we haven’t had quite enough time for you to do all of the detail work that you might’ve wanted to do, but you’ve accomplished a lot with the time that we’ve had. Good work.”

“Thank you,” Eskel hummed, setting his brush into the water cup. “It’s been really nice to try something new.”

As Kona turned away and moved to the next pair, Jaskier twisted his neck around, trying to look at his back, to no avail. “Would you let me see it?”

Eskel nodded, grabbing his phone and opening up the camera. He snapped a quick picture of the painting and handed it to Jaskier.

The young man gasped. “Holy shit, Eskel. This, I mean. I’m stunned, honestly. It’s…gods, I don’t often find myself without words, but…it seems you’ve struck me dumb.”

Eskel chuckled and shook his head. “Flatterer.”

Jaskier shrugged. “It’s not flattery if it’s deserved. Actually,” he spun around with a roguish grin on his lips and a glint in his eyes, “I could always leave the paint on for a bit and you could…finish it off at my place.”

Eskel’s cheeks flushed and he shifted in his seat, biting the edge of his lip. “That’s…very tempting, Jaskier. But I think we should stick with ice cream, just for tonight. Besides,” he winked, “I think I’m finished with that one. ‘M happy with how it turned out. And I can always start a new one.”

Jaskier nodded and handed Eskel his phone back. “I can’t wait. Now,” he stood and stretched his arms high over his head, drawing Eskel’s eyes down the long lines of his torso and back once more to the soft bulge in his boxer-briefs, “I’ll go wash off, and we can head out?”

Eskel swallowed thickly, willing himself to keep his head on straight as Jaskier bent down to retrieve his discarded clothes. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll clean up here, and I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

He watched Jaskier pad off towards the door, his legs long all the way up to where his briefs gently hugged the round swell of his bum until he turned into the hallway. He shook his head and sighed to himself before rounding up his station. Eskel twisted the lids onto the tubes of paint, bringing them, the clean paper towels, and the spare brushes that he didn’t use back over to the counter at the wall where others had already begun to leave their supplies as well. He set them down gently before returning to his table, grabbing his water cup with the dirty brushes and his used paper towels.

Eskel dropped the soiled towels into the trash bin and tipped the water into the utility sink as he turned on the faucet. He methodically rinsed his brushes, washing away the last remnants of earthy paints nestled in the bristles with his fingers. He set them into the hanging rack to dry and turned off the water, wiping his hands dry on his jeans as he strode back into the hall.

The lobby was quiet as he found a seat by the window. Eskel’s eyes adjusted to the dim evening lit by the streetlamps as he patiently waited for Jaskier. He spied Essi and Aiden arm in arm walking out to the sidewalk, her with a smear of bright blue paint on the back of her neck and Aiden with a smudge of atomic green along his cheekbone. He reached down and squeezed her bum as they walked, and she threw her head back with an unapologetic laugh that Eskel could’ve sworn he heard even inside the building.

“Gods, but they’re disgustingly adorable, aren’t they?” Eskel peered over his shoulder at Jaskier, who had silently joined him at the window. The damp ends of his hair curled at the nape of his neck and his cheeks were flushed from the seemingly quite hot water he had used.

He hummed and nodded, rising to his feet. He realized that he wasn’t much taller than Jaskier, having only maybe an inch or two on him. Eskel smiled and held out his elbow. “Shall we?”