#arthusbands

@samueltsao, @brie-harlow

So this is what all the people in the christmas carols must feel like. Camille felt so... Warm. The fire was going, Brie and Rollant (wearing the sweater Brie had picked out for him; oversized and truly horrible. When Santa is fighting a shark on the front of your shirt, you have gone too far) were decorating the tree they had brought home earlier this morning while Samuel was at work, and Camille was hanging the lights, and wreaths and mistletoe around the apartment. He had recently gotten a job teaching art at a High School, and when he told his students how special this holiday would be for him and his family they chipped in and each made home-made holiday cards for him to put on the mantel piece of the fireplace.

Rollant was telling Brie some story about When he was Brie’s age in Paris, while the record player crackled, playing one of Camille’s grandmother’s Christmas albums. He didn’t play her albums often, but come the holidays he felt obligated to- it made him feel closer to her. Louis Armstrong and his Grandmother were singing a jazzy rendition of Walking in a Winter Wonderland behind the laughter of Brie and the chirping of the birds. Anyway, this would be his first Christmas with Sam and... It felt like he had his whole family here, except for her. He wanted her to be here tonight.

He took a deep breath, stepping down from the ladder and taking a look around. He stole a candy cane off of the tree, dodging Brie’s attempt to swat at him only to be flicked on the forehead by Rollant.

“Voleur!” Rollat exclaimed, calling Camille a thief, “See, my love-” He said referring to Brie in his thick accent, “This! This, all the time- Street rat!” Camille rolled his eyes, as Rollant wrapped an arm around his shoulder, “Good hair cut.” He commented. “You needed one- He looked like a hippie, no, Brie?” Since Camille had gotten his job, it required him to cut his hair and actually keep up with his facial hair. No longer could he look like a homeless artist. Camille looked at his watch.

“Oh! Samuel will be home soon- I am going to call him. Brie get the surprise from the other room please?” He asked, “You both remember what to do?” He wanted to Surprise Sam, they had decorated all day while he was at work and had a family dinner waiting for him when he got home. Brie was set up to video tape his reaction, and Rollant was there for moral support. He caught Camille before he could leave, placing both his hands on Camille’s shoulders.

“I am so proud of you, son.” He said in french. Camille took a deep breath, nodding, as Rollant patted his back, “Everything will be perfect.” Offering a wink before going to help Brie bring out Sam’s early Christmas present. A big red and green box, sat right under the tree while Camille went to text Sam.

“He is down the hall!” Camille called, “Hide hide! Remember don’t come out until it’s time... I am looking at you Rollant.” Rollant waved a hand at him.

“HUMP. Brie and I will do just fine! Come along dear...”

When they were out of sight, Camille quickly glanced at himself in the mirror, staring at himself for a minute before leaving the apartment to meet Samuel in the hall. “Well, it took you long enough to get home mr. boss man, I thought you were never going to come back.” He whined. He took Sam’s brief case for him as they walked to Sam’s apartment door. “Who still carries a briefcase? Only you, Samuel...” He commented. “The door’s open.”

He couldn’t wait to see the look on Sam’s  face when he saw the decorations.

A la faveur de l’automne- Samille

@samueltsao

@samueltsao

Sam would be working from home today, from his spotless home office, as he did often. This office was one room, the only room, of his boyfriend’s apartment that Camille never had any interest to venture into. There was no need. When Sam was working, Sam was working. And Camille did not like to interrupt him.

This particular day started like any other. Camille and Sam had begun to get into a routine, especially now that Rollant was staying in Camille’s apartment. Generally, when Sam would make his commute to the building near the Ragnatela where he worked, he would rise long before Camille, shower, dress, and be out the door, leaving coffee hot in the pot for when Camille rose. On days when Sam worked from home, Camille made an effort to wake up before Sam, prepare him a breakfast (which he would leave on the stove for him with a note), and  kiss the man’s forehead before quietly leaving to allow Sam’s home to transform into his workspace.

“@ the studio. Omelette on stove.”

Today was no different. And by the time Camille had exited the apartment and made his way to his own, he knew Sam’s alarm would start to ring, and the man would be up to start his day of meetings and endless tapping on his computer.

That is, until aproximently 1:30.

It was easy enough to twist Theo’s arm. Sam’s assistant had alway enjoyed Camille’s company, and with the promise of being off the clock for an hour or so to do whatever he pleased under his belt, he put up no objections to blocking that 1:30 time slot off in Sam’s appointment book. He used Rollant’s sur name, Le Roux, as it sounded important and french and he knew Sam wouldn’t recognize it. He didn’t offer a first.

If there was one thing Camille’s grandmother taught him how to do, and do very well, it was how to dress. Crisp collars, sharp lapels, shined shoes, were something that the man knew like the back of his hand, but only wore for special occasions. Of course, the artist felt more comfortable in a paint stained t-shit, anything that would be appropriate to splatter clay on was the artist’s go to material for outerwear. But today, he looked forward to venturing to the back of his closet.

He had until 1:00 PM to get himself ready. Hardly a challenge. Showering, body wash scented with black pepper and ginseng. Clean, freshly trimmed and shaven facial hair a stark contrast to his usual unshaven face. He even brushed his curls back, into something more presentable than a bed head. before slipping into a freshly ironed button down. Suit from Italy, Charvet tie expertly knotted, Ungaro Iii cologne adding an exotic wood scent. The exact fragrance he wore when they had met in New York.

When he emerged from the 2nd floor of his apartment he was greeted by Rollant who looked up from his paper at him in surprise. Calling a quick, “Where are you going?” to Camille, spoken in french, as he passed through the living room into towards the door.

“I have an appointment.”

--

Camille glanced at his watch, an antique, a gift that Rollant had passed down to him, gold with a black face, dark leather band still in perfect condition. Everything from his head to his feet was seemingly spotless, even his nails screamed importance. Like he was some major executive from some international company, almost as if he should have an assistant sweeping the floor in front of him as he walked. Raising his hand he knocked on the door, even making sure to distinguish it from the usual playful knock that the real Camille would present. And the best part about this entire plan, the get up, the finesse, was that Sam couldn’t kick him out on the basis of having work to do.

Camille: Hey babe where are you?

Camille: You stopped texting- I thought we were doing movie night tonight

Camille Mood Board (7/?)- Samille Needs to be Stopped

“Thanks for letting me have sex with you from time to time”