Appetite for Art
Pairing: Sam x female reader
Word Count: 1.3k
Summary: An AU where Sam and the reader have a huge interest in art.
Warnings: very little mentions of death
A/N: I've had this idea of artsy Sam flirting with the reader over art. I actually wanted them to have an interest in renaissance art but it ended up being something else. This challenge has pushed me to stop procrastinating on this idea! I enjoyed writing this nonetheless! This was done for @jayankles Bailey's 1Y Everything Challenge!
Pics and gifs below the cut!
Art. A three letter word that seemed to take over your life. It was something you loved and something you wished you were good at. But that didn't stop you from admiring the beauty that every art piece held.
There was art in everything you seen. The way people danced, how their feet moved peacefully with eachother. The way people sang and how they put so much feeling into their voices. You admired the way people played instruments, feeling the vibration as they played with their eyes closed.
You especially found the art within paintings and drawings. You could easily see if they had a heavy hand or planted no weight on their drawings. You could tell whether they were right handed or left handed. In paintings, you appreciated the different strokes you seen, whether the painter painted side to side or up and down.
In a world full of war, you seen beautiful art.
One of your favorite places to visit to see such pieces of art was the art museum. The walls were filled with numerous pieces, each by different artists.
There was one that you loved most. You remembered when you were little and your mother loved the flowers. Sunflowers filled the kitchen as she decorated everything with Van Gogh's famous sunflower paintings. You always disliked the color yellow, until the kitchen was decorated with it, and it just made your mother look...happy.
That was until you noticed your mom remove every single sunflower painting from the kitchen and replaced it with Van Gogh's Starry Night. You didn't know at the time that the Starry Night indicated the mental illness that Vincent VG had. You were clueless about your mom, until she took her own life away.
You shared the same love interest in art that your mother had. She used to take you to the art museum all the time and the two of you would just sit there and stare at the paintings all day.
You were there again, today. Revisiting the paintings for the tenth time that month. Nothing would be able to keep you away from it.
You walked into another room of the museum and sat at the bench that was provided for the art lovers.
Large canvas' of drawings were displayed across the wall, and you stared and smiled at them as they showed pictures of happy children and their families.
"Beautiful", you heard a voice say. It made you lose the story that you were imagining in your mind, and you turned to who it was.
It was a man you never seen at the museum. You were a usual at the museum, knowing the workers and guards and almost every other usual person there.
But this man was a definite stranger. He had seemingly long hair and he was dressed in a large flannel with a satchel across his body. He didn't look like the art type, but you didn't want to discriminate.
"Excuse me?" You assumed he was purposely calling you that, as he was staring at you when you looked at him.
He smiled and it slowly faded. "The drawings. They're beautiful."
You nodded your head in agreement. "They look so happy. You could tell the artist had a happy childhood."
The man looked back at the drawings. "You can see all that in a drawing?"
You nodded your head, not caring if he seen your silent response or not. "It's beautiful, really. How much a drawing can say about a person."
The large man searched through his bag and took out a book. He looked through the pages and took one specific page out, slowly handing it to you.
"What does this drawing say?"
It was a unique drawing. The artist drew it with one pencil and they had a light hand. The picture depicted a woman with a white dress standing side by side with two little boys. All three of them held no expression.
"The artist seems to be sad. Or missing someone? I can't really tell, the picture is sending me mixed signals. I can see that the artist had a traumatizing childhood by the way the two little boys look. It also looked like the artist went through a depression phase, as it looks, the mother is sad as well."
You gave back the drawing to the man and he raised his brows. He placed the drawing back where he got it from and looked at you.
"Looks like you're pretty good at that," he said, adjusting the strap of his bag.
You smiled at him, mentally thanking him. "Who's the creator?"
"Me," he said smiling.
You slightly raised your brows, not expecting the answer he gave. "Was I right?"
The man's face dropped and you knew you were being too personal. "I'm sorry, you don't have to answer that."
You looked back at the drawings on the wall, feeling slightly uncomfortable now.
"You are," the man mumbled out. "I had a very troubling childhood and lost someone that I wasn't old enough to get to know."
"I'm sorry to hear about that. What's your name?" You asked. It sounded more random when you asked his name, but it seemed like the normal thing to do.
"Sam," he said, reaching his hand out to shake yours.
"Y/N," you said, copying his actions. "I didn't see you as an art type."
Sam bobbed his head back and furrowed his eyebrows, scoffing a little with a small smile. "What does that mean? What does the art type look like?"
You shrugged your shoulders. "Don't really know. You just have more of a fighting vibe than an artsy vibe."
You looked back at the drawings on the wall, trying to send a hint to Sam that you wanted to be alone with the art.
You looked back at him as you noticed from the side of your eye that he wasn't leaving. Instead, he was actually admiring the art.
He looked at you, catching you staring at him, and you patted the bench, offering him a seat beside you. He smiled and sat down, removing his bag and placing it aside.
"Do you draw or paint?" He interrupted you again.
You shook your head. "No, I'm not that talented. I just study it."
"I can teach you," he said. The both of you didn't look at eachother, but were still comfortably speaking to one another.
You shook your head and laughed. "You can't teach talent into someone. They're born with it. If you show someone how to do something and they become a natural at it, well, in my opinion, they always had talent. They just needed a push to expose it."
This time, Sam laughed. "I don't agree."
"You don't have to. It's my opinion. Not everyone thinks like me."
Sam laughed through his nose at your response. "Want to go out for coffee?"
You looked at him confused. You hoped you weren't giving him the wrong idea. Then again, you didn't see a problem in dating, but you didn't feel in the mood to deal with that either.
"Just a coffee. That's it, I swear," he said, bringing his hands up in surrender.
You thought about it, chewing on your lip and weighing the chances of something going bad.
"Okay," you agreed, "where did you have in mind?"
Sam got up quickly with a huge grin across his face. He placed his bag back across his chest. "I know the best place for coffee."
Sam reached his hand out for you to grab it and you hesitated. "Come on beautiful."
He smiled and you blushed embarrassingly too much. You realized that he did, in fact, call you beautiful when he walked in.
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