Bean was painting today. He sat in the park, the sun a little too bright for his liking. He had moved his seat twice since starting because the shade of the tree liked to run away. There were five squirts of paint on a little plastic board below the canvas and Bean had three bruses, a glass of water, and a canister of tea. He had only drunk paint-tea four times since starting. All in all, a resounding success. he dappled busily at a leaf he had been painting with the lime green paint, then experimented with a little black paint.
Too much black paint. Too much paint. Get the paint off. Paper towels?
Nnnnone. A look around, sourcing a solution.
Handkerchief. He smeared black-green paint on the canvas beside the happy face he had drawn in the top left.
Camera shutter.
Bean tried not to notice, or at least not to notice too noticeably, but he was being photographed. Like a celebrity artist. Photographed because he was s p e c i a l.
He caught the photographer's camera from the corner of his eye, and gave the man a look that was difficult to interpret, then made a point of peering around his canvas to look at the subject he was painting. There was a family picnic there, in front of him, but he wasn't painting that. He was painting Teddy under the sunflower with a little, scale beach umbrella to protect him from the sun.
After examining his muse he returned to his painting, licked the end of his still-wet paintbrush delicately, and selected brown. If he was going to be photo-graphed, he was going to put on an excellent show.
Omigosh is it too late to shoot a prompt over? 👀 Could I get Klaus and Nathan meeting for the first time and having a Spider-man meme moment?
word count: 859
a/n: this was fun to think about, I ended up setting it in Vegas because I figured it was the most logical place for them to meet. Ahhh, I hope you like it lol
“Will yeh look at this place?” Nathan asked, spreading his arms wide as he entered the casino floor, his eyes alight with excitement.
“Ritzy,” you agreed, sweeping your gaze to take in the scene.
“I’ll have this place eatin’ outta th’palm of my hand in no time,” he exclaimed, rubbing his hands together eagerly before throwing an arm around your shoulders.
“Uh huh, just don’t get caught,” you grumbled, eyeing him askance.
“Pshhh, as if,” Nathan exclaimed with bravado right before a man walking the other direction stumbled, bumping into his shoulder.
“Ow! Watch it!” Nathan yelped, massaging his shoulder exaggeratedly as the other fellow half turned, holding his hands up, two distinctive tattoos flashing across his palms -- hello and goodbye.
“Oops, my bad,” the tattooed fellow exclaimed and for a moment you thought Nathan’s eyes were going to pop out of his head while the other guy’s jaw dropped as soon as he fully turned to face you, his thick dark eyebrows drawing down in bewilderment.
“You!” Nathan cried, pointing shamelessly just as the other guy mirrored him.
“Holy shit.”
Blinking, you looked from Nathan to the mysterious stranger across from him, who looked like he could be the spitting image of your boyfriend in about ten years or so. While his hair was shorter than Nathan’s and he sported a rather stylish goatee, his face slightly more mature, the features were breathtakingly similar -- the same handsome cheekbones, gorgeous jawline, and absolutely stunning emerald eyes with the same impressively long eyelashes.
“Who th’fuck are you and why d’you look so much like me?” Nathan demanded incredulously and you wondered, perhaps like he was, whether he could possibly have some long lost older brother he knew nothing about.
The other man offered a wry smile and a shrug. “Who knows, maybe I’m you from the future,” he exclaimed mysteriously, wiggling his fingers for effect and Nathan gasped, turning to gape at you.
Out of all the other weird shit you’d seen over the past year, there was nothing too strange any longer to not believe. For all you knew, it could be possible.
“What?” the guy asked, noticing your wide eyed expressions.
“Hey don’t joke about shite like that!” Nathan exclaimed, jabbing his finger at him, “You have no idea all the shite we’ve seen.”
The other guy merely shrugged, “Yeah, yeah, tell me about it. If you even knew the half of it kid…” he said under his breath, holding out his hand instead. “I’m Klaus.”
Nathan scowled disdainfully at Klaus’s hand for a moment before carefully taking it to shake. “Nathan, Nathan Young,” he replied importantly.
“And your lovely friend there?” Klaus asked, glancing past Nathan to you. As his dark limned eyes met yours you couldn’t help the flush that crept to your face.
“[y/n],” you answered, and he bent to take your hand and place a kiss to it.
“Charmed, I’m sure,” he said with a suave grin while Nathan bristled.
“Yeah, yeah, alright, enough o’ that now!” he exclaimed, shooing Klaus away. “Keep your hands and your lips to yourself, mate!”
Klaus’s smug grin took you both in before he once again held up his hands as he backed away. “Alright, alright, don’t get your panties in a twist, little doppelganger. Maybe I’ll see ya around. And maybe not,” he added with a shrug and he gave a little wave as he backed into the crowd, disappearing from sight.
“Prick,” Nathan muttered under his breath before turning back to you. “Can y’believe that guy? He didn’t look a thing like me,” he grumbled with a thoughtful frown.
“Uh huh, sure,” you replied skeptically, nudging your boyfriend. “He really did though.”
“Oh, yeah, you’re only sayin’ that cause y’fancied him,” Nathan shot back and you had to fight not to laugh at his sullen pout as he turned his back on you.
“Oh, c’mon,” you said, stepping in front of him and ducking your head to meet his eyes. “Maybe I only thought he was handsome because he looks like you,” you pointed out while Nathan rolled his eyes.
“Now you’re just tryin’ t’justify it,” he argued.
“Hey now,” you murmured, taking his face in your hands, “I still think you’re the most handsome … I do gotta say, that goatee was rather dashing though,” you murmured thoughtfully, eyeing your boyfriend and trying to imagine him sporting such facial hair.
Noticing Nathan’s displeasure at your comment, his arms crossed petulantly across his chest once more as he scowled deeper and you quickly moved in to rectify the situation, sinking your hands in his thick curls.
“But nothing beats these curls,” you added, leaning closer, Nathan’s expression shifting at your words.
“Oh yeah?” he pressed skeptically, raising a thick eyebrow at you. “You prefer ‘em do yeh?”
“Mhmm,” you murmured, pulling him closer, your fingers tugging lightly at his signature mop of hair. “They’re so nice for holding onto.”
“You’re welcome,” he quipped, his smug grin returning.
“Oh, come here, you jealous thing,” you muttered before pressing a kiss to his lips, hoping to drive any lingering thoughts of the suspiciously similar stranger from his mind, but you couldn’t help but wonder what were the chances?
@dirtylimerick said, "I’m sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to get so upset," Sean began. "It's just... well. Hospitals, you know. They've always stressed me out. Anyway. Um, it's not much of an apology, but I brought you a coffee. Starbucks. Figured you might be sick of the canteen sh— stuff."
“I’ll take the coffee, but you don’t have to apologize you know.” she said, hand extending in invitation to the empty seat across from her. “I’m sure you’d be surprised to hear, but people don’t exactly come down to the morgue to send greeting cards.”
Her hands wrapped around the cup, letting the warmth of it seep into her skin. Despite her choice of profession, the chill was not something she particularly enjoyed. For a few seconds she simply stared down at the printed cup, forefinger rubbing back and forth across the base of it.
“I am sorry Mr. Falco.” she started, voice a bit more tender than before. “It’s not an easy thing to see, but-” a pause as the words gathered on her tongue. “Thank you, for helping us. I’m sure it wasn’t what you had planned for your holiday.”
Between patients, Hannibal had turned off the music in his waiting room. The man sitting in the soft, cool, colored room was now subjected to the relentless ticking of the clock in the corner. It should have sounded soft, almost soothing, but the absence of other sounds made it...harsher.
Oddly enough, it made time crawl.
The hour hand had just nudged over with a distinct ‘click’ when the door opened and Hannibal looked into the waiting room, “Mr. Falco? Please, come in.”
👐 Massage my muse’s back, sliding their hands under the shirt
💏 Kiss my muse’s neck, slowly and passionately
(both bc... he doesn't do anything in halves.)
------------
Thera was going to blame the accent. The accent stirring long-ago memories, the way it lilted when he smiled. The way it mixed with bright eyes and an eager, slightly gob-smacked expression, and made all those stupid nonsense things every photographer ever said to his models somehow seem real. It was like pillow talk from fifteen feet away.
It fought a drawn-out battle with both her conscience and common sense, a sharp and insistent lecture from her inner voice that seemed to be holding sway - until the accent called up the artillery. Until Sean came over to adjust her clothes, fingertips ghosting on her skin, and she made an intake of breath loud enough to give him pause.
His lips were on that same spot now, where the collar of her shirt had needed moving away, hands underneath warm and slightly rough. Dammit, had she told him about her neck, or did he just have radar? And did he know that taking his time was ... was ...
Was giving her time to think, and as her brain re-aligned a tension twitched her shoulders and shivered her spine. “Sean ...” Gods, what was she doing? “Sean, wait ... wait.”
She drew back, hands pushing at his shoulders to ease him away. What was she doing? Good gods, woman, he’s not much more than a boy - ! A goofy, romantic, puppy-love of a boy, who didn’t understand the hurt a woman like her could bring. “I don’t ... I don’t know if we should be doing this.”
