Hi! Its been a minute since I posted something for this so here it goes!
@gallavichthings
-.-.-
It's too much, Ian thinks. The whole setup is wrong, the lights are not doing the model justice, the whole thing is going downhill and the guy knows it.
Black hair, incredible blue eyes, tattoos for days… the guy is a piece of fucking art and the photographer is fucking it up. And the model is scowling and cursing because he knows.
His manager (who is apparently also his sister) is yelling on the phone at someone because of course she is. Once she's done, she starts yelling directly at the photographer, while the model continues scowling in between shots.
Ian is only an apprentice, or so the photographer is always reminding him. He's been working hard for more than two years to learn all there is to learn about cameras, and set ups and poses and… Well. He knows he doesn't have any talent (that is also something the photographer keeps telling him), but when he shows him his pictures, late at night before they go to sleep, Ian knows that he at least has some of the technical parts down. He knows how to frame, he knows how to play with the light, he knows…. Something. And it might not be enough, he might be stuck as this guy's apprentice and fuck toy for the time being, but it's better than what he was doing before so…
The sister/manager is being so loud that the shoot has been paused and the model walked away from the set, towards the catering. It all ends when the photographer decides that this is no way to work and storms off the set, leaving everything behind. Ian disappointedly shakes his head. He is not only going to have to clean everything up and pack their things, he's gonna hear about this for at least a week. He was hoping he could maybe convince the photographer to let him try out some shots in this or the next shoot they have next week, but it's not gonna happen now. Most likely, Ian will be expected to be on his knees several more times than he's used to for the next week or so, sucking the photographer's ego back to health.
“That fucking asshole!”, the sister yells. The guy just leans on a table as he relaxes, “Whatever, Mands. Guy was a total douche. Is the brand sending someone else?”
Mands or, Ian assumes, Mandy, shakes her head, “Everyone else was booked, Mickey. That's why we got stuck with this asshole. But argh! I am going to kill them! They'll probably charge us for this whole fiasco if they don't get their fucking photos!”
Ian has been standing in the sidelines, waiting for them to leave or make some sort of decision so that he can start packing the gear. He knows the photographer is long gone, he's not coming back, and the brand won't send anyone else.
“What about Gingerbread here?” Mickey says, “You're his… assistant?”
“Apprentice”, Ian corrects.
“Ok, so you're taking the pictures!” Mandy says as she jumps towards Ian, “It's all set up, right? You can totally do it”.
Ian shakes his head, “I'm not any good”.
Ian thought his portraits were half decent, after he left the psych ward and got himself a camera. People used to praise his pictures. Now he knows it wasn't true. People were probably just being nice, telling him what he needed to hear throughout his recovery process. “I have no talent”, he says quietly.
Mickey goes over to one of the cameras, grabs it and hands it to Ian. “Come on, tough guy. What's there to lose?”
Ian looks around. Mickey is right, if the pictures are shit well, that's that. But if he manages to get a decent shot or two…
He accepts the camera, “Ok… ok. Let me just…”
Ian gets to work fast. He disconnects a couple of lights and moves another one closer. The whole thing was too intense for Mickey’s white complexion. He also moves the props a little. He knows what the brand asked for (he read the specs) and they need to be closer, it has to be more intimate.
Mickey and Mandy sit quietly while he works. They don’t complain, they don't rush him. Once Ian is done, he glances at Mickey.
“Ok, Red. Where do you want me?”, he says with a smirk.
It flows. Without a fucking hitch. Ian takes a couple of shots, Mandy looks at them and whistles, “You are not going to believe how good these are, Mick”.
Mickey does everything Ian asks of him and more. It's like they're tuned into the same frequency, like they don't even need to verbalize much. They just fucking know.
By the time the brand manager makes an appearance-to put out any fires– according to him, they have more than enough shots to show him and he loves them.
Ian is ecstatic. He took some great pictures, he made it work. He hopes the photographer sees it like that. They won't lose the contract, he'll get credited and paid for Ian's work. It's bittersweet, but the whole experience was worth it.
He smiles to himself as he starts putting away the gear. A few minutes later, he hears heavy boots stop behind him and a little cough. “That was pretty good, Red, you got some talent”.
Ian wishes. “Just luck. You're like, a fucking work of art, man. Pretty hard to fuck up your picture”.
The moment the words come out of his mouth, Ian regrets them. He turns around as he blushes furiously, “I mean. I'm sorry. I'm just. I really am not that good. And I just. You are you, right? A model. You made it easier. I’m sorry”. Ian feels like he might burst into flames; he's that embarrassed.
“Jesus, Red. Imma stop you before you blow up or something. It's ok. The shots are amazing and that's not luck, believe me, I've been doing this for years and people can fuck it up, doesnt matter if the model is perfect. Just look at your… boyfriend? He was doing a shit job”.
“Not my boyfriend”. Ian states. The guy has made it pretty clear that Ian is not only talentless, he's also “not boyfriend material”. He told Ian once that he was a decent apprentice, hot and good in bed, but “another chore” when he gets sick, and “he has enough of those”. So no. Not boyfriend.
“Excelent. That means you're free to go grab a drink after this, right? Say in about an hour? After you're done packing and I'm done with Mandy?” Mickey is smiling and he's asking Ian out and, fuck could this day get any better?
“Yeah, I'm free”.
And the thing is, Ian is already going to hear about this for a week or more. The photographer is going to bitch about the shoot, he's going to flip out when he realizes that Ian took the pictures that the brand is going to use, he might actually fire Ian. Kick him out, too.
So getting home late because Ian just got a date with the hottest model ever, well… He's way past adding insult to injury.
Two hours later, Ian is leaning against the stall door inside a dingy bar that they found a couple of blocks away, getting the best ever blowjob of his entire life, while he stares into blue eyes.
