remy.

Remy stilled at that whispered words as his head turned back to stare over at the boy as he left. A little smile on his face as he ducked his head.  A compliment like that was the way to Remy’s heart. and it was’nt quite the compliment he’d been expecting from the other. Remy brushed any thoughts of how Blaine would look under the spray of his shower, those broad shoulders or his perfect ass and instead tried to focused on his art, leaning over the counter as he dipped his brush into the paint and started to draw it along the canvas. The pink haired boy dropped the brush to fix his long hair as the other walked out of the shower, his eyebrow arched as he noticed those old sweatpants. He’d seen his brother wear them enough times to know what they were but he did’nt say anything about them.  He was silent as he watched Blaine admiring his art, his own eyes soaking in the others strong features and the way he looked with wet hair.  “A better grade? Now I know you’re flattering me. Besides, art can’t be graded. That’s just some school bullshit. Art is…something that makes you feel.” He said lightly as he tapped the end of the paint brush against the canvas. “You’re not bothering me…” He said lightly as he pressed his lips together. “In fact…how about you model for me? You can lay on the couch…And I’ll draw you?” He said as he rounded the table. “You can even take off your shirt for me.” He teased as a hand reached out to pluck at the others shirt. “You can inspire some art.” 

“Unfortunately?  That school bullcrap is something I still have to go through the ringer for while paying a hefty price to be thoroughly wrung,” Blaine laughed and hoisted his shoulders in a shrug.  “Crappy how that works out, huh?  You pay them big bucks to make you wonder what the heck you’re doing with your life and how much of a stamina you can have against torture.” He was a performer and a musician and a writer.  A painter?  Not so much.  Looking down at what he held in his arms–Blaine gave it another squeeze and glanced back up with a relieved smile when Remy let him know he wasn’t annoying him.  The pillow was getting warmer against his chest and the threadbare shirt that he loved even though it hung a little loose on his frame was comforting and perfect. One of the reasons why being here always felt so good.  Remy being here was new though.  Maybe the familiarity of the face watching him made this feel easier.  Or Remy was naturally easy to be near.  Either way?  He liked the company. Blaine double blinked and his lips parted like he was about to ask if Remy was serious.  Model for him? Stunned–the pillow hit the floor and he didn’t bend to pick it up as the pink haired painter came closer.  He was fresh out of a shower, not anywhere near put together and Remy wanted him to pose?  “I..,” he flushed a few shades of pink.  Make that pose topless–okay then.  “I’m not sure what kind of art I can inspire wearing your brother’s old lounge pants and shower hair–,” he felt his stomach swirl with the pluck to his shirt.   Was it weird that it didn’t feel bad?  Quite..the opposite.  “I don’t know.  You might just end up wishing you stuck to painting once this–,” his eyes darted up to indicate his hair, “starts becoming a tangled, curly mess?”