Chapter Text
The smell of paint clogs his senses, he hates it almost, but he loves doing stuff with Techno. It was straightforward, and he usually gets bored with it after a while. He still makes an effort to do it however. So yeah, he’ll watch him paint for a bit. He expects it to be boring at the very least, but he watches Techno work and he's mesmerized, like everything Techno does. It helps that Techno lets his head sit on the painting man’s leg, him sitting on the ground.
Technoblade is so patient, he works with skill, he must have spent years learning the basics, techniques, becauses he’s doing things that he knows must’ve taken hours upon hours to learn and even then not do well, let alone make look good.
Technoblade tells him all the time that art is subjective, everything looks good to the beginning painter, because art is art, it shouldn’t be held to standards or compared without reason. Quackity didn’t really get it but he just knew that Technoblade’s art was pretty to him.
He brings Technoblade water, as his fingers turn different colors, and he makes Techno take a break before his wrist starts to hurt. Feeding him grapes as he painted and Techno rolls his eyes at him, little pieces of sentiments that he knows the man enjoys.
“Paint me.” He jokes, and it probably is an asshole move from how Techno stares at him in disdain, like he had said something personally offensive.
“You want me to paint you.” He says it like a statement, not unlike the cold edge of table in the cold mornings they had shared, stark in temperature and harsh. Quackity hopes he looks apologetic to his husband as he answers.
“Sure, if you want, uh, sorry babe-”
Technoblade stuffs the paintbrush in his face and messily marks all over it. Quackity scrambles away and starts screeching in mild surprise. Trying to wipe it off but spreading it all over his hands instead.
“Techno come on, is this even washable paint? What if it gets on my clothes?”
“Don’t speak, let me talk, if you really want me to speak my mind.”
Techno grabs the paint and spreads it down his finger as he looks Quackity in the eyes. Slowly bringing it to the man’s face, marking him in blue paint that leaves an almost distracting weight on his face and covers him in blue.
“You look good in navy blue.” The avian doesn’t say a word, like he promised Techno. The piglin hybrid stares at him. “Take your shirt off.” And Techno sets the paintbrush down with a small thud and breathes on the paint. Quackity pauses as the moment passes before them both, and then takes off his shirt with no complaint and reprimand. He has been naked in front of the man many times before. He struggles with his wings for a second but Techno does not seem to mind.
“You would look nice covered in blood.” Quackity must make a face because Techno laughs and slaps the red paint on his shoulder, going down his side and the coldness of it makes him squirm. It feels alienating and he can see this paint, and it is blood red, bright and toxic looking.
“Do you want to know why?” Quackity hates rhetorical questions, with all his soul and fury. Hearing Technobalde ask them like this, feels like he’s being ripped apart by his mind and panting, his arms are shaking where he’s leaning back on them, He’s so sensitive to Technoblade’s touch.
“You make me want to fight, to be a soldier for someone, you would never have to ask me.” Quackity is blushing so hard he wonders if it's the same color on his side. “Wanna just, is that weird Quackity? You wanted me to be honest with you, I want to see you painted in my colors.”
He picks up the white and slowly puts it in Quackity’s hair, “I’m wasting paint you know, doing this, anyway the white is for you to suffer getting it out later.” Quackity squawks and has to stop himself from swatting at him, his wings fluffing up in irritation as he lets Techno sit his fingers in his hair again and again.
“You look so beautiful,” Quackity can’t breathe when Techno brings his gold paint out, something he usually never does, he only saves it for a few things. He opens his mouth to tell him to stop and Technoblade shakes his head.
“I’m going to use every drop of this on you.” Quackity stands up abruptly and Techno just puts it straight on his hand. For some reason he feels like Techno can’t do this, like it’s breaching something important to him. Technoblade takes his hand, and waits for the man to sit down again, staring at him and smiling again. Quackity feels like he is swallowing a rock for a moment, feeling touched.
“Techno-”
“I don’t think you get it, Quackity, how much you mean to me.” Techno says, and he pulls the avian into a kiss and smears paint down Quackity’s back, and Quackity chirps and shivers at the cold feeling and Techno just swallows the noises whole. He can’t help but wonder how it looks compared to his bright colored wings, some feathers dark, and if the difference was appealing.
“You are so beautiful, you feel like one of the points of my life, and I love you, you color my life, every day and every moment and every minute. I wake up thinking of where you are, or if you would be interested in what I am doing, or to show it to you later because you like looking at things, yah know?” Techno’s words brush against his mouth, soft and open.
Quackity wants to interrupt him and say ‘Because of you. I like seeing you talk about things you like and figure out the workings of, because of you. When you learn just to tell me later, or when you take notes about things I say. And I love you for it.’
If Quackity had to say how he felt in that moment, he would say a soft orange, like the hints in fire or in the sunrise in small places. Like the specks in Techno’s eyes or the little signs of it in the other man’s paintings.
Technoblade is so thoughtful, he thinks a lot, it makes him laugh into the man’s mouth, and kiss back. Until his paint covered skin is ruining Techno’s clothes, and the man pulls him into his lap to grab at him, gruffing irritably when Quackity gets paint in his hair.
“I change my mind, stop kissing me. You are getting the paint all over me.” Technoblade still kisses him back after he says it, and Quackity giggles. “This is not the smartest thing we have done.”
“It’s your turn to wash the clothes anyway.” Technoblade is just unclasping his cloak, and Quackity works on his shirt as soon as he gets the other piece of clothing off. His hands rub small bits of paint on his lover, and he snickers at the irony.
“You always get me dirty.” Technoblade says, looking at the small stains as the avian runs his hands down his sides and bites his collarbones.
“It’s a cool thing to do, not going to lie.” Technoblade puts his paints on the table and ignores the man sucking marks on him.
Quackity wheezes when he is picked up off the piglin hybrid’s lap.
“Let’s go wash the paint off and then you can be nasty.”
“Coward,” The paint felt pretty dry on him, he had no idea what kind it was, and it wasn’t fast drying like some of the paint Techno used.
Technoblade paused in the middle of the hall and let out a small “bruh”.
“Paint fuck or it didn’t happen.”
Technoblade makes a face at him. Quackity bends over laughing when the man walks away from him with a pinched face.