Work Text:
You were a little bit of an artist. Not that you would ever admit it or call yourself that out loud.
Everywhere you went, you always brought a sketchbook with you in order to document your journey. The pieces you draw reflect what's going on in your life.
...It's only natural for you to start to doodle Pagan. Being around him as much as you were, it was only logical. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself as you start drawing him more and more as the days pass. He starts showing up in your sketchbooks more often as you get to know him.
They're all innocent, it's nothing like you doodling him with his shirt off or anything, it's more like him when he's lively and talking on the phone with someone or reaching for something on the top of the cupboard and he has to get on his tippy toes…. It's just moments that are slices of life, of your life now. The mundane… Or, they would be mundane if they weren’t Pagan.
When he discovers it one day you want to die.
You're working on a piece outside, a yak has somehow wandered in a field nearby, past where the guards care. You're drawing it, how it looks surrounded by all the urbanization this area has had done to it. It's eerily serene. (You have a feeling Pagan had noticed you interested in the creature and that’s the reason it hasn’t been removed yet.)
"What are you sketching, darling?" His voice startles you, and you jump when you hear it, almost losing hold of your pencil.
You look up at him as he moves to sit beside you on an empty space of the blanket you had stretched out upon the grass.
Instead of verbally offering an answer you more so hand it to him, allowing him to hold the sketchbook and look for himself. Afterall, this piece wasn’t a bad one. It was looking quite nice, actually. He looks up after a moment, and sees the yak in a similar position. He then looks back down and admires the accuracy appreciatively. "You're a very good artist." He says, almost surprised, continuing to look at the piece in question. "Why hadn't you shared that with me before?" His eyes come up to yours and they seem almost hurt.
You shrug. "I don't draw that much, just when I see something interesting." You say, and before you know it Pagan does the biggest no-no possible. He starts flipping through the pages.
Before you can stop him, he lands on one of the photos of him. It's the one piece you had done of him while he was relaxing one day, leaned against the couch and humming along to the music playing in the background sleepily... He had looked cute. It's more of a sketch, but it is fairly lifelike and you're sure he can tell exactly who it is.
A smile grows on his face and you hide your face in your hands. "So, me in my pajamas is interesting now?" He says, extremely self confident and not with a hint of malice.
Your mouth goes dry. "Listen…" You start, but you have no ground. You don't know where to go with that. You put your head in your hands, giving up an attempt at a rebuttal. If there were any moment for God to strike you down, it would be now. Put you out of your misery. Your intensely embarrassed misery.
"It's alright, love." He lets out a chuckle, and slides his hand slides over your back soothingly. "It doesn't bother me any, you shouldn't be embarrassed." He lets out a small humming noise. “With all of the portraits around, you can tell I’m clearly photogenic.” You hear him pause, mumble something like ‘Or, well, Eric is photogenic, but you understand what I mean.’, but you’re not positive on the wording exactly because it’s said so quietly and quickly that it’s hard to catch.
Regardless of his evident interest in your artwork, you still are not only embarrassed, you're absolutely mortified. In hindsight, maybe you should’ve planned for Pagan discovering your artwork. His interest in you seemed to be endless, it was inevitable for him to eventually find out.
You hear the noise of him turning the pages and that breaks you out of your train of thoughts. Oh God, you tried to remember what else you had drawn in that one. Luckily, nothing too… weird or odd. You didn’t think. Just daily sketches of your surroundings. You know that quite a few of them are Pagan, though. That alone has your heart beating faster as he continues to search through your notebook.
"...You're very good, I must admit." Pagan says, once more, and it's with nothing short of absolute adoration. You're not sure he could have another tone towards you, and if he could, he hadn’t shown it.
Your cheeks are red hot when you look back up at him, and the smile on his face hasn't disappeared. He's on the page you had drawn of the outside of one of the windows, one that overlooked the mountain. Pagan had been admiring it one day in one of his suits when you had decided to sketch him doing such.
One of Pagan's fingers traces the edge slightly, but lightly enough as to where it doesn't smudge the pencil. “We should blow some of these up and hang them in the palace.” He says, and his eyes darted up to you now that you’ve raised your face from your hands. His smile grows wider upon seeing your face, and you can see his eyes tracking the bright shade of red your cheeks and neck have turned. "You look absolutely breathtaking in red, my darling." Pagan says without a hint of sarcasm.
Normally saying something so cheesy and romantic would be saved for the movies, but he seemed to just spout off romantic nonsense all the time… it was kind of nice. Before meeting him, you’re positive you would’ve just rolled your eyes if a man tried something like that with you. If it were anyone else saying it, it would come out sounding fake. Forced. Someone wouldn’t say something like that to you unless they want something from you and were trying to butter you up with compliments. With Pagan, it comes out as naturally as breathing. He really did live to see you blush.
Your eyes move down, not being able to handle the intense eye contact for a long period of time, especially not when he was looking at you like you were the most important thing in the world. "Thanks." You say simply, knowing that his compliment does nothing but redden your cheeks further.
It looks like it pleases him, if his continued smile is anything to go by, but he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he quirks his head back to the palace. “Let’s go see what Gary can do about blowing some of these up.” He says, holding the sketchbook in one of his hands. He sounded very sure of himself already, like he wouldn't take no for an answer. He made a move to stand up, and offered you a hand so you could do the same.
It was hard to argue with Pagan, especially when he was determined to do something. “Alright.” You say, and you take his hand.