Work Text:
Mario was an interior designer, so it was him who was supposed to take care of the decoration of their brand new house.
But Marco insisted. He wanted to help. ‘‘I’m not going to sit here and watch you do all the job, Sunny. At least, let me paint the walls.’’
****
A week later, they had their bedroom done. It was big and nice. The bed was in the middle of the room and there was a nightstand at each side of the bed. The walls were painted in a soft orange and the curtains contrasted with a darker tone. Through the window, the beautiful city of Dortmund could be appreciated.
Mario was in love with his creation and Marco loved it even more.
But the rest of the house wasn’t done. And the next step was the living room.
‘‘Mario, please. I just want to help!’’ Marco said, whining, for the fiftieth time. Mario felt bad about it but, he wasn’t going to lie, Marco screwed everything up when he tried to help him. Not that he was going to say it out loud. It would hurt Marco’s feeling and Mario definitely wouldn’t want that.
So, he let him help. And once again, he was sure he was going to regret it: Marco’s inabilities to decorate, not his wide grin after kissing Mario on the forehead.
****
Mario was prepared to start decorating the living room, and it always started with the walls. He went to the future guest room to look for his tools. But the paint buckets were nowhere to be seen. Without them, there would be no decoration.
Marco was not at home, so he had to call him. He was one hundred per cent sure Marco hid them somewhere in the house, or why not, in the garden. After all, their house had a huge garden in the backyard. Mario thought he was about to spend an amazingly pointless amount of time looking for the paint buckets. The fucker.
‘‘I should have never let him buy them and hide them.’’ Mario said to himself, while waiting for Marco to answer his phone.
‘‘Hey Sunny, what happened?’’ Mario always thought Marco’s voice sounded so magical that it could make him fly, but now he didn’t find that magic.
‘‘I need to know where you put the paint buckets, because you know, I want to get some work done now.’’ he replied.
‘‘No, no,’’ was Marco’s answer, ‘‘you’re not getting anything done until I’m home.’’ And just like that, he hung up.
Fucking Marco.
Mario got frustrated and nervous in no time. ‘‘You know what, Reus!?’’ he yelled at his phone, ‘‘I don’t need your help. I’m going to look for them on my own!’’
He dropped the phone on the carpet and stormed out to the kitchen. It didn’t seem like the perfect place to hide two paint buckets but then again, it was Marco he was dealing with. He would totally hide something there.
Nothing. Nichts. Nada.
Think, Mario, think. Where could have Marco hidden them?
He went to the bedroom and looked everywhere and he was about to give up and go to the garden when,
‘‘Oh, no. Marco, no’’ Mario complained when he saw the color of the paint buckets under the bed. ‘‘We’re not painting the walls yellow!’’
Ten minutes later, Marco was greeted by a furious Mario on the doorstep.
‘‘Why do you look so grumpy, Mar?’’ Marco asked, smiling.
‘‘I’ll tell you why!’’ Mario shouted, poking the blond’s chest with his finger. ‘‘You bought yellow paint when I repeatedly told you not to!’’
‘‘You have to be kidding,’’ Marco laughed but stopped when he noticed Mario was being deadly serious. ‘‘Mario, tell me you’re joking.’’
‘‘You never listened and you do whatever the fuck you want.’’ Mario accused and went inside the house, closing the door on Marco’s nose. He sat on the floor with his head against the wall. He heard the door being open and sighed when he felt Marco looking at him.
‘‘I’ll tell you why I did it,’’ Marco said, sitting in front of his boyfriend, ‘‘the owner of the shop said it’s a soft yellow. And I thought it can remind me of you, Sunny,’’ he winked at the pun, ‘‘anyway, there is no need for you to be upset, trust me. I know yellow is a weird color and everyone thinks it’s not a proper color for a living room’s walls but the owner told me his son used it on his walls and they looked beautiful.’’
Marco took Mario’s face with both hands and pressed their foreheads together. ‘‘If you want, I can go back to the shop and change the color, as long as you’re not mad at me anymore.’’
Mario deep breathed and sighed. He totally knew Marco was going to come with an already prepared excuse. But he could give him a chance, couldn’t he? Maybe the walls looked actually okay in yellow.
‘‘No, it’s okay. Let’s paint.’’ That was all he said and that was all Marco needed to smile brightly.
****
The paint session was a pain in the ass, as they always were but with Marco at his side, it was pretty fun.
‘‘Give me the paint brush, Marco! Now!’’ Mario said but all he got was a stroke on his face. ‘‘Oh, is this what you want, isn’t it?’’ he asked and pushed Marco to the floor and marked his shirt with yellow shapes of hands.
‘‘No, no! Mar, stop!’’ Marco giggled, unable to get Mario off of him. The more he tried to stand up, the more Mario pressed himself against him and now the older’s arms and face were covered in yellow paint.
****
When it was all done, Mario sat in the middle of the room and smiled fondly at the wall in front of him. It sounds weird, smiling at a wall, but when you actually feel that your work is worthy, there is nothing better.
Marco hugged Mario from behind and put his head on the other’s shoulder.
‘‘Now when I look at these walls, it will be like I’m looking at my personal sun.’’
Marco could be so lame sometimes. But Mario didn’t care because this was the Marco he fell in love with.