Work Text:
One of Foolish’s hands slips, and he curses.
“Sorry.” Eret murmurs.
“No, no, no worries.” Foolish gives an easy smile. His smiles are always so easy, so freely given. “Not you.”
Faer hands keep shaking.
The detail work on the small statue isn’t as good as Eret thinks it should be. Fae’s just not good at this, at things that require any sort of coordination. The paintbrush in faer hand won’t stay steady, and the lines aren’t exactly even, and fuck, fae’s trying so hard, and fae feels…
Deep breaths, in and out. In and out. It doesn’t steady faer hands, but it steadies faer mind.
Fae’s not inadequate. Foolish asked faer to help for a reason. Foolish wanted faer handiwork, shaky lines and all.
“What’cha painting?” Foolish looks over at faer. He’s got a slightly bigger statue in his hand, and the detailing is so intricate Eret kind of wants to cry.
“Just kind of… shapes. Lines.” Eret tilts the statue in faer hand, careful not to smudge the wet paint. The statue, made of beautiful dark oak wood, has been carefully whittled into the form of a sitting cat. It’s a little bit bigger than faer hand. Fae’s been trying to paint along the pre-existing lines in the wood, and even though they’re uneven and shaky, fae’s been pretty good at not beating faerself up over it.
“It looks cool!” Foolish means what he says. He’d been the one to create the figures, steady hands able to create whatever he wants. He’s carving while Eret paints, this time creating a bird out of reddish jungle wood. He might ask Eret to paint this one too. Fae doesn’t know how to feel about that.
“Thank you.”
The paint is gold.
It’s a beautiful contrast.
Gently, carefully, Eret fills in the eyes with gold, and uses gentle flicks of faer wrist to make whiskers. They’re very asymmetrical, but the handiwork is faer’s, so it’s good. Fae assures faerself of that.
There’s a reason fae typically creates on a much larger scale.
This is still nice.
“I think it needs time to dry before I do any more.” Eret sets the statue down on the table in front of faer.
Foolish looks up from what he’s doing, bird half-formed in his hand. Both of its wings are outstretched. One is still only a rough outline, but the other has the beginnings of feathers. It looks intricate. It looks beautiful. It looks like something Eret could never create.
That’s okay.
“I like it!” Foolish beams. “It reminds me of you!”
Eret blushes. Fae can’t help it. “Thank you.” With hands devoid of something to do, fae begins to twist faer fingers together in a fidget. “Can I sit next to you and watch you work?”
“Of course!”
The seat next to Foolish is comfortable. Fae wants to rest faer head on his shoulder, but that would interrupt his work. His hands are sure, steady, stable, and Eret’s never been one to not feel envy, to not want for more than fae already has.
“I could show you how to carve sometime, if you want.” Foolish offers.
Eret shifts a little. Faer words are barely distinguishable. “It wouldn’t be as good as yours.”
Foolish laughs once, but not at faer. “You’re not me.”
“True.”
Maybe someday fae’ll learn. For now, the stripes on the cat dry, and a bird in flight takes shape.