Work Text:
Joe had tried many mediums over the years as he explored his art. From his trusty sketchpad to clay to knitting. There were types he found easier than others; poetry was kid-stuff after so long but sculpting had taken him years to get a hang of.
The only consistent feature in his exploration of creativity was his muse. "Do you remember the twenties?"
A smile carved across Nicolo's features, but he didn't look away from his book as he answered, "which twenties, mi amor?"
Joe huffed a laugh, dragging his pen in a new design along his lover's arm. "The nineteen-twenties, when I took up makeup. You looked ravishing in eyeshadow."
Nicky snorted. "I remember you were quite the hotshot back then."
It had been much earlier than the twenties that Joe had first been drawn into the drag scene. Between missions, he would learn from local performers for years. He had taken the teacher's seat in the twenties often using his beautiful Nicky for practice. He still wasn't convinced his students had come for makeup lessons nearly as much as they had come to see his muse.
"Are you saying I'm not a hotshot anymore?" Joe leaned into Nicky's space, drawing the line of ink up the other man's arm.
Nicolo rolled his eyes with a scoff but didn't deign to respond.
Yes, Joe thought, his medium might change again and again. A millennium was too long for one form of art. His muse though, his Nicky, was eternal.