Work Text:
When the front door of the house opened, Rafayel could hear the irate voice of his visitor complaining bitterly about 'stupid defective cups'. As she entered the studio, he caught sight of the damp brown stain on her gown and didn't bother hiding his grin. “You only got as far as the door and you already spilled your coffee on yourself?" As her head came up to glare at him, his smile widened. “Is Linkon City really safe in the hands of such a clumsy hunter?”
"I could just turn around and go back where I came from," she grumped, though she dropped her purse on the sofa and started to head towards the bathroom.
Rafayel reached out and caught her wrist, holding up a mostly clean rag. “Let’s see. Your clothes…” He reached up to begin dabbing at the stain, then froze mid-reach. “… Sorry, I forgot you spilled your coffee on your…”
Her ears were as red as his. "Uh. Yeah…"
“It’s my fault. Um…” Rafayel hurriedly released her wrist and backed up several steps, wracking his brain to find a solution that kept her there. Ah! “Go through the living room and turn left.”
She frowned at him, but when he gave her an expectant look she shrugged and began to follow his directions. He trailed behind her, clucking his tongue as she paused to study his latest work. “...Not there. I’m not asking you to look at that painting.”
She glanced over her shoulder at him. "It's new?"
He smiled and gestured for her to keep going. “Yeah, it’s one I just finished. But no matter how good it looks, it can wait. Keep going.” They continued down the hall and when she reached the right spot, he halted her and indicated the door. She pushed it open, frowning in confusion. “It’s the coatroom. Shouldn’t you know my house like the back of your hand?”
Her eyes slid to him. "It's a lot like you. Always full of surprises."
His grin was bright. “Just pick something and put it on. That way it won’t be awkward when I look at you…” Even as he spoke, his eyes strayed down towards the stain, then shot back up. Without a word, he turned on heel and strode from the room, shutting the door behind him. Though tempted to linger, he figured he could go get things set up for the lesson.
A few minutes later, he heard the sound of her slippers against the tiles of his floor. “You done changing?” he asked as he glanced up, then froze, his brain short-circuiting. “H- how come you…”
She glanced down at herself. She was wearing one of his button-down shirts, the cuffs falling over her hands and the hem skimming the middle of her thighs. Her bare thighs. "I was wearing a dress," she pointed out, frowning. "And you only had shirts in there."
“Yeah, it was a dress you were changing out of… B-but this shirt is a bit too…” His brain didn't want to reengage, being stuck somewhere between her hips and her knees. “Um…” With a herculean effort, Rafayel dragged his eyes back up to meet her amused gaze. “Can you remind me what we were gonna do today?”
She arched an eyebrow, a slight smile hovering at the edges of her lips. "We had a lesson planned..?"
Slowly the gears began to move again. “Oh, right… You wanted me to teach you how to draw…” He started to reach out to guide her, but changed his mind before he could actually touch her. “Over here. Sit on the sofa.”
As she settled down, he tried his best not to notice that the hem of the shirt rode up along her legs. He glanced at his easel, then made a quick detour to pick up a sketchbook instead.
Something on his lap might just be a good idea.
When he noticed her curious look, he shrugged. “I don’t need a easel. I’ll just use a sketchbook.” Settling down at her side, he flipped open the sketchbook and began looking for a clean page. But the flashes of her skin against the white of his shirt kept distracting him. “Are you… cold? Need a blanket for your knees?”
She shook her head at him, looking at him as though he were just a bit mad. "Rafayel, it's pretty warm today. I'm not cold. I'll be fine."
Rafayel wasn't sure if he was pleased by her answer or distressed. “True. It is 78 degrees today. Of course you’re not cold…” He found a blank page and stared at it, his mind as empty as the paper. “Didn’t your squad say you could use any art medium for Culture Week? Why do you wanna draw by hand?”
She stared at the sketchbook. "I just thought it would be something different, and I knew I had this great artist friend who could help me… But, if I'm distracting you from your work, I can always…"
He reached out to stop her from rising. “You don’t feel guilty for troubling me, right?” When she slowly shook her head, he patted her arm then drew his hand back, positioning his pencil over the paper. “Look, this is…”
He tried to draw something, but those flashes of skin and the heat of her gaze on his hands kept distracting him. “You… Don’t stare at me. I forget how to draw when someone does that.”
Her brow wrinkled in that cute way it did when she was puzzled. "How else am I supposed to learn if I don't watch you?
Right. “Alright. Learning to draw does require staring…” Swallowing, he concentrated on the sketchpad, trying for the same extreme focus that allowed him to paint for days on end without sleep or food. Slowly, steadily, a sketch came to life beneath his pencil - it was crude, and hardly up to his usual standards, but at least it was a start.
"Is that… it's very nice," she said, changing her words mid-sentence.
He sent her a dubious glance, then flipped the page to a fresh sheet and offered her the pad. “You… You try now.”
She took the sketchbook and pencil, setting the latter between her fingers. With her tongue caught between her teeth, she began to sketch. Unconsciously, he leaned closer, his warm breath washing over her neck as he peered over her shoulder. “What did you draw?”
She frowned at the page. "Can't you tell?" Eying the jumble of lines and shapes on the page, she blew out an annoyed breath. "It's supposed to be Reddie."
Manfully, Rafayel suppressed his chuckle, recognizing her dismay. He tapped a clear spot on the page, then shifted closer and laid his finger upon the paper. “I’ll show you how.”
She glanced at him sidelong, her gaze brushing along his neck that was right next to her face, then took a deep breath and focused on following his lead. As his finger moved across the page, she tried to follow it, but Rafayel could see she was struggling. When she began to lift her pencil from the paper, he wrapped his arm over her shoulder then closed his hand over hers. “Don’t stop there. I’ll help.”
It wasn't his imagination that her breathing quickened at his touch. "I - Raf…"
“It’s okay…” he murmured, not bothering to suppress his satisfied smile. “Don’t be afraid to draw.” His fingers clasped hers loosely as he began to guide her hand across the page. “You have to move your hand with mine like this…”
Their joined hands moved in unison across the page, and slowly, pencil marks began to cover the page. “Gently now. One stroke, all the way down. Think of it like breathing in and breathing out.”
Though he noticed she seemed to be having problems with that, too. For some reason, he found himself quite pleased to realize it. Setting his lips by her ear, he began to breathe at a steadily measured pace. Her own breathing steadied and began to match his own. “Good job.”
She stared at the page and the simple fish they'd begun to draw. Nervously, she began to lift the pencil, but Rafayel's hand tightened on hers. “Come on, you can be braver than that," he urged. With his gentle guidance, she added more strokes to the fish.
Finally, she glanced at his profile. "What else should I do?"
He glanced down, his eye meeting hers. “This is your art. You decide what to do with it.” His fingers cradled hers as he guided her hand to a place on the fish. “For example, you can use some more strength here…”
The sketch was slowly coming to life when she abruptly jerked the pencil from the page, sliding it free of his grasp. He frowned at her. “Why did you stop drawing?”
Rubbing the back of her hand, she looked everywhere but him, and he noticed that her ears had grown flushed. "You're getting a bit damp there."
He raised an eyebrow and lifted his hand to study it. “My palm’s sweaty?” Big surprise there. Studying that blush again, he reached down and skimmed his finger along her arm. She jerked against him, but didn't move away, and her breathing went just a bit ragged once more. “Heh," he murmured, "...that’s not the only issue.”
Bolder now, recognizing that he wasn't the only one affected by the situation, Rafayel leaned in, taking a deep breath as he neared her neck. “Are you using a new perfume?” He inhaled again and she shivered beneath his arm. Curious, he dipped his head a bit lower and sniffed again, then smiled slowly. “My shirt is covered in your scent now.”
"I- I," she began to stammer, but he ignored her.
“And by being this close to you, I’m also covered in your scent.” He inhaled one more time. “I don’t know if I’m imagining it… But I think our scents have merged into one.”
Lulled by his soft voice and the heat of his body, she turned her head and drew in a breath laden with her scent and his. "Has it?" she asked softly.
His arm tightened around her shoulder, drawing her against him. “If you move closer to me, it might become even more obvious.”
She was close enough that when she lifted her head to sniff at his neck, her nose brushed his skin and he inhaled sharply. "So…" she said dreamily. "What…?"
“...What should we do?" he finished for her. "My palms are sweaty. Maybe I’m not in the right condition to teach you.” When she began to stir and shift away from him, he realized his mistake. “Why don’t we start from the basics? Like how to hold a pencil.”
She settled down again and he plucked the pencil from her grasp, spinning it through his fingers as he demonstrated several ways to hold a pencil. “You do it like this… or this…”
"Uhm," she said, frowning at his hand as she tried to grasp his demonstration as if through a foggy haze in her head.
“If you take it step-by-step, you’ll learn faster," he reassured her. After taking a moment to study her grasp, he caught part of the problem. “Your sleeve is too long. Roll it up like this…” His fingertips brushed feather-light over the back of her hand to the cuff of the sleeve, and he began to roll it up. “Expose your wrist.”
She reached over to help, their fingers brushing as they continued to roll the cuff up until it was nearly to her elbow. "There." Once it was settled, she took the pencil in hand once more.
Rafayel stroked her forefinger. “Curl your finger… Mmm, curl it a bit more.” Dissatisfied, he shook his head, then made a hook with his finger. “Here, take my finger.” She stared at it, then gently looped hers around it. “Hook it with your index finger. That’s what you need to do…”
As his finger tightened, so did hers, and he smiled. “Do it tightly. Don’t leave any space," he whispered in her ear, his warm breath stirring strands of her hair, and she sucked in a breath, quivering against him. “What’s wrong?" he teased lightly, lips so close they almost brushed her ear. "You’re just learning how to hold a pencil.”
The pencil clattered to the floor
“Do you wanna stop for today?” Though his voice was light, there were already surging undercurrents of something much darker.
She stared at the pencil on the ground. "I - I'm having trouble concentrating."
His chuckle vibrated through her. “It’s still early. I can teach you later.” Reaching down, he drew his finger up her bare forearm, leaving a trail of heated skin in its wake. “You know… I can teach you things I’m good at pretty easily.”
They both knew his words had nothing to do with drawing, or even art. "R- Rafayel."
“In any case, don’t worry.” His lips grazed her ear, and he reached up to cup her cheek, turning her head to face him. “I’ll make sure to teach you well…”