Work Text:
Shay is people watching when the assignment comes in. They're doing figure drawing in class, so Shay has a sketchbook out, more than half filled already with rough pencil sketches and practice drawings of the people that pass.
The coffee shop offers relative quiet and a table at the window where she can sit and watch the people who pass. Its warmth is welcome against the briskness of the autumn that has been dying all the leaves brown and gold, the coffee is decently priced and the service. Well.
The barista is a beautiful black woman with long curly hair dyed white and graceful movements. Her nametag identifies her as Allura, and it's not a name Shay has ever heard before but it seems fitting, somehow. Strange and enticing like the girl herself.
Allura is always friendly, smiles at Shay when she comes in and chats with her when taking her order while still giving her her privacy. Not once has she asked to see her drawings, and Shay is grateful, because she's always been a little insecure about her talent and the ease with which some of her classmates show off still amazes her.
Now, she's doubly grateful, because Shay doesn't know how the other woman would feel about how prominently she stars in her sketches. It had started with Shay simply noticing how pretty Allura was; and the occasional study and close up of elegant hands cradling a cup had turned into pages and pages of sketches.
Shay feels embarrassed, really, and knows she should talk to her, at least ask permission - but that risks admitting to her strange infatuation and she doesn't know how Allura will react to it, if the barista is even... interested, in that kind of thing.
Her laptop pings where it sits on the table, neglected in favour of the quick sketch she was doing of Allura's profile with her hair pinned up into a bun, and she puts down the pencil and opens the new email she just received.
Her eyes widen when she scans the email from her professor informing them all of their assignment, which will be their practical final and make up... how much of their grade?!
"Everything alright?" A voice asks, and Shay looks up from where she's slumped over dramatically next to her laptop. Allura smiles at her, a hint of concern on her face as she refills her empty cup.
"Finals," Shay just says, and the way Allura winces in sympathy tells her she gets it. When she draws up a chair and sits down, Shay blinks in surprise before darting a look around. But the coffee shop is deserted save for the two of them, so it's not like Allura is in risk of getting in trouble for slacking off, and she smiles back hesitantly.
"You're an art major, right?"
Shay nods, blushing as she looks down, and Allura's smile turns teasing.
"The paint stains on your shirt were a bit of a give away," she confides. "That, and the sketchbook you carry around. Some days you have charcoal dust on your fingers, too."
Surprised, Shay glances down at her hands, which are uncharacteristically clean today; she didn't have the time to break out the charcoal yet, probably won't until she gets home for fear of making a mess. "Art is messy," she says. "Charcoal especially gets everywhere. Once, I spent an entire afternoon with a smudge across my face, and didn't realise until I went to brush my teeth before bed."
Allura throws back her head and laughs - and something traiterous in Shay's stomach does a somersault. "That's terrible!", Allura exclaims, eyes dancing with mirth. "Didn't anyone tell you?"
"Well... I assume the people that noticed thought it was funny. But really, us art students aren't always the most observant, so maybe nobody even noticed..."
"You lot do tend to get lost in your work," Allura confirms. "I hardly dare approach you for fear of interrupting anything important."
Shay flushes. Had her being shy and reserved come across as... closed off? She hopes not.
"You didn't interrupt anything," she hurries to deny. "I was just..."
"Despairing over a final? I know the feeling."
"It's a graded practical work. A painting," Shay explains, when Allura looks curious. "On canvas, using a life model. I'm used to figure drawings in class, or sketching passersby, but I don't know how I'm going to do this. Most models are pretty expensive, and I'm, well... pretty broke."
That had a lot to do with the fact she kept going out and buying endless cups of coffee just to be close to her crush. Sigh.
"I could do it," Allura offers, and Shay almost drops her cup.
The other girl misses her wide-eyed look, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and looking oddly embarrassed. When Shay doesn't respond, she continues: "I mean, I'm no professional or anything. I don't really know what I'm doing..."
She trails off and Shay blurts out "Please!" before the other girl can talk herself out of it.
"Please," she repeats. "If you're OK with it, you would be doing me a huge favour. I'll... I can probably get you a gift card, or something..."
"We'll figure something out," Allura promises, and her smile makes the heat rise to Shay's cheeks. She's not sure how this happened, and it's probably a terrible idea, considering the whole one-sided crush thing, but she can't stop her lips from curling into an answering grin.
They make plans for that weekend. Allura gives her her phone number and a flustered Shay texts her the adress of her apartment.
She's nervous about this, but Shay is also excited; Allura really is beautiful, and it's an incredible honour to be allowed to try and capture that on canvas.
When the doorbell rings, she casts a panicked look around to make sure her apartment is mostly clean before hurrying down the stairs to open the door.
Allura... looks no different than usual but at the same time seems more relaxed. More open. She smiles when Shay leads her up the stairs, cracks a joke when she apologises for living on the fourth floor, and looks around the apartment curiously when they arrive.
"It's not much," Shay says, and that's true enough. The apartment is one room, basically, with a tiny kitchen and small bathroom leading off; she doesn't have a dining room table and the bed is squashed into a corner to make room for a large easel by the window, where the light is best. The wooden floor is covered by newspaper to protect it from stray drops of paint and several brushes, cups and paints are scattered around haphazardly.
"I like it," Allura says. She leaves her handbag by the floor and steps up to the easel. There's a pile of papers there, drawings from class, and Allura bends down to inspect them but pauses and asks first: "May I?"
Shay confirms it before leaving her to it. She grabs the chocolate chip cookies and soda she picked up at the store earlier and offers them to Allura, who takes a cookie with a small smile.
"These are good," she offers, carefully leafing through. "I don't really know anything about art," she admits sheepishly. "So I can't give you a nuanced critique or anything, but they're very good."
"T-Thank you," Shay says, flustered at the praise but pleased.
"You're welcome," Allura says, and wow, her eyes crinkle when she smiles and Shay should really stop staring right about now.
"Um," she says, eloquently. "How long can you model for today?"
"I have plans at six," Allura says apologetically. "But until then I'm yours."
"That's, uh, fine. I wanted to do some sketches today, in different poses, and then maybe we could meet up again for the oils?"
Receiving a nod, Shay continues on: "We can take breaks whenever you need to, and if there's anything you're not comfortable... with..." She trails off, stunned, because Allura just started striping.
Something that sounds a lot like an undignified squeak escapes Shay and, blushing furiously, she looks away.
Allura pauses from where she had been shrugging out of her jeans and looks unsure. "Oh. I thought..."
She looks incredibly embarrassed and Shay hurries to reassure her: "You can! That would be, uh, great, but if you're not comfortable... I didn't want to assume..."
"It's fine by me." Allura says, but she looks kind of awkward, now, so Shay turns away to give her some privacy. She needs to turn up the thermostat, although she winces when she thinks of the heating bill.
She sets out pieces of charcoal, a can of hairspray and several sheets of paper, arranges everything within easy reach and looks up.
I can work with this, she thinks, looking at the slender lines of Allura's limbs, the roundness of her hips. With a piece of charcoal in hand, it's easier to view her like an artist, to ask her calmly to raise her arms or turn her head, without getting flustered at the sheer amount of skin she can see.
Time passes like that, with Shay sketching out messy lines that follow the flow of her body, adding details and shading more like an afterthought.
Allura winces, lowering her arms where they'd been poised in a haphazard bras en couronne. "Arm fell asleep," she says a little sheepishly, and Shay glances at the clock.
Her eyes widen. "God, I'm so sorry... We should take a break." She'd gotten so caught up in drawing...
But Allura doesn't seem to mind, even looks faintly amused. "Artists." she says fondly.
Shay flushes, dropping the pen and getting up. She gets a flannel shirt out from the cardboard box serving as a closet and passes it to Allura.
It's loose on even Shay, so Allura is practically swimming in it, and there are creases from where it had been folded, but it's reasonably clean and Allura does look more at ease with something to cover up with.
"Are you hungry?" Shay asks, trying to remember if there's anything in her fridge. Probably not.
To her relief, Allura shakes her head, but sneaks another cookie and sits down on the couch. "A cup of tea, maybe?" she asks hopefully, and Shay nods and heads to the kitchen and carefully washes her hands to get rid of the charcoal dust.
She doesn't have a kettle, so she has to heat up some water in the microwave, but she does have some teabags in one of the cupboards. "Milk or sugar?", she calls, and Allura replies with a "Milk, please." Well. She is british.
Shay hands her the cup and pours herself a glass of orange juice. They sit and drink in comfortable silence and, again, Shay has to force herself not to stare.
This is just so domestic, sitting together on Shay's tiny couch. Allura looks so... cosy, somehow, wearing Shay's worn shirt - which does nothing to cover her long legs - and cradling the chipped mug delicately in her hands. (Shay quietly itches for her sketchbook and pencil, to capture the moment)
"There's dried paint on this cup," Allura notes, quiet and fond.
"Ah. Yes. But it's clean..." The hopefully goes unspoken.
"It's endearing. Your entire apartment is," Allura clarifies. "It's just so... you. Clearly, art is your passion."
Shay blushes, but nods. "Has been since I was a kid." Unwilling to let the conversation die, she taks on: "What about you?"
"Hm?"
"I mean, your passion. What are you majoring in?"
"Math and Physics," Allura says, and looks amused at the surprised look Shay can't quite hide. "Not quite what you were expecting, I take it."
Shay huffs an embarrassed laugh. "Not really. I was thinking... journalism, maybe. You're very eloquent."
"Thank you, Shay," she smiles. "No, I'm aiming to become a theoretical physicist. And while that still involves writing..."
"Not really the same thing."
"No," Allura agrees, and they share a smile. After a moment, Shay clears her throat and puts down the glass on the nearby coffee table.
"Back to work?" she suggests, and Allura nods and takes another sip of her tea. When she stands up and starts unbuttoning the flanel shirt, Shay walks over to the bed and grabs her duvet.
She spreads it across the floor, then explains: "I thought we could do a few with you sitting, or lying, if that's alright?"
"Sure," Allura says, kneeling down gingerly. "How do you want me?"
You have no idea, Shay thinks, immediately blushing, before directing her to take the pose she'd had in mind. She hesitates before asking: "Do you... Could you maybe, um, let your hair down?"
Allura obliges and her curls tumble down her shoulders, framing her face and reaching down to her waist. Gorgeous, Shay thinks, looking at the way her hair cascades down in waves and almost seems to glow against her dark skin.
After a second of staring, Shay reaches for the charcoal and paper. She does her best to capture the sinuous lines, the effortless grace Allura radiates, but she's not sure she can. There's something about the other woman that would be impossible to confine to paper.
Again, she gets lost in her work, the occasional murmur of instructions and the quet scratch of the charcoal the only sound until suddenly something starts beeping.
"It's my phone," Allura says, apologetic. She gets up from where she's positioned and walks over to her handbag, digging through it until she finds what she's looking for and the beeping cuts off.
"It's almost six," Shay realises, looking at the clock. "Wow. Sorry, I didn't mean to keep you this long..." But Allura waves her protests off, already putting on her underwear.
"It's fine," she assures her, pulling on clothes. "I don't mind. If I didn't have plans already, I would stay longer. Did you get everything you needed?"
Shay looks around at the dozens of sketches around her and nods. "Yes. I'll have something worked out by next time."
"Good," Allura says, somehow already dressed. "Call me with the details, will you? I really do have to get going."
She sounds so honestly regretful that Shay can't help the way her heart speeds up. She walks her to the door of her apartment, saying: "Thank you, again, for doing this. It must have been boring, just standing around..."
But Allura shakes her head. "I had fun," she says, smiling. "See you soon?"
"See you soon," Shay echoes, before closing the door behind her.
Shay calls her a few days later and they make plans for Saturday, again.
Her nervousness/excitement at having Allura in her apartment has skyrocketed compared to last time, because she's picked out her favourite sketch and polished it up some and now she's going to show it to Allura and she's maybe sort of proud of how this one turned out?
If Allura doesn't like it, she thinks, I will probably be too embarrassed to ever talk to her again. Which would be a shame, because she likes talking to her - likes her, period.
She anxiously eyes the canvas with her work. It's not done yet, still rough around the edges, but with Allura there she thinks she will better be able to capture the play of light on those curves, the way her hair curls at her nape.
The doorbell rings, so she hurries and buzzes her up. When Allura walks into her apartment, her eyes immediately zero in on the canvas, and a soft gasp escapes her.
"Shay...", she says, reverent. "It's beautiful."
"It's not finished yet but... uh, thank you. I have a very talented model," Shay says, a little lamely.
Allura laughs, clear and bright and obviously amused by her awkwardness, and Shay can feel herself starting to blush so she quickly says: "I can send you some pictures, if you like, of my work process?"
"Please," Allura confirms, and Shay nods and tries not to fidget before she bursts out with an insecure: "You really like it?"
"I do. Again, I don't know much about art, but I can see talent when it's standing right infront of me. And this is amazing, even a lay person can see that."
"Oh. Um. That's good. That you like it."
Allura gives her a brilliant smile. "Now, what do you need me for?"
"Right. Well, if you could, I'd like you to take that pose again," Shay indicates the canvas, "so I can compare the lighting, and shading. And add some details. It's better than just drawing from memory, because I can see how it looks in reality and work from that. It shouldn't take long."
When Allura nods her assent and starts taking off her clothes, Shay gathers her supplies and kneels infront of her canvas. She turns on the radio, set to the classical music station, after confirming Allura doesn't mind, and gets to work.
Brushstroke after careful brushstroke, she accentuates and obscures line and tries to capture what she feels, looking at Allura, in her artwork. She follows the lines of her body with something close to worship, adds errant strands of hair and the way her eyes light up, and watches the painting come alive underneath her fingers.
After a while, she tells Allura she can get dressed and thanks her absent-mindedly, still focused entirely on the canvas in front of her.
When she finishes up, her hand is cramping and her knees hurt, but she's satisfied with her work. She drops her brush in surprise when she looks up and finds Allura still in her apartment, curled up on the couch and reading a book she must have brought with her.
Trying and failing to wrap her head around the fact that Allura has reading glasses and they look unfairly cute, Shay clears her throat. "Sorry. I didn't realise..."
Allura looks up and smiles. "You seemed pretty focused on what you were doing, I didn't want to interrupt."
"Thank you," Shay says, and means it. She gets up carefully, stretching until her back pops before walking over to join Allura on the couch. Allura puts the book to the side, but leaves her glasses on, and Shay gives her a hesitant smile.
"So, is it finished?"
"Ah. Almost. I'll let it dry and put the finishing touches on it over the next few days. Just minor touch ups. I'll send you a picture when it's done, if you'd like."
"I'd love that."
"We still have to figure out something as payment... Especially considering you helped me ace this final, probably."
Allura's eyes dance with amusement when she replies: "I have an idea."
"Alright?"
"Why don't you take me out to dinner?", Allura says, meeting Shay's eyes. "Maybe tonight?"
For a second, Shay is speechless, but then a grin spreads across her face. "I'd love to," she says, then confesses: "I've been wanting to ask you out for weeks."
"And I've been waiting for you to ask. Guess I got impatient, sorry."
Shay reaches out and carefully takes Allura's hand in her own. "I don't mind at all," she says, and it's true. She's never been so happy and right now, she thinks, there's not a lot she would mind.
"You have paint on your face," Allura says, unbearably fond as she reaches out to touch her cheek, and Shay closes her eyes and kisses her.