Work Text:
“Do you know that Graf likes you?”
Juan blinked. “What?”
Juan had been halfway through cleaning his brushes when Foolish leaned against the doorway of his art shop on his way to leave, grinning deviously.
Then he left just like that. With no explanation, no elaboration, none of that. The worst part was that Foolish probably only said to annoy him after Juan told him his client tonight was Graf.
“Foolish, what the fuck?!” His scream shook the entire cozy shop.
The silence afterward felt louder than the rain beginning to patter against the windows. Juan stood frozen with a rag in one hand, paint staining the heel of his palm purple.
Graf… liked him?
No, impossible. What’s there to like about him anyway?
Maybe Foolish meant it casually, as in Graf ‘liking’ him as a good friend. Maybe-
Suddenly every interaction from the past few months crawled back into Juan’s head like a curse.
Graf looking after him after he got harrassed by some officers.
Graf asking and reminding him if he was going to attend his trivia night event in his tavern.
Graf sneaking some glances at him while he was singing during karaoke at the North.
“…Mierda.”
The bell above the front door jingled, causing Juan to nearly drop a paint bottle he had been holding onto.
Graf stepped inside carrying a black umbrella dripping rainwater onto the floorboards. His brown hair was damp around the edges, cheeks pink from the cold evening air. The storm outside had darkened the entire street already.
“Sorry,” Graf said easily, folding the umbrella shut. “The weather got worse than I expected.”
Juan stared for half a second too long.
Graf tilted his head. “Juan?”
“Y-yeah, it’s okay. Come in, come in.”
Great. He sounded nervous when he invited Graf in.
Graf didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he did. That possibility somehow made it worse.
The studio smelled like turpentine and old wood, it was warm inside despite the current weather. Juan tried focusing on practical things instead. He set up the easel, adjusting the lamp and finding dry, clean brushes, but now every glance from Graf felt suspicious. Scratch that, every glance from him felt so intentional now.
Graf sat on the couch prepared for live portrait sessions, one arm draped over the back cushion casually.
“You got new glasses,” he said after a moment.
Juan nearly smeared paint across the canvas. “Hm?”
“Your glasses.” Graf gestured vaguely at his eyes. “It suits you.”
Heat climbed straight into Juan’s face. “Oh. Uh. Gracias.”
Why did that sound flirty just now? Had Graf always been like this?
Juan became painfully aware of everything after that. The way Graf’s eyes lingered when Juan mixed colors. The way he raised his brows whenever Juan muttered to himself in Spanish. The way he kept trying to start small conversations just to keep Juan talking.
“You always focus this hard?”
Juan looked up from the canvas. “What?”
“When you paint people.” Graf rested his chin against his hand. “You stare intensely a lot.”
Juan choked on air.
“No shit man, I need a reference for a live portrait?”
“Hahah, I’m just messing with you.”
That stupid laugh again.
Juan’s brush slipped and left an ugly streak across the background.
“Fuck.”
Graf laughed softly, in a fond way.
That somehow made Juan even more tense.
The rain intensified as the evening dragged on, tapping harder against the shop windows. Thunder rumbled somewhere distant.
Juan tried to focus on proportions instead of the fact that Graf apparently had a big, fat crush on him. Which was proven difficult when Graf kept directly staring at him instead of looking to the side.
At some point, Juan approached to adjust the lighting angle near the couch. He leaned down slightly and Graf reached out of a sudden.
Juan flinched.
“There’s paint,” Graf murmured.
His thumb brushed gently against Juan’s cheek.
The motion was brief, a nothing burger one might say. Still, Juan’s entire body locked up.
Graf was trying to wipe away a drying streak of dark grey paint near his jawline, calm and unaware of the absolute disaster happening internally inside Juan’s head.
“Oh,” Juan said stupidly. “Thanks.”
Graf looked at the smear now on his own thumb. “Missed some.”
Juan took an immediate step back. “I can do it myself.”
“…Okay.”
Why was he red?
Why was Juan redder?
Why were the two of them so red?
The room became awkward after that, it went silent afterwards.
Eventually Graf stopped talking altogether.
Juan appreciated the silence at first because it allowed him to breathe again, but after several minutes he realized something felt off.
He glanced over.
Graf had fallen asleep. In between those few minutes Juan was doing some detailing on the canvas, the man actually dozed off. He curled against the couch corner with one arm folded beneath his head, breathing slow and even.
Juan stared.
“Oh damn.”
Exhaustion showed clearly now that Graf wasn’t forcing himself awake. There were faint shadows under his eyes Juan hadn’t noticed earlier.
The storm outside softened into steady rain.
Juan exhaled slowly and turned back toward the canvas.
Somehow, painting became easier after that.
Maybe because sleeping Graf wasn’t looking at him in ways that made his chest tighten strangely.
Or maybe because the sleeping version of him looked softer and so vulnerable.
Juan captured that moment without meaning to. From the slight droop of Graf’s posture to his peaceful expression and the warmth.
By the time Juan finally stepped back from the easel, the portrait was nearly complete.
And honestly? It might’ve been one of the best things he’d ever painted actually.
Thunder cracked violently outside, making Graf to suddenly jolt awake.
“What on Earth-“
Another rumble shook the windows.
Juan looked toward the glass. “Oh God, the storm is even getting worse.”
Rain now slammed against the building hard enough to blur the entire street outside.
Graf rubbed at his eyes before standing. “That sounded really close.”
They both moved toward the window at the same time.
The space beside it was narrow.
Very narrow.
Graf leaned closer to see through the rain-streaked glass while Juan tried not to press shoulder-first into him. Which was impossible because Graf was taller, broader and somehow took up the entire window area effortlessly.
“Can’t see anything,” Graf murmured.
Juan attempted to look past him. “Move a little, man.”
“No, you move a little.”
“Stop taking the entire space, I wanna look too.” Juan frowned. “Jeez.”
Graf snickered and shifted only enough for their arms to brush instead. That somehow made things worse.
Outside, rain lashed against the shopfronts while thunder rattled the windows overhead.
Still, neither of them moved away from the window.
As long as they stayed inside, the storm felt distant and safe.
Then Graf glanced behind him.
“Oh wow.”
Juan followed his gaze.
Oh fuck, right, the portrait. He’d forgotten it was still sitting openly on the easel.
Graf walked over before Juan could stop him.
“Wait-“
Too late. Graf stared at the painting silently.
Juan’s stomach dropped.
Because the portrait looked intimate.
Totally not in an obvious way. Totally not painted in a way Juan had painted someone he cared about.
Juan immediately panicked. “I can redo it. Or refund. I know that’s not what you wanted-“
“Juan.”
Graf looked up.
His expression had gone strangely gentle.
“I like it, this is amazing.”
“No, but-“
“I really like it.”
Juan stopped talking.
Graf stepped closer to the canvas again. “You made me feel…” He paused, smiling faintly. “Loved.”
Juan’s brain completely shut down.
“I’m still going to pay full amount,” Graf continued casually, mercifully pretending he didn’t just say something catastrophic. “Actually, I should tip you too for this incredible piece of art.”
“No need to tip me!” Juan deflected immediately, shaking his head violently. Incredible piece of art of himself sleeping on the couch? What a damn narcissist, he thought to himself.
“Too late.” Before Juan could register, there were blocks of diamonds being shoved into him.
Graf suddenly turned away and sneezed hard into his sleeve.
Juan frowned instantly. “You got sick?”
“No. Just cold.”
Another sneeze betrayed him immediately.
The rain outside showed no signs of stopping.
Juan looked between Graf and the storm.
“…I don’t think you should leave now.”
Graf blinked. “Hm?”
“Your cold is going to get worse.”
“I’ll survive.”
“But… what if those monsters are outside?”
Graf smiled slightly. “You care that much for me?”
Juan opened his mouth but nothing came out.
Because duh! Obviously yes, he cared about his well-being. His client’s well-being, precisely.
And that realization hit him all at once, hard enough to make his chest feel tight. Denial is a river in Egypt, he recalled hearing that sentence somewhere.
Graf watched him quietly for a second too long before looking away again, sparing him from answering.
Thunder rolled once more.
Juan groaned internally. This was bad, very bad.
Because now he was going to be stuck with Graf until the rain stopped or until he atleast got better.
And worse, he wasn’t sure if his feelings were one-sided anymore.
Graf sneezed again beside him while still admiring the portrait like it was something precious, Juan covered his face with one hand and cursed silently.
This was only going to escalate from here.