Fic: The Worst Day
Title: The Worst Day
Characters: Sam, Andi, Devil
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Pfft. Like I own anything - other than this fic, that is. And that won't get me much.
A/N: Thanks to onyourmark for helping me finally find a painting.
Summary: Sam hates art. Now he knows why.
This was turning out to be the worst day ever. God, he was so bored.
Unfortunately, for once the companion he was with wasn't making the situation any better. While Sam usually loved hanging out with his girlfriend, he suspected this was quite possibly the only time in his life when he'd prefer the Devil instead. At the very least, being with the Devil meant he wouldn't be here - because no matter how hard he tried, he simply couldn't fathom how Andi could find the Seattle Art Museum as anything other than the most mind-numbingly dull place on the planet.
Sometimes it really sucked being such a good boyfriend. He should really consider being more selfish.
Andi would kill him if she knew, however, since she was inexplicably enjoying herself. Sam had spent the better part of the morning and afternoon trying to figure out how she'd managed to achieve that, as he desperately wanted to partake in the fun too. But the last six hours had found him forced to smile and nod attentively anyways while his girlfriend happily waxed on and on and on about "form" this or "color" that, as if he either understood or cared about a single word she said.
Finally, he'd had enough. "Okay, we have now officially seen both Impressionist exhibits, that Eli Handful and Oscar Toolong - "
"Eli Hansen and Oscar Tuazon," Andi corrected.
"Yeah, that." Sam waved a dismissive hand airly. "That two brothers thing. My point is, we’ve seen the third floor. We've also seen the fourth floor, the second floor, and now we're on the first floor. We've even listened to a lecture. Please tell me we've fulfilled the requirements for your art class already."
Andi frowned. "You're not enjoying yourself?"
Uh, oh. If Sam wasn't careful, some serious trouble was lying ahead in his near future. He flashed his best grin. "Of course I am, honey! I'm enjoying myself plenty. I'm with you, right? Any time with you is an adventure in fun." He leaned forward in an attempt to placate her with a kiss.
Andi swatted him away. She looked ticked. "You're lying."
Crap. Time for damage control. He tried again. "No, I'm not! Honest, Andi. It's just, uh, that we've been here awhile, and I'm, uh, hungry."
Unfortunately, his girlfriend knew him. Andi crossed her arms in that you're-in-such-trouble way only she could, and Sam knew he was in for it. "I can't believe you! We ate lunch three hours ago, and I just saw you sneak two candy bars when you thought I wasn't looking." Her eyes narrowed. "Sam! Are you telling me that all this time, you've only been acting interested just to humor me? I thought you really liked this place!"
Aw, man. He was right. The look she was giving him promised he was going to end up paying dearly for his lack of enthusiasm. "Alright, alright!" he admitted, using any shot he might have to get out of trouble at this point - including the truth. "This place is pure torture! I'm bored! I hate it! There, I said it. Can we go now?" Pulling her close and playing with an idle strand of her hair, he put on his best puppy dog face. "Please, pookie?"
Andi's eyes sparkled, and she leaned in close as if about to kiss him. "Mmm. Leaving does sound like a good idea." Instead of kissing him, however, she roughly pushed him away, and suddenly Sam knew his punishment was coming sooner rather than later. "But I'm thinking no. There's a two hour film on one of the Impressionists at 7:30 tonight. I think it'd be fun to stick around and see it."
Sam groaned. Forget demons and escaped souls. Another five more hours in this place will be what ends up killing him. This might not be an official Hell-on-Earth, but it sure as heck felt like it. Sulking, he whined, "Art is so boring. I still don't understand why you wanted to take this stupid class in the first place."
"I believe it's called a well-rounded education," Andi answered dryly. She sighed and rolled her eyes. "I know what you're thinking, Sam Oliver, and no, an education won't kill you. You should try it sometime - and by that, I mean when I'm not forcing you into it." She pulled her wallet out of her purse and told him, "Wait here. I'll go get the tickets."
"Fine," Sam muttered grumpily. He walked over to a nearby bench and started to sit down. But before he could sit, something caught his attention.
It was a painting. Or a copy of one, at any rate. There was a display in a small room off to the other side of the lobby he was in, exhibiting techniques of how painters copied works of art so that the pieces could be seen in many museums, instead of just one. The painting that had caught his eye could be seen through the opening.
Curious, Sam walked across the lobby and entered the room. He walked up to the painting for a better look. The title on the plaque identified it as Van Eyck, Jan: The Crucifixion and The Last Judgment.
Even without Andi standing next to him pointing everything out, Sam could recognize the brilliance of the artist who had created this masterpiece. It was in two pieces, but he was mesmerized by the panel on the right.
It was beautiful, even if the subject wasn't. Sam thought the top of the piece wasn't so bad. It showed Christ, judging souls and whether they were good enough for heaven - or damned enough for hell. And that was the part Sam couldn't take his eyes off: the bottom of the painting that depicted Hell. It illustrated the terrible sufferings of those souls as they endured their horrific fate.
His fate.
At least, the part he spent his days trying not to think about - and more importantly, working to put off for as long as possible.
"I always get cheated in these pieces," a familiar voice moodily intoned. "A skeleton? That's completely unfair. Look at Michael with his sword. I'm definitely more handsome than he is."
Sam didn't bother to look over at the demon suddenly standing beside him. Instead, he continued to study the figures in the painting. He found he couldn't turn away. Their anguish in their hellish torment came across so clearly. Fighting his fears, he asked, "Is it really like that?"
The Devil chuckled. "Oh, no. Of course not."
Sam finally tore his eyes away and looked down, a small sigh of relief overtaking him.
He felt the Devil put his arm around him. Pulling Sam close, the demon turned his head so that he was speaking directly into Sam's ear. With an ominous voice, he softly promised, "It's much, much worse."
Sam tried hard not to react, but that didn't stop the threat of tears forming behind his eyes. Not for the first time, he wondered what crime he had committed in order for God to have allowed him to be damned to this situation.
The Devil raised his right hand and took hold of Sam's face. Sam struggled to continue to avoid looking at him, but the Devil forced him to look into his eyes. In a serious tone, he said, "I treat you well, Sam. Remember that." Then he smiled warmly and used a finger to playfully bonk Sam on the nose.
Memories of times when the Devil had manipulated him to try to commit murder, put his friends in mortal danger, or punished him through pain and fear of death flooded Sam's mind. Moving away, he didn't need to look to know the Devil had already disappeared. Quietly, he whispered to himself as his gaze returned to the tortured souls in the painting, "And what happens when you decide to stop treating me that way?"
Characters: Sam, Andi, Devil
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Pfft. Like I own anything - other than this fic, that is. And that won't get me much.
A/N: Thanks to onyourmark for helping me finally find a painting.
Summary: Sam hates art. Now he knows why.
This was turning out to be the worst day ever. God, he was so bored.
Unfortunately, for once the companion he was with wasn't making the situation any better. While Sam usually loved hanging out with his girlfriend, he suspected this was quite possibly the only time in his life when he'd prefer the Devil instead. At the very least, being with the Devil meant he wouldn't be here - because no matter how hard he tried, he simply couldn't fathom how Andi could find the Seattle Art Museum as anything other than the most mind-numbingly dull place on the planet.
Sometimes it really sucked being such a good boyfriend. He should really consider being more selfish.
Andi would kill him if she knew, however, since she was inexplicably enjoying herself. Sam had spent the better part of the morning and afternoon trying to figure out how she'd managed to achieve that, as he desperately wanted to partake in the fun too. But the last six hours had found him forced to smile and nod attentively anyways while his girlfriend happily waxed on and on and on about "form" this or "color" that, as if he either understood or cared about a single word she said.
Finally, he'd had enough. "Okay, we have now officially seen both Impressionist exhibits, that Eli Handful and Oscar Toolong - "
"Eli Hansen and Oscar Tuazon," Andi corrected.
"Yeah, that." Sam waved a dismissive hand airly. "That two brothers thing. My point is, we’ve seen the third floor. We've also seen the fourth floor, the second floor, and now we're on the first floor. We've even listened to a lecture. Please tell me we've fulfilled the requirements for your art class already."
Andi frowned. "You're not enjoying yourself?"
Uh, oh. If Sam wasn't careful, some serious trouble was lying ahead in his near future. He flashed his best grin. "Of course I am, honey! I'm enjoying myself plenty. I'm with you, right? Any time with you is an adventure in fun." He leaned forward in an attempt to placate her with a kiss.
Andi swatted him away. She looked ticked. "You're lying."
Crap. Time for damage control. He tried again. "No, I'm not! Honest, Andi. It's just, uh, that we've been here awhile, and I'm, uh, hungry."
Unfortunately, his girlfriend knew him. Andi crossed her arms in that you're-in-such-trouble way only she could, and Sam knew he was in for it. "I can't believe you! We ate lunch three hours ago, and I just saw you sneak two candy bars when you thought I wasn't looking." Her eyes narrowed. "Sam! Are you telling me that all this time, you've only been acting interested just to humor me? I thought you really liked this place!"
Aw, man. He was right. The look she was giving him promised he was going to end up paying dearly for his lack of enthusiasm. "Alright, alright!" he admitted, using any shot he might have to get out of trouble at this point - including the truth. "This place is pure torture! I'm bored! I hate it! There, I said it. Can we go now?" Pulling her close and playing with an idle strand of her hair, he put on his best puppy dog face. "Please, pookie?"
Andi's eyes sparkled, and she leaned in close as if about to kiss him. "Mmm. Leaving does sound like a good idea." Instead of kissing him, however, she roughly pushed him away, and suddenly Sam knew his punishment was coming sooner rather than later. "But I'm thinking no. There's a two hour film on one of the Impressionists at 7:30 tonight. I think it'd be fun to stick around and see it."
Sam groaned. Forget demons and escaped souls. Another five more hours in this place will be what ends up killing him. This might not be an official Hell-on-Earth, but it sure as heck felt like it. Sulking, he whined, "Art is so boring. I still don't understand why you wanted to take this stupid class in the first place."
"I believe it's called a well-rounded education," Andi answered dryly. She sighed and rolled her eyes. "I know what you're thinking, Sam Oliver, and no, an education won't kill you. You should try it sometime - and by that, I mean when I'm not forcing you into it." She pulled her wallet out of her purse and told him, "Wait here. I'll go get the tickets."
"Fine," Sam muttered grumpily. He walked over to a nearby bench and started to sit down. But before he could sit, something caught his attention.
It was a painting. Or a copy of one, at any rate. There was a display in a small room off to the other side of the lobby he was in, exhibiting techniques of how painters copied works of art so that the pieces could be seen in many museums, instead of just one. The painting that had caught his eye could be seen through the opening.
Curious, Sam walked across the lobby and entered the room. He walked up to the painting for a better look. The title on the plaque identified it as Van Eyck, Jan: The Crucifixion and The Last Judgment.
Even without Andi standing next to him pointing everything out, Sam could recognize the brilliance of the artist who had created this masterpiece. It was in two pieces, but he was mesmerized by the panel on the right.
It was beautiful, even if the subject wasn't. Sam thought the top of the piece wasn't so bad. It showed Christ, judging souls and whether they were good enough for heaven - or damned enough for hell. And that was the part Sam couldn't take his eyes off: the bottom of the painting that depicted Hell. It illustrated the terrible sufferings of those souls as they endured their horrific fate.
His fate.
At least, the part he spent his days trying not to think about - and more importantly, working to put off for as long as possible.
"I always get cheated in these pieces," a familiar voice moodily intoned. "A skeleton? That's completely unfair. Look at Michael with his sword. I'm definitely more handsome than he is."
Sam didn't bother to look over at the demon suddenly standing beside him. Instead, he continued to study the figures in the painting. He found he couldn't turn away. Their anguish in their hellish torment came across so clearly. Fighting his fears, he asked, "Is it really like that?"
The Devil chuckled. "Oh, no. Of course not."
Sam finally tore his eyes away and looked down, a small sigh of relief overtaking him.
He felt the Devil put his arm around him. Pulling Sam close, the demon turned his head so that he was speaking directly into Sam's ear. With an ominous voice, he softly promised, "It's much, much worse."
Sam tried hard not to react, but that didn't stop the threat of tears forming behind his eyes. Not for the first time, he wondered what crime he had committed in order for God to have allowed him to be damned to this situation.
The Devil raised his right hand and took hold of Sam's face. Sam struggled to continue to avoid looking at him, but the Devil forced him to look into his eyes. In a serious tone, he said, "I treat you well, Sam. Remember that." Then he smiled warmly and used a finger to playfully bonk Sam on the nose.
Memories of times when the Devil had manipulated him to try to commit murder, put his friends in mortal danger, or punished him through pain and fear of death flooded Sam's mind. Moving away, he didn't need to look to know the Devil had already disappeared. Quietly, he whispered to himself as his gaze returned to the tortured souls in the painting, "And what happens when you decide to stop treating me that way?"