fotd + chocolate (or 'holy crap, I wrote something?')
fotd : "swain" + chocolate 29. relief + cookie crumbs (of the first scene from this)
story: second chances ; college era . wordcount: 439. rating: pg
"Are you trying to impress me by talking about Leonardo?" Nathan learned to flirt in art history?
notes: I promised gandolforf some more Mike & Nathan a lonnng while ago. There should be more where this came from, I'm just out of the habit of working on writing that is not my stupid novel :P New prose feels all clunky to me right now.
Mike lifted his arm to blow on the blue-inked lines on his wrist. The mouth of a carnivorous plant opened up towards his palm and the sketchy pen-lines of the leaves curled down around his arm like ivy.
"That's really good," he said.
Nathan held out the pen. "Here," he said, offering his forearm, "you draw something."
Mike took a nervous sip of his drink and tried not to make a face. "I...don't really draw."
Shaking his head, Nathan grabbed Mike's wrist and placed the pen in his hand. "Try."
"I mean..." Mike looked down at the ball-point. "I don't draw at all."
"What do you do, then?"
He reached out to touch Nathan's arm then, drew back again. "Write, I guess. Sometimes."
"So write something."
Mike tried to laugh through the nerves. "Okay." A couple of girls were trying to squeeze down the steps beside them and Mike took the opportunity to scoot closer. He put down his drink and tentatively set a hand on Nathan's arm.
"You're left-handed," Nathan said suddenly.
"Yeah?"
"You know about Leonardo's notebooks?"
"What?"
"He wrote backwards," Nathan said. "Like mirror-writing."
Mike squinted down at Nathan's arm. The pen was doing a poor job of leaving legible markings and the dim porch lights were not helping. "So?"
"People used to say it was like a code," Nathan said, "to make it harder to read. But there's also a theory that it was just because he was left-handed. And didn't want to smudge the ink."
Trying not to smile, Mike looked up. "Are you trying to impress me by talking about Leonardo?"
"Maybe. Is it working?"
Mike capped the pen and handed it back to Nathan. "I always liked Michelangelo better."
"Michelangelo is better," Nathan said. "Leonardo was, you know, actually out there screwing boys, but Michelangelo had all this inner turmoil about wanting to screw guys but wanting to please God at the same time. So he led this celibate, tormented life and his art has all this misplaced sexual energy. It's kind of amazing."
Mike tried to keep a straight face. "I was talking about the Ninja Turtle."
Nathan laughed. "No you weren't."
Unsure what to say now, Mike dropped his chin to look at a fleck of something white on his jeans. From the corner of his eye, he saw Nathan lifting his arm.
"What did you write?"
Mike scrubbed his thumbnail over the spot on his pants. "My phone number."
Silence from Nathan for a second, and Mike held his breath, the thrum of the party seeming suddenly louder.
"Cool," Nathan said and-relieved-Mike could tell he was smiling even before he looked up.
Mike's favorite ninja turtle is actually Donatello. To the surprise of no one.
story: second chances ; college era . wordcount: 439. rating: pg
"Are you trying to impress me by talking about Leonardo?" Nathan learned to flirt in art history?
notes: I promised gandolforf some more Mike & Nathan a lonnng while ago. There should be more where this came from, I'm just out of the habit of working on writing that is not my stupid novel :P New prose feels all clunky to me right now.
Mike lifted his arm to blow on the blue-inked lines on his wrist. The mouth of a carnivorous plant opened up towards his palm and the sketchy pen-lines of the leaves curled down around his arm like ivy.
"That's really good," he said.
Nathan held out the pen. "Here," he said, offering his forearm, "you draw something."
Mike took a nervous sip of his drink and tried not to make a face. "I...don't really draw."
Shaking his head, Nathan grabbed Mike's wrist and placed the pen in his hand. "Try."
"I mean..." Mike looked down at the ball-point. "I don't draw at all."
"What do you do, then?"
He reached out to touch Nathan's arm then, drew back again. "Write, I guess. Sometimes."
"So write something."
Mike tried to laugh through the nerves. "Okay." A couple of girls were trying to squeeze down the steps beside them and Mike took the opportunity to scoot closer. He put down his drink and tentatively set a hand on Nathan's arm.
"You're left-handed," Nathan said suddenly.
"Yeah?"
"You know about Leonardo's notebooks?"
"What?"
"He wrote backwards," Nathan said. "Like mirror-writing."
Mike squinted down at Nathan's arm. The pen was doing a poor job of leaving legible markings and the dim porch lights were not helping. "So?"
"People used to say it was like a code," Nathan said, "to make it harder to read. But there's also a theory that it was just because he was left-handed. And didn't want to smudge the ink."
Trying not to smile, Mike looked up. "Are you trying to impress me by talking about Leonardo?"
"Maybe. Is it working?"
Mike capped the pen and handed it back to Nathan. "I always liked Michelangelo better."
"Michelangelo is better," Nathan said. "Leonardo was, you know, actually out there screwing boys, but Michelangelo had all this inner turmoil about wanting to screw guys but wanting to please God at the same time. So he led this celibate, tormented life and his art has all this misplaced sexual energy. It's kind of amazing."
Mike tried to keep a straight face. "I was talking about the Ninja Turtle."
Nathan laughed. "No you weren't."
Unsure what to say now, Mike dropped his chin to look at a fleck of something white on his jeans. From the corner of his eye, he saw Nathan lifting his arm.
"What did you write?"
Mike scrubbed his thumbnail over the spot on his pants. "My phone number."
Silence from Nathan for a second, and Mike held his breath, the thrum of the party seeming suddenly louder.
"Cool," Nathan said and-relieved-Mike could tell he was smiling even before he looked up.
Mike's favorite ninja turtle is actually Donatello. To the surprise of no one.