topino | (no subject)

If Nicky hadn't been enjoying it, he would have stopped. He probably should have stopped. His friends have mentioned to him in the past that he can get his sights set on a fixation that he struggles to let go of, even if it means he gets stubborn and acts inappropriately.

He's not there yet, but he suspects he might be getting close.

When he opens the attachments on the email, Nicky has to sit back and consider them, his mouth open (slack-jawed is a much better way to describe it, but that requires him to confess to how affected he is). Are those...? Is that...? He's not met the artist, but he's seen his photo, even videos of him, and there's no doubt who that is.

Nicky doesn't end up sending a reply for two days after that. In his defense, he honestly isn't sure what to do with that (other than use it to jerk off, which then made him feel so guilty that he couldn't reply for at least twelve hours).

In the end, he defaults to what's safe and comfortable -- criticism.

Then again, he's not sure how critical it is when he starts to judge Joe for his use of model, calling him slightly arrogant, but also saying in the same sentence that he should know better than to pick someone who's the absolute high-end specimen of human male bodies.

When Joe doesn't receive a reply for a couple of days, he begins to think he might have pushed too hard. After all, it's very possible he read di Genova's tone wrong, and sent him entirely unasked-for drawings of his own naked body. He feels a bit guilty about that, wondering if he should reach out and apologize for taking it too far. For all that he's enjoyed bickering with the critic, he doesn't actually want to make anyone uncomfortable, here.

In the end he doesn't have to, because on the third day, Di Genova writes back. He can't help but grin wider and wider as he reads the critic's reply, short and coolly dismissive of his choice of subject, while still basically telling him that he is very hot. That's a dichotomy Joe can handle.

He writes back, politely reminding Di Genova that nude models aren't cheap and, as a starving artist, he had to use what he had on hand. He thanks the critic for his kind input playfully, and then pauses.

It feels like the end of the conversation. If he doesn't give Di Genova a reason to write back, Joe fears he won't. And despite it all, he doesn't want this to end. You should come by the gallery some time, he types, carefully. I would be happy to give you a tour of the exhibit, and argue about the artist merit of each piece again.

He hesitates, and then hits send.

Nicky's in the middle of dinner with his book agent when his phone pings with the reply. He excuses himself to go take it, knowing that he wants to see what it is Joe has to say, but he's not expecting to see an invitation to the gallery.

That would mean seeing him in person, right after he's seen all those very accurate-seeming sketches of him in the nude. Nicky feels his cheeks heat up and he's not sure he can blame the wine for that.

He can blame the wine for his burst of courage that has him replying to ask what time he should show up at the exhibit, and then asking if Joe intends to pay for his entry fee. After all, he's an art critic who writes books on the side, it's not like he's made of money.

Those nude drawings keep flashing behind his eyelids. He swears he'll be dreaming about them for weeks. Now he's going to go see Joe in person?

This feels like a terrible mistake, but one that he's excited to make.

Di Genova's next reply comes almost instantly and it gives Joe a little thrill to see it pop up in his emails. He clicks and reads his answer, snorting when the critic doesn't disappoint, basically agreeing though he can't help but be smart about it.

Come on Thursday, Joe writes back, carefully. Entry is free and I'm always around to talk with people.

This could be risky, Joe thinks even as he sends his reply. He doesn't know what Di Genova looks like, so anyone he meets that day could be him. He won't have a way of knowing if the critic even came, should he not wish to tell him.

Perhaps that's part of their game, though. Just like it's a thrill to flirt with a man he's never even seen.

Thursday arrives much sooner than Nicky had been hoping. The truth is that he's been second-guessing his decision to go and see Joe in person ever since he sent that email. Their little rivalry (flirtatious as it's become) feels precarious, in that he doesn't want to ruin it.

There's a chance after tonight, he and Joe might never email again. Maybe they'll fight in a way that doesn't have that flirtatious hint to it. Maybe it will be completely ruined. It's what makes him so fucking nervous.

Nicky still tries to make a good impression, opting for a crisply ironed white button-down and a navy blue blazer on top, the lapels shiny and midnight blue. He's wearing jeans and sneakers to make it more casual, heading into the gallery on Thursday at the same time as an older gentleman.

"After you, sir," he offers, holding the door open for him, trying to stifle his nerves that are threatening to ruin everything.

When Thursday comes, Joe tells himself he's not nervous. He didn't hear back from Di Genova so he's not actually sure he's coming, and the uncertainty is hard to bear. When he thinks about it, it seems to him that meeting the critic and not meeting the critic are both dangerous for different reasons.

Whatever happens is probably going to be disappointing, Joe muses. Di Genova was so sharp and smart and amusing in his e-mails, but Joe isn't sure how it will translate in a face-to-face interaction. Unpleasant? Or on the contrary, boring?

He busies himself with the exhibit to keep his mind occupied, answering questions and greeting people with warm smiles. He dressed up a little, wearing his best pair of trousers and a shirt that is just a little too tight around the arms, so he's getting a lot of warm smiles in return.

At some point, he notices a man trying to catch his attention and smiles to him affably, stepping closer.

"You are the artist, right? Yusuf al-Kaysani?" The man asks, and Joe nods. The man in his fifties and smartly dressed, his eyes kind behind his glasses.

"I am. Can I help you?" Joe answers, politely. A potential patron, perhaps.

"You can," the man says, brightly. "We talked through e-mail, if you remember. You told me to come and see the exhibit," he says, and the look on Joe's face goes blank.

... really? That's Di Genova? Joe tries to tell himself that it would be unfair for the man to be disappointed. It's not his fault he's not what Joe imagined him to be. And after all, Joe knew fully well that it would turn out to be like this, didn't he?

He manages to smile back but before he can continue, the man soldiers on, "well, I mean, I e-mailed your curator, but I'm sure he told you about it. I have a small gallery in Paris, and I would definitely be interested in..." The man continues, but Joe isn't listening. He can't help but feel relieved that this isn't his critic. He shouldn't, he knows, he's setting himself up for more disappointment, but he can't help it all the same.

He manages to focus on the gallery-owner for long enough to agree to discuss terms for a potential exhibit, and then rubs his face when the man saunters away, snorting at his own foolishness. Luckily, there are quite a few people who want his attention, and he ends up in front of his favourite piece soon enough, answering questions passionately.

It's a complete coincidence that the man he'd arrived behind makes a beeline for Joe, leaving Nicky to head for the bar to get a drink, sipping on the tolerably mediocre wine as he leans an elbow against the bar, enjoying the free show of watching him talk to the artist and the range of expressions on Joe's face.

It's fascinating and helps to undo his nerves, because Nicky can gleefully just enjoy the fact that he's not the only one who'd clearly been hoping for tonight to go well.

If nothing else, he's glad to see Joe's made an effort to impress, because that shirt is doing wonders for his arms. Nicky sips the wine to completion, picking up two new glasses so he can stroll, leisurely, towards Joe once he's alone at a piece of art.

Is it unfair that he knows what Joe looks like and the reverse isn't true? It's not going to last very long, because Nicky can't help himself. "You know," he begins casually, extending a glass of wine, "I think that most modern artists are like Narcissus. Only, it's not the reflection in the stream that they love to look at, but their own work."

Joe is catching a break, checking his phone and smoothing down his shirt, when another guy strolls up to him with two glasses of wine.

The first thing Joe notices is that the man is attractive. Not just hot but properly arresting, with deep set eyes of a shade Joe immediately wants to find in his many tubes of paint, a strong nose, a sharp jaw line, and a beautiful mouth that is currently curling in a somewhat mocking grin. The faint accent when he speaks up only adds to his charm.

He's so attractive, in fact, that it takes Joe's brain a second to catch on to what the man is saying. He's reaching for the glass of wine on autopilot, his eyebrows arching at the thinly-veiled accusation. "Does your sentence go on to say 'but I know you're different'?" he ventures, trying to decide whether he should be offended.

Nicky doesn't think he's been spotted yet. There isn't the sass and the sharpness that he's come to expect from Joe, though maybe he only does that in his emails and he's completely different in person. Once the second glass is gone, he sips his red wine calmly, peering at the picture.

"I don't know. I think maybe you're only different in that you're worse," he says, given that Joe has been using himself as his own body model for his work. Even if there are circumstances that require it, it does come across a little...

Well, he'd said it earlier. Narcissus.

"It's a nice painting, admittedly," he'll allow.

Joe follows the man's gaze towards the painting, his eyebrows furrowing. It's one of his favourite pieces, and while it does feature part of his torso as one of the elements, it is not really the focus of the piece. His jaw sets when the man calls the painting "nice", and he turns around to face him, his eyes narrowing.

There is a storm brewing in the way Joe's expressive eyebrows are bunching together, a heated protest building on his tongue. Who does this man think he is, coming to his exhibit and calling him a narcissist? Joe is about to give him a piece of his mind, when he suddenly realizes what this is. Or more accurately, who this is. He blinks, understanding dawning on his face.

"I wasn't sure you'd show up," he says instead of arguing the point, his lips curling up at one corner. "Takes some guts, to come and say this to my face." It's a mildly threatening comment, though Joe has no intention of turning this into something violent.

Nicky remains placid, calm, and keeps his amusement from bubbling over, mainly because he's already enjoying this deeply, but he doesn't want to say it out loud yet. After all, he hasn't seen the hit of recognition on Joe's face until - ah, there it is. That's when Nicky lets his smile come out, maybe curling a bit smugly, clasping his hands behind his back as he tips his chin up to peer at the painting.

"What kind of critic would I be if I didn't stand behind my own opinions?" Nicky replies calmly. He knows what kind he would be. The cowardly kind who hides behind his articles and pretends he doesn't believe it.

Hypocrite, that's the word.

"Are you going to kick me out?" he baits.

"You wouldn't be the first," Joe answers, calmly. He's had his share of critics that were very mean on paper, and then disgustingly obsequious when they met him. Joe prefers Di Genova's cutting remarks. Then he turns back just in time to catch Di Genova smirking at his painting and his mind goes a little too quiet.

What the -and Joe means that- fuck.

He's not going to lie to himself, he'd hoped Di Genova would be at least somewhat attractive on top of being bright and sharp, but Joe wasn't expecting him to be one of the most attractive men he's ever met.

It takes him a few seconds to recover but he does, turning more fully to face Nicky.

"Haven't decided yet," he answers threateningly, though the sunny smile he gives the critic is entirely genuine. He's looking forward to this, actually. "I'll show you the rest of the exhibit," he offers, gesturing pleasantly. But make no mistake Nicky, he will defend each piece tooth and nail.

Edited 2020-12-08 15:19 (UTC)

Nicky raises a brow, because that reaction hadn't been what he'd been expecting. Joe continues to surprise him on many levels, it seems. He sips his wine, trying to subdue his reaction before Joe goes and thinks that Nicky is overly interested in taking a tour with him, so he can criticize everything.

It's not the art he's more interested in, so much as the barbed and sharp retorts, not to mention the amazing view.

Joe might be a narcissist to stare too long, but Nicky by no means has to play by the same rules, which means that if he stares at the paintings of Joe's body, it just makes him an art connoisseur (and maybe a little bit of a creep). "Lead on," he encourages, gesturing with his wine.

Well, Joe did invite him knowing fully well that it would only encourage criticism. He can take it. He is looking forward to a debate, actually.

He grins wider and bows his head politely, guiding Nicky through the exhibit. It's not all paintings of Joe's body, to be fair. There are a lot of landscapes in mixed media, portraits of people Joe found interesting in sharp charcoal, abstract pieces that seem to project a certain mood, a few clay sculptures. Let it not be said that Joe does not dabble in many different art forms.

Some of the pieces are self-portraits though, not necessarily all flattering, done in charcoal and paint. They come to a stop in front of a somewhat racy one, Yusuf's naked body from his parted lips to under his belly button, in shades of black and white.

"Let's hear it, then," he states, sounding playfully resigned to what Nicky is going to say.

Nicky falls a step or two behind Joe, to be polite he'll insist. The truth is that by stepping back, he gets the most magnificent view of Joe's ass, which the paintings hardly capture. He's not sure he's about to let that piece of criticism slip past his lips. After all, that might give away exactly what it is he's feeling.

He stops by a few clay sculptures, and then moves on to the landscapes, but it's the self-portraits he pays the most attention to, and the one they've stopped in front of has actually rendered Nicky somewhat speechless.

"I already told you that it was very narcissistic." He feels like in the absence of his voice, the worst little parts of his brain come out. His eyes flick over the nude body in front of him, then glance to Joe, as he gives a thoughtful harrumph.

It can't possibly be accurate.

"I take it you embellish your subject?"

Joe can't help but be a little nervous as Di Genova looks at the different pieces with his sharp eyes, watching his face. His art means a lot to him, and he's somewhat worried about what the critic will say. There isn't much criticism however, at least not before they get to the self-portrait.

Then Di Genova gets a pinched look on his face, and accuses him of embellishing his subject. Joe shakes his head, considering the piece thoughtfully. "The point of this isn't beauty. I tried to convey feelings, ideas. I know you think this is narcissistic, but it doesn't matter that it's me. It could be someone else, the intent would be the same."

He looks over to Nicky and gives him a grin. "But if that's your way of trying to get me to take my shirt off so you can see for yourself, I think I'm going to need at least one more glass of wine to get there," he taunts, playfully.

It's not Nicky's fault that his biology makes him go red as easily as he does, but when Joe offers to take his shirt off with one more glass of wine, his cheeks and the tips of his ears turn that furious shade, and he glares at the man.

"I just don't think any human can look like that," is his derisive reply, very pointedly not offering to get him another drink.

If Joe intends to strip, Nicky is not going to ply him with alcohol to get him to do it. He wants to earn it himself, however that happens. "What feelings are those muscles supposed to be telling us?" Nicky asks aloud, noticing that they're beginning to draw a bit of an audience, which means his words get a touch sharper, as if he's back to performing for a crowd.

It's not Nicky's fault but Joe loves to see it, and he will watch the way his ears and cheeks go pink with great pleasure. Di Genova is pretty difficult to read overall, so this little tell that Joe's playful seduction is working matters a lot.

Of course, because Di Genova is really fucking good at mixed signals, it's followed by more disparaging comments about Joe himself, and his art. "You haven't been looking at the right humans, then," Joe points out, his tone still amused.

He narrows his eyes a little when Nicky challenges his art, noticing as well, that they are drawing some attention. Joe doesn't mind an audience for this, though. In fact, it will help him get appropriately passionate.

He puts his hands on his hips and turns to face Nicky, launching in a heated speech about trying to reflect the duality of mankind, good and evil, softness and harshness, light and shadow. It's slightly pretentious but he makes some good points, and he's obviously honest about his ideas, his eyes dark and assertive, his voice full of emotions.

Nicky is starting to be annoyed at the appraising looks people are giving Joe as he grows more passionate about his art with every passing moment. Of course Nicky agrees with some of his points, but the murmuring nearby and the way people are looking at him makes Nicky feel possessive and selfish.

He's the one who was invited here, he's the one critiquing the art. It's enough to add an edge to him, a sharpness that he hadn't been in possession of before.

"No," he agrees, when Joe is finally done. "I see none of my ex's have given me either inspiration or such heated defense," he replies, crossing his arms over his chest. "If you feel all that in there," he says, tapping on Joe's chest with two fingers. "Then why is it only on this wall here?" he challenges.

"You have such big feelings, but such a small wall."

It's not meant to be an insult, though it may come across as one.

Joe is too deep into his own speech to notice that he's definitely getting a lot of interested looks, his eyes staying on the way Nicky's face is growing more and more pinched.

His eyebrows arch a little when Nicky mentions his exes, because he didn't mean to target them specifically; he meant people Nicky has met in general. But that is an interesting leap for the critic to make. And Joe is very interested.

"Ah," he answers, serious and playful at the same time. He puts his hand over Nicky's, very lightly, to keep it on his chest. He's not insulted; this just shows that Nicky doesn't know him very well. "But my feelings aren't confined to that wall. They overflow. To other art pieces, to every day." He pats Nicky's hand, gently. "To this very moment."

("That's some romantic shit," a girl in the group that is forming around them says, just loud enough for them to hear.)

Joe's missed his meaning, but Nicky is feeling just sharp and vindictive enough to be willing to clarify his point. He raises a brow, and takes Joe's hand off his own, so he can point to the four corners of this wall.

"No. Not your feelings being confined to this wall. You have a very small wall in a very small gallery," he says, willing to be pedantic to get his point across.

If Joe is so passionate about art (and he has the talent), then why is it that this gallery is all that he's able to display his feelings on? Also, his brain is asking if Joe's heart had been beating faster. Had it been? Did he just not notice?

Di Genova's words are harsh and so is his voice, and yet Joe can't help but feel mostly charmed by what he's saying. "I do, unfortunately," he answers, with good humour. "You know how the art world is. It's difficult to make it." He arches an eyebrow, playful. "Especially with all those harsh critics out here."

Joe's heart has been beating very fast since he understood who Nicky was so yes, he does understand the feeling.

He lets go of Nicky's hand easily, though he would have liked the contact to continue. "But I'm flattered you think I deserve more," he adds. That's not exactly what Nicky said, but Joe will stick to that interpretation.

"Oh, I know."

It's why Nicky, as art critic, has a second job to help with his money because making art doesn't pay grandly, but reviewing art isn't much better. It's why he's taken up a pen name in order to publish romance novels on the side, which is a dependable source of income. He will never admit to it out loud, but looking at Joe, he thinks he has the titular protagonist of his next novel picked out.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers, keen to look casual because Joe has him very flustered and he doesn't like that. "Maybe if you branched out, like I suggested, you'd get more space next time."

Joe would be very, very flattered to be turned into a romance novel hero. He might even have some input, should Nicky ever decide to tell him.

He hums, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "I mean, I have painted other people before." It had been both fun and painstaking, trying to capture the essence of other people on canvas. "But as we've discussed, models aren't cheap, and I am but a poor starving artist."

He glances over to Nicky, his eyebrows arching playfully. "Unless you want to volunteer, of course." It's mostly a tease, he doesn't think Di Genova will actually agree, but it's a nice thought. It would be a challenge, to capture this man's classic beauty, his quiet ferocity. Provided Joe can concentrate while staring at him, obviously.

Nicky hadn't been talking about himself, exactly, but there's a little stubborn voice inside his brain that refuses to back down from a challenge. Now that Joe has put it out there, for him to say no would look like he's giving up or refusing.

That's not going to happen.

Joe probably thinks that he's calling his bluff, offering like that, but it's not like Nicky's hours are set aside for tasks at this point. "Sure," he says, not even realizing until he says it that he's willingly giving in like this. Not giving in, he reminds himself. Playing the game, refusing to lose. "Maybe you won't pay me, but you could cook," he says, hinting around the edges of calling it a date with the gorgeous artist who just offered to draw him.