topino | (no subject)

"I've only just met you, Nicolo," Joe corrects but he sounds fond, and pleased by the offer. "But thank you. I'm sure people value your opinion and I'll be grateful for any kind review you will give me," he's teasing, a little, but he also means it.

"Flirting?" Joe demurs, although he's clearly grinning. "I was talking about our dinner!"

The answer is no, he didn't flirt that much in their emails. But back then, he didn't know what Nicky looked like. Now he does.

"I can tone it down, if it bothers you," he adds after a second, still smiling but sounding more serious. Nicky has been taking it pretty well so far, but Joe doesn't want to make him uncomfortable.

"Maybe," Nicky admits, aware that they've only just met, but in his opinion, that shouldn't change too much. "And maybe I've decided that you're worth elevating beyond what I've seen from any other artists I've met this year."

Oh, he's not flirting, is he? Nicky smirks a little and he stretches out. "Well, if you're not flirting, then I shouldn't be taking up all this time of yours when you could be working. I would hate for this to be unproductive, especially when you should be preparing for Saturday. My expectations are soaring now, you know."

"Now, I wish you'd said that in your original review," Joe says, a little wry. "Then again, I wouldn't have written you an angry ten-page email if you had, and we might not have met."

Nicky playing into it makes Joe laugh, warm and amused. He's also noting the fact that Nicky isn't actually telling him to stop flirting, though. "You're quite right. I'm sure it'll take me many preparatory sketches to get your profile right."

He finishes his coffee too, his voice getting a little softer. "But yes. I'll see you on Saturday, right? I'll text you the address." He pauses, and then adds, because it's true, "I'm looking forward to it."

"I did say that."

Maybe not bluntly. Then again, he didn't write that kind of review for anyone else this year. It had been twice as long as anything else he'd written and much more passionate, plus he'd given actual compliments scattered through the criticism. Most artists don't get that from him. They only get the scathing review and little else.

"I am too," Nicky admits, surprised that he is. "Looking forward to it. I'm not sure what you've done to me to make that true, but...I am."

"And many other things." Joe won't deny it, there were quite a few backhanded compliments in Nicky's original review. Just a lot of criticism, too.

He grins, warmed to hear Nicky admit as much. "I haven't done anything to you," he answers, playfully. Yet, goes unspoken. "It's just the promise of good food and even better art."

Nicky wonders if that's a promise that something will happen, but he has to wait several days before he finds out just what Joe will be able to deliver to him. His heart beats quicker at the thought of it, and he has to calm himself down.

It's just a dinner. It's just a sketching. That's all.

"Text me your address and I'll get some wine and see you on Saturday. You have work to do, and so do I, if I'm going to spend most of Saturday at yours," he says, not chiding, but speaking the truth. "We should do the work now."

Something might happen. Joe would like it, but he's not going to push if Nicky seems uncomfortable. This is going very fast already, and he doesn't want to come on too strong and scare Nicky away.

"Ah, Nicky, you are the voice of reason," Joe answers, grinning. "Unwelcome, but correct nonetheless. I will see you on Saturday."

**

Saturday comes quickly enough.

In the mean time, Joe texts Nicky several times, his address first and then little things he thinks he would enjoy, and a few sketches. None of his own face, however, he feels like he's not ready for that yet.

When the doorbell rings, Joe has a nice dish simmering in his best cooker, the table is set, and he's set out the living room for the sketches. A blanket on the couch so Nicky doesn't get cold, charcoal, pencils and paint, and many thick pages of drawing paper for Joe to use.

Nicky's spent most of the afternoon fretting about his clothes and the wine he'd purchased. He'd gone out in the morning to pick something up, thinking that it's something they could casually sip on, but his nerves are beginning to get the better of him with every passing moment.

He'd opted for a pair of snug jeans, boots, and a sleek black button-down with a jacket on top, heading to Joe's place after pacing his hall a little. It smells incredible in there, though Nicky isn't sure what he's making.

He's just very, very aware that this is beginning to look very first date adjacent, and he's more than okay with that, so long as he doesn't fuck it up.

Joe has fully accepted that this is a first date. He wants it to be. He knows this has the potential to be great if they manage to find a way to make it, and he's both excited and nervous to try.

True to his words, he's not wearing anything fancy, just clothes he would usually paint in. He's made sure to pick a good pair of jogging pants though, soft but tight enough to be flattering, and an old T-shirt that shows off his arms nicely. The finished look is very casual, but Joe thinks he looks good.

He opens the door and gives Nicky a sunny smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners in obvious delight. "Hey," he greets, warmly. He's not sure if he should shake Nicky's hand, hug him or kiss his cheek, so he opts to merely step back, welcoming him in. "Come on in."

He might not have dressed up, but he looks very good. Nicky had been wondering if he'd been deceiving himself at the gallery, thinking Joe is the most handsome thing he's ever laid eyes on. Here, like this, he knows he hadn't been mistaken.

He truly is the most incredible thing in the world.

Nicky breathes out slowly as he steps inside, presenting the bottle of red out to him. "It smells incredible in here, what are you making for me?" he asks, choosing to focus on that and not the fact that he feels very much out of his depth.

"You like nice," Joe volunteers, because it's true. Nicky clearly made an effort, and he looks great standing on Joe's doorstep, slightly hesitant.

"Shakshuka," Joe tells him, taking the bottle with a grateful nod. "Come see." He leads Nicky to the kitchen, which is small but tidy, despite all the cooking Joe has been doing. He uncorks the bottle easily so the wine has time to breathe. "I think this will do nicely, thank you."

He lifts the lid on the cooker, showing the simmering dish to Nicky. "I haven't added the eggs yet." He gets a wooden spoon to stir. "Do you want a taste?"

Nicky steps inside and takes off his coat, draping it over his arm as he follows him to the kitchen, aware that he's in someone else's home. More than that, he doesn't think that this is all an elaborate set-up, not when Joe has cooked for him.

"It smells incredible, of course I do," he insists, searching over his shoulder for a spoon that he can use to dip into it. "I don't think I've had shakshuka at all," he admits, "but I've heard such good things and yours smells incredible. Do you always cook like this or am I special?"

"I'll take your coat," Joe says gently, easing it from Nicky's arm. He can tell that Nicky is a little tentative, a little unsure, and he wants to put him at ease.

He hangs the coat and comes back to watch Nicky grab a spoon and taste the shakshuka. "It's my mother's recipe, so it's obviously incredible," he teases, smiling. He gestures for Nicky to take a bite. "Let me know if it needs more spices," he says, coming closer.

"I often cook," he reveals, sounding amused. His smile is earnest, though. "But you are definitely special."

Nicky nods his thanks, starting to feel more comfortable with every passing moment. He dips the spoon into the shakshuka, taking a small taste while letting out an unexpected moan. His eyes widen when he catches himself, coughing to try and cover it up.

Well. That had been unexpected. "Maybe in my next review, I will have to suggest that you draw with as much passion as you cook," he admits. "This is very good, Joe." Very, very good.

It helps, too, to ignore the comment that he's special, which he doesn't know exactly what to do with, yet.

The noise Nicky makes when he tries the dish is both amusing and attractive and Joe grins, leaning against the counter. "I do everything with passion," he answers, playfully. "Thank you. I hoped you'd like it."

He reaches out for glasses, pouring them both a glass of wine carefully. "It'll need to cook for a while more. Let's have a drink, yes?" He leads the way to the living room, where he laid out a few snacks on the coffee table, including the really good olives from the Italian grocery store he got to impress Nicky.

Nicky sets the spoon down into the sink, his cheeks high with a flush as he leans back against the counter, putting a safe distance between him and Joe. He's still wary, of course, mainly because he only slightly knows him. One scathing review and several emails, plus a gallery meeting doesn't equal close friends.

Maybe they'll get there, both physically and emotionally soon.

He follows Joe into the living room, arching a brow when he smells the olives. He ducks to pop one into his mouth. This time, he's prepared, but it's no less good. "These are incredible," he praises. "Where did you get them?"

Joe likes the flush high on Nicky's cheekbones but he won't try to step closer, mindful to take this slow. He doesn't want to push Nicky too hard, it's true, but he's also wary of getting his own heart broken. Joe doesn't fall in love easily but when he does it's very deep, and while he thinks there could be something here, he doesn't want to get his hopes up and end up disappointed.

"Italian grocery store a few blocks away," Joe answers, taking a seat and grinning up to Nicky. "I asked what to buy to impress an Italian man and they recommended these."

Nicky bends over to pop an olive into his mouth, ducking down to pick up a few more. If this truly is for him and Joe had been trying to impress him, then it's no skin off his back if he has some more, is it? He gives Joe an appreciative smile as he settles down, sprawling out on the couch.

"You went to a lot of trouble for this and I only spent money on wine," Nicky admits, glad that he'd purchased a nice wine, at least. "But, consider this Italian man very impressed," he allows, giving him a happy nod.

"Have some," he encourages, gesturing to the olives. "I would feel awful if I ate them all."

Joe smiles, pleased that Nicky is enjoying the olives.

"You're willing to model for me for free, that's the least I can do," Joe corrects, sounding amused. "Models aren't cheap, and it's very boring to just sit there, I'm told. At least you get good olives out of this."

He leans in to try the olives, humming. "Pretty good." He smirks. "Are you going to leave if I tell you I prefer the Greek ones, though?"

"Are you going to sketch me eating olives?" If that's the case, suddenly Nicky's afternoon looks entirely better than before. He arches a brow when Joe insults him like that, shaking his head. "Yusuf," he sighs, using his proper name. "And here I thought we were starting to get along, then you had to go and say that."

It's a shame, it is, that his good opinion had to be reduced like this.

"You do realize I am going to talk to you while you work. It can't be that boring, or are you insulting yourself?"

It makes Joe laugh and he shakes his head, nodding easily. "You can keep the olives if you want, I don't mind." His name sounds good on Nicky's lips and Joe grins.

"I'm sorry bello, you had to find out about my fatal flaw one way or another." He's a bit tentative about the pet name, but the lady who'd recommended the olives at the Italian store had called him that and she hasn't let him down so far.

"Ah," Joe says, leaning back. "Yes, we'll talk. I'm probably going to sound a little distracted, though. It's difficult to focus on drawing and talking at the same time." He smiles. He will try his best to keep the conversation going, still. "But I'll listen to you. Some of my models have enjoyed ranting about their lives to me, while I was drawing them."

"You assume I will not eat them all," Nicky replies, leaning forward to pop another one into his mouth. They're very good and Nicky is already experiencing a great lift in his opinion of Joe, who must have gone to a good degree of trouble to find these for him.

He raises a brow, though, when Joe breaks out that name. "You're not using that word correctly," he chides, the critic at large once again. "To use it right, I'd say it to you. Un uomo bellissimmo," he praises. "Not for me."

He hums thoughtfully at the thought of a rant. "I think the only thing that gets me worked up is the artists I review," he admits, "but would that make you jealous?"

Joe laughs, leaning back to watch Nicky eat with obvious pleasure. "I'm fully aware you will eat them all," he corrects. "And quite ready to let you."

He tilts his head to the side when Nicky corrects his Italian, assuming he made a mistake. He grins when he understands what Nicky means, slow but warm. "Oh, so my mistake wasn't grammar, it was subject choice," he teases. "That's a lot more subjective I'm afraid, so we might have to agree to disagree."

Shrugging, Joe steals an olive before Nicky eats them all. "Unless you call them bellissimmo too, I think I'd be okay with it." He gives Nicky a playful wink. "I know you review other artists, Nicolo."

Nicky pops another olive into his mouth, dragging his thumb over his bottom lip as he does, unable to help his proud smile as he watches Joe, laughing under his breath at his continued conviction that Nicky is as handsome as he says.

He knows he's not ugly as shit, but he thinks it's rich coming from someone like Joe, who is so handsome, and so perfect.

"I don't call any of them handsome, because none of them are. Well," he drawls, "not like you. There have been one or two lookers, admittedly."

Does the casual stroke of Nicky's thumb over his own lip draw Joe's attention and rob him of his ability to reply for a full second? Yes, it does.

"Yes, well. Let's focus on the ugly ones, if you don't mind," Joe drawls, mock-archly. He takes a sip from his wine, humming low at the taste. "This is good wine," he says, grinning to Nicky. Perhaps he wasn't the only one trying to impress, after all.