Gay Band Member One Shots

Chilly?

Can you write a one shot about Vic warming up Kellin at night? It doesnt have to be long

Also, check out my Jalex Twisted Inside!

Vic's POV

Here I was, once again, on the couch.

Kellin, my husband, and I got into another argument about how I leave a lot due to my job as an astronomer. I can't help I travel a lot, to go to meetings, and to go to different places to see where the stars and constellations were the brightest.

I've put a lot of my pictures in different books. Some science books, some text books, some magazines, and even written a few novels.

I love my job; every since I was a child I've had a love towards space. The mysteries and black holes have always intrigued me. So, right after high school, I did my years of college and got a doctrine in Astronomy.

That's how I met Kellin. He was an art student and one day was drawing out constellations and planets on the sidewalk in chalk.

It was beautiful; all of the colours he used, and all of the shades, tints, and even splattered some glitter across it.

It poured five minutes after he finished. Instead of crying, he laughed and smiled when his professor gave him an A for his drawing.

I ran over with an umbrella and one of my hoodies with Saturn on it so he could dry off.

We connected. That day, I found out I wasn't looking at the chalk drawing with fondness, I was looking at the beautiful, immaculate boy with fondness.

So after Kellin remarked under his breath about how I always leave him, I got a bit outraged and said, "Well, at least I don't ruin things with paints and oils."

That made him upset; it isn't his fault he's an artist. I remember the day his painting got into an art museum in New York.

He was ecstatic; Kellin's painting of the beautiful, tall, leafy-green tree during the day and his painting of the broken, destroyed tree in the sunset with the words 'Save Nature' printed in the last two leaves brought in nearly seven thousand people.

Awarded with almost three hundred thousand dollars, he went back to work on new pieces.

Ever since, his artwork had been selling for thousands of dollars.

So after I remarked his messiness, he put down his pencil and eraser on his canvas, and rolled his eyes at me.

"Vic, just stop."

I strode across the room in front of him.

"You started it, Kellin."

He picked up his pencil and began to sketch out his constellation over the Grand Canyon.

"You're acting childish."

Kellin is about ninety percent of my impulse control, so when he leaves for his career, it typically results in me doing something I'll regret when Kellin gets back.

Like, for example, cutting the sleeves off of all my work shirts.

I got in his face, and tossed his pencil across the room. Taking his canvas, I threw it on the floor.

"Victor Vincent! Be careful with that!" Kellin shouted as he caught the paint I nearly knocked on it.

"At least I don't cry when you leave." I mumbled.

"At least I don't cheat on you when you leave."

For some reason, that drove me over edge. I cheated on him once. I was super stressed out, so I called my friend Jaime, and slept with him.

"Shit the fuck up Kel-" my hand flew and knocked over black paint on Kellin's day-long sketch of his next project.

I gasped, as did Kellin, and it got dead silent. Kellin's eyes filled up with tears, and regret instantly filled in the spot where my rage was.

"Kellin I'm so-"

"Don't fucking touch me." Kellin cried. "Sleep on the couch. Don't even talk to me, Victor."

When Kellin got in his room and slammed the door, he turned on the radio to try and block out his crying.

I was left on the couch with my arms open, and the paint still oozing on his sketch.

Picking up the paint, I cleaned his art supplies up a little and set his canvas, now ruined with paint, to the side to dry.

I kicked off my pants and ripped off my shirt, and laid on the couch. I draped the blanket over me, and slowly fell asleep.

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"Vic." Kellin whimpered as he tapped my face.

"Hmm?" I asked, still half asleep.

"Cold."

I sighed and woke up a little more. Opening my arms, Kellin fell in my grasp and snuggled into my neck and chest. He was really cold.

Rubbing his back to create some kind of friction, he began to speak.

"I'm sorry I started an argument."

I pecked his head.

"I'm sorry I spilled paint."

"It's okay. I have a different idea; black background, neon paint." Kellin said in my neck.

Grinning, I hugged him tightly and rubbed his back more. And both of us forgot about the argument and fell asleep, warm in each other's grasp.

Then, the next day, Kellin fixed his painting, and I put it in my office at my work as a reminder everything is okay between us.