butterflies // stenbrough

~ Stan ~

    "You all did so great!" Stan lied looking at all the kid's painting. They were supposed to be following his steps but some of them looked absolutely nothing like his own painting. Is it that hard to draw a branch and some leaves? "Your paintbrushes should go by the sink now!"
    "Everyone head to the main hall! It's time for lunch." Beverly shepherded the kids to the main hall. She had agreed to sit with their kids during lunch, and sometimes dinner, so that Stan and Bill could actually have alone time now that the zip line broke down.
    "Ahh I l-l-love Beverly." Bill sighed, leaning in for a kiss as every kid had left the cabin.
    "Our saviour." Stan smiled and eagerly returned Bill's advances.
"You know if I'm h-h-honest" Bill said, staring at what appeared to be a pirate ship(?) "I don't think these k-k-kids are true artists."
    "Maybe not the next Da Vinci's." Stan joked.
    "You m-might be though."
    "What?"
    "Yeah." Bill affirmed "You're really g-g-great at this s-stuff."
"Really?"
"Yes r-really! You c-could be an artist." Bill replied.
"I don't know. I've thought about it but it's not very practical." Stan admitted "I'd be better as an accountant or a doctor of some sort."
"Yeah but that's b-b-boring." Bill rolled his eyes "You w-would be an amazing artist!"
"Maybe." Stan shook his head a little, indulging in the fictionality of it all "For now, I'd do with just having a good muse."
"I can be your m-muse." Bill said, half joking.
"You would be the best muse." Stan replied, playing into the joke for a second, but only for a second. Soon the laughable premise seemed more plausible and appealing. "Can I.. paint you?" Bill laughed for a moment and Stan considered laughing along with him and acting as if he had been joking around this whole time.
"Sure." He finally replied.
"Really?" Stan lit up.
"Yeah, go ahead." Bill smiled.
    "Okay." Stan pulled up a stool "So sit here. Put your arms like -- no put them back, there's perfect." He played with Bill's limbs before deciding on a perfect pose for him and gathering his materials. Paint was the perfect medium for Bill, every brushstroke capturing his perfectly imperfect face.
    "Am I b-b-beautiful?" Bill joked.
    "Completely." Stan replied, dead serious. Bill was beautiful. Stan had known it from the moment they had met, but sitting there just staring at him and trying to replicate his features on canvas made it more apparent then ever. His rich brown eyes and perfectly messy hair could inspire a crush in even the most cynical anti-romantic.
A deep red flushed across Bill's face, which Stan had no problem adding into the painting. Bill might be embarrassed but the stunning contrast of the red on his pale skin was too stunning for an artist to look past. After all, Stan did have artistic integrity. They mostly sat in comfortable silence, an occasional joke or question about the painting floating through the air every now and then.
    "Stay still!" Stan exclaimed.
    "I'm s-s-sorry." Bill put his arms up in defence "Sorry again! Are you almost d-d-done though? Half of my b-body is asleep."
    "Just a few more minutes." Stan said, he was putting the finishing touches on the painting. The little things that the viewer doesn't really care about but an artist will always notice.
    "Okay." Bill resigned back to his pose and tried to ignore his temporary paralysis.
    "You can move, it's done." Stan told the relieved subject. The painting wasn't a masterpiece, but it was personal and undoubtedly Bill. Proud was an understatement, this painting meant more to Stan than anything else he'd ever done. Every brush stroke came together perfectly to form a painting that was vulnerable, true to him and achingly beautiful. Still, his hands ran through his hair and his fingernails dug into his palm as his subject made his way over to the painting.
"Stan..." Bill trailed off.
"What?" Stan asked, a confused panic in his voice.
"It's beautiful." Bill smiled.
"You're beautiful." Stan's worry subdued.
"Yeah." Bill replied "S-Sorry that's not... it's arrogant. But I've had p-p-problems in the p-past with self esteem and such but in this p-painting......... I look b-beautiful. Thank you."
"No problem babe." Stan wrapped his arms around the taller boy and promptly planted a kiss on his lips, which was happily received.
"Still though, s-s-spending your time p-painting another boy? That's p-pretty gay."
"Very." Stan went in for one last kiss before they had to tend to their pre-teen gremlins, all of which loved Stan's painting, proudly hung on the cabin wall.

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Hey! It's been a while since I updated. I've written bits and pieces of this story for weeks but never really officially ended it.