Written for Evaine for the 2009 xmas_rocks exchange
| This story is a work of fiction and therefore completely untrue. No harm or libel is meant or implied about any of the individuals named within this work and it was written without their involvement or permission. No profit is being made. |
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This was all Taylor's fucking fault. But then again, so was virtually every ridiculous situation Stewart found himself in these days, so he knew he really should be used to it by now. "The things you do for love," blah blah blah as that old song went. Nevertheless, a man with any sort of dignity and self-respect had to draw the line somewhere, didn't he? "Stop fidgeting," Tico barked at him. "How much longer is this going to take?" Stewart asked, not even attempting to keep the whininess out of his voice this time. It was at least the third or fourth time he'd repeated the question - in just the last hour. Problem being he never got an answer he liked in response. "However fucking long it takes. Christ. You are the most pain-in-the-ass subject I've ever had to work on, you know that?" Stewart sighed and tried to ignore the growing itch behind his ear. "I think my foot's fallen asleep." "I wish to God the rest of you would, while your ear's at it. Then at least you would shut. up. and. stay. still." Seeing as he was getting absolutely nowhere garnering any sympathy, Stewart tried to think of something - anything - besides how uncomfortable he was. Happy thoughts. Think happy, comforting thoughts. Like how he was going to get revenge on Taylor for putting him through this dire embarrassment. Because revenge wasn't even an option - it was nothing short of a necessity at this point.
Stewart should have known from past experience that any time a large number of his drummer friends assembled in one place, trouble was sure to follow. Two in one place was pretty much a normal state of affairs what with Taylor being around; three, however, and things could begin to get dicey. But four? Well, that was just about a surefire recipe for disaster. Forget the Four Hosemen of the Apocalypse - four members of the Secret Drummer Society converging in one place should be noted as a far graver sign of gloom and doom of biblical proportions. And this time the convergence had occurred at Tico's place in New Jersey, because Taylor had suggested it. Because apparently Taylor had talked to David ("The bouncy one with curly hair, not Foo-Dave." "Right, sorry. We know too many Davids.") , who had called Taylor because he thought Tico sounded a little grumpy and lonely as Nicko was still out on tour and he'd be spending Thanksgiving on his own, and that simply was not acceptable. David ("the bouncy one") was a good friend like that, always concerned about his best buddies and wanting to make sure they were happy, even if him and Taylor scheming over anything should have set off major warning alarms in Stewart's head (considering the last time they'd done so had involved a birthday party for Stewart that had ended up with Nicko and Tico in hula skirts, David attempting a bellydance with Dave (the Foo one), a bottle of absinthe and Taylor in a sparkly dress proclaiming himself to be the Green Fairy. Mercifully Stewart remembered little more than that, though he did wake up the next day with flowers in his hair and glitter in unfortunate places...) In any event, Taylor proposed they hop a plane (specifically, the Foo jet - why not when no one else was using it) up to Tico's for a pseudo/early/surprise Thanksgiving feast for the Secret Drummers Society (plus honorary pianist). Dave would come too, because the Foos were going to be on Top Chef that night and it would be fun for them all watch it together, right? Right, sure, whatever. As long as no absinthe and grass skirts were involved, it seemed like a safe enough plan. And it probably could have been, considering Taylor was kept away from the kitchen and the food was all ordered in or brought over by David who actually could cook, bless him, unlike any of the drummers in attendance. That's why he got to be an honorary member of the Society. Tico did seem happy with the company, and Stewart was amused that among this merry little group he no longer had to wear the crown of shame of being a reality-tv "celebrity" on his own ("Yeah, but we didn't make two seasons of it, champ," Dave had to make a point remind him. Thanks, Dave.) "This is a pretty cool place, Teek," Taylor observed, once the main meal had been devoured, television watched ("A wall of toaster ovens? That's the best you guys can afford?" "Sorry, but some of us don't have the bazillions on budget for a gourmet kitchen staff to prepare us a Moroccan feast every night on tour.") and only coffee and a banana cream pie remained. They were sprawled out in Tico's living room, which was tastefully decorated in high-end, modern furniture, looking like something more out of Miami Beach than middle-of-nowhere New Jersey. "I really like the art," Taylor added. "Thanks," Tico answered, settling down in one of the oversized chairs. "Who's the artist?" Taylor asked. "He is," Stewart said, pointing towards Tico. "Didn't you know Teek is our very own modern master of the painted medium?" "Really? No shit." Taylor got up from his seat and went to get a better look at some of the pieces on the wall. They were mostly all colorful, vibrant works, expressive while still grounded in reality. "That's cool. You do that one, too?" he asked, pointing at a large painting of a reclining woman in blue on a red sofa. "I did 'em all," Tico said, a note of pride in his voice. "Hey, why pay to hang someone else's art around the place when I've got my own work to show? At least until it sells." "How much would you get for a piece like that?" Taylor asked. Tico shrugged. "Depends. Twelve, maybe fifteen." "Thousand? That ain't bad." "Depends on the market - which is pretty much shit for fine art lately. And I haven't had the time to work on much of anything new the past year or two with the tour and everything." "Which is a shame, because Teek really is a great artist," David put in, as he came out of the kitchen with a tray loaded with slices of pie. "I have a portrait he did of me once, for my birthday, that is absolutely amazing. And there's a great one of Nicko upstairs you should see." "Huh, I'll have to check that out." Taylor grabbed two slices of pie and went back to the sofa he and Stewart were sharing. He gave Stewart one, and also gave him one of his looks while he was at it - that devious look which Stewart knew by now meant he was scheming something. Something dangerous. Uh-oh. "Hey Teek, think you could do a portrait of Stew for me?" "No," Stewart answered at the same time as Tico said, "Probably." Looking at Stewart, Tico frowned and wanted to know, "Why not?" "Because it would be...I dunno...weird, wouldn't it? I see my ugly mug every day, don't need it hanging on a wall somewhere." "You're full of shit," Taylor said. To Tico, he continued, "Stewart has this huge, crazy painting of himself hanging his studio that he fucking loves and it's the weirdest goddamned thing you've ever seen. Some fan did it like twenty years ago and he's had it with him ever since. In it he's like...naked and draped in ribbons and wearing war paint like some kind of new wave voodoo warrior." "That thing is weird, Stew," Dave confirmed and then, "Mmm, pie." "I made it," David said proudly. "Mmm. You're our very own Top Chef, Bryan." "That's about the only thing David ever tops," Taylor teased, licking some whipped cream off his finger. "So what is this, the night to attack my taste in art? I happen to find that piece rather...inspiring," Stewart said defensively. "It's still hideous," Taylor said. "And I'd like to see what Tico could come up with instead. You think you could get something done in time for Christmas? Like a gift for myself - that way you don't have to buy me anything," Taylor explained to Stewart. "Gee, thanks." "I'll pay you for it," Taylor said to Tico. "I ain't gonna take your money," Tico waved him off. "If you want it and Stewart's willing, hell...it'll be my Christmas gift to both of you. I need a little push to get painting again. As long as Stewart has the time to sit for me, I think I'm gonna be in L.A. at some point next month and can do it then." "A photo won't suffice?" Stewart asked, hopeful. "No." Exasperated, Stewart looked around at his companions but saw any chance for escape at this point was hopeless. David only smiled and went "Aw," Dave was lost in orgasmic delight over his pie, Tico was willing and Taylor was giving him that damned puppy dog "please" look that he was completely defenseless against. "It's obvious to me at this juncture that I have no choice in the matter, do I?" he sighed. "None whatsoever," Taylor answered. "Fuck all of you then. Someone get me another drink."
Of course, if Tico had known Stewart was going to be like this, he never would have agreed to do the painting. Certainly not for free. Stewart had put him off for two weeks after Thanksgiving, making up one excuse or another for not scheduling a sitting time until Tico finally had to tell him, "Look, there's only twelve days left before Christmas, I'm gonna be in town next week for a couple days and after that I've got my own shit to deal with - so are you gonna let me come over to work on the goddamned painting or not?" So it was a sour-faced Stewart who finally let Tico in his Brentwood home several days later, looking none too thrilled to see him show up with a very large blank canvas and his travel case of brushes and paints. "That's...pretty big," Stewart said when he saw the canvas. "As per Taylor's request." "Great. What else did he have in mind, or do I want to know?" "Probably not, but you will soon enough. Which way is the studio?" "After me, come on."
Taylor had emailed Tico his ideas for the portrait just a few days after their little dinner party, which included the drummers' home studio for a setting - and Tico could see why as soon as he stepped into the bright room. The natural light that came in the large windows would be perfect to work in, and the walls were adorned with interesting artifacts, masks, and instruments from all around the world. And that hideous painting of Stewart with the ribbons. "Jesus Christ," Tico swore when he saw it. "Shut up." Stewart put his coffee mug down on top of a spare floor tom and sat behind the stool of his Tama kit. "Okay, so what did you have in mind, some kind of 'in action' pose? The maestro at work, behind his chariot of fire?" "Not exactly." Tico was looking around, trying to decide the best way to position his canvas and assemble his easel. "Mind if I move that sofa a little bit?" "You're the artiste, do as you wish." "Get over here and help me, then." The two moved the tan leather sofa away from its spot directly under the window to in front of the dark wood bookcase, which was full of small knick-knacks, photos and strange objects. Tico stepped back, thought for a moment, then placed a djembe drum on one side of it, then shifted a large African fertility god statue to stand close to the other end. "I suppose that'll do," Tico said, liking the contrast of light and dark objects, wooden and metal textures. "Great! How about we just stick a pumpkin in the middle and call it a still life?" "Nice try. Now get your bony ass on a sofa while I finish setting up. I want to get the initial blocking done before we lose the morning light." Stewart started walking toward it while Tico grabbed a chair and began setting up his palette. "One more thing - get undressed first." "Oh, fuck no." "Taylor's request." "But..." "You gonna let your little sunshine of love down?" Tico teased. "Come on, it's nothing I ain't seen before, so lose the duds and let's get going." Stewart shook his head but started unbuttoning his shirt. "I can't believe I'm doing this." "Yeah, well, join the club. Somehow I don't think this painting is going to be the Mona Lisa of my career, either."
Something wasn't quite right. "What is it?" "Shut up, I'm thinking." It wasn't the overall composition, that Tico was actually pretty happy with. And after a good half-hour struggling (and wanting repeatedly to strangle Stewart) to find the right pose and position, they somehow had. At least Tico thought so, with trying to visualize Taylor's ideas and then formulate them into something he as the artist felt happy with, that he could find interesting to work on. He'd been playing with the basic form blocking and colors all morning and it was beginning to take some kind of shape on his canvas, rough but there, a start of something. Truth of the matter was, Stewart made for a decent subject (when he would fucking stay still), all angles and sharp features, which Tico interpreted easily in his style through strong, unblended strokes of the brush. Not too much fusswork here; Stewart wouldn't even give him the opportunity for that. Tico was more interested in capturing an essence here than the perfect likeness, and despite all his grumbling and Stewart's whining he was starting to kind of like where this painting was going. But still, something just wasn't quite right. He glanced back and forth between his canvas, his palette of browns, reds and pinks, and Stewart looking at him anxiously. "Color," Tico decided. "There's not enough color, it's too monochrome. It needs...some kind of focal point of color." "The intense crimson flush of my face in humiliation isn't enough for you?" Tico's eyes scanned the studio around them, looking for something to throw in for balance. He was getting ready for a break himself but not until he solved this problem, not while this first layer of acrylic was still workable. Crimson, red, yes, there was a lot of that there already in the flesh tones and the browns, which he had all mixed fresh from his limited palette of primary colors to keep them strong and vibrant. But the reds needed something to set them off. And the complementary color for red was... He spotted it, draped over a drum across the room. "I got it," he said, rising and picking up the bright green rectangle of fabric. "Wait a minute, that's..." "Just what I needed, here, hold it in that hand just so...now drape it like that and..." Tico stepped back and grinned. "Perfect." "Sacrilege." "You looked like you were feeling a little immodest. I thought I'd put you at ease." "At ease would be putting me out of my misery here, not desecrating a sacred artifact of my former glory like this." "It's a fucking green flag. Deal with it." He pulled out a tube of viridian and a clean brush. "Now shut up and let me at least sketch it in so we can break for lunch."
Stewart felt slightly less grumpy about this whole mortifying business after getting some food on his stomach. There was leftover Indian in the fridge from the previous night's take-out, and a big tin of Christmas cookies sent by Taylor's mom. Not the most stellar flavor combination perhaps, but washed down with a fresh pot of strong coffee, it all tasted good enough to him, and Tico wasn't complaining - for the first time all day. "Where is Taylor right now, anyway?" Tico asked him. "Spending a few days with his folks before the holidays. Then we're going over to England to see some of my brood at the end of the year." "That should be nice." "Should be." Stewart pushed away the last of the chana masala and reached for a gingersnap. Tico wouldn't let him see the painting as it stood now in its half-completed state, and truthfully Stewart was perfectly fine with that. It wasn't that he didn't trust Tico's talents as an artist; he simply would rather admire them when applied to subject matter other than his bare ass. "So what got you started on painting, anyway?" "Can't really remember when I got the bug for it - just one of those things, you know? I think I picked up a starter kit on the road somewhere, looking for something to do during those long hours waiting between gigs. Just took off from there." "Sort of how Andy got started with his photography, and myself with the video camera. Anything to kill the time. Unfortunately for the world at large, that's how Stingo picked up the lute, too." "God help us all." Stewart grabbed another cookie. "You know, I should make you do a painting of Taylor to get back at him for this sometime. Only problem is he'd probably enjoy it too damned much." "If you let him wear his little red dress, you know he'd probably love every minute of it." "Without question." "So what've you been keeping busy with these past months?" Tico asked. "Haven't seen you since, hell...you were still on tour." "Eh, lots of this, lots of that. Working on a book. And some music. One of the kids got married." Stewart shrugged. "Just getting back to some sense of normalcy again." "And how's that been working out for you?" Stewart paused, the question catching him slightly off guard. "Maybe...not as easily as I thought it should have been." "Who says it should be easy? And shit, with Taylor in the equation I tend to think 'normal' is kind of a lost cause from the start." "You very well might have a point, there." "He's okay, though. A little cracked, but okay." "The same could probably be said about each and every one of us." "I'll drink to that," Tico agreed, "but after we're done with the painting."
Stewart must've switched to decaf at lunchtime, Tico thought, because he was much easier to work with in the afternoon. At this point, the basic painting was all blocked in, and Tico's main concern was getting the details right, deciding what to add in, what to take out, putting the character and spirit into the composition. In other words, this was the fun part. "You're gonna really have this done in one day?" Stewart asked him. "Probably. Some artists will fuss forever on a painting, but I think that kills its soul. So that's not the way I work. I might stick it up against the wall for a few days in my hotel, then turn it around to see if there's anything to change before I head off home. But...I know I ain't gonna get you to sit still for another day anyhow." "And this is really what Taylor wanted." "It's Taylor, you really have to ask?" Tico picked up a dab of halftone shadow color, streaking it along the line of one inner thigh. He smiled, pleased by the way the simple stroke made the form turn and slip away into the shadowed area of the sofa behind Stewart's body. "He liked the reclining figure painting in my house, only he wanted it to be you. And naked. And believe it or not, I think you're gonna like it when it's done. I'm liking it." "As long as someone's having fun." "Get off it. You know you love being the center of attention." "Under the right circumstances." Stewart pushed his glasses up his nose. He'd insisted on keeping them on, and Tico had to admit it had given the painting a little extra touch of personality as he'd worked the suggestion of the metal frames in. Only problem was, Stewart's more mellow demeanor had led to a shift in his facial expression, and Tico was trying to decide whether to adjust for it or not. There seemed to be something naughty brewing behind his eyes, and Stewart then said, "You know, it strikes me as entirely unfair that only one of us has had to spend the majority of this day naked." "Them's the breaks." "C'mon, you owe me something for pain and suffering. I've been staring at the same boring scene all day. You could give me something more interesting to look at, here." Tico sighed, thinking Stewart was nuts, but...then again, what was that Stewart had said about them all being a little cracked? Because for whatever reason it actually didn't sound like the worst idea he'd ever heard - and at least he wouldn't have to worry about getting paint on his clothes. "I strip, and you keep your goddamned mouth shut until I'm done with this painting." "Deal." Tico put down his brushes for a minute to stand up and start undressing.
Able to concentrate in peace and quiet at last, Tico managed to push through the finishing touches on the painting swiftly. Adding a little highlight here and darker shadow there, he stepped back and forth from the canvas repeatedly to check how it looked from a viewing distance, and was pretty damned pleased with what he saw. And more importantly, he was fairly certain Taylor would be, too. Whatever Stewart thought of it was his problem. "Are we done yet?" "Did I say you could start talking? But yeah...I think it's done. Don't move yet, though, give me a few more minutes to be sure." He started a final scan between his painting and his model, checking for any last details that might be off and need correcting. Tico frowned as his eyes scanned downward. He knew the light had changed somewhat but there was a large shadow on the green fabric draped low over Stewart's waist that hadn't been there before, as far as he could recall. A rather significant shadow he didn't know how he'd missed, unless... Oh. Well, he supposed that gave "raising the flag" a new meaning. Tico fussed with a last few brushstrokes before deciding that enough was definitely enough. "Okay, it's done," he declared. "Thank God." "Yeah, I can see you've got other things on your mind right now." Stewart grinned as he got up and stretched. "I can see I'm not the only one, either." "Guilty as charged." Tico walked away from the canvas and over to Stewart, asking, "How about that drink you promised once we were done?" "Libations can wait," Stewart said. "How about we get on with some other business first?" Tico shrugged. "Your house, your rules." "Finally! So how about this for a start: your mouth on my cock." "And then?" "Then I think you can figure out the rest."
He'd missed cleaning a dab of alizarin crimson off his thumb, and now the color was smeared across Stewart's right shoulder. For whatever reason, Tico couldn't stop staring at it while they were fucking, the sight of it maddeningly hot, that deep red smudged against pale skin. Maybe Stewart was onto something about painting naked - though more in the sense of getting paint on naked bodies instead of while working on a canvas. But. Right. Fucking. That was the important thing at the moment. After all those hours of intense concentration (and aggravation) (and staring at that damned body when he knew what fun he could have with it that didn't involve a paintbrush), a good fuck to finish the day off had certainly seemed like a wonderful idea. They hadn't even made it out of the studio; the sofa had been declared sufficient, at least for a start, though later they'd ended up in the bedroom after a few shots of that promised tequila. Now Tico was still staring at that crimson red while pumping hard into Stewart's ass, his vision a blur of color, form and shadow, but enough of thinking about that. It was time to turn off the artist-part of the brain and concentrate on more animalistic needs. "I heard...you had a thing...for fucking models," Stewart managed to gasp out between heavy breaths. "And you like guys who wear dresses. So? ...Shit, here it comes..." And that's when he did, hard, groaning as the release ran through his body. He collapsed onto the mattress, sweaty and hot, in a way thankful that not all of his painting sessions ended in such a fashion. He didn't know if he would have the stamina to survive it. "You shouldn't knock it 'till you try it, Teek." "Huhwhat?" He was still down for the count and Stewart was already sitting up and going for a cigarette. "You, in a little black cocktail dress? I can only imagine how Nicko would respond to that." "Yeah, he'd send me straight to the looney bin - which probably is not much different than hanging around with you and Taylor." Stewart just gave him a goofy grin and passed Tico a cigarette.
"So you really like it." "It's awesome. I can't wait to hear what Dave thinks of it." "I thought this was going to remain part of our private collection." "Too late. I already sent him a pic on my cellphone." Stewart groaned and debated giving Taylor a swift kick out of bed as he sat there laughing at Stewart's misery. But if it made Taylor so damned happy, Stewart supposed he'd have to live with the thing - even hanging prominently in their bedroom where he'd have to look at it every damned day. The compromise was the ribbon picture remained in the studio. Taylor had pouted but on some points there would be no further negotiations. "I guess it's not a bad likeness. Tico does have his talents." And with more than just a paintbrush or a pair of sticks. "I think it's hot." "Well, I told him he could take a little artistic license as necessary." "I'll still take the real thing any day." "Good, 'cause I'm afraid that's who you're stuck with." With that, Stewart turned out the lights, saying goodnight to the painting and feeling thankful for the "real thing" waiting to slip into his arms for a kiss.
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