Sanscest One-shots (Fluff/Smut) :::Requests:::CLOSED

:::Poth::: Taking a Step Back -- (Fluff)

A/N: So I've been on a fuckin' roll apparently, and all I needed was a shitty cold to kick my ass and two exams to haunt me with inevitable failure. Who knew?

Anyway, enjoy some Poth fluff that I've been sitting on for a while and only just managed to finish.

Coming home to a silent apartment was a bit unnerving to the reaper, especially given it was only early evening. Normally Goth would come home from work to some kind of greeting from Palette but it was unexpectedly quiet now. Goth didn't really dwell on it for too long, assuming the artist must have occupied himself in some way that grabbed his attention entirely. He made his way into Palette's room, poking his head in to see the other intensely staring at a nearly blank canvas.

"Hey Palette," The artist perked up from his contemplative stance, sparing a glance towards the origin of the voice.

"Hmm? Oh hey, didn't hear you come in," Palette quickly brought his attention back to his rough sketch where frustrated lines were drawn over one another as though attempting to remedy the dissatisfaction the previous drawing had yet still falling short. This became more apparent to Goth as he walked towards the easel his boyfriend sat in front of.

"You seem awfully distracted," Goth commented shortly, not wanting to break Palette from his concentration, although it hardly seemed like that's what he was before.

"Yea, I don't know, I've been trying to work on a piece all day, but I'm just not sure I'm feeling it," Palette brought his hand up, pressing the side of his index finger onto his upper 'lip', biting the tip of his thumb in hopes that it may jumpstart his thoughts into making sense of the mess in front of him. Goth studied the canvas a bit before looking at Palette again, seeing his usually fiery eyelights have an air of defeat in them.

"Hmm, maybe you should step back and take a break, forcing yourself to do it probably won't do you any good anyway," The smaller placed a hand on his boyfriend's shoulder, hoping Palette would concede and glance away from the unfinished artwork.

"Maybe, I just- I feel the need to be productive on this but nothing's working out," Goth couldn't honestly remember the last time he has seen Palette this frustrated with his art, and frankly, it concerned him: It couldn't be good for Palette to beat himself up for lacking inspiration. With a brief sigh, Goth gently tugged at Palette's arm to persuade him to stand up, seemingly with little luck.

"Come on, I can make some hot tea and we can spend some time on the couch, maybe watch a movie, it'll help take your mind off it," Still Palette continued to look at the canvas causing Goth to huff before tugging on his arm more insistently, "Palette, glaring at it won't work it out any faster. Just forget about it for now and you can start back up tomorrow with a fresh mind or you could just try working on something else," Finally setting his pencil down, Palette rubbed his forehead with a heavy sigh.

"Yea, maybe," Goth cupped the opposite side of Palette's face to turn his skull towards him, looking into his eyelights.

"Palette, you shouldn't have to stress yourself out about this, take a break, please," Palette looked to the side, a sense of guilt stealing him at the concern he had caused for his boyfriend.

"It just feels unnatural not having the inspiration to draw, like a part of me disappeared. I don't like it," Cupping the other side of his face, Goth left a short kiss on Palette's 'lips', drawing away with a reassuring smile.

"Just take your mind off it for now, okay?" Palette finally gave in, knowing that Goth was right, leaving his room with him to take a seat on the couch in the living area, "You better stay put alright, I'll get the kettle started," Walking towards their kitchen, Goth shot a firm glance at Palette with the expectation of his instruction to be followed. Palette spared a weak smile at Goth's intentions, leaning back onto the couch cushions with a sigh, finding himself still being pestered by the nagging feeling his unfinished art left in him.