His Muse

Bidding paddle #69 feat. half-assed Ronan showdown

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The first thing Nic did was locate the enemy the second they walked into the building.

He was fuming before he even realized it. There were so many fancy people in their fancy tuxedos looking like their shit didn't stink and they had a check prepared at that very second to pay off Nic's student loans. He spent so long rooting around between groups of people at those fancy tall tables, that by the time Kieran ever caught up to him, nearly thirty minutes had gone by with no progress on finding Ronan.

"Nic, can you calm down for a second?" Kieran hissed, collecting a fistful of Nic's shirt and dragging him across the room. "People are starting to think you're being a creep and that you walked in uninvited."

"Uh, isn't that exactly what happened?" he said, squinting at his boyfriend. "Well, aside from the 'creep' part."

Kieran looked away from Nic, and it became evident that everything about this setting was clearly not sitting right with Kieran. Nic hadn't noticed it until Kieran's eyes drifted over the scene, all while he was straightening the front of his freshly-ironed suit muttering, "Yeah, well... you're making me nervous because you hardly seem nervous about this."

"Why should we be?" Nic asked, alarmed by the idea. Sure, he wasn't exactly familiar with the setting, but that was the sort of atmosphere he thrived in. No one had any expectations for him aside from quick judgements that wouldn't matter in the long run. He didn't have a whole lot of faith in Kieran's idea that anyone would want to commission him after the painting was sold, or that the painting sold at all...

Okay, maybe that was a reason to be nervous.

But wasn't that what Nic wanted? He didn't want his painting sold. He didn't want to sell it. Maybe that was where he fell short in the scheme of things—he couldn't let go of shit, not even a fucking portrait of Ronan in the nude draped in elegant silk sheets.

"Nothing. It's fine. I just hate stuffy people," Kieran confessed.

"Kind of explains why you're the complete opposite of stuffy. You don't care enough about what other people think of you," he commented under his breath as he turned to face the room. Their shoulders touched as they watched the room, and searched for Ezekiel and Eliana. They were already managing to mingle, and the fact that they could find those two so easily told Nic that if Ronan was there, he'd be noticeable. Ronan wouldn't be hiding.

The atrium in which they all mingled in was furnished with tall, vaulted ceilings paired with pure black marble columns to match the tiled floors. There was something naturally dark about the atmosphere, and yet because of it, the skylights managed to highlight the most important parts of the room—the paintings on the wall that weren't up for sale.

There was a wine bar staged in the back, with workers weaving between the tables to offer glasses to the attendees. They hadn't yet approached the two of them, considering they happened to be the youngest people there. Slowly, it started to dawn on Nic why Kieran was so hesitant to even make conversation with these people. It was starting to feel like they shouldn't have come here in the first place. Even in his best shirt and slacks, Nic still looked like a struggling college student who slept too little, showered probably less than he should have, and was desperately trying to find a reason to keep himself on his feet with the prospect of free food across the room.

Nic leaned towards Kieran's ear and asked, "You think all these snooty old guys would care if I put my arm around you?"

"Probably. But then again we're at an art auction. I can't imagine anyone who buys Ronan's portrait is entirely straight," Kieran confessed, laughing as Nic slipped hand over his lower back. He settled his hand at Kieran's opposite hip as they watched Ezekiel stride across the room to reach them.