the anatomy of love [BxB] COMPLETED

53

Jackson wakes up with his head squished inside the gap between two pillows and his legs spread out across the bed. He lifts his head, squinting against the light.

Wes is still sleeping, lying straight legged and compressed at the edge of the mattress, a small frown on his face. Jackson quietly gets out of bed, smiling involuntarily at how cute he finds Wes asleep.

It feels strange to walk around the apartment without Wes in the kitchen or standing next to him. Then Jackson sees the easel and realizes he never actually saw the painting Wes did. He walks over now.

Jackson stops when he sees it. The painting only depicts him from the waist and up. His left hand props up his face and his other hand drapes over his hip exactly how he remembered. While Wes's skill with the brush rivals even his skill in the bedroom, what makes his heart skip a beat when he looks at the painting is not the technique that artfully captures his figure, but rather the color, a subtle palette of blue hues that brings a solemn weight to his expression, eyelids lowered and mouth slightly parted. He looks both brimming with intensity and also timelessly still, like a cold statue of a figure flung in motion.

"Good morning."

Jackson turns. Wes stands in the door frame to the bedroom, hair tousled from sleep and a faint smile.

"You're very good," Jackson says, gesturing to the painting.

Wes shrugs. "It was just a sketch."

"Still good."

"Thank you," Wes says, nonchalant, but Jackson can sense he's pleased.

"You should frame it," Jackson jokes, imagining Caleb's reaction to learning that Wes had hung a nude painting of Jackson on his apartment walls.

"I just might," Wes says, and then asks, "Hungry?"

"Yes. Breakfast?" Jackson asks hopefully.

"If you'll help me make it." Then Wes pushes off the wall and walks towards Jackson, a sly smile spreading across his face. "You move around when you sleep. Did I tell you that before?" Wes slips an arm effortlessly around Jackson's waist, like it belongs there, and brings him closer.

"You snore when you sleep," Jackson counters with a grin. "Did I tell you that before?"

Wes narrows his eyes. "How do you know if I snore when you're always asleep first?"

"Hey!" Jackson protests. "Watching me sleep or something?"

"You're very beautiful when you sleep," Wes says quietly, frowning slightly. He gently touches Jackson's hair and then lets his hand fall. Stepping away, a smile returns to his face. "Breakfast?"

"Yes," Jackson agrees, and then smirks. "After last night...I'm starving."

Wes's eyes flicker with amusement. "And we didn't even use the belt."

"All you have to do is ask."

His eyes darken, then he goes to the kitchen and Jackson follows. Wes gets out a frying pan and opens the fridge.

He grabs four eggs, then turns to Jackson. "Can you get a bowl and a fork? Cabinet above the coffee machine and drawer left of the sink."

Jackson smiles to himself and opens the cabinet. He's never really had this, learning the daily, intimate details of another person's life whom he wants to keep learning about forever, like where they put the bowls and how they like their eggs and how they sound after just waking up.

It feels like his heart opening, drawing everything out of him and pouring into Wes. Jackson suddenly wants to tell him everything, show him everything, the good and the bad, the simple and the complicated. It's both terrifying and exhilarating.