"Thundering typhoons, boy! Keep still!"
Haddock peered over his sketchbook to sneer at the young redhead giggling, lying in bed across from him. It's a good thing he chose to be a reporter and not a model, the captain thought he scribbled on the pad with his pencil in a huff.
"Are you almost done? I'm starting to get cold, you know," Tintin teased, his naked legs politely crossed, his nether regions concealed by Haddock's bed sheets.
"Don't give me that garbage; this was all your idea!" The captain pouted.
He was right about that much, though.
Though his alcoholism had mostly dissipated since making friends with Tintin, Captain Haddock still found himself sipping back on grandpa's medicine quite a bit more than he should.
"All that drinking will destroy your liver!" Tintin nagged one day. "Maybe if you found some sort of outlet, you wouldn't have time to drink so much."
"Outlet?" the captain questioned.
"Y'know, like a hobby! I play the cello, Chang likes to play mahjong in his spare time, and Calculus has his rose garden…" he trailed off. "We just need to find something that you like to do that can replace your excess drinking."
Haddock had no idea where this was going, but he was sure he wasn't going to like it.
"I got it!" the redhead snapped as the light bulb went off in his head. "There's that new art studio opening up next week. We can sign you up for art lessons!"
"Now you wait just a cotton-picking minute!" the bearded captain cut in, hands held in front of him defensively. "If you think I'm signing up for some artsy-fartsy class where all they do is draw naked men and brood over bowls of fruit, you can count me out! Besides, it's not like I get that drunk!"
"Maybe it's just my saying this, but last I checked, my name was not, nor has it ever been pronounced as 'Titnin,'" Tintin chided, slightly irritated by this memory. "But come on, Captain, it could be fun!" He got close to Haddock, their cheeks practically touching.
"Please~?"
The captain instantly broke gaze with his redheaded friend, pouting. Sighing, he finally decided, "Fine. I'll do it. For you. So you better not complain about it later or anything!"
So about a week later, the two went to get Haddock signed up for lessons for every Monday and Thursday. The only classes available for his age group involved using nude models, much to the captain's chagrin. But through Tintin's influence he managed to suck it up and follow through.
And to be honest, it actually wasn't that bad. When the captain had gotten the hang of it, drawing had become, dare he say it, fun, to the point where he actually looked forward to his classes.
It was one Thursday in March when his instructor, an affable old coot by the name of Mr. Vincent Canvas, announced that they were going to start drawing with nude models—one male, one female. After getting over the initial shock of seeing some stranger in the buck, everything else was smooth sailing. Not to say that drawing people didn't come with difficulty, because it most certainly had. Haddock had not fathomed that there were so many rules to follow when drawing people.
"Blistering barnacles…" Haddock grumbled as he erased and tried to redraw the man's leg. Drawing took patience, but by Red Rackham's treasure, he'd passed the point of no return, and his stubborn streak refused to give up.
During the other days of the week where the lessons weren't held, the captain would occupy himself by drawing things he found around Marlinspike—chairs, grandfather clocks, he even tried drawing Snowy once (much to the dog's irritation of having to be constantly told to "stay still, darnflabbit!"). And while he was pretty good at drawing inanimate objects and Snowy, he was still having a slight difficulty in drawing the human anatomy. He tried all the tricks that Canvas had suggested last Monday, but proportions and drawing the legs were not his strong points.
One day while the captain attempted to sketch out a bowl of fruit sitting on the kitchen table, Tintin walked up behind him and quietly peered over his shoulder.
"You're getting better, I see," the reporter said, bemused by Haddock's concentration.
"Not my best, I'm afraid," the captain replied, scribbling the orange's small bumps. "Still can't draw people a hundred percent, yet."
Tintin asked Haddock to see his sketchbook for a second and flipped through some of the pages. "Captain, these look great! I'm sure you can do it, you just need more practice, that's all."
"We only use the models on Thursdays, and it's not like I can just draw myself," Haddock explained. "So I can't really put in much practice more than one day a week."
"Oh, nonsense, I'm sure you'll think of something," the redhead nodded with confidence. Tintin continued to think while Haddock continued with his fruit.
Suddenly the reporter had an idea. It was…a bit…well, bold, but he was willing to try it if the captain would.
"Why don't you draw me?"
Haddock's hand clenched so hard his pencil snapped in half.
"What?"
"Well, since you only get to use the models on Thursdays, I could help you practice when you're home."
The captain initially resisted, not because he'd be seeing a man naked, but because that meant that he'd be seeing Tintin naked. It was one thing with a stranger whom he had no feelings for other than (maybe) acquaintanceship, but Tintin was his best friend. Thundering typhoons, didn't the boy realize the awkwardness that may ensue from this?
And yet, there he was the next night at Haddock's bedroom door, in nothing but a trench coat—Heaven forbid poor Nestor see him like this!—and an eager smile. For modesty's sake, Haddock had insisted that Tintin waited until he was under the covers to remove his only article of clothing. I don't see why he's so weird about this, Tintin thought, a tad puzzled as he peeled off his coat and posed accordingly. He acts as if he's never seen one before…
An hour went by slowly for Tintin as Haddock scribbled away in his sketchbook, grumbling every so often when he had to erase something. The arm that Tintin had propped over his head was starting to get tired and his nose itched like crazy. He waited for Haddock to look away for just a second and scratched away, only tensing back up when the captain went to look back at him.
"I-I saw that!"
"Sorry, Captain," Tintin replied sheepishly. "How much longer is this going to take?"
"This kind of stuff takes time," the captain replied. "You of all people oughta know that."
"Well sorry I asked," the redhead pouted and said no more.
It wasn't really that Tintin himself was being irritating to Haddock, but just this whole situation seemed…wrong. Tintin didn't seem to think much of it because he naively thought of his volunteering as a helpful gesture. But for Haddock it was…What was the right word? torturous? painful? There was just something about this boy—his slender but toned frame, his perfect legs, his complexion, his eyes—that made the captain's heart skip a beat. And just seeing him lying in his bed in nothing but a bed sheet was just too much.
But why, though? Blue blistering barnacles, if he didn't know any better he'd swear he was—
Oh, no. No, no, no.I'm not going t—no, that's out of the question! It's just an awkward situation that I'll get over as soon as it's finished with!
About another reasonable span of time later, Haddock ended his inner monologue and looked up from his sketchpad.
"Alright, I got your upper body, at least. How about we take five? My fingers are getting cramped up," he said, flexing his fingers for emphasis.
Tintin sighed with relief, stretching. "Thank goodness, I thought I was going to be stuck in that pose forever!" he chuckled, now positioned where his legs were hung over the edge of the bed, sitting casually.
"So can I see?"
The captain turned red, a tad modest of his progress. "It's not quite done yet," he replied, clutching the sketchbook close to his chest to hide it from view.
"That's fine," the boy stood up to get a better look, "I just want to see what you've got done so far. I'm sure it looks fine—"
"N-no way!" Haddock cut him off, briefly pausing to reclaim his cool over the fact that Tintin had now started to approach him with the bed sheet loosely held around his waist.
"Don't be so stingy! C'mon, I'm sure it looks gr—ah!" At that moment, the redhead had accidentally stepped on his bed sheet and tripped up on his feet. In probably the most cookie-cutter way possible, he landed right on top of Haddock, causing him to fall backwards onto the floor with a thud.
But the real icing on the awkward cake, Haddock thought, was the fact that their lips were touching. Not for very long, but long enough to make things worse.
Thundering typhoons, his heart nearly burst out of his chest!
The two of them sat back up instantly, stricken both by embarrassment and shock. Reaching over, Haddock pulled the sheets tighter around his friend's shoulders; he thanked his lucky stars that he hadn't seen anything, but he certainly wasn't taking any chances, especially not now.
"I…" he began, "I think maybe you should go back to your room."
"W-what?"
Haddock was afraid to look in the boy's eyes. He could still feel the infuriating heat in his cheeks, and he knew they were red.
"What I'm trying to say is…oh blistering barnacles…" the captain paused to regain his composure. "I-I'm sorry, it's not you, and it's just… This feels wrong to me. And I don't know why," he began to explain. "But just having you, here, naked on my bed…"
Tintin let out a nervous chuckle, reaching to put a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. "You say that like it's something you should be ashamed of—"
"It is something I'm ashamed of!" Haddock snapped, sounding more like a defeated sob. "Tintin, you…you're a good friend to me—no, you're my best friend. And it's just that…when I see you like this, my throat gets dry, my hands get clammy, and my heart beats like I've just run a mile. Part of me feels weird about it like I should, but there's this tiny bit of me that enjoys it like a masochistic fool! A thousand thundering typhoons, you must think I'm such a jelly-bellied lout!"
The redhead didn't know quite what to say. He allowed his hand to rest on the quivering captain's shoulder.
"Captain, I'm not angry with you, and I certainly don't hate you for being honest with me," he began, swallowing the nervous lump in his throat.
"To be quite honest, this is a little out of my comfort zone," Tintin admitted, looking down upon his bed sheet-wrapped self, "but I don't mind doing it for you. I could easily just say 'it's because you're my friend,' but that's not it. Obviously I wouldn't expose myself so openly for the Thompsons, or for Calculus.
"But…I trust you. I've come to trust and care for you more than anyone else that I know. It's just…you've been so good to me—letting me stay at Marlinspike with you, accompanying me on my adventures, always being there for me when I need you most. I like having time together with you; I like just being with you."
Tintin held Haddock's chin in his hand so that they were looking each other in the eyes.
"And, I don't know, maybe I even…" he paused as a nervous smile crept up his lips, his own face turning a flushed pink. "…Maybe I'm in love with you."
At that moment, Captain Haddock had no idea whether he should be happy that Tintin felt the same way, or jealous that the very words that he choked back came out so easily for the boy. Was he dreaming? Surely, Tintin of all people wasn't going to fall in love with him. He broke their eye contact and fell silent, at a complete loss for words.
"Captain…are you alright?" Tintin suddenly shrank back, now finally realizing how awkward he has made this situation with his confession. "I-I'm sorry, I understand if you don't feel the same way. But please, at least look at me…"
Haddock could hear Tintin's voice start to crack as he spoke, and instantly felt terrible for keeping silent. You've been silent for far much too long, Archie, his conscious yelled at him. Say something before you break the poor lad's heart! It's sink or swim, now or never!
"Tintin, I…" he waited a second to get the boy's attention—and to get a chance to stifle his quickening heartbeat—and Tintin looked up at the captain with glistening eyes. "I've never really gotten the chance to tell you how much you mean to me. I wouldn't be where I am right now if it weren't for you; blistering barnacles, if it weren't for you tumbling through my window that night and taking me along with you, I'd have surely been a miserable drunkard for the rest of my life! A-and to be honest…you were the first person in a long time to have treated me like I'm actually worth something."
He shyly reached out for Tintin's hand, holding it tightly for reassurance. "The truth is, I've had feelings for you for…for a while, but like the coward I was, I kept pushing it back into my mind. I kept trying to tell myself that it would never work out, that you'd never have and old fool like me."
"Captain, of course I would," Tintin's hand squeezed Haddock's back as he said this, smiling again, "I couldn't stand to have anyone else but you."
Suddenly a rush of pleasant feelings rushed through the captain. If he was dreaming right now, he did not want to wake up. He finally found confidence now that his feelings had been reciprocated and pulled Tintin into a warm embrace. He smiled as he felt Tintin's arms wrap around him too, trying to return the hug as best as he could.
"I love you," he whispered into the boy's ear as he held him close. So what now? Haddock thought. Do I kiss him? Should I wait?
At that moment, it appeared that Tintin was reading the captain's mind, and gently pulled away to look up at him, leaning his head back in a little. Haddock slowly followed suit, his heart beating like crazy until, after long last, their lips touched.
The kissing felt a little awkward at first, starting out as a simple peck of the lips. They kissed a second, a third, a fourth time, and each time it felt better, more romantic, more…right. Haddock felt Tintin pull away to start nibbling on his lower lip, at one point taking a small bite too hard.
"Ack!" Haddock pulled away at the sudden pain in his lip. It wasn't deep enough to draw blood, but blistering barnacles, he certainly felt it.
"S-sorry!" Tintin immediately apologized, with a nervous chuckle and an impish smile on his lips. "I…I saw that in a movie once. You'll have to pardon my enthusiasm, I…I guess I got a little carried away."
Haddock chuckled back. "Don't mind it lad; I like your enthusiasm."
The captain wrapped an arm around the boy's blanketed shoulders and pulled him close again with a devious grin. "But allow me to show you what a real kiss is."
With that Haddock pressed his lips back to Tintin's and began to kiss a little more hungrily. His chaste little lover seemed initially confused, but got the hang of things soon enough and kissed with equaled passion. He's a fast learner, the captain thought to himself. As things began to become serious, Haddock slipped his tongue into Tintin's mouth, the younger man welcoming it with a small but satisfying moan.
As they continued, Haddock pulled Tintin's legs over his knees to where the boy was now sitting in his lap. Tintin, meanwhile, now had his arms wrapped around the captain's neck. They briefly pulled away again, a small string of saliva forming a bridge between their tongues. Tintin saw this and clamped one of his hands over his mouth, a tad embarrassed, causing the captain to laugh.
"Don't worry, that's supposed to happen," he reassured the boy with a grin and another kiss. You can tell this is really the first time he's done anything like this…
Haddock then scooped his lover into his arms and carried him back to the bed. The bed sheet that Tintin had been wearing slipped off as he was lifted and hit the floor, but neither of them paid it any mind. Nothing else mattered right now; it was just the two of them.
The captain thought this as he pressed Tintin into his bed, still kissing him quite feverishly. Hovering closely over the younger man, Haddock ran a hand across his chest, swerving it to trail down his spine, and down to the lad's buttocks. He savored in the small, muffled yelp he heard Tintin emit as his hand groped his backside, the redhead's back arching, now grinding against his captain with pleasure he had no idea he could feel.
Haddock could feel Tintin's length, now hard with arousal, jutting against his thigh as he began to peel off his sweater. He let Tintin's hands explore and feel his now bare chest, his soft but effective touch causing Haddock's own hardness to show. Tintin helped the captain with his pants, unbuttoning them with an ounce of eagerness and letting them get shoved by feet onto the floor. A pair of boxers soon followed.
Tintin gasped as he felt Haddock's cock poking hot his stomach. Suddenly realization of what just might happen sunk in and he froze in place. His lover noticed this and slowly backed off and gave him some room, looking at him with concern.
"Tintin, lad, is something wrong?" he asked, gently touching Tintin's face.
He could barely hear the young man murmur something as he tried to catch his breath.
"What's the matter?"
"Well," Tintin finally said with a sigh. "I think…I changed my mind."
Haddock was as surprised as he was confused. "'Changed your mind?' Changed your mind about what?"
"If…if it's all the same to you, I…I'd rather not…I mean, I don't think I'm ready for…" he trailed off, sighing again. "You're not mad are you?"
Haddock shook his head understandingly. He couldn't help but be a tiny bit disappointed, but he knew where Tintin was coming from. They had just confessed their love to each other, and he had to admit that this was going a touch fast. Mostly this news had caught him by surprise coming from Tintin, someone who was known for being adventurous and taking risks. But all the while, Haddock could not find it in himself to be cross with him, not truly.
And after all, this side to him was one that Haddock did not get to see very often, and he found it quite endearing.
"Don't sweat it," he finally replied, giving his worrying partner a reassuring grin and ruffling his hair. He settled down next to Tintin, looking at him with his chin propped up by the palm of his hand. "We don't need to do anything if you're not ready. I'd rather not force you to do anything you don't want."
"I'm sorry," Tintin apologized again sheepishly.
"Don't be! How about this: we'll take it slow, day by day. And if you change your mind about having sex, well, that'll be for you to decide. Does that sound good to you?" He finished this with another smile.
Tintin nodded contentedly, beaming tiredly as he wrapped an arm around the captain's chest. "Thank you."
Haddock pulled his young lover into a comforting embrace. "Don't mention it," he grinned, teasing Tintin with a peck on the forehead before the two of them drifted off to sleep.
Haddock licked his lips with determination as he nailed the final touches of his latest work. About time too, he thought. I've been working on this same picture for a week, thundering typhoons!
Tintin shuffled in the kitchen for a snack when he saw his boyfriend scribbling busily at the table and decided to join him. Grabbing an apple from the counter next to the fridge, he sat down next to Haddock.
"Finally, finished! Blistering barnacles, I thought I'd be stuck on this darned thing forever!" Haddock nearly shouted in triumph, taking a moment to stretch.
"Is it alright if I see?" Tintin scooted closer to the captain as he asked this.
"Oh alright," Haddock nudged the notebook over to Tintin to get a better look. "After all, couldn't have done it without you, Mr. Model."
The reporter's eyes lit up at the finished sketch of his likeness. "Captain, it's wonderful! It looks just like a photograph!"
"You like it?" Haddock chuckled, amused by his young lover's impressed state. "You can keep it if you'd like. We can even go pick out a frame for it tomorrow.
"Really? Thank you!" Tintin wrapped his arms around Haddock's neck and kissed his cheek. "I love it."
Captain Haddock wrapped his arms around Tintin's waist and pulled him in for a kiss on the lips. For him, it didn't matter how much better at art he got, or what he'd end up drawing. The real work of art was the young man in his arms, his boyfriend, his lover, his dearest friend…
His masterpiece.