Like any other starving artist knew, coffee could be your best friend and your worst enemy all in one. On one hand, it kept me awake in that dreamy caffeine induced insanity where inspiration was bound to hit me sometime. On the other hand, I hadn't slept in two days and my hands were shaking too badly for me to even think about painting. Unfortunately, here I was - a prisoner to the steaming cup in my hand. I had come to this little cafe near my flat to people watch, engage in more slavish coffee-drinking and re-evaluate my life choices.

Yes, even I - the great Marco Bodt - creator of all things artistic and amazing was starting to have some doubts about this lifestyle. If I was less aware of the fact that I was going through an intense art block (but one that would surely pass) I would've almost said my parents were right. Maybe I wasn't cut out for being the emaciated, tortured painter type. Perhaps I'd be better off in an office, nine to five with a wife a kid and some stupid pet. Heavy thoughts for a twenty two year old on a Friday night, no?

And then I saw him.

Maybe it was the angry, arrogant way he held himself or his lean muscled body or the way his face seemed screwed into a permanent scowl (I could go on.). But suddenly, he was perfect. He was exactly what I had been looking for in a model. I glanced at my coffee, feeling a surge of courage and inspiration and took a large gulp, turning back to stare at the man.

He seemed to be about an inch or so shorter than me, with a two toned undercut. Blonde on top, darker brown on the bottom. He was currently glaring at his drink like it had personally offended him and it was the most beautiful thing I had ever witnessed in my mere 22 years. I hopped up, fuelled by my caffeinated state and rushed over to his table, almost spilling my drink on the way.

I excitedly slapped my hand down on the table, startling him into looking at me. "Alright, I know you don't know me and I probably look insane to you right now, but I'm an artist and you're gorgeous and will you model for me?!" The silence that followed was crushing. He stared at me, with a look that seemed to say I was as crazy as I felt. I stared right back at him, feeling somewhat discouraged and brought my coffee to my lips, about ready to apply for a job at the nearest office building when he finally spoke.

"Gorgeous?"

Of course. Of course THAT'S what he focused on. During my whole frenzied rant, he had to hone in on the fact that I slipped up and called him gorgeous. Great. I tried to play it off cool.

"Haha..well..yeah..you have a very...proportionate...face? Must be an artist thing..."

Indeed, I was the master of suaveness.

"Right. So...you want me to model for you?"

Ah, the sweet sound of victory rang in my ears.

"Well...if you don't want to, I TOTALLY understand, I mean this is weird and it's a boring job and-"

"I'll do it. "

Hook, line and sinker.

Of course, I totally planned that he would say yes all along. I wasn't at all nervous about pouncing on a stranger in a half-empty coffee shop with some ridiculous request. But he said yes! And hopefully he wasn't some psychopathic killer.

"Really? You'll actually do it?"

He nodded and stuck out his hand "I'm Jean, by the way." Internally, I was already sighing in a lovesick schoolgirl-ish way. Externally, I shook his hand and smiled "I'm Marco. Nice to meet you, Jean." Also, I may have held onto his hand for a little too long, but I couldn't help but stare into his perfect amber eyes.

No homo.

Actually, yes homo. Lots of homo. God, I'm so gay it's practically illegal. Of course, I would be entirely professional while painting him and definitely, definitely would not make him pose in the nude. Definitely, probably…maybe. Ugh. I shook myself out of my ridiculous thoughts and let go of his hand. This was probably a bad idea after all. I didn't even know if he was gay (not that it really mattered because I was not in this for a relationship).

"So...how does this work, exactly? I've never modeled for someone before."

Ah yes, professionalism. I sat down, putting on my 'serious artist' face.

"Well basically, you come to my place or I go to yours…I'm too poor for a studio… and I pretty much do what I want with you."

I smiled, and then faltered, seeing his leery look.

"I- Uh…not like that! Like… I tell you how to pose and stuff like that and we sit for a long time while I paint you. It'll probably take a few months, if I give myself proper time to sketch you out and find the right colours and stuff…"

Jean nodded slowly, taking in all this information. I sighed softly, already thinking of how I'd like him to pose, in my studio/apartment. My place wasn't so bad, really. Sure, it was run-down and cold and extremely messy, but I had ample space for my art. For a shitty temporary loft, it was damn good. Jean returned back to the present and watched me carefully.

"So are we starting tonight?"

He seemed a bit distrusting of me, but we would work on that. Working together for months would definitely bring us closer, and I'd just have to improvise a bit until then.

"Don't you have anyone you need to talk to before you go off with a stranger?" I chuckled "Like a girlfriend, or roommate or something? It is getting kinda late…"

Jean shrugged a little "Eh, not really. My roomie's being a dick and I don't got a girlfriend. As long as we go to your place, I'm fine. Unless it's too late to start?"

I checked my watch, seeing it was quarter to eleven. It couldn't hurt, seeing as I was already hyped up on too much coffee. Three days without sleep wasn't that bad, was it? Nah. I smiled behind my coffee cup, watching Jean. "I think it would be perfectly fine if we started tonight. Do you have a car? My apartment's only a block away, and I just usually walk here."

A/N: Mikey's back, with something a teeny bit different this time. I'm enjoying this artist AU thing and I already have plans for the next chapter! I hope you enjoyed this and thank you always to tumblr user allexche who inspired me with her art.