For Jess as part of her GGE 2015.
For Love In Motion.
Dean is lounging on his bed, a sketchbook in his lap and a pencil in his hands. He's about to draw something, anything when Seamus grabs his sketchbook and pencil.
"I wanna draw you like one of those French girls," Seamus says, a grin on his lips.
He groans, hating that he forced Seamus to watch the Titanic last summer. "I am not stripping," he says firmly.
Seamus flashes him puppy-dog eyes. "Come on, we're the only ones in the room!"
"We never know when they will be back!" Dean exclaims.
Seamus grins and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "We can always close the curtains and cast a silencing charm."
Dean shakes his head. "The answer is still no."
"You're no fun," he says, pouting.
Dean reaches for his sketchbook, but Seamus holds it out of reach. Dean raises his eyebrow.
"I'm still going to draw you," he says. "Just sit back and relax."
He sits against the headboard, folding his legs under himself and letting his arms rest in his lap. "Good?"
"I suppose."
"Come on, Shay, it's been hours!" Dean complains, shifting his position minutely. His body is stiff from sitting in the same position for an extended amount of time and he's dying to stretch.
"You take hours to draw," Seamus points out. He glances up and grins. "So you can sit still just a little longer."
While Seamus draws, Dean is free to stare openly at him. Seamus has his tongue poking out from his lips as he concentrates. He can't help but find it endearing.
Dean isn't sure how long he admires his boyfriend for, but finally Seamus puts down the pencil he's borrowing and holds the sketchbook to his chest. He stands and stretches, his body popping in several place. It feels so nice to move.
"Are you going to let me see?" Dean asks, raising his eyebrow.
Seamus shifts before letting the sketchbook fall to his lap. Dean picks it up. He has to hold in his laughter. It's the most ridiculous drawing he's ever seen. Seamus wasn't half bad drawing his face; it's recognizably a face, but it's debatable whether it's his face. It's the body that is the problem. It's nothing more than a stick figure body that is laying down.
"It's great," Dean says after a moment. He can't quite keep the laughter out of his tone.
Seamus snatches it back, his cheeks red with anger. "I'm not an artist like you are," he defends haughtily.
He's about to crumble it in his hands when Dean grabs it back. "What are you doing? I'm keeping this!"
"Why would you do that?" The anger coloring Seamus' cheeks fade, leaving just confusion.
Dean grins, holding the sketchbook close. "You drew it. Why wouldn't I keep it?"
"Because it's awful," Seamus answers, trying to grab the drawing. "There's no reason for you to keep it."
"Still, I'm going to keep it," Dean announces. He leans down and presses a kiss to the other boy's mouth. "Any time you want to practice drawing, I'll be happy to pose for you."
Seamus grins brightly. "So you're saying that you'll let me draw you like one of those French girls?"
"Maybe one day," Dean says, relenting, with a grin.
The other boy pulls him down for a very enthusiastic kiss.