Viktor & Theodore - Painting (Patreon)

“This is quite possibly the worst idea you’ve ever had for a date,” Viktor sighs, staring down at the paint.

“Or the best,” Theo smirks.

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s the worst.” The draca sighs, “I guess if we get paint on the couch, it’s not my dorm.”

“You’re being fussy,” Theo accuses, “Look, we’re gonna have a great time. Here, I’ll even start.”

You bite back a laugh as Theo dips his paintbrush in the blue and spreads it across the entire top half of the small canvas.

“What’s that supposed to be?” Viktor’s brows furrow.

“I think it’s the sky,” You answer, taking the painting from Theo, “And I guess I’ll paint the ground.”

You take the dark green, spreading it over the bottom of the canvas until it meets the blue in the middle.

When Theo had suggested a joint painting session as a date, you weren’t sure how it would go. Vik is controlling when it comes to his art; he’s painfully picky with his pottery and the subsequent glazing and painting of it. Theo, on the other hand, lives to annoy him. You weren’t sure how those two things would mesh, but you had some ideas.

“Well, at least we’re better than preschoolers.” Viktor says, accepting the canvas as you pass it to him, “There’s no white space in the middle. Good job, kids.”

“Oh, stuff it. I’m an artist.” Theo gestures at himself in a grand motion.

“You’re majoring in arcitecture,” You correct.

“Which,” Viktor gestures vaguely with his paintbrush, “Terrifying, for the record. I’m never stepping foot in a building you design.”

“Architecture is a form of art!” Theo protests, “I have to make the buildings pretty and functional. But if you’re so good, great artist, whatever will you add?”

Vik chuckles slightly, taking the yellow paint and drawing the wobbliest circle ever in the top corner. Just like an elementary school painting that doesn’t quite understand where the sun should be.

“What were you saying earlier about preschoolers painting?” You ask, grinning at the sheer outrage on Theo’s face.

“Alright then,” The cambion narrows his eyes in concentration, “I’ll make flowers.”

“Okay,” You mutter as he makes some pink squiggles in the green, “This is just bad on purpose at this point.”

When you take the painting, you add in some orange lines coming from the sun so they look like rays of light. Viktor then adds birds, though they just look like black v shapes on the blue background.

“This has got to be the most childish looking painting ever,” Theo laughs loudly when he takes it back, “And it was made by adults! Do you think your mom would hang it up if we ask?”

Viktor pulls out his phone with a grin, “Let’s find out.”

He snaps a picture of the so-called painting; it looks like something that belongs on the wall of an elementary school art teacher’s room. It definitely does not look like it was made by three university freshmen.

It only takes seconds before Viktor’s phone dings with a response.

“She said she’d love to,” Vik scoffs in amusement, “God, mom. I think she’s trying to send my dad into cardiac arrest sometimes.”

“No, I think your dad would actually hang it up.” You disagree, imagining Mr. Orlov’s stoic face as he accepts this mess, “Like, pride of place. Right above the mantel.”

“Not a chance.” Viktor shakes his head, “Not in a million years.”

“I’ll bet you your mom’s chocolate chip cookies on it.” You counter, “If I win, I get your share next time she visits.”

“And I get yours if he treats you like you’ve gone clinicly insane.” Viktor responds dryly.

“Oh, wait, I want in on this.” Theo butts in, “I’m definitely with Vik though. Sorry, sunshine, but Mr. Orlov looks like he scares puppies on a good day.”

You shake your head, smirking as you open Mr. Orlov’s messages and send him a photo.

Hey dad, I made this for you. It’s kind of bad, but I tried.

“Cheating,” Viktor immediately accuses, “You’re cheating! You can’t call him dad when you show him, that’s so unfair.”

The response is nearly immediate.

It’s not so bad, solnyshko. We can put it up in the living room.

“Told you so,” You say, more than a little smug.

The next Christmas, the first one with the three of you as an official couple, you walk into the living room and find that stupid painting right above the fireplace. There it remains, holiday after holiday, and Mikhail staunchly refuses to move it despite you giving him permission. It is kind of bad, you try to persuade. He gruffly refutes you, making his wife giggle in the kitchen at his brusque form of affection.

At least you enjoyed the abundance of cookies. Though, after a couple days, you took pity on the two and allowed them to have some as well. You’re nothing if not a gracious winner, after all.