wickedwords | Fic: Starving Artists (Lorne/Parrish, AU, G)

Current Mood: silly

Title: Starving Artists
Author: Rachael Sabotini/

wickedwords
Other Info: AU, G, Evan Lorne/David Parrish, 1000 words
Summary: "Starving Artists' Sale! Original paintings from $5-$20."

Author's Notes:

elynross deserves a lot of thanks betaing this story and helping get the word count right. Written for both

workerb, who asked for a Lorne story, and the

picfor1000 image given here:

Starving Artists

"Hey, look at that!" Katie said. "Five bucks a painting."

"Hmm?" The rain on the Suburban's windshield nearly drowned her out completely, and the rest David ignored as he turned the wiper blades to high. He was used to ignoring her, even though technically she was his boss.

She tapped on her window. "See? In the gravel lot next to that apartment complex."

The light turned red, and David slowed to a stop, then looked up the street. Sure enough, in the pouring rain, there was a white rent-a-shelter with a bunch of paintings stashed underneath it and several hand-lettered signs proclaiming "Starving Artists' Sale! Original paintings from $5-$20."

"They can't be any good," he groaned as the light turned green and he swung into the right lane. "Or they'd be hanging in a gallery."

"Come on." Katie clucked her tongue at him. "My new office needs some color, so why not? Pull over."

David shook his head. "We'll be late."

"It's a plant sale. Like we need more plants." She gestured towards the back, where twenty-some cuttings were arranged in cheap plastic pots. "And who cares if we're an hour late? Other people were bringing plants, too, right?"

"Yes, but it's for a good cause."

"Your niece's Girl Scout troop?" She sounded dubious.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Yes."

"I'm sure your sister will forgive you if we're a little late." She gave him a determined glare.

"Okay, fine." With a heavy sigh, he pulled into the parking lot. Katie usually got her way. That was one of the things about working for her--she looked all pink and rosy and sweet, but underneath lay a spine of steel.

The gravel crunched under the tires as they found a parking spot not far from the tent. Katie skipped around the mud holes while David diligently locked the car. At least the rain had let up enough that they didn't get drenched.

Katie was in heaven. Spotting a pile of what looked like cat-and-fireplace pictures, she made a beeline for them, leaving David to negligently scan through the city landscapes.

"Like anything?" The man that stepped in close was stocky and well-built, and David guessed that he was maybe 5' 8" or 5' 9", with close-cropped brown hair and dark circles under his eyes. He had his hands stuffed into an orange parka that looked like it had seen better days, paired with cargo shorts and imitation Birkenstocks; David wondered again at the propensity for Northwestern men to wear shorts in February.

He also had one of the most infectious smiles that David had ever seen.

"Oh, uhm. I'm not really a cityscapes fan," David said, deciding not to mention that he wasn't looking for a painting at all. He let the canvas he'd been looking at fall back against the stack.

"What are you looking for, then?" The guy gave a little shrug that seemed to indicate the whole tent. "We've got a bit of everything."

"I don't know. Maybe..trees? Mountains? Actual landscapes?"

The guy frowned. "I got some stuff I painted up at a friend's cabin. Should be over here." He eased his way through the piles of paintings, to the end of the row. "Here you go. Take a look through these and see if there's anything that grabs ya." He re-piled some other paintings on the table across from where David stood, then leaned against the empty spot. "Don't worry about saying anything bad about them. Just know that the artist is standing right here listening to you."

David couldn't suppress a small smile. "How many artists are there?" he asked as he flipped through the first stack, and wow, did the quality vary widely.

"Not sure." The man shrugged. "My mom's watercolor's class, and some of their friends, mostly."

"Any of those classes held at the local senior center?"

"That's why we're the starving artists. You try making ends meet on social security." He gestured at the tent. "I told them we'd do better out here than at the senior center, with all of the crocheted dolls and decoupage elves that they try to sell, and so far, we seem to be doing okay. Better than last year's show."

One of the paintings he was flipping through caught David's attention. It showed an old cabin, complete with rusted tin roof and broken rocking chair on the front porch. There was something about it, the way the painter had caught the light, that brought an elegant stillness, full of potential, to the work.

David read the signature: Evan Lorne. "Is this yours?" he asked casually.

The guy grinned. "Yeah, it's mine. I'm working on my MFA, so hold onto it. It might be worth something someday."

David doubted it, but he was more interested in the artist than the painting."How much?"

"For you.." Evan looked straight at him. "Ten bucks, but only because you're cute."

David blushed, but held Evan's eyes for a moment.

Evan wrote up the sale and handed him a card. "Hey, take this. If you decide you want another painting, or, uh, dinner sometime, give me a ring. My schedule is pretty flexible."

David lifted his eyebrow as he looked Evan over. He liked the sound of that. "How do you know I'm not a serial killer stalking starving artists?

Evan shrugged. "You drove up in a Suburban with about fifty plants in the back. Somehow, that doesn't say 'serial killer' to me. More...soccer mom."

"Or whipped uncle." Katie clutched her painting in her hands and grinned at David. "Come on, don't we have to get those plants to your sister's place? You can chat this guy up some other time."

"Some other time?" Evan grinned at him.

David thought of the dubious wonders of a Girl Scout plant sale. "Maybe later today." With that vague promise, he dashed out after Katie, his thoughts so full of possibilities that he didn't notice when it started to rain.