Paint you by number : Tristan/Solange

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

Tristan had been very clear this morning when he told Solange they had plans after work. She was to wear clothes that she didn’t mind getting dirty and she had to keep an open mind. The whole car ride across the city, Tristan grinned. Every now and then, he’d look over at her, sitting in the passenger seat and try to read her expression. He hadn’t said it out loud – not yet, anyways – but he kind of preferred this dressed-down version of her. He’d never seen Solange in anything less dressed-up than business casual. Even when they’d run into each other in the club scene what felt like a million years ago, she’d looked totally put-together.

Not that she looked less than flawless now. Tristan had to force himself to look at the road, so they wouldn’t get into an accident. Even though they’d been going out for the last few weeks, Tristan sometimes had to check to make sure Solange was really still there, really still his girlfriend. It was heady, surreal.

The glitzy buildings of downtown Paris began to fade away as they neared their destination. The buildings on this side of town were markedly less glamorous than the side of town in which they both lived and worked. But Tristan felt at ease on this side of town. He spent enough time over here and, in fact, used to rent an apartment not too far from where they were going.

“Any guesses where we’re going yet?” he asked, looking at Solange again. He grinned. She was never going to guess what he had planned for them.

[blueeyeddevil]

Solange de Grace

She sat in the passenger's seat of Tristan's car, looking out the window and trying to figure out where it was he was taking her. She watched the elegant buildings start to fade away, replaced with graffitied structures that didn't look nearly as well kept as what she was use to, curiosity filling her. She had only ever been on this side of town a small handful of times back when she was a teenager looking for her next hit of drugs. She had long since left that life behind and hadn't been back here since.

She was interested to see what kind of date this was going to be. She was use to dates like the ones she and Caleb had. Unless it was just a vague 'hanging out with friends' it was usually a non-committal 'Whatever you want to do, babe'. So when Tristan had come up to her this morning with a big grin and told her to wear something she could get dirty and keep an open mind, it was a refreshing change to see that he had actually planned something interesting for the two of them to do.

So now she was dressed in baggy brown hoodie and torn up jeans, her hair in a ponytail and she was trying figure out where they were heading. She looked at Tristan, trying to see if anything in his face would give it away. She couldn't help smiling when she did. He looked really good in a suit but he he looked just as good in jeans and a tee shirt. Honestly she found it a little hard to believe that they'd only been dating a few weeks. It seemed like they'd been together much longer than that.

“Any guesses where we’re going yet?” he asked with a grin.

"I've been trying to figure it out all day," she admitted. She had been trying to think of things Tristan might come up with and one one things really fit. "The closest guess I can come up with is it has something to do with painting?"

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

He hadn’t given Solange any other hints; just little grins between services that said “I have a secret”. It was probably wrong, how giddy Tristan had been all day long, but he didn’t care. It was impossible to be unenthusiastic, since he was about to do two of his favorite things in the world: paint and spend time with Solange. He wondered if she’d guessed yet.

"I've been trying to figure it out all day," she admitted. "The closest guess I can come up with is it has something to do with painting?"

“Something like that,” Tristan said.

He reached over and put his hand on Solange’s knee lightly. It had only been a few weeks, but she could read him easier than anyone else he knew. Sometimes, he had to remind himself exactly why that was. Their transition to boyfriend and girlfriend hadn’t been totally smooth – it had taken a full day for them to realize that they were going out in the first place – but now that they were together, there was surprisingly little footwork left to do. They knew each other’s schedules, knew what things were definitely not okay to say, and knew how to make each other laugh. There were other things that would take some getting used to. Like being able to put his hand on her knee. Tristan didn’t know if that was okay, but it felt right.

Up ahead, the education center came into view. It was a small building and it looked more industrial than the surrounding apartments and businesses. Large windows gave them a clear view of the main lobby as they pulled up to the curb. Further back, unseen, were the classrooms, art studios, and music centers. The sign at the front, though, was peeling a little and it said “C nter for Artistic Ed ation”. Tristan parked the car and undid his seatbelt.

“I started coming here for community service hours after the first time I got caught tagging,” he told Solange, turning to face her. “But I haven’t been caught since and I still come back to help out when I can. The guy who runs it said we should have Room 203 all to ourselves. You’ve seen what I can do with a paintbrush; I wanna see what you can do.”

Tristan wasn’t sure if he believed in some flowery philosophy that said art was the window to the artist’s soul, but he knew that if that was true, then it didn’t matter if all Solange could paint were stick figures. They’d be beautiful.

[blueeyeddevil]

Solange de Grace

“Something like that,” Tristan said vaguely Well at least that was somewhat of an answer. She had a feeling that was all she was going to get and tried to just let herself be surprised. She smiled up him as he rested his hand on her knee, moving to let her own hand cover his, fingers curling around it. While there were certain things that helped to make their change into a couple go easier, there were still certain things they were trying to test the waters on. Then again it was things like that that made relationships interesting.

Tristan eventually pulled into the parking lot of a small building. The sign was missing a couple of letters but at one point had read "Center for Artistic Education". Still the place looked very open and friendly. There were wide windows that let sunlight into the lobby area which seemed comfortable and inviting. She could tell what it was, an art school of sorts, but she wondered what it was to Tristan.

They unbuckled the seatbelts and he turned to face her. “I started coming here for community service hours after the first time I got caught tagging,” he explained. “But I haven’t been caught since and I still come back to help out when I can. The guy who runs it said we should have Room 203 all to ourselves. You’ve seen what I can do with a paintbrush; I wanna see what you can do.”

Her eyes widened a bit. She had definitely seen what he could do with a paintbrush. She had seen it in the form of an incredibly beautiful mural of herself that had astounded her. Her boyfriend was quite talented while she, for all her Cambridge knowledge, had next to no artistic ability at all. But she supposed this wasn't about measuring talent, but about having fun and spending time together which she was certainly looking forward to.

"Just try not to be too disappointed, all right," she said with a laugh. "And by the way, I think its very sweet that you do volunteer work." She leaned up and placed a kiss to his lips before giving a quick smile and getting out of the car. "Let's go," she said called behind her as she did, shutting the car door behind her.

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

"Just try not to be too disappointed, all right," said Solange, laughing.

Tristan chuckled and gave her knee an affectionate squeeze. He didn’t know how to say it – not without sounding over-the-top – but Solange could never disappoint him. She hadn’t so far; just trying her hand at painting was enough for Tristan.

"And by the way,” she continued. “I think it’s very sweet that you do volunteer work."

Before Tristan had time to stammer that it wasn’t “sweet” because it had begun as a court order, before he could flush a furious fuchsia, Solange leaned over and planted a soft kiss to his lips that made him forget why he would have been embarrassed in the first place. Instead, he smiled over at her. “Sweet” was a good thing. He’d have to remember to be “sweet” more often.

He sat in the car a moment longer than Solange, reorganizing his thoughts and pulling the key from the ignition. It wasn’t until Solange called “Let’s go!” to him that Tristan got out of the car.

He took Solange’s hand and they walked into the building together. They walked to the front desk to ask for the key and while the security guard was picking through a giant key ring for number 203, a group of kids made their way through the lobby in a single file line. A few of them, Tristan recognized. A few of them recognized Tristan and waved.

And at the tail end of the line was Marius, dragging his feet as though he was being led to the gallows instead of to an art lesson. His dark hair flopped into his eyes and his shoulders slumped. Tristan’s chest constricted a little bit. Marius had probably had a rough night; rougher than any eleven year old should. Of all the kids Tristan volunteered with, he liked Marius the best. It was wrong to play favorites, but Tristan didn’t care about that part.

“Hey!” Tristan called to him with a grin. “They’re gonna leave you behind, kid!”

Marius looked up and grinned back. And then something caught his eye. He looked down and Tristan followed his gaze; it was trained on Solange’s hand. Which was still in Tristan’s.

“He said you weren’t his girlfriend,” Marius told her.

“Marius saw the mural first,” Tristan explained to Solange, apologetically. “Well, the rough draft, anyways. He’s my partner in crime here.”

Marius looked up at Solange’s face. He broke into a dazzling smile; something Tristan had never seen him do. Marius then said in as suave a voice as an eleven year old could muster, “You’re prettier than Tristan’s sketch of you.”

“Stop flirting with my girlfriend and go to class,” Tristan told him.

But it was true. She really was.

The security guard laughed and handed Tristan the key without a word.

[blueeyeddevil]

Solange de Grace

It really was true. She thought it was incredibly sweet of Tristan to volunteer his time to help out around here even when his sentence was long since over. There was just something very attractive about a guy who worked iwth kids. It was made even more attractive when once inside, a group of kids went strolling past in a line and several of them turned to wave to Tristan excitedly. It was obvious he had left a big impression on them. She noticed one of the little boys lagging behind a big with a grim expression.

“Hey!” Tristan called to him, smiling. “They’re gonna leave you behind, kid!”

Immediately the boy's face broke into a grin but he paused when he noticed the two of them holding hands. He studied it for a moment. “He said you weren’t his girlfriend,” he informed her, making a small smile flicker to her lips.

“Marius saw the mural first,” Tristan explained in an apologetic voice. He obviously wanted her to know that this was not a recent statement. “Well, the rough draft, anyways. He’s my partner in crime here.”

The boy, Marius, suddenly gave her a bright smile. “You’re prettier than Tristan’s sketch of you.” he told her in a charming little voice.

She grinned and gave a light laugh, folding her arms and fixing the boy with an amused look. "You are very charming," she said. "But I'm certain you say something like that to all the girls around here. You're just going to break my heart." Her voice was light and teasing as she smiled at the boy who turned beet red and grin.

“Stop flirting with my girlfriend and go to class,” Tristan and shooed him off. The boy laughed and went running to catch up with the rest of his class who had gone on ahead by now.

She smiled and shook her head. "I like him," she told Tristan who was getting the key from the guard. "He seems like a lot of fun."

She wrapped her arm around his and followed him to the room that had been set aside for the two of them to use. Inside were two easels with blank white paper on them and one long strip of paper hung on the wall, obviously for a more hands on (literally) approach to art. Paints with different colors were spread out on the table. Her eyes were wide as she studied the blank slate. "Oh wow...okay. Where do we start?" she asked, needing a little direction.

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

Tristan found himself awed by Solange’s reaction to Marius. Instead of being irritated or dismissive, she merely teased him back: firmly, but gently turning down his childish advances.

"You are very charming," she said. "But I'm certain you say something like that to all the girls around here. You're just going to break my heart."

This elicited a bigger smile from Marius than the one already in place. Tristan couldn’t help but smile appreciatively at her, too. He had never seen Solange interact with children; there’d never been a cause for her to. Usually when kids came through the funeral home, their parents dealt with them. A few times, they tried to pawn them off to Tristan, hoping that he could explain death to them, as if he had an insider’s view of the cosmos. But Solange was usually able to avoid being turned into a makeshift babysitter and tutor at work. Until now, he’d thought that was intentional.

Maybe not.

She had a natural gentleness with Marius that still had a sassy, Solange spark to it. Tristan twisted the key around in between his fingers. She was full of surprises, wasn’t she? He told Marius to go to class and watched as he scurried off to join the other students. Then he looked back at Solange.

"I like him. He seems like a lot of fun." " she said, causing Tristan to feel an irrational surge of proud affection for both her and for Marius.

He glanced over his shoulder to watch as the class rounded the corner and disappeared from view. A couple months ago, Marius hadn’t been a barrel of laughs, a walking bundle of charm. He’d been quiet, withdrawn, angry. Since joining the program, though, he’d been a happier kid. More recognizable as a kid.

“Yeah, he’s all right,” Tristan said, pocketing the key.

Solange wrapped her arm around his, warm against Tristan’s side. He’d always thought that if someone coiled up around him, he’d feel constricted, annoyed, stiff. And usually, he did. But with Solange, it felt comfortable and familiar. When they reached Room 203, Tristan unlocked the door and held it for her.

The air had the very distinct, chemical flavor of oil paints. Tristan knew what to expect without looking around – brushes of all sizes and shapes, canvases, easels, and the whole spectrum of visible color in tubes and on palates. So instead of looking around, he looked at Solange. Hey eyes went wider than Tristan had ever seen them, forcing her arched brows upwards. Either she was overwhelmed or pleased.

Or both.

Tristan hoped she was both.

"Oh wow...okay,” she said. “Where do we start?"

Tristan thought. Usually, when a student asked that question, he had some sort of answer for them. “Creativity starts with an organized workspace,” he’d said before, especially when a kid slammed down his or her backpack onto the work table and started making a mess of things. Other times, he’d said things like, “Well, what do you like to draw?” in hopes to draw a kid out of his or her shell. But this was Solange, not a kid. She hadn’t moodily thrown her stuff onto a table; she wasn’t recalcitrant and withdrawn.

And there was the distinct possibility that she genuinely had never picked up a paintbrush before in her life.

Tristan walked over to the table and picked up a charcoal colored pencil out of habit. He rolled it between his fingers, thinking.

“Usually, you start with a sketch,” he said, looking at the pencil, debating. “Then you paint the background, then the subject. But…”

He looked up at Solange with a self-deprecating, little smile. He made art sound so much more boring than it actually was. “That sounds like more work than fun.”

He set the pencil down with some reluctance; he was going to have to meet Solange half way on this one. Painting was a process; sometimes a long process, arduous. And today wasn’t about that. He turned back to the table and looked at the other supplies available: the brushes, the paints.

“Let’s try something different,” he said, cracking open a can of bright green paint. “You see that big, white banner up there? I’ve gotta stencil “Welcome Artists” on it for some guest-speakers next week. That’s also pretty boring. But…”

He plucked up a brush and dipped it in the paint until the tip was thoroughly coated and dripping. Then, trying to aim, he flicked the brush hard and spattered paint on the canvas.

“… Maybe we can make it look more interesting?” he looked over at Solange with raised brows and a smirk, hoping she’d get the idea. “I’m gonna grab us some smocks. Pick a color and grab a brush.”

[blueeyeddevil]

Solange de Grace

It was a little overwhelming to think of trying to fill these blank white spaces with anything worth putting there. Painting somehow just seemed so...permanent. What if she messed something up? There wasn't any way she could take it back! She looked to Tristan, hoping he would have some kind of advice as to how she was suppose to go about this.

“Usually, you start with a sketch,” he explained, spinning a pencil of some kind between his fingers. “Then you paint the background, then the subject. But…” he said with a small smile that made her laugh a little in return. “That sounds like more work than fun.”

He seemed to think on this for a moment, setting the pencil down. Instead he picked up a jar full of bright green paint. “Let’s try something different,” he said. “You see that big, white banner up there? I’ve gotta stencil “Welcome Artists” on it for some guest-speakers next week. That’s also pretty boring. But…” He took a dipped a brush into the pain, flicking it so it splattered over the banner. “… Maybe we can make it look more interesting?”

He smirked at her and she grinned back, nodding. "I think we can handle that," she said. She could certainly handle splattering paint on a banner. It was kind of hard to mess that up. She was starting to feel a little better now.

“I’m gonna grab us some smocks. Pick a color and grab a brush.” he said.

She turned and looked at the paints, choosing a canary yellow she thought would look good with the green and grabbing a brush. Tristan returned a moment later and she tied the smock he handed her into place. Then she set to work splattering the banner with yellow paint, laughing as she did and having a really good time.

"Hey, Tristan, what..." she turned to ask him a question, but was greeted not by her boyfriend's blue eyes, but by the green paintbrush he happened to be holding at at the right height. A green streak made it's way from her ear to her chin. She laughed in shock. "Oh you did not just do that," she said in playful warning. She took her own paint brush, flicking it at him and splattering him with the yellow paint, making her laugh mischievously.

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

Tristan handed a smock to Solange, clamping his paintbrush between his teeth so he could tie his own in the back. From the corner of his eye, he saw Solange flinging bright yellow paint at the blank canvas. She looked so happy, laughing to herself. He tried to smile, but the paintbrush got in the way. He took it in one hand and turned back to the jar of green paint to reload. He splattered paint on the banner, but every now and then, he would stop to debate whether he ought to switch colors, add some red or some blue. He held the paintbrush aloft.

"Hey, Tristan, what..." Solange said.

At the exact moment she turned, so did Tristan, paintbrush level with Solange’s face. It made a thick, green streak that stretched from her ear to her chin. Even though it had been an accident, Tristan didn’t apologize. Instead, he started to laugh.

“You look good in green,” he told her with as charming a smile as he could manage under the gales of laughter.

“Oh you did not just do that," Solange said, mock-sternly before splashing sunshine yellow across Tristan’s face. He laughed harder and reached over for a tube of red paint. He squeezed some onto the tip of his finger and ran it down the bridge of Solange’s nose.

“I think I did,” he said, lowering his voice to a challenging whisper.

[blueeyeddevil]

Solange de Grace

She was actually having a fun with this painting. Well, technically she didn't know if splattering paint all over a long white piece of banner paper could technically be considered painting. In any case, she was enjoying herself as she played with the bright yellow paint. She turned to ask Tristan a question and almost instantly forgot what it was when she was met a green paintbrush to the face, giving her a streak along her jaw in a sort of Native American war paint sort of way.

Tristan didn't even bother apologizing and simply laughed. “You look good in green,” he told her charming little grin.

She let out a playfully indignant 'you did not just do that' and retaliated with her own yellow paint. Both of them were laughing as he suddenly picked up a tubed full of red paint and putting some on his finger, smeared it down the bridge of her nose, causing her to let out a shocked little shriek between giggling.

“I think I did,” he whispered challengingly.

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Well you asked for it," she warned teasingly. She grabbed a jar of purple and dipped the palm of her hand in. Turning back to Tristan she reached up to place it to his cheek, giving him a large purple hand print on his face. She stood there for a moment, her clean hand covering her mouth as she laughed. A moment later she took off running, trying to escape his next retaliation.

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

Solange arched an eyebrow at Tristan, deepening his grin until dimples appeared on the sides of his mouth. This was the kind of trouble he didn’t mind being in. Especially when Solange was involved.

"Oh? Well you asked for it," she said and before Tristan could flinch out of the way, Solange pressed a purple palm to the side of his face.

He leaned against her hand a little, letting her cement her handprint on his face. And then with a shrill laugh, Solange darted to the other side of the art room. Tristan picked up the open can of green paint and ran after her; slime green sloshed out of the can and onto the floor, leaving a slick trail behind Tristan. When he caught up to her, Tristan heaved the can at Solange and a whole bunch of green paint poured out, dousing the backs of her legs and her backside. And then Tristan tossed the can aside, letting it skid across the table, so that he could scoop Solange up in his arms. They stood over by the sinks where there were buckets of sudsy water for rinsing, as well as squeeze bottles of other colors – blacks and whites and browns – lined up along the countertop.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, snaking one arm around her waist. “We aren’t anywhere close to done yet…”

[blueeyeddevil]

Solange de Grace

She would be hard pressed to remember the last time she had laughed this much. This full and giddy laughing felt really good. It felt good to simply go for once and just allow herself to be happy. Tristan had given that to her.

She could hear coming after her as she tore around the room, trying to avoid getting caught in his next move of their little paint war. She gave a surprised squeal as paint, cold and wet, landed on her, running down the back of her jeans. Still she kept running until he finally caught around the waist. She laughed even harder, hand moving to cover his own as tried to contain her giggling.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked playfully. “We aren’t anywhere close to done yet…”

She glanced around to see that they were over by a sink and several more basic colors lined the counters. She reached for one of the colors, her hand finding a light brown paint bottle. With a laugh she managed to twist her way out of his hold. Brandishing the squeeze bottle like a gun, she whirled around to face him, grinning and still laughing.

"You stay right there!" she commanded, still holding the bottle of paint like a weapon. "I'm warning you, don't come any closer! Stay where you are!"

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

Tristan’s laughter and Solange’s rose up into the air, colliding with each other, echoing around the mostly empty art room. Tristan wasn’t given to calling moments “perfect”, but this was one of those instances that he just wanted to fold up and put in his pocket to take out on those days when work got him down and life seemed worthless. Moments like this were worth living for. Solange was slippery with paint, squirming around in his arms, giggling and smiling. Her hand – still dripping with purple paint – reached out for Tristan’s. He looked down at their hands, smiling softly, and Solange took advantage of his distraction, wriggling away just long enough to grab a squeeze bottle filled with brown paint. She pointed it at him, brandishing it like a weapon, and grinned.

"You stay right there!" she said firmly. "I'm warning you, don't come any closer! Stay where you are!"

Tristan put his hands up as if surrendering and took a step back. He picked the bucket of green paint up off the table as he did. But he continued to inch backwards.

“Same goes for you,” he told her. “Keep pointing that thing at me and I’ll—“

He took a step back and his right foot landed in one of the paint puddles he’d made rushing after Solange. Tristan’s foot wooshed out from under him and the paint bucket swung out of his hand, soaring up into the air. Green paint flew in all directions, up, out towards Solange, and down on top of Tristan. He grabbed onto the table for balance; slipping and sliding, but staying upright. And somewhere behind him, the paint bucket rolled under another table. He looked over at Solange, blushing underneath the coats of purple and yellow and green that covered his face. She was just as drenched in green as he was. It dripped down her hair, her neck, on her clothes and on her skin.

“I told you you look good in green,” he said to her, really hoping she didn’t come after him with the brown paint now that he had lost his ammo.

[blueeyeddevil]

Solange de Grace

She held the squeeze bottle in front of her as if trying to fend off an attack. She was filthy, covered in paint, but at this point she couldn't have cared less. There was a part of her that worried about the two of them wasting art supplies like this. She was certain the school had limited funding as it was. She decided somewhere in the back of her mind that she'd make a contribution large enough to cover a few bottles of paint a couple of times over. For now she was having too much fun.

Tristan threw his hands up in the air in surrender, only to take a few steps back and grab the paint he'd thrown on the table a moment ago. She held her 'weapon' even higher in defense. “Same goes for you,” he warned her. “Keep pointing that thing at me and I’ll—“

He didn't get to finish his sentence. His feet suddenly slipped out from under him and while he stumbled to keep his balance, the green paint he'd been holding suddenly flew up and out of his hands. Paint went flying and completely drenched the both of them. She stood there, covered in green that was dripping all in her hair and down the back of her neck. Great...she was going to have green hair for a week now.

A mildly shocked sound escaped her lips as she wiped some of the paint from her face to keep it from getting in her eyes. “I told you you look good in green,” Tristan said, causing her to dangerous sort of laugh as she shook her head.

She flew at him with her tube of paint, knocking him off the precarious balance he had managed to gain. They tumbled to the floor and she landed on top of him. Using the upper hand, she straddled him and squeezed the paint bottle, pouring a little brown on him. But she used her hands to rub it in all over his face, laughing again as she did.

She smiled down at him, probably looking like some demented Christmas creation covered in red and green. Then she leaned down to press her lips to his, probably the only part of both of their faces not actually covered in paint.

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

Solange laughed and launched herself at Tristan. They collided and, aided by the slick puddles of paint, fell to the floor. Tristan looked up at Solange, who now straddled him and pinned him to the ground. She ran her paint covered hands over his face, which he playfully scrunched up. Solange had won their paint war and Tristan didn’t mind one bit. He couldn’t help but enjoy the view.

They smiled at one another when the laughter faded away. Solange leaned forward and kissed Tristan. He reached up and ran his fingers through her hair, which was beginning to clump together because of the paint. As the kiss deepened enthusiastically, Tristan’s hands slid down Solange’s back, leaving a faint trail of green palm- and finger-prints until his thumbs slid into her belt loops, holding her to him. It was only a matter of seconds before their breathing synced up and it was next to impossible to tell who was exhaling and who was inhaling.

Tristan’s pulse began to quicken; through the layers of paint and ruined clothing, he could feel Solange’s heartbeat fluttering around. His brain went foggy as instinct took over. He pressed kisses to Solange’s jaw and neck, sliding his leg against hers before they rolled over on the paint-slick floor.

And then the door creaked open.

Standing on the threshold of the door was another volunteer – Madame Dujardin, an elderly woman with eyes the size of hubcaps– and a couple twelve year olds who looked both mortified and fascinated. Tristan made eye contact with the other volunteer before realizing that he and Solange probably were the reason for the palpable awkwardness in the air.

“We’ll clean this up, I swear,” Tristan said hastily. “It’s… not what it looks like.”

But he made eye contact with Solange, sharing a secret sort of smile with her and Tristan knew that this was exactly what it looked like.