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Covered Canvas	By : draconis17 Category: Web Comics > Boy Meets Boy Views: 2090 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Boy Meets Boy, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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A splash of blue, a stroke of red, and another blotch of yellow. Mix twice, and splatter onto the canvas. This was yet another work of the artist Mikhael. This particular pieces was going to be more modern art if anything, but even though it didn’t takeh woh work to fabricate, but it made up for it in what counts, money. Considering he was Russian that almost felt like an oxymoron, but since the collapse of the Soviet Union, it was all good. Enough of the small history lesson, he had to stop wavering. Yet more paint was added to the monstrosity, and he glanced at it through his eyes slowly. Brown hues blinking slightly, at the slew of colors before them.

The canvas was dripping, but that was part of the effect, red dripping and mixing into yellow, blue cascading with green, it seemed to be a moving picture, but unfortunately that would only last a short while. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched the paint dry slowly, whoever said this wasn’t fun had never really appreciated the paint as it stiffened to its permanent form. Mik released a contented sigh, as his work was complete. The easel stood alone in the center of the room, clear plastic covering the concrete floor of his studio.

The Russian turned slightly and stepped out of the bare walls and floor of his sanctuary into the lushly decorated apartment. Even though Harley was into punk and that was all well and good, Mikhael Rasputin refused to have at least some part of his abode lack some sort of taste. The white walls seemed to glow slightly in the morning light as it streamed through the windows. Slowly the larger man padded through the hallway, past the rudimentary vase Harley created at his short cam camp get away last year, past the kitchen where he had shared many meals either preparing a pot roast, or a can of soup.

The large frame slowly came upon the doorway to the bedroom when he entered and glanced at the guitar leaning against the corner. If he dared touch it he’d lose more then just his fingers. It wasn’t an inconvenience but yet it still added a creative flare to the otherwise ‘stylish’ room. The flame decals on the sleek black guitar reminded Mikhael of a fire or two he’d shared with his soul mate. Again this was besides the point as he continued his way past the large bed, past a slightly snoring Harley, onto the bathroom, where he de-robed and started his shower.

After he remained as quiet as possible he emerged soaking form the water and he grinned to himself at the devilish plan. He continued to grin on the approach, brown hair now laying flat upon his skull, still dripping from the quick burst of hot water. There was a slight murmur from the bed as Harley turned in his sleep, probably a bad dream, but it was about to get worse.

The tall figure went to the blinds and drew them all open quickly, morning’s light beaming through the transparent shielding of glass. The light hit the teen still sleeping and made him stir slightly, blond hair seeming to glow in its own radiance. A blue hue opened slightly to glance at the light now assaulting it. “Mrr…” The teen groaned, slightly as he went to move a second pillow over his face. Just one problem, the pillow wasn’t there anymore. “Why, lovely glad you’re awake. I just finished something you want to see.” The accent reverberated through the room and the other in bed just grumbled. “Time.” “It is early enough for the Sun.” The Russian replied, “So I thit’s t’s early enough for you.”

There was no reply from the blond in bed. “Go away, wake me up when the good morning shows are on.” The lithe frame wiggled in bed, pale skin contrasting with the black bed covers. “No, you’re getting up now.” He replied simply as he leaned over and dripped into the back of Harley. That elicited a slight shiver, but the voice was still the same. “Not going to work, Mik.” The grin had never left as the Russian smirked continually. “My next step is a bucket of water, of dragging you by your heels.” Harley groaned again, “You do that enough already.” There was a slight nod. “Or your guitar…” Both blue eyes snapped open and the blond sat up. “You wouldn’t.” He leered, eyes attempting to stop the larger man in his tracks.

Mikhael just looked up serious look on his face. “Lovely you have no idea what I am capable of.”
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