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Not Quite Crayola
by Lau
Author's Note: Rating: PG, Dan's POV
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Imitation is the highest form of compliment.
I'd love for someone to draw what I've described. I'm a horrible artist, so it
certainly won't be me. PLEASE PLEASE PLEEEASE? *puppy dog eyes*
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I was bored. So bored. Bored, bored, bored bored. You wouldn't believe how bored I
was. After Darren wastes all his energy onstage, he's no good for post-concerto fun and
games, which leaves me in quite a hyper mood. Hence: bored.
I sighed and rummaged through my black duffle, trying to find something to hold my
attention for some amount of time. Out with the socks. A razor. Some shoelaces.
Water balloons. No, wait - condoms. I grinned and dug a little deeper. Bingo. I yanked
out a small box and eyed the white expanse of Darren that lay before me. He was passed
out spread eagle on the bed, face down.
The box is opened and I settle down lightly onto the mattress. No response from the
frontman, he is dead to the world. I pull out a silver crayon and roll it between my palms
to heat it. Darren had gotten me body crayons a few weeks ago in New York City, but I
hadn't had the chance to use them yet.
I began writing in big spiraly letters. "DIVA," I completed across his shoulder blades. I
filled in the letters with green and blue, which caused a haze below the print. From the
haze i sent red lined lightning bolts down to the dip in his back. His skin screamed with
electricity I imagined. He didn't wake.
Jade, magenta, midnight...they flew together to curl into a dragon that swam above the
DIVA lettering, the tongue licking round the "A" like fire on newspaper. The eyes of the
dragon glittered with silver and blue, just like Darren's. A starscape grew across his
lower back, Orion on the left and a scorpion on the right.
I set down the crayon with tinted fingers and picked up a new one. The clock supplied
my amazement; I couldn't believe Darren had stayed still for three hours. I couldn't
believe that *I'd* stayed still for three hours.
I frowned at Darren's black boxers and how in the way they were. Absentmindedly, I
fingered the black crayon I'd picked up, and brushed some blonde strands out of my eyes.
I repositioned myself to shift the bed less and worked the obtrusive material partly over
his slim hips. Just above the curves of his rear, I scrawled "Earthly Delights" in
deliberate sloppiness.
Grinning to myself while I cleaned up and took photos of my artwork, I figured it was
time to wake up darren. Crouching next to the bed near his pillows, I saw his eyelashes
twitch open.
"Done?" he asked, his voice sleepy and amused at the same time. I blinked away my
shock.
"You were awake the entire time?" I asked, almost hurt.
He shoved himself up on his elbows and tried to peer over his back. "No, only for about
an hour. How do I look?"
"Like the illustrated man." Indeed, his art seemed to glow to life as he moved. The
dragon rippled angrily as he sat up and stretched.
Taking my arm as he stood, he led me to the tiny bathroom we shared. "Let's have you
wash my back, okay VanGough?"
I pouted. "I'm not crazy."
"Sure you're not," he said, leaning up to kiss me. "And these are just crayolas."
-FIN-
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