#I eat oil paintings when museum guards aren’t looking

[soysauceartly]

New OCs just dropped (vampire that eats oil paintings and pissed off museum guard yaoi)

[taire-the-disaster-gay]

I GET TO GO TO THE ZOO SATURDAY

[middle-o-nowhere]

Soap would be the type of guy to wear the “I eat oil paintings when the guards aren’t looking” shirt to an art museum.

Simon practically begged him not to wear it, but secretly finds it absolutely hilarious.

John "starts talking loudly at the weapons museum about which types of explosives are his favorite and which aren't" MacTavish Simon "Tells him to shut the fuck up because security is giving him dirty looks" Riley

[terrible-incorrect-south-park]

Scott: Gonna b honest. A lot of hot ppl go to art museums. I’m one of them

Kenny: Im 2 ugly they won’t let me in

Kenny: That and my shirt that says “I eat oil paintings when the security guards aren’t looking”

[youreacowgirllikeme]

Thursday: Pictures

note:hello it’s me again with part four of 'A week with Chris', projecting my dreams onto the reader as usual. this one is a bit fluffier, enjoy

words: 1.1k

warnings: none

(Wednesday, 8:22 pm)

Hi there. Just wanted to tell you that I had a really great time today, I can’t believe we spent three hours in that coffee shop. But you should get some sleep, tomorrow we have to have an early start. Meet me at 8 at 1000 5th Avenue. Don’t worry, I’ll bring coffee. See you there, sleep well. CC

+++

(Thursday)

You were surprised that you woke up before your alarm the next morning, but it probably was because of the excitement about seeing Chris again soon. The time you had spent it the café after the show yesterday had been wonderful, you had talked for hours and by now, you were utterly fascinated by the man.

Again, you hadn’t googled the address Chris had sent you, but as you approached the huge building in the eerie morning light, you knew where you were headed, at least you hoped you were right with your suspicion.

“Good morning, sunshine.” A cheery voice greeted you from the steps of the Museum of Metropolitan Arts. Despite your morning fatigue, you felt your heart speed up as you laid eyes on Chris figure. As you approached him, you noticed he was humming something that sounded a lot like a song from the musical you saw yesterday.

“Chris, how are you doing this? It’s way too early to be so happy.” You whined, yanking the coffee cup out of his hands. “What are we even doing here? It’s not even open yet.”

“Technically, it isn’t, but its open for us.” He grinned, and you were suddenly wide awake, almost choking on your coffee.

“You booked The Met? For us?”

“Well, yes, for us and about ten other people who did the same. I remember you telling me how much you hate big crowds a while ago, so I thought this might be a good idea.” Chris replied, actually sounding a bit uncertain now.

“It’s a brilliant idea.” You beamed “Thank you so much, this is perfect. So much culture in two days, you’re spoiling me.”

You almost couldn’t believe it. He had really remembered that you told him this, even if it had just been a side remark several weeks ago. What was this man’s agenda? This wasn’t just some regular sight-seeing tour one was doing for a colleague.

A guide approached you, and you hastily emptied your coffee before heading inside the museum. It was a guided tour, but with enough free time to freely roam the various exhibition spaces of the museum.

You loved art, and they had several pieces on display you had always wanted to see in real life.

“Look at all those details.” You whispered to Chris as you were standing in front of a beautiful landscape painting. “It’s so peaceful and yet there’s this perceptible tension. You see the contrast between the wilderness on the left side of the river and the fields on the right? It has so much symbolic meaning.”

“I agree, its beautiful. You really know your way around art, don’t you?” Chris replied, looking impressed.

“I minored in art history in college. It has always been a passion of mine, so all this” you gestured around you “is like Christmas to me.”

“Aren’t you full of surprises.” Chris mumbled, and your heart fluttered at hearing the affectionate tone of his voice.

+++

The last room you visited was the one you had been waiting for.

“Bridge over the Lily Pond.” You whispered. “It’s one of my favorite works of art ever. Did you know that Monet did about 250 oil paintings of water lilies? He was obsessed with them.”

“I should take you to the Museum of Modern Art some time.” Chris replied, “They have another one of those there, but it’s much bigger, it takes in the whole room.”

Was he implying that there would be more days like this? Warmth filled your body at the thoughts of spending more time with Chris, apart from work. You were really trying not to get ahead of yourself with your feelings for the man, but he was making it really hard for you by being so thoughtful and sweet.

“I would love that. I’ve only ever seen photos of this painting, being here is like a dream come true. It’s gorgeous.” You swooned.

“Gorgeous, indeed.” Chris noted, and if your eyes hadn’t been so transfixed on the painting, you would have noticed that he was looking at you.

+++

When you exited the museum, the sun was already high in the sky and It was starting to get slightly warmer. Spring was definitely coming.

“How does brunch sound?” Chris asked. “I know a nice place close by.”

“Seems like you know all the nice places around here.” You joked “Brunch sounds great.”

+++

“Oh my god, they have waffles.” You exclaimed, trying to keep your voice as low as possible.

Chris chuckled. “Order whatever you want, my treat.”

Soon, you were stuffing your face with waffles loaded with chocolate chips and whipped cream.

“This is so good.” You almost moaned. “How could you pass up waffles for whatever you are having?” you pointed to Chris plate.

He was eating scrambled egg, fruit and some bread, way too boring in your opinion.

“Look, I am an old man, I have to stay healthy and in shape, or I won’t be able to run around with you much longer.” Chris sighted, taking another bite of his whole wheat toast.

“You carried me half a mile on Tuesday, but alright, eat your scrambled egg then, because I enjoy running around the city with you.” You laughed, looking him directly in the eyes. They really were a mesmerizing shade of blue.

+++

After brunch, you took a long stroll through Central Park, enjoying the beautiful weather. You forced Chris to take pictures of you in front of the Alice in Wonderland statue, Strawberry Fields and several other spots.

“People will think we’re the worst kind of tourists.” He grumbled after snapping what felt like the millionth picture of you.

“But I want a nice picture of me, just one.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N.” he muttered. “You look great in every single one of those.”

This caught you off guard, you weren’t used to compliments and getting one from Chris made you so flustered, you couldn’t think of a single intelligent reply. Instead, you turned away from him, starting to walk towards the nearby lake.

“Come on, I want to look at the ducks.” You called back, sincerely hoping he wouldn’t notice your flushed face.

+++

When you got back to your place later that afternoon, you spent almost half an hour looking at the only picture you had taken of Chris that day. He was looking at the sky, watching a plane that was flying rather low over Central Park, a small, unguarded smile on his face. You put away your phone with a heavy sight. This man had you wrapped around his finger after only three days, and you didn’t have a clue what to do about it.

to be continued…

[gardamyeet]

Jane: Gonna be honest. A lot of hot people go to art museums. I'm one of them Lydia: I’m too ugly they won't let me in Lydia: That and my shirt that says "I eat oil paintings when the security guards aren't looking"

[masterofmaagnetism]

Azriel: gonna be honest, a lot of hot people go to art museums. i'm one of them.

Oleander: i'm too ugly to be let in

Oleander: that, and my shirt that says "i eat oil paintings when the security guards aren't looking"

[byjove]

can’t wait to get my history degree and become a museum curator and wear “I eat oil paintings when the security guards aren’t looking” shirts everyday

[very-correct-kh]

Demyx: Gonna b honest. A lot of hot ppl go to art museums. I’m one of them

Axel: im 2 ugly they won’t let me in

Axel: that and my shirt that says “i eat oil paintings when security guards aren’t looking”

[starmakerdotcom]

museums

milo: only hot people are allowed in art museums

mj: i’m too ugly they won’t let me in

mj: that and i have a shirt that says “i eat oil paintings when security guards aren’t looking”

[dudeimintomonsterprom]

Brian: Gonna be honest. A lot of hot people go to art museums. I’m one of them.

Oz: I’m too ugly they won’t let me in.

Oz: That, and my shirt that says “I eat oil paintings when guards aren’t looking”.

[unknowncrashingthroughthewindow]

zen: gonna be honest. a lot of hot people go to art museums. i’m one of them

707: i’m too ugly they won’t let me in

707: that and my shirt that says “i eat oil paintings when security guards aren’t looking”

[batbrosbeforehoes]

Steph: Gonna be honest. A lot of hot people go to art museums. I'm one of them

Tim: I'm too ugly they wont let me in

Tim: That, and my shirt that says "I eat oil paintings when security guards aren't looking"

[kakuzuisabigidiotwholoveshidan]

A little sneek peak into the fifth chapter of Galatea, “Aporia”

“I can’t believe they let you in the museum wearing that,” Sasori chided, feigning exasperation but unable to hide his amusement.

Hidan tugged at the shirt in question. It read ‘I eat oil paintings when security guards aren’t looking’. 

“You made me wear one, so this is what you get,” he grinned, gently bumping his arm against Sasori’s and leaving it there.

The touch burned a hole through the fabric of his cardigan and scorched his skin.

“Sas, there’s a vanitas section! Let’s go memento some mori.”

“Mori is a verb, not a noun,” Sasori corrected, but Hidan did not seem to be interested in a lesson in properly translating Latin proverbs. Sasori couldn’t say he blamed him.

Mori – morior – mors – mortis. Mortality – such an ugly concept. Death and decay, demise and destruction. The dreaded dissolution of existence. Sasori did not see the appeal in reminiscing about these things. But Hidan seemed to enjoy them, so he decided to indulge him for a little while.

He paused before a still life depicting a table, overflowing with books, quilts and paper, a vase and a violin. His gaze wandered over flowers about to wilt, bubbles about to burst, citrus fruits, cut open, exposed, about to wither. An hourglass with the sand about to run out.

Reminders of death, immortalised. Sasori appreciated the irony. His eyes fell on the velvet sachet in muted scarlet, spilling riches, and his thoughts wandered to Kakuzu. Love flowered in his chest, unfolding its silky petals until it stood in full bloom.

With this tenderness still expanding in his chest, Sasori tore his eyes away from the painting to look around the gallery floor, searching for Hidan. His muse stood before a painting of dancing skeletons, watching intently. Sasori stepped beside him, arms only a heartbeat apart.

“What is it with you and skeletons?” he asked, amused.

Hidan shrugged half-heartedly. “I just think they’re neat,” he grinned.

~~~

This chapter will be uploaded in about a week, meanwhile you can go and read the first four here!

[glitch-in-the-code]

Actor! Mark: Gonna be honest, a lot of hot people go to art museums. I’m one of them

DA: I must be ugly, they won’t let me in

DA: That or my shirt that says ‘I eat oil paintings when the security guards aren’t looking’

[colorfulrainbowfire]

I eat oil paintings when security guards aren’t looking

Steve was in a weird mood. He’d woken up feeling like something big would happen today. And as a result, he spent the rest of the day in an anxious mood. Not even his Golden Retriever Cap could calm him down, and it was basically Cap’s job to calm him down. He sighed.

“Man, what the hell’s up with you today?” Asked Sam, his best friend and kind of impulse control.

“I don’t fucking know.” Mumbled Steve. “I’ve been in a weird mood the whole day. Like something big’s gonna happen today and I have no idea what!” Sam smiled encouragingly at him.

“Don’t worry too much about it. Sometimes our brain just does shit like that.” He put an arm around Steve’s shoulder. “How about we go to the Met and spend the rest of the day looking at your favorite paintings?” Steve smiled.

“That sounds awesome! Can we go right now? Pretty please!” Sam laughed.

“Sure we can buddy. I’m done for the day and I don’t have anything else planned.”

“Thanks Sam, you’re the best!”

 ――――――――

 An hour later they arrived at the Met. Sam smiled as he watched Steve skipping ahead. Steve was like an exited puppy when art was on his brain. He was laughing and making jokes without thinking about what other people thought of him. That was something that didn’t happen very often. His social anxiety was pretty bad, especially around strangers.

“C’mon Sammy, don’t lag behind! I wanna get inside and look at the paintings sometime today!” Sam laughed.

“I’m coming buddy. Not everybody’s as young as you are.” He said and slung an arm around Steve’s shoulder. Steve shrugged him off.

“Don’t make fun of my age, Wilson.” He said and cuffed Sam over the head. Sam smiled. “C’mon asshole, we really don’t have that much time till it closes and I wanna see at least five different paintings.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Mumbled Sam.

They both had an annual pass, so they got in without having to wait very long. They got some strange looks from the security guards but they ignored them. Steve mainly because he didn’t notice them, and Sam didn’t want to start a fight when Steve was already in a shitty mood.

But as soon as they stepped inside they got approached by a security guard. He was kinda scary looking with his black suit, his dark shoulder length hair, and the dark look in his eyes. Sam squinted and steered Steve in a different direction. Like fate was on their side for once, a large group of tourists stepped between them and the security guard. Sam took Steve’s hand in his and nearly ran into one of the exhibits.

“Sam, what the fuck are you doing?” asked Steve and wrenched his hand out of Sam’s.

“Sorry buddy! I think I saw my ex and I just really don’t wanna see them right now.” He lied, not looking at Steve’s face. He was really bad at lying, and both of them knew it.

“Uh huh. Sure. Just make some noise when you wanna tell me what’s really going on.” He said and started walking. Sam cringed. He hated lying to Steve, but that was definitely a situation where it was an appropriate reaction. As soon as Steve realized the security guy wanted to talk to them, it would be over.

They already got kicked out once because Steve couldn’t keep his mouth shut and just had to tell one of the guards that one of the artists on display was a racist asshole and their art didn’t deserve a place here. Now don’t get Sam wrong, he hated injustice as much as Steve did if not more, but that did not mean he felt the need to argue with a poor security guard that had no idea what the hell was going on. And if they got kicked out again it wouldn’t matter that Steve had a few pieces in one of the exhibits for new artistic talents. They wouldn’t be allowed in again, and this place was kind of a sanctuary for Steve even though he didn’t like to admit it.

Sam looked up. And froze. The security guard was standing next to Steve and was talking animatedly with him. Sam couldn’t see Steve’s face but his raised voice was not a good sign.

 ――――――――

 Steve was looking at one of the sculptures. It was an abstract piece that really captured his attention. It used a lot of different materials, but didn’t seem cheap or forced together.

Most of the time he preferred paintings and sketches, but every now and then he liked to sculpt, and he always appreciated well done sculptures.

“Umm, sir, I’m sorry to interrupt you, but we need to talk.” Steve flinched. He hadn’t realized somebody had stepped next to him. He looked up and saw a museum security guard with beautiful facial features and even more beautiful eyes.

“Umm…” he said eloquently and looked up at the guy. “Of course, what’s up?” The guy cleared his throat and looked awkwardly at Steve.

“I’m sorry sir, but you have to leave or change your clothes.” Steve frowned and looked down at himself. He was wearing a simple T-Shirt with a print, a flannel and his bisexual pin. He looked at the security guy.

“Do you have a problem with my pin? Do you have a problem with the fact that I’m bisexual?” he asked angrily. The guy shook his head.

“NO! I just meant—“

“Cause if you do, we’re gonna have a real big problem! I’m allowed to wear whatever the fuck I want!”

“NO, seriously that’s not what I meant. I mean yo-“

“Oh, I know exactly what you mean. Guys like you always think they get away with everything like you’re some sort of god and-“

“Steve, please don’t yell at the guards!” interrupted Sam, putting his hand on Steve’s shoulder in a hopefully calming manner.

“Sam, he said I had to leave because of my pin!”

“That’s not what I meant!” the guard said loudly. “I fucking meant your T-shirt. You can’t go to a museum with a shirt that has ‘I eat oil paintings when security guards aren’t looking’ written on it!” he gestured wildly at Steve’s shirt. Steve and Sam both looked down at Steve’s shirt and like the guard said, it had ‘I eat oil paintings when security guards aren’t looking’ written on it.

Steve slowly looked at Sam and the guard.

“Oops, I don’t remember picking that shirt. I thought I was wearing one with an inspirational quote or something.” He said and looked at them sheepishly. Sam sighed.

“Man, how can you do something that stupid? That’s basically the only shirt you can’t wear to an art museum!” he looked at the guard. “I am so sorry about all of this!” The guard smiled.

“It’s alright. That shirt put the whole security staff in a bit of a panic for a sec there. It was really amusing. I’ve never seen my boss this impressed but also weirded out by a single sentence.” He shook his head. “I still think it’s genius and I want one.” Steve smiled.

“Really? I didn’t piss you off with my rant? Which I’m very sorry about, by the way.”

“Nah, I’m bi myself and I know what it’s like with all of the prejudice and stuff. I’m glad you’re willing to stick up for it!” he said and smiled at Steve. Steve blushed.

“Thanks. It really gets hard sometimes but it’s worth it in the end. And I’m really sorry for the commotion I made. I really thought I was wearing a different shirt!” The guard laughed.

“It’s okay. You made all of us laugh there. It was great. The debate of ‘What the hell are we gonna do? We can’t just let him wander around unsupervised, but that’s not a good enough reason to send him home so…’. It was hilarious.” Steve ducked his head, smiling.

“At least you got a good laugh out of it.” He said. The guard smiled. “I’m Steve by the way. Steve Rogers.”

“James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky.” Said the guard. Steve laughed.

“What kind of name is Bucky?”

“One that I could maybe explain to you over a cup of tea or coffee? Like a date?” asked Bucky. Steve blushed and smiled.

“Sure, I would love that!” He put his hand out and Bucky took it. Together they walked to the exhibit exit, chatting.

Sam looked after them.

“What the hell just happened?” he asked himself. He shook his head and slowly walked after them. Steve so owed him. He lost at least 5 years of his life today.

-------------------------

I had a lot of fun writing this. I love prompts!

A big thank you to @lamellas who proof read this thing! Seriously i wouldn’t know what i would’ve done without you Zoe!!

Here’s the link to it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17070488