fic: RPS: In All Things, An Artist (1/1)
Title: In All Things, An Artist
Author: Havenward
Fandom: Kane RPS (steampunk au)
Pairing: Chris/Steve
Rating: PG13
Words: 687
Note: raggedy_edge found these images, and asked so very nicely for a steampunk!version of Carlson. But I couldn't very well leave him all alone, could I? Hope you enjoy it darlin'...
Summary: Christian can't help but watch Master Carlson as he works.
Christian watches him sometimes. Watches his hands. Christian is, himself, a jack of all trades - he has been a troupe actor, a body guard, he has worked the ballasts of several steam ships and even, once, he was a chef. But Steven... Steven is an artist in all things.
Christian has only had the pleasure of sharing a meal with him once, when Master Carlson offered him a space under his shop front awning to get out of the rain. It was divine, even when Christian had long ago given up on thought or hope of any such being. He has seen Steven's paintings, here and there and in his shop. Both Lord Hutton and Master Morgan have several, and they are nothing short of inspired. But his music..... His music is magic.
Steven has the voice of an angel, beautiful enough to make the stars weep. It seems the man can play any instrument he lays his hands on, and bend it to his will. Christian envies him that; he can sing, and play a little guitar, at least enough to please a crowd. But not like this. Not like this. And most times, Steven prefers his own instruments. He's been gifted with several, some from Madam Ferris, others from the Duchess Riesgraff, a few more even from the inseparable bachelors from America, Ackles and Padalecki. But even these are not enough, if Master Carlson has his choice.
He is not a fabricator, per say. Not in the traditional sense. But leave him with the best woods, with brass and copper and silver, with steel and silk and catgut, and again, the man is magic. His hands moving over the material, shaping it. Bending it again to his will, tuning it until at last, at last. An instrument of beauty and song.
Steven glances up, almost finished with his work, and smiles at him. Christian swallows and nods, and looks away, embarrassed to be caught staring. He should know better, with no class, no rank, no money to speak of. He's only paying his way now by working in Master Morgan's distillery. It's good work, albeit mostly heavy lifting and offering no position. Christian would be gone already, if not for the fact that Jeffery is a good man. And that Steven's shop is across the street.
It's foolish, after all, to even hope... He should just finish his smoke, and head back to work. But Christian can't help himself, and he looks up again. Steven is gone. He can't help the flush of disappointment, the sigh of frustration as he turns to stub out his smoke and head back in. There will be another shipment arriving in the back, and the casks won't carry themselves.
He turns, and all but knocks Master Carlson over. "Oh, I... I'm sorry. I didn't... Didn't know you were... I..."
Steven smiles, laughs a little. Christian wonders if he's imagining the pink tinge to his cheeks. "Quite alright. It's just... I wanted to give you this. If you're interested, that is. Master Morgan insists you're a skillful player." He holds out a hardened leather guitar case with a strong strap gilded and embossed artfully with designs he's only seen in Steven's paintings.
"He... I... No, I'm not... I mean, it's perfect, but I'm not half so good as all that... as you are." Christian ducks his head as he feels his cheeks burning. Steven only laughs again, still holding the guitar out. "Thank you," he says quietly.
"You'll have to let me listen sometime," Steven says. Christian looks up at him, he can't help it, and eyes as blue as the sky hold his with a twinkle of amusement and something else. The pink in his cheeks has darkened.
"Of course." The words tumble out of his mouth without thinking about them. Before he can consider taking them back, Master Carlson's face splits into a grin so bright Christian would have to break his own heart just to say the words.
"Mister Kane!" Master Morgan's voice booms from the back of his shop.
"Until then," Steven says, clasping his shoulder for just a moment before heading back to his own work.
Author: Havenward
Fandom: Kane RPS (steampunk au)
Pairing: Chris/Steve
Rating: PG13
Words: 687
Note: raggedy_edge found these images, and asked so very nicely for a steampunk!version of Carlson. But I couldn't very well leave him all alone, could I? Hope you enjoy it darlin'...
Summary: Christian can't help but watch Master Carlson as he works.
Christian watches him sometimes. Watches his hands. Christian is, himself, a jack of all trades - he has been a troupe actor, a body guard, he has worked the ballasts of several steam ships and even, once, he was a chef. But Steven... Steven is an artist in all things.
Christian has only had the pleasure of sharing a meal with him once, when Master Carlson offered him a space under his shop front awning to get out of the rain. It was divine, even when Christian had long ago given up on thought or hope of any such being. He has seen Steven's paintings, here and there and in his shop. Both Lord Hutton and Master Morgan have several, and they are nothing short of inspired. But his music..... His music is magic.
Steven has the voice of an angel, beautiful enough to make the stars weep. It seems the man can play any instrument he lays his hands on, and bend it to his will. Christian envies him that; he can sing, and play a little guitar, at least enough to please a crowd. But not like this. Not like this. And most times, Steven prefers his own instruments. He's been gifted with several, some from Madam Ferris, others from the Duchess Riesgraff, a few more even from the inseparable bachelors from America, Ackles and Padalecki. But even these are not enough, if Master Carlson has his choice.
He is not a fabricator, per say. Not in the traditional sense. But leave him with the best woods, with brass and copper and silver, with steel and silk and catgut, and again, the man is magic. His hands moving over the material, shaping it. Bending it again to his will, tuning it until at last, at last. An instrument of beauty and song.
Steven glances up, almost finished with his work, and smiles at him. Christian swallows and nods, and looks away, embarrassed to be caught staring. He should know better, with no class, no rank, no money to speak of. He's only paying his way now by working in Master Morgan's distillery. It's good work, albeit mostly heavy lifting and offering no position. Christian would be gone already, if not for the fact that Jeffery is a good man. And that Steven's shop is across the street.
It's foolish, after all, to even hope... He should just finish his smoke, and head back to work. But Christian can't help himself, and he looks up again. Steven is gone. He can't help the flush of disappointment, the sigh of frustration as he turns to stub out his smoke and head back in. There will be another shipment arriving in the back, and the casks won't carry themselves.
He turns, and all but knocks Master Carlson over. "Oh, I... I'm sorry. I didn't... Didn't know you were... I..."
Steven smiles, laughs a little. Christian wonders if he's imagining the pink tinge to his cheeks. "Quite alright. It's just... I wanted to give you this. If you're interested, that is. Master Morgan insists you're a skillful player." He holds out a hardened leather guitar case with a strong strap gilded and embossed artfully with designs he's only seen in Steven's paintings.
"He... I... No, I'm not... I mean, it's perfect, but I'm not half so good as all that... as you are." Christian ducks his head as he feels his cheeks burning. Steven only laughs again, still holding the guitar out. "Thank you," he says quietly.
"You'll have to let me listen sometime," Steven says. Christian looks up at him, he can't help it, and eyes as blue as the sky hold his with a twinkle of amusement and something else. The pink in his cheeks has darkened.
"Of course." The words tumble out of his mouth without thinking about them. Before he can consider taking them back, Master Carlson's face splits into a grin so bright Christian would have to break his own heart just to say the words.
"Mister Kane!" Master Morgan's voice booms from the back of his shop.
"Until then," Steven says, clasping his shoulder for just a moment before heading back to his own work.