"Congratulations Stiles." Lydia deadpans over the phone. "We sold that ridiculous oil painting of yours. Unbelievable."
Stiles grins, as he holds the phone with his shoulder, pouring acrylic paint out of a tin. "Told you Lyds. You should've never underestimated my market value."
"It was a cow. A pink cow. In a fucking muumuu. I think I've lost my faith in this market. Contemporary art has reached new levels of ridiculousness."
"Nonsense, that's not nearly as insane as Hirst's formaldehyde cows." Stiles walks over to his studio cart, grabbing a roller, staring down the massive stretched canvas in front of him. He has plans for this puppy. Plans involving a puppy, of the Dalmatian variety.
"No more animal paintings." Damn. It's like she can read his mind.
Stiles tosses the roller aside so he can hold out the phone, staring at it in accusation. "But it sold." He whines into the receiver.
"I want you to build a series." Lydia continues, no nonsense. "You'll need a stable body of work if we want to raise the value of your art. If you build your reputation on animal portraits, I'm dropping you from my gallery, no matter how much money you will bring in."
"But I can only paint animals." Stiles complains. "I get free models, Scott lets me paint the patients at his clinic."
"But a cow, Stiles, really?"
"I went along for a farm call." He explains, awe tingeing his voice as he recalls the moment. "She gave birth to a beautiful calf. It was biblical." Stiles says in awe. "She prolapsed, but you should've seen Scott, he just shoved that uterus back it. He's a miracle worker." His best friend is awesome.
"I swear, you paint another animal in a manger I'm going to shove a stiletto into your skull."
Stiles winces. "Geez, harsh Lyds."
"I'll wire you your share from the sale, go hire a model, or work in abstraction, just try something new. Okay?"
"Fiiiine." Stiles sighs, hanging up. He hates working with models. The last time the man was anything but professional, going so far as to climb in his lap. It was a traumatic experience to say the least. Abstraction, it is.
Stiles looks around his studio, rummaging around for inspiration of some kind, when suddenly he spots the hotplate he uses to heat fast food. Stiles hasn't worked with wax since school, he might as well see if he's still got it.
A few months later and Stiles' encaustic work is garnering attention, he's being interviewed in indie magazines galore, and once he got a memorable television spot on the morning news. The morning of he had to scramble around his shop hiding any work that looked even remotely phallic. There was a lot to hide.
Lydia is extremely pleased with him, and he is with himself. The animal portraits were always a failsafe, and Stiles is glad he's liberated from them, they were starting to feel overly kitsch.
Stiles is building up a great client base, there are many collectors inquiring after his work, and he's managed to raise the worth of his paintings up a few hundred dollars. Which means he finally can afford to pay for rent, food and the subscriptions to various porn sites, because while pornhub may be awesome, he likes his banging done in HD.
One site rapidly becomes his favourite. Hale studios. Stiles absolutely adores them and their diversity. They have everything he could ever want, and as a bisexual male, that's a lot. Everything from girl on girl, to boy on boy, and everything in between. Stiles is a very happy camper. They treat porn like nothing he's seen before. When they add plot, they really add plot. None of those two minute introductions that get left behind in favor of the fucking. You can really envision the struggles of the curly haired nymphomaniac pizza delivery boy as he pays his way through college, all the while thoroughly enjoying servicing his customers. They made a whole series of his misadventures. Stiles loves it.
However his favorite actor on the site, Derek Hale, doesn't star in videos with plot. His just go straight to the dicking, and he consistantly uploads a new video biweekly, to Stiles' viewing pleasure. Stiles absolutely loves those videos, they're so animalistic, and Hale seems so very into it, regardless if he's bottoming or topping. There's no wonder he one of the most popular actors on the site, no one could possibly think about grocery lists when filming with him.
One night, after a long day in the studio, he logs into the site, and notices the banner on the home page advertising Derek Hale's new video. Stiles readies himself in excitement, fetching his lube, before clicking on the link. This is going to be good.
The scene starts like how all of Derek Hale's videos do, with a shot of the couple (sometimes threesome) making out against a wall like it's their last night on earth. There's tongue, and teeth, and biting, and hot damn. This is going to be soo good. Stiles picks of the tube of lube, but before he can click it open the camera shifts just a bit and he sees something that makes him drop the lube, scrambling for the space bar, pausing the scene.
That's his painting.
That's one side of his painting visible in the frame. He would recognize that style anywhere; the brush strokes, and poured wax. He sold that exact piece a week ago.
Lydia is going to be so pissed his work is in gay porn. Stiles, on the other hand, is perfectly okay with it, porn is awesome and it shouldn't be such a taboo subject, but he figures Lydia might not agree with his sentiments, it all comes down to numbers for her. Stiles knows he has many heteronormative collectors who might not take so kindly to his work displayed beside two hot men fucking each other's brains out. Even if Stiles feels just a bit smug about the whole situation. His favourite porn star knows about his art, Stiles is fucking awesome.
In true Stiles fashion, he feels the need to brag. He calls up Scott, even though it's one in the morning.
Scott answers the phone, sleepy, words slurring. "Ello? Stiiiles Whaa?"
"Dude, so I was watching porn and-"
"Please. Pleeease tell me you didn't wake me up at this ungodly hour because you got another dildo stuck up your ass." Scott interrupts, incredulously. Stiles can hear Kira snoring away in the background. "I told you, helping you with that was a onetime deal. This time, go to the hospital."
"That was in highschool before I knew about the importance of flared bases. The American sexual education system truly is lacking."
"While I strongly agree with your political views, TMI, Stiles. TMI." Scott whines. "Now, I'm going to hang up unless you tell me what you want." He threatens.
"Wait, wait! Remember that new encaustic painting I showed you last week?"
Scott sighs. "Yeah, why?"
"Derek Hale is fucking a twink beside it."
"I'm sorry?" Scott asks, puzzled. He obviously has no idea who Derek Hale is, which makes perfect sense since Scott is straight as an arrow.
"Don't be, it's awesome." Stiles grins, staring at the paused video on the screen.
There's nothing but silence over the line for a few moments. "Yeaaaah, I'm going to hang up now."
"Sure, later dude. See you at brunch on Saturday." Stiles smiles, eyes tracing happily over his painting in true HD quality.
Scott makes a noncommittal noise, hanging up.
Stiles is awesome. And Derek Hale seems to agree because he does almost everything but fuck the twink on Stiles' painting. The work is always in the shot, the camera pans over it whenever it can, basically Hale treats it like it's an actor in the film, not just another prop. He even credits Stiles in the end, and he gasps when he sees his artistic pseudonym pop up on the screen.
Wow, Derek Hale has such a workplace crush on Stiles' art.
It inspires him.