Private It ain't the Sistine, but it'll do

Dorian was nervous, to say the least. He had started the painting almost as a joke, intending to paint over it sometime later. But then inspiration had hit, one thing had led to another, and now he was sitting in his garage waiting on Paprika to show up with Signore so he could show off his dumbass painting and feed the two of them barbecue.

The garage was clean... ish. It had been about five in the morning when he'd suddenly woken up, realizing that his personal studio was an absolute mess that no one else could navigate. He had worked as quietly as he could, but he did end up waking up a few family members in his mad dash to clean everything. But at long last, you could walk through the garage without kicking an empty can of spray paint or bumping into a canvas.

Dorian, for his part, was showered and in fresh clothes, his hair still a bit damp as he put some hing touches on arranging the workbench. He'd been running the phrase 'don't freak out' on repeat in his head all day. But no matter how much he cleaned and organized his space, he was starting to freak out a little bit.

His mother was the one to answer the door when Paprika arrived, leading him down a hallway in the house - consequently letting him smell the brisket smoking in the kitchen - to the door that connected the garage. Dorian was in there, smoothing down his hair and trying to look casual next to a sheet-covered canvas and a small track can of old brushes and spray paint he'd accidentally knocked over while trying to move it out if the way.

"Heeeeeeeeeeey, Paprika. Buddy. Howhowhow, ah how are you?"

Paprika looked great. That was the second thought that ran through Doeian's mind. The first was embarrassment at the thumbs up and wink that she gave him as she told the boys she'd leave them to their own devices. He really hoped that Paprika hadn't seen that.

"Ah, yeah it's great to see you. You look really nice. I mean you always look nice. Just today especially in... uh.." Dorian trailed off, unsure where he was going with that. "The lighting, ya know? It's always kinda dim in the Raven and here I can see you a lot better." Yes, good save Blake. Good save.

He looked back at the tarp and nodded once. "Right though. The painting. I had to get a lot more references for some of the stuff but uh..."

Dorian pulled the cloth off, revealing the painting it hid. It was, as it had been before, a parody of The Creation of Adam, but with a pair of raccoons. What was obvious now that hadn't been in the photo of the early work in progress was that the background was also altered. Everything was food. Fruits and vegetables, cooked meats and breads, and pasta. And there, between the extended fingers of the two raccoons, was a cooked oyster with the shell popped open.

Dorian waved his hand meekly, showing the painting off. "Tada?"

"I'm so glad. I don't really have anywhere to hang it in the house so..." Dorian said, letting out the breath he'd held while Paprika inspected the painting. His smile was infectious, and Dorian felt the corners of his own mouth creeping upwards. "But uh, yeah. Yeah. This is my workshop. Or, I mean. It's a garage. But I did some spray painting out here and the rest of the pack has just kinda steered clear. So I've got my own little fortress of solitude, I guess."

The space was nothing fancy, just a garage with art supplies sorted haphazardly around. A fire extinguisher, which was a little out of place. Dorian's attention however eventually fell to the basket in Paprika's hand. "Whatcha got there?"

Despite having asked, Dorian already knew what was in the basket. He'd learned a long time ago that it was rude and weird to go around just broadcasting his heightened sense of smell. But those biscuits were like heaven wafting out of the basket and he couldn't help but bring attention to them. "Well it all smells fantastic. You want me to take that off your hands? We can go set em in the kitchen and see where Ma is with the cooking. We can always come back to the painting later."

He hardly seemed to notice that he was slipping more into his Midwestern folksy accent as he moved to help Paprika with the basket and lead him back through the house and into the kitchen. Marcus, one of his cousins, growled at the two of them from his kitchen counter perch, but a quick glare and a tilt of Dorian's head towards the door sent him packing. Some benefits to being the Alpha, he reminded himself.

The kitchen wasn't much; probably nowhere near as fancy as what Paprika might have been used to. But it did have one key feature: a large smoker built into the wall so its chimney could vent outside. And from this smoker billowed the smell of hickory wood and cooking meat. "That was Marcus," Dorian said quietly to Paprika. "He's kind of a, uh, an asshole. If he gives you any trouble ever, just let me know, yeah?"

Dorian blushed a bit at the compliment, brushing his hair out of his face as his mother returned to the kitchen from elsewhere in the house. She hugged both of the boys, making no real distinction between her son or his new friend in her affection. "Well there she is. You can ask whatever you want. Ma, Paprika brought biscuits and some broth to have with the brisket. He's a fancy restaurant chef, so I thought you two might get along."

Dorian stood back and let his mother and Paprika talk shop about cooking for however long they wanted, sneaking a biscuit in the meanwhile. He was listening, but he also knew very little about cooking so he knew there wouldn't be much that he could contribute. That was until his mother's questions started to turn away from cooking and more towards how nice it was that Dorian had met such a charming young man like Paprika.

Thoroughly embarrassed, Dorian whined and buried his face in his hand. If he'd had wolf ears, they would have been flat against his head.