#jesserick

[corner-stories]

what the funk?

Todd Rice. Jesse Chambers. Rick Tyler. Damon Matthews. Brunch. Double Dates. Babies. Dramatic DMs. 1407 words. (ao3.)

Todd Rice was smiling from ear to ear. 

Which to the blond attorney sitting across the restaurant table was a common occurrence, but to the couple joining them for brunch was certainly not. 

Nonetheless, Jesse and Rick were happy to see that bringing their infant son on a double date was a fantastically good idea. 

As Todd held Johnny Tyler on his lap and cooed over the little one’s every action, Jesse sat beside the pair and couldn’t wipe the grin from her face. It was always nice to see which JSAers got along well with her son, doubly so if both parties seemed to adore one another. 

On the table was a spread of food fitting for a group of yuppie twenty-somethings in New York — eggs benedict, smoked bacon, everything bagels, and enough avocado slices to justify the hefty price tag. 

And on the other side of said table sat Damon and Rick — i.e the other brunch participants who could only watch as Todd poured all of his attention to the baby on his lap. 

“Well, Todd, you did always have a thing for blonds…” Damon quipped. 

Todd shot his boyfriend a brassy look as a smirking Damon poured cream into his coffee. 

Fortunately, little Johnny hadn’t much time in his life for petty comments. Instead, his priority had become the contents on the table in front of him. Todd and Jesse watched in amusement as Johnny reached his tiny hands outwards and grasped his stubby fingers around the first thing he could find. Hopefully Todd wouldn’t mind the boy stealing the remains of his bagel. 

Curiously, Johnny wasted no time in taking the object and learning more about it in the only way he could — by stuffing it into his mouth and pressing his gums against it.

Todd remained playful as he gently pried the morsel away from the little guy. “Careful, buddy, you don’t have enough teeth for that yet.” 

Jesse nodded along. “Yeah, we’ll work on it later.” Smartly, she found a different piece of food on the table — one that Johnny was more accustomed to eating — and quickly placed it into his hand. 

Despite the dull look in his baby blues, Johnny had no complaints about being handed a strawberry slice and lifted it up into his mouth. 

Just as Johnny did so, Rick looked up from his meal and reacted the way that most fathers did when their child did something adorable. 

“Oh, hold up, I gotta get this!” the Man of the Hour said in a lively, excited tone. 

From his pocket Rick pulled out his smartphone and held it up. Recording little Johnny eating a strawberry while sitting on Uncle Todd’s lap was too good of a photo op to miss. 

The second Todd saw Rick documenting the scene for future generations to see, he grinned. He just couldn’t find it in him to spoil the joy of a father who wanted to remember every good memory of his son’s upbringing. 

Instead, Todd let the moment be recorded and even gave Rick’s camera a cheeky grin.

Once the short clip was recorded, Rick gave it a quick look over before glancing at Todd. 

“Mind if I post this?” he asked. “My mom likes to see… everything, basically.” 

Todd nodded. “Go ahead.”

Rick went ahead with his request as the remaining brunch attendees continued to enjoy their meals. 

As they dug into poached eggs, croissants, and arugula salad, the sun above shined a ray of warmth onto the patio. It was one of those days in May that was either late spring or early summer — one could never truly tell — and what mattered the most was that the remains of winter had finally melted away. 

As Todd watched Jesse feed her son a few more dainty strawberry slices, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Judging by the duration of each vibration, he guessed that someone was texting him several times in a row. Upon retrieving his phone and looking at the screen he realized that he was right, but not in the way he expected. 

As he read the barrage of all caps messages inside of his DMs, Todd furrowed his eyebrow. 

“Jeez, Jennie what the…” 

Jesse shot Todd a cautious glance. 

“...funk,” Todd soon corrected. He held his phone up to the Speedster sitting next to him. “I think Jennie’s jealous.” 

Curiously, Jesse adjusted her glasses and looked over the messages. For the sake of the two himbos sitting across from her, she read the words out loud. 

“Todd, what the funk? You and Damon and Jesse and Rick are going to brunch at some bougie patio cafe and you didn’t even invite me?” she recited in a comically dull tone, which had the effect of downplaying the message’s intensity yet emphasizing the absurdity. 

The message timestamps and the nature of the social media platform confirmed that Jennie was responding to Rick’s newly uploaded clip, the one depicting baby Johnny eating a strawberry while lounging on Uncle Todd’s lap. Whether it be the cuteness of the situation or the sight of the picturesque Manhattan cafe that spurred the dramatics, no one could tell. 

Damon chuckled and Rick rolled his eyes at Jennie’s usual theatrics, whereas Todd let out a sigh. Judging by his exasperation, things like this were common in the life of being Jennifer-Lynn Hayden’s brother. 

“Maybe I should’ve invited her…” Todd bemoaned, running his hand through his hair. 

“Why?” Rick shrugged off. He cut himself a piece of eggs benedict topped with the right amount of hollandaise sauce and speared it with his fork. “So she could be a sixth wheel?”

“I mean…” Todd started, then sighed. “...she likes to be included in things.”  

“Yeah, I can tell,” Rick said, putting the morsel of food into his mouth. After chewing and swallowing, he continued to speak. “Come on, man, just like… buy her a treat or something, she’ll forgive you eventually.” 

Damon let out a laugh as he took another sip of his coffee. “Rick, she’s a person, not a dog.” 

Rick rolled his eyes as most of the brunch table — sans Todd — laughed at him. “Still, you get what I mean.”

Jesse gently nudged Todd. “Maybe tell her that sometimes you and Damon want to do things with other couples,” she explained calmly, handing Todd’s phone back to him with the softest touch. “I’m sure she’ll understand.” 

Once more, Todd nodded along. For all the talk he had about being able to communicate effectively with Jennie, some things were slightly more difficult to get across. Todd’s general introversion and Jennie’s tendency for theatrics did not help in one bit. 

Perhaps he was overthinking things. Surely, Jennie — who had been in more relationships than him — could understand a couple’s desire to do things with other couples. 

In fact, he and Damon had been looking for friends to double date with for the longest time. Having his sister third wheel them to a movie or an art gallery lacked a certain kind of connection that could only be fulfilled by another couple. 

What made the situation ideal was that everyone seemed to get along — Todd and Rick bonded over their favorite Sondheim musicals while Jesse and Damon discovered that they went to the same school for their undergrad. 

“Exactly, what she said,” Damon added, clicking his tongue and pointing to Jesse in the way that only attorneys with expensive educations could. 

In times like this, Todd would quip about whether this was the stuff that Carnegie Mellon grads paid $60,000 to learn, but now he wouldn’t dare do so in front of another alum. Clearly, the only education he was comfortable insulting was that of his boyfriend’s and no one else’s. 

With newfound confidence in his little brunch crowd, Todd gave a gentle smile. Internally, he decided to tell his sister his thoughts in a few minutes, knowing that given some time Jennie would calm down from her antics, as per usual. 

“You’re right,” Todd said, feeling more grounded with the encouragement given. “I’ll tell her in a bit though.” 

Rick continued to cut into his meal as he spoke. “And… maybe remind her that only one of you knows how to hold onto a man and it’s not her.”

And to that, the entire brunch table burst into the kind of laughter that one didn’t want to give into but let out anyway. 

#Jesse Chambers #Todd Rice #Rick Tyler #Damon Matthews #ToddDamon #JesseRick #Obsidian #Hourman #Jesse Quick #Liberty Belle #Jade #Jennie Lynn Hayden #Jenny Lynn Hayden #Jennifer Lynn Hayden #DC #Johnny Tyler #sassy!Rick strikes again

[corner-stories]

TylerCo Trust Fund Baby

Jesse Chambers. Rick Tyler.

Interviews. Catching Up. Sketchbooks.

2848 words.

(ao3.)

Jessica Belle Chambers had her own way of dealing with the unexpected. 

If her morning class got canceled, only reorganizing her day in her planner could quell the anxious knot in her stomach. When her Professor sent an email regarding her thesis, only a look at her meticulously crafted notes about the Mystery-Men of the 1940s could help her come up with a satisfying answer. 

And when Rex Tyler — CEO of TylerCo and the current Hourman despite his advancing age — agreed to an interview with a young, exceedingly organized grad student, Jesse responded to the opportunity the only way she could — i.e by vigorously planning out her entire day to accommodate the event. 

At six-thirty Jesse was up. At seven she was on her morning run with a podcast playing into her ears. At seven-thirty she was answering emails while eating the finest provisions a starving grad student could afford — cup noodles with a dash of sriracha. At eight-fifteen she was at class and discussing the impact that American Mystery-Men had on the post-WWII economy, nursing a coffee as she spoke. Then finally at eleven she rushed back to her dorm to make herself look presentable, then said her father’s Speed Force mantra to zip over to New York. 

…

…

…

Having been born and raised in Queens — until her parents’ split — Jesse always saw the Big Apple as her second home. Her childhood of day trips to Coney Island and baseball games at Citi Field rushed back to her the second she stepped into the city lines. The sound of cabbies honking their horns and New Yorkers yelling filled her ears, instilling a peculiar sense of nostalgia she had not felt since she was a young, gawky child with round spectacles and lanky limbs. 

Lower Manhattan was a nice change from Gotham. The latter was infamously known for the “Gothamite Stench,”  a pungent odor that clung to the inhabitants whether they liked it or not. Some people claimed it was reminiscent of a dumpster after a rainstorm, while others described it as moldy and dank. 

All Jesse knew was that it only took her six months at GSU to get used to the smell and that trudging through the Financial District at the peak of rush hour was practically a breath of fresh air.

The TylerCo building stood tall with a million glassy windows. Workers young and old filtered in and out of the place with the haste reminiscent of a typical college student. As Jesse walked up to the building, she checked her planner and her trusty wristwatch, then swiftly found comfort in the fact that she had a few minutes to spare. 

After checking in at the front desk, Jesse pinned her visitor’s pass to her blazer lapel as she entered a crowded elevator. On the thirtieth floor she stepped into a typical white-collared workplace, in which workers in cubicles either typed on their computers or made small talk amongst the water cooler. 

As Jesse made her way to the executive office in the back she wondered if the aura of a Stressed Grad Student could be picked up on by the TylerCo employees. Or worse, if her thorough shower at her dorm wasn’t enough to get the Gothamite Stench off of her. 

To quash the anxious feeling building inside her, she triple checked to see if she had her notes with all her questions for the Man of the Hour. When she found that everything was where she left it, she closed her planner and tucked it under her arm for safekeeping. 

Outside of Rex Tyler’s office was an ornate door, a little waiting area, and a Secretary’s desk. Jesse wasted no time in walking up to the lady typing at her computer. 

“Hi, I have an appointment with Mr. Tyler.” 

The Secretary didn’t look up from her screen. “Which one?” 

Jesse paused as her brain tried to process a question she was not prepared to hear. “Excuse me?” 

“Well, do my eyes deceive me?” asked a playful voice. 

Jesse turned around to see someone sitting on a chair by the office door. Lounging with ease was a young man just about her age, someone clad in a charcoal suit and a yellow necktie. In his hands were a pencil and a moleskine notebook, something he appeared to be writing in quite vigorously. 

The sight of his chestnut locks, deep brown eyes, and his uncanny resemblance to the company’s founder immediately told Jesse who it was. 

With a grin, Rick Tyler shut the notebook in his hands and got to his feet, looking Jesse up and down. “Jessica,” he greeted somewhat playfully. 

Jesse remained stone-faced as she gave him a polite nod. “Richard.”

At the desk, Rex’s Secretary typed madly on her keyboard before speaking up once more.

“Erm, Mr. Tyler…” she said then paused. “...the older one… will just be a few minutes. Please sit down.”

Jesse nodded as Rick’s grin got just a bit wider. 

“Thank you.”

On reflex Jesse checked her planner again as she made her way to one of the chairs. She sat next to a very amused Rick, trying her best to ignore the way he was looking at her. He stared at her like someone had told a joke and she wasn’t getting the punchline. 

“Don’t get your hopes up,” said Rick, speaking in a tone tinged with just the slightest bit of contempt. “She said the same thing to me thirty minutes ago.” 

Jesse rolled her eyes and checked her phone. As to be expected there were a handful of emails from her professor, as well as a few texts from her co-workers asking to cover a shift. As Jesse contemplated whether the extra cash would be worth the loss of study time, Rick took a seat next to her.

“So… how’ve you been, Jess?” asked the dashing young heir to the TylerCo fortune. “Haven’t seen you in forever.” 

“I would say the same to you,” Jesse said, glancing over to take in Rick’s appearance. 

Rick’s resemblance to his father was as clear as day, whether it be due to his sharp jawline or his thick eyebrows. Yet if one looked close enough they could see that Rick had a sense of prettiness to him, particularly in his long lashes or the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Anyone familiar with Wendi Harris-Tyler’s filmography could undoubtedly see the traces of her beauty in her son. 

“Last I heard you were doing your thesis,” Rick recalled. 

Jesse nodded. “And last I heard you were-” 

“In rehab?” 

Jesse felt her stomach drop, clearly dealing with the second unprepared event of the day. Her professional front began to falter as she took a few seconds to regain herself.

“... I was gonna say the Hamptons,” she eventually replied. “Heard you needed some time away.” 

Rick let out a chuckle, throwing his head back and letting out a sigh. “Yeah, no shit. It’s not the worst place for Rex Tyler’s junkie son to hang out.”

“You shouldn’t say that about yourself,” Jesse was quick to say. She eyed Rick in a way that indicated a level of concern. 

Rick averted her gaze and looked down to the carpeted floor. He smirked a bit, then let out a chuckle. “I shouldn’t say a lot of things about myself.” 

As Rick seemingly laughed at himself, Jesse took him in for a few moments more. The last time she had seen him was five years ago, wherein Johnny Chambers had invited the Tylers to dinner. Unsurprisingly, they all ate with an empty chair at the table.

As to be expected, Rex Tyler was busy with something — whether it be hero stuff or CEO work. For that one night, his habit had led to a very strange dinner where the man’s absence felt like an elephant in the room. It was very telling that on this particular occasion, Johnny’s quips about his and Libby’s divorce would only make things even more uncomfortable.

Aside from that, Jesse could recall Rick bringing up a desire to go to art school and his mother supporting him one-hundred percent. Even back then he claimed that drawing was the only thing he was good at. 

When Jesse’s father had proudly toted his daughter’s acceptance into Cornell, she could remember a burning blush creeping to her cheeks and the desire to tuck her head into her shirt like a turtle. Somehow her embarrassment had made Rick smile for the only time that night, something that stuck with her even to this day. 

Unsurprisingly, Jesse had lost contact with Rick not too long after. Suddenly she became more concerned with her undergrad than keeping contact with the children of her father’s hero friends. All she ever heard of him was through the grapevine, usually during visits to her parents. 

Discovering that her childhood friend had gone through some serious substance abuse issues was already quite upsetting, hearing it over tea with her mother didn’t help as well. Perhaps what made it worse was the fact that Jesse didn’t know how to call and check on him, as his number in her phone was no longer in use.

Wanting to keep the conversation light, Jesse asked, “Did you ever end up going to art school?” 

“Did a few semesters at Yale,” Rick shrugged. “But that whole rehab thing got in the way.” He turned to her and looked her up and down once more, placing his hand on his chin as he knitted his eyebrows. 

“Hm, Dad was right.” 

Jesse glanced back at him, confused. “About what?”

“You do look a lot like your Mom,” answered Rick, his voice sounding just a bit silky. “Especially back in the day.”

Before Jesse could get distracted by the burning sensation in her cheeks, Rex’s Secretary spoke up. 

“I’m so sorry, but Mr. Tyler can’t make this appointment,” she said. “He’ll have to cancel.” 

Jesse tried to ignore the anxious knot in her chest and stood up. “When can he reschedule?” 

“Perhaps next week?” the Secretary offered. “Just send an email and we can set something up.” 

Jesse nodded and Rick sighed. As the Secretary went back to furiously typing, Rick stood up from his chair and stretched his arms. 

“Well, my morning’s a bust,” Jesse mumbled, disappointed. As to be expected she opened up planner and began mentally calculating what to do with her time now.

“Dad will be Dad,” Rick replied, pacing around with his hands in his pockets. “You’ll get used to it.” 

He looked over to see her reorganizing cue-cards in the pages of her planner.

“Got time to take an early lunch?” he asked casually. “My treat.”

Immediately, Jesse looked back to her planner and flipped through the pages. It didn’t take her long to weigh the pros and cons of the opportunity. After deeming the prospect of free food as a more valuable outcome than running back to Gotham to study or cover a cafe shift, she closed her book and gave him a nod. 

“Yeah, why not?”  

…

…

…

Sitting on a bench somewhere on FDR Drive, the pair youngsters enjoyed a view of the Brooklyn Bridge and their bodega sandwiches. Around them Lower Manhattan hummed like a machine that refused to turn off. 

Rick had shrugged off his suit jacket and loosened his tie, Jesse had let her hair down and removed her contacts in favor of her usual spectacles. With the finer details of corporate life taken away, the two looked a lot more relaxed. It was incredible what getting out of a stuffy office could do for a person.

As the hustle of the big city resonated behind them, both Jesse and Rick spoke about whatever came to mind. 

For once Jesse could speak about school in a way that didn’t relate to her thesis. She spoke of her dorm room and how it was always colder than she wanted it to be, or her cafe job and how she was saving up to move off campus. Even though being the child of Johnny Quick and Liberty Belle had afforded her more privileges than she knew to do with, she felt uneasy asking her parents for more money, even if it was to live comfortably. 

In turn Rick spoke of his recent travels. The Hamptons in the off-season certainly had its perks, as what was once a vibrant summer getaway town was now a quiet, seaside hamlet. He spent most of his time in his mother’s beach house, simply retreating from everything and spending his time with his art. He had begun painting more often, something he was unfamiliar with but now had time to explore. Drawing would remain as his first love, however.

Rick finished his sandwich and asked, “Even thought about transferring around here? I hear Columbia dorms are cozy.” 

“Tempting, but I’ve got enough on my plate already,” Jesse replied, keeping her eyes on the waters of the East River. “I can’t imagine handling a transfer on top of it all.”

In the distance Jesse could see a ferry bringing tourists from the city to Liberty Island, an activity that she had done a handful of times in her childhood. As memories of her mother holding her up to the ship’s railing swirled in her head, she took a quick sip of her cherry cola. 

“Maybe I’ll burn my old notes for warmth this winter,” she suggested, half joking and half serious.

Rick let out a chuckle, crumpling up his sandwich wrapper and tossing it into a nearby trash can. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the same small moleskine that he had been writing in before. If anything, it seemed to be a coping mechanism akin to Jesse’s planner. 

Jesse eyed the book, noting that whatever he was jotting down was just out of her sight.  

“What are you always doing in there?” she asked, curious. 

Rick gave her a friendly smile before lifting up the book. On the current page was a small drawing of an hourglass, in which everything from the sheen of the glass to the sand trickling down were drawn in meticulous detail. To say that Rick Tyler learned nothing from his few semesters of art school would be an absolute lie. 

“Ironic, isn’t it?” Rick said in a somewhat sardonic tone.  

Jesse shook her head. “I wouldn’t say so.”

Rick handed the sketchbook over so she could examine it more clearly. As she flipped through the pages she was graced with drawings of nearly anything imaginable, ranging from an old ‘66 Mustang to the New York skyline. Some were more stylized and impressionistic, while others were photorealistic. Sometimes he used watercolors, but more often than that a pencil was all he needed to do wonders.

“You’re good at this,” Jesse admitted, giving him a softer look than before. 

Like before Rick was smiling. “You flatter me, Miss Chambers.” 

As Jesse flipped through the pages and admired the drawing of a lilypad, Rick looked out to the sight of Brooklyn across the water. 

“And here Dad was thinking I could be a Doctor,” he spoke dryly, then scoffed. “Jokes on him, I flunked out of O-Chem in high school.”

“Not everyone’s cut out for it,” Jesse assured. “I’m sure he’ll come around one day.”

Rick’s face seemed to light up, but only slightly. He sat with his legs crossed and his back slightly hunched, his chiseled chin resting in his hand. He smiled but only marginally so, one that didn’t seem to be laced with the mild disdain or obligation like before.

“You’re lucky, Jess,” he soon said, looking her in the eye. “Your Dad’s actually proud of what you do.” 

Jesse wasn’t sure what to say. She looked down to Rick’s sketchbook again. She took in a watercolor recreation of a lighthouse in Montauk, one characterized by the dreamy mix of greens and blues and yellows, then snapped the whole thing shut. 

As she handed it back to him she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. Once she grabbed the device she couldn’t help but feel relieved that some kind of distraction managed to pop up. 

“Speaking of which…” Jesse said as she read the text off her phone. “Dad just asked how the interview went. Could I send a pic of you and I?” 

Rick slipped his sketchbook into his pocket and raised an eyebrow. “Why?” 

“Because I’m sure he’d rather see me hanging out with a walking Brooks Brothers catalog than wasting my time,” Jesse replied in a matter-of-fact voice, as if there was nothing remotely unusual with her words in any capacity. 

Rick gave her an amused smirk. “Well, personally I prefer ‘TylerCo Trust Fund Baby’ but okay.”

“That’s funny,” Jesse said in a blunt and dry tone, one laced with the slightest implication that Rick’s quip was anything but. 

As Rick let out a subdued chuckle, Jesse opened the camera app on her phone and raised the device up, making sure to bring her old friend and herself into frame.

“Smile!”

#rick tyler #jesse chambers #hourman #liberty belle #jessequick #jesserick #quickrick #hourbelle #jsa #dc #flashfam #i miss my girlboss and himbo

[corner-stories]

paint-splattered overalls

Jesse Chambers. Rick Tyler.

Painting. Modelling. Stretch Marks.

1564 words.

(ao3.)

Despite his flourishing career as a superhero, Rick Tyler was an artist at heart. Hidden in one of the storage closets of his home was a collection of sketchbooks dating back to his childhood. All the art hung around the house were selected by him from the endless New York City art fairs that he would drag his wife to. There was even a corner of the basement where he stored various tubes of paint, used and fresh canvases, and enough charcoal to survive the apocalypse. 

On his days off work he would spend a few hours in his little corner of the world, getting lost in his own thoughts as he shaped the medium to fit his needs. 

Illustration was Rick’s first love, but more recently he had developed an earnest interest in painting. When he was a young art student doing a summer program in France, he had formed a fondness for the academic style, preferring it just slightly more over the dreaminess of impressionism, or the cynicism of the realism movement. 

Rick was far from his generation’s Bouguerau, but he enjoyed the feeling of moving a brush across a fresh, unmarked canvas to portray whatever was on his mind. Practice made perfect, he would always tell himself, and with that mantra he explored the new medium to his heart’s content.

After painting his fair share of fruit bowls, flowers, and window views, Rick came to his wife with a certain request regarding his newest interest. To his surprise, she agreed. 

Rick had worked with models before, especially during his time in Europe. Like always, he asked what she was comfortable with and was transparent with what he wanted to get out of the session. They worked together and came to an agreement before Rick even got his paint tubes out.

On a rare day off from work, Rick and Jesse sent their son to one of their on-call babysitters, then went down to Rick’s basement art studio. He had covered the windows of the room and placed a wooden stool in front of his easel. 

Clad in nothing but her well-worn bathrobe, Jesse seemed confident for the most part. Perhaps she was plagued with just the slightest bit of anxiety, but it could be from the unfamiliarity with the situation. She had modelled for her husband before, but certainly not like this. There were some things she would need to get used to before they truly began.

Rick went over all he asked of her one more time, then went off to mix his paints. As he prepared everything, Jesse finally got undressed. 

She placed her robe to the side and went to the stool in front of everything, bare yet demure. She seemed a lot less nervous now, as the initial uneasiness of the scenario had faded away.

After sitting down, Rick only gave her a handful of corrections in regards to her pose. He wanted her to be facing away from him, as well as to move her hair to expose the musculature of her back. He also asked if she could look to the side and cross her legs, as he was particularly keen on getting her profile and her shapely stems. 

Once that was done the session finally began.

Despite Jesse being very much in the nude, things were rather non-sexual in nature. In the most literal terms, Jesse’s only job was to sit on a stool and Rick’s only job was to shape the best image of her with the tools he had. Things were surprisingly chaste as Rick started to work.

Although, Jesse would be lying if she said she didn’t notice the lingering look in her husband’s eyes, or the way he would nervously fidget with his paint brushes as she disrobed. Fortunately, she didn’t mind it and even smirked to herself. It was nice to know that having a baby eighteen months ago didn’t hinder her ability to fluster her husband. 

The basement was mostly silent as the artist and the muse worked, save for the sound of Rick mixing his paints on his pallet, or the sound of the streets outside. Jesse was quite good at remaining still, and as she did so her husband worked with expert precision. From where she was could see even more spots accumulating onto his threadbare, paint-splattered overalls, but he didn’t seem to care one bit. 

After a few hours of painting, Rick called it a day just as the ache in Jesse’s neck was starting to become unbearable. Even with the few breaks they took, modelling was surprisingly exhausting work. 

Relieved, she got off the stool and stretched, ignoring the fact that she was still undressed, then went to fetch her robe. Meanwhile, Rick rinsed his hands and face in a nearby sink.

As he did so, Jesse found her eyes being drawn to him, watching as he splashed water onto his face to wash the paint and sweat off his forehead. The way the water trickled over the muscles of his forearms and made his hair damp sent a tightening feeling through her chest, though perhaps that was just her blood circulation starting up again.

As Jesse checked her phone and received an update from Grant on his adventures in babysitting, Rick set his newest work aside to let it dry. Curiously, Jesse prodded barefoot across the basement floor and approached her husband. She hugged him from behind and snaked her arms around his broad, sturdy torso, making sure to hold him close, and looked upon the painting for the first time. 

“Is that really what my ass looks like?” she asked, both amused and flattered at the depiction. 

Rick grinned and reached up to touch his wife’s hand with his own. “It is, no embellishment needed.”

Jesse let out a hum. “Shame… it could use some embellishing.” 

Rick chuckled as Jesse took the painting in for a few moments more, trying her best to not think about his choice to include the stretch marks on her back.

Knowing that her husband’s favorite kind of paintings were depictions of Greco-Roman mythology from the latter half of the 19th century, she could see just the slightest bits of inspiration in the frank, almost chaste recreation of the undressed form. Her mind went to the numerous renderings of Aphrodite she had seen over the years, whether she was rising out of the sea or courting her favorite lover Ares, and how every version of her was seen as the most desirable woman around.

With that in mind, Jesse realized that Aphrodite, the Goddess of love and beauty herself, would never be bothered with the concept of stretch marks, so neither should she. 

Jesse gently pecked her husband on the cheek, then held him closer to nuzzle his neck. “We should do this more often.” 

Rick squeezed her hand. “You’re talking about modelling, right?” he spoke in a warm, husky tone. 

Jesse hummed as she pressed another kiss against his skin, then when she next spoke her breath tickled his ear. “Maybe.”

…

…

…

The painting of Jesse was left to dry as the couple made their way out of the basement. Barefoot and dressed only in her robe, Jesse kept her hand on the loop of her husband’s overalls as she led him through their house and towards their bedroom.

Once they closed the door behind them Rick was quick to kiss her, then even quicker to press his lips against her neck, feverishly peppering her skin with his touch. In response, Jesse ran her hands over the smooth, toned muscles of her husband’s shoulders and back. 

With one hand grasping the front loops of his overalls, she gently undid the buttons and began sliding the worn denim over his skin. She rolled the material down, exposing his chest and his abdomen. For a moment Rick let her touch him, even taking her hands into his to help guide them all over body. She brushed her fingers across his stomach, something that garnered a deep, straining groan from his throat. 

When the garment was at his waist, Jesse felt her husband let go of her hands to place them on her shoulders. With a gentle, yet firm push he ushered her to the bed, where she landed with ease against the mattress and pillows. 

The material of her robe was still wrapped around her form, but before Jesse could bother herself with any of that she kept her eyes on her husband, expectantly watching as he gave her a coquettish smile, which he knew could either make her blush or drive her crazy. 

Standing at attention, Rick slowly undid the side buttons on his paint-splattered garment, then casually worked them down his legs until they dropped onto the bedroom floor. For a moment he stood bare-assed in front of her, watching as she looked him up and down. Judging by the look in her eyes she was impressed with what she was seeing.

Rick smirked, then without hesitation proceeded to climb on the bed. He crawled forward and hovered over his wife for a brief second, looking her in the eye and taking in the contented smile on her face. 

With a grin of his own Rick pressed his lips to hers, then reached down to the belt of her robe to slowly work it off of her. 

#Rick Tyler #Jesse Chambers #Jesse Quick #Hourman #Liberty Belle #JesseRick #JSA #QuickRick #@DC let Rick be an artist again