Chapter Text
“How good of you to join us, Mr. Winchester.”
“Sorry, professor,” Dean Winchester mumbled as he ducked into the classroom. He found an empty chair and easel and tried to settle in as quietly as possible. His moth-like wings rustled softly when he finally sat.
“As I was saying, class,” Professor Cain Adamson continued, standing in the middle of a circle of easels, “this is Life Drawing 101. If you’re in the wrong class, please leave now. Starting next week, class begins at 8:30AM, the door to the class is locked at 8:31, and the window on the door will be covered up out of respect and for the safety of our models. So if you’re late, you miss the class.”
Many of the students turned to look at the door, and sure enough, there was a fabric curtain on a wire hanging to one side of the window. When they turned their attention back to their Unseelie professor, a woman began handing out a series of papers to everyone.
“My TA, Meg, is handing out the syllabus, which includes a list of books and supplies needed for this course as well as my office hours and various ways to contact me,” Professor Adamson said. “I expect you all to have everything for the next class. In the meantime, for those of you with a sketchpad of some kind, and something to draw with, let’s get started, shall we?”
Students with a portfolio, including Dean, unzipped the ungainly case and pulled out supplies. As Professor Adamson walked around the class, explaining the theory part of Life Drawing 101, he would call time on whatever quick sketch was being worked on, and the students began another. Most simply drew their fellow students. A few drew the professor or the TA, and since both were Unseelie Fae, they made remarkable models. Although, for the most part, the drawings were stick figures since the exercise was to get the general flow, pose, and ratio rather than detailed drawings. The two hours seemed to fly by, and before Dean knew it, Professor Cain was calling an end to the class.
“Remember, be on time and have the supplies,” Cain reminded the students as they left the classroom.
Dean wasn’t sure where the university got their Life Drawing models from, and he didn’t know how much they were paid, but based on the folks that graced the center of the circle, Dean was convinced the university did not pay very well. A couple of weeks into the semester, Dean sat at a cafeteria table with several of his friends, regaling them with today’s model.
“Yeah, I mean, we’ve had him before,” Dean explained. “Name’s Zachary or Zachariah, or something. He’s kinda smarmy and definitely gives off Unseelie vibes.”
Charlie, a vivacious red-haired pixie shivered and grimaced. “I think I know who you’re talking about,” she said, dragging a French fry through ketchup. “He’s in a business class of mine. Mostly bald, slight paunch, beak-like nose?”
“Yeah, that sounds like him,” Dean said. “Anyway, he walks into class and heads to the changing room…”
Meg closed the classroom door behind the model, turned the lock and dragged the curtain closed. The model disappeared into the tiny changing room, and came out in a knee-length robe. Professor Cain set a stool in the center of the circle of easels and draped a large piece of cloth over the stool, pulling and folding it to fall dramatically. The students flipped open their newsprint paper pads and took pieces of charcoal out. The model - Cain introduced him as Zachariah - stepped into the circle and began moving in one minute poses for artist warmup. When Cain finally called an end to the warmup, Zachariah dropped his robe and leaned a hand on the stool, feet crossed at the ankle. He placed his free hand on his hip and looked up. Dean sighed softly at the rather pedestrian pose.
Some students switched pads from the cheaper, grey newsprint, to bright white and heavier bristol paper. Graphite pencils and a few rapidograph pens replaced charcoal sticks, and many students donned headphones or earbuds and turned their music on. The class settled for the next 45 minutes.
At the 45-minute mark, Professor Cain called a break. Zachariah pulled his robe on and grabbed his backpack in the changing room. He took out a bottle and drank deeply. A snack was unwrapped and eaten. Several students did the same, while others wandered around the classroom, looking at the various drawings left on display.Professor Cain called the class to order after 15 minutes and the model and students resumed their places.
Dean was settling into his seat, opening the bristol pad to a fresh page. When he looked up at the model, it took every ounce of willpower not to laugh. He glanced around at his classmates, taking in everyone’s reaction. There was a low murmur of laughter and Professor Cain clapped his hands.
“Let’s get started, shall we?” he instructed.
Dean coughed and bit back his grin. With a shrug, he looked at the model and began drawing.
“Okay, but why was everyone laughing?” Charlie interrupted Dean’s storytelling.
Dean’s moth-like wings shook slightly and he looked at Charlie. “Patience, pixie,” Dean admonished.
“That’s Queen Pixie of Moondoor, to you, Handmaiden!” Charlie retorted.
Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head, antennae bristling only slightly. He knew he never should have agreed to go LARPing with the slight woman, but Charlie could be relentless, and sometimes - oftentimes - it was just easier and less painful to agree to do her bidding.
“Patience, your highness,” Dean said. “I was just about to get to that part.”
Charlie huffed and the others in the group, Benny, a laid back vampire with a Louisiana drawl that could melt butter in the North Pole, Garth, who most of the time exuded more of a golden retriever vibe than werewolf, and Jo, a Seelie Fae like Dean, who had wings like the death’s-head hawk moth , all chuckled at Charlie’s impatience. Dean took a bite of his burger, shoved several fries into his mouth, and took a long pull of Coke through the straw in the cup before continuing.
“C’mooooon,” Charlie whined, punching Dean on the shoulder. “Quit stalling and get on with the story!”
Dean ruffled his wings and glared at Charlie. He took another sip of Coke to annoy her, and continued regaling his friends about art class.
Dean was outlining the model with a graphite pencil for this project and he began drawing the nude man in generalized broad strokes. The fact that the model was standing on his head made for an interesting profile. Dean didn’t consider himself a prude, and he enjoyed a not strictly vanilla sexual lifestyle, but even he was having difficulty keeping a professional demeanor in light of being not quite face to face with an older man’s cock and balls dangling upside down. Dean decided to concentrate on drawing the defined musculature of the model’s neck, shoulder, and forearm in the inverted pose.
Charlie cackled with laughter and took a drink from her bottle of Yoo-hoo to help catch her breath. “Oh, gods,” she said, “I don’t wanna see a peen rightside up, never mind hanging upside down!”
“Thankfully, he wasn’t able to maintain the pose for very long. The blood rushing to his head meant it was only about 15 minutes,” Dean explained. He shook his head and rolled his eyes at the memory. “Professor Cain was not happy. And then the rest of the class with him was in a more conventional pose.”
The friends finished their meals while chatting and making plans for a future games night, and a karaoke evening. Someone’s phone beeped a reminder, and as one, they all gathered their garbage and their bags, and headed off to various points on campus.
Dean set up his easel and made himself comfortable on the chair. He checked his phone, made sure the earbuds were hooked up to the Bluetooth, and queued up one of his many classic rock playlists. He smiled softly when he saw who today’s model was. An older sprite made her way to the center, her nearly translucent green wings fluttered and buzzed. The first time she posed for the class, once again, Dean fought the urge to chuckle. The woman - Midge? Madge? Mildred? - was petite for her kind, but was regal in bearing. Her skin bore the wrinkles of time, her hair was a silvery white and was cut short. When she dropped her robe, however, the class was met with a set of very perky breasts. Dean bit his upper lip to keep the smile off his face. He set to capturing the older woman as she moved from one pose to another and mentally gave the woman kudos. Not that she needed his validation.
Professor Cain calling an end to the warmup posing brought Dean back to the present. Madge… Mildred… dropped her robe, pulling something from a pocket. She slid it on her hand and leaned a buttock on the draped stool. She lifted her hand, and there was a sock puppet.
“A sock puppet?” Garth interrupted.
“Yeah,” Dean chuckled and his friends laughed with him. “I mean, there she is, all wrinkled, old lady skin,” Dean dodged a punch from Charlie, who scowled at him. “Except for her high, perky boobs,” Dean failed to dodge an even harder punch from Jo. He rubbed his arm with a pout, and continued. “And she’s got a sock puppet on one hand. It was so odd.”
“No, that’s a brilliant idea!” Garth exclaimed. Garth smiled and if he’d been in his werewolf form, his tail would have been wagging. “I’ve decided to specialize in child psychology, and I think having a sock puppet to kind of run interference with kids not so willing to talk to an adult would be great!”
The thin man grabbed his phone and started tapping away on a Notes app. Dean finished his burger, Charlie finished her bag of corn chips, and Benny quietly collected the Tupperware containers that had his and Garth’s lunch. Raw steak for the both of them.
Dean watched as Mildred (probably her name) settled into her pose, quietly sending out a prayer.
By Titania’s tramp stamp, please don’t do anything even remotely sexual.
He sighed in relief when the model stopped moving, presented her sock puppet to face her, as if they were in conversation, and the students began drawing. Dean once again drew with a graphite pencil. The curve of the sprite’s back, the rounded buttocks carrying through to the extended leg flowed onto the page. The delicate wings folded closed still showed a graceful pattern that Dean did his best to capture. The sprite was almost in profile from Dean’s perspective, and he drew the slight waves of silvery hair curling over a pointed ear. The model’s nose came next, and plush lips and a pointed chin followed after. Of all the various models that had been coming through the life drawing class, Dean enjoyed Mildred the most. Her personality shined and was easy to transfer to paper. Plus, she was a sprite. They are a sassy bunch.
Charlie snorted and rolled her eyes. “Dude, the stereotypes are just rolling off you today.”
“What?!?” Dean pretended offense. “I’m appreciating an older woman. A much older woman.”
“I thought you were off the market, cher,” Benny said. He took a slice of raw beef from the container with a pair of chopsticks and popped it into his mouth.
“Nothing wrong with window shopping, buddy,” Dean said with a grin. “So long as I don’t take the merchandise out for a test run, I can appreciate a body in whatever form they grace us with. Actually, I need to appreciate the forms. That's why I’m taking this class in the first place.”
“Explain that to me again?” Charlie asked. She had bought food at the cafeteria and was finishing up her Greek salad.
“Well, I wanna design a car that can fit most forms,” Dean began explaining. His friends knew what his dream career path is, and with his school schedule heavy in mechanical and automotive engineering, it was hard to miss if someone spent any amount of time with him. “We’re a varied population, and cars are kinda designed to fit the most common body type - those of us who are humanoid with wings. And with the demographics showing we’re more likely to be buying cars, we’re catered to the most. I wanna come up with either a modular car, where the seats can be swapped out, or find a shape that will accommodate a wider group of beings.”
Dean’s face and ears turned red, his antennae vibrating slightly with discomfort. He’d never really shared his aspirations with anyone, and was suddenly embarrassed about having such lofty pursuits.
“Dude!” Charlie said in wonder. “That’s awesome!”
Everyone agreed, and once again, a reminder went off, letting the group of friends know it was time for the next class, time to get to work, or time to hit the libraries. Progress waited for no one.